I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

【Dismemberment】

That word was truly gory, but it was indeed the most fitting interpretation of this plan.

In Mitia’s previous life, there had once been a lighthouse nation and a certain father-and-son pair who carried out a similar operation together.

They dismembered a once world-renowned super-alliance into over a dozen countries.

Formerly close allies and neighbors turned into mortal enemies, warring for centuries without pause.

And now, Mitia wanted to apply the same tactic to the Kingdom of Cabansia.

Since the opponent was now a difficult hedgehog to chew on, she might as well stop trying to bite and let it collapse from within.

The concrete plan for the “Spring of Cabansia” was peaceful evolution.

Currently, strong nationalist emotions already stirred within Cabansia, showing signs of shifting into populism.

Therefore, taking advantage of the long border between the two nations and the convenience of airships, the Kingdom of Seris would provide them with military aid, soldier training, and ideological enlightenment.

Through propaganda to liberate thought and ideological indoctrination, Seris would further provoke independence sentiments among the various ethnicities and races within Cabansia.

Seris’s role was not to inflame ethnic hatred between the major nationalities, but to support a socialist faction and a local populist force within each ethnic group, letting the two vie for ideological dominance while both opposed the Cabansian monarchy.

Within Cabansia’s various ethnic residential areas, gathering places, and provinces, Seris would “red-support” tribal chiefs, local leaders, and influential figures.

Eventually, they would complete the great fragmentation of Cabansia. For decades to come, peace would vanish from this land.

Beginning as dozens of small countries, “Cabansia” would cease to be a nation’s name and become merely a regional label.

Seris, on the other hand, would remain impartial, continuing to support them through the Socialist International, and helping them exchange resources for weapons and other materials.

The displaced civilians would flee across the border to the “heavenly” Seris Federation—she only needed to maintain the image of a caring elder sister.

When the time was ripe, Seris’s National Socialist Federation’s divine troops would descend from the heavens, led by the local socialist parties, to reclaim those fragmented territories one by one.

The commoners those who had suffered under both populists and the royal nobles would be peacefully transformed into ordinary citizens.

Mitia wasn’t worried about the plan backfiring.

A more advanced productive and social system would bring them better lives, leaving little soil for populism to grow.

If any fools still dared to resist, the iron fist of the state would not be easy to withstand.

As long as the plan succeeded, the Seris Federation wouldn’t need to step foot into Cabansia’s cesspit. It could avoid the dangerous minefield of populism’s formative phase and still retrieve the chestnut from the fire.

Even if the chestnut retrieval failed, it didn’t matter.

It would simply mean this land would forever be mired in endless wars and fragmented powers, where children would be born to live and die alongside gunfire and death.

Such a plan, of course, could never be leaked.

Whether successful or not, it would inevitably lead to tremendous bloodshed and suffering an unmitigated tragedy for the hundreds of ethnic groups involved.

And as the Glorious Empress of the Seris Federation, the dual party leader, Chairwoman of Workers and Farmers, Supreme Marshal of the Federation, and Pontiff of the Holy Light, she was wise and sacred untainted by any filth.

If any were found, they must be the slanders of the nobles!

Campbellus State Intercontinental Train Station

A long twin-engine sleeper train rumbled slowly out of the station with its unique deep, thunderous roar.

Bratt Suria sat on his berth, looking around with curiosity. The highly transparent glass allowed him to take in the outside scenery clearly.

The bed beneath him was about two meters wide and 2.5 meters long. Whatever material was used as the mattress, it was impressively comfortable.

Although this berth would have been considered extremely simple where he grew up, he knew that compared to the homes of the common people in his kingdom, this was nothing short of heaven.

More importantly, it was on a fast-moving iron carriage! Through the window during turns, he could even see the long trail of cars stretching behind the locomotive—who knew how many people were packed inside.

Of course, it wasn’t as comfortable as his carriage, but this was an ordinary train—something anyone could board without social restrictions, and the ticket was unbelievably cheap.

And “cheap” that seemingly trivial word often contained profound meaning.

At the very least, it proved one thing: this kind of transport was absolutely commonplace in this country, not some rare luxury.

And that terrifying cargo capacity it could easily be modified into an excellent heavy freight carrier… Seeing a passing train loaded with timber, Bratt gave a wry smile. What he could think of, the producers surely had long understood.

Silently counting how many carriages of wood passed by, Bratt roughly estimated the weight.

Although these trains couldn’t carry as much as the war beasts used for logistics transport in his kingdom, their speed was incomparably faster.

However...

Watching the landscape whiz past alongside the endlessly stretching tracks, Bratt Suria thought, “The only flaw of this iron carriage is that it seems bound to this fixed rail.”

After three days and nights of travel, Bratt journeyed from Campbellus through Astar to reach the Federation’s capital, Sera.

He had spent all three days on the train—reading in the library car, dining in the restaurant car, and passing through the smoking carriages filled with commoners at every connector.

Bratt felt that simply by riding this seemingly never-resting train, he had glimpsed countless hidden facets of this nation.

It wasn’t until he arrived at the Sera Central Station that he revealed his true identity to the staff.

Only then did he meet the official diplomatic representative of the Seris Federation.

Coy approached Bratt Suria and shook his hand, his youthful, handsome face full of a warm smile.

“Hello, I’m Coy Ackerman Astal, Deputy Minister of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. On behalf of the Seris Federation, I welcome your arrival.”

‘Astal… Are you related to the Empress?’

“Haha, Her Majesty the Empress is my elder sister…”

Coy replied with a hint of helplessness.

Nowadays, any time he introduced himself in an official setting, his name shone like a firefly in the dark.

As the Federation grew larger and the Empress’s achievements multiplied, none of the generals or marshals in the military dared to take him in.

It was a joke.

If something happened to the Empress’s younger brother on the battlefield, no one could imagine how she or the people would respond.

As the one and only supreme Empress of the Federation, who among the citizens wasn’t curious about those close to her? Everyone could recite her relatives’ names by heart.

Mitia herself was very open-minded, unconcerned about public attention she could withstand scrutiny under any magnifying glass.

But for Coy, that meant trouble.

After being frozen out by the military, he tried to work at the grassroots level, yet the government officials dared not assign him anywhere. In the end, he could only sit around the office, sipping tea.

He couldn’t enter the Taxation and Security Bureau either.

After running in circles, he had no choice but to beg Mitia for help.

Finally, she gave him a deputy minister post in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs essentially making him a diplomatic mascot.

The Ministry didn’t object; in fact, they welcomed it with open arms.

The Minister was finally free to focus on real work.

Given Coy’s status, it was entirely appropriate for him to handle many diplomatic affairs.

Even if the Minister himself didn’t attend a reception, having Coy there was still considered top-tier diplomatic treatment.