ã€ŠThat Time I Was Mistaken For An Imperial Government Officialã€‹


 Part I: Is it too late to back out?

    She was supposed to turn in her quest to the clerk at the adventurer¡¯s guild, get a drink, and go to sleep. That''s how her routine usually went. But tonight was different.

    A group of good-for-nothing adventurers called her out for being a Beastmen. It wasn''t unexpected¡ªthis particular group had been harassing her for some time. She responded in kind, throwing a barrage of profanities and slurs. Fight fire with fire, she thought.

    But tonight, they seemed more daring. One of them cast a fireball indoors!

    She nearly got fried on the spot before she activated her shadow ability and struck the caster unconscious.

    Unfortunately, being an Assassin isn''t ideal when fighting out in the open. So she opted for the second option: running as fast as she could.

    She bolted out of the building, her heart pounding in her chest. The cool night air hit her face as she sprinted down the cobblestone streets, the sounds of laughing adventurers in pursuit echoing behind her. The guild¡¯s familiar environment blurred past her as she navigated the narrow alleyways.

    As she darted through the maze known as the Imperial Capital, she could hear the shouts of the adventurers growing fainter. She needed a place to hide, a moment to think. Her eyes scanned her surroundings frantically. There¡ªa small, shadowy alcove between two buildings. She slipped into it, pressing her back against the cold stone, trying to steady her breathing.

    Moments passed like hours. She could still hear the distant clamor of the guild, but it seemed like her pursuers had lost her trail. For now.

    Fucking Humans¡­ acting like they¡¯re the superior race¡­

    She thought bitterly as she dusted the dirt from her clothes. As if it¡¯s not dirty already.

    What if the roles were reversed, huh? How do you like that?

    She walked quietly down the streets, tired from that affair and eager to hit the bed. Her ears, however, tell a different story. Thanks to her feline ears, she can hear faint noises of the same bunch of adventurers just around the block.

    Shit! They¡¯re still here!

    She looked around for any way out. Is there anything she could use to slip away undetected? She could use her shadow ability and basically become invisible to them, but that would consume too much mana and cause her to have withdrawals in the morning.

    There it is!

    There¡¯s a storeowner of a clothing store closing down his store for the day, and he conveniently left for a bathroom break it seems. There¡¯s an idea, she should disguise herself as a normal Human!

    She sneakily stole a pair of suit and coat, as well as a fedora the Human upper class usually wear, and put it all on, not even bothering to take off her rugged adventuring clothes. It¡¯ll be hot, sure, but she¡¯s not changing clothes out in the open.

    Now, how do Humans act? Arrogant and pretentions. Especially the Nobles.

    Strengthening her resolve, she walked around the block and carefully avoided the gaze of the adventurers who were drinking it seems.

    She sighed a breath of relief too early when one of them stopped her.

    ¡°Have we met?¡± The adventurer said as he locked eyes with her.

    ¡°No?¡± She mustered up a reply.

    ¡°I knew it! It¡¯s you! The subhuman filth!¡± He shouted, the other adventurers springing into action with their weapons.

    Drats! They know me too well!

    She didn¡¯t have the stamina to run anymore, so she looked around and entered the first building she set her sights on, hoping she could hide in it.

    What she didn¡¯t expect, however, was being held at gunpoint by Imperial soldiers inside the building.

    ¡°Halt! Why did you barge in here?¡± One of them shouted at her.

    ¡°Look I had a rough day today, okay?¡± She retaliated with an annoyed face. Clearly displeased by the agent of the Empire.

    ¡°Hmm¡­ Oh? Aren¡¯t you the new Deputy Minister?¡± The soldier¡¯s eyes widened in sudden realization, ¡°Sorry, your excellency, the room is down the hall and to the left, labelled A10.¡±

    What? What is this guy saying?!

    ¡°What are you¡ª¡±

    ¡°The meeting is starting, so I¡¯ll escort you there to not waste any time.¡±

    She was too stunned to protest as the soldier led her down the hall. They stopped outside a door labeled A10, and he opened it, ushering her inside. The room was filled with presumably high-ranking officials, all of whom turned to look at her as she entered. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. How was she going to get out of this one?

    ¡°I uhh...¡± She stammered, desperately trying to think of what an Imperial official might say in this situation. Something authoritative, perhaps? She hoped someone might recognize that she didn¡¯t belong here.

    Unfortunately, her hopes were dashed when an important-looking man spoke up with a smile. ¡°Ah, you must be Anise, correct? Congratulations on becoming the Deputy Minister.¡±

    Who the hell is Anise? That¡¯s definitely not me!

    ¡°A Beastmen, huh? That¡¯s new.¡± She turned to see another man with a stoic face.

    How did he¡­

    She realized too late that her tail was hanging out of the coat. She quickly tucked it back in, cursing herself for the oversight. Maybe that¡¯s why the adventurers caught her disguise?

    Trying to maintain her composure, she gave a strained smile. ¡°Yes, thank you. It¡¯s an honor.¡±

    The man raised an eyebrow but seemed satisfied, ¡°Good to know there are tribals willing to become civilized. I hope the Imperial Examination didn¡¯t give you a hard time.¡±

    Choosing to ignore that remark, she gave him a small nod before seating in the last empty seat, presumably reserved for her.

    She needed to find this ¡®Anise¡¯ person quickly. Or else she might get caught and executed for impersonating a government official!

    ¡°Ah, since you just arrived, here is the topic for this night¡¯s meeting.¡± A stack of documents were shoved in front of her. It¡¯s at least tall enough as the glass of water beside it.

    She already dreaded what lay ahead. Flipping open the first page of the first document, she skimmed through the dense text, her eyes scanning for any useful information. Most of it was bureaucratic jargon about resource allocation and border security.

    Her eyes were already feeling tired as she rubbed her eyes.

    The meeting began in earnest as one of those suited men dragged chalkboard into the room.

    As the meeting progressed, she managed to deflect questions with non-committal answers and occasional nods. Her charade was holding, but she knew it wouldn¡¯t last forever. She needed to find an opportunity to slip away, hopefully after the meeting is done.

    She let out a yawn as the presenter, who she now knew as the Minister of Finance, Darius Hall, who is speaking something about resource allocation and budget restrictions¡­

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    She used all her might not to fall asleep as her tired eyes glanced at the clock, 2 in the morning.

    The other officials have tired looks in their eyes, but perhaps they have gotten used to it so it didn¡¯t bother them.

    She¡¯ll have to praise the Humans for their work ethics.

    An hour later, the meeting finally adjourned. The officials stood, some exchanging pleasantries and shaking hands.

    Finally!

    She thought, as she straightens her back and prepared to get out of here. She will have to make up an excuse and leave the premises. Best to lay low for a while until then.

    She exited the room and powerwalked straight to the exit, not wanting to waste any more time around these people.

    ¡°Deputy Minister!¡± She stopped dead in her tracks. In hindsight, she should¡¯ve pretended not to hear the sound, but she shudders what he¡¯ll do if she disobeyed.

    She slowly turned around, showing a forced smile to the man who smiled at her back in the meeting room.

    ¡°Yes?¡± She said, trying to keep her voice steady.

    The man kept his signature smile, ¡°A word with you for a minute, we¡¯ll talk when we¡¯re in the automobile.¡±

    She clenched her fist, maintaining her smile, ¡°Of course, lead the way.¡±

    They were led by a guard outside to the fancy automobile. Truth be told, it¡¯s her first time riding such constructs.

    The man entered first, and she hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether she should just run away. But she quickly scrapped that idea, deeming it idiotic. Instead, she climbed into the automobile and made herself comfortable in the plush seats.

    The interior was luxurious, with polished wood accents and soft leather upholstery. She couldn''t help but feel a bit out of place, but she kept her expression neutral.

    ¡°Ah~ It¡¯s nice to have that meeting finally over, isn¡¯t it?¡± The man remarked, ¡°I was worried that you wouldn¡¯t make it, but I was relieved when I saw you enter the room.¡±

    ¡°No problem, sir¡­?¡± She hadn¡¯t even known his name, despite being seated next to him this entire time.

    ¡°Looks like the fatigue got to you that you¡¯ve become forgetful, haha.¡± He let out a hearty laugh, ¡°But I digress. I am Henry Eden, Minister of Home Affairs.¡±

    Another Minister, she should¡¯ve guessed. Most definitely a Noble as well. She holds a deep grudge with Human Nobles like him, but it¡¯s not like she could show a scowl on her face, not in this situation.

    And considering how he callously referred to her as the ¡®new Deputy Minister¡¯, she had to assume she accidentally became the Deputy Minister of Home Affairs. How grand¡­

    She forced a polite smile. ¡°Of course, Minister Eden. It¡¯s an honor to serve under you.¡±

    He nodded approvingly. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll do well, Deputy Minister Anise. We need more competent individuals like yourself. You almost obtained a perfect score in the Imperial Examination, goodness.¡±

    Her stomach dropped. The Imperial Examination was one of the hardest tests conducted for civil servants, and she knew she wasn¡¯t even half smart enough to pass an ordinary test.

    Henry Eden continued to talk, mostly about himself. She half-listened, her mind working on a plan to extricate herself from this situation.

    ¡°Your Excellency, we¡¯re here.¡± The driver announced as the automobile halted to a stop.

    ¡°Thank you, Gerald.¡± Eden nodded before opening the door.

    She did the same and exited. Scanning her surroundings, she realized she is inside the Imperial complex, the place where government buildings and many important people work at. Of course she should expected this.

    The cold morning air somehow made her shudder despite her best efforts to stay composed.

    ¡°Shall we?¡± Eden gestured for her to follow him, leading the way through the impressive archways and past grand buildings.

    She followed, trying to keep her thoughts in order. As they walked, she took note of potential escape routes and the layout of the complex. The guards seemed alert at the Beastmen but not overly suspicious. She needed to act carefully.

    ¡°Here we are,¡± Eden said, stopping in front of a large office. ¡°This will be your workspace. If you need anything, don¡¯t hesitate to ask. My office is just next door.¡± He pointed at the other door next to hers.

    ¡°Thank you, Minister,¡± she replied, stepping inside.

    The office was spacious and elegantly furnished. She moved to the desk, scanning the documents already piled there. It was overwhelming, but she had to stay focused.

    As Eden left, she quickly formulated a plan. She needed to find out more about Anise and figure out a way to safely disappear. She couldn¡¯t afford to stay here and risk exposure.

    She sighed as she sat down at the desk, pretending to study the documents. After a few minutes absentmindedly gazing at the documents filled with bureaucratic jargon¡ªwords that could put a peasant to sleep¡ªshe found an interesting paper.

    It was the employment contract, and it hadn¡¯t been signed yet.

    Her heart raced as she realized the implications. If the contract wasn¡¯t signed, her position wasn¡¯t official. This could be her ticket out! But wait¡ªher eyes were drawn to one particular sentence in the contract.

    ¡°A- a thousand Golden Virs a month?!?!¡± She gasped, her jaw dropped to the floor.

    She stared at the figure in disbelief. A thousand Golden Virs was a fortune¡ªenough to change her life completely, not to mention it¡¯s being paid EVERY MONTHS.

    For a moment, she imagined what she could do with that kind of money. No more running, no more scraping by. She could live comfortably, perhaps even secure a future for herself and her tribe.

    10 Virs is more than enough to support a family of four, 100 or so is enough to buy one of those Automobiles, 1,000 then you¡¯re considered extremely wealthy, maybe you own a business or something, but 1,000?! She didn''t realize government officials were being paid THIS much! This is criminal!

    But¡­ should she?

    As tempting as it is, she would be taking away someone else¡¯s hard-earned position, just by being mistaken simply because she wore the right outfit at the right time.

    That would mean lying, deceiving, and maintaining a facade indefinitely.

    Would she do that?

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve already sat through one meeting, what¡¯s a couple more? I can push my work to others anyways¡­¡± She mumbled.

    Of course she would.

    Just as she thought about signing the contract, her doors opened to reveal Eden, coffee in hand, and a set of clothes in the other.

    ¡°Signed the contract yet? After you sign it, I¡¯ll give you the identification card and this suit.¡± He said, placing the items down on the guest table.

    Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced a calm smile. ¡°Just about to, Minister Eden.¡± she replied, picking up a pen and quickly scrawling a signature on the dotted line.

    Eden nodded. ¡°Excellent. Here¡¯s your identification card,¡± he said, handing over a small, official-looking card. ¡°And this suit should fit you. It¡¯s the standard attire for our high-ranking officials.¡±

    ¡°Thank you Minister, I shall change into them shortly.¡± She glanced at both the card and suit.

    Eden smiled and took a sip of his coffee. ¡°Good to hear, Anise.¡± He checked his wristwatch, ¡°Hmm¡­ It¡¯s nearing 6¡­ I suppose you should head home after this. Rest up, and get to work tomorrow then.¡±

    She nodded, watching him leave the room. As the door closed behind him, she let out a breath she didn¡¯t realize she had been holding.

    She looked down at the small card she¡¯s been holding. It was made of silver, and imbued with mana. It displayed her name, title, and signature. But if she poured mana into it, it projects a hologram of sorts, displaying her full identity.

    And not Anise¡¯s identity, but hers. Her full name, the picture wearing the suit Eden gave her, her signature, her date of birth, her ACC (Assigned Citizen Code), and much more.

    The card had somehow recognized her true identity. Was it the suit? The magical properties of the card? No, it was because she poured her Mana into it.

    She could lie her way of why her name is different, just say she changed into a more ¡®human-sounding¡¯ name, rather than her old tribal name.

    But her ACC? Every citizen of the Empire had different ACC, and Anise¡¯s and hers are infinitely different than each other. She has to find a way to change that.

    Carefully, she placed the card on her desk.

    She changed into the suit provided by Minister Eden quickly, feeling the fine fabric on her skin. The transformation was complete, she looked like what she thought government officials look like. Red tie, black suit, and a brooch bearing the Empire¡¯s coat of arms on her left chest, and a similar pin on her lapel.

    Personally, she¡¯d rather wore a red shirt underneath the suit, but that can be adjusted later.

    As she stood in front of the mirror, she was surprised herself at the change. Gone was the rugged assassin, replaced by a polished and authoritative figure.

    The Beastmen in front of her is not the same Beastman from yesterday. Her feline ears stood proudly erect, her tail was¡­ acceptably clean, and the suit gave her an air of undeniable authority.

    She straightened her tie and adjusted her collar, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

    "Well, this is it," she muttered to herself. "I am Anise now¡­"

    She couldn¡¯t help but yawned. She had been awake all night, and would like to get some sleep when she got back.

    But at the present, she couldn¡¯t help herself to pose in front of the mirror.

    The sudden bang of her doors opening made her jump, it was Eden with a shocked look on his face.

    She thought for a moment that she had been caught, and her life flashed before her eyes. Instead, what came out of Eden¡¯s mouth was something else she was entirely unprepared for.

    ¡°The Emperor is dead.¡±

 Part II: Tying up loose ends

    Ries couldn¡¯t believe what just transpired. It¡¯s all just a dream, right? She hasn¡¯t just became Deputy Minister and that she¡¯s currently lying in the floors of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild unconscious?

    It certainly doesn¡¯t look like a dream. Good rest and sleep be damned, she was forced to rush to the Imperial palace by Eden. It was her first time entering the Imperial palace, she had a gut feeling that she would enter this place multiple times in her new job.

    Nevertheless, she and Eden, along with several other important looking people, entered a grand hall. It was a large room, but due to the many nobles and officials, it felt small and narrow. The walls were adorned with rich tapestries and intricate carvings, but the opulence did little to ease her growing anxiety.

    ¡°Your Excellencies, may I have your attention, please?¡± Called out a person wearing ridiculous clothing. To her it was ridiculous. The bright, clashing colors were painful to look at.

    The man was standing in a small stool, elevating his position so he was seen by everybody.

    ¡°At 5:20 a.m. today, in the year of our Lord twelve thousand and fifty-four, His Majesty Emperor Valerys VIII passed away from natural causes.¡±

    A hush fell over the grand hall. The weight of the announcement settled heavily in the air, the reality of the Emperor¡¯s death sinking in. Ries glanced around, noting the varied reactions among the gathered nobles and officials¡ªa small percentage of them were shocked, saddened, and calculating. But most seemed to have expected this.

    The herald continued, ¡°The Royal Court has confirmed Princess Lyrya to ascend to the Imperial throne.¡±

    Now that, it seemed, caused an uproar with the nobles.

    ¡°What do you mean she will become Empress?!¡± one noble shouted.

    ¡°Are you mad?!¡± another exclaimed.

    ¡°Why isn¡¯t the Prince next in line?!¡± a third demanded.

    The herald, unfazed by the nobles¡¯ outrage, raised his hands for silence. ¡°The decision has been made by the Royal Court in accordance with the Emperor¡¯s wishes and the laws of succession.¡±

    The nobles continued to grumble, but the herald pressed on, ¡°Preparations for the Emperor¡¯s funeral and the coronation of Her Highness will be undertaken immediately and conducted on the same day. This is a time for unity and unwavering dedication to the Empire.¡±

    ¡°The Emperor is dead, Long live the Empress!¡± the herald ended his announcement and exited the hall.

    From her side, Ries felt a nudge from Eden, signaling her to follow him. She hesitated for a moment, but gathered her resolve, falling into step beside him.

    Eden led her through the opulent corridors of the palace, ¡°His Majesty¡¯s death is unexpected,¡± he paused for a moment, ¡°Well¡­ expected, but not this month at the very least. Looks like we won¡¯t have any rest until after the coronation.¡±

    ¡°Is the coronation taking place the same day as the funeral?¡± she asked, wondering if such a schedule wouldn''t strain the government and its officials.

    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Eden replied, nodding. ¡°The coronation must be done immediately according to tradition. We¡¯re scheduling it to take place at noon.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t that be overwhelming for everyone involved?¡±

    Eden gave her a wry, but tired smile, ¡°that¡¯s why. We¡¯re the faceless bureaucrats who keep this vast Empire running.¡±

    Ries could only nod.

    They reached a door and entered the room. Grand and opulent, as always, she thought. Oddly, it was empty save for one person.

    ¡°Is that your new Deputy Minister, Eden?¡± One man, sat on a chair, cigar in hand, said as he looked towards Ries, ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware you¡¯ve tamed a wild Beastmen.¡±

    Ries silently clenched her fists. Something about this man¡¯s tone and condescension ignited a flame of anger within her.

    ¡°She¡¯s the first of her kind to pass the Imperial Examination, you gotta give her credit for that.¡± Eden replied with a sly smirk, ¡°Anyhow, Ryman, how¡¯s the cancer? Straight back to smoking again?¡±

    The man, now identified as Ryman, scoffed, exhaling a cloud of smoke, ¡°It was cured, thanks to the Magic Association. Can¡¯t say I¡¯ve given up my vices, though.¡± He gave a harsh chuckle, the kind that grates on the nerves.

    Eden turned to her, ¡°Anise, this is Alexander Ryman, the Minister of Justice.¡±

    Of course this bastard just had to be the Minister of Justice, why wouldn¡¯t he?

    ¡°A pleasure to meet you, sir.¡± She forced out, mustering a smile that didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes.

    Eden placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, ¡°Despite his gruff demeanor, he¡¯s one of the most competent people I¡¯ve met.¡±

    Ryman raised an eyebrow, blowing another puff of smoke in her direction, ¡°Competent enough to recognize when a wolf is pretending to be a sheep. Let¡¯s hope you¡¯re more than just a token gesture.¡±

    She met his gaze defiantly, ¡°I assure you, Minister Ryman, I am here to do my job and to do it well. I¡¯ve earned my place.¡±

    Ryman studied her for a moment before taking a drag of his cigar, ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡±

    Eden casually sat down on one of the chairs, prompting Ries to do the same and sat next to him. She took the time to look around the meeting room. It was opulent as always, to be expected for a meeting room in the Imperial palace.

    Her thoughts were interrupted when a cup of coffee was placed in front of her.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t slept since yesterday, this should help you focus.¡± She looked towards Eden who had a similar coffee in hand.

    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±

    ¡°Drink up, we¡¯ll have to wait for the others.¡± He seemed annoyed but kept the smile in his face.

    She didn¡¯t hesitate to take a sip of the coffee, and to be perfectly honest, it was the best coffee she had drank in her entire life! It was bitter, but not too bitter. It had a hint of sweetness that not too overpowering. Does she have this privilege too?

    She felt invigorated, the coffee seemed to boost her energy and sharpened her mind. Beside her, Eden was talking with Minister Ryman about some gossip, nothing that concerns her really.

    She took this moment to relax before the storm that will no doubt come. Maybe she¡¯ll visit her tribe and show her father how much she changed? No¡­ she would have to resolve the ACC issue¡­

    I don¡¯t know who you are, Anise. But I¡¯ll be taking over from now on.

    Hours seemed to pass, but gradually, the room was filled with she can assume to be other ministers, some with their Deputies, others without. They all took a glance at her ears but didn¡¯t bother raising a question.

    As everyone settled down, one final person entered the room and immediately took a stand in front of everyone else.

    ¡°Apologies for being late, everyone. I want to announce a few things moving forward.¡± He had baggy eyes and a tired look. Even his speech, even though authoritative in a way, seemed fatigued.

    Ries could tell this was the Prime Minister from how old he is, and how he carried himself with an air of authority that only comes with experience. She observed as he glanced around the room, acknowledging each person with a nod before continuing.

    ¡°As you all know, today marks a pivotal moment in our Empire¡¯s history with the passing of His Majesty, Emperor, and dear friend, Loucas Bernhardt Reivrys Des Valeries. It is with great solemnity that we must now turn our attention to the transition of power. A moment of silence.¡±

    The room fell into a profound stillness, broken only by the faint sound of shuffling papers and quiet breaths. It was a brief pause, yet its significance lingered heavily in the air, a tribute to the departed Emperor and a moment of reflection for all those gathered.

    After what seemed like an eternity, the Prime Minister''s voice cut through the solemn silence, "The public will be notified of His Majesty¡¯s passing shortly, and we will carry out the funeral at once. Preparations for the coronation are already in place in the ceremonial hall."

    "The funeral procession will commence at 10 am, followed immediately by the coronation of Her Highness, Princess Lyria," the Prime Minister continued.

    Ries listened attentively. Truth be told, it¡¯s her first time being somewhat responsible for this. If she was the same person from yesterday, she would scoff at the Emperor¡¯s passing whilst drinking and mumbling ¡®good riddance¡¯.

    She looked down at the brooch on her chest. Golden, it resembled the wings of a dragon, with a small coat of arms resembling a dragon¡¯s head made out of red gem, ruby she assumed.

    She clenched it tight. This is her now, this is her life. She should keep this fa?ade as long as she could.

    She can bring genuine change and help her kind to prosper.

    ¡°On another note.¡± The Prime Minister continued as he fixed his suit, ¡°I am announcing my resignation and retirement.¡±

    Gasps filled the room. The Prime Minister raised a hand to silence them, "This decision has been long in the making. With the Emperor''s passing, it seems the right time for new leadership to guide the Empire into the future."

    Ries was taken aback. She had only just grasped her new role as Deputy Minister, and now this?

    "Effective immediately after the coronation, my duties will be handed over to my successor, who will be announced at the appropriate time."

    Without further ado, the Prime Minister stepped out of the room, leaving the ministers in a state of stunned silence.

    She felt Eden¡¯s hand on her shoulder, ¡°You better clean up and rest until noon. You don¡¯t have to attend the funeral, but you must attend the coronation.¡±

    ¡°I will, sir.¡± She nodded, not hiding her exhaustion.

    Eden gave her a reassuring pat, ¡°Good. You¡¯ve had quite the introduction to the government. Take this time to gather yourself. Oh, and take this.¡± Eden handed her a white letter.

    ¡°What is this?¡±

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    ¡°Think of it as your leisure fund.¡± He smiled, ¡°See you later.¡±

    She nodded and exited the room. She let out a sigh she didn¡¯t know she was holding. She needed to relax for real this time, and not have some absolute bombshell of a news dropped at her.

    Thankfully, she knew someplace she could drink her problems away. The adventurer¡¯s guild building also has a bar in it, and she knew the bartender. Maybe she also should resign from being an adventurer and fully commit to the role of Deputy Minister.

    Whilst walking down the streets of the capital, she decided to open the letter to see the contents. Inside was a generous sum of money, more than enough to cover her expenses and a bit extra for indulgences ten times over. Eden had called it a "leisure fund," but it felt like a lifeline.

    Oh you know, a leisure fund he said, as he casually handed me over 500 Golden Virs half of my salary¡­ She mused. Nobles sure have a different way of thinking, huh?

    She wasn''t complaining, though. If she was to technically become a noble, she might as well enjoy the perks. She was practically one already, given her new position and the responsibilities thrust upon her.

    Whatever the case, she had arrived in front of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild building. It¡¯s kind of nostalgic, in a way. If not for those group of adventurers, she wouldn¡¯t have become Anise, the Deputy Minister of Home Affairs.

    She pushed open the heavy wooden doors, greeted by the familiar sounds of boisterous conversation, clinking mugs, and the smell of hearty meals. It was as if nothing had changed, yet everything had. For her at least.

    Nobody batted an eye at the newcomer, suits her just well though, she didn¡¯t want the attention anyways.

    Sliding onto a stool at the bar, she signaled the bartender and for a moment, she thought of something, ¡°Give me the most expensive drink you have.¡±

    The bartender raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, "Well, someone''s feeling fancy today. Coming right up."

    He reached for a bottle on the top shelf, dusting it off before pouring a rich, golden liquid into a crystal glass, ¡°Here it is, Ries. Or should I call you Madam Ries, now?¡± His appraised her from top to bottom.

    She could only let out a wry smile, ¡°No thank you, Robert. I had a¡­ tough day today, and also yesterday.¡±

    ¡°I heard. Those group of adventurers been bothering you again? Westerners really hate Beastmen, huh?¡± he sighed. Indeed, she should be thankful her tribe is in Imperial protection, or else they might be enslaved already.

    ¡°Tell me about it¡­¡± She took a sip, the complex flavors dancing on her tongue. It was smooth, with notes of honey and oak, far superior to anything she¡¯d ever tasted before. This is what wealth and power tasted like, she mused.

    ¡°What is this drink called?¡±

    Robert leaned in with a smirk on his face, ¡°That, my friend. Is a 10-year-old Valerian Gold.¡±

    ¡°10-year-old Valerian Gold?!¡± Ries nearly choked.

    He chuckled, ¡°That¡¯s right. I never thought I would have to bring it out until now.¡± He puts the bottle back in its place, ¡°Just so you know, that is going to run you 5 Golden Virs.¡±

    ¡°Heh, money isn¡¯t a problem for me anymore, Robert. The problem is, do you have change?¡±

    Robert and Ries continued their banter. However Ries avoided the topic of her circumstance. Not until she can somehow manipulate Imperial records and find out this Anise person.

    ¡°Well, well, well¡­ look who we have here.¡±

    Oh no. She knows that voice. It¡¯s the same group of adventurers who chased her yesterday. She calmly set the glass down and turned to look at them.

    ¡°Are you looking for me?¡± she asked, her voice steady and her expression authoritative, trying to mimic the nobles she had observed. Mimicry was part of an assassin¡¯s skill set, after all.

    The burly man with a scar on his cheek sneered, ¡°Look who¡¯s grown guts. Weren¡¯t you a scaredy-cat yesterday? Why don¡¯t you grovel at my feet like the Beastmen you are? I might just forgive you.¡±

    Ries felt a surge of anger but kept her composure. She stood tall, meeting his gaze unflinchingly, ¡°You don¡¯t want to cross me, I am someone important now. You will show respect, or you will face the consequences.¡± She deliberately shows her brooch for all to see.

    The man laughed, ¡°Someone important? You expect us to believe that?¡± He looks at his companions who shared a laugh, ¡°How could you, a Beastmen, be someone important?¡±

    Their laughter echoed through the building, and Ries could feel the gaze of a dozen eyes on her. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see how she would respond.

    Perhaps it was the Valerian Gold she drank, or perhaps she just had enough of this, she summoned every ounce of the authority she had, she raised her voice, "This brooch signifies my position as the Deputy Minister of Home Affairs. I passed the Imperial Examination, something none of you would even attempt to do. Disrespect me again, and you will find yourselves at the mercy of the law."

    She might¡¯ve earned herself an award at acting. Truth be told, she was nervous deep inside and cringed at what she said. But she learned to fake it ¡®till you make it.

    The laughter died down, uncertainty replacing the mockery in their eyes. One of the men muttered, "Is she serious?"

    ¡°Don¡¯t be a fool!¡± The burly men scoffs, ¡°The Empire couldn¡¯t be stupid to let an animal in office. Why don¡¯t we remind her of that?¡± His words sent a chill through the bar.

    He slowly walks towards her, cracking his knuckles. Ries could feel the air around her change. She was ready to escape with her shadows if need be, for now though she would stand her ground. According to the laws of the Empire, aggressions against an official as high as her is severely punished, right?

    As he closed the distance, Robert, the bartender, stepped forward, "That''s enough, Garon," he said firmly. "You heard her. She''s a Deputy Minister now. If you lay a hand on her, you''ll be facing more than just a bar fight." He warned.

    Garon sneered, "You think I''m scared of some title?" He spat on the floor, his eyes still locked on Ries.

    ¡°You should.¡± Her voice unconsciously started to shake but kept it under control, ¡°Because that title comes with the power to make your life very difficult. And I won''t hesitate to use it.¡± She grasped the brooch tightly.

    ¡°Well, how about you use your title to fight THIS!¡± he threw a punch with his giant fists.

    Ries managed to sidestep it at the last moment. She didn¡¯t think he would really fight her.

    Ries felt the rush of wind as Garon''s fist missed her again by inches. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she wasn¡¯t an assassin for nothing, her training as an assassin kicked in, guiding her movements with precision. Though she had not expected a physical confrontation, but she was not defenseless.

    The guild erupted into chaos. Some adventurers scrambled to get out of the way, while others watched with wide eyes and interest. Garon, infuriated by his missed punches, turned to face her again, his expression one of pure rage.

    ¡°You think you can dodge me, little beast?¡± He snarled, advancing on her once more. He used reinforcing magic on himself and prepared to throw another punch.

    Ries kept her stance low and her eyes on Garon, ready for his next move, ¡°This isn¡¯t a fight you want to pick,¡± she warned, her voice steadier than she felt, ¡°I have more power than you realize.¡±

    Garon''s next punch came with a speed and force amplified by his magic. Ries managed to sidestep just in time, feeling the rush of air as his fist flew past her. The impact of his blow shattered the furniture where she had been standing a moment before, splintering wood and sending debris flying.

    Ries instinctively reached for her dagger, but realized too late that she left her dagger along with her old clothes back at her office.

    Damnit!

    She instead reached for her brooch and held it in front of her.

    Garon sneered, somewhat amused by her decision. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to do? Scratch me?¡±

    Ries didn¡¯t respond. Instead, she focused, channeling her mana into the brooch. Garon hesitated for a second, unsure of what it might do.

    Please do something! Please do something! Please do something! Please do something! Please do something! Please do something! Please do something! Please do something!

    Even Ries herself was unsure what the brooch can do other than a piece of vanity signaling her authority.

    Garon smirked, ¡°Looks like your toy isn¡¯t doing anything.¡± He raised his fist, putting all of his magic in it and preparing to obliterate her from existence.

    All Ries could do was close her eyes. Is this how it¡¯s going to end? Just when she had stolen a golden opportunity?

    She waited with baited breath, waiting to be struck. But it never came.

    ¡°Police! Everybody stand down!¡± A voice rang a squad of policemen armed with rifles barged into the building and apprehended Garon.

    The adventurers who had been frozen in place now raised their hands in compliance. The lead officer, a stern-looking man with a commanding presence, scanned the room quickly before his eyes settled on Ries.

    ¡°Deputy Minister Anise?¡± he asked, his tone respectful but firm, ¡°We received reports of a disturbance. Are you alright?¡±

    Ries nodded, ¡°Yes, Officer. That man right there, and his companions tried to kill a government official.¡± She pointed at Garon, who was still fuming but now subdued by the presence of armed police.

    The policeman squinted his eyes, assessing the situation, he turned to Garon, ¡°Is this true?¡± he demanded.

    Garon¡¯s face twisted with anger and defiance, ¡°She¡¯s just a Beastman pretending to be important! She doesn¡¯t belong here!¡± He spat.

    The lead officer raised a hand to silence him, then turned back to Ries, ¡°Be it as it may, the brooch is certainly authentic, as we¡¯ve received distress calls from it.¡±

    ¡°B-But!¡±

    ¡°Assaulting an Imperial government official is punishable by up to 20 years in prison and a 150 Golden Virs fine.¡± The officer stated firmly as his gaze never leaving Garon¡¯s.

    Garon''s defiance flickered, replaced by a hint of fear. He looked to his companions, but they seemed just as shocked and stricken with fear.

    ¡°Deputy Minister Anise,¡± The lead officer addressed Ries respectfully, ¡°we will take these men into custody. Your safety and the integrity of the law are our priorities.¡±

    Ries nodded, her grip on the brooch tightening, ¡°Thank you, Officer. Make sure they understand the severity of their actions.¡± She then glanced at Garon and his companions, ¡°I heard they are people from the Western kingdoms, perchance you could fine them then blacklist them from the Empire?¡±

    ¡°What?! You can¡¯t do that! We¡¯re adventurers! We have rights to travel between borders freely!¡± Garon protested upon hearing that.

    The lead officer¡¯s gaze hardened, ¡°You forfeited those rights when you assaulted a government official.¡± he said sternly, ¡°As for blacklisting, that will be up to the courts to decide, but your actions today will certainly weigh heavily against you.¡±

    Garon''s face paled as he realized the gravity of his situation. His companions looked equally stricken, their bravado evaporating in the face of real consequences.

    ¡°Deputy Minister Anise,¡± the officer continued, turning back to Ries, ¡°we will ensure they are processed according to the law. Your suggestion will be noted in our report.¡±

    Ries nodded, her grip on the brooch loosening slightly, ¡°Thank you, Officer. It¡¯s important that we maintain order and respect within our borders.¡±

    It¡¯s also important to make up bullshit reports too. She thought to herself.

    The officer motioned to his men, who began to handcuff Garon and his companions. As they were led away, Garon glared at Ries, but the fear in his eyes betrayed his bravado.

    ¡°You¡¯ll regret this, Beastman,¡± he hissed, but the lead officer silenced him with a sharp tug.

    With the troublemakers removed, the tension in the building eased. Adventurers who had been watching the confrontation unfold began to relax, their respect for Ries apparent in their glances and murmurs.

    Robert approached her, bottle of Valerian Gold in his hand, ¡°You handled that quite well. I wouldn¡¯t have thought you were Deputy Minister, I thought you find a well-paying job.¡±

    She smiled, ¡°Just glad it¡¯s over¡­¡±

    Robert handed her another glass of the Valerian Gold. ¡°Here, on the house. You¡¯ve more than earned it.¡±

    Ries accepted the drink, the rich aroma soothing her frayed nerves. ¡°Thanks, Robert. I needed this.¡±

    As she sipped the exquisite beverage, Ries allowed herself a moment of relaxation. Who knew having authority could be this good? Maybe this sort of life ain¡¯t so bad after all.

    The road ahead was still uncertain. She needed to erase any mentions of Anise from the Imperial records, and she definitely needed to settle down on her new role.

    Another group of adventurers entered the building, their conversations seemed too good. Too good in fact, that they might be carrying news.

    One of them yelled at on of the clerks, ¡°Hey! Turn on the radio!¡± He said.

    The clerk, a young woman with bright eyes and quick hands, nodded and reached under the counter, pulling out a small, polished wooden box. She turned a dial, and after a few moments of static, a clear voice filled the room.

    ¡°...and in today¡¯s breaking news, the funeral procession for His Majesty Emperor Valeris VIII will commence at 10 a.m., followed immediately by the coronation of Princess Lyria. Citizens are advised to follow updates closely as the day progresses.¡±

    The adventurers stopped their chattering and gossiping and paid full attention to the radio broadcast. Ries, who knew of this already, continued to sip on her glass of Valerian Gold.

    The announcer continued to detail the events for today, highlighting the funeral and the coronation, adding commentary about the significance of the transition. Ries emptied her glass, setting it down with a quiet clink, and left the building.

    One was an adventurer, who knew Anise. Her eyes were cold as she observed her every move. She had known Anise, Anise was no Beastmen. But somehow, she disappeared and then another person took her position? Unacceptable, she was going to get to the bottom of this.

    The other was an agent of the Imperial Security Directorate, his sharp eyes peeking over the edge of the newspaper he had been pretending to read. Orders from above were to gather information about the discrepancies surrounding this new Deputy Minister. ¡®Anise¡¯ had passed the Imperial Examination, but there were inconsistencies in her record that raised red flags.

 Part III: Coronation & Resolution

    The lack of sleep is starting to get to her. For the life of her, she can¡¯t keep her eyes open throughout the coronation process. Worse yet was the fact the room had cooling magic applied, making her even sleepier than ever before.

    You can handle this. Just hold on for a couple more hours.

    The ceremony won¡¯t last until the afternoon, right? She needed a much-needed sleep so badly.

    She looked around her, nobles filled the seats, from the highest Duke to the lowest baron. From the distinguished, to her, who isn¡¯t supposed to be here. But here she is.

    The herald in his ridiculous clothes shouted, ¡°Please stand up for Her Majesty!¡±

    It looks like it¡¯s starting.

    Ries forced herself to her feet, blinking rapidly to stay awake. The room was filled with a hushed reverence as the Empress entered, resplendent in her royal regalia. Ries could honestly care less, but she knew she had to be presentable somewhat.

    The Empress was escorted by the Imperial Guards, who wore similar ceremonial uniforms. At her side were the Prime Minister and the Archon of the Temple, walking with measured, dignified steps. The grandeur of the occasion was undeniable, but Ries''s fatigue dulled her ability to appreciate it fully.

    As the Empress took her place, the herald continued to direct the proceedings, his voice booming through the hall. The nobles around her stood tall, their faces a mixture of solemnity and reverence. Ries mimicked their posture, doing her best to blend in despite her exhaustion.

    The ceremony proceeded with speeches and oaths, each one seeming to drag on longer than the last. Ries''s eyes threatened to close with each passing minute, but she fought to stay alert. She glanced around¡­ looks like she isn¡¯t the only one who¡¯s becoming tired of all this, she saw some of them yawning and struggling to stay awake like her.

    I get this is tradition, but come on! People have their own stuff to do!

    Finally, the crown, a big and highly ornate one at that, was placed on the Empress'' head, the herald announced, ¡°Her Imperial Majesty, Lyrya Victorya Reyvrys Des Valerys, Sovereign of the Valerian Empire, Dragonness of Reyvrys, Defender of the Faith, Protector of the Realms, Queen of Man, Duchess of Valerya, Ruler of the Celestial Throne.¡±

    At the end of the herald¡¯s announcement, Ries was shocked when she heard multiple swords being unsheathed and rifles being aimed at the air with one hand too. Led by what she could assume to be the Imperial Royal Guard, the attendees shouted in unison, ¡°Long Live Our Empress!¡± many times over.

    Only she was looking confused and disoriented.

    She blinked, trying to shake off the drowsiness and make sense of the ritual. The clamor of swords and rifles, combined with the deafening chants, felt surreal. She forced herself to join in on the chant albeit halfheartedly and a beat behind.

    What felt like an eternity later, the ceremony finally finished, and the attendees began to file out, leaving her and the other ministers behind. Through her tired eyes, she spotted her superior, Eden, calling out to her with a wave. She sighed and reluctantly made her way over to him.

    ¡°You look like a Demon.¡± Eden seemed to be enjoying her fatigued appearance.

    ¡°I... haven''t slept since last night,¡± she admitted, rubbing her eyes in a futile attempt to chase away the fatigue.

    Eden chuckled, ¡°Well, you¡¯ve certainly been thrown into the deep end. But you handled yourself well today despite your condition. Come, the Empress wants to meet with us.¡±

    Ries followed Eden to the private meeting room, where the Empress awaited them. The grandeur of the room was lost on her in her exhausted state. She noted that there were other ministers and others, such as military officials judging from their uniforms.

    The Empress sat on an elevated seat, her presence practically radiating authority. Now that Ries had a closer look, she realized the Empress was not just beautiful, but strikingly so. Her expression was cold and stoic; if looks could kill, this might be it. She remembered that the Empress has 2 brothers, where were they?

    The Empress lifted her hand, motioning for silence, ¡°I will waste no time in conveying my agenda from this day forward.¡±

    The officials in the room looked attentively at the Empress, waiting to hear what she has to say. Ries tried her best to listen.

    ¡°From today onwards, by my authority, the position of Prime Minister will be suspended indefinitely, and all laws must go through the royal court to be reviewed and approved.¡±

    Gasps filled the room, Ries was too tired to even react to that declaration.

    The Empress continued, ignoring the gaps, ¡°This is to ensure that all governance aligns directly with the crown¡¯s vision for the future, which necessitates a more centralized and efficient decision-making process.¡±

    ¡°All ministers will report directly to me,¡± the Empress declared. ¡°There will be no intermediary. I have the authority to dismiss anyone that fails to meet my expectations. Dismissed.¡±

    Ries didn¡¯t waste any time to get up and exit the room. Today was hectic, no doubt about that. It was only her first day on the job, and already lost sleep time.

    She still had many issues needed to be dealt with in order to maintain her fa?ade, but that can wait. She needed sleep badly, everything could wait for a few precious hours of sleep.

    It was in the afternoon when she almost reached her house. A small dilapidated but cozy house in an alleyway. In contrast to her fancy suit and title, she should buy a new mansion once she received her first paycheck.

    She fumbled with the key, her exhaustion making the simple task feel monumental, ¡°Come on¡­ just slide in there!¡± she muttered, frustration mounting as the key refused to cooperate.

    Finally, the lock clicked, and she pushed the door open.

    Finally! She could get a much-needed rest!

    Just a few hours!

    Her excitement was short-lived. As the door creaked open, she was met by the end of a gun barrel. There was no time to react, no chance to defend herself. The last thing she saw was a pair of cold, calculating blue eyes before everything went black.

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    Ries slowly opened her eyes, her vision blurry and her head throbbing. She was in a dimly lit room, which she recognized as her kitchen, and tied to a chair. The ropes dug into her skin, and she could feel a trickle of blood from where they had cut too deep.

    Her mind was still hazy, and her vision was not quite clear. Every pulse of her headache felt like a hammer blow, making it hard to think straight. As her senses gradually returned, she noticed the faint scent of a freshly made soup. She didn¡¯t make it, did she?

    Blinking hard, she tried to focus on her surroundings. The dim light cast long shadows, making everything seem distorted. She could just make out the outline of a figure standing nearby.

    ¡°Great¡­ just when I want to sleep¡­¡± she silently laments.

    "Ah, you''re awake," the figure said, stepping into the light. It was the same person she had seen before losing consciousness, a short-haired woman with those cold blue eyes, bowl of soup in hand.

    Ries blinked, she knows who this is. She recalls having a conversation with Robert the bartender at the adventurer¡¯s guild about an S-rank adventurer turned mercenary who hails from the west.

    ¡°Are you Azazel?¡± She questioned.

    The figure hums, tilting her head slightly, ¡°So you know me. Ironic that I¡¯m supposed to know you, Anise.¡± She narrows her eyes at Ries.

    ¡°Wh- what do you mean?¡± Ries¡¯ voice was shaky.

    ¡°I personally knew Anise. Not friends, but I know damn well for a fact that Anise wasn¡¯t a Beastmen.¡± She said with a sharp voice.

    Ries swallowed hard, her thoughts a jumble of panic and desperation, "I... I don''t know what you''re talking about."

    Azazel put the bowl of soup down on the table with a clink, "Oh, but I think you do. You¡¯re not Anise, you didn¡¯t pass the Imperial Examination, and you aren¡¯t a Human." She picked up a kitchen knife and, with a swift move, threw it at Ries.

    Ries braced for the impact, but it never came. The knife embedded itself in the wall just inches above her head.

    "The next throw won¡¯t miss, I can guarantee you that," Azazel said in a cold voice, "So tell me, who are you and what did you do to Anise?"

    Ries gulped, her fear mounting. She had to think fast, "I-I don¡¯t know, okay? I¡¯m just some random passerby who was suddenly mistaken as some sort of official because of how I dressed! I don¡¯t even know who Anise is! It wasn¡¯t my intention to impersonate her!"

    Azazel''s eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it, "Mistaken for an official because of how you dressed? That''s a poor excuse, the Empire is many things but they aren¡¯t stupid to assume someone like you, who is especially a Beastmen, to be someone important. Try again."

    ¡°Look, back then, I was hiding from western adventurers, adventurers like you who is hunting my kind for sport! And it¡¯s not like I have any choice either! The soldiers escorted me to a room and one of the people there just assumed I was the new Deputy Minister!¡± Ries said with gnashed teeth, ¡°The Empire is obviously better on how they treat their Beastmen!¡±

    Azazel''s expression didn''t soften, "And they didn''t question it? No background checks? No verification?" She scoffed at the part where Ries mentioned the treatment of Beastmen.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    "It all happened so fast," Ries continued, desperation creeping into her voice, "I was in the right place at the right time¡ªor the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on how you see it. I didn¡¯t correct them because I was scared for my life, do you know what the punishment for posing as an Imperial official is?! They just gave me the role, and I went along with it."

    Azazel sighed, rubbing her temples as if trying to ward off a headache, "Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"

    "I know it sounds insane, but it''s the truth!" Ries insisted, "I was trying to survive, and before I knew it, I was in too deep to back out! Please, you have to believe me!"

    Azazel locked her eyes with Ries, ¡°If you¡¯re lying to me, you¡¯re not going to have an easy end.¡±

    Ries nodded vigorously, "I understand. I''m telling you the truth."

    Azazel broke eye contact and scoffed, "Fine. For now, I''ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But you¡¯re not off the hook. You will help me find out what really happened to Anise. If you cooperate, I¡¯ll help you survive and not get executed for impersonation."

    Ries swallowed hard, "I¡¯ll do whatever it takes. Just, please, don''t kill me."

    ¡°Good. You look civilized for a Beastmen.¡± She remarks as she picks up the previous bowl of soup and took a spoonful.

    ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡± Ries wanted to be angry, but not when she was still tied to the chair and at the mercy of this strange woman.

    Azazel shrugged nonchalantly, "Just an observation. Most Beastmen I''ve encountered are wild, barely able to function in human society, even if they are free. They are still tribal in a sense. You, on the other hand, seem to have adapted quite well."

    Ries bristled at the comment but held her tongue, "Thanks, I guess," she muttered, unsure whether to take it as a compliment or an insult.

    Azazel set the bowl of soup down in front of her, "Eat. You''ll need your strength."

    Ries eyed the soup warily, then looked up at Azazel. "Untie me first."

    Azazel hummed, before reaching behind her and untied the ropes, ¡°don¡¯t try anything stupid.¡±

    Ries rubbed her wrists, feeling the sting of the rope burns. She picked up the bowl and started to eat, realizing just how hungry she was she forgot her fatigue. The soup was surprisingly good, warming her from the inside.

    As she ate, Azazel watched her carefully. "Since you¡¯re Deputy Minister, you¡¯ll have access to important documents. I want you to search the Imperial Central Registry Office for any of her trace.¡±

    Ries nodded between mouthfuls, "Okay¡­ but what happens if I don''t find anything?"

    ¡°We¡¯ll do more digging. She can¡¯t just vanish into thin air, can she? I¡¯ll need your authority as Deputy Minister, so practice your¡­ commanding presence, I guess?¡± She shrugged.

    Ries sighed, setting the empty bowl down, "I can try, but I¡¯m not exactly experienced in this role. This is all new to me."

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re someone important now, act like it.¡± Azazel replied, sitting down on a dusty old couch which made her cough a bit.

    Ries silently cursed her, she doesn¡¯t like being told what to do, ¡°alright, I¡¯ll try my best.¡±

    ¡°Good¡­ but, I have a question. A simple question really.¡± Azazel turned to Ries.

    ¡°what is it?¡±

    ¡°Do you even know the Empire you¡¯re serving right now?¡± Azazel questioned.

    Ries was taken aback, "I¡­ I know the basics. I know its history, its laws, its structure. Why do you ask?"

    ¡°Alright. Tell me what you know.¡±

    ¡°is¡­ are you trying to gain information from me? I know you¡¯re from the west.¡±

    Azazel rolled her eyes, ¡°Please, I don¡¯t care about this heretical empire. I probably know more than you. Now answer me.¡±

    Ries thought for a moment, ¡°The Empire of Valeria is¡­ An empire ruled by the Empress and¡­ sees itself superior?¡±

    Azazel looked at her with deadpan eye, ¡°yep, you¡¯re clueless.¡± She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, ¡°Look, you¡¯re politically illiterate, I¡¯ll give you the benefit of the doubt. The Empire is more than just a political entity. It¡¯s a nation, and the Empress herself IS the nation.¡±

    Ries frowned, ¡°¡­What does that mean?¡±

    Azazel leaned back, trying to find a way to simplify it, ¡°Look, you were from a tribe, right? What¡¯s the power structure there?¡±

    ¡°Well, my father is the Chief. He¡¯s the leader, the protector, and the guide of our tribe. He is chosen from the council of elders and is the strongest member of the tribe.¡± Ries quickly explained.

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Azazel said. ¡°In your tribe, the Chief isn¡¯t just a leader, he¡¯s the embodiment of your people¡¯s strength, their will, their spirit, chosen by the experienced elders to guide the tribe, isn¡¯t that right?¡±

    Ries nodded, ¡°Yes, the Chief is chosen to lead and represent our tribe because he is the strongest amongst them.¡±

    ¡°The Empress is the same, but on a grander scale. Her decisions, her policies, her presence¡ªeverything she does and represents¡ªis the Empire.¡± Azazel explained.

    Ries nodded understandingly, ¡°So, every decision she makes, every action she takes, is seen as the will of the Empire itself?¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡± Azazel nodded, ¡°The Imperial governance stems from their religious philosophy, which dictates that the Empress is also the Archon of the Drakorian faith, and therefore she is the living incarnation of the law.¡±

    Ries sat there silent. It was all new to her. Granted, she didn¡¯t particularly care about the Empire all that much when she was an adventurer, a sentiment that is shared by a majority of the people.

    ¡°Which is why you should understand the position you¡¯re in. Every action you take, every word you utter, will be seen as an extension of the Empress¡¯ will.¡± Azazel finished.

    Ries sighed, the weight of her new reality settling on her shoulders, ¡°I understand. I¡¯ll do my best.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Azazel says as she stood up, ¡°Here, use this to contact me.¡± She threw a small orb at Ries¡¯ direction, which she barely managed to catch.

    ¡°What is this?¡± Ries question as she studied the dim orb.

    ¡°A communication orb. It allows for instantaneous communication between us no matter where we are. Just pour your mana into it and it will light up.¡± Azazel pulls out her own communication orb from her robe and it shined into a bright blue color.

    The orb in Ries¡¯ hand began to light up, and after she hesitantly pours mana into it, she saw the face of Azazel and her surroundings¡ªwhich included Ries herself¡ªin the orb.

    ¡°Whoa¡­¡±

    ¡°Fascinating, isn¡¯t it?¡± Azazel¡¯s faces gave out a rare smirk, ¡°The Empire isn¡¯t the only ones making breakthroughs.¡±

    ¡°So I can call you anytime with this?¡± Ries put the orb down carefully on the table.

    ¡°Not anytime but when you feel it necessary.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡± Ries nodded.

    ¡°Good.¡± Azazel turned to leave, pausing at the door, ¡°Remember, keep your promise, and you won¡¯t die. Got it?¡±

    With that, she exited, leaving Ries alone in her house. As soon as the door closed behind Azazel, Ries let out a huge sigh she didn¡¯t realize she was holding. She collapsed onto the sofa, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

    The old couch creaked under her weight, and the dust tickled her nose, making her sneeze. She buried her face in her hands, trying to process everything that had just happened. The adrenaline that had kept her going was finally wearing off, and the exhaustion hit her like a ton of bricks.

    ¡°Ahh¡­ Fuck my life.¡± She muttered before closing her eyes and drifted to sleep.

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    She woke up quite late. The rays of sunshine shone through her windows and exposing the dust particles in the air. She slowly opened her eyes and lazily looked around her.

    Small dim orb? Check.

    Wearing an exquisite suit? Check.

    She put her hand to the left of her chest. Imperial brooch? Check.

    She reached for her pockets and pulled out a silver card. ID card? Check.

    She thought for a moment that she seemed to have made a huge mistake, and contemplated what would¡¯ve happened if she instead came out honest to Eden when she was escorted into that meeting room.

    Surely they¡¯d listen to reason, right? Eden has been nothing but nice to her.

    She slowly got up and rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Her body still felt heavy, but the hours spent on sleeping for the rest of yesterday had done her some good. She knew she couldn¡¯t dwell on what-ifs. The reality of her situation was pressing, and she had to move forward.

    Ries glanced at the communication orb on the table, remembering Azazel¡¯s stern warning and the task she had been given. She had to find out what happened to Anise, not just for the real Anise¡¯s sake but also for her own survival. Truth be told she doesn¡¯t want to die yet. She still had to prove her father that she is strong.

    She made her way to the small bathroom, took a bath, and let the warm water wash away some of her tension. As the steam filled the room, she allowed herself a few moments of peace. She couldn¡¯t afford to relax too much, but she needed this brief respite to gather her thoughts.

    After finishing her bath, she looked at her reflection in the cracked mirror, she took a deep breath, trying to muster some form of confidence. She isn¡¯t qualified to be a government official, she isn¡¯t educated, she isn¡¯t even the same religion as the majority of them. But she needed to act the part.

    She needed to act like a real official. She needed to play the part of Deputy Minister, even if she felt completely out of her depth.

    ¡°Fake it ¡®till you make it, right?¡± She mused at her reflection.

    She didn¡¯t need to be qualified. She just had to be convincing.

    Ries dressed in her suit again, pinned the imperial brooch to her chest, tucked the ID card into her pocket, and picked up the communication orb. The orb felt strangely comforting in her hand, maybe it was because of Azazel¡¯s reassurance? She carefully hid it inside her suit.

    Before heading out, she checked her wallet and confirmed she is still wealthy. Courtesy of the small leisure fund Eden provided. She reached for her cupboard and picked up a bottle of very strong Valkorian alcohol. She eyed the bottle for a moment, contemplating whether she should take a swig to steady her nerves.

    After a second had passed, she shrugs and opens the bottle.

    ¡°Might as well¡± she thought as she downed the bottle in one sitting.

    The alcohol burned its way down her throat, but the warmth that followed was almost comforting. Ries felt a slight buzz as the tension in her shoulders eased a bit. She knew it wasn''t the best way to handle her stress, but at the moment, it was the easiest.

    She wiped her mouth and burps. Setting down the empty bottle and straightened her suit once more before stepping outside.

    As she was walking down the street, Ries felt more relaxed as the alcohol dulled her anxiety. She was absentmindedly walking when she realized she could just hail a carriage to save time. But as she thought of that, she stopped in front of an expensive-looking tailoring shop. Eden did say that as long as the suit was black, she was free to modify it.

    Ries looked at her reflection in the shop¡¯s window, then back at the elegant designs displayed inside. Perhaps a little customization could help her feel more confident in her role.

    She pushed open the door and stepped inside. She was immediately hit with the fragrance of an expensive shop. A well-dressed old man approached her.

    ¡°Good day, ma¡¯am. How may I assist you?¡± he asked, his eyes assessing her current attire and noting the brooch she had.

    ¡°I¡¯m looking to modify my suit,¡± Ries said, showing him her black ensemble, ¡°I want it to be more¡­ distinctive.¡±

    The tailor nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Of course. We can certainly make some adjustments to suit your needs. Do you have any specific changes in mind?¡±

    Ries spent the next hours or so inside the tailor shop, the total price was 30 Virs, and the suit would be ready tomorrow. She exited the tailor shop and made her way to the Imperial government complex, where guards saluted her when she walked in.

    She found her way into her office by remembering the directions Eden showed.

    Now that she had a proper look at her office, it¡¯s really neat. Behind her desk was a window that overlooked a wide field inside the complex mainly used for ceremonial purposes. There were also bookshelves filled with a variety of books so she could do her research into the Empire without going anywhere.

    And hell, there¡¯s even an aquarium with small, colorful fishes! Who wouldn¡¯t love that?

    She sat down on her desk and leaned in causing her to relax. She could get used to this¡­

    A knock followed by a voice interrupted her from her decadent thinking, ¡°Pardon me.¡±

    She straightened her posture and cleared her throat, ¡°Come in.¡±

    And in came a petite girl pushing a cart filled with stacks upon stacks of papers.

    ¡°Good morning, Madam Deputy Minister. I am Clarissa, your assistant.¡± She bows before handing pulling up a stack of papers and setting it down with a thud on Ries¡¯ desk, ¡°This is today¡¯s work.¡±

    Ries paled upon hearing that. She actually had to work?!

 Part IV: An augur start

    If Ries could describe her current job, it would be hell. Not because of the constant busy noise from outside her office, but because she is buried under mountains upon mountains of paperwork. They just keep coming by the minute!

    She had expected bureaucracy; she had even mentally prepared herself for it. But she didn¡¯t anticipate the overwhelming deluge of documents to review, reports to sign, and requests to process. It was relentless. Requests for building permits, permission to organize public events, amendments, authorizations, permits for this, that, and those. Her head could explode.

    She isn¡¯t the only one working, of course. She had Clarissa beside her and the hundreds of clerks toiling away in their own office space typing furiously in the typewriters, sharing her workload. She was barely keeping her head above the water.

    Her head started to spin, thanks to the alcohol she had consumed earlier in the morning. She rubbed her eyes and grabbed another paper, trying to focus. The words blurred momentarily. She groaned and facepalmed into the desk.

    ¡°Clarissa,¡± she weakly called out to her assistant, who, weirdly enough, did not seem burdened by the paperwork. Rather, she seemed to be enjoying it.

    ¡°Humans are weird.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡± Clarissa looked up to face the tired and lifeless Ries, who was leaning against her desk amongst stacks of paper.

    ¡°Bring me coffee¡­¡± Ries lazily demanded, burying her face in the desk.

    Clarissa nodded and stood up. ¡°Very well. What type of coffee do you want?¡±

    ¡°Whatever can bring me back to life. Please.¡±

    Clarissa¡¯s nod went unnoticed by Ries as she left the office to fetch the coffee.

    After the door closed with a click, Ries groaned, rubbing her eyes, and looked around her office. The once clean, sparkling, and well-decorated private office was now littered with papers everywhere.

    As she waited, Ries closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself a brief respite. The office was quiet, save for the distant clacking of typewriters.

    It is for the umpteenth time that she realized she is definitely NOT fit for this job AT ALL. Everybody here seemed lifeless, their soul has been drained from their body as if it¡¯s the grim reaper¡¯s doing, or sucked by a vampire. Either way it¡¯s the same.

    She carefully picked up the blue orb from her suit and channeled her mana into it. The orb glowed softly, and within moments, Azazel¡¯s face appeared, her expression as stoic as ever.

    ¡°Ries, didn¡¯t expect you to call so soon.¡± Azazel said curtly. ¡°Any progress?¡±

    Ries sighed. ¡°I haven¡¯t had the time to even take a break, and I¡¯m barely keeping up with the paperwork here.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± She hums. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s reasonable given your tired face. You should get used to it. I remembered I dislike doing paperwork for the same reason you¡¯re experiencing.¡±

    ¡°Because it¡¯s endless and soul-crushing? Because it drains your lifeforce away like a Vampire?¡± Ries guessed.

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Azazel said, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips, ¡°That, and I prefer being free in nature.¡±

    ¡°So, any advice on how to survive this hell?" Ries asked.

    ¡°Well do your best,¡± She offered nothing of valuable.

    ¡°Ughh¡­¡±

    ¡°Look,¡± Azazel thought for a moment, ¡°Meet me during your break. I¡¯ll wait at a corner restaurant named La¡¯Delicaza.¡±

    Ries perked up a bit, "La¡¯Delicaza? Got it. I¡¯ll be there."

    Azazel nodded, "Good. See you then."

    The orb¡¯s glow faded, and Ries placed it back in her suit. She glanced at the stack of paperwork towering on her desk and took a deep breath. One step at a time, she reminded herself.

    The door opened again just in time for Clarissa to bring her coffee. "Here. It¡¯s black coffee," she said, setting the steaming cup on Ries'' desk.

    Ries took a sip, wincing at the bitterness, "Thanks, Clarissa. I needed this." She asked for a wake-up call, she certainly got one.

    Clarissa smiled sympathetically and fixed her glasses, "Is there anything else you need?"

    Ries shook her head, ¡°No, this will do for now.¡±

    Clarissa nodded and returned to her own desk, leaving Ries to her mountain of documents. To which the colors are already drained from her face.

    Hours passed as she slogged through report after report, occasionally taking a bitter sip of her coffee. The monotony was only broken when she glanced at the clock and realized it was almost time for her break. She quickly finished up the last document of the God knows how much pile.

    The walk to La¡¯Delicaza was brisk, and the fresh air helped clear her mind. It was a few blocks away according to the directions provided by the guard. The bustling streets of the capital were filled with people going about their daily business, she could spot some Elves, Dwarves, and other Beastmen among the crowd.

    You know what? She didn¡¯t feel like walking to the restaurant. As the guard said, it was a few blocks away from her current location. So she decided to take the tram, which to her knowledge is free to use by everyone. Not that she ever used them before, but she should try new things, right?

    She made her way to the nearest tram stop on the side of the street, the bustling noise of the city surrounding her. The tram arrived with a gentle hum, and Ries stepped inside, finding a seat by the window. As the tram glided smoothly along its tracks, she watched the city pass by, taking in the sights and sounds she rarely had the chance to enjoy.

    Or rather, she never had the time to enjoy.

    She was too busy doing quests and running around the Empire that she didn¡¯t exactly have free time. Her routine back then consisted of waking up, sometimes shower, take on some quests on the requests board, drink, then sleep.

    Repetitive as it is, it¡¯s less boring than her current ¡®job¡¯. Something to be proud of is her reaching C-rank in a matter of months. Something that few people could do solo.

    The tram ride was short, and soon she arrived at her stop. Stepping off, she followed the directions the guard had given her and found herself standing in front of La¡¯Delicaza. The restaurant had a charming exterior, with ivy-covered walls and a welcoming sign.

    Pushing the door open, she was greeted by the cozy atmosphere of the restaurant. The aroma of freshly baked bread and rich coffee filled the air, instantly making her feel at ease. She spotted Azazel sitting at a table by the window, her eyes scanning the street outside. She made her way to Azazel, who greeted her with a nod.

    "Hey," Ries said as she slid into the seat across from Azazel.

    "Hello," Azazel replied, she sips her coffee, "How¡¯s the paperwork?"

    ¡°Dreadful.¡± Ries sighs, ¡°I wasn¡¯t prepared for this¡­¡±

    ¡°You never were, actually,¡± Azazel replied curtly, ¡°It was Anise¡¯s role.¡±

    Ries frowned, ¡°Yeah, I know. Why do you want to meet me now? I still haven¡¯t checked the Registry Office.¡±

    Azazel set her cup of coffee down, ¡°Well then do it right now.¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow, ¡°Right now? I¡¯m technically still on break, you know? I can¡¯t just run off and not do my work.¡±

    ¡°That would be troublesome if you¡¯re a pleb. Currently, you are¡­¡± Azazel leaned in.

    ¡°¡­ someone important¡­¡± Ries completed her sentence.

    Azazel laid back, satisfied with her answer, ¡°There you go. Just tell your superior you had something to take care of.¡± She pointed at a telephone booth just across the street, ¡°Start there.¡±

    Ries glanced at the direction at where Azazel pointed, ¡°Really?¡± She looked back at her, ¡°you¡¯re telling me to fuck off?¡±

    Azazel looked unamused, but her eyes had a glint of amusement, ¡°Maybe I am, maybe I¡¯m not. Regardless, that¡¯s your starting point. Use it.¡±

    Ries took a deep breath, trying to curb her frustration, ¡°How do I even know where to look for her files? Aren¡¯t the Registry Office holds most of the information in the Empire?¡±

    ¡°All, all of the information, actually,¡± Azazel corrected her, ¡°It¡¯s the CENTRAL Registry Office. All of the files and documents from across the empire is there in that building.¡±

    ¡°Hold on,¡± Ries paused, processing the information, ¡°So, you¡¯re telling me that every single document, from birth records to classified state secrets, is kept in one place? Just like that?¡±

    Azazel nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right. It¡¯s heavily guarded and very well organized, err, that might be an understatement. You should see for yourself, but if you know what you¡¯re looking for, you can find almost anything. Anise¡¯s records will be there.¡±

    ¡°How do you know all this? You¡¯re not Imperial, you¡¯re western.¡± Ries questioned.

    ¡°I had a lot of business in the empire. Spent most of my time here too, adventurer and mercenary work, that is.¡± She leaned back, ¡°Truth is, I wanted to find Anise is because she owes me money.¡±

    Ries blinked, ¡°She owes you? Owes you what?¡± her eyebrows furrowing at her statement.

    ¡°Money. Duh,¡± She took a sip, ¡°But on a serious note, she asked me to gather high-grade alchemy materials. For what purpose? Not that I care back then, but now, I¡¯ve realized.¡± She set the cup on the table and looked at Ries.

    ¡°¡­ What did she make?¡± Ries slowly spoke, her eyes focusing on Azazel¡¯s.

    ¡°There is a hyperactive drug whose effects are potent, but also deadly,¡± She stated matter-of-factly, ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s what she made.¡±

    ¡°But why?¡± Ries was unsure whether or not to be shocked or surprised, ¡°Why would she make it?¡±

    Azazel let¡¯s out a tired sigh, ¡°The drug has effects that can induce hyperactivity in the brain, which leads to an expanded capacity for cognitive functions¡ªat least temporarily,¡± She stated, ¡°People using it can solve complex problems, process information at incredible speeds, and think more creatively than ever before. But the side effects...¡± She trailed.

    ¡°And the side effects?¡± Ries unknowingly leaned a bit on the table, ¡°What are they?¡±

    ¡°Severe psychological damage as well as severe mana drains. It destroys your body from the inside, leading to insanity and more than likely, death.¡± Azazel said.

    ¡°¡­¡± Ries couldn¡¯t say anything at that revelation. So Anise created a potent drug for temporary brain enhancement, if that¡¯s what she should call it. What¡¯s been on her mind then, after this revelation was the chance that Anise used the drug to cheat on the Imperial Examination.

    ¡°Could Anise have used this drug on herself?¡± Ries wondered aloud, her voice barely a whisper.

    Azazel nodded slowly, ¡°It¡¯s possible. I don¡¯t blame her though. From what I heard, the Imperial Examination is the hardest test in the empire.¡±

    ¡°Damn it,¡± She silently slammed the table, ¡°and now that burden is on me.¡±

    Azazel didn¡¯t comment on that and sipped on her cup. She looked at her wristwatch and stood up, ¡°I have to go.¡±

    Without any more words exchanged, she left. Just like that.

    Typical,¡± she muttered under her breath. ¡°Leaving me to fend for myself.¡±

    She took a deep breath. She needed to get inside the Records Office, find information about Anise¡¯s disappearance, and get out without drawing too much attention. Time was ticking; it was already past noon, and she had to act quickly.

    The Records Office wasn¡¯t inside the government complex; instead, it was located near the Imperial Palace, ¡°What are the chances I can just waltz right in?¡± she thought.

    After taking the tram and a brisk walk later, she approached the imposing building. She noticed the steady flow of bureaucrats and officials entering and leaving the building. Perhaps blending in wouldn¡¯t be as difficult as she initially thought. She straightened her suit, adjusted the imperial brooch on her chest, and took a deep breath before walking confidently, or so she tried to, towards the entrance.

    As she reached the main door the guard barely glanced at her before waving her through. The interior of the Records Office was grand and orderly, with marble floors and the chattering of civil servants. She made her way to the front desk, where a bespectacled clerk sat.

    ¡°Good afternoon,¡± Ries said, trying to project authority, ¡°I¡¯m Deputy Minister Anise. I need access to citizen records immediately.¡±

    The clerk looked up, adjusting his glasses as he scrutinized her, "Deputy Minister Anise, you say?"

    "Yes," Ries replied, "I need access to citizen records immediately. There¡¯s an inconsistency that needs to be addressed urgently. Oh, uhm, Minister Eden authorized this."

    The clerk''s gaze softened slightly at the mention of Minister Eden, "Ah, I see. Minister Eden, you say? Very well, Deputy Minister. Please follow me."

    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    Ries exhaled discreetly, relieved that Eden''s name carried weight. Hopefully he won¡¯t mind her using his name wantonly. The clerk led her through a labyrinth of corridors, each lined with rows of filing cabinets and busy offices with rows of people queue in line for official matters.

    She silently cursed before putting up a smile, ¡°Thank you, I can manage from here.¡±

    The clerk nodded and left her alone in the vast room. The sheer number of records was daunting, but she couldn¡¯t afford to waste time. She made her way to the central indexing station, a massive set of drawers labeled with different categories. Pulling open the drawer marked ¡°A¡± for Anise, she began her search.

    They reached a stairwell that leads underground where it became less crowded and the crowd of civilians turned to steady stream of suited civil servants walking with folders in hand. The clerk led her to a hoist elevator that descended further down.

    The clerk opened the gate to the elevator, ¡°You¡¯ll be entering the Central Records. Everything you require is in there.¡± She gestures for her to get in the lift.

    Ries carefully stepped into the lift as it made creaking noise. The door closed behind her with a clang and startled her before it made its descent. The air grew cooler as she went deeper, the noise from above were replaced by the hum of the lift.

    When it finally stopped, the door opened to reveal a monotone room made of gray stone, with drawers in each and every wall and shelves on the floors, each organized by letter, date, and classifications by the looks of it. The organization gave her a glimmer of hope. Not to mention, she wasn''t alone. There were people here too¡ªauditors, clerks, and officials¡ªbusily checking and organizing documents. The presence of others reassured her. At least she isn¡¯t alone in this large room.

    Where to begin to look for Anise¡¯s files?

    Fortunately, she saw a large sign that says ¡®ACC¡¯ in big letters. That must be where they keep the ACC files. She began to walk towards that room whilst also looking around at the well-kept and well-organized shelves.

    The fact that the empire has an entire underground facility dedicated to storing documents is beyond Ries¡¯ imagination. Her first guess was that those documents must be kept at the imperial palace or some other noble¡¯s hands. Even if it is kept in the records office, she thought it would be more productive to store the documents above ground. But if it works, it works.

    Reaching the ACC section, she was presented with aisles of drawers, each one marked to differentiate each other, starting with A and ending with Z. Thankfully, since Anise¡¯s name starts with A, she didn¡¯t need to look further. But that relieve was short-lived as Ries soon realized she had to find Anise among possible millions of names starting with ¡®A¡¯

    The drawers were organized in a way where each column of drawers was labeled with different letters and went up vertically, with the lowest marked ¡®AA¡¯ to the highest marked ¡®AZ.¡¯ And so on and so forth for other letters. She had to use the ladder to reach the higher drawers, it seemed.

    Sighing, she moved the ladder to the ¡®AN¡¯ column and climbed up to one of the higher drawers. She opened it and started to search for Anise¡¯s files. The drawer was filled with neatly organized folders, each one meticulously labeled. She flipped through the files, her fingers moving quickly but carefully.

    Minutes turned into what felt like hours as she worked her way through the drawer. The sheer volume of files and folders was overwhelming, and she wished she had a cup of coffee with her to stave off the fatigue. She flipped through the names: Andyn, Anna, Anor... Finally, her eyes perked up as she spotted it: "Anise!"

    She felt an enormous weight was removed from her shoulders as she pulled the folder out from the drawer. She opened the folder and begin to look for any signs of Anise¡¯s whereabouts. Surely it would be here?

    Birth certificate, personal records, banking information, address¡ªRies carefully sifted through each document. Anise was born to a commoner family in a small town called Auldren, hence her lack of a last name. Her educational records were impressive, showing consistent excellence and repeated competition wins, which struck Ries as inconsistent with the use of the hyperactive drug. So then why?

    Her eyes landed on a particularly odd record in her recent bank statements, "A large withdrawal?" It was dated no less than a week ago. A pattern of sudden financial activity might indicate a planned disappearance or urgent need. But why?The banking statement did not specify her reason or anything of note, so she looked to other documents.

    Health history, dental records, licenses¡ªwait! What if it¡¯s connected to her address?

    She lived in a modest house near a park, but she might not be there right now. However, it also details her parent¡¯s house, which is in Auldren.

    Well that¡¯s that, she supposed. Time to get back to Azazel and report her findings.

    ¡­

    ¡­

    How does one change their ACC into another person¡¯s ACC? She¡¯d grown to like her job. Not necessarily like, but she needed it. If Ries wants to keep her job as Deputy Minister she had to get her hands dirty, and change identity completely.

    If Anise is found to be alive, it could threaten her and potentially send her to jail for impersonation.

    She frowns. Anise had to be out of the picture. One way or another.

    <hr>

    The ascent felt long. Maybe it was because of her exhaustion or maybe it was because the hoist struggled to carry around five people at once. Whatever the reason, Ries was relieved to see the sky again, albeit it¡¯s already sunset. She carried a folder with her containing Anise¡¯s documents, which she had copied beforehand. Intending to meet with Azazel right away, she pulled out the orb and called for her.

    The orb glowed faintly in her hand, ¡°Azazel, it¡¯s me. I¡¯ve got the documents, where should we meet?¡± Ries whispered into the orb.

    After a brief moment, the orb responded with Azazel¡¯s voice, ¡°Really? Uh, that¡¯s great.¡±

    Ries could hear the sounds of monsters screaming and bushes rustling over in Azazel¡¯s side. ¡°Azazel, what¡¯s going on over there?¡±

    ¡°Nothing I can¡¯t handle,¡± Azazel replied, her voice slightly strained. A shout was heard and the clash of blades. ¡°Just a minor... complication¡­¡±

    ¡°Are you okay? Where should I go?¡±

    A loud growl and another clash of metal followed by gunshots echoed through the orb before Azazel answered, ¡±Light work, really. Mercenary work, mostly. You know what, you should go back to your work¡ªwoah damn!¡±

    ¡°Go back to work? What? Aren¡¯t we supposed to meet to discuss plans?¡± Ries half-shouted in to the orb.

    ¡°Look, I know that I promised. But I have a quest I need to complete. So contact me ¡®till then.¡± The orb immediately fades back as Azazel¡¯s words were cut off.

    Ries stared at the orb for a few seconds, ¡°Dipshit.¡±

    Ries quickly pocketed the orb and made a beeline back to the governance complex. This time, she didn¡¯t bother flashing her brooch or id card. The guard there seemed to know her already and it also helped she looked like someone important so they didn¡¯t stop her.

    Upon reaching her office, the expected stacks of paper were nowhere to be seen and her office returned to what it once was, clean and spotless. It washed a huge wave of relieve over her, knowing she hadn¡¯t returned to a bureaucratic minefield.

    But there were a few things she noticed. On her desk were papers¡ªnot documents to review, but rundowns for notable events she, as Deputy Minister, should be present at.

    ¡°Deputy Minister?¡± She turned to see Clarissa at the door, ¡°The Minister wants to see you.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± Ries asked incredulously, ¡°Is this because I ran off during my break?¡± She thought worriedly.

    ¡°Yes, he is waiting at the office,¡± Clarissa nodded.

    Ries took a deep breath, ¡°Well then, lead the way,¡± She smiled at Clarissa who led her down the hallway. Before doing so, she straightened her suit and tried to look composed.

    Clarissa opened the door to the Minister¡¯s office, and Ries stepped inside. Minister Eden was with Minister Ryman in looking analytically at a board with names. Eden was the first to notice her presence.

    ¡°Ah, Anise,¡± He said in a neutral tone before looking back at the board.

    Ries slowly composed herself before talking, ¡°Minister Eden, Minister Ryman,¡± she greeted them both slowly with a nod.

    Eden motioned for her to join them at the board, ¡°We¡¯re been reviewing our strategy going forward,¡± he said, ¡°the Empress abolishing the Premiership isn¡¯t what we expected. Not this quickly at least.¡±

    Ries slowly walked beside the two ministers and looked at the board. It was filled with hundreds of names, each categorized in columns: Neutral, Royalist, Noble, Lean-Royalist, and Lean-Noble.

    Eden pointed to the board, ¡°With the Premiership gone, the political landscape is shifting rapidly. We need to understand where everyone stands, especially those who were previously neutral. The Empress''s move has forced many to take sides,¡± He explains.

    Ryman clears his throat, ¡°What we¡¯re trying to do, and what Eden is trying to say, we¡¯re aiming for a censure on the Empress to restore the Premiership.¡± He explained.

    Ries blinked, unsure of what to say, ¡°A censure?¡± What¡¯s that?

    ¡°Indeed. Though it may seem the Empress has all the power, us nobles still have significant influence over the empire. Limited as it may,¡± Eden walked to his desk, grabbed a cupcake, and offered it to her. ¡°Cupcake?¡±

    ¡°Uhm, sure.¡± She grabbed the cupcake.

    Ryman sat down at the couch and let out a huge sigh, ¡°Your minister has been busy after the coronation. Been reaching out to nobles and whatnot to take a united stand against Overreaching Imperial Authority.¡±

    Eden replied, with cupcake still in his mouth, ¡°Mmm. That¡¯s a concern you know. Some call it tyranny.¡±

    Ryman scoffed and lit a cigar, ¡°Tyranny? You¡¯re never the one to talk about those types of things, Eden.¡± He puffs the cigar and blew a thick smoke, ¡°Someone¡¯s mad he¡¯s not getting Premiership anytime soon.¡±

    Eden holds up his hand for a while and swallowed the cupcake. ¡°Premiership or not, it is our duty to safeguard the laws of this empire. The Empress abolished the Premiership without consulting us, so now we must fight back.¡±

    ¡°But calling for a censure to reinstate the Premiership? You¡¯d need a super-majority of nobles to agree to that,¡± Ryman rolled his eyes, ¡°That¡¯s not easily feasible.¡±

    ¡°Including us, that¡¯s two.¡± Eden¡¯s response triggered Ryman to roll his eyes.

    Ries'' eyes darted between the two ministers, feeling out of her depth. This was the type of political maneuverings she had hoped to avoid. She wasn¡¯t an expert, nor is she a proper noble like they are.

    Eden poured cups of tea before setting them on the table. "Here, enjoy. It''s pure Lynchen."

    "Lynchen? What, so now the Elves can trade freely?" Ryman raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Such is the price of progress.¡± Eden shrugs, ¡°Come on, don¡¯t be shy.¡±

    Ries took a cup and blew it lightly, "What''s the plan for gathering support?" she asked, trying to sound like she understood everything.

    Eden took a sip of his tea before wiping it with a cloth and replying, "We need to identify key nobles who might be sympathetic to our cause¡ªthose who have felt marginalized by the Empress'' recent actions.¡± He explained, ¡°Your job will be to reach out to them, explain our position, and convince them to join us."

    He pointed at the board, which Ries¡¯ eyes followed. "We''ve categorized the possible candidates. Best action is to focus on the neutrals and those leaning towards our side."

    Ries opened her mouth to speak before Ryman beat her to it and blew a puff of smoke in her direction. "Which means it¡¯ll be more complicated since those nobles are divided even more by their loyalty to respective lords and personal interests."

    Eden nodded slowly. "Correct. Counts and below tend to follow the highest-ranked noble, Dukes. Marquises tend to go their own way."

    Ries took a deep breath. "Wait, wait, wait. Can you both at least run me through this?"

    Eden stood up and put on his glasses. "These are my reading glasses," he said with a small smile.

    "We know what they are, Eden. Take it away," Ryman waved dismissively.

    Eden sighed. "Right, look at this board," he began, pointing to the various names and categories. "This section here lists the Neutral nobles¡ªthose who haven¡¯t committed to either the Royalist or Noble factions. They¡¯re our primary targets. Convincing them is crucial because they hold the balance of power as of right now. Next, we have the Lean-Royalists and Lean-Nobles. These are nobles who have shown some inclination towards one side but aren¡¯t fully committed. Nobles and Royalists, self explanatory."

    Ryman took over, pointing at another section from his seat, dark green labels. "Those are the Dukes, the highest-ranked nobles. They have significant influence over the Counts and lower-ranked nobles, maybe even the higher-ranked ones too. If we can sway a few key Dukes, we can bring a lot of their followers with them."

    Eden raised his finger, "Problem being¡­" he trailed off, "these Dukes, most of them, don¡¯t like the imperial government. They are regional powers with strong bases in their respective regions. Their loyalty is often to their own territories first and the empire second."

    Ries furrowed her brow. "So¡­ how do we approach them?"

    Eden raised a finger. "We need to find common ground,¡± he turned to his desk and fetched a document. ¡°Many of them feel threatened by the centralization of power under the Empress. We need to assure them that reinstating the Premiership will protect their regional autonomy and their interests. Have a look."

    Ries took the document and began to read it silently. It was filled with bureaucratic jargon and legal language, outlining the proposed censure and the strategy for garnering votes from the nobles. Each noble had an equal vote, regardless of their rank, which meant that even the lower-ranked nobles'' support would be crucial to our cause.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been saying it¡¯s a terrible idea since yesterday, Eden. It¡¯s too much of a risk,¡± Ryman slowly stood up with a groan and leaned on the board. ¡°You need a super majority. That¡¯s not something we can easily achieve.¡±

    ¡°How much is a super majority?¡± Ries set down the document and threw it to the table.

    ¡°Three hundred and sixty-three votes out of five hundred and fifty.¡± Ryman stated.

    Ries¡¯ eyes widened. "Three hundred and sixty-three votes? That¡¯s... a lot."

    ¡°That¡¯s because it is,¡± Eden said, placing his hands on his hips. "And that¡¯s where you come in, Anise. I¡¯m tied up dealing with imperial administration here in the capital, but I¡¯ve made it clear to the nobles that I am very much against further centralization.¡± He pointed at Ries. ¡°You, Anise, will be my liaison. You¡¯ll reach out to the nobles on my behalf and gauge their support.¡±

    ¡°But I don¡¯t have experience,¡± Ries replied with uncertainty. ¡°And forgive me if I¡¯m wrong, but I just started working here yesterday. I haven¡¯t made any connections to anyone nor am I familiar with my job yet.¡±

    ¡°Then this¡¯ll be a good experience for you. Apply the theories you learned and apply it to real life situations. These nobles are wary, and they¡¯ll be looking for any reason to mistrust us. But you¡¯ve got something we don¡¯t¡ªyou¡¯re new to them, a fresh face. That can work to your advantage.¡± Ryman added.

    ¡°But I¡¯m a Beastmen,¡± Ries countered. ¡°Won¡¯t that¡­ you know¡­ hinder my efforts?¡±

    ¡°A Beastmen wearing the seal of the imperial government,¡± Eden corrected her. ¡°I understand you might have reservations considering the history of our races, but remember that you are first and foremost a citizen of the empire.¡±

    Ries hesitated but finally nodded. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    Eden clasped his hands together, a look of satisfaction on his face. ¡°Good. Now let¡¯s talk about strategy, shall we?¡± he collapsed on the sofa, ¡°we already have around two hundred and twenty votes for the censure, so we¡¯ll need another one hundred and forty-three to reach the supermajority.¡±

    ¡°So I¡¯ll need to talk to a hundred and forty-three nobles? That sounds exhausting¡­¡± Ries could feel a drop in her stomach.

    ¡°Not necessarily, no,¡± Ryman replied, ¡°We just need to approach one faction and that¡¯s it.¡±

    ¡°I sense a big ¡®but¡¯¡­¡± Ries began, her eyes narrowing.

    Ryman nodded. ¡°Ahem, indeed. The faction we¡¯re targeting is influential but fragmented. The rural nobles hold significant sway, but they¡¯re divided in their loyalties and concerns. If we can convince a few key leaders, the rest might follow.¡±

    ¡°Duke Alaric.¡± Eden chimed in, ¡°He¡¯s the de facto leader of the rural nobles on the central provinces. If we could convince him, the rest might follow his lead. I could send you his dossier later.¡±

    Ries nodded. It actually would be favorable for her to go out from the capital, remembering she¡¯d had to go to Anise¡¯s small town and investigate there.

    ¡°Good.¡± Ryman said, looking relieved, ¡°now that that¡¯s solved, how about you feed your slaves, Eden? I¡¯ve been here for four hours listening to your plans.¡±

    <hr>

    Ries stood with arms crossed and her back leaning against the wall, struggling to open her eyes. That ¡®dinner¡¯ Eden proposed had somehow devolved into a drinking game between the two ministers, and she was unfortunately dragged into it. In the end, she was ordered to travel all the way to the central provinces to carry out the task she was given. She came home with a pounding headache and the lingering taste of expensive alcohol she didn¡¯t know existed on her lips.

    5 a.m. That was the time Eden had said to catch the train to the central provinces. She glanced at the giant clock hanging on the station, ¡°thirty minutes to go¡­ where the hell is she?¡±

    Azazel was supposed to accompany her. She had made a formal request to the adventurer¡¯s guild to specifically enlist Azazel, the S-ranked adventurer mercenary, to be a bodyguard for an important government official. That would at least make it less suspicious.

    ¡°Hey. Early riser, are you?¡± Ries¡¯ eyes snapped open, and she turned to see Azazel who¡¯d just appeared beside her.

    ¡°Where have you been?¡± Ries grumbled, ¡°I¡¯d rather be sleeping inside the train than waiting here for you.¡±

    ¡°Apologies, but I have to be prepared to protect the important government official, no?¡± She motioned for the rifle on her back and the sword on her hip. ¡°Plus, this station is gigantic.¡± Azazel replied, glancing at Ries. ¡°And you look immaculate.¡±

    Azazel looked at her from top to bottom. Indeed, she was asked to be presentable when conveying the minister¡¯s message. So, she had decided to walk to the tailor shop and grab her custom-tailored suit¡ªa three-piece ensemble with a red shirt that stood out against her dark hair and black everything.

    Ries sighed, running a hand through her hair. ¡°Just¡­ let¡¯s get on the train. We can¡¯t afford to be late.¡±

    Azazel smirked, ¡°Oho? Lead the way, my lady.¡±

 Part V

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you sent her to the lion¡¯s den.¡± Ryman spoke in between cigarette puffs. Leaning comfortably in the plush sofa with his leg crossed on the other.

    ¡°She¡¯s perfect,¡± Eden replied, staring out the window behind his desk, his fingers drumming on the armrest of his chair. ¡°Perfect scores in the Imperial Examination, active records in multiple organizations, she¡¯s practically my ace.¡±

    Ryman scoffed, taking another drag from his cigarette. ¡°An ace. That¡¯s all you¡¯ve got,¡± he said, rising from the sofa and walking over to join Eden at the window. ¡°Well, let me inform you this. Your so-called ¡®ace¡¯ is a gamble. You only have one of them.¡±

    Eden frowned, slightly raising an eyebrow. ¡°A gamble, huh? I¡¯d call it an investment. Besides, I wouldn¡¯t do anything carelessly, you know that. She¡¯s not the only hand I¡¯ve got.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s young and untested in the real political arena,¡± Ryman retorted, exhaling a cloud of smoke. ¡°You¡¯re sending her into a nest of vipers with nothing but raw talent and a briefcase full of documents. The stakes are too high. Duke Alaric would rip her to shreds.¡±

    Eden chuckled softly. ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you do?¡± Ryman let out an amused laugh. ¡°I¡¯m sure you knew what you were doing when your maneuverings agitated the imperial court? Or when you let that revolt over in the colonies to boil over?¡±

    ¡°Are you implying I¡¯m incompetent at my job?¡± Eden turned to face Ryman, his eyes narrowing.

    ¡°I¡¯m implying you¡¯re reckless,¡± Ryman said, putting out his cigar on the table. ¡°Your methods have a way of courting disaster. The empire doesn¡¯t need another crisis. It needs stability.¡±

    ¡°I am providing stability,¡± Eden stated firmly before continuing. ¡°The Empress and I don¡¯t see eye to eye. Well, she doesn¡¯t see me at all. I¡¯m trying to keep the relationship between the central government and the local provinces intact. She wants to bring them to heel and destroy the integrity of the government.¡±

    ¡°Bringing them to heel might be harsh, but at least it¡¯s a clear strategy. Your approach is chaotic. You¡¯re sending mixed signals and hoping for the best,¡± Ryman retaliated. ¡°And what do you hope to achieve, genuinely? A censure, really? At best that¡¯s just a strongly worded letter.¡±

    ¡°A strongly worded letter from more than half of the nobility. The Empress would be forced to concede and restore the Premiership.¡±

    ¡°Hah!¡± Ryman snorts. ¡°The Empress wouldn¡¯t listen to us, even if we united to oppose her. don¡¯t forget that the highest authority is her.¡±

    ¡°Oh please, I do not aim to replace the Empress,¡± Eden sighed. ¡°I aim to provide a check to her power. The Premiership exists for a reason: to ensure the voices of the provinces are heard, and the nobility satisfied. Without it, the empire is a powder keg ready to explode.¡±

    ¡°And you think a piece of paper will stop that explosion?¡± Ryman retorted. ¡°You¡¯re living in a fantasy if you believe she¡¯ll back down just because some nobles tell her to.¡±

    ¡°Well, what would you do?¡± Eden and Ryman locked eyes, Eden''s eyebrow raised in inquiry while Ryman''s eyes narrowed with intensity.

    ¡°Sit back and don¡¯t do something stupid,¡± Ryman said slowly, emphasizing each word. ¡°Admit it, you just wanted the Premiership to yourself.¡±

    Eden smiled, ¡°What noble wouldn¡¯t? That¡¯s the highest position within the empire we can achieve.¡±

    Ryman said nothing and simply stared at Eden, only the rhythmic ticking of the clock reverberated through the room. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke up, ¡°Don¡¯t implicate me when things don¡¯t go your way. I mean it.¡±

    ¡°You know, why don¡¯t we continue this conversation later.¡± He stood up and cracked his neck, ¡°how about during lunch?¡±

    Ryman¡¯s eyes pierced at him for a moment before looking away. ¡°The Ministry of Justice is busy. I don¡¯t have time for it.¡± He straightened his suit and began to walk to the door.

    ¡°Ryman,¡± Eden called out to the Minister of Justice, who stopped in his tracks and turned to look at him. ¡°The Dwarves have a saying: ¡®E fortresth bilt morrud vishtrust var crumble cendrumm itth oun veight.¡¯¡± He paused, translating, ¡°¡®A fortress built on distrust will crumble under its own weight.¡¯¡±

    ¡°For your sake, make sure your fortress doesn¡¯t collapse while you¡¯re still in it.¡± With that, he left the room, the door closing with a soft click.

    He spots the burn mark of Ryman¡¯s cigar on his table. ¡°I do hope I won¡¯t have to bring you down with me, Ryman.¡±

    <hr>

    The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels on the tracks and the gentle swaying of the carriage gradually lulled Ries into a state of relaxation. Before she knew it, her eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted into a light, uneasy sleep.

    When she woke up, the train was still moving and Azazel was busying herself by reading a book.

    Ries blinked her eyes, trying to regain consciousness before talking. ¡°We¡¯re not there yet?¡±

    Azazel looked up from her book. ¡°Nope. It¡¯s only been three hours.¡±

    ¡°What?! Three hours? How much longer until we get there?¡±

    ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve never went this far out in the empire,¡± Azazel shrugged. ¡°Oh yeah, we stopped at a station about an hour ago.¡±

    Ries sighed, looking out the window at the passing scenery. The vast fields and distant mountains were a stark contrast to the crowded city she was used to. ¡°I guess I didn¡¯t realize just how big it is. I should¡¯ve brought more to do.¡± She then looked back to Azazel, ¡°you said you never went this far out the empire? Why is that?¡±

    Azazel hums and closed her book. ¡°I never needed to,¡± she stated. ¡°I never took quests that needed to travel long distances. The western region is nice, plus t¡¯s closer to home.¡±

    Ries leaned back. ¡°The western kingdoms, you mean?¡±

    Azazel nods. ¡°That¡¯s right. Lovely place, lovely culture. I prefer being in the empire for the time being though.¡±

    ¡°Really? Why is that?¡±

    Azazel smirked slightly. ¡°Opportunities, mostly. The empire¡¯s bustling with activity and there''s always something interesting happening, new things to experience, new people to meet. The adventuring scene here is flourishing with newbies too.¡± She paused, her eyes glinting with amusement. ¡°besides, the western kingdoms, while beautiful, can be a bit... stagnant.¡±

    ¡°Stagnant?¡±

    ¡°Well, I suppose the better word for it would be ¡®stable¡¯.¡± She sighs, ¡°there¡¯s always conflicts, instability, and upheaval. Take for example, the Demon invasion. The Holy City is rallying the west to combat the unified demon tribes. Meanwhile, Alsor has just finished their civil war and Valkoria is too busy fighting the Czar of Great Boria.¡±

    Ries frowned. ¡°Sounds like chaos everywhere.¡±

    ¡°That sounds about right. That¡¯s why lots of adventurers are pouring into the empire for easier quests, most of the high-ranking ones stay in the west, however.¡±

    Ries frowned even deeper, remembering the group of adventurers who chased her down and intending to possibly kill her, ¡°Is that the reason why you live in the empire, then?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no.¡± Azazel shook her head lightly. ¡°I got sick of my dad and ran away.¡±

    ¡°Ran away from home, huh?¡± Ries chuckled. ¡°I feel that. But why?¡±

    ¡°Mhm. My dad was a Priest for the Holy City, and he was a bit of a¡­ over-protective person. After my mom died, he became too protective of me. And well, I ran away.¡± She spread her arms. ¡°But how about you? It¡¯s unusual to see a Beastmen outside their tribe. Alone. Usually if they come to humans civilizations they¡¯re together with their clan.¡±

    Ries leaned in on the table. ¡°To prove something to my dad, I guess¡­¡±

    Azazel cocked her head slightly. ¡°Daddy issues again? Seems like we¡¯re alike.¡±

    ¡°Haha. Well, I didn¡¯t run away because I hated him¡­¡± Ries turned to look at the landscape passing by the window. ¡°It was to prove something¡­¡±

    Azazel nodded, leaning back in her seat. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    Ries took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. ¡°My father is the Chief of our tribe, you remember that?¡± Azazel nodded, and Ries continued. ¡°He wanted a son; instead, he got me. It was alright at first, but it was clear that I¡¯m¡­ not proficient in martial arts, which happens to be our tribe¡¯s entire culture. Power, raw strength, those are the qualities they value most.¡±

    Azazel raised an eyebrow. ¡°So, you felt like you didn¡¯t fit in?¡±

    Ries nodded. ¡°Exactly. I tried to meet his expectations, but I just couldn¡¯t. It¡¯s not who I am. The only combat I¡¯m proficient in are surprise attacks, which is not very honorable to them.¡± She paused. ¡°And then, my dad had son, and I was ignored, left out, people in my tribe looked down on me.

    ¡°So you ran away and became an adventurer to become stronger, huh?¡± Azazel finished.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ries admitted. ¡°I thought if I could prove myself out here, in the wider world, maybe they¡¯d see me differently. Maybe I¡¯d see myself differently. Heck, I didn¡¯t expect impersonating another person and working for the empire. I can¡¯t imagine it.¡±

    ¡°Well now that you said that, how about we look over the documents your minister gave?¡± Azazel said, ¡°We¡¯ll be in this train for quite a while. It¡¯ll kill time at the very least.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Oh, right.¡± Ries remembered she was given a briefcase by Eden before departing. Supposedly it was just documents, but when she carried it, it felt like there were more than just documents. Or maybe because it was just that heavy.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Ries retrieved the briefcase from the overhead compartment and placed it on the small table between them, producing a loud thump.

    ¡°You look over it first. I¡¯ll go to the restaurant carriage to get something to eat.¡± Azazel stood up and opened the door. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Just the same as you, I guess.¡± Ries shrugs.

    ¡°Alright. Just don¡¯t complain if I get you something you don¡¯t like,¡± Azazel said with a wave of her hand as she closed the door behind her, leaving Ries to sort through the contents of the briefcase.

    When Ries opened the briefcase, she found not only folders and papers but also a smaller pin-sized brooch and, most importantly, a handgun. Shocked, she froze for a moment before spotting a letter labeled "READ ME" beneath the handgun. She picked it up, tore it open, and began to read:

    ¡°The ride from Valyria to Alyrus is a long fifteen hours journey by rail. I¡¯ve provided you with books you might be interested in, as well as a smaller, much compact brooch for you to wear during travels. The handgun, I recommend concealing it in your coat or in your waist where it¡¯s easily accessible and take it out if you are threatened. Just in case.

    I gave you the documents about relevant issues and information about the central provinces to help you convince Duke Alaric.

    P.S. You don¡¯t need to wear the brooch at all times. The smaller, lighter one should be more comfortable for you.

    P.P.S I¡¯ve given you 200 Golden Virs as allowance. You¡¯ll find it inside this letter.¡±

    There was indeed 200 GVRS inside the letter as she soon found out. It could last her months if she¡¯s being conservative about spending. But at this point, why should she?

    ¡°Might as well commit to the role of a rich noble.¡± She muttered to herself.

    Putting those thoughts aside, Ries decided to take off her brooch and place it in the briefcase for the time being. It had made her slightly uncomfortable when she tried to sleep earlier; the metal kept pressing against her through the fabric.

    She clipped on the smaller, lighter brooch Eden had provided on her lapel, feeling an immediate sense of relief. It was barely noticeable compared to the original one.

    Returning her attention to the documents, she picked up a fairly thick folder and opened it. She was washed with a feeling of dread once it was revealed to be texts upon texts upon texts of unnecessarily long-winded words and terms she doesn¡¯t understand.

    She could only sigh in hopelessness as she skimmed through the pages to get a sense of the content, her head resting on her hand. The dossier was comprehensive, but the sheer volume of information and the dense bureaucratic language made it hard to digest.

    "The Central Provinces, henceforth delineated as Masuvye, Masuzye, Elowen, Alarayc, and Nymas, represent a conglomeration of administratively significant territories encompassing the predominant expanse of the empire¡¯s eastern cultivable land. The hydrogeological infrastructure provided by the extensive Wath¨¦s River system has historically facilitated the provinces'' ascension as the principal agronomic epicenter, colloquially denoted as the ''<u>breadbasket of the empire</u>.'' This designation underscores the provinces'' indispensable role in perpetuating the agronomic output requisite for the empire''s alimentary sustenance and macroeconomic equilibrium¡ª" bla bla bla bla whatever.

    Her eyes already felt heavy just by reading that and forced her to rub her eyes just to regain parts of her lifeforce. She flipped through a few more pages, only to encounter more convoluted descriptions and overly detailed charts. A headache was beginning to form.

    ¡°Maybe I should join Azazel on the restaurant carriage?¡± She thought to herself as she glances towards the terrain outside. The cityscape gave way to an endless sea of farmland and distant mountains. It¡¯s therapeutic in a sense, at least it didn¡¯t hurt her eyes each time she looked out.

    Sighing, she stood up and intending to go to the restaurant carriage, she fixed her suit, cleaned the table, and walked out of the compartment. She passed through several compartments before arriving at the restaurant carriage near the front of the train.

    Azazel was leaning in on the restaurant¡¯s bar and talking to the bartender. ¡°Oh, so you decided to follow me after all?¡± She said upon noticing Ries approaching her.

    ¡°I had to find some sort of escapism. We can discuss our plans after we eat.¡± She pulled up her wallet and set down 20 Golden Virs. ¡°Bring me your best meal.¡±

    The bartender¡¯s reaction was well-hidden, if there was one at all. ¡°Very well,¡± he responded simply, accepting the payment with a nod.

    ¡°You look like you¡¯ve gone to the seventh circle of hell.¡± Azazel remarked upon seeing her tired eyes.

    ¡°Oh, believe me, I did,¡± Ries replied, rubbing her temples. ¡°I¡¯ll sit down at a table, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll stay here for a bit longer,¡± Azazel said, turning back to the bartender.

    Ries found a cozy corner table by the window and settled in. As she did, she found a folded newspaper likely provided by the train as an amenity. With nothing else to pass the time, she opened it and began reading.

    Immediately, the headline caught her eye. ¡®Destined Heroes defeats great Demon General: can the west turn the tide?¡¯

    Apparently, it was a piece of news from two weeks ago about how the west¡¯s otherworldly summoned Heroes and their companions defeated a strong foe. Wait, two weeks ago? This paper is yesterday¡¯s edition!

    She continued reading: ¡®SORRELIS, 5 Nium 1254¡ªIn a decisive battle at fort Sorrelis 2 weeks ago, the otherworldly Heroes reportedly blessed with the powers of Gaia and her sons have defeated Great Demon General Bael the butcherer. According to the Holy City, this victory marks a significant turning point in repelling the Demon invasion. The Heroes, hailed as the saviors of Humanity, has been canonized as Saints one week ago in the grand cathedral of the Holy City. Much remains to be seen if they can properly defeat the recently united Demon nation. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs has so far refused to comment.¡¯

    Ries lowered the newspaper. She had overheard tales about the demon invasion from western adventurers before, but she hadn¡¯t realized the scale of it. The term "western kingdoms" was used by the empire to refer to six large kingdoms plus the Holy City located west of the empire. If the combined might of six kingdoms had only resulted in a marginal victory, the situation was dire indeed.

    Yet it seemed this piece of news was like a footnote in the empire. Who in their right mind would report a news that is outdated by 2 weeks? Was it indifference? The empire is mostly comprised of humans, no? Shouldn¡¯t they be supporting their fellow humans in a war against the legions of hell?

    ¡°Excuse me, there¡¯s no seats left. Can we sit here?¡± Ries¡¯ thoughts were interrupted as she looked towards a young lady smiling at her.

    ¡°Oh, sure.¡± Ries lowered her newspaper and gestured for her and a young man to seat.

    As the newcomers seated themselves opposite her, she couldn¡¯t help but notice something off¡­ it was their accent. It was faint but distinctly foreign, not from anywhere within the empire. Although she was born and raised in a tribe, Ries was able to learn the empire¡¯s language fairly quickly despite having an accent herself, like many other Beastmen and demihumans in the empire. But theirs was more foreign.

    They wore a robe around their body so she couldn¡¯t exactly tell what they were wearing. But they had similar black hair and face suggesting they probably are siblings.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± the young man respectfully said, ¡°It¡¯s quite crowded today.¡±

    ¡°Indeed it is.¡± Ries replied, folding the newspaper and set it aside. ¡°Are you two travelling together?¡±

    ¡°Ah, we¡¯re with our friends. They¡¯re in our compartment. We¡¯re ordering food for them.¡± The man replied.

    ¡°Is that so? Then you all must not be from around here, are you?¡± As Ries spoke, she couldn¡¯t help but notice the young girl trying to suppress a laugh. It was quickly hidden by the man.

    ¡°Sorry for my friend. She¡¯s a bit¡ª¡±

    ¡°Sorry. Pardon me,¡± the girl managed to suppress her laugh and wiped the tears from her eyes. ¡°I just find your accent amusing.¡±

    ¡°Well I can say the same for yours.¡± She smiled. It¡¯s nice to have a normal conversation for once. ¡°I take it you¡¯re not from here?¡±

    ¡°No. We¡¯re from the west,¡± The man replied. ¡°We¡¯re just traveling.¡±

    ¡°What brings you to the empire?¡± Ries asked, genuinely curious. The westerners she interacted before were adventurers, and by anyone¡¯s guess, they were rough around the edges.

    ¡°We¡¯re here to learn more about the empire,¡± the man explained. ¡°We¡¯ve heard so much about it and wanted to see it for ourselves what it¡¯s like.¡±

    ¡°Oh? What have you learnt then?¡±

    ¡°Well, for one, the language is different. Obviously,¡± the girl snickers. ¡°It¡¯s like forcing ourselves to speak out ¡®Y¡¯ every time we want to say ¡®I¡¯ or ¡®E¡¯.¡±

    That sounded about right. From what Ries had learned, the west¡¯s and the empire¡¯s languages shared the same roots. The difference was that the empire¡¯s language had evolved significantly, becoming distorted over time, while it remained largely unchanged in the west.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name? Mine¡¯s Anise.¡± Ries decided to introduce herself. Using her current identity, of course. The Deputy Minister Anise.

    ¡°I¡¯m Saitou.¡± The man said.

    ¡°And I¡¯m Asumi.¡± The girl followed.

    Those are¡­ weird names for westerners.

    Before Ries could reply, a waiter appeared, carrying a tray laden with food. He set down an assortment of delicacies that even Ries could hardly believe were made on a train.

    ¡°Here is your food, madam,¡± the waiter said, carefully arranging the dishes in front of her. The spread included succulent roasted meats, fresh salads, and exquisite pastries¡ªluxurious meals well worth the 20 GVRS she had paid.

    Saitou and Asumi¡¯s eyes widened at the sight of the food. "That looks amazing," Asumi said, her tone a mix of awe and envy. ¡°Seems like that¡¯s what Golden Virs can get you, huh? If only the empire has a reasonable exchange rate¡­¡±

    ¡°Here¡¯s your order,¡± the waiter continued, handing Saitou a bag filled with their seemingly third-rate takeout. ¡°Enjoy your meal.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Saitou said, accepting the bag. He then looked over back to Ries, ¡°we¡¯ll be going then. Our friends are waiting for us.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind you both joining on my meal.¡±

    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re busy. Now please, if you¡¯ll excuse us.¡± Both of them stood up and left towards the compartments.

    Quite the odd pair for bunch of westerners. If only she could meet their companions. In the meantime, she digs into her meal. Azazel joined her shortly after, bringing alcohol, much to her delight.

    The rest train ride to Alyrus, Alarayc province, is uneventful. She spent her time mulling over documents with Azazel and trying to get a good grasp of the region and the Duke. She just hopes its as straightforward as it seems.

    <hr>

    ¡°Ries. We¡¯re here.¡±

    Azazel¡¯s voice had woken her up from her deep sleep. After a couple of hours of just reading a bunch of lifeless documents, turns out it¡¯ll knock anyone to sleep. Who could¡¯ve guessed.

    Groggily, she gathered her belongings as the train pulled into Alyrus station. It was already night, the train ride lasted forever. Despite it being night, the station seemed to be bustling with activity. Either it was passengers disembarking, or passengers who were just embarking. Who knows what the end destination for the train is. It¡¯s not like she cared.

    The cool night air swept her body as they disembarked. Wearing a thick three-piece clothing was the right choice after all.

    ¡°What happens now? Should we go to the Duke¡¯s place?¡± Ries asked Azazel, stifling a yawn as they made their way out of the station.

    Azazel looked to her pocket watch before answering, ¡°yes, we should notify of the Duke of our arrival at the very least.¡±

    Great. The day isn¡¯t over yet. ¡°Tell you what, how about you find someplace for us to rest. I¡¯ll talk to the duke.¡±

    Azazel nodded, perhaps happily so. ¡°That so? Alright, I¡¯ll secure accommodations and make sure everything is in order for our stay.¡±

    She left and disappeared into the crowd of people. Ries hailed a nearby taxi, and soon she was on her way to the Duke¡¯s estate. The cityscape of Alyrus passed by in a blur of lights and shadows. One thing she noticed was the lack of tall buildings. The city copies the architectural style of the capital, yes. But it feels lacking compared to it.

    When she arrived at the Duke¡¯s grand estate, she was greeted by a butler who quickly ushered her inside. She was asked to wait in an extravagant waiting room, adorned with intricate symbolisms and designs made from valuable gems and gold.

    This was a moment of rest, one she intended to savor with each passing second. The plush chairs, the dim lighting, and the quiet atmosphere offered a brief respite from the long journey and the endless stream of duties that awaited her.

    The large doors had other plans as they swung open with a loud creak, disrupting the calm. What Ries expected to be Duke was instead out came a person with his hands clasped in his back, wearing a similar suit like hers. More importantly, a pin of the imperial government on his lapel.

    ¡°Ah, deputy minister Anise. I¡¯ve heard so much about you.¡± He noticed her with a side glance, his tone seemed condescending in a way.

    Whatever, she had no time to humor this man. Ries forced herself to stand up and projected a polite smile, ¡°Greetings. Who might you be?¡±

    The man seemed taken aback, his eyebrows raising in surprise. ¡°Really? Eden must¡¯ve taught you in his school of ignorance. I¡¯m Fede Unteryl, Governor of the Alarayc province.¡±

    Ries maintained her composure, despite the urge to roll her eyes. ¡°A pleasure to meet you, Governor Unteryl,¡± she replied in a neutral tone. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware you would be here.¡± Of course she had no idea who he was, but none of it matters.

    ¡°Nor was I aware that Deputy Ministers were prone to such tardiness,¡± the Governor said, his voice laced with sarcasm. ¡°I would¡¯ve invited you for a discussion together, but for one, you are in no condition to do so. Two, I would prefer we talk tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s the Duke?¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t want to be disturbed right now.¡± He dismissed.

    Ries sighed internally but maintained her polite fa?ade. ¡°Very well, Governor. I look forward to our discussion tomorrow. If you could have the necessary documents prepared, that would be helpful.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Fede said, standing to signal the end of their conversation. ¡°I¡¯ll ensure everything is ready. In the meantime, rest well, Deputy Minister. We have a lot to discuss tomorrow.¡±

 part VI: Crisis Brewing

    Palushians are considered to be fiercely independent warrior tribes by the empire. They are a race of bunny people who possess incredible martial strength and agility, and they live in what the empire now calls ¡®Palushtag¡¯, meaning ¡®Palushian lands¡¯. The place has nothing of note besides vast swathes of dry plains, thus the empire has no interest in interfering in the affairs of the warrior clans, only having established two cities in the entire province.

    Hali, a young warrior in training, aimed his great bow at an ox grazing on the dry grassland. He was hidden in the rocky terrain, his fur blending seamlessly with the shadows cast by the setting sun. His large ears twitched, picking up the faintest sounds as he focused on his target. The ox, oblivious to the danger, continued to graze peacefully.

    Hali¡¯s muscles tensed as he prepared to release the arrow. His training had been rigorous, and he prided himself on his accuracy. Just as he was about to let the arrow fly, a sudden movement caught his eye. He shifted his aim slightly and saw a small, strange bird fluttering nearby. Distracted, he missed his perfect shot. The arrow flew wide, startling the ox, which bolted away with surprising speed.

    ¡°Damn it,¡± Hali muttered under his breath, lowering his bow. He scanned the area, hoping to find another target, but the plains were empty. Frustrated, he climbed down from his vantage point and made his way back to his village. Today¡¯s hunt is another failure. He would definitely be made fun of again by his friends.

    As he was about to turn his back, he heard a hiss from behind him. His arrow seemed to have hit something. Curiosity piqued, he turned and carefully made his way toward the sound. Pushing aside some dry brush, he saw the arrow lodged in the ground, dark liquid bubbling up around it.

    "What is this?" Hali wondered aloud. He knelt down, examining the strange substance. It was thick, black, and had a strong, pungent odor. He dipped his fingers into the liquid and sniffed it, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

    ¡°Eww.¡± He pulled out the arrow, only for the stream of black liquid to continue streaming until it began to pool on the ground. Hali watched in fascination and bewilderment as the dark substance kept flowing.

    Disgusted yet curious, he felt the need to tell the elders about this. He quickly looked around for something to contain the liquid. Finding nothing suitable, he took off his small leather water pouch, emptied it, and used it to collect some of the substance. The liquid was warm and heavy, unlike anything he had encountered before.

    As he secured the pouch, he thought, perhaps the warrior-Queen knows of this liquid? For now, he would return.

    Just then, he noticed a solitary ox grazing in the periphery of his vision. The hunter in him hesitated¡ªreturning empty-handed was never ideal. But the day was still young, he figured it wouldn¡¯t hurt to stay.

    <hr>

    There was a stark contrast between Valrya, the Imperial capital, and Alyrus, the capital of the Alaryc province, that Ries only fully realized when she woke up the next morning. Unlike the heavily industrialized Valrya, where the air was thick with gray smog, Alyrus felt almost pastoral in its simplicity. The modest level of urbanization meant fewer factories, fewer machines, and consequently, much cleaner air. Cobble roads, no automobiles, and no sign of modernization besides electricity.

    Of course, she knows that this city and this province is the capital of the empire¡¯s agricultural export. She read from the document about how nearly 70% of the empire¡¯s food supply is produced here. Things like wheat, barley, fruits, vegetables, and all sorts of foodstuffs are produced here.

    The city is also very human dominated. In her time walking around the city, she had not seen a single demihuman. It was possible that they were disguised, or perhaps this place simply did not attract demihuman visitors.

    Earlier that day, Governor Fede Unteryl¡¯s messenger had arrived to inform her of an appointment at the Alyrus Royal Golf Club. The name suggested an air of exclusivity and wealth, a place where the province¡¯s elite gathered. She could only guess it was where the province¡¯s elites often gathered.

    When she arrived at the golf club, she was ushered in and led through lavishly decorated halls, out onto the wide green fields that seemed to exist solely for the recreation of the privileged few. For a province dedicated mostly to farming, this place seemed a bit excessive.

    She was guided for some time onto the green fields where she eventually met the governor who was just finishing a swing, sending a golf ball soaring through the air. The governor raised his hand over his eyes to see where the ball went before turning to her.

    ¡°Deputy minister. Come. join me.¡± He grabs another golf club from his bag and offers it to her.

    ¡°Governor, I appreciate the invitation, but I¡¯ve never played golf in my life.¡±

    ¡°No matter, just take it. We don¡¯t have to be formal all the time,¡± He dismisses her and hands her a glove. ¡°Might as well pick up a new hobby for your status.¡±

    Ries accepted the club and glove, slipping the glove onto her hand. She felt out of place but decided to go along with the governor''s casual demeanor. "Alright, Governor. I''ll give it a try."

    He guided her to the tee and showed her how to stand and hold the club. "Now then, go on." He rested his arms on his golf club.

    Ries took a deep breath, positioned herself, and swung the club. The ball barely lifted off the ground, instead of a straight shot, it shot off the side and rolling a short distance away. The dirt below was also damaged and unearth.

    "Looks like a hole-in-one. I can¡¯t see where it went," the governor smirks. ¡°I have to admit, it is my first time seeing a demihuman, a beastmen, willingly work for the empire.¡±

    ¡°Well, ¡®willingly¡¯ isn¡¯t the right way to put it¡­¡± Ries winced, ¡°Well that¡¯s good, isn¡¯t it? It means we¡¯re making progress towards cooperation?¡±

    ¡°Progress, indeed. I¡¯ve seen a lot of demihumans in my time; many rarely come out of their tribes. But you¡¯re different, I suppose,¡± he said, grabbing another ball and placing it on the tee. ¡°Then again, I¡¯m skeptical of them in the first place.¡±

    Ries watched as the governor lined up another shot and effortlessly sent another ball flying into the air.

    ¡°Governor, about last night,¡± She began. ¡°I was expecting the Duke, and I¡¯m sure he is also expecting me. Why deny me meeting with him, then?¡±

    The governor spares her a sideways glance before returning to line up a shot, ¡°If my sources do not fail me, you are sent by Eden, that minister, to secure support for his motion, am I not correct?¡±

    Ries stiffened slightly, taken aback by the governor''s bluntness. ¡°Yes, that is correct.¡±

    The governor swung the club, sending the ball sailing through the air. He straightened up, turning to face her and rested his hands on the club. ¡°Well then let me be direct to you, I¡¯ve done your work.¡±

    ¡°Done my work?¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve told the Duke about your minister¡¯s plan, he said he agreed to it. Along with any noble aligned with him in the central provinces, or so he said¡±

    ¡°Wait, how did you know about the¡ª¡±

    ¡°The motion about condemning the empress and to reinstate the premiership? It¡¯s impossible to keep it tight lipped since he spread it around the nobility,¡± the governor waves dismissively. ¡°If I know, the empress knows. And if the empress knows, well I don¡¯t know how she¡¯ll retaliate.¡±

    ¡°You think she¡¯ll retaliate?¡±

    ¡°Oh yes. It¡¯s her powers and authority being fringed upon,¡± he nodded. ¡°Legally, it¡¯s not a breach of law, which itself states that the monarch is the law incarnate. You, of all people, should know.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t that complicate things?¡± Ries thought aloud. She always assumed that Eden would keep it a secret while he gathered allies, but it seems like he¡¯s very confident about it being in the open. A threat to the throne, perhaps? If the nobility did truly unite to hypothetically overthrew the Empress...

    ¡°I see you¡¯re starting to see the bigger picture,¡± the governor seems amused by her, he stores way his club and crosses his arms. ¡°That¡¯s good, you¡¯d better start thinking like that more often. But yes, the empress is ruthless, I don¡¯t need to give an example except for where her brothers have gone.¡±

    ¡°But what does the minister hope to achieve by making it public? Surely it¡¯d be better to move in secret while he gather allies?¡±

    ¡°Provocation or pressure, who¡¯s to say?¡± He shrugs. ¡°Eden¡¯s playing a dangerous game, and I¡¯ve known him long enough to say he¡¯s crazy enough to do what he intends to do. Perhaps he believes that a show of strength and unity among the nobility will force the Empress to negotiate or, at the very least, reconsider her stance.¡±

    ¡°If she won¡¯t budge?¡± She questioned.

    He smirked. ¡°Therein lies the beauty of politics, my dear Katzen. It¡¯s a game of chess, with every piece moving towards the endgame. Eden¡¯s gambit is that the threat alone will force the Empress to concede some power without actual bloodshed.¡±

    Ries shuffled uncomfortably, definitely didn¡¯t like the sound of that. ¡°And where do you fit in all this? Wait, how do you know I¡¯m a Katzen?¡±

    The governor spares her a glance. ¡°Katzens have predominantly black hair than their other fellow feline beastmen, no?¡± He paused, ¡°if Eden¡¯s plan succeeds, the balance of power shifts, and I intend to be in the winning side.¡±

    ¡°And if it fails?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve learned over the years to adapt. I¡¯ve positioned myself well enough I can adapt to whichever the wind blows.¡±

    ¡°I see. I suppose you have a good reason to ally with the minister?¡±

    ¡°Ally? A strange word indeed,¡± he rubs his chin. ¡°He and I were rivals for most of our lives. In fact, he stole the position of Minister of Home Affairs from me. my only advice to you is this. Don¡¯t be fooled by ¡®Eden¡¯.¡±

    Ries frowned. ¡°You mean to say I shouldn¡¯t trust him?¡±

    ¡°Ah, trust is a rare commodity in our world, even more so in politics. Never give your trust to someone and never trust anyone. Right now, Eden is playing his own game, better to not poke the dragon, as we say around these parts,¡± He chuckled. ¡°But, going back to your question, I am doing this merely because it¡¯s a better choice for my survival.¡±

    Ries felt tired already, even though it was still morning. She was more used to direct forms of power plays, where physical prowess determined the outcome, and where the strongest warriors leads and commands.

    The way these humans do it is more complicated than she imagined. Exhausting to keep track of.

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying survival is your only motive?¡± If she wants to survive and not get found out, she has to learn and as the governor said, adapt.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± The governor replied, ¡°in politics, survival often means power. The longer you survive, the more power you gain, and thus power is the ultimate goal of politics.¡± He holds up three fingers. ¡°There are three rules to power. This is my last advice to you.¡±

    ¡°First,¡± he began, lowering one finger. ¡°Lie. Never tell the truth if possible, and dodge if questioned.¡±

    He lowered a second finger. ¡°Second, alliances are temporary. Everyone has their own agenda, never rely solely on others or else you¡¯ll become a foot soldier in someone¡¯s game.¡±

    Finally, he lowered the third finger. ¡°Third, control the narrative. Information is power. The one who controls what others know, or think they know, holds the upper hand.¡±

    Ries nodded along as the governor explained away. He seems genuine in giving advice, ¡°If that¡¯s the case, why tell me these things? Assuming from what you¡¯ve said, you¡¯re not giving this advice out of the goodness of your heart.¡±

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡°Well, let¡¯s just say I don¡¯t want you to succumb, yet. The game has only begun, and we¡¯ll meet more often than you might¡¯ve think.¡± He grabs a new club from the bag and practices swinging it around, ¡°the assembly hasn¡¯t gathered in so long, after all. Now, shall we continue this game? I believe it¡¯s your turn to swing.¡±

    <hr>

    The Katzen tribe is a tribe of feline beastmen who prides in their pure physical martial prowess. Each newborn is expected to learn how to fight bare-handed by the age of 5. Their raw magical power makes them strong enough to tear thick trees in half, people in half, and put a dent in the earth. Even the empire knows to be cautious with them.

    Yet, despite this, one of them is currently poring over pages of documents that turned out useless in the end. The information written in them are dense, but very detailed. After playing golf with the governor for some hours, she decided to go to the local adventurer¡¯s guild tavern to gather her thoughts. It¡¯s nice to be in a familiar environment.

    Previously, she was avoided because she was a beastmen. Now she was avoided because people are afraid of the suited maniac with the paper covering the table. Not like she had any problems with it, she was always content to being alone.

    Possibly feeling motivated by the governor, Ries engrossed herself willingly in the documents Eden provided. Though it may not have any use anymore, it is still a perfect method to learn more about the inner workings of the empire.

    She also bought a book from the local library about the history of the empire. It¡¯s much easier to read unlike the documents.

    In short, the empire is a colossal hive mind of a bureaucracy. Layers upon layers of local departments all the way to the national ones employing hundreds of thousands of officials making sure everything ran smoothly, it was staggering. The Home Affairs ministry for example was responsible for more than twenty departments alone!

    Ries rubbed her eyes, noticing that she had left her drink untouched since it was served. The tavern buzzed with activity. Adventurers exchanged tales of their exploits, bards played cheerful tunes, and the occasional clink of coins could be heard over the chatter. Laughter and merriment filled the air, but Ries felt no inclination to join in. It was still the afternoon, and her mind was occupied with far more pressing matters.

    Technically, her job was over. She could return to the capital and be done with it. However, she used this time to think about how she¡¯s going about changing her identity officially. In of itself is a difficult task to do in the first place. Even more so difficult because the empire keeps everything recorded, stored, and processed.

    She needed to find out what happened to Anise. Unlikely for now in the situation she finds herself in.

    As she mulled it over, a voice interrupted her thoughts. ¡°Madam deputy minister?¡±

    Ries looked up to see a lanky, tired-looking boy with a large bag at his side. He wore the uniform of the Imperial Postal Authority and was holding out a letter.

    ¡°Delivery for you,¡± he said, handing her the envelope.

    Ries took the letter and nodded her thanks. The boy gave a quick salute before hurrying off to his next delivery. She examined the envelope, noting the official seal of the Home Affairs. Breaking it open, she read the contents quickly. Narrowed her eyes. And groaned helplessly. It was another order.

    She dislikes being the receiving end of such orders, especially from not of her own kind. But what can she do?

    Minister Eden wants her to go to a town called Ny Dessechey, New Desseche in western spelling, in the province of Palushtag. It¡¯s shorter than from Valyra to Alyrus, just a mere 13 hours by train. What¡¯s more, it was a newly established town, which is why it wasn¡¯t on the map despite her frustration. So then, she has to go to the city of Nurenses and ask someone to show her the way to the new town.

    How grand.

    On the last part of the letter, she was instructed to meet with the local division of the Native Affairs Commission. She heard of that name dozens of times before when she was still in her tribe. They are mostly known for the people who manages relations with the demihuman kingdoms within the empire. Her tribe had numerous encounters with them, most of which are fraught with tensions.

    Sighing, she pulled out the blue orb and contacted Azazel.

    ¡­

    ¡­

    ¡­

    Tried to.

    She has been missing since morning without telling her. Once again, she was on her own. She folded the letter and tucked it into her coat pocket, downing her drink in one gulp. Slamming it on the table, left a generous tip, and with a heavy sigh, she stood up, gathered her papers, and left.

    <hr>

    There was a particular mood permeating the imperial capital that evening. The local tavern was so crowded with men and women that it could no longer accommodate anyone else inside, spilling the revelers out into the streets. But no one seemed to mind. They were all there for a reason.

    Inside, a man stood on a stage usually reserved for bards to play their witty music. He was young enough to inspire hope and old enough to command respect. His eyes gleamed with pride and satisfaction as he surveyed his audience¡ªhumans, elves, beastmen, dwarves, aquis, and a plethora of other races living within the empire. All looked at him expectantly. He knew what they wanted to hear, he had been doing this for more than twenty years, and he had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

    ¡°Brothers! Sisters!¡± he called out, his voice cutting through the noise. ¡°You know why you¡¯ve gathered here, and I know what you want. Repeat after me: We. Want. Change!¡±

    The crowd roared back, their voices echoing in unison. ¡°We. Want. Change!¡±

    He raised his hands to quiet them. ¡°Yes, we want change! The empire has grown stagnant, weighed down by corruption and complacency of the selected few! We are the ones who suffer while those in power grow fat on our labor!¡±

    There was a murmur of agreement, a swell of emotion rising from the gathered throng. He could make out a single yell of agreement from the back.

    ¡°For too long, we have been ignored. The people have been ignored! our voices silenced by those who fear our power, by those who cling to their ancient crumbling traditions.¡± He paused, looking over the faces of his crowd. ¡°Tell me. Are we represented?¡±

    A resounding ¡°No!¡± erupted from the crowd.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re wrong! We¡¯re all represented!¡± He paused for effect. ¡°By self-serving, power-hungry aristocrats!¡±

    A wave of scornful laughter rippled through the crowd.

    He continued, his voice rising. ¡°These aristocrats claim to speak for us, but do they truly know our struggles? Do they understand our dreams? No! They live in their ivory towers of marble made of conquests of yore. Growing fat off our labor while we toil and suffer. They take our hard-earned gold to line their pockets and build their monuments, leaving us with nothing but crumbs.¡±

    The crowd¡¯s laughter turned into a chorus of boos and jeers directed at the unseen aristocracy.

    ¡°They sit on their crumbling ancient institutions as they do NOTHING for the common peoples! What did they do when the plague struck the poorest of the poor? What did they do when young men and women were enslaved for cruel menial labor? What did they do for the laborers who toil away as if they¡¯re grease for the rusted gears we call this empire?¡±

    He waited as the crowd quieted down.

    ¡°They say they know what''s best for us, but all they know is how to maintain their power and privilege. They tell us to be patient, to wait for change, but we¡¯ve waited long enough! The time for patience is over! The time for action is now!¡±

    A roar of approval surged through the tavern as the crowd shouted in unison.

    ¡°We will no longer be silenced! We will no longer be ignored! We will rise up and take what is rightfully ours! Together, we will bring about the change we seek, the change we deserve! By any means necessary!¡±

    The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices echoing through the streets. The man on the stage raised his fist in solidarity, feeling the energy of the people flow through him.

    Just then, a young man yelled worryingly, his voice cutting through the cheers as everyone stopped to listen to his words.

    ¡°The Imperials are coming!¡± he yelled.

    That was more than enough to make the crowd disperse, but due to the sheer number of people, the streets quickly became chaotic. People pushed and shoved, trying to escape the impending threat.

    The man silently cursed underneath his breath, but he had expected this coming. He quietly escaped through a back door of the tavern before the police arrived, his job was done, and it was time to go to another place.

    <hr>

    ¡°Madam deputy minister, it¡¯s a relief to see you.¡±

    Ries could only muster a tired smile as she shook hands with the TAC official. The train ride to Nurenses had been exhausting, despite spending most of her time reading a novel she¡¯d picked up at the Alyrus station.

    ¡°I hope your journey was tolerable,¡± the official continued. ¡°We have a car ready to take you to Ny Dessechey.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Ries replied, appreciating his efficiency.

    The official nodded, leading her to a waiting automobile. As they drove through the bustling streets of Nurenses, Ries took the opportunity to observe the city. It wasn¡¯t as well-developed as the capital, nor as idyllic as Alyrus. No, this was a different beast entirely.

    The air was thick with smog, the streets teeming with people, most of them laborers coming to and from work. It was an industrial city, as the imperials called it¡ªa small one, but with a gritty determination that spoke volumes about its inhabitants. Factories lined the streets, their chimneys belching smoke into the sky, while the clatter of machinery provided a constant backdrop to the bustling activity. Ries watched as children darted between the crowds, their faces smeared with soot, and vendors peddled their wares from rickety stalls.

    There was a certain charm in its raw unpolished state. She was pretty sure this kind of scenery can be seen in certain parts of the capital, large as it is.

    The automobile wound its way through the narrow streets, eventually leaving the industrial sprawl behind and entering the countryside. The transition was jarring, the smoky haze giving way to open grass fields and distant hills almost in an instant.

    She didn¡¯t speak much with the driver on the way to Ny Dessechey. Either she was tired or the driver was being professional, it didn¡¯t matter. All she got from the trip was a blissful sleep.

    She was woken abruptly when the automobile hit a pothole, jolting her awake. She blinked rapidly, taking in her surroundings as the car continued to bounce along the uneven road.

    ¡°Apologies, madam deputy minister,¡± the driver said, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. ¡°The roads here can be quite rough.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Ries replied, straightening in her seat and brushing away the remnants of sleep. Slightly annoyed she was abruptly woken up. ¡°How much further?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re already in Ny Dessechey, ma¡¯am. We¡¯ll be arriving at the TAC building shortly.¡±

    ¡°That so?¡± Ries leaned on her seat and looked outside.

    The so-called town seemed bustling and far from small. Wooden buildings sprawled along the streets, with more under construction. What most caught her attention were the barrels of oil¡ªpetroleum, the thing that made automobiles like the one she was in run. She observed workers carefully handling the barrels, a few of them operating makeshift refineries, which were strewn about the town.

    As they pulled up to a modest yet sturdy building marked with the TAC insignia, the driver stepped out to open her door. Ries exited, straightening her clothes and taking a deep breath of the crisp, rural air tinged with the faint scent of oil.

    A certain gruff, portly old man stood nearby, his appearance almost a caricature of the empire¡¯s bureaucratic system¡ªpolished yet weathered, formal yet disheveled. It was evident from his bearing that he had years of experience under his belt.

    Is this what she¡¯ll become?

    The man looks at her up and down as he pinches his thick mustache, ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware your kind was accepted.¡± His gaze stops at her feline ears.

    ¡°Oh boy.¡± Ries grimaced internally.

    Despite her weariness and the annoyance bubbling beneath the surface, she maintained her composure. ¡°I assure you, my presence here is sanctioned by Minister Eden himself,¡± she replied.

    The man frowns, ¡°Of course he sent you here. That man is known for his soft spot for the uncivilized.¡± He turns around and motions for her to follow, ¡°be careful for the construction workers. We just built this building 2 days ago.¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she followed him inside. The building still smelled of fresh paint and sawdust. Workers were bustling about, putting finishing touches on walls and ceilings. She stepped carefully around ladders and stacks of lumber.

    The man led her to a makeshift meeting room where a large map of the Palushtag province laid.

    ¡°Has the minister informed you of why you were sent here?¡± he asked, stopping near the table.

    ¡°No, he hasn¡¯t,¡± she admitted.

    The man let out a deep sigh and shook his head before lighting a cigar he pulled from his coat. He held one out to her. ¡°Interested?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t smoke,¡± Ries declined politely with a wave of her hand.

    ¡°A shame,¡± he said, putting it back in his coat. ¡°Call me Karoly. I¡¯m in charge of the TAC¡¯s Palushtag branch.¡±

    ¡°Anise. Deputy Minister of Home Affairs.¡± She emphasized her position, but Karoly only rolled his eyes.

    ¡°Deputy minister or not, you have one job here. See, we¡¯re in a bit of a¡­ situation.¡± His tone was neutral, leaving her uncertain whether he was worried or merely resigned to the task at hand.

    ¡°Situation?¡±

    ¡°Look at this map. What do you see?¡± He motioned for her to look closer.

    She walked beside him and took a careful look at the map. It was the Palushtag province in a more detailed image.

    Ries walked beside him and took a careful look at the map. It was a detailed image of the Paluushtag province. Obviously, the two prominent cities, Nurenses and Rymus, were labeled in bold lettering. Smaller towns and villages dotted the landscape.

    What caught her attention was the name ''Ny Dessechey'' scribbled in ink, as well as a large circle up north marked in red ink with the words ''PALUUSH TRIBES'' written clumsily.

    ¡°What about it?¡± She inquired to Karoly.

    He took a deep drag of his cigar before answering, ¡°Some weeks ago, prospectors discovered an oil deposit in the northern part of the province, right within the territory of the Palush Tribes.¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oil? That explains the barrels I saw earlier. But what¡¯s the problem?¡±

    ¡°The tribes don¡¯t really like outsiders entering their land. The prospectors didn¡¯t exactly ask for permission when they settled.¡± He paused and looked at her dead in the eye, ¡°it just so happens to be that this town is the camp the early prospectors set up. Since then, it attracted migrants hoping to strike it rich with black gold.¡±

    ¡°Uh oh.¡± Something made her feel uneasy. It wasn¡¯t hard to figure out why.

    Karoly exhaled a cloud of smoke. ¡°Prospectors and the tribesmen have repeated contacts and each time it ended in clashes from both sides. Armed clashes.¡±

    ¡°Is this why the TAC was brought in? To soothe tensions?¡±

    Karoly shook his head. ¡°In a perfect world, maybe. Fortunately, we aren¡¯t na?ve idealists. The prospectors want protection, the tribes want them gone, and we, the empire, want the oil. I¡¯m sure you know what we¡¯ll have to do.¡±

    Ries grimaced. ¡°We¡¯re kicking them out of their own land?¡±

    ¡°No. No we won¡¯t do that. We¡¯ll work out an arrangement that can satisfy both sides. Ideally, at least. You¡¯ll be our representative to them.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± She doesn¡¯t even qualify for her position, and she as hell doesn¡¯t qualify to be a diplomat. ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t have someone else in mind? Someone more experienced?¡±

    ¡°I wish. I don¡¯t want to work with a beastmen either. But you¡¯re a beastmen, that should make them feel easy talking with no human.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Sir! A group of Palushians are approaching the town!¡± the door was slammed open by a worried staffer.

    Karoly extinguished his cigar and gives Ries a brief glance, motioning with his head to follow him.

    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± Ries walked beside him as they reached for the exit, ¡°why not find someone more competent? Why me?¡±

    ¡°Because that son-of-a-bitch Minister of yours specifically wants you to¡ª¡±

    BANG BANG BANG

    Their conversation was interrupted by shots fired from the distance. Karoly immediately faced the direction where the gunshots were fired, and Ries covered her ears from the loud sounds. It didn¡¯t take long for screams to follow as chaos ensued in the town as the town¡¯s small unit of police struggled to keep the order.

    She could only imagine what caused the gunshots.

 Part VII: Woe to the fallen

    ¡°Huh?! Where am I?¡±

    ¡°O¡¯ Brave heroes! Thank you tremendously for heeding our call in our direst times!¡± A regal man sitting upon a throne bellowed at him.

    Heroes? What? Did I¡­ did I get isekaied!?

    ¡°Saitou?¡±

    ¡°A- Asumi?¡±

    As if it was the perfect anime, he was teleported with his crush into this fantasy world. The man in front of them seems to be¡­ a King! A real life King! And the Queen beside him, and the multiple knights and priests?

    ¡°O¡¯ otherworldly heroes, we are in dangerous times. The demons have awakened and ready to destroy all of humanity. We beg you to save the human race!¡± The King said once more.

    ¡°Please, we need to check your class. If you may.¡± A person who seems to be a priest of some sorts stepped up and pointed at an orb in the center of the throne room. ¡°Please place your hands here.¡±

    Saitou¡¯s body moved on its own, but were stopped by a tug by Asumi. Seemingly telling her to not go any further.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± He simply said.

    He moved to place his hands on the orb. Once he did so, the orb glowed brightly, blinding the entire room in white. The King and the Priest fell to their knees. ¡°A- Ah¡­ heroes! You¡¯ve truly come!¡±

    Soon enough, Saitou saw a screen which he assumed only he could see. It was his stat screen.

    Name: Saitou Namakama

    Level: 1

    Skills: [Concealment], [3x EXP], [HERO¡¯s blessing], [Skill Acquisition]

    Titles: [Chosen Hero]

    Saitou stared at the screen, trying to process what he was seeing. The glowing orb faded, and the room slowly came back into focus.

    The king rose to his feet, his expression a mix of hope and desperation. "We¡¯ll survive the demon invasion! Gaia saved us!¡±

    Asumi stepped up beside Saitou, her eyes wide with wonder. "Saitou, this is incredible! We¡¯re actually heroes in another world!"

    Saitou nodded, still trying to wrap his mind around it all. "Yeah, it''s like something out of a dream. But... what about you? Shouldn''t you check your class too?"

    Asumi hesitated but then nodded. She stepped forward and placed her hands on the orb. It glowed again, though not as brightly as before. A similar screen appeared before her.

    Name: Asumi Yamada

    Level: 1

    Skills: [Healing Touch], [3x EXP], [HERO¡¯s blessing], [Light Magic]

    Titles: [Saintess]

    The king''s eyes widened even further. "A saintess and a chosen hero... we are truly blessed by the heavens!"

    Asumi turned to Saitou, her face lit up with excitement and child-like wonder. "We can do this, Saitou! Together, we can save this world!"

    Saitou smiled, he dreamt of this a lot, and it was¡­ exhilarating to finally become a hero in another world. "Yeah, we can. We''ll train, get stronger, and face whatever challenges come our way."

    The king stepped forward, his voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you, brave heroes. We will provide you with everything you need to prepare for the battles ahead. Humanity¡¯s survival rests in your hands!"

    .

    .

    .

    ¡°See?! See what they did to me?! Those savage, ungrateful *@^$#&!¡± Kali, a Palushian warrior, spat out a string of curses in her native tongue, her voice laced with pain and anger. Saitou ignored her outburst, his focus solely on keeping her safe. Behind them, the distant relentless shouts of Imperial soldiers echoed through the air as they fired their rifles.

    ¡°Please, Kali, try not to move too much! We¡¯re taking you back,¡± Saitou grunted, struggling under her weight. His skill, [Concealment], had allowed him to swiftly pull her out of the line of fire when the shooting started, but not before she¡¯d taken a bullet to the thigh.

    Not too long ago he was a normal high school student dozing off in class. one thing led to another, him and his two friends were transported to another world and hailed as heroes by the Holy Church to defeat the Demons. Thanks to the overpowered skills they got through [system], they were able to defeat multiple beasts, ended wars, and brought peace to the kingdoms. Even canonized as Saints.

    ¡°Come on, we¡¯re almost there.¡±

    They were headed to a Palushian settlement, Kali¡¯s tribe, to discuss the strategy moving forward after the failed negotiations. Whether he liked it or not, a battle is unavoidable, which is unfortunate.

    He came to find out that the empire, despite their more advanced technology than the west, but severely lacking in Arcane capabilities, are nothing more than isolationist imperialists. In a way, that is good for them, as they do nothing and keep to themselves. On the other hand, the Demons hadn¡¯t stopped attacking even after he slayed one of their great generals.

    He hoped he could enlist the help of the empire, but his efforts to communicate with the Empress were met with silence.

    Reaching the settlement, he felt unease. The village was nestled in a clearing surrounded by dense forest. Unlike most assumed, it was large enough to be categorized as a medium-sized town.

    Tribesmen and women emerged from their homes, their expressions shifting from shock to anger as they saw their heir, Kali, wounded and leaning heavily on Saitou. Murmurs spread through the crowd like wildfire, and he could see the spark of distrust and fear in their eyes.

    A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forward with a visible worried look even if he doesn¡¯t show it, his rabbit ears straightened up in alarm. He was adorned tribal tattoos and light leather armor covering his vital parts. ¡°Kali¡­¡± he bit her lip. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Father, the imperials attacked without warning. They are... Dishonorable!¡± She growled. Her wounds didn¡¯t affect her much it seems. That or it could be the adrenaline.

    At the mention of the ¡®imperials¡¯, Kali¡¯s father gaze hardened, he turned and shouted, ¡°send a message to the rest of the Palushian tribes! The imperials are coming!¡± He promptly left Saitou and Kali.

    Saitou wondered if the imperials are already gearing up for war. They must¡¯ve been planning this for a while.

    <hr>

    ¡°WHICH ONE OF YOU IDIOTS SHOT AT THE PALUSHIANS?!?!¡± Karoly screamed at the top of his lungs, so much so that Ries had to cover her sensitive feline ears once again. After the shots were fired, Karoly immediately bee-lined toward the source, only to find two dead Paluushians lying on the ground.

    A similarly angry-looking man stepped forward, rifle slung over his shoulders. ¡°Those savages were going to kill us! If the TAC were not so soft, we could¡¯ve avoided this!¡±

    Karoly pointed at the bodies, his face red with fury. ¡°Look at them, you idiot! Why would they send, what was it? Three? Four people with NO weapons?!¡±

    ¡°You can never be so sure,¡± the man shot back. ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing. I established this town. I am NOT going to give them an inch.¡±

    ¡°Look where that got us! They¡¯re not going to listen to negotiations now!¡± Karoly shouted.

    Having heard enough, Ries stepped between the two men, who were inching closer to a fistfight. ¡°Enough! I am the Deputy Minister here, and by law, I outrank all of you.¡± She looks at them both.

    The man sneers, ¡°I will not take orders from an imperial bureaucrat who looks out to no one but themselves!¡± His distaste for authority was clear. Not even the imperials like their own government, huh?

    ¡°Look, you just shot two Palushians possibly coming to negotiate. Whether you like it or not, we¡¯re going to find ourselves in a fight.¡± She glared at the man, ¡°so I suggest you work with us or else this town of yours will be erased just as fast as it appeared, Mayor.¡±

    The Mayor''s face twisted with anger, but he said nothing, knowing there were truth in her words.

    Ries turned to Karoly, ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°The Palushians are gonna retaliate, there¡¯s no doubt about that. We need to make sure we can survive until reinforcements arrive.¡±

    ¡°Hold on, survive? What¡¯s our situation?¡± Ries was taken aback.

    Karoly scoffed, ¡°what do you think it looks like?¡± He looked around with his arms crossed, ¡°we have five men. Guards and police, who are professionals. The rest are just armed civilians.¡± He glares at the mayor.

    ¡°Not civilians Sir director.¡± The mayor returned his glare, ¡°we are prospectors. Frontiersman, who took risk braving the untouched lands in search of wealth.¡±

    ¡°Frontiersman or not,¡± Ries interjected, ¡°you¡¯re not trained soldiers. We need to organize and fortify our defenses quickly. Karoly, get your men to start setting up barricades and defensive positions. Mayor, rally your people and arm them with whatever you have. We need everyone ready.¡±

    ¡°Oh please, like the both of you are even trained soldiers.¡± He scoffed.

    For the first time, Ries saw Karoly tug a smile on his lips. ¡°Ah, I was in the army. Veteran of the eastern campaign.¡±

    The mayor¡¯s eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue. He turned to Ries, ¡°I want assurance the Palushians will not bother me or my fellow frontiersman anymore after this.¡±

    Ries felt unsure as she met his gaze. On one hand, she wasn''t heartless enough to condone the slaughter of the Palushians. On the other hand, she needed the mayor''s cooperation to protect the town. ¡°We¡¯ll do everything we can to negotiate a peaceful resolution once this is over,¡± she said carefully. ¡°But for now, our priority is defense. If we can show strength, perhaps we can bring them to the negotiating table.¡±

    The mayor¡¯s scowl deepened, but he nodded grudgingly. ¡°Very well. We¡¯ll hold the line, but don¡¯t expect us to just sit and wait for a miracle.¡± He then turned to his men and shouted, ¡°MEN! Arm yourselves! We¡¯ll show the savages who truly rules these plains!¡±

    As the mayor¡¯s men began to arm themselves, Ries turned to Karoly. ¡°We need a plan. You said you were in the army?¡±

    Karoly shrugs, ¡°Ranger corps. Did some battles with the desert tribes over in the east.¡±

    ¡°Good¡­ good. Can you lead the defenses?¡± Her eyes are literally begging Karoly to lead. She was an Assassin class during her time at the Adventurer¡¯s guild, not a leader or even a soldier.

    ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll take command.¡± He paused, looking over her, ¡°but I want some good word put for me to the higher-ups.¡±

    ¡°Of course. If we can survive this battle.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll survive. But it¡¯ll be difficult.¡± He looked away to the prospectors who were arming themselves. Most of them were older men, with a few younger ones who handled themselves easily. It was clear these men were well acquainted with rifles.

    ¡°Have you called for help?¡± Ries asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve radioed Nurenses for the provincial guard. We¡¯ll have to survive ¡®till then.¡± He reaches for his pocket for a cigar, ¡°want one?¡±

    Ries looked at the cigar incredulously, before sighing and taking it. "Thanks," she said, lighting it with a match Karoly handed her.

    <hr>

    The Palushian settlement of the Brahe tribe was preparing for an assault against the illegal imperial town. Kali¡¯s father, the chief of the tribe, was preparing the warriors, while her mother, as the High Queen, rallied the rest of the Palushian tribes to kick out the imperials out of their land.

    In truth. Kali was afraid. Afraid of war. While she promised the hero and her parents to fight, she wasn¡¯t able to due to her wound. And thankfully so.

    ¡°People die¡­ just like that?¡± She whispered to herself, the memory of the attack still fresh in her mind. She along with her two best warriors, friends, and the hero, visited the town to talk things out. All in all, she thought it was a good plan. show them they were not just mindless savages, and that they can talk the imperial language.

    True, she did yell at them, but then¡­ The rifles had torn through the two bodyguards who had accompanied her to the Imperial town. There had been no warning¡ªjust a sudden, a deafening BANG, and then they had dropped dead.

    She didn¡¯t even process what had happened yet until after she was pulled into safety by the hero. Her mind registered the pain of the bullet wound after she was brought back to the tribe.

    Lying wounded in her tent, Kali felt the weight of the situation bearing down on her. She had promised to fight, to defend her people, but now she was sidelined, helpless.

    The daughter of the great Brahe chief and the High Queen is despairing over it all. The only ¡®combat¡¯ she¡¯d seen was during her training, and hunting animals. Not actual battles between people aiming to kill another. It could be considered a sheltered life, especially in a tribe where fighting and hunting is the way of life.

    She shuffled to the side when she heard someone opening her tent. It was Hali, her beloved.

    ¡°Your father is leading the first assault on the town. He leads a thousand warriors to reclaim our honor.¡± He said as he sat down beside her.

    ¡°A thousand warriors? Do they stand a chance against the Imperials?¡± Kali''s voice trembled with doubt.

    ¡°Kali¡­ I know you lost your friends, but father believes in our strength. We know these lands, and our warriors are fierce. They number less than a hundred.¡±

    Kali sighed. "But their weapons... those rifles. They''re unlike anything we''ve faced before."

    ¡°I understand. The war council understands that too. We do not know how this ¡®empire¡¯ fights, but we know these lands, and that they are weak for relying on tools to fight. They cannot defeat us.¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°A bow and sword can be considered a tool, you know¡­¡± she murmured quietly.

    ¡°What?¡± Hali asked, slightly taken aback.

    Kali looked at Hali. He was sweet, strong, and caring. Something she liked about him was his caring attitude. But he¡¯s too idealistic sometimes, she thought. He always believed in the strength and honor of their people, perhaps to a fault.

    ¡°Nothing¡­ tell father I will be awaiting his victory.¡±

    ¡°Will do. Rest well.¡±

    Hali left her alone to ponder on her thoughts. Was this the best outcome? There has to be another way that doesn¡¯t involve bloodshed.

    She closed her eyes.

    Outside the tent, Hali found the chief conversing with the hero¡¯s party. An odd group, he thought. It was the first time he had seen an Elf, rare as they are. More so seeing a group of three humans, a Beastmen, and an Elf in one group.

    ¡°Chief.¡± He said, ¡°Kali says she awaits your victory.¡±

    The chief turned to Hali, his expression softening momentarily before returning to its usual stern demeanor. ¡°Thank you, Hali. She is strong, like her mother.¡±

    The hero, Saitou, asked. ¡°How is she?¡±

    ¡°Resting. She¡¯s worried about the battle,¡± Hali replied.

    The hero frowned. ¡°I¡¯m worried too,¡± he then turned to the chief with a concerned look. ¡°Chief, is there really nothing I can do to help?¡±

    ¡°No. This is a Palushian warrior¡¯s honor. We cannot let an outsider help us lest it tarnishes our honor.¡± The chief replied sternly.

    ¡°I see¡­¡± Saitou¡¯s voice trailed off, his concern still evident.

    The chief turned to Hali. ¡°Hali. I want you to stay in the tribe.¡±

    ¡°W- What? But I can fight!¡± Hali seemed taken aback by the chief¡¯s request. Why deny the tribe¡¯s strongest and most promising warrior a battle? Against foreign invaders no less.

    ¡°I want you to protect Kali. If anything happens to me, I want you to be by her side.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t an order. I won¡¯t stop your for coming to the battle. But¡­ I¡¯m worried about that girl.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡± Hali thought it over. He glanced at Kali¡¯s tent and nodded. ¡°I won¡¯t let you down, chief.¡±

    The Chief only nodded, but Hali swore he saw a faint smile on the Chief¡¯s face. He watched as he and the best warriors of the tribe walk out of the tribe to fight the imperials. The hero and his party sat in the sidelines as they too, watched.

    Hali stood there, watching the warriors walk further and further until they disappear in the tree line.

    <hr>

    There were many times when Ries felt she was unsuitable for the things she did. One time, when she had just finished training with her father, she requested to spar with a boy her age. Of course, as it was a martial tribe, she was granted the fight.

    Unfortunately for her, it didn¡¯t go so well. She was utterly defeated by the boy. Then she wanted a do-over. And another, and another. Each ending in defeat. By her tenth attempt, she changed her tactics. Instead of relying on brute strength, she began to focus on agility and strategy. She observed her opponent¡¯s moves, learned his patterns, and started to anticipate his attacks.

    Unfortunately, that was a grave mistake for her. It was perceived as a sign of weakness by her father and by extension, the tribe.

    ¡°The one who hides,¡± they called her. At least that''s what it translates to in the imperial language.

    She opened her eyes and surveyed the room around her. It was the makeshift meeting room in the TAC building with the scent of cigars and cigarettes permeating the room. It turned out it wasn¡¯t only her and Karoly who indulged in the habit. Several frontiersman including the mayor himself were puffing away. Though it was her first-time smoking, she had to admit it was calming her.

    Karoly and the mayor had led to bolster defenses of the small town. Setting up barricades and whatnot. Meanwhile she¡¯s some kind of figurehead? She just sits in meetings just because of her status. Accidental as it may be. Right now, they are

    The more she listened to Karoly, the more she grew increasingly concerned about defending the town. She wasn¡¯t some big-time strategist, she was just a humble adventurer before accidentally entering government. But even she knew they were at a disadvantage.

    First, their defense. The town was small, it only consisted of a few buildings, making it nowhere near enough to make cover for 40 men, most of these frontiersman sleep in tents. The terrain around the town isn¡¯t much better, it was a flat plains grassland.

    Second was their manpower, or lack thereof. They were only 40 men, not including herself, Karoly, and the mayor. That was the entire population of the town, made up of prospectors and pioneers. Even if each of them had a rifle, it wouldn¡¯t matter in the end if they were facing thousands of enemies renowned for their agility.

    As Karoly put it, they had no artillery support, no arcane support, and no professional training. What they did have was one singular machine gun, an old model owned by the mayor. Legal or not was questionable, but it could help with the defense. Aside from the old machine gun, they had explosives. In particular, dynamites. Heaps of it. Perhaps it was the prospectors and pioneers who brought them, hoping to find mineral deposits nearby the area aside from oil?

    Ries mulled over the situation as she absently puffed her cigar. They had to get creative. ¡°Asymmetric warfare¡­¡± She thought out loud.

    Karoly snapped his head and looked up from the map. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Using unconventional tactics to offset the enemy¡¯s advantages. We can¡¯t meet them head on, so we¡¯ll have to use their strengths against them,¡± she explained. ¡°We need to make this town a nightmare to invade.¡±

    ¡°I know what asymmetric warfare is,¡± Karoly scoffed. ¡°But I suppose you¡¯re right.¡±

    ¡°Make this town a nightmare to invade?¡± The mayor raised an eyebrow. ¡°How do you propose we do that?¡±

    Ries tapped her fingers on the table. ¡°You said we have plenty of dynamite, right? We can plant them strategically.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­ we can set traps and obstacles. I suppose we should also dig up pits and fill them with explosives?¡± Karoly looked around the room. ¡°That way, when an unfortunate Palushian or two comes close enough, we can detonate them.¡±

    ¡°We should also rig the building with explosives. And set them to collapse. Turn the town into a death trap.¡± Ries said.

    ¡°Hold on. That would just destroy the town, then!¡± The mayor crossed his arms with a disapproving look on his face. ¡°Those buildings are homes and stores for us. You can¡¯t expect us to destroy it!¡±

    Ries gazed at him with similar expression. ¡°Look, do you value your life or material buildings? Do you want a town left to save or would you rather be killed by uncivilized primitives?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s rich coming from you who is a Beastmen herself!¡±

    Annoyed, she sighed. ¡°After all of this, I can assure you that you would get adequate funding to rebuild your town. Maybe more than enough, I can work it through the ministry. But that depends on your cooperation.¡±

    The mayor scowled. ¡°I want reassurances you would keep your word for it.¡±

    ¡°Consider it that the home affairs ministry owes you a favor.¡±

    She locked eyes with the mayor, to which he broke off first. ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll do it your way. But I¡¯m holding you to that promise.¡±

    ¡°I always keep my promises.¡±

    Seeing the two had ended their exchange, Karoly chimed in. ¡°Then what about the machine gun?¡±

    Ries turned to Karoly. ¡°We¡¯ll place it in a hidden area deep in the town. Preferably here, at the end of the main road.¡± She pointed to a spot on the map. ¡°Machine guns are effective, yes. Their bullets can tear through waves of enemies with ease, but their effectiveness depends on strategic placement.¡±

    She traced a path on the map with her finger. ¡°In an open field, it wouldn¡¯t be as effective. But if we place it at the end of this narrow road, it will create a deadly chokepoint. Combined with our self-destructive tactics, turning the town into a death trap, it could prove very effective.¡±

    Karoly nodded as she finished her explanation. Impressed, perhaps? Hard to tell with his poker face in the way. ¡°Agreed. We¡¯ll make sure it¡¯s well hidden and well protected.¡±

    ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll do it.¡± The mayor still had a disapproving look on his face but relented. ¡°I suppose we should get to work, no? It¡¯s only a couple hours until sunset.¡±

    Ries nodded and watched as the makeshift command center dispersed, leaving her alone in the room. She glanced down at her hand, realizing she had finished her cigar without even noticing. Perhaps it was the stress or her engrossment in the discussion that had distracted her.

    She took a deep breath, trying to calm her mind. Ideally, she should¡¯ve proposed her original plan. Her force of 40 men can¡¯t hope to match thousands of Palushians, therefore they needed to retreat immediately. But not without fighting back. Her original plan consisted of rigging every building in the town with explosives and exploding them once the Palushians enter.

    But what¡¯s done is done.

    She looked down to the burnt-out cigar on her hand and mentally noted she should ask Karoly about where to buy them.

    <hr>

    The night was cold. But perhaps because of the tense situation the town found itself in, nobody had the time to be cold.

    Ries sat on top of the TAC building with a pair of binoculars and a freshly made cup of coffee, surveying the surrounding terrain. A plus trait of the Beastmen demihumans, they could see far better in night than anyone else. So far, there were no signs of Palushian activity. This could be a good or bad thing, depending on how much longer it took for the provincial guard to arrive.

    Finding that an attack wasn¡¯t likely to happen in the next minute or two, she glanced at her side and inspected the rifle given to her by the mayor, an old, breech-loaded rifle with a bayonet attached at the end. She had received basic rifle training from Karoly before, it was straightforward enough¡ªaim, shoot, stab. She hoped she wouldn¡¯t have to use it, but the weight of the rifle in her hands was oddly comforting.

    Down below, the townsfolk and soldiers moved with purpose, setting up barricades, checking weapons, and laying the dynamite according to her plan. The mayor, despite his earlier reluctance, was coordinating efforts with Karoly, ensuring that every detail was seen to. It was a strange camaraderie born of necessity, but it worked.

    She couldn¡¯t help but notice Karoly¡¯s antiquated methods of war. She was pretty sure forming a firing line wasn¡¯t the standard war doctrine in this day and age, but considering they do not have adequate equipment to fight a modern war in a traditional sense, it was acceptable.

    And then there was the machine gun. It wasn¡¯t just outdated¡ªit was ancient, the first-ever model of a machine gun ever made. It was mounted on a wheeled carriage, its metal parts weathered and worn from years of disuse. She doubted its reliability, but it was all they had.

    ¡°But a machine gun is a machine gun, is it not?¡± She mused to herself. As long as it can spit death at 1000 rounds a minute, it¡¯s all that counts. Provided they didn¡¯t run out of ammo first.

    The thought was both comforting and alarming. Comforting because it was a powerful tool in their arsenal; alarming because their fate hung on such an unreliable relic. Ries took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the horizon once more.

    Then, she saw it. Faint light flickering through the treeline. She squinted, focusing on the movement in the shadows. The light grew more distinct, and then the faint sound of drums reached her ears, growing steadily louder. The rhythm was joined by war cries that sent chills down her spine.

    ¡°They¡¯re coming!¡± she yelled to the people below. Thanks to Karoly, the defenders had already formed a firing line, their rifles at the ready.

    She braced herself for the flood gates that is the treeline as she waited for the Palushians to break from the cover of the trees.

    The first wave of warriors emerged, their silhouettes stark against the flickering torchlight. Their war cries echoing through the night. Armed with daggers¡ªshe assumed as she observed them¡ªand light armor covering their vital organs.

    Without warning, they rushed forward with incredible speed, closing the distance to the town with alarming swiftness.

    ¡°Steady!¡± Karoly¡¯s voice rang out. ¡°Wait for my command!¡±

    Ries almost dropped her binoculars when his voice rang out. Instinctively, she reached for her rifle and aimed it at the incoming wave of Palushians. She was shaking, though perhaps due to adrenaline, she forced herself to be steady.

    "Fire!" Karoly''s command cut through the tension, and the night erupted in a deafening volley of gunfire. The front line of Palushian warriors staggered and fell, their charge momentarily halted by the hail of bullets. But more surged forward, undeterred by the losses. It¡¯s as if one fell only to be replaced by three others.

    Ries fired her rifle, the recoil jarring her shoulder. She saw a warrior fall, but there was no time to register the impact. She reloaded, fired again, and again, each shot a desperate attempt to stem the tide. Ries struggled with the process, her hands trembling as she fumbled with the ammunition.

    ¡°Reload!¡± Karoly''s voice rang out once more, ¡°Fire!¡±. The defenders quickly obeyed, pulling fresh cartridges from their pouches and firing another volley.

    Despite the relentless gunfire, the Palushians continued their advance. It seemed for every one that fell, another took their place. They were now closing in on the town, the gap between the attackers and defenders shrinking rapidly.

    ¡°Hold the line!¡± Karoly¡¯s voice cut through the tension as the first wave of Palushians clashed with the defenders. Daggers met bayonets in brutal melee combat.

    Ries watched in horror as the battle devolved into chaotic close-quarters fighting. She took a deep breath, steadied her rifle, and aimed carefully. She fired into the melee, trying to support the defenders below and picking off the Palushians one by one.

    Suddenly, as she was aiming at a Palushian, ready to fire, a dagger slashed in front of her. She staggered back, her rifle slipping from her grasp. The Palushian warrior loomed over her, eyes wild with fury.

    Ries'' heart raced as she fumbled for her sidearm, but the warrior was too quick. He lunged at her, dagger poised for a fatal strike. With a quick movement, she kicked out, connecting with the warrior''s shin and causing him to stumble.

    Using the momentary distraction, she grabbed her rifle and used the bayonet to thrust it upwards, piercing the warrior¡¯s side. He let out a guttural cry, but his grip on the dagger didn¡¯t waver. They grappled, each trying to overpower the other.

    She pulled the bayonet out and managed to shoot the Palushian in the torso before thrusting the bayonet into him again and twisting it deep. When she pulled the bayonet out, the warrior collapsed and fell from the roof, presumably dead.

    Breathing heavily, she quickly scanned her surroundings. The battle seemed to be coming to a close. The Palushians were retreating en masse from the town as she heard Karoly yell, ¡°Push them back!¡± or something along those lines.

    Ries took a moment to steady herself, wiping the sweat from her brow. The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins, but the immediate threat had passed. She glanced down and saw the defenders rallying, driving the Palushians back into the forest. The town was holding its ground, for now.

    She climbed down and approached Karoly, who was barking orders here and there. ¡°How much did we lose?¡± she asked with a hoarse voice.

    Karoly looked to her. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t died yet. We¡¯ve lost two.¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow. ¡°Only two? How many we faced? Around a hundred?¡±

    ¡°Only.¡± He scoffed, ¡°Most of us are wounded.¡±

    ¡°Right... I¡¯ll help with the wounded and prepare for the next assault¡ªoh...¡± Her eyes drifted to the distant treeline where the Palushians were once again rushing forward. But this time, there were more¡ªlikely the entire army in the thousands.

    An arrow violently planting itself just beside her snapped her out of her thoughts. Instinctively, she shouted orders at Karoly. ¡°Get into position! We¡¯re blowing this town sky-high!¡±

    Karoly¡¯s eyes widened, but he quickly nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. ¡°Everyone, fall back! Prepare the charges!¡± he barked, his voice carrying over the din of the battlefield.

    The defenders quickly retreated into the town and jumped into makeshift trenches on the opposite end. Conveniently, this was where they had placed the ancient machine gun. All they needed to do was wait for the Palushians to enter the town and then detonate the charges.

    The moments that followed were tense, filled with the heavy breathing of the defenders and the distant, growing roar of the Palushian war cries. Ries crouched in the trench, clutching her rifle and glancing at the machine gun, hoping it would function when needed.

    Karoly positioned himself by the detonator, his eyes fixed on the approaching enemy. ¡°Steady, everyone,¡± he murmured, his voice barely audible above the chaos.

    The Palushians poured into the town, with overwhelming numbers. A bigger-than-average Palushian was leading the charge, she saw. They entered the buildings to make sure there weren¡¯t any stragglers trying to hide or ambush them.

    Ries glanced at Karoly, who¡¯s hands rested on the detonator.

    Using wires and well-placed dynamites hidden inside buildings, underground, and in plain barrels, it would surely make for a destructive force. Barrels of crude oil were placed strategically near these dynamites so they could splatter and set on fire by the explosion, hopefully burning the Palushians.

    The first ranks of Palushian warriors reached the center of town, their eyes scanning for the defenders. Just as the bulk of their forces entered the heart of the town, Karoly slammed his hand down on the detonator.

    The ground beneath them erupted in a series of deafening explosions. Fire and debris shot into the sky as the charges detonated, tearing through the ranks of the Palushians. The barrels of crude oil burst open, splattering burning liquid into the unsuspecting Palushians.

    ¡°Let it loose!¡± Karoly yelled at the mayor manning the machine gun beside him.

    The ancient machine gun roared to life, its old mechanisms clanking loudly as it spat out bullets at a rapid pace. The Palushians, already disoriented and devastated by the explosions, found themselves caught in a deadly crossfire. The gunfire mowed down rows of warriors, the combination of bullets and fire creating chaos in their ranks.

    ¡°Open fire!¡± Karoly barked his order, and the defenders let loose a hail of bullets, adding to the carnage. The relentless gunfire tore through the advancing Palushians, who struggled to regain their footing amidst the inferno and the deadly barrage.

    Ries fired her rifle, now with more precise shots, picking off any Palushians who managed to break through the initial onslaught. She eyed the leader of the Palushians, who struggled to rally his forces. His larger frame made it easier for her to aim.

    The leader shouted commands at his warriors, attempting to impose some sort of order on the chaotic battlefield. But a well-placed shot from Ries ended that. He fell, engulfed by the flames, his body consumed by the chaos he had tried to control.

    As the Palushian leader''s lifeless form hit the ground, the morale of his warriors shattered. The invaders hesitated, their advance faltering as confusion and fear spread through their ranks. Uncertainty in the middle of chaos is a fool¡¯s move. Sensing the shift, Karoly seized the moment.

    ¡°Push them back!¡± he shouted, his voice cutting through the din of battle. ¡°Don¡¯t let them regroup!¡±

    With a roar, the defenders rose from the trench and charged at the disorganized Palushian warriors. Confusion was still evident in the enemy ranks, with many choosing to retreat out from the town as the defenders routed them.

    Ries found herself in the midst of the chaotic push, her rifle raised as she advanced alongside them. The Palushians, now leaderless and disoriented, were no match for the renewed vigor of the town¡¯s defenders. She saw the enemy stumble over debris and each other, their once fierce battle cries now turning into shouts of panic and retreat.

    She shot at a retreating warrior, then she engaged in melee with another warrior. She ended him with a bayonet stab directly in his throat.

    Then she shot at another, and another.

    Shoot.

    Stab.

    Shoot.

    Stab.

    Kill.

    Her movements became almost mechanical as she moved through the carnage, occasionally stepping on the carcass of a dead or burnt-out Palushian.

    She fired her rifle at a Palushian attempting to climb over a barricade, then turned and stabbed another who charged at her with a desperate scream. The repetitive cycle of violence was exhausting, but there was no room for hesitation.

    Shoot.

    Stab.

    Shoot.

    Stab.

    Kill.

    She shot at a female warrior. So the Palushians have female warriors too? She thought she heard the warrior plead something, but couldn''t process it as she continued her shooting, and stabbing, and killing. Until there were none left.

    The battlefield fell eerily silent, the last echoes of gunfire and screams fading into the night. Ries stood amidst the devastation, her breath heavy, her body aching. The adrenaline that had fueled her began to wane, leaving a profound exhaustion in its wake.

    She looked around, the reality of the carnage sinking in. Bodies of the fallen, both friend and foe, burnt to a crisp beyond imagineable, littered the ground. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, blood, and burning oil. The town had held, destroyed, sure, but it held.

    Ries''s hands shook as she lowered her rifle. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and then puked.

    <hr>

    The returning warriors were a sorry sight. Kali forced herself to welcome her father¡¯s returning warriors victoriously. What greeted her instead was a bloodied, burnt, and battered group of warriors numbering probably less than four hundred.

    Her father was nowhere to be seen, and for the first time in her life, she wept.

 Part VIII: Para Bellum

    If somehow a person is transported to the past, and they ask the locals directions to Valyra, they might get mixed answers depending on the time period in which they arrived at. For Valyra has a long-standing history that predates the empire and its dragon God they worshipped, perhaps dating to antiquity where the first man made his home and the first wars were fought in these lands.

    As indeed! The city has come far. Far beyond what its original inhabitants could imagine thousands of years ago.

    The first ancestors of the Valerys Imperial royal family settled on this insignificant city some seven hundred years ago after their God had been killed and his realm fractured into warlords each vying dominance and claiming themselves to be the divine continuation of his realm.

    From the hills of the Valyran plains, where the endless fertile soil birthed an extensive agricultural culture that lasted for millennia, to towering factories producing commodities around the clock. From small stone buildings to towering megalopolis that has long since overgrown past its city walls. From an insignificant backwater city to the center of an empire with over a hundred million souls under its dominion.

    One of the landmarks of the city is the towering Imperial Palace, located opposite of the governance complex across the wide boulevard that connects the throne and the seat of government. Measuring one hundred and fifty meters in height, with each spires piercing the sky.

    Nestled within the palace is a large room, more than large enough to be an office, furnished with the finest of furniture and scented with exotic perfumes that smelled like heaven on earth. The polished mahogany desk stands at the center, adorned with intricate carvings and inlaid with gold. Plush velvet chairs, upholstered in deep crimson, heavy silk curtains drape the tall windows, filtering the sunlight and casting a warm, golden glow over the room.

    Sat behind the mahogany desk was the young Empress recently crowned after her father¡¯s ¡®unfortunate¡¯ passing. Her face bore the signs of exhaustion, dark circles forming under her eyes. Despite her weariness, her posture remained regal for her age.

    These past months ever since her ascension has been hit with a cascade of unfortunate events one after the other. The nobles have been getting rowdy ever since she abolished the position of Prime Minister, no thanks to one Earl Henry Eden¡¯s rabblerousing which emboldened most of the aristocracy to take a stance against her.

    In any normal circumstance, she would have removed these troublemakers immediately. Unfortunately, she inherited an empire in disorder. It was overextended, its bureaucracy bloated, and its military stretched thin. Though by law, she has every right to do whatever she wanted to, with her reputation combined with imperial authority being challenged by both the aristocracy and liberal commoners, made every bit of decision-making a precarious balancing act.

    The Empress sighed, her fingers drumming on the polished mahogany desk. The reports in front of her detailed a litany of issues: aristocrats pushing for the restoration of premiership, liberal agitators pushing for reform, Aquilean aggressive posturing in the swirling ocean, and more recently, the war against the Palushian tribes. She knew she had to act swiftly, but every decision was a double-edged sword waiting like a guillotine to slam down and behead her if she made a wrong move.

    Her options were limited, and as of right now her hands are tied with handling the aristocracy. For now.

    It was two-past forty in the afternoon when the large door of her office opened with a gritty sound, and in came Archduke Elias Veron, director of the Imperial Security Directorate. His stout figure, dressed in the dark, impeccable uniform of his office, masked his unsightly body.

    He was always a shady and slimy man, she thought. Having served over three monarchs¡ªher grandfather, her father, and now her¡ªthere was something about him that repulsed her, an air of sliminess and deceit that she couldn¡¯t shake. Yet, she knew she couldn¡¯t get rid of him. His position meant he knew almost everything about anyone and probably knew the deepest of secrets. Like a snake in the garden, he is a constant threat so long as he lives.

    "Your Majesty," Veron began, bowing slightly. His voice was smooth, almost oily but spoken like a true nobleman as he addressed her. ¡°I trust you have perused my recommendations for handling this dire situation?¡±

    The Empress regarded him with a steely gaze. "Indeed, Archduke Veron. Your insights are, as always, thorough." She spoke with her posh, soft voice. She opened her drawer and set two folders labeled ¡®TOP SECRET¡¯ on her desk.

    ¡°Most excellent, Your Majesty.¡± Veron shifted his posture and clasped his hands behind his back. ¡°Say the word, and I shall promptly address the troublesome elements besetting your reign¡±

    The Empress narrowed her eyes. Though she had employed underhanded means to secure the throne, she did not endorse such tactics with fervor, rather disdain. Her ascension to power was born of necessity for the empire¡¯s continued survival. In her mind, a grand vision for an empire that would last a thousand years more¡ªa vision that was not shared by her puppet of a father and her debauched, cowardly brothers.

    Similarly, the abolition of the premiership¡ªradical as it may have been¡ªaimed to and successfully cut through bureaucratic red tape and limit the aristocracy¡¯s influence, giving her the freedom to reassert control as she sees fit.

    "Your enthusiasm is noted, Archduke," she said, scrutinizing the man before her. "I was unaware that the ISD possessed such boldness. Pray, when did this attitude arise?"

    Veron chuckled. "I am honored that my efforts are recognized by the highest authority in the land, Your Majesty. The exigencies of the times have necessitated a certain boldness in approach."

    The Empress, unyielding in her gaze, seized a folder and raised it for him to see. "Tell me, Archduke, why should I proceed with this plan of yours?" She cast the folder onto the desk with a dismissive flick. "And pray, why did you deem it fitting to name these ''war plans''?"

    Veron''s smile widened. "Your Majesty, the term ''war plans'' is not intended to incite fear but to convey the urgency and gravity of our predicament. Our enemies within our borders grow bolder by the day. If left unchecked, it may one day explode like a powder keg. The defiance of the aristocracy, the clamor of the liberal agitators, and the threats from beyond all demand a decisive response."

    He paused, strolling toward the right side of the room where a giant painting of their dragon God hung. "These plans are devised to restore order and solidify your authority, Your Majesty. Should you choose to act immediately, my ISD can demonstrate that your rule is nigh unassailable."

    The Empress'' eyes followed him, her expression impassive. "You speak of demonstrating unassailable rule, Archduke, yet I ponder if these methods will engender more foes than they quell. A ruler must invoke fear, yes, but also command respect. I cannot afford to alienate the entirety of my realm. What is a sovereign without subjects?"

    Veron inclined his head slightly. "Your Majesty, your wisdom is unparalleled. These plans, while formidable, are but tools to be wielded with discretion. My ISD aims to use surgical methods to quietly and efficiently dispose of their targets."

    The Empress considered his words, her fingers lightly tapping on the desk''s polished surface before responding. "I shall refuse your proposal for the present,¡± she intoned, leaning back in her chair and casting the folders back into the drawer.

    Veron bowed his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "As you command, Your Majesty. I shall await your further instructions."

    "Ensure that the ISD remains vigilant," the Empress continued, running her fingers through her silky hair. "We shall monitor the situation meticulously and act with precision when the moment is of the opportune. When we do strike, it shall be quick and merciless. Understand me?"

    "Indeed, Your Majesty," Veron replied. "Your prudence shall guide us in these turbulent times."

    Veron excused himself with a low bow and the Empress watched as his stout figure receded through the door. Once alone, she turned her gaze to the documents on the desk.

    The empire was fortunate enough to have her as their monarch, she mused. Not many would care for their nation more than they care for earthly desires or sell their own fiefdom for mere short-term ecstasy. A nation must have a ruler who is strong, unwavering in their duty, and resolute in their vision.

    These subversive elements must be crushed sooner or later. Irritating as it may be to keep them around much longer, they may prove to be more than perfect scapegoats. Their very existence could serve to unite the disparate factions within her realm, presenting a common enemy against whom all could rally.

    The Empress leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing in contemplation. "Patience," she whispered to herself. "All in due time."

    For now, she would tread carefully and observe the pieces as they fell into place. As the living incarnate of the law, and as the representative of God in the mortal realm, the very notion of ''defiance'' was something quite abhorrent to her. It was not merely an affront to her person but a challenge to the divine order she embodied.

    But she knew better than to ignore the changing times; so too must the empire and its people evolve. On the surface, the empire was an absolute theocratic monarchy, with her serving as both Empress and the representative of God, from whom divine authority and whose blood flowed in her veins, and who was destined to return in due time. Beneath the surface, however, it had become a chaotic mess of alliances, scattered treaties blurring the lines of what was and was not legal.

    Should her visions be realized, these issues must be addressed and wiped completely. No longer should any person defy her rule, and no longer shall the empire be incapacitated by its own internal discord. She would bring the empire from the cesspit of backwardness into a new modern age, with it kicking and screaming if necessary.

    <hr>

    Sometimes, Ries wondered if her luck may be her own undoing. These past months since the battle of Ny Dessechey she had been swamped with a multitude of responsibilities. Responsibilities she never consented to. Among other things, being appointed as a representative of the Tribal Affairs Commission tasked with overseeing the pacification of the Palushian tribes was not what she expected. Who could¡¯ve guessed Eden would¡¯ve put a Beastmen in charge of bringing another group of Beastmen into the fold?

    Regardless, she would be lying if she didn¡¯t enjoy the benefits that came with that position, on top of being a Deputy Minister.

    Can¡¯t say the same for her current situation though¡­ It has been months since the battle at Ny Dessechey, and since then the imperial army has bled its way through the Palushian heartlands. Keyword bled, since the Palushians, agile and resourceful, had unsurprisingly resorted to hit-and-run guerrilla tactics, coupled with a host of other unconventional methods that had taken their toll on the empire''s forces. The rigid and methodical approach of the imperial army, so effective in open battlefields, was ill-suited to the fluid and unpredictable style of warfare employed by the Palushians.

    What the Palushians lacked, however, was manpower. And that was the empire¡¯s one saving grace, though it came at a steep cost. The imperial forces were bleeding, yes, but they had the numbers to absorb those losses, at least for now. The empire¡¯s vast reserves of men and resources allowed it to endure the attrition that would have broken a lesser force, but the price of that endurance was growing ever higher.

    Anyone who thought those ¡®savages¡¯ could easily be crushed with the might of the empire might want to reeducate themselves. The Palushians was quick to adapt and started to use the rifles stolen from ambushed soldiers. Of course that meant the empire too resorted to more aggressive methods.

    Aggressive methods meaning they run face first into what is essentially a brick wall without any protection whatsoever. The artillery has its use limited when they entered the forested terrain, cavalry use was also limited, which leaves just the average infantry to try and take a tribal settlement. Which they did, at an expensive price of just shy of twenty thousand men.

    When that report reached the capital, Ries could only imagine the fury of the Empress¡ªor whoever was in command at the time. The general responsible for this disastrous campaign was promptly discharged, replaced by someone new. That change had occurred some weeks ago, and since then, Ries, as the highest civilian authority, found herself in charge of what remained of the army garrisoning the tribe they had taken.

    Thankfully, she hadn¡¯t yet needed to resort to extreme measures, hopefully she wouldn¡¯t ever have to.

    ¡°Madame Anise,¡± she was snapped from her thoughts as she heard her second in command, a lieutenant, calling her with a sharp voice from outside her tent.

    ¡°Yes, Lieutenant?¡± She responded, turning toward the entrance just as the flap of her tent was pulled back.

    The lieutenant stepped inside, saluting crisply before speaking. "Our scouts have made contact with the reinforcements, along with the new general. They are now leading them here."

    She nodded, her mind immediately shifting to the logistics. ¡°How far out are they?¡±

    ¡°Less than an hour, Madame,¡± he replied.

    ¡°That fast?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Madame. They move with motorized vehicles.¡± He confirmed.

    Ries nodded. ¡°Very well, you are dismissed,¡± the lieutenant saluted and left her tent. She leaned back on her seat for a moment before taking a deep breath and standing up. She grabbed her handgun, tidied her desk, and walked outside.

    Her tent was located on a hill in the center of the tribe overlooking a quaint Palushian settlement. She took out a cigar and was about to light it up when she went against it.

    ¡®Now¡¯s not the time¡­¡±.

    She took the time to feel her surroundings. The cruising nimbus clouds drifting lazily against the azure sky, the cool breeze that caressed her skin, and the scent of pine and earth carried on the wind¡ªall seemed to conspire in creating an illusion of tranquility. The view was serene, deceptively so, as if the land itself had forgotten the bloodshed and tension that had brought them here.

    This Palushian settlement they captured was a significant one, housing almost three thousand residents, roughly the size of a very small town. It wasn¡¯t easy disarming the population and establish control of a martial race such as them. Even she still feels the resentment emanating from the Palushians. The outward calm of the settlement was just a fa?ade, beneath it, she knew the people were simmering with barely restrained anger.

    As she walked down to reach the entrance of the settlement, she passed by several checkpoints manned by soldiers. Equipped with a more up-to-date bolt action rifles and more professional training than the frontiersman she fought with in Ny Dessechey. The streets were empty, save for few Palushians here and there going about their day.

    Ries couldn¡¯t help but notice their rabbit-like ears, a defining trait of their kind, twitching slightly as if on constant alert. Like many other Beastmen, the Palushians possessed heightened senses akin to animals, and their sensitive hearing made them acutely aware of every sound, every whisper of movement around them.

    She reached the entrance of the settlement, just in time, too. The reinforcements had arrived. First it was a convoy of trucks carrying heavy hunks of metal behind them, then it was the infantry marching in unison and orderly line, finally it was the cavalry.

    As the last of the cavalry passed through the entrance, Ries squared her shoulders and prepared to meet the new general.

    ¡®Formalities, formalities¡­¡¯ She thought with a twinge of impatience. She would much rather get this over with and return to the capital.

    The convoy came to a halt, and the soldiers began to disembark, forming up in ranks as they awaited their orders. Then, from the lead truck, a figure emerged¡ªa man wearing a tricorne with colorful feathers and a caped uniform, a saber attached beside him. The outfit was a curious mix of flamboyance and formality, the bright feathers and tailored cape adding an almost theatrical flair to his calm appearance. His eyes swept over the assembled forces before settling on Ries.

    He smiled and approached her. Ries was prepared to give the man a handshake and already extended her hand for a firm handshake. But to her surprise, instead of shaking her hand, the man took it gently in his own and brought it to his lips, bestowing a light, almost courtly kiss upon it.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    The unexpected gesture caught her off guard, and for a brief moment, she was at a loss for how to respond. The general¡¯s actions were disarming, to say the least¡ªan unusual mix of gallantry and perhaps to throw her off guard?

    ¡°Madame Anise,¡± he finally spoke. Releasing her hand and standing straight. ¡°If it is not a burden to you, I, general Alto Jachs, shall relieve the forces here.¡±

    Ries quickly regained her composure, withdrawing her hand with a polite, if guarded, smile. She remembered the formalities. ¡°I¡¯ll need to see the order.¡±

    ¡°Ah, how could I forget?¡± he replied, a note of amusement in his voice as he reached into his uniform. From an inner pocket, he produced a folded parchment, sealed with the official crest of the Empire. He offered it to her with a flourish, as though presenting a gift rather than a mere document.

    Ries took the parchment, breaking the seal and carefully unfolding it. Her eyes scanned the contents quickly, verifying the authenticity of the order. Everything appeared to be in order¡ªthe signature of the Empress herself was unmistakable, and the directive was clear, the general before her was indeed authorized to take command of the forces stationed here.

    Satisfied, she folded the document back up and handed it to him. ¡°It seems everything is in order, General. The garrison is officially under your control.¡±

    ¡°Excellent,¡± he said with a slight nod, tucking the parchment back into his uniform. His tone was smooth, almost too polished, as if he¡¯d rehearsed this moment many times over. ¡°Lead me to the command tent, if you so please, Madame.¡±

    Ries inclined her head slightly, masking any reservations she had. ¡°This way, General.¡± She turned and began walking back toward the heart of the settlement, the general falling into step beside her.

    As they walked, she noticed the curious glances from the soldiers they passed, their expressions were probably those of curiosity. They had heard of the general¡¯s arrival but had yet to see him up close. The feathered tricorne and caped uniform certainly made an impression, one that was far removed from the austere military garb they were accustomed to.

    Come to think of it, she mused, those kinds of military uniforms had fallen out of fashion years ago. Yet here he was, boldly flaunting a style that had long since been replaced by more practical attire.

    She led him through the settlement, the sounds of the garrison gradually fading as they approached the command tent perched on the hill. Once they reached the hill, the general stops. ¡°Madame, we shall conduct our next order of operations here.¡±

    Ries turned to him, her brow furrowed in confusion. ¡°Here? Outside?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± he replied with a confident smile. ¡°As I said.¡±

    Before she could question him further, the general signaled to one of his adjutants, who quickly came running up the hill, followed by a group of other officers. They unfurled a giant map onto the ground at Jachs¡¯ feet. The map was detailed, showing not just the settlement but the surrounding regions, including key locations and terrain features.

    Jachs stepped onto the map without hesitation, still, his figure only occupied aa small portion of the map, his boots pressing into the fabric as he studied it. ¡°Aerial reconnaissance has its uses, eh?¡± He remarked.

    ¡°It certainly gives us a clear view.¡± She followed his lead and stepped into the map, looking around it. The map was impressive, offering a bird¡¯s-eye perspective of the territory they were in.

    Jachs gestured to a point on the map. ¡°We are here, yes?¡± His finger pointed to a small, marked settlement. ¡°This is the Brahe tribe. Over there¡­¡± His hand moved across the map to another location, ¡°...is the Wilten tribe. Supposedly it is the largest Palushian settlement in the region and the strongest, too.¡±

    "I¡¯ve heard that we¡¯ve secured three tribes already?" Ries inquired, her gaze following Jachs¡¯ hand as it moved across the map.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jachs nodded. ¡°Though from what I¡¯ve gathered, many of their warriors and leaders, including the high Queen, retreated to Wilten before we could fully subdue them. It seems they¡¯ve consolidated their strength there."

    ¡°So what will you do?¡±

    ¡°Simply, Madame,¡± he smirked. ¡°If it¡¯s a siege they want, a siege they shall receive!¡±

    Ries arched an eyebrow. ¡°A siege?¡±

    ¡°I suppose you saw the metal hunks I brought with me?¡± Jachs glanced back at the trucks now stationed around the military camp.

    Ries followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight. ¡°I saw them. Artillery?¡±

    ¡°More than just artillery, Madame,¡± Jachs replied, his enthusiasm barely contained. ¡°Those are the disassembled pieces of the forty-two centimeter field artillery. Once assembled, each one will weigh a hundred and fifty tons with a range of fourteen kilometers.¡± He gestured expansively with his arms, as though imagining the devastation they would soon unleash.

    He paused, catching his breath after his rapid explanation. ¡°Against the wooden defenses of these tribals, well, I dare say it¡¯ll make quite the impact.¡±

    Ries stared at him, unblinking. The man before her was talking about using heavy artillery against wooden walls¡ªpractically a massacre in the making. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of firepower to bring down what¡¯s essentially a wooden wall.¡±

    Jachs met her gaze with a confident, almost dismissive, smile. "Overwhelming force, Madame," he said. ¡°The Palushians are a very traditional and prideful martial race. I fear every able tribesman will fight to the end. To that end, we shall break their spirit first, raining destruction on them like a mechanical angel of destruction.¡±

    Ries felt a surge of anger rise within her as Jachs spoke with such cold certainty about his plan to essentially decimate the Wilten tribe. The idea of using overwhelming force to crush a proud, traditional people, whose only crime was defending their home, sickened her. She had only seen war one time, heck she¡¯s used to killing, but this¡ªthis was something else entirely.

    "General as a representative of the Tribal Affairs Commission, I am strongly against this course of action." She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as she held his gaze. "We are not just here to conquer, we are here to bring these people into the fold, to integrate them into the Empire without erasing who they are."

    Jachs looked at her, the confident smile faltering for the first time as he registered her opposition. "Madame Anise," he began, his tone now laced with a hint of condescension, "you must understand the nature of these people. They are warriors, fighters to the core. If we do not break their spirit, they will continue to resist, and more blood will be spilled¡ªours and theirs. This is the quickest, most effective way to end the conflict."

    "And what then?" Ries shot back. "What happens after you''ve broken their spirit? After you''ve turned their homes to rubble and slaughtered their warriors? You think they''ll simply submit? Or will you be left with a people who harbor nothing but hatred for the Empire, a people who will never forget or forgive what was done to them?"

    "You speak as if we have a choice, Madame," he said, his voice growing colder. "War is not a matter of idealism. It is about victory, survival. The strong prevail, the weak submit¡ªthat is the way of the world."

    "I am a Beastman, General," she said quietly. "I come from a tribe not unlike the Palushians. We have our traditions, our pride, our way of life. I understand the need for strength, but there is a difference between strength and cruelty, and I come from a tribe with heavy emphasis on strength. What you are proposing is nothing less than the annihilation of a people."

    He lets out a quiet scoff and paused, looking around the settlement. ¡°I have my orders, you have yours. We are professionals, and if you have any concerns or any suggestions I suggest you run it up to our wonderful bureaucracy.¡± Jachs remained silent for a moment, studying her with an unreadable expression. "I respect your passion, Madame Anise. But this is not a battle we can afford to lose. I will take your concerns into consideration, but the decision stands. The Empire''s interests must come first."

    Jachs broke eye contact, turning his attention back to the map at their feet. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to discussing tomorrow¡¯s strategy,¡± he said, his voice now all business.

    She nodded, if a bit irritated. ¡°What do you have in mind?¡±

    Jachs unsheathed his saber with a sharp, metallic hiss, using the blade to trace a line across the map. ¡°Tonight, we will march to this location,¡± the tip of his saber hovered over a flat area marked on the map. ¡°It¡¯s mostly flat, with a significant mound. We¡¯ll establish our battle line there.¡±

    He then moved the saber toward another point, stopping at a settlement situated in a clearing within a dense forest. ¡°And here, beyond this forest, lies Wilten.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a pretty large forest, are you sure you can breach that?¡± Ries recalled hearing news about the heavy casualties when the army marched into a forest, which happened all across Palushian territories.

    ¡°I¡¯ve brought mages with us. They¡¯ve been working on enchantments for our artillery shells, specifically designed to cut through the forest.¡±

    Ries looked at him, surprised. ¡°Mages?¡± That¡¯s a whole other level of commitment, considering how valuable they are. ¡°How did you get approval for this?¡±

    He waved dismissively. ¡°Ah, I asked them if there¡¯s one or two mages lying around that I can borrow. Turns out there was three.¡±

    Ries blinked, taken aback by his nonchalance. ¡°Three mages... just lying around?¡±

    Jachs chuckled, clearly amused by her reaction. ¡°The bureaucracy can be a wonderful thing, Madame. Sometimes, all it takes is the right request at the right time. You should know,¡± he cleared his throat. ¡°But I digress.¡±

    He looked back at the map, his saber tracing a circle around the flat area. "The engineers will construct a trench system here, and artillery encampments will be positioned along the ridge. The artillery I mentioned earlier is unfortunately still experimental in nature, and thus we only have four of them," He sheaths his saber. ¡°We will need to assemble them on field, which will take significant time.¡±

    Ries¡¯ brow furrowed as she considered the logistics. ¡°Experimental?¡±

    ¡°Ah, I suppose I should¡¯ve mentioned that I served as a military attach¨¦ to the Valkorian Kingdom for quite some time. I was specifically recalled and reassigned to this front to test out some new tactics I¡¯ve learned from the Valkorians.¡±

    Ries tilted her head slightly. ¡°Valkoria?¡± She asked. Her knowledge of foreign nations was limited, to say the least. She had little reason or opportunity to learn about distant kingdoms.

    Jachs rubbed his chin. ¡°How should I put this¡­ the Valkorians are at war with the empire of Great Boria which lies north of us. Naturally, we are keen on exploiting them.¡±

    ¡°Exploit?¡± Now she was just asking questions like a little child. Not that it''s forbidden, but she really doesn''t know what else to add other than her thoughts.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jachs continued. ¡°The empire has been selling weapons to the Valkorians. It¡¯s a mutually beneficial arrangement, really. They get the firepower they need to hold their own against Great Boria, and we get a steady influx of funds, not to mention insight into their military advancements.¡±

    ¡°And what is this tactic you speak of?¡±

    ¡°The Valkorians call it ¡®storm troopers¡¯ or something along those lines,¡± Jachs replied, his hands articulating it. ¡°It¡¯s a highly effective method of rapid, focused assault, designed to break through enemy lines with speed and precision. I believe it will be a perfect counter to the agile Palushians. They rely on mobility and hit-and-run tactics, but if we can overwhelm them with a swift and concentrated strike, we can shatter their defenses before they even have a chance to react.¡±

    Ries considered his words, her brow furrowing with concern and unease about what he¡¯s going to say next. ¡°But they¡¯re entrenched, aren¡¯t they? Wouldn¡¯t that tactic be more effective on an open field? We¡¯re talking about a forest with natural barriers that could slow down your forces.¡±

    Jachs smirked. ¡°That¡¯s where the mages come in. I¡¯ve brought them along to, well, erase the forest, so to speak. A few well-placed volleys of fire-enchanted artillery shells should clear the way. Once the trees are out of the equation, the Palushians will be exposed, and that¡¯s when we strike.¡±

    He looked at her as if expecting her to shoot back regarding the cruelty of such actions. But she merely pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. ¡°This isn¡¯t my place¡­ I¡¯ll be going back to the capital, I don¡¯t want to be associated with mass murderers.¡±

    Jachs raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by her blunt statement. He had anticipated resistance, perhaps even outrage, but her calm resignation caught him off guard.

    ¡°Well, I suppose that¡¯s one way of referring to soldiers.¡± He steps out of the map and lights up a cigar. ¡°Though I recommend you stay out of Valyra for a while.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Ries joined him, lighting her own cigar and taking a slow drag. ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±

    Jachs inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling in a long stream. ¡°Riots, protests, all that nonsense. The streets reek of burnt cigarettes and piss.¡± He winced

    ¡°What about?¡±

    ¡°Liberals,¡± he sighed, as if the word itself left a bad taste in his mouth. ¡°As usual, they¡¯re the ones stirring the pot. Demanding reform, more rights, less control. They want change, and they¡¯re making a lot of noise about it.¡±

    "I see..." she said quietly, not hiding her lack of enthusiasm. Politics and ideologies never interested her, even after she was thrust into becoming a deputy minister. They always seemed like endless debates that led nowhere and only produce headaches for everyone involved. "Do you think they can actually make reforms happen?"

    ¡°They¡¯re idealists,¡± Jachs muttered, taking another drag from his cigar. ¡°Always thinking they can reshape the world by shouting loud enough. But the Empire is a machine, Madame. It grinds on, regardless of what they want. They¡¯re just making it harder for everyone, including themselves.¡±

    ¡°Then I suppose I¡¯ll stay here for a while,¡± she replied, not entirely convinced. The liberals have a good point, believe it or not.

    Jachs paused, then added, "Oh, but I have a task for you, Madame. As a diplomat to the Palushians."

    Ries turned to look at him. ¡°A diplomat?¡± she echoed, surprised by the sudden shift in their conversation. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I need someone they can trust,¡± Jachs explained. ¡°Someone who understands their culture, their values¡ªa Beastman, like you. Your presence could help ease tensions, perhaps even broker some sort of understanding before things escalate further.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re asking me to make them surrender, is that what you meant?¡±

    ¡°You said it yourself, didn¡¯t you?¡± He flicked his cigar to the ground and stomped on it. ¡°You¡¯ve made it clear that you want to ¡®save¡¯ them from what you see as unnecessary destruction. This is your chance. Go to them, speak on behalf of the Empire, and try to find a solution that doesn¡¯t end in bloodshed.¡±

    Ries studied him for a moment, weighing his words. ¡°And if they refuse?¡± she finally asked.

    He shrugged. ¡°At least we tried to be diplomatic.¡±

    Ries thought of it for a while. ¡®A diplomat? That¡¯s not me¡¯, she thought. Even with her fake identity as a deputy minister, she was always comfortable either in battle or ordering someone else to do things for her. Technically she doesn¡¯t even have any sort of formal education. Negotiation, diplomacy¡ªthose were the tools of politicians, which she isn¡¯t.

    ¡°Diplomat,¡± she repeated softly, almost as if testing the word. ¡°You¡¯re asking a lot from someone who isn¡¯t exactly known for their silver tongue.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right. I heard you only passed the Imperial Examination with flying colors and immediately hired as deputy minister, no? It¡¯s clear then you don¡¯t have any experience.¡±

    Jachs is right, she only accidentally got appointed as deputy minister, not even qualified. Again, it seems her luck is something else entirely.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± she said after a long pause, her voice steady but laced with reluctance. ¡°But don¡¯t expect miracles. I¡¯m no diplomat, and I won¡¯t pretend to be one.¡±

    Jachs smiled and nodded. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect anything less, Madame. Now, I¡¯ve been getting thirsty, how about a drink to cool off?¡±

    <hr>

    The clear night sky was beautiful, Ries thought to herself as she rode under a blanket of stars. It was well past midnight, and the world around her was silent save for the rhythmic sound of her horse¡¯s hooves against the earth and the occasional sounds of critters in the underbrush.

    She had been riding for hours, knowing that the journey to the Wilten tribe would take at least five more if she kept up her current pace. She had departed at the same time the army had begun its march, but unlike them, her path was a solitary one. The army would take at least twice as long to reach their position, their progress slowed by the sheer number of troops and the heavy equipment they carried. Even with trucks at their disposal, the terrain and logistics would inevitably delay them.

    She found her self to be quite bored. Of course, it wasn¡¯t fun so to speak when you¡¯re riding a horse under the cover of darkness with only a lantern to guide her way. That, and the bright moonlight.

    Sleepy? Obviously.

    Sleeping in her tent back at the settlement was uncomfortable. Military sleeping bags were designed to just cover up the dirt and nothing else. Her back almost feels sore. Almost.

    Her mind kept her awake during her ride. She couldn¡¯t stop thinking about how she should approach the Palushians. Questions and doubts swirled in her head, each one gnawing at her resolve. Would they even understand her if she spoke in the imperial language? Would they listen to what she had to say, or would they kill her on sight, seeing her only as a representative of the empire that sought to destroy them?

    The thought worried her deeply. She knew she had the best intentions, wanting to spare them from the oncoming onslaught, but intentions alone wouldn¡¯t protect her¡ªor them. If it had been her tribe under threat, she knew exactly what she would do. She wouldn¡¯t hesitate to abandon any position, no matter how high or secure, to return and fight for her people, to defend their land with everything she had.

    Would the Palushians feel any different? She doubted it. To them, she might just be another enemy, a symbol of the empire¡¯s relentless advance, and that made her mission all the more precarious. She understood their position, perhaps too well, and that understanding was what fueled her anxiety. Would they see her as a potential ally, someone who could offer them a way out? Or would they view her as just another invader to be cast out or cut down?

    Or¡ª

    Her feline ears suddenly twitched, picking up the faint rustling of bushes nearby. The sound snapped her from her thoughts, and she immediately turned to look in the direction it had come from. Her senses heightened, she scanned the dark underbrush, her eyes narrowing to pierce the shadows.

    But there was nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just trees, bushes, and... where had the critter sounds gone?

    The silence was unsettling. The forest, alive with activity just moments ago, now seemed to hold its breath, as if something¡ªsomeone¡ªwas watching her. The only thing that gave her comfort was the soft glow of her lantern, casting its reassuring light around her. Yet even that light seemed feeble against the oppressive darkness that had suddenly enveloped the woods.

    Ries'' hand instinctively tightened around her handgun, the cold metal providing a small measure of reassurance. She had been in enough adventuring quests to recognize the signs¡ªsomething wasn¡¯t right. The forest was too quiet, the air too still. Her ears strained to catch even the faintest sound, but there was only silence, thick and heavy.

    She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Whatever was out there, she needed to stay calm, to think clearly. Had the Palushians come?

    They resorted to guerrilla tactics after the empire pushed them back. Was this an ambush? Or was her mind playing tricks on her, twisting the normal sounds of the night into something more sinister?

    It couldn¡¯t be. She had to stay rational.

    Slowly, she raised her handgun, the barrel gleaming faintly in the dim light of her lantern. If there was someone¡ªor something¡ªout there, the sight of her weapon would act as a deterrent. Or so she hoped.

    A faint rustle, barely audible, reached her ears. It was closer this time, and her muscles tensed in response. She aimed her handgun in the direction of the sound, her finger hovering over the trigger.

    Seconds passed in agonizing stillness. The forest seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something to happen.

    Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the feeling of being watched began to fade. The familiar night sounds slowly returned¡ªcrickets chirped, the wind rustled through the leaves, and the distant call of an owl echoed through the trees.

    Ries didn¡¯t lower her weapon, not yet. She knew better than to let her guard down so easily. But as the moments passed and the forest remained peaceful, she began to wonder if perhaps it had been nothing more than a trick of her imagination.

    ¡®Perhaps the stress is getting into me?¡¯ she thought as she lowered her weapon.

    Still, she couldn¡¯t shake the uneasy feeling in her gut. Something was out there, and whatever it was, it wasn¡¯t friendly.

    She barely had time to register the return of normalcy in the forest before a sharp, stinging sensation pierced through her back. It was sudden, like a flash of lightning, cutting through the false sense of security that had begun to settle in her mind. The sensation quickly morphed into searing pain, and she felt something burrowing deep into her flesh.

    Time seemed to slow down, her senses overwhelmed by the shock. Her mind struggled to process what had just happened, the world around her becoming a blur. The pain intensified, radiating from her back and spreading throughout her body, and then, everything seemed to fade¡ªcolors dimmed, sounds became distant echoes, and her vision darkened at the edges.

    She tried to fight it, to stay conscious, but her body was betraying her, the strength in her limbs draining away. Her handgun slipped from her grasp, hitting the ground with a dull thud. The last thing she saw was the silhouette of trees swaying gently in the breeze, their leaves whispering secrets she could no longer hear.

    And then, everything went black.

    She collapsed, her body crumpling to the ground, the forest once again falling into an eerie silence as the night swallowed her whole.

 Part IX: Blood and Iron, and also magic

    The sun cast a golden glow over the Katzen settlement, bathing the familiar landscape in warmth. Birds chirped, the wind whispered through the trees¡ªit all seemed peaceful. But nothing was ever truly peaceful in the Katzen tribe.

    Ries struggled to her feet, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. She had been knocked to the ground in a duel, and the realization dawned on her¡ªwhy was she here?

    An afterlife, perhaps?

    The thought was unsettling, but she barely had time to consider it before the sound of the cheering crowd filled her ears. The boy she was fighting was grinning, thoroughly enjoying himself. It wasn¡¯t every day that someone got to beat the chieftain¡¯s child in combat over and over again.

    The sting of humiliation burned hotter than the pain in her body. This wasn¡¯t Paluushtag at all¡ªshe was reliving a memory, one from long ago. Ries¡¯ eyes narrowed as she glared at the boy, his grin wide and mocking as he approached her. He didn¡¯t expect her to get up, not after the beating he¡¯d given her. But she wasn¡¯t one to stay down easily.

    If she is to relive her experiences, she won¡¯t let it go to waste.

    With a sudden burst of energy, Ries dashed forward, catching the boy off guard. Her fist slammed into his stomach, the force of the blow sending him stumbling back a couple of meters. The powerful punch was a signature move of the Katzen tribe. The grin disappeared from his face, replaced by a look of surprise and pain. But he didn¡¯t fall¡ªhe¡¯d managed to block just in time.

    The crowd¡¯s cheers grew louder, but Ries barely heard them. Her focus was entirely on her opponent. The memory might have placed her back in this moment, but this time, she wasn¡¯t going to let him have the upper hand.

    She read from somewhere¡ªan obscure theory published by the Imperial Sithica Academy of Arcane Studies. It stated that dreams were nothing more than the creations of the individual, shaped by the dreamer¡¯s thoughts and desires. If that was true, then this memory, this entire scene, was hers to control.

    The boy recovered quickly, his expression darkening as he prepared for another attack. But Ries was more than ready for it.

    As the boy lunged at her, Ries didn¡¯t retreat. Instead, she closed her eyes and felt something in her hand as if materializing it out of nowhere. It was her handgun, the same one given to her by Eden. She raised it without hesitation.

    The boy¡¯s eyes widened in shock, but it was too late. The first shot rang out and he was stopped in his tracks. The second shot followed immediately, ensuring he was as good as dead before he even hit the ground.

    But Ries didn¡¯t stop there. Something inside her, something dark and primal, triggered her to keep firing. Her finger squeezed the trigger again and again, each shot punctuating the eerie silence that had fallen over the crowd. The bullets seemed endless, the gun an extension of her will.

    She continued firing at the boy, the boy¡¯s body was no longer recognizable, reduced to a grotesque mass of flesh and blood, yet her finger refused to release the trigger. What is this feeling? Was it liberation? Joy? She was unleashing years of pent-up frustration, fear, and anger. Each shot was a catharsis, a release of the emotions she had kept bottled up for so long.

    Fear. Anger. Frustration. All the feelings she had buried deep within her were now pouring out with every pull of the trigger. She had spent so long fighting against the world, against herself.

    A weak Katzen, desperate to gain approval from her strict father who threw her away because she was weak. A desperate Katzen who left her own home to gain strength, just so her father could notice her. A mouthpiece of the Empire who forced itself upon her. A child who fought tooth and nail, not just against opponents, but against her own perceived inadequacies.

    With each shot, those memories flooded her mind¡ªthe cold dismissal in her father¡¯s eyes, the whispers of her tribe calling her a failure, the endless struggle to prove herself, to be something more than the ¡°weakling¡± everyone saw. She remembered the loneliness, the constant need to push herself harder, to be stronger, faster, better¡ªbecause anything less was unacceptable. She had buried that pain deep inside, masking it with bravado and a fierce will to survive.

    But here, in this twisted echo of her past, all of that hurt, that anguish, was laid bare. The shots from her handgun were like an exorcism, each one expelling another demon from her soul. Yet with every pull of the trigger, she felt something else stirring within her.

    ¡°Ries! What is the meaning of this?¡± She heard her father¡¯s yell, but without thinking twice, she immediately aimed the handgun at him and pulled the trigger.

    <hr>

    Her eyes shot open, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she bolted upright. Cold sweat clung to her skin, her heart pounding in her chest as the remnants of the dream clung to her mind like a dark cloud. The vividness of it all¡ªthe gunshots, the rage, the final act of pointing her weapon at her own father¡ªfelt terrifyingly real.

    Almost immediately, the pain from the previous night came rushing back. She winced as she tried to move, her muscles stiff and her back throbbing with a deep ache. Tentatively, she reached behind her, her fingers brushing against the rough fabric of makeshift bandages. Someone had patched her up.

    She frowned, trying to recall what had happened after she blacked out, but her memory was hazy, fragmented. The last thing she remembered was the searing pain in her back and the world going dark around her.

    Ries slowly took in her surroundings. The wooden roof above her, the thin wooden walls, and the door covered by a piece of cloth¡ªit was all too familiar. She had seen similar structures during her time occupying the Brahe tribe. The Palushians had captured her.

    Her back ached with the memory of the wound from the night before, but the fact that it had been treated was a curious detail. They could have killed her easily, yet they hadn¡¯t. Perhaps they wanted information, or maybe they recognized something in her that stayed their hand. Whatever the reason, this could be the opportunity she needed to warn them about the coming onslaught.

    Pushing herself to sit up, she winced as the pain shot through her back. The bandages were rough, hastily applied, but effective enough to keep her alive. The room was sparse, with only the bare essentials¡ªa small table, a few mats on the floor, and a single flickering candle.

    The sunlight was shining through an opening on the roof, she guessed it must be morning judging from the cool air still around. That, and the fact that she¡¯s probably in Wilten.

    Just as she was about to stand, the door¡¯s cloth covering rustled, and two Palushians entered the room. They looked at her with curiosity, but not hostility¡ªat least, the woman did. The man wore lightly armored leather, the kind favored by Palushian warriors who relied on speed and agility in battle. The woman, on the other hand, was dressed in a tribal outfit that, while adorned with traditional patterns, still carried a degree of armor for protection.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± the female Palushian asked, her voice gentle but firm. The male crossed his arms, his gaze sharp as he watched her every move, as if daring her to make the wrong one.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Ries managed to replied with a hoarse voice.

    The woman offered a light smile, a hint of relief in her expression. ¡°Glad to hear. My name is Kali, and this is Hali,¡± she introduced, nodding toward her companion.

    Ries studied them both, trying to gauge their intentions. They didn¡¯t seem hostile, but she knew better than to let her guard down. "Why am I here?" she asked cautiously, her eyes flicking between them.

    Hali said something in his native tongue, Kali nodded and translated for him. ¡°Hali shot you with his arrow during his patrol mission.¡±

    The Palushians had patrolled that far from Wilten? Or was it a scouting mission? She had calculated that it would take at least five more hours by horse to reach the Wilten tribe, which meant she was much closer to their territory than she¡¯d anticipated.

    ¡°You were patrolling that far out?¡± Ries questioned, trying to glean more information without directly asking for it.

    Kali nodded. ¡°We¡¯ve expanded our patrols to keep an eye on imperial movements. We can¡¯t afford to be caught off guard.¡± She seemed sad by something, but nonetheless replied. ¡°Ever since our home, the Brahe tribe, fell, we¡¯ve had no choice but to band together at Wilten.¡± She added.

    ¡®Wonder what they would do to me if they knew I was in charge of the occupation there for a while?¡¯

    She forced herself to focus on the present, pushing the troubling memory aside. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for your loss,¡± she said quietly. The destruction of a tribe¡ªany tribe¡ªwas something she couldn¡¯t condone, even if it served the Empire¡¯s interests.

    Hali¡¯s reaction was immediate, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he took a step closer to her. he growled something in a language she didn¡¯t understand, his voice low and filled with anger. She knew anyways he was cussing and cursing her out.

    Ries could feel the tension in the room thickening as Hali¡¯s words, harsh and untranslatable, cut through the air. Though she didn¡¯t understand his language, the venom in his tone was unmistakable. His body was coiled tight, like a spring ready to snap, and she couldn¡¯t shake the sense that he was just looking for a reason to lash out.

    Kali placed a calming hand on Hali¡¯s arm, but the anger in his eyes didn¡¯t dissipate. Instead, it seemed to simmer just beneath the surface, waiting for the slightest provocation. Kali turned back to Ries, her expression softer, but still tinged with wariness.

    ¡°Forgive him,¡± Kali said with a strained voice. ¡°We¡¯ve all lost people we cared about. The Empire has taken so much from us.¡±

    Ries nodded, understanding the deep-seated anger that fueled Hali¡¯s hostility. ¡°I understand,¡± she replied with a low voice. ¡°But I¡¯m here today to end the hostilities between us.¡±

    Hali¡¯s eyes narrowed further, his mistrust deepening. He growled something else in an accusatory manner. Kali hesitated before translating, as if weighing whether or not to share his words.

    ¡°He wants to know,¡± Kali said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, ¡°how many of our people you¡¯ve killed. How many tribes have suffered because of you.¡±

    The truth was, she didn¡¯t know. She had only been deputy minister for a short time, and most of that time had been spent either in meetings or on the field, far from the halls where decisions were made. The paperwork she had seen barely scratched the surface of the Empire¡¯s actions. But that didn¡¯t absolve her of responsibility. She had worn the uniform, carried out orders, and in doing so, she had played a part in the suffering of the Palushians, or many others.

    Noticing her hesitation, Hali yelled something again. He was interrupted by Kali who stepped in between them. ¡°Hali,¡± she said gently, placing a hand on his arm. ¡°Let¡¯s hear her out. If she¡¯s truly here to help, then maybe we can find a way to stop this madness. If not¡­ well, we¡¯ll know what to do.¡±

    Hali looked at Kali, then at Ries. He promptly stormed out and left, leaving Kali to sigh, rubbing her forehead as if trying to ward off an impending headache.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about Hali,¡± Kali said after a moment, her voice tinged with exhaustion. ¡°He¡¯s been through a lot. We all have. The Empire has taken so much from us, and it¡¯s hard to see someone¡ªa Beastmen¡ªwillingly work for them and not feel the weight of everything we¡¯ve lost.¡±

    Ries nodded, understanding the pain and frustration that fueled Hali¡¯s anger. She couldn¡¯t blame him for hating her for seeing her as the enemy. In many ways, she had been, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

    ¡°I don¡¯t expect forgiveness,¡± Ries said quietly, her eyes meeting Kali¡¯s. ¡°I know that what¡¯s been done can¡¯t be undone with a few words. But I want to try to make things right, even if it¡¯s just a small part of it.¡±

    Kali studied her for a long moment, as if searching for any sign of deceit or ulterior motive. Finally, she gave a small nod. ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± she said, echoing her earlier words. ¡°For now, you should rest and recover. We¡¯ll talk more later.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡± Ries murmured. A sudden thought struck her, and she hesitated before asking, ¡°By the way, what time is it?¡±

    Kali glanced out at the opening on the roof before answering. ¡°It¡¯s almost noon, when the sun is at its highest. I don¡¯t know what you imperials call it, though.¡±

    Ries¡¯ stomach dropped. Noon. That was when Jachs had planned to begin the bombardment. Panic surged through her. She had to warn them.

    ¡°Kali, I¡ª¡± Ries began, her voice urgent.

    But before she could finish, the tent¡¯s cloth flapped open, and a tall, imposing Palushian woman entered. She was clad in armor unlike anything Ries had seen before, a mix of tribal designs and reinforced plates that seemed both ceremonial and battle-ready. Her eyes were hard, cold, and without a hint of mercy.

    Ries barely had time to process what was happening before the guards stepped forward, their grips firm as they seized her by the arms. She struggled instinctively, but their strength was undeniable, and they began dragging her out of the tent as her protests fell on deaf ears¡ªif they can even understand her.

    She heard Kali scream something at the woman but she didn¡¯t budge. Outside, the camp was alive with movement. Palushian warriors hurried about, preparing for whatever was to come. But all of that activity seemed distant, irrelevant, as Ries was pulled roughly toward the center of the settlement. Her injury throbbed with each jarring step, but the guards cared little for her pain.

    Ries¡¯ heart pounded as she was forced against a wooden pole, the rough bark digging into her back. Before she could protest or plead, they began tying her to the pole, the ropes biting into her wrists, chest, and legs binding her tightly.

    She glanced down, and her blood ran cold. At her feet, a pile of firewood had been carefully arranged, the meaning of which was unmistakable.

    ¡®Uh oh.¡¯ Ries could tell where this was going and she didn¡¯t like it one bit.

    The Palushians were preparing to burn her alive, likely as a swift act of vengeance. To them, she was a symbol of the Empire, of all the suffering and destruction that had befallen them. Her pleas for peace might have fallen on deaf ears.

    A crowd was beginning to gather, murmuring among themselves, their eyes full of distrust and anger. She caught glimpses of faces twisted with grief, people who had lost everything to the Empire¡¯s advance. To them, she was just another Imperial¡ªone who deserved to burn for her sins.

    Panic surged within her, and she frantically scanned the crowd, her eyes darting from one face to another. She spotted Kali at the edge of the gathering, her expression a mix of frustration and desperation as she argued with the warrior who had ordered Ries'' capture. The woman, likely the chief¡ªor perhaps even the High Queen¡ªstood with an air of authority, her arms crossed as she listened to Kali¡¯s pleas.

    She needed to make them understand¡ªneeded to find a way to communicate the danger that was about to descend upon them. ¡°Kali!¡± Ries called out, her voice trembling but loud enough to cut through the murmurs of the crowd. ¡°You have to listen! There¡¯s no time!¡±

    Kali¡¯s eyes snapped to Ries, and she said something hurriedly to the High Queen before rushing toward her. The chief watched with narrowed eyes, clearly suspicious but could care less about them.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Kali asked with a hushed voice as she leaned in, trying to mask her concern from the others.

    Ries took a deep breath. ¡°The Imperial army is going to initiate bombardment of this tribe. I was sent to negotiate a ceasefire, but they won¡¯t wait. The attack is scheduled to start at noon.¡±

    Kali¡¯s face paled, her eyes widening in shock. She glanced over her shoulder at the High Queen, who were now walking up to them with bo dyguards in tow.

    ¡°If you¡¯re lying¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± Ries interrupted. ¡°Please, we don¡¯t have time to debate this, I don¡¯t want to die.¡±

    The High Queen yanked Kali back, her gaze cutting down at Ries with a mixture of contempt and cold judgment. Standing tall and imposing, she turned her attention to the crowd, her voice rising in a powerful, impassioned speech. Although Ries didn¡¯t understand the words, it was clear what she is conveying. That is, killing her by burning her.

    The jeers grew louder, a wave of hatred crashing over Ries as the High Queen continued her speech, stoking the fires of resentment and rage.

    Ries nervously watched as the High Queen speak on and on until finally, she approaches her with the lit torch, the flames danced menacingly in the wind. The crowd roared in approval fueled with anger and bloodlust.

    This was it. The end. She had come here to stop a war, and instead, she was about to die at the hands of those she had hoped to save. Her heart pounded in her chest as she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the inevitable searing pain as the flames consumed her.

    But then, before the torch could touch the firewood beneath her, the world erupted into chaos.

    An ear-splitting boom shattered the air, the ground trembling beneath the force of an artillery shell detonating nearby. Ries'' eyes flew open in shock as screams of terror replaced the jeers. The crowd that had been baying for her blood scattered in all directions as their anger were quickly replaced by primal fear.

    Another explosion followed, this time even closer, its impact tearing through the settlement with brutal force. Houses crumbled, and the ground where the people had gathered erupted in a shower of dirt and debris. Thankfully, most had fled in time, but the destruction was horrifying.

    The High Queen dropped the torch and ran away presumably to organize a counterattack against the imperials. But Ries¡¯ relief was short-lived. The torch, still lit, rolled across the ground, caught by a sudden gust of wind. It tumbled toward the firewood beneath her, and within moments, the dry kindling began to smolder, small flames licking at the base of the pile.

    Panic surged through Ries as the reality of her situation hit her like a blow to the gut. She frantically wiggled against the ropes, her wrists chafed raw as she struggled to free herself from the pole. Usually this isn¡¯t a big deal for her, as she can untie her easily. Unfortunately for her, she was still reeling from her injuries when she was shot by Hali.

    ¡°Come on, come on,¡± she muttered to herself, her voice trembling with fear. The flames were growing, small at first, but steadily creeping closer, feeding on the wood and rising with the wind. She could feel the heat against her skin, the crackling sound growing louder in her ears.

    Her muscles screamed in protest as she pulled harder against the ropes, trying to twist her wrists just enough to slip free. But her strength was waning, and the ropes held firm, unyielding.

    She glanced around wildly, hoping against hope that someone might come to her aid, but the settlement was in chaos. The Palushians were too busy fleeing the bombardment, or preparing for a counterattack, to notice her plight. She was on her own.

    When all hope seemed lost and Ries began to resign herself to her fate, there was a swift movement behind her. In an instant, the pole behind her cracked with a sharp sound, and the tension in the ropes slackened. She barely had time to register what had happened before her body, weakened and exhausted, began to fall forward. But before she could hit the ground, strong arms caught her.

    Perplexed and disoriented, Ries looked up, trying to make sense of who had come to her rescue. Through the haze of pain and confusion, she focused on the face of her savior.

    It was the black-haired boy, the same one she met on the train to Alyrus. Saitou.

    Why was he here?

    Almost immediately, she felt someone hug her arm from the side. She felt taken aback by it, it wasn¡¯t painful, but it surprised her.

    She looked to her side and found Kali, almost in tears but holding it back with all her might. ¡°Please! Stop this massacre!¡±

    <hr>

    ¡°Target reached.¡± The crackling of the radio sounded like melodies to Jachs¡¯ ear, his eyes were fixed on the horizon where smoke and fire marked the destruction of the Palushian tribe. The mage he stationed high above the sky as a spotter proved his use for directing artillery fire, even more so than just merely enchanting a shell or two.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Thanks to the mages who were able to fly swiftly along the sky, he was able to see that Anise, the deputy minister, had been captured and was about to be burned at a stake with her attempt at diplomacy ending in tragic, If predictable, failure.

    The Palushian tribe was crumbling under the relentless bombardment, trees and hills cannot defend you from the lobbing of artillery shells from above. Brigades of long-range artillery were able to launch around two hundred shells every hour, and he intends to soften the Palushians up before making a move.

    Deep inside, he was pleased. It brought him satisfaction, this was war at its finest, a modern war. Efficient, devastating, and entirely under his control. There was a certain elegance in the precision of it all, a cold, calculating beauty in the way the artillery shells traced their deadly arcs through the sky before landing with earth-shattering force. It was a symphony of destruction, and Jachs was its conductor, guiding every note to perfection as it built towards its inevitable crescendo.

    His musings were abruptly interrupted by an annoying bug. ¡°General, they seem to be collapsing from our bombardment. Shouldn¡¯t we attack now?¡±

    Jachs suppressed a sigh, glancing to his side. He wasn¡¯t the only one responsible for commanding this army, there were other officers, many of them fresh-faced graduates from the military academy. Assigned to serve under him because some higher-ups believed that a ¡°war against uncivilized peoples¡± would be the perfect training ground for young officers.

    It was one of the many decisions from the general staff that he found himself questioning, as if his army had become a daycare for inexperienced young adults. He could see the eagerness in the officer¡¯s eyes, the impatience of youth and inexperience. It was almost amusing, but was most definitely irritating. These young officers, with their ambitions barely concealed, didn¡¯t understand the broader picture.

    ¡°Continue the bombardment for another hour,¡± Jachs answered dismissively. There was no need to rush. Patience was a virtue in war, one that had served him well over the years. He had no intention of risking unnecessary casualties by moving too soon, and certainly not to satisfy the impatience of a green officer.

    The officer hesitated, clearly wanting to argue, but wisely chose to remain silent. Good, he thought. The imperial military prides itself in its discipline and loyalty, at least the academy did teach them something useful.

    The radio came back to life. ¡°General, I see movement,¡± The mage announces. ¡°An army of Palushians, roughly forty thousand if I had to guess.¡±

    Jachs quickly grabbed his binoculars and swept the horizon. Sure enough, out in the plains and coming out from the tree line were tens of thousands of Palushian warriors were charging toward his position with a desperate ferocity. The sight was both awe-inspiring and alarming¡ªa massive wave of bodies surging across the land, their battle cries filling the air.

    Those not charging directly at his forces were firing arrows in coordinated volleys, the sheer number of projectiles momentarily darkening the sky as they arced through the air. The sun itself seemed to dim under the mass of arrows descending upon his troops.

    ¡°Order the troops to take cover!¡± Jachs bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. He pointed to the nearest officer, who immediately relayed the command down the line. The signal went out across the battlefield, a chorus of whistles and shouts as soldiers scrambled to take cover in the trenches scarring the earth in a serpentine fashion.

    Jachs watched as his men moved with the practiced efficiency of a well-trained army, diving into the safety of the trenches just as the first wave of arrows rained down. The sound of arrows thudding into the ground, into the metal artillery, and unfortunately into some of the slower soldiers, filled the air.

    He could see the Palushian forces drawing closer, their momentum undeterred by the barrage of artillery that had softened their defenses earlier. Their sheer numbers were staggering, and their resolve was absolute. This was a full-scale assault. A desperate, all-or-nothing gamble that could only be met with the full might of the Imperial army.

    Jachs had to commend the Palushians for their audacity. Charging head-first into an entrenched army was a tactic that bordered on madness, yet here they were, surging forward with the tenacity of warriors who had nothing left to lose. In most battles, cavalry would be used to break through the enemy¡¯s lines, but the Palushians, with their unmatched agility and ferocity, were the cavalry themselves¡ªmetaphorically, of course.

    He also had to commend their bravery, even as he prepared to crush it. These warriors were charging headlong into a defensive line equipped with thousands of rifles, each one fixed with a bayonet, ready to meet flesh. Several machine gun nests were strategically positioned to create kill zones, and the artillery, now prepared for close support, would soon unleash hell upon them.

    Jachs'' lips curled into a thin, satisfied smile. The Palushians were formidable, but they were not invincible. Their bravery would be their downfall, leading them straight into the teeth of his well-oiled war machine. As much as he respected their resolve, he would show them no mercy. This was war, and in war, only the most ruthless would emerge victorious.

    ¡°Hold the line!¡± Jachs shouted, his voice carrying over the din of the battlefield. ¡°Let them come closer. Wait for my signal.¡±

    His officers relayed the command, and the Imperial soldiers, already in position, tightened their grips on their rifles, their eyes fixed on the approaching enemy. Silently counting down until the moment where all hell breaks loose.

    As the Palushians drew nearer, Jachs raised his hand, poised to give the signal that would unleash the full fury of his army. He waited, letting them come within range, letting them believe that they might actually reach the trenches, before he brought his hand down in a swift, decisive motion.

    ¡°Fire!¡± he commanded, and the battlefield erupted in a deafening roar.

    A hail of bullets tore through the Palushian front line with merciless precision, mowing down the first wave of warriors before they could even react. The roar of gunfire was deafening, drowning out the shouts and cries of the Palushians as they charged headlong into the storm of lead. The machine guns, strategically placed to create overlapping fields of fire, added to the carnage, cutting swaths through the advancing ranks.

    Jachs watched with cold detachment as the Palushians faltered under the onslaught. Their bravery was undeniable, but bravery alone was not enough to overcome the brutal efficiency of modern warfare. They were being torn apart, their bodies crumpling to the ground in heaps, yet still, they pushed forward, driven by sheer desperation and the will to fight to the last.

    "Keep firing!" Jachs commanded, his voice unwavering amidst the chaos. His officers echoed the order, and the Imperial soldiers redoubled their efforts, their rifles spitting fire as they held the line. The trenches had become a wall of death, impenetrable to the Palushian assault.

    But the Palushians, undeterred by the growing number of their fallen comrades, continued their charge. They were getting closer, some even managing to reach the outer defenses, where they clashed with the bayonets of the Imperial soldiers in brutal hand-to-hand combat. The air was thick with the stench of gunpowder and blood, the ground slick with mud and gore.

    Jachs scanned the battlefield, his keen eyes assessing the situation. Despite the heavy losses, the Palushians were not breaking. Their numbers, though thinned, still posed a threat if they managed to breach the trenches. He could not afford to underestimate their resolve.

    ¡°Artillery, prepare for close support!¡± he ordered, knowing that this would be the final blow to break their spirit. The artillery crews, already primed for action, adjusted their aim, targeting the advancing Palushians.

    The ground shook as the first barrage landed among the charging warriors, the explosions sending bodies and debris flying into the air. The devastation was immense, the once-cohesive force of Palushian warriors now scattered and disoriented. Yet, still, they fought on, refusing to surrender.

    He turned to the nearest officer, ¡°Tell the carabiniers to sweep the battlefield. Aim for the archers!¡±

    The officer snapped a quick salute and hurried off to relay the order. Jachs returned his gaze towards the battlefield.

    The battlefield was a maelstrom of blood and chaos as the Palushian warriors clashed with the Imperial soldiers in the outer trenches. Jachs'' frown deepened as he observed the relentless ferocity of the Palushians. Even as their ranks thinned under the withering fire of artillery and rifle volleys, they pressed on, hacking and slashing with a primal intensity that seemed to defy reason. It was clear that they were willing to fight to the last man. They were willing to die for their land, for their people, and that made them all the more dangerous.

    The carabiniers, emerging from the flanks with their sabers held high, provided a much-needed reprieve for the embattled Imperials. Their swift, disciplined charge cut through the Palushian ranks like a blade through flesh, driving a wedge between the warriors and their archers. The carabiniers moved with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine, their horses galloping at full speed as they tore through the disoriented Palushians.

    The tide of the battle seemed to have turned decisively in favor of the Imperials. Jachs watched with satisfaction as the carabiniers tore through the Palushian ranks, scattering their once-cohesive force like leaves in the wind. The Palushians, though fierce and determined, were on the brink of collapse. It was only a matter of time before the last of them fell beneath the relentless advance of the Imperial army.

    But just as Jachs allowed himself a moment of satisfaction, something unexpected caught his eye. A bright, pulsating light began to form in the distance, just beyond the treeline. At first, he thought it might be the reflection of the sun on some metal, but as the light grew more intense, he realized it was something else entirely.

    Wincing against the brightness, Jachs focused his binoculars on the source. Through the haze of smoke and the chaos of battle, he could just make out a figure¡ªno, a woman¡ªstanding at the edge of the forest. Her hands were raised, the light emanating from her staff, and as it spread across the battlefield, something extraordinary began to happen.

    The Palushians, who had been on the verge of defeat, suddenly seemed to regain their strength. Warriors who had been staggering from wounds moments before now stood tall, their injuries healing before Jachs'' very eyes. The deadliness of their assault redoubled, their movements no longer sluggish but filled with renewed vigor.

    Healed¡­

    Jachs'' eyes widened in realization. A healer!

    The woman wore the distinctive robes of the Western Gaia faith where most of its clergy are proficient in healing magic!

    Panic surged through him. If she wasn''t stopped, all the progress they had made would be undone in an instant. Grabbing the radio with urgency, Jachs barked into it, ¡°I need all mages to eliminate that healer immediately! Focus your fire on the woman in the treeline¡ªnow!¡±

    The response was immediate. The Imperial mages¡ªa whopping three of them, stationed at various points behind the front lines, began to channel their magic. The air hummed with energy as they gathered their power, the crackle of arcane forces mingling with the sounds of battle.

    Jachs watched as the first volley of spells arced through the sky, brilliant streaks of energy homing in on the healer''s position. Lightning bolts, fireballs, and shadowy blasts tore through the air, aimed directly at the woman whose light was now a beacon of hope for the Palushians.

    But as the spells closed in, the healer raised her hands higher, and a shimmering barrier of light erupted around her. The magical attacks slammed into the barrier, causing it to ripple and flare, but it held firm. The healer remained unscathed, her light undimmed.

    "Keep firing!" Jachs snarled, refusing to accept that this woman could single-handedly turn the battle against him. He could see the desperation in his soldiers'' eyes as they struggled against the revitalized Palushians. If this healer wasn''t stopped, the battle would become a bloodbath, and not in his favor.

    And he didn¡¯t like losing.

    ¡°Order the artillery¡ªall of them¡ªon that woman! NOW!¡± he barked into the radio, his voice laced with a cold fury that brooked no argument.

    The response was immediate. The artillery crews, who had been focusing their fire on the main body of the Palushian forces, began to redirect their aim. Massive cannons and the experimental howitzers groaned as they swiveled towards the lone figure at the treeline. It was overkill, perhaps, to direct so much firepower at a single target, but Jachs wasn¡¯t taking any chances.

    The ground rumbled as the first artillery shells were launched, their trajectories arcing high into the sky before descending with deadly precision toward the healer. Explosions rocked the earth, each one a thunderous roar that sent plumes of dirt, smoke, and debris into the air. The area around the healer was engulfed in a maelstrom of fire and shrapnel, a relentless barrage meant to obliterate anything in its path.

    Jachs watched intently, his heart pounding in his chest as the bombardment continued. Surely no one, not even a mage of such power, could withstand such an assault. The noise was deafening, the force of the explosions sending shockwaves across the battlefield that could be felt even in the trenches where his soldiers huddled for cover.

    As the smoke began to clear, Jachs strained to see the results of the onslaught. His eyes narrowed as he peered through the thick haze, searching for any sign that the healer had been completely obliterated.

    For a moment, there was nothing. Just the smoldering remains of trees and the churned-up earth where the artillery had struck. But then, to his disbelief, a faint light began to shine through the smoke, growing stronger with each passing second.

    The healer was still standing.

    The barrier of light surrounding her had dimmed, flickering like a candle in a strong wind, but it had held. Beside the woman there were now a man wearing an absurd cacophony of a mercenary attire holding up his sword, a Beastmen just like the deputy minister¡ªthough Jachs had to admit the deputy minister were much more good looking¡ªand an Elf. And Elf! This far out?!

    Jachs¡¯ frustration boiled over into rage. This wasn¡¯t just a setback, this was a humiliation. His artillery, his mages, all the power at his disposal, and still she stood.

    He broke the binocular with his fist tightening in anger, a rare display of emotion from the usually composed general. ¡°Get the snipers in position!¡± he barked at his nearest officer. ¡°If magic and artillery can¡¯t bring her down, then I want a bullet through her skull! And prepare for an all-out assault¡ªwe''re finishing this here and now.¡±

    As the officer rushed to carry out his orders, Jachs cursed his luck under his breath. Why in the hell was a Western mage all the way out here, and of all things, helping the Beastmen?

    His army was not equipped for arcane warfare. They were trained for conventional battles¡ªrifles, bayonets, artillery. Against a healer of this caliber, one who could withstand a bombardment that would have leveled a city, he knew his forces were at a disadvantage.

    He had seen what a single high-level mage can do on their own in battle, even against a superior army. There was a reason the Empire developed a new doctrine specifically to counter them¡ªa doctrine that relied on mages of their own. However, he only had three mages under his command, and that was nowhere near enough to deal with this kind of power.

    Fine. If that¡¯s what they want, then so be it.

    He hadn¡¯t ordered the storm troopers to start the assault yet, but as he watched the reinvigorated Palushians making steady gains through the trenches, he realized the situation was becoming more critical by the minute. The Palushians were pushing his forces to the brink, if they manage to break through completely, the consequences would be disastrous.

    The storm troopers, mimicking the Valkorians, was a battalion of highly trained soldiers, designed to break through enemy lines with brutal efficiency. They were trained for exactly this type of close-quarters, high-stakes combat, using concussions and shock tactics to disorient their enemies before striking them down with ruthless precision. Creeping artillery barrages would lead their way.

    He grabbed his radio and spoke into it. "Deploy the storm troopers," Jachs commanded. "Exterminate them. Leave none to chance."

    Within moments, the storm troopers began to move. As they approached the front lines, the storm troopers lobbed concussion grenades into the midst of the Palushians. Explosions erupted, not with the fiery destruction of artillery shells, but with a bone-rattling force that sent shockwaves through the air. The Palushians staggered, their formation breaking as they were thrown off balance.

    And then the storm troopers struck. With bayonets fixed, they charged into the fray, cutting down the disoriented warriors with a ruthless efficiency that left no room for mercy. The Palushians, already battered by the relentless artillery and rifle fire, now faced a new terror, one that moved too fast, hit too hard, and showed no signs of stopping.

    Jachs watched as his storm troopers began to turn the tide, driving the Palushians back inch by bloody inch. But his gaze kept drifting back to the healer, the woman who had somehow managed to defy everything he had thrown at her. She was the key to this entire battle, and until she was neutralized, nothing was certain.

    His thoughts were interrupted by a report from one of the officers. "The snipers are in position, sir,"

    Jachs nodded and contacted the three mages under his command. ¡°Listen carefully, I need all of you to converge on that healer. Now,¡± he paused to look back at the healer. ¡°You¡¯re going to engage the healer directly. Hit her with everything you¡¯ve got, but don¡¯t expect to take her down. Your job is to keep her busy, make her use all her power to defend herself. I¡¯ll take care of the rest.¡±

    He ended the transmission and turned to his officers, who were waiting for further orders. ¡°Get the artillery ready for another round. Once the mages engage, I want you to hit that healer with everything we¡¯ve got left. Snipers will take the shot as soon as she¡¯s exposed, and for the love of Reyvrys if you want to see your families do your job right!¡±

    The officers saluted and rushed to carry out his orders. Jachs returned his gaze to the battlefield, this battle had turned into a personal vendetta. He would not allow one woman, no matter how powerful, to humiliate him and his army.

    They would be crushed here and then, once and for all.

    Jachs stood on the precipice of victory, his every move was a carefully calculated step in the symphony of destruction he had orchestrated. He was the conductor of this performance, guiding his army toward its inevitable crescendo. The battlefield was his stage, the soldiers his instruments, and the Palushians¡ªalong with their defiant healer and her guards¡ªhis unwilling audience.

    The mages began their advance, their hands crackling with arcane energy as they prepared to engage the healer directly. The artillery crews were in position, the cannons loaded and ready for another devastating barrage. The cavalry prepared another assault.

    That barrier WILL break, one way or another. Her guards beside her won¡¯t and cannot do anything that will stop him. The Palushians would be crushed, their healer neutralized, and Jachs would emerge victorious. As always.

    His fingers tightening around the radio. The healer¡¯s barrier had held against everything he¡¯d thrown at her, but he was confident that it was weakening, fraying at the edges under the relentless pressure of his assault. Her guards, the motley crew of a mercenary, a Beastman, and an Elf, stood defiantly by her side, but they were nothing more than obstacles to be swept aside.

    He brought the radio to his lips, his voice low but clear, each word a commandment etched in steel.

    "FIRE!"

    The battlefield erupted in a deafening roar as the artilleries unleashed their fury, the sky darkened with smoke and the earth trembled beneath the onslaught. The mages, their spells already in motion, hurled wave after wave of arcane energy at the healer¡¯s barrier, each impact a hammer blow against the light that had defied them for so long.

    Jachs'' forces had launched a full-scale assault with the combined might of artillery, mages, and storm troopers alongside infantry working in unison. The air was thick with the acrid stench of gunpowder and the searing heat of magic, the once pristine landscape now a hellscape of craters and smoldering debris.

    The storm troopers cut through the Palushians like a scythe through tall grass. Their precision and relentless advance demoralized the already battered Palushian forces, who found themselves being driven back, their tenacity slowly waning in the face of overwhelming force. The regular infantry, emboldened by the storm troopers'' success, surged forward with renewed vigor, reclaiming the trenches that had briefly fallen into enemy hands. It was a brutal push, every inch of ground gained was stained with blood, but they were regaining control, pushing the Palushians further into disarray.

    High above the relentless tide of destruction, the mages were preparing for another round of arcane assault. Manifesting their energy as they began to swoop down and deal another devastating blow to the barrier.

    Yet the healer remained at the center of it all, her barrier flickering like a candle in a storm, but still holding. The light was dimmer now, the once impenetrable shield showing signs of strain under the relentless assault.

    Mages, by their very nature, were masters of manipulating the mana that flowed unseen through the world. They could bend reality to their will, manifesting the arcane from the ethereal currents of magic that surrounded them.

    But this woman¡­ her resilience was something beyond comprehension. The power she commanded to maintain such a barrier for so long, even under such intense pressure, was unlike anything Jachs had ever seen.

    And then, through the haze of battle, Jachs saw something¡ªor rather, someone¡ªthrough his binoculars. Amidst the chaos, cutting through the smoke and fire, was a rider galloping at full speed toward his position. The figure was unmistakable, even from a distance. It was the deputy minister, Anise, her wild mane of hair flowing behind her as she rode, a white cloth tied to a stick held high in one hand.

    A flag of truce.

    Jachs¡¯ eyes narrowed, then to surprise, then to disbelieve. He had forgotten all about her!

    The realization hit him like a sledgehammer. In the midst of this chaotic battlefield, with artillery thundering and spells flying, she had somehow slipped from his mind. And now, here she was, charging toward him with a flag of truce in hand. It was absurd. The Carabiniers came to escort her.

    Why was she here now, of all times? What did she hope to achieve by riding into the heart of a battle that was still very much undecided? He knew she was unpredictable, fierce, and driven by a sense of justice that sometimes bordered on reckless, but this?

    Jachs raised a hand, signaling his officers to hold fire. The artillery fell silent, the mages held their spells, and the storm troopers paused in their relentless advance. For a moment, the battlefield was eerily quiet, the only sound the pounding of Anise¡¯s horse¡¯s hooves against the earth as she galloped toward him.

    He took a deep breath and straightened his uniform. After all, her authority supersedes his.

    As Ries finally reached him, pulling her horse to a stop just a few feet away, Jachs met her gaze, her determined gaze. She was here, in the middle of a war, a Palushian riding with her, and with a white flag in hand suddenly appearing from enemy lines.

    And she had his attention.

    She dismounted the horse, and approached Jachs face-to-face. Her uniform was disheveled as if she hurriedly wore them, or as if she didn¡¯t have the time to properly wear them. There was visible dry blood in her uniform.

    ¡°General,¡± she began with a firm voice. ¡°The enemy has agreed to an unconditional surrender. I order you to cease your fire and help the wounded on both sides.¡±

    Jachs narrowed his eyes, his pride pricked by her commanding tone. ¡°I command this army, Madame Deputy Minister. You are a civilian minister who has¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do not confuse your rank with my authority, General. I am the representative of Her Majesty the Empress, the extension of her will. You will obey, in the name of Her Majesty.¡±

    For a long moment, Jachs stared at her with a complicated expression. The rage that had driven him moments ago still simmered beneath the surface, but he knew there was no arguing with the weight of the crown. Begrudgingly, he swallowed his pride.

    With a deep breath, he unclenched his fists and gave a curt nod. ¡°Very well, Madame Deputy Minister,¡± he said, his voice tight with barely concealed frustration. ¡°I will comply with your orders.¡±

    He turned to his officers, who were standing by. ¡°Cease fire,¡± he commanded, ¡°tend to the wounded, and prepare to receive the enemy¡¯s surrender.¡±

    The officers saluted and quickly moved to carry out his orders, relaying the commands down the line. The storm troopers and the regular infantry, who had been poised for the final assault, lowered their weapons, the mages allowed their spells to dissipate, and the artillery crews stood down, their cannons falling silent.

    <hr>

    It was nearly sundown, yet the soldiers are still picking up dead bodies from both side as they cordon of the battlefield for a full cleanup.

    Ries watched them from on top of the mound where the command tent is located, medical tents are being set up nearby to tend to the injured.

    She had never seen herself as a miracle worker, but when Kali, had come to her, begging for an end to the slaughter, Ries had faced a decision she hadn¡¯t anticipated. Certainly, riding into the thick of battle on horseback and risk getting exploded by an artillery shell wasn¡¯t the brightest idea she had in mind.

    But for the thousandth time, she was tired. And whatever works, works.

    Then there was the issue of the ¡®Hero¡¯s party¡¯. In which Saitou and his companions were apart of. The healer, who was Asumi, her power were nearly spent and her spirit nearly broken. It surprised her that she was the one who volunteered to do all of those things herself.

    For a price, of course. They would help her and in turn she would lead them to meet the Empress. Even though she doesn¡¯t really know how to do that.

    A young officer approached her, saluting before he spoke. ¡°Madame, the General requests your presence.¡±

    Ries nodded, taking one last drag from her cigar before snuffing it out. She glanced down at her uniform, still disheveled and stained with dried blood, and made a half-hearted attempt to straighten her clothes, knowing that appearances hardly mattered now.

    With a sigh, she followed the officer into the command tent, where General Jachs and Kali were already waiting along with other witnesses, such as the record keeper and the Hero¡¯s party. This was the moment of surrender¡ªthe official end to the Palushian resistance. Jachs, representing the military, stood stiff and formal as if it was business as usual. Kali, on the other hand, looked weary and resigned, her shoulders slumped under the burden of defeat.

    She was told by her that she is the chieftain¡¯s and the High Queen¡¯s daughter, and therefore, after their deaths, she was the one responsible for all of her kind.

    Her father and the High Queen for all she knew could be dead and piled on top of bodies in the battle field from before. Who knows?

    Ries took her place in the middle of the table, representing the civilian government as well as the TAC, her presence there to ensure that the terms of surrender would be honored.

    The table between them held the documents of surrender, plain and final in their simplicity. This was no negotiation, no carefully worded treaty¡ªthis was the unconditional surrender of a people who had fought valiantly but had been overpowered by a force too great to resist.

    Kali¡¯s hand trembled slightly as she reached for the pen. The weight of what she was about to do bore down on her like the sky itself. This signature would mark the end of her people¡¯s resistance, the surrender of their spirit to an empire that had overwhelmed them with sheer force.

    The future of her race was uncertain, would the empire enslave them? She heard stories about slavery in the empire. Would their tribes be erased, their culture destroyed?

    She isn¡¯t even doing this out of the tribe¡¯s consensus. This decision, this surrender, was hers alone, a desperate attempt to stop the bloodshed, to save what was left of her people.

    Taking a deep breath, she braced herself, her fingers tightening around the pen. She hovered it over the paper, and for a long moment, she stared at the document, the words blurring as tears welled in her eyes.

    And then, with a shaky exhale, she signed her name.

    And so, with the stroke of a pen, the war was over. But for those who had fought and those who had fallen, the scars would remain long after the ink had dried.

    Ries meanwhile, exhaled a sigh of relief. She was looking forward to go back home and have a rest. It¡¯s been chaotic, and she hasn¡¯t even been paid yet.

 Part X: The House of Cards

    What is money?

    To an ordinary citizen, it is a tangible thing¡ªa medium of exchange, a means to acquire goods, services, or security. Its value is rooted in something concrete, a real-world material, something that can be touched or weighed, often derived from precious metals like gold or silver, which have been valued since time immemorial.

    But to the intellectual, money is an abstraction¡ªa symbol of trust, a representation of labor, a measure of wealth. It is not merely a coin or a note, but a concept that reflects the stability of an empire, the health of an economy, and the confidence of the people. Money is the lifeblood of commerce, the force that drives innovation and ambition, yet it is also a tool of control, a means by which power is exercised and maintained.

    Money, in its purest form, is a promise. A promise that the nation will honor its debts, that trade will continue to flow, and that prosperity will be shared among those who have earned it. But it is also a weapon, one that can be wielded to subjugate or liberate, to build or destroy.

    For Ries, money is simple. A tool of luxury. A means to an end.

    A thousand golden Virs a month was something nearly unreachable for even the wealthiest merchants in their lifetime. Their earnings were tied to the fickle nature of commerce, fluctuating with the tides of profit and loss, their hard-earned wealth chipped away by taxes, expenses, and the relentless demands of business.

    But for Ries, that same thousand Golden Virs was hers on the first day of every month, handed to her effortlessly by virtue of her title. She didn''t need to understand the complexities of government, didn''t need to strategize or toil¡ªwell¡­ yes there was that one time¡­

    But regardless! with just a nod, a signature, and the wealth was hers. And yet, it all meant nothing if she couldn¡¯t access it.

    In the train ride back to Valyra, Ries had been racking her brain, trying to figure out how to withdraw her money using her assumed identity as Deputy Minister Anise.

    Which, she finally settled on a plan. A simple plan, really.

    ¡°Miss, I¡¯ll need to see your bank ID,¡± the teller on the opposite side of the table said in a monotone voice, barely looking up from his paperwork.

    ¡°Ah, right. Of course, how could I forget?¡± Ries forced a sheepish smile, quickly producing her Government ID card. The words ¡®Anise, Deputy Minister of Home Affairs¡¯ were emblazoned on it, the title alone carrying enough weight to silence most questions.

    One thing she learned on her first day of the job was how much she knew little of the empire she lived in. Sure, she never cared about it in the past¡ªlike, why would a low-ranked adventurer want to know about government and politics? Moreover, why should she, a Beastman, bother learning about the ways of her oppressors? It¡¯s not her place to do that.

    Another thing she learned is how expansive the bureaucracy is, more than she could even imagine. Everything¡ªif she were to base her theory on when she infiltrated, so to speak, the Central Registry Office¡ªis recorded, written down, and stored. The government has information on virtually every of its citizens.

    The teller scrutinized the ID for a moment, then glanced up at Ries with a skeptical eyebrow raised. ¡°Deputy Minister, you say?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Ries replied, forcing herself to meet his gaze with as much confidence as she could muster. ¡°I¡¯ve had a long journey and I¡¯m in need of funds.¡±

    The teller looked back and forth from her card to her face. For a moment, Ries wondered if her disguise would be enough. Then, with a nod, the teller handed the ID back to her. ¡°Very well, Deputy Minister. How much would you like to withdraw?¡±

    ¡°Two and a half thousand golden Virs.¡±

    The teller nodded, writing down the transaction in a large ledger before heading to the back to prepare her withdrawal. When he returned, he handed Ries a neat stack of yellow-gold paper notes. "Here you are, Deputy Minister. Two and a half thousand Golden Virs."

    Ries took the notes, her fingers brushing against the crisp paper. Strange texture, she thought, what material did they make this paper with? Regardless, this was it¡ªthe fruits of her charade, the means to ensure her survival in this unforgiving empire. She tucked the notes away in her coat, thanked the teller with a nod, and turned to leave the bank.

    As she walked away from the counter, she couldn''t help but silently exhaled a sigh of relief. She had been lucky. The teller hadn¡¯t inquired further, hadn¡¯t asked for an ACC card or the bank ID itself. Sooner or later, she would have to track down the real Anise and figure out what to do from there. This deception was a temporary shield, not a permanent solution.

    The other option was figure out how to change her ACC into Anise¡¯s ACC, thereby committing identity theft.

    The security guards at the entrance opened the wide doors of the bank for her, and as she stepped outside, she was immediately hit by an overwhelming stench. Ries winced, the foul odor assaulting her senses. It was a pungent mix of human urine, burnt wood, and rotting trash, all mingling together in the humid air.

    Jachs hadn¡¯t been exaggerating when he said the capital smelled like shite. The sight before her only confirmed his words¡ªgarbage littered the streets, with piles of refuse left unattended in corners and alleyways. Government clean-up crews were working overtime, desperately trying to clear the mess, but it was a losing battle against the sheer volume of waste.

    Ries sighed, pulling her coat tighter around herself as she began to walk down the street. The grand capital city, a symbol of imperial power and prestige, now looked and smelled like a decaying carcass.

    The countless protests, raging day and night, had taken their toll on the city. Even if the authorities managed to keep the unrest under control, they couldn¡¯t suppress man¡¯s nature to vandalize and trash everything in the name of ¡®justice.¡¯ Buildings bore the scars of firebombs and graffiti, while statues that once stood proud were defaced.

    The people though, they walked the streets as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Weaving through the debris and sidestepping the beggars that lined the sidewalks. There were protests, liberal demands for change, but for most, life carried on.

    Ries was in the heart of downtown Valyra, where towering highrises loomed above the bustling streets. People moved in a constant flow, some on foot, others on trams that clattered down the tracks. Horse-drawn carriages and a few rare automobiles¡ªluxuries that only the wealthy could afford¡ªadded to the chaotic mix of urban city life.

    She just hoped that General Jachs could end the hostilities between the empire and the remaining Palushians to reach a peaceful conclusion, as he was appointed as the temporary head of the occupation government.

    Lost in her thoughts, Ries didn¡¯t notice the figure approaching from behind until she was suddenly grabbed in a hug, nearly causing her to lose her balance.

    ¡°Hey!¡± The rather high-pitched voice of a girl travelled to her ears. It was a voice of someone she appreciated not hearing. Unfortunately, she was apart of the Hero¡¯s party, to which she owed a promise to.

    Regaining her footing, Ries shot an irritated glare at the girl, crossing her arms in annoyance. ¡°Ms. Blackwood, I would appreciate it if you didn¡¯t jump on my back as a way of greeting.¡±

    The girl simply grinned, unbothered by Ries¡¯ tone. Behind her, the rest of the Hero¡¯s party strolled leisurely through the city, oh and Kali. Despite the capital¡¯s dismal state, they seemed to be enjoying themselves, taking in the sights with a curiosity that only newcomers could muster. It was clear that nothing in the western cities could compare to the size and development level of Valyra, even in its current condition.

    It was an odd bunch, Ries reiterated. Three humans, a feline Beastman, an elf, and now a Palushian.

    From their story, Saitou and Asumi, the two humans she met on the train to Alyrus, was not actually a human of this world. They were summoned by the western church as a desperate last attempt to stave off the demon invasion, possessing powers beyond imaginable. This explains how Asumi, is able to hold off the relentless assault of Jachs¡¯ army, something that still frustrated the general to no end.

    The feline Beastmen was named Carla. Who for some reason refuses to talk to her, despite their ¡°shared¡± heritage of being Beastmen. Saitou had mentioned that Carla was originally a slave and harbored a deep hatred for humans¡ªa hatred that seemed to exclude Saitou and Asumi, for reasons that Ries couldn¡¯t quite understand. Perhaps it was because they too, were outsiders in this world, sharing a bond that transcended the typical animosities.

    The elf, Elwyn, appeared to be the smartest of the bunch. She spoke few words and rarely interacted with Ries, maintaining a certain distance.

    Then there was Elise Blackwood, a noble from the west, and an annoying girl. Apparently, her family controlled a major business over in the west, but how did that matter here?

    ¡°Saitou, you better keep an eye on this girl before she gives some poor soul a heart attack,¡± Ries muttered, glaring at the grinning Hero.

    ¡°Haha, sorry about her. She¡¯s just... energetic,¡± Saitou chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. ¡°By the way, you look amazing in that suit. I still can¡¯t believe you¡¯re someone important.¡±

    Well I couldn¡¯t believe it myself.

    ¡°Where are you heading?¡± she asked, trying to divert the conversation as she glanced at the rest of his party.

    ¡°Oh, right,¡± Saitou replied, as if suddenly remembering something. ¡°You mentioned taking us to meet the Empress, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Ries winced inwardly. She did recall making that offer, but the reality of arranging an audience with the Empress Just like that is practically impossible. Especially for someone like her, who was barely holding onto a borrowed identity. They kept insisting on the urgency, speaking of a "common cause to defeat the demon invasion," as if that alone would open palace doors.

    ¡°Right¡­ yeah, I did say that, didn¡¯t I?¡± She replied slowly, buying herself a moment to think. Her mind scrambled for an excuse, something to stall for time or, better yet, to wriggle out of the promise altogether.

    Elwyn, the quiet elf, observed her with a keen gaze, as if sensing her hesitation. Meanwhile, Carla was still aloof, not sparing her a glance. Elise, on the other hand, seemed entirely unconcerned, already distracted by something shiny in a nearby shop window.

    ¡®Sometimes,¡¯ She thought bitterly. ¡®I wished I was just a lowly Beastmen who knew nothing about the wider world. Life was simpler then.¡¯

    ¡°Look, getting an audience with the Empress isn¡¯t exactly easy,¡± Ries sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°It¡¯s not like you can just walk up to the palace and ask for a meeting. There are protocols, security checks, and a lot of bureaucracy. Have you tried to go to the foreign ministry office?¡±

    This time, it was Saitou who sighed.

    ¡°We did. But they didn¡¯t get back to us.¡± Asumi was the one who replied, her face looked annoyed at the ministry. ¡°Can¡¯t you arrange the meeting? You are Minister, after all.¡±

    In name only. She thought but bit back the words. ¡°Deputy,¡± She highlighted. ¡°I¡¯m not a minister, I only help around the ministry and get a fat paycheck. Even if I could get you in front of her, what makes you think she¡¯ll drop everything to help with your¡­ demon problem?¡±

    Elwyn finally spoke with a voice that bordered on soft, and¡­ calming. ¡°Because the demon invasion threatens more than just the west. If left unchecked, it will spread, consuming everything in its path, including this empire. The Empress must understand that the fate of her people is tied to the fate of all nations.¡±

    Ries stared at her. Even so, the empire is more interested in itself rather than the world at large. From the basic history she learnt, the empire would in a heartbeat let the west collapse from a demon invasion if it meant settling old scores.

    She was about to speak up when Elisse cut her. ¡°Yeah! The empire is a greedy self-serving, and selfish country!¡±

    Ries paused, taken aback by the bluntness of Elise''s statement. It was as if the girl had read her mind. The empire¡¯s reputation, especially among those from the west, was far from stellar. But even so, hearing it so plainly stated made Ries feel a twinge of discomfort. She wasn¡¯t exactly loyal to the empire, but her position¡ªfake as it was¡ªrequired some level of decorum.

    ¡°Elise, you don¡¯t just go around saying things like that,¡± Saitou scolded, though there was no real heat in his voice. He was used to her outbursts by now. It was weird seeing the two act when they are possibly the same age.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s true!¡± Elise pouted, crossing her arms defiantly. ¡°They¡¯re not going to help unless it benefits them directly. And by the time they realize the demons are a threat to them, it¡¯ll be too late.¡±

    Ries looked between them, Elise wasn¡¯t wrong, but the reality was more complicated. The empire¡¯s bureaucracy was a monstrous machine, slow to act but terrifyingly efficient once set in motion. If the Empress saw the demon invasion as a direct threat, she would mobilize every resource at her disposal. But convincing her of that was the problem.

    That would be the only problem¡­ if it weren¡¯t for the ongoing political upheaval and popular discontent between both the common citizenry and the aristocracy against the crown.

    Deep in thought, Ries hadn''t realized they had arrived at the wide boulevard that connected the imperial palace with the sprawling government complex. The towering buildings cast long shadows over the cobblestone street, and the bustle of officials, soldiers, and civilians moving to and from, barely registered in her mind. This was where decisions were made, where lives were changed with the stroke of a pen or the whisper of an order.

    Seeing the government complex ahead, Ries saw an opportunity to escape the conversation. She turned to the group, offering them a small, apologetic smile. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do, but no promises,¡± she said. ¡°I have to go to work.¡± She gestured to the imposing complex beside them.

    Saitou frowned but nodded in understanding. "We''ll be waiting. Just¡­ don¡¯t forget what''s at stake."

    Ries nodded in return, but before going, she handed each of them a hundred golden Virs. ¡°Here, use this to do whatever. Consider it an act of kindness.¡±

    Elise''s eyes widened as she took the crisp paper bills, her initial excitement turning into puzzled curiosity. "Whoa!¡ªuhm¡­ why is it paper? Is this really money?" She stretched the bill between her fingers, examining it like a strange artifact.

    Ries suppressed a smirk. "Yes, it¡¯s really money. That¡¯s how we do things here in the empire. Paper¡¯s easier to carry than a pouch full of coins."

    Elise nodded slowly, still unconvinced but willing to accept the explanation. Saitou, meanwhile, slipped the bills into his pocket with a silent, appreciative nod. The rest of the group followed suit, though their expressions varied from amusement to mild disbelief.

    ¡°Alright, then. I¡¯ll be going to work. Let¡¯s meet up after sundown, I know a nice caf¨¦ near here.¡± Ries waved at them as she turned to leave, with her tail swishing.

    As she walked away, Ries couldn''t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction at being back in the capital, even if its familiar, unpleasant smell still clung to the air. At least the stench didn¡¯t reach the boulevard, which was a small blessing.

    The thought of returning to the endless stream of paperwork crossed her mind, but instead of dreading it, she found herself oddly looking forward to it¡ªnot because the work was enjoyable, but because she could delegate the most tedious tasks to her subordinates. The idea of lazing around all day while others handled the bureaucracy brought a sly smile to her lips.

    Even in the midst of political turmoil and a city teeming with tension, Ries found comfort in the little things. The chance to escape into a pile of paperwork and the promise of a quiet evening at a cozy caf¨¦. For now, that was enough.

    <hr>

    ¡°What do you mean by knighted?¡± Ries blurted out, her thoughts spilling over in shock as she stared at the easy-going Minister Eden, who sat casually behind his desk.

    She had barely settled in at her own desk, her feline ears and tail twitching in satisfaction, when she was suddenly summoned to the minister¡¯s office without explanation. Her first thought was that her cover had been blown, but to her surprise, the situation was far different from what she had imagined, an entirely different box of surprises.

    ¡°As I said, knighted. Well, the correct term is awarded¡ªawarded medals for your contribution in the Palushian war,¡± Eden replied nonchalantly, pouring himself a glass of wine. He raised the bottle in her direction, offering her a drink, but continued before she could respond. ¡°General Jachs approached me about your efforts, so naturally, I approached the Empress. Which means, tomorrow at noon, you will become a noble¡ªknight, technically. Without land, but a noble nonetheless.¡±

    Ries felt her heart skip a beat.

    A noble? Her? The words hung in the air, almost unreal. She had spent her life as an adventurer, a warrior, a Beastman. The idea of becoming a noble, even without land, was something she had never considered. It felt alien, almost like a trap.

    How could a Beastman be a noble in a human empire? The very thought was absurd, a contradiction to everything she had experienced growing up in a world where her kind was often looked down upon.

    ¡°But¡­ why?¡± she finally managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper, still trying to grasp the reality of what she was hearing. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything special!¡±

    Eden smiled faintly, as if he¡¯d been expecting that response. With a casual air, he pulled out a document from under his desk and scanned it briefly. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ you¡¯ll receive the Medal of the Imperial Crown, the Order of Valerys, and the Order of the Crimson Dragon. For being wounded in battle, for chivalry, and for bravery, respectively.¡±

    He slid the document across the desk toward her, the list of honors staring back at her in black ink. The words seemed to blur as Ries tried to process it all. Medals and orders meant for warriors and heroes were being bestowed upon her.

    ¡°But I didn¡¯t¡ª¡± she started, only to be cut off by Eden.

    ¡°This is a good thing,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ll an extra vote on the motion tomorrow. I would be lying if I don¡¯t want you to be a noble. The empire rewards its loyal subjects, you see.¡±

    He stood up and approached her, resting a hand on her shoulder in what was meant to be a reassuring gesture. ¡°These are civilian decorations, so don¡¯t fret too much about it. Ryman will guide you through the process, so to speak. I have other matters to attend to.¡±

    With that, Eden turned and left the room, leaving Ries alone with her thoughts. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and the silence that followed was deafening. Ries remained motionless, her body frozen and her mouth slightly agape as she tried to comprehend everything that had just happened.

    ¡°But I didn¡¯t even do anything?!¡± She finally exclaims as she turned at the door. It as too late though, Eden is probably already on the first floor by now.

    Ries leaned on the desk, trying to think straight. What just happened? Obviously, she was to be knighted and her status lifted into that of minor nobility, but was there something bigger at play?

    The Empress couldn¡¯t just give away titles and awards, right? There must be something that motivated her, or someone else pulling the strings. She couldn¡¯t be sure.

    Governor Unteryl¡¯s words echoed in her mind, everyone has their agenda, always lying to each other, always scheming...

    Right! Information is power! Unfortunately, she was blind to the gossip and news of the upper society. Though her position felt like a position of power, she couldn¡¯t help but feel like a pawn in someone else¡¯s game.

    She glanced at the grandfather clock ticking silently in the corner of the room. 9 a.m. There was still time to think this through, to strategize, and maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªshe could learn what she had so far avoided, politics.

    For once, Ries realized that ignorance was not a luxury she could afford. The world of the empire¡¯s upper echelons was a treacherous sea, filled with currents she didn¡¯t yet understand. But she had spent her life navigating dangerous waters herself, facing death even. This would be no different. She needed to understand the motivations behind this sudden elevation, to uncover who stood to gain from her rise in status.

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    But where to start?

    The central government was a nest of vipers, each with their own schemes and alliances. She couldn¡¯t just walk in and start asking questions¡ªshe would be swallowed whole. No, she needed to be subtle, to gather information without drawing attention to herself.

    No one should expect some curious lowly Beastmen to begin to asking questions, right? She¡¯s just a lowly power here.

    Perhaps she should start with the minister of justice, Ryman? He seems nice enough to give her a run-down¡­ on second thought, nice isn¡¯t really something to describe Ryman, isn¡¯t it?

    He was a minister that much is certain, deeply involved in the legal and political machinery of the empire. If she could get him talking about the recent events and what he thinks about them, she might be able to pick up on the subtleties of what was really going on. Perhaps a few well-placed questions about her new status, framed as innocent curiosity, could lead to valuable insights.

    But if Ryman wasn¡¯t the right choice, then who? Ries could also try to gather information from the lower ranks of the government. The empire¡¯s enormous bureaucracy has legions of warriors on their own, clerks and secretaries who saw and heard everything but were often overlooked by those in power. People like them might be more willing to talk, especially if they didn¡¯t see her as a threat.

    The more she thought about it, the more she realized how unprepared she was for this new role. She had always relied on her own strength, her instincts, her ability to fight her way out of any situation, she was more accustomed to fighting alone. But this was different. Here, she would have to rely on her wits, on her ability to navigate the tangled web of politics without getting caught.

    Her tail and ears twitched as she made a decision. The next few hours would be crucial. She would gather as much information as she could, piece together the puzzle, and figure out how to turn this situation to her advantage¡ªor at least, ensure that she wasn¡¯t being used as a pawn.

    It¡¯s not like politics is that hard, right? You only need to talk when you need to talk, and listen when you need to listen. That was the theory, anyway.

    Ries had survived countless battles by trusting her instincts, and she would have to do the same here, even if the battlefield was now made of words and secrets instead of swords and shields, err, guns and artillery.

    She hurriedly left Eden¡¯s office and went into her own, where Clarissa, her assistant, was busy doing paperwork.

    ¡°Clarissa, clear my schedule for today.¡±

    Clarissa looked up from her paperwork, blinking in surprise at the sudden command. Her pen paused mid-stroke as she quickly assessed the situation. "Clear your schedule, ma''am?" she asked, a hint of confusion in her voice. It wasn''t like Ries to cancel her duties on a whim, normally she¡¯d wail on her desk and complain about her job.

    ¡°Yes, clear it,¡± Ries confirmed, her tone leaving no room for argument. Her tail swishing as she began to pace the room. ¡°I have some¡­ important matters to attend to.¡±

    Clarissa nodded, immediately setting to work. "Of course, Deputy Minister. Should I inform anyone of your absence or just postpone your meetings?"

    ¡®I have meetings?¡¯

    "Just postpone them," Ries replied quickly. The last thing she needed was anyone getting suspicious of her sudden change in plans. "And Clarissa¡ª"

    Clarissa looked up again, waiting for her next instruction.

    "¡ªif anyone asks, just say I¡¯m handling an urgent matter. No details."

    ¡°Understood, ma''am,¡± Clarissa replied, her voice steady. She returned to her work, her expression betraying nothing, though Ries could sense her curiosity.

    ¡°Excellent, I¡¯ll inform you when I come back.¡±

    <hr>

    Finding Ryman wasn¡¯t difficult. The Minister of Justice was known for holing himself up in his office, a place as imposing and distant as the man himself. His office was a short distance from the Home Affairs Ministry building, and though a dedicated tram ran through the sprawling government complex, Ries opted to walk. The fresh air and the rhythm of her steps might help clear her mind, she reasoned. Even in the midst of aa black smog in the distance, presumably from the industrial district. Plus, she could use the time to collect her thoughts.

    The empire really does like its trams, she mused, as one of the sleek, electric carriages whizzed past. The government complex was vast, a series of interconnected buildings that housed all the empire¡¯s ministerial offices and a host of lesser administrative agencies. It was a testament to the empire¡¯s bureaucratic might, a city within a city where decisions were made that shaped the lives of millions.

    She couldn¡¯t help but notice the calm, almost serene atmosphere of the complex. The neatly trimmed lawns, the well-maintained gardens, and the marble statues of past emperors and statesmen all spoke of power and order.

    Her mind drifted to Ryman. During their first meeting, he had struck her as someone who valued order above all else, a man who wielded the law like a weapon and spoke bluntly, with little regard for pleasantries. Moreover, he has a connection to Eden, so he should be willing to lend an advice or two.

    She rounded a corner and finally spotted the building where Ryman¡¯s office was located. The justice ministry building was as ornate as any other in the government complex. The grand entrance was flanked by marble columns, and above it, the symbol of the ministry¡ªscales of justice balanced perfectly, along with a dragon circling it¡ªwas rendered in gold that gleamed in the sunlight.

    Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the heavy wooden doors and entered the grand foyer. The interior was just as imposing as the exterior, with high ceilings, polished marble floors, and portraits of former ministers lining the walls.

    She approached the receptionist, who looked up from her desk with a practiced smile. "Good afternoon, Deputy Minister.¡± The receptionist greeted her, noticing her pin on her lapel. ¡°How may I assist you today?¡±

    "Good afternoon," Ries replied. "I''m here to see Minister Ryman. I have an urgent matter to discuss with him."

    The receptionist nodded with a polite, yet unreadable expression. "Of course. One moment, please." She picked up the phone, her fingers moving swiftly over the buttons as she spoke in a low voice. After a brief exchange, she looked up at Ries. "Minister Ryman is available. I¡¯ll escort you to his office."

    Ries followed the receptionist down a long, elegantly decorated corridor. The silence was broken only by the soft click of their footsteps on the polished floor, accompanied by the distant murmur of other ministry employees going about their duties.

    They soon arrived at a pair of large, dark wooden doors. The receptionist knocked lightly, then pushed them open, gesturing for Ries to enter. "Minister Ryman will see you now."

    Ries stepped into the office, her eyes immediately drawn to the man seated behind a massive oak desk. The room was lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, and a large window behind Ryman allowed sunlight to filter in, casting long shadows across the room.

    ¡°Ah, Deputy Minister,¡± Ryman said, looking up from the documents spread across his desk. His voice was smooth, carrying an authority born of experience. He gestured toward a plush sofa near the window. ¡°Please, make yourself at home.¡±

    Ries nodded and made her way and sat down on the sofa, sinking deep into it. She couldn¡¯t help but feel luxurious when sitting in the sofa.

    As she sat down, she noticed Ryman watching her closely. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he asked with a polite tone, but with an undercurrent of curiosity.

    Ries met his gaze, her ears twitching slightly as she gathered her thoughts. "Minister Ryman, I find myself in a position that I did not anticipate," she began, choosing her words carefully. "My recent elevation in status has raised some questions¡ªquestions I believe you might be able to help me understand."

    Ryman leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he considered her words. "Ah, yes. The sudden rise of the Deputy Minister of Home Affairs into nobility¡­ It has certainly been the subject of some...discussion." His eyes narrowed at her feline ears, then her tail. "And what exactly is it that you wish to understand, Deputy Minister?"

    ¡°I wish to know¡­ what goes on beyond the political sphere,¡± she said. ¡°I am suddenly being elevated into a title of nobility and with the current state of affairs, I want to know why.¡±

    Ryman exhaled a loud sigh as he rubbed his temples. ¡°Ah¡­ that Eden¡­¡± He looked back at her with a half-serious look. ¡°How should I explain this¡­ hold on a second.¡±

    He stood up and walked to a nearby bookshelf, then grabbed something and sat down on a sofa opposite to her. It was poker cards, and the minister, without saying a single word, started to stack them up in a pyramid shape.

    Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ryman finished his pyramid. He leaned back, regarding his creation with a satisfied expression before turning his gaze back to Ries.

    "Politics, Deputy Minister, is much like this pyramid," he began. "Every card represents a person, a family, a faction, or an interest. They are all interconnected, balanced delicately, supporting one another. Remove one, and the whole structure may collapse. Add another, and it might tip the balance in unforeseen ways."

    Ryman grabbed a small pebble from a nearby potted plant and flicked it at the pyramid of cards. The structure collapsed in an instant, scattering the cards across the table. He watched the disarray for a moment before turning his gaze back to Ries.

    Ries furrowed her brow, trying to grasp the metaphor. "And what does that have to do with my sudden elevation?"

    Ryman crossed his arms. "Your rise in status is not an isolated event. It¡¯s another card being added to the structure¡ªcarefully placed by someone who understands the impact it will have. But the question you must ask yourself is this. What role are you meant to play in this structure? Are you here to support, to strengthen, or perhaps to destabilize?" He let the question hang in the air, his eyes never leaving hers, watching for any sign of understanding or realization.

    After a minute, he spoke back up. ¡°Surely, you know who put you in there.¡±

    Ries¡¯ eyes locked with Ryman, and she nodded in recognition. ¡°Eden¡­¡±

    Ryman gave a small, approving nod. ¡°Precisely. Eden is no fool. Captain Eden, Earl Eden, Minister Eden, Henry Eden¡­¡± He paused as if something bitter entered his mouth. ¡°Every move he makes is calculated. But his motives... well, that¡¯s easy to understand, no?¡± He let out a small chuckle. ¡°The vote to restore the premiership. He wants all votes by any means necessary.¡±

    Ries nodded. ¡°And how significant is this premiership? It¡¯s important for nobles, right?¡±

    ¡°Not just important,¡± Ryman shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s a position that symbolizes the aristocracy¡¯s clinging influence in an empire that is increasingly centralized under the hand of the Empress. To us nobles, it¡¯s the last bastion of our traditional power, a means to exert influence over imperial policy, to remind the Empress and the people that the aristocracy still matters.¡±

    ¡°And why should I, if I am to become a noble, vote for the resolution?¡± This time, it was Ries who crossed her arms. While it was unexpected for her to become nobility, she couldn¡¯t just change a new leaf fitting of her identity. She still resents those in power and surrounded by wealth.

    Ryman¡¯s eyes narrowed, his voice growing sharper. ¡°The truth is, Deputy Minister, you¡¯re a pawn in a game that¡¯s been played long before you arrived on the scene. Eden is powerful, but he¡¯s not invincible. He knows that, which is why he goes to great length to ensure the pieces don¡¯t fall.¡±

    Eden¡­ Ries couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of unease. Every time she met Eden, he always had a warm, grandfatherly smile on his face, as if she were some beloved grandchild. But the governor¡¯s words had planted a seed of doubt. Was there something more lurking beneath that genial exterior?

    Ries shifted uncomfortably. ¡°So I¡¯m just supposed to go along with it? To become what he wants me to be, all for the sake of his ambitions?¡±

    ¡°Not necessarily,¡± Ryman replied, leaning forward. ¡°You have a unique opportunity. Yes, you¡¯re being used, but that doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t use this situation to your own advantage. You can choose how you play your role in this ¡®pyramid.¡¯ Will you be a silent supporter, a loyal enforcer, or something else entirely?¡±

    Ries arched an eyebrow, skepticism coloring her words. ¡°And what if I refuse to play at all? Why are you telling me this, anyway? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be Eden¡¯s loyal second-in-command?¡±

    A wry smile tugged at the corner of Ryman¡¯s mouth as he leaned back in his chair. ¡°Is that how you see it? Damn¡­ I¡¯ve fallen far,¡± he muttered, almost to himself. With a sigh, he stood up, reached under his desk, and pulled out a bottle of vodka. He set it on the table between them and poured himself a shot, the clear liquid glinting in the dim light.

    Unusual for the minister who always smoked every time she sees him.

    Ryman knocked back the shot in one smooth motion before setting the glass down with a sharp clink. His gaze locked onto Ries, his expression dead serious. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be here if he didn¡¯t have me by the balls.¡±

    Ries¡¯ ears twitched at the bluntness of his admission. ¡°You¡¯re trapped too, then?¡±

    Ryman¡¯s laughter was bitter, devoid of any real mirth. ¡°Trapped? That¡¯s putting it mildly. Eden has leverage on everyone he works with. That¡¯s how he stays in control. But don¡¯t mistake me for a helpless puppet.¡±

    Ries studied him, the hardened lines on his face, the weight behind his words. For the first time, she saw Ryman not as a rude, brash figure, but as someone who had been forced into a corner, much like herself.

    A cornered fox.

    ¡°What do you suggest I do?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Play the role Eden expects of you, but don¡¯t lose sight of your own goals. You¡¯re not alone in this. There are others opposed, who aren¡¯t content to just play their parts. If you¡¯re smart, you¡¯ll find them.¡±

    ¡°And when I do?¡±

    ¡°Then you start building your own game,¡± Ryman said. ¡°Eden might control the board, but even he can¡¯t see every move coming. Use your position, make and use your connections to carve out your own space. And when the time is right, you¡¯ll know what to do.¡±

    Ryman poured another shot of glass for both of them. He raised one. ¡°To us.¡±

    Ries slowly took her shot of glass and clinked it with Ryman¡¯s. ¡°To¡­ Us¡±

    <hr>

    Formalities were such a complex and unnecessary thing. Preparations for her award ceremony included being stuffed into a tight dress uniform in the distinct imperial burgundy, complete with gold epaulettes, braids, lanyards, and lampasses. The uniform was a far cry from the practical attire Ries was used to. It was heavy, restrictive, and designed more for appearance than function.

    She had spent the entirety of the next day putting on this ridiculous uniform for the ceremony. Something she found not enjoyable at all.

    She tugged at the stiff collar, feeling the fabric dig into her neck. The uniform was immaculate, tailored to fit her perfectly. The gold accents gleamed under the light compared to the rougher, simpler suit she was accustomed to. Everything about it screamed pomp and circumstance, the kind of decorum that she found suffocating.

    ¡°This is ridiculous,¡± she muttered under her breath, adjusting the heavy epaulettes that hung from her shoulders. The lanyards looped across her chest, a symbol of rank and status felt more like chains than decoration.

    ¡°You look wonderful, Anise!¡± Came a cheerful voice from behind her. It was Asumi, who had been helping her decorate the uniform alongside an official imperial tailor.

    Ries snorted. ¡°I look like a peacock.¡±

    As she stood before the mirror, Ries couldn¡¯t help but feel like an imposter. The reflection staring back at her was that of a decorated officer, a noble in the making, yet all she could see was a former adventurer, someone who had always lived on the fringes of society, never truly fitting into the world of the powerful and privileged.

    Asumi chuckled. ¡°Maybe, but you¡¯re a very distinguished peacock.¡±

    Ries shook her head, trying to dismiss the unease gnawing at her. ¡°Where¡¯s Saitou and the others, anyway?¡± she asked, shifting the conversation away from herself as she turned to face Asumi.

    ¡°They¡¯re heading back to the western kingdom. We received an emergency letter from the Pope requesting our immediate return,¡± Asumi explained.

    ¡°Why are you here, then?¡±

    Asumi¡¯s smile remained gentle, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. ¡°The injuries I sustained while healing the Palushians and creating that shield took a toll on me. The doctors said my mana reserves might be damaged, and they advised me not to use magic for the time being.¡±

    Ries turned away from the mirror, her expression softening as she regarded Asumi. ¡°I see¡­ I¡¯m sorry you had to go through that. And now you¡¯re stuck here with me.¡±

    There was a knock on the door, and Ryman stepped in, he put up a poker face, but likely impress by her appearance. ¡°You look¡­ distinguished,¡± he said. ¡°Bear with it, it¡¯s just for the ceremony, after that you could change back to your usual attire.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t wait,¡± Ries grumbled, giving the mirror one last disdainful glance. The ceremony, an elaborate affair to present her with an award for her ¡°services to the Empire,¡± felt more like a spectacle designed to parade her in front of the aristocracy. It was a reminder of her new role, her new identity, and the expectations that came with it.

    But as much as she loathed the idea of being on display, she knew she couldn¡¯t refuse. This was part of the game, part of the role she had to play. Ryman¡¯s words echoed in her mind, ¡°Use your position, make and use your connections to carve out your own space.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with,¡± she said, turning away from the mirror.

    Just as she steeled herself for what lay ahead, Ryman¡¯s voice cut through the air. ¡°Sorry, but there¡¯s been a change of plans.¡±

    Ries froze, her mind struggling to process the sudden announcement. She glanced at Asumi, who looked just as caught off guard.

    ¡°What do you mean by a change of plans?¡± Ries asked, a hint of irritation creeping into her tone. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me I put on this ridiculous outfit for nothing!¡±

    Ryman didn¡¯t flinch at her reaction, his demeanor as composed as ever. ¡°The Empress decided to postpone the ceremony until after the National Assembly¡¯s decision on the resolution. She believes it¡¯s more prudent to wait until the political climate is clearer.¡±

    Ries clenched her fists, her initial frustration morphing into a mix of relief and annoyance. Relief that she wouldn¡¯t have to endure the ceremony just yet, but annoyance at the unpredictability of it all. ¡°So all of this preparation was for nothing?¡± she grumbled, tugging at the stiff collar that had been bothering her since the moment she put it on.

    Ryman¡¯s expression remained unreadable as he delivered the next piece of news. ¡°Also, Eden has called for the vote to begin immediately.¡±

    Ries blinked, taken aback. ¡°What? I can¡¯t vote on it, right? I¡¯m not a noble yet, so why bother telling me?¡±

    ¡°True, you don¡¯t have a vote. I¡¯m just telling you this before I go to the National Assembly to cast my vote.¡±

    Ries felt a surge of frustration. ¡°So I¡¯m just supposed to sit here, dressed up like this, while they make decisions without me?¡±

    Ryman shrugged and turned to leave. ¡°I suppose. You could get out of that outfit, though.¡±

    Ries watched him go, a wave of irritation washing over her. She glanced at herself in the mirror again, the elaborate uniform that had felt like a cage moments ago now seemed even more ridiculous. With a sigh, she began undoing the buttons.

    ¡°Help me get out of this outfit, Asumi¡­¡±

    Asumi nodded and moved to assist, carefully undoing the ornate lanyards and loosening the stiff fabric. As the weight of the uniform began to fall away, Ries couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of being a pawn in a game much larger than herself. The relief she felt as the heavy garment was removed only heightened her awareness of how trapped she truly was.

    But Ryman¡¯s parting words echoed in her mind: "You could get out of that outfit."

    Perhaps he meant more than just the uniform.

    <hr>

    The inconsequential noises of nobles crowded together in the ornate and gothic chamber of the National Assembly felt like distant static to Earl Eden. From his vantage point on the balcony, he observed the gathered aristocrats below, each adorned in their finest, each playing their role in the grand, elaborate dance of politics.

    But for today, they are all playing his game on his terms. The vote is nearing.

    The chandeliers overhead cast a dim, flickering light that reflected off the polished surfaces and gilded edges of the room, creating an atmosphere of subdued opulence. Conversations buzzed around him, a cacophony of hushed voices, barely restrained ambitions, and the occasional forced laughter. Yet, Eden remained detached, his mind miles away from the sycophantic exchanges and whispered deals taking place below.

    He reached for the bottle of wine on the table beside him, its deep red contents glowing faintly in the low light. With practiced ease, he poured the rich liquid into his glass, humming a tune as he did so. The melody was soft, almost lost in the ambient noise of the chamber, but it brought a small, knowing smile to his lips.

    As he sipped the wine, his gaze remained fixed on the assembly. The vote was nearing, and with it, the culmination of months of subtle influence, whispered promises, and carefully placed threats. Eden had orchestrated this moment with the precision of a master conductor, and now, as the final notes of the overture approached, he could feel the tension building in the room.

    He knew that, in the end, the vote would go as he intended. The nobles might believe they were acting of their own accord, but each had been nudged, ever so gently, toward the outcome he desired.

    The Premiership would be restored, and before long, he would obtain the position of Prime Minister himself. Before anyone could react.

    Eden took another sip of his wine, savoring the taste as the Speaker called for silence. The murmurs in the room died down, replaced by an expectant hush as the moment of decision arrived.

    ¡°The resolution is now open for vote,¡± the Speaker¡¯s voice echoed through the chamber.

    Eden¡¯s smile widened slightly as he leaned back in his chair, content to watch the final act of his carefully crafted play unfold. ¡°I suppose I shall cast my vote as well.¡±

    He set his glass of wine on the small table beside him, rising from his seat and descended on the staircase from the balcony.

    As Eden reached the floor, he moved toward his designated seat with the same composed demeanor, his presence commanding the attention of those around him. The nobles who had been whispering among themselves fell silent as he approached.

    He took his seat, his smile never leaving his face, the rich fabric of his tailored coat settling perfectly as he leaned back, surveying the assembly with a detached gaze.

    The Speaker¡¯s voice rang out once more, calling for the vote to begin.

    ¡°By show of hands, those in favor of the resolution, signify now.¡±

    Hands began to rise, some more hesitantly than others, but the outcome was clear. One by one, the hands went up, sealing the fate of the resolution and the return of the Premiership.

    Eden himself closed his eyes as he raised his hands. Confident that he would hear the resolution passing.

    The Speaker tallied the votes with a steady hand, counting each raised arm with the precision of a man whose mind had not dulled with age, despite the frailty of his body.

    "The resolution is rejected by two hundred and fifty nays. According to the laws set by the Charter of Union, a super-majority of three hundred and sixty-three votes out of five hundred and fifty has not been reached!"

    Eden''s confidence shattered in an instant, the confident smile he had worn moments before faltering into a look of shock. His eyes snapped open, disbelief flooding his features as the reality of the situation sank in. Two hundred and fifty nays¡ªfar fewer than he had expected to oppose the resolution, but just enough to deny him the super-majority needed to secure the restoration of the Premiership.

    The chamber, once filled with the rising hands of assent, was now a sea of uncertainty. The nobles, who had so confidently cast their votes, were exchanging nervous glances. Whispers began to circulate, the whispers turned into loud discussions.

    Eden¡¯s hand, still raised in what had been an expression of assured victory, now hung in the air like a relic of a battle lost. Slowly, he lowered it, the realization that his plan had faltered gnawing at the edges of his carefully composed exterior.

    He could feel his eye twitch slightly as he clenched his fist.

    The Speaker¡¯s calm and deliberate voice, echoed in the silence that had fallen over the assembly as a matter-of-factly. ¡°The resolution has been rejected by two hundred and fifty nays. The required super-majority of three hundred and sixty-three votes has not been achieved. The Premiership will not be restored.¡±

    Eden forced his expression to remain neutral, his once genial demeanor now frozen into a mask of impassivity. Despite the turmoil brewing within him, he knew he could not afford to show weakness¡ªnot here, not now.

    The room buzzed with the sudden shift in atmosphere, the nobility unsettled by the unexpected turn of events, with some even beginning to talk about something completely unrelated.

    Eden, however, remained in his seat, as he assessed the situation. This was not how things were supposed to go. Years of planning, of carefully orchestrated alliances and subtle manipulations, had all led to this moment. And now, with a single announcement, it had all come undone.

    He took a slow, measured breath, forcing himself to remain calm. There had to be a way to salvage this. The Premiership might have slipped through his fingers for now, but that didn¡¯t mean his influence was lost. There were still moves to be made, pieces to shift on the board.

    But first, he needed to understand how this had happened. Eden¡¯s eyes scanned the room, searching for the faces of those who had opposed him. His mind churned, calculating who among the nobility had shifted their allegiance at the last moment¡ªand more importantly, why.

    He crossed his arms and looked to his right. The ministers of Justice, Health, Transport, Education, and Agriculture sat there, their faces a mix of shock and confusion. He then looked to his left, where the ministers of Military Affairs, Foreign Affairs, Public Works, Information, Economy, and Arcane Arts were seated. They too seemed equally stunned by the outcome. But Eden knew better than to take things at face value. Appearances could be deceiving.

    And then there was Duke Alaryc¡¯s faction. Eden¡¯s thoughts zeroed in on them. Anise was supposed to have convinced them. He had been assured of their support¡ªso what had gone wrong? Had Anise failed, or was there something more sinister at play? His eyes narrowed as the pieces began to come together in his mind, forming a picture he did not like at the slightest.

    Unless¡­ Had someone outmaneuvered him?

    Perhaps someone had betrayed him in the last moment. He hadn¡¯t bothered to watch the hands rise during the vote, confident in his victory. That confidence now felt like a grievous error. Who among them had shifted allegiance at the last moment? And why? The thought of betrayal simmered in his mind, not because it was unexpected, but because it had caught him off guard.

    Betrayal was man¡¯s nature, a sin Eden was well-acquainted with, even if he¡¯d commit it himself without hesitation. But to be on the receiving end of it, was an affront he could not tolerate. Someone had dared to cross him, and they would pay dearly for it.

    The plan would change into a more direct approach.

    He would find the traitor¡ªall of them¡ªand root out the cause of this failure. No one would be spared, no matter how deeply they had concealed their treachery.

    Eden¡¯s gaze swept across the chamber once more, but this time it was not with the eyes of a tactician savoring his victory, but those of a predator assessing his prey. His grip tightened around the armrest of his chair as he mentally recalibrated his strategy.

    His time would come again, as it always had for more than fifty years. A minor setback such as this wouldn¡¯t hinder him, he had weathered far greater storms. But this time, the betrayal stung deeper, and the miscalculation was more personal.

    Next time, there would be no subtlety, no careful orchestration over months or years.

    The gloves would come off, and the full weight of his power would be brought to bear in a single, overwhelming move.

    All at once.

 Part XI: The Man In The High Castle

    "Look at them," Henry Eden thought, his eyes narrowing as he observed the gathering from across the room. The aristocrats, draped in their finery, moved gracefully across the polished floors, their laughter and smiles as empty as the promises they so easily dispensed. "Dancing away blissfully as if the recent failure was nothing to them. They ignore my pleas to preserve the tradition of our nation, turning away from the very roots that made us strong, denied their nation a revival. This society is built on fake words, lies, and meaningless moral charades."

    His gaze sharpened as he watched a nobleman approach another with a wide, toothy grin¡ªan expression Eden knew all too well was nothing more than a mask. "Just by looking at them, you recognize the lies they are about to tell you, the nice compliments they are about to throw at you like arrows. And when you move away from their presence, turning your back, their faces morph into disgust. Their tongues, venomous as they are, will vomit out their true thoughts to others."

    Eden''s fingers tightened around the glass he held, a subtle tremor betraying the force of his grip. "Sickness. A remarkable society of sickness," he mused, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

    "Oh, how I wish I could carve a big smile on the faces of the ones who fake it," he imagined, the thought of bringing these pretenders to their knees igniting a fire within him. "Transform all their calculated thoughts into madness, make them spill tears of regret, anger, and forgiveness. Make them beg for all the evil they''ve done, all the ignorance, all the mistakes, every little wrong move they made. But I am one of them. I know my place."

    His eyes flickered toward a group of nobles who quickly averted their gaze, pretending not to notice him. He could see the fear in their eyes, the unease that his presence brought. "They fear me, you see? They keep their distance, you see? They recognize the greater monster in the room, you see? A wolf in a flock of sheep kept inside the pen known as this empire."

    A thin smile played on Henry Eden''s lips, hidden as he took another sip of his drink. But as his gaze wandered through the opulent hall, it settled on a figure that commanded his attention¡ªa man he knew all too well. The Minister of Justice, Viscount Ryman, was dressed in a gray long coat that gave him an air of stern authority. Ryman stood amidst a group of nobles, speaking with enthusiasm, his voice carrying just enough for Eden to catch snippets of his words.

    Ryman was a man who understood power, Eden thought. Perhaps better than anyone else in the room¡ªother than him, but his methods were as cold and unforgiving as the law he wielded like a weapon.

    "But the law isn¡¯t going to help you," Eden spoke silently with a quiet satisfaction. "Not when I have you on a leash by virtue of your past... indiscretions." Ryman''s tendencies as a womanizer and hedonist were well-known to those who paid attention. The man had fathered more than twenty illegitimate children, scattered across the empire, none of whom he cared for or acknowledged. "Isn¡¯t that fascinating?" Eden mused.

    Eden swept his gaze towards the magnificent pile of food on the center table. Cakes, desserts, fruits, meat, and drinks of all types.

    ¡°Did you know that you could trigger a heart attack just by inserting a few drops of digitalis extract into one¡¯s drink?¡± Eden pondered as he took another sip of his own. The thought was not new to him. Digitalis, a potent and deadly poison, derived from the foxglove plant, was notorious for its ability to induce fatal cardiac arrhythmias with just a tiny dose.

    He swirled the liquid in his glass, watching the ripples with an almost hypnotic focus, when a sudden commotion drew his attention back to the room. His eyes flicked toward Viscount Ryman, who had gone deathly pale, his hand clutching at his chest.

    Ryman staggered, his breath coming in desperate, ragged gasps. The group of nobles around him recoiled in horror, their laughter turning to gasps of alarm as Ryman¡¯s body convulsed. He spasmed violently, dropping to his knees before collapsing onto the marble floor, his body writhing uncontrollably.

    ¡°Now you know.¡±

    Eden watched for a moment as Ryman''s once powerful form contorted on the ground, Eden set his glass on a nearby table, the sound of the glass touching the surface lost in the chaos.

    Without a word, he turned and exited the ballroom, leaving the panicked shouts and desperate cries behind him.

    <hr>

    The monotony and the distinct smell of the hospital never ceased to amaze Ries. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavily in the air, mingling with the faint odors of medicinal herbs and the metallic tang of blood. Despite the sheer number of workers bustling about and the endless stream of patients filling the corridors, the place maintained an almost eerie quiet. The silence was such that Ries could hear the rhythmic beating of her own heart.

    Her feline ears twitching at the faintest sound¡ªa hushed conversation between nurses, the rustle of paper as a doctor flipped through a chart, the distant hum of machinery.

    Ries had never grown accustomed to it. The quiet, the smell, the cold, impersonal efficiency of the place, it all grated against her instincts, sharpening her awareness, keeping her on edge. Hospitals were places of healing, of recovery, but they were also places of death, where the weak succumbed to the inevitable, and the strong clung to whatever hope they could muster.

    Her steps slowed as she approached a familiar door. With a deep breath she knocks. ¡°Minister Ryman, it¡¯s me.¡±

    For a moment, there was no response, just the muffled beeping of machines from within the room. Finally, a faint, raspy voice answered.

    ¡°Enter,¡± came the reply.

    Ries pushed the door open and stepped inside, her eyes immediately falling on the figure in the bed. Minister Ryman lay propped up against a stack of pillows, yet he kept his stern gaze. An ashtray sat beside him, a half-smoked cigarette smoldering within it, the acrid scent of tobacco mixing with the sterile smell of the hospital.

    She closed the door gently behind her, the click of the latch echoing in the quiet room. ¡°Minister,¡± she greeted, nodding lightly as she approached the bed.

    Ryman¡¯s eyes tracked her movements, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of recognition in his gaze. ¡°Ries,¡± he rasped, his voice rough but laced with the same authority he¡¯d always carried. ¡°You¡¯ve come to see the old wolf in his den?¡±

    Ries offered a faint smile, though it didn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°I wanted to see how you were doing,¡± she replied, her tone careful. ¡°And¡­ we have some matters to discuss.¡±

    Ryman¡¯s lips curled into a faint, sardonic smile. ¡°Matters, yes,¡± he murmured, his gaze drifting to the cigarette. ¡°There¡¯s always something to discuss, isn¡¯t there? Even when you¡¯re on death¡¯s doorstep.¡± He let out a weak, bitter chuckle before taking a shaky drag from the cigarette, his hand trembling slightly as he brought it to his lips.

    ¡°What happened? I heard you got a heart attack during a ball.¡±

    Ryman¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly at her question, the cigarette pausing midway to his lips. He studied her for a moment, before he exhaled a plume of smoke, letting it dissipate into the air before he spoke.

    ¡°What happened?¡± he echoed. ¡°A damned ball full of preening vultures, that¡¯s what happened. The kind of event where everyone¡¯s dressed in their finest, but underneath, they¡¯re all waiting for the slightest sign of weakness to pounce on.¡±

    Ries nodded, immediately grasping the implications. ¡°You were poisoned, then?¡± Her finger moved thoughtfully to her chin.

    ¡°Yes, poisoned. Subtle, effective¡ªjust enough to make it look like an unfortunate event, a mere heart attack brought on by stress or age.¡± He took another drag of his cigarette.

    Ries hesitated for a moment before voicing the question that had been lingering in her mind. ¡°Was it Eden?¡±

    Ryman¡¯s expression darkened if slightly amused in his eyes as he shook his head. ¡°No. Eden wouldn¡¯t dare to do something so¡­ extravagant. He¡¯s many things, but he¡¯s not a fool. If he wanted me dead, he¡¯d do it in a way that left no trace, no suspicion. This was someone else¡¯s handiwork¡ªsomeone who wanted to send a message, someone who enjoys the theatrics.¡±

    Ries frowned, her mind churning with the possibilities. ¡°But who would have the nerve to do something like this, and at a ball of all places?¡± The list of people capable of such a bold move was short, and Eden seemed the most obvious culprit. Yet Ryman was convinced otherwise, and that puzzled her.

    She studied him closely, searching for any sign that he might be hiding something. ¡°Why do you think Eden wouldn¡¯t be the one behind this?¡±

    Ryman took a slow, deliberate drag from his cigarette, his gaze distant as he exhaled. ¡°Because¡­ because I still have my uses for him. I occupy the position of Minister of Justice. I have the power to strike down laws in the name of Her Majesty, and for him.¡± He paused and puts off his cigarette on the ashtray.

    ¡°Eden knows that as long as I¡¯m in this position, I¡¯m a valuable tool. He¡¯s too strategic to waste me in such a reckless manner. Besides, if he wanted me gone, it would be clean, efficient, and above all, quiet. This¡ª¡± he gestured vaguely, indicating his current condition, ¡°¡ªthis is not his style. Someone else wanted to make a statement, to show their hand.¡±

    ¡°Is that so¡­¡± Ries mulled over his words. ¡°Do you have any idea who it was, then?¡±

    ¡°The Minister of Public Works, Viviana Livingstone,¡± he grumbled, her name spoken with disdain. ¡°She¡¯s been seething ever since I struck down her absurd proposal.¡±

    ¡°Which was?¡±

    ¡°Something about a ¡®minimum wage¡¯ and ¡®welfare¡¯¡­¡± Ryman¡¯s voice dripped with disdain as he trailed off, the contempt clear in his tone. ¡°It was a ridiculous proposal, one that would have drained the treasury for the sake of pandering to the masses. Livingstone¡¯s been bitter ever since I struck it down.¡±

    Ries arched an eyebrow. ¡°So, you think she¡¯s capable of something like this? Poisoning you at a public event?¡±

    ¡°She has the audacity, that¡¯s for certain. That woman is far too prideful, too arrogant, too convinced of her own righteousness. She couldn¡¯t stand the thought of someone like me standing in her way, thwarting her grand visions of a ¡®better society.¡¯¡±

    Ries crossed her arms, skepticism etched on her face. ¡°But to poison you in such a public setting? It¡¯s a dangerous move, even for someone desperate. She¡¯d be risking everything if she got caught.¡± She met Ryman¡¯s gaze, her eyes narrowing. ¡°Are you absolutely sure it¡¯s not Eden?¡±

    ¡°I am one hundred percent sure, Deputy Minister,¡± Ryman firmly replied. ¡°Eden still finds me useful. Viviana doesn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Really? Are you really¡ª¡±

    ¡°Again, if he wanted me gone, it would be done in a way that left no trace. Viviana, on the other hand¡­ she¡¯s too proud to be subtle. She wanted to make a statement, to show that she still has teeth.¡±

    Ries nodded slowly, absorbing his words before glancing at the pocket watch she had purchased earlier. ¡°I have to go. I still have work.¡±

    ¡°Duty calls,¡± Ryman murmured, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. ¡°I suppose you have more pressing matters than dealing with an old man¡¯s troubles.¡±

    Ries looked up from her watch, meeting his gaze. ¡°This is important, but so is my other work. I¡¯ll keep an eye on Viviana.¡±

    Ryman gave a curt nod. ¡°Good. Be careful.¡±

    Ries returned the nod, slipping the watch back into her pocket. ¡°I will.¡±

    As she turned to leave, Ryman watched her go, the door clicking shut softly behind her. He exhaled another cloud of smoke, his gaze lingering on the dull, white wall. Maybe his time is coming to an end after all?

    He turned to flick his cigarette into the ashtray on the desk beside him. As he did, his eyes caught the stone carving of Reyvrys, the Chaos Dragon, the King of Dragons. For the first time in his life, he stared at it, really stared at it, as if seeing it for the first time.

    Ryman had never been a religious man. The rituals, the prayers, the incense¡ªall of it had always seemed like a waste of time. The only time he ever set foot in a temple was because his parents insisted, dragging him along to gatherings where they sought blessings and guidance, and above all, to make connections. He had stood there, stiff and indifferent, his mind always elsewhere.

    As a child, he believed that the immaterial world was unimportant, a conviction that drove him to pursue his ambitions relentlessly. It was this belief that had led him to where he was now, in a position of power, wielding the law like a sword. But now, as he lay weakened, staring at the carving of the Chaos Dragon, he felt something unfamiliar¡ªa twinge of doubt.

    Reyvrys, with its fierce, inscrutable gaze, seemed to mock him, a reminder of forces beyond his control. For the first time, the idea that there might be something more, something beyond the tangible world he had always valued, crossed his mind. The notion unsettled him, but he quickly pushed it aside.

    ¡®There was no afterlife.¡¯

    The thought rang out in his mind, as clear and definitive as any ruling he had ever given. The idea of an existence beyond this one was something he had long dismissed as a fantasy, a comforting lie for those who feared the finality of death.

    Why am I thinking of this? Am I about to die?

    He had heard somewhere that people often saw their lives flash before their eyes in their final moments. Was this one of those signs?

    He scoffed, pulling his hand back and crushing the cigarette into the ashtray with more force than necessary. ¡°Nonsense,¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°I¡¯m not done yet.¡± The thought of surrendering to such irrational fears was beneath him. He was a man of the here and now, of the real world, where power was measured in influence and control, not in prayers or statues.

    Reyvrys was dead, after all¡ªdefeated and kill, buried for nearly a millennium. Why should he worship a dead god? What happens to a dead god, anyway? The question was rhetorical, almost mocking. The deity¡¯s stone-carved eyes seemed to bore into him, challenging his scorn.

    Just as he laid down on the pillows, the door to his room opened. Ryman turned to look and saw the person he most expected to come.

    ¡°Eden,¡± he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of irritation and resignation.

    Eden entered the room with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of liquor in the other, his usual jolly smile firmly in place. There was an air of amusement about him, as if he found the whole situation darkly humorous.

    ¡°Ryman.¡± Eden gave a curt nod, setting the bouquet and bottle on the bedside table before dragging a chair over from the desk and positioning it at the foot of the bed. ¡°Got a date with death, have you?¡±

    Ryman couldn¡¯t help but smirk, though it was more of a grimace. ¡°Not yet. Seems death is running late, like everyone else these days.¡±

    ¡°I saw Anise going out of the room. Did you tell her anything?¡± Eden asked carefully, though his tone seemed mocking more than anything.

    Ryman¡¯s smirk faded as he narrowed his eyes at the devil sitting across from him. Eden might have appeared relaxed, but Ryman knew better than to let his guard down. ¡°No. Why are you here, Eden?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, really,¡± Eden replied with a nonchalant shrug. ¡°Just thought I¡¯d check up on you.¡±

    ¡°Check up on me?¡± Ryman echoed, his voice dripping with skepticism. ¡°Since when do you care about anyone but yourself?¡±

    Eden chuckled lightly, a sound that sent a chill down Ryman¡¯s spine. ¡°Let¡¯s not pretend, Ryman. You know as well as I do that we¡¯re in the business of mutual interests. It wouldn¡¯t serve me well if you went on blabbering about this relationship,¡± he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t serve well when one of your illegitimate children suddenly speak up, no?¡±

    Ryman¡¯s breath caught for a moment, but he quickly masked his reaction, though his heart pounded in his chest. Eden knew too much, and that knowledge was a weapon, one he clearly had no qualms about using. ¡°Are you trying to blackmail me, Eden?¡±

    ¡°Well, I certainly like to blackmail people,¡± Eden smiled, but it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°Blackmail is such an ugly word. I prefer to think of it as... a friendly reminder.¡±

    Ryman¡¯s eyes burned with anger, but he forced himself to remain calm. Eden had the upper hand, and they both knew it. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    Without a word, Eden reached into his inner pocket and produced a razor and a small pill. He placed them flatly on the table next to Ryman.

    ¡°Kill yourself.¡±

    Ryman stared at the objects, his mind reeling. The air seemed to thicken, and for a moment, he couldn¡¯t breathe. He looked back up at Eden, who was watching him with a cold and calculated gaze, the smile was gone from his face.

    Ryman wanted to shout his rage, but in the end, he could only muster a whisper. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because it¡¯s time,¡± Eden replied calmly, as if discussing the weather. ¡°You¡¯ve served your purpose, Ryman. But now, you¡¯re a liability. Loose ends need to be tied up, and I¡¯m giving you the chance to do it on your own terms.¡±

    Ryman¡¯s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m very serious,¡± Eden said, his tone almost gentle, but with a deadly edge. ¡°You can choose the razor, or the pill. Quick or slow, it¡¯s up to you.¡±

    The room seemed to close in around Ryman as he processed the magnitude of what Eden was asking¡ªno, demanding. He could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on him, the realization that his life, everything he had built, was crumbling away in the hands of the man who now stood before him.

    For perhaps the final time, Ryman felt truly helpless, cornered like a rat with nowhere to run. He looked at the razor and the pill again, both offering escape but in vastly different ways.

    Eden stood up, he walked towards the window and gazed outside. ¡°It¡¯s your choice, Ryman. But don¡¯t take too long. I¡¯m not a patient man.¡±

    Ryman¡¯s mind raced, weighing his options, searching for some way out. Maybe Anise would come back? Perhaps he shouldn¡¯t have pushed her away from the true darkness. No, he wouldn¡¯t allow that. He wouldn¡¯t forgive himself if he placed an innocent person into Eden¡¯s spotlight.

    Deep down, he knew Eden had left him no way out. The devil had come to collect, and there was no bargaining this time.

    With a trembling hand, Ryman reached out, the razor cold against his fingers. His heart pounded in his chest, fear and anger battling within him. As he picked it up, he met Eden¡¯s eyes one last time, hoping to find some hint of remorse or hesitation.

    There was none.

    Eden looked at him with his hands clasped behind his back. His look was piercing, as if daring him to do it. Now.

    Ryman knew he was beaten. The game was over, and he had lost.

    Slowly, he brought the razor closer, feeling the sharp edge against his skin. He closed his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath.

    Eden¡¯s voice was the last thing he heard.

    ¡°End it.¡±

    And in that moment, Ryman made his choice.

    <hr>

    Information is power. That much Ries knew, thanks to Governor Unteryl. But the full scope of imperial politics remained shrouded in shadow, with only slivers of truth reaching her. So far, she had barely scratched the surface, kept deliberately in the dark. Ryman thought she would just accept his explanation about the Minister of Public Works trying to assassinate him with poison? There had to be something bigger at play.

    Her time being an adventurer sharpened her instincts and intuition, she learned how to spot dishonest people and had become adept at avoiding them, lest she becomes one of those victims where a group of adventurers intentionally leave another for dead deep inside a dungeon after robbing them for all their belongings.

    Ries knew better than to trust Ryman or Eden at face value. They were both hiding something from her, and whatever it was, it had to be significant. There was no way a man in his mid-sixties, deeply entrenched in the upper echelons of government, was without flaws. Not a single one? She found that impossible to believe. Men like Eden were bound to have secrets, probably a mountain of them.

    Which is why she was currently rummaging through Eden¡¯s office, searching for any leads. Being the Deputy Minister had its perks. It wouldn¡¯t be odd for someone in her position to come across a document or two for administrative purposes. She could always claim she was organizing files or reviewing paperwork if anyone walked in on her.

    However, that also meant she had to read through every document she came across, and that was proving to be more challenging than she anticipated. The files weren¡¯t just filled with the usual bureaucratic jargon¡ªthese were dense, technical documents, packed with complicated words and phrases that made her head spin. It was a wall of text, and she found herself having to reread paragraphs just to grasp the basic meaning.

    The documents were far from light-hearted reading. They detailed obscure legal procedures, intricate financial dealings, and the labyrinthine workings of the empire''s bureaucracy. It was as if every sentence was designed to obfuscate rather than inform. The language was deliberately convoluted, the kind that only seasoned bureaucrats or legal experts could easily navigate.

    But Ries persisted. She wasn¡¯t going to let a few pages of dense text stand in her way. If Eden had hidden something within these documents, she would find it. Her eyes scanned the lines, searching for anything that seemed out of place or overly guarded. She took mental notes of any peculiar phrases or names that appeared repeatedly, hoping they might serve as clues later.

    As she sifted through the paperwork, her frustration grew. How could anyone operate within such a system? It was a miracle anyone got anything done at all. But she knew this was by design. This was the empire¡¯s way of keeping people like her¡ªthose without a formal education¡ªout of the loop, ensuring that only a select few truly understood the inner workings of the government.

    The empire prided itself on being a meritocratic society, where mobility for the lower classes was more attainable than in the west. But that meritocracy came with a price. The system was rigid, its demands are incredibly steep. The barriers to entry were high, not just in terms of skill, but in navigating the intricate, often cryptic processes that governed the empire. Perhaps this was the way to ensure that only the best rose to the top, or maybe it was to maintain control for the aristocracy.

    Minutes turned to hours, for the first time, she was completely engrossed in reading the documents. By the time she realized, she had completely lost track of time, her focus narrowing to the lines of text before her. But with each page she turned, her frustration grew. Everything she had read so far was disappointingly ordinary. Mundane administrative issues ranging from petty land disputes to a proposal about fishing licenses.

    She let out a low growl, both her tail and ears twitching with irritation. Was this all there was? She had expected to uncover something significant, something that would give her insight into Eden¡¯s true intentions. Instead, she was drowning in a sea of routine paperwork that seemed to lead nowhere. It was as if she were sifting through a mountain of sand, searching for a single grain of gold.

    Maybe it wasn¡¯t a good idea to start searching in a government office, where someone like Eden would be less likely to hide documents about his misdeeds¡ªif he had even left such evidence behind at all. It dawned on Ries that someone as shrewd as Eden would probably keep anything truly incriminating far away from prying eyes. This office, filled with routine paperwork and administrative minutiae, was unlikely to hold the secrets she was looking for.

    Just as she was about to call it quits and consider searching elsewhere, the phone on the desk rang, its sudden jarring sound cutting through the silence. For a moment, she froze, her heart skipping a beat. The phone was for the Minister of Home Affairs, right?

    Should she answer? It could be someone important, someone expecting to speak with Eden. But what if it was an opportunity?

    Information could come in many forms, and this call might provide a clue, even if indirectly. Besides, she is the Deputy. So her answering it is nothing out of the ordinary, right?

    She reached for the receiver, hesitating for just a second before picking it up.

    ¡°Good evening,¡± she said, trying to sound as authoritative and composed as possible, even though she wasn¡¯t entirely sure what to expect on the other end. ¡°This is the Office of the Ministry of Home Affairs. To who am I talking to?¡±

    There was a brief pause before a voice responded, cutting through the line with an edge of suspicion. ¡°You¡¯re not Eden.¡± The voice was sharp, with a tone that suggested it belonged to a woman.

    Ries felt her heart skip a beat. She hadn¡¯t expected to be called out so quickly. Whoever this was, they knew Eden well enough to recognize when something was off.

    ¡°That¡¯s correct,¡± Ries replied smoothly, trying to maintain her composure. ¡°I¡¯m Deputy Minister Anise, handling matters in his stead for the evening. How can I assist you?¡±

    There was another pause, longer this time, as if the person on the other end was weighing whether or not to trust her. Finally, the line spoke. ¡°Deputy Minister, huh? I heard Eden got himself a new Deputy who¡¯s a Beastmen. Has he treated you well?¡±

    Ries felt a flicker of confusion at the question. The tone suggested familiarity, but it was also tinged with something else¡ªconcern, perhaps, or suspicion. Regardless, she decided to play along. ¡°Yes, he has. May I ask who I¡¯m speaking to?¡±

    There was a slight chuckle on the other end, as if the woman was amused by something. ¡°Well, I suppose it wouldn¡¯t hurt to tell you. I am the Minister of Public Works, Viviana Livingstone.¡±

    Ries¡¯s heart skipped a beat. The very woman Ryman had accused of trying to assassinate him with poison was on the other end of the line. She hadn¡¯t expected to encounter her so directly, and certainly not like this. But she knew she had to stay calm and use this unexpected connection to her advantage.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Minister Livingstone,¡± Ries said, her voice steady. ¡°It¡¯s an honor to speak with you. How can I assist you this evening?¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ How should I put this?¡± The woman seemed to ponder something, loudly even. ¡°How about we discuss this in my office? The Public Works building is near the east gate of the complex.¡±

    Ries considered it for a moment. The woman Ryman was accusing of poisoning him was inviting her for a private meeting. What was her goal? Yes, it did give her an opportunity, a dangerous opportunity but an opportunity nonetheless.

    She couldn¡¯t possibly try to kill her once she stepped inside her office, right?

    There would be a large power difference, Ries herself was a C-rank adventurer, which was by no means an easy feat to achieve. She doubted if these aristocrats can even fight an orc.

    ¡°Minister Livingstone,¡± Ries said, keeping her voice steady, ¡°it would be my pleasure to meet with you. I can head to your office right away.¡±

    There was a brief pause, and then Viviana replied, her tone almost playful. ¡°Wonderful. I¡¯ll be expecting you. But I recommend you coming in after sunset.¡±

    As the line went dead, Ries set the receiver down and took a moment to collect her thoughts. The request to meet after sunset added an extra layer of tension to the situation. Why after dark? Was it to avoid prying eyes, or could it be something more sinister¡ªa way to dispose of her without anyone noticing?

    She couldn¡¯t shake the unease that crept into her mind. She knew little about Viviana Livingstone, other than the accusations Ryman had thrown her way. Even her knowledge of Eden and Ryman was limited. Both men were enigmatic, cloaked in layers of secrecy. She couldn¡¯t help but wonder if Livingstone was the same, a dangerous figure with hidden motives.

    As these thoughts swirled in her mind, her stomach interrupted with a loud growl, demanding attention. All the reading, scheming, and worrying had drained her energy. She realized she hadn¡¯t eaten in hours, and now hunger was making itself impossible to ignore.

    She sighed, deciding that she needed a break before the evening¡¯s potentially perilous encounter. If she was going to face whatever awaited her, she¡¯d need to be at her best¡ªboth mentally and physically. And that meant getting a good meal in her.

    Ries allowed herself a small smile. She had some extra money laying around, enough to fund someone¡¯s tuition fee upfront in the Imperial Valyrys University, she would treat herself to something extravagant. After all, she deserved it, didn¡¯t she? This could be her last chance to enjoy a good meal before the storm that was brewing in her life truly hit.

    <hr>

    Eden walked alone in the cold, wet, and silent streets of Valyra. The city, usually bustling with life, had succumbed to the storm¡¯s unexpected fury. The rain poured down in relentless sheets, turning the streets into rivers and forcing almost all traffic to a standstill. Only the restaurants and entertainment venues remained open, their lights flickering dimly through the downpour, beacons in an otherwise desolate night.

    The rain didn¡¯t bother him. He was dressed for the occasion, wearing a military raincoat that reached down to his legs, its heavy fabric shielding him from the worst of the weather. A wide-brimmed fedora sat atop his head, its brim keeping most of the rain from his face. Despite his precautions, a few stray droplets managed to find their way under his coat, cold and unwelcome against his skin. But he barely noticed. He¡¯d been through worse.

    Eden¡¯s thoughts were elsewhere, far from the rain-soaked streets of Valyra.

    Everything was in place. Every piece on the board, every player, meticulously arranged according to his design. This failure would not repeat itself. The sting of that unexpected defeat during the vote still lingered, but Eden was not one to dwell on setbacks. He had immediately set to work, formulating a new plan¡ªa plan that was now ready to be executed.

    The game of power was one he had played for years, maneuvering through the treacherous waters of politics with the precision of a master strategist. But this time, the stakes were higher than ever. He couldn¡¯t afford another misstep, the entire empire¡¯s future¡ªand more importantly, his own¡ªhung in the balance.

    Truth be told, it wasn¡¯t like Eden to construct an entirely new plot from scratch in a single day. He was a man who thrived on careful planning, on schemes that took months, even years, to come to fruition. But the situation demanded swift action. The blow dealt to him by that vote had been unexpected, a crack in his otherwise impenetrable armor. He knew he couldn¡¯t wait. His time is nearing and soon enough, the grim reaper would come to collect his soul.

    His hand unconsciously gripped his chest, he could feel his heart beating slower than usual. Slower than yesterday, and even slower than yesteryear.

    He had spent the past twenty-four hours working relentlessly, drawing on every resource, every connection, to put this new plan into motion. It wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªno plan ever was¡ªbut it was effective. And most importantly, it was ruthless. There would be no more chances for his opponents to defy him. This time, he would ensure they were silenced permanently.

    If this plan succeeded, it would solidify his position beyond challenge. He would become untouchable, the true power behind the empire¡¯s throne. Even the Empress would become his puppet with little to no decision-making power.

    If it failed? Well, failure was not an option he allowed himself to consider. Not now. Not ever. Not when he was so close to achieving everything he had worked for. The pieces were in place, and the game was about to enter its final, decisive phase. Eden would make sure that this time, the outcome would be different.

    He reached an establishment bathed in bright, colorful lights¡ªa place known as ¡®The Faeries.¡¯ Its colorful lights cast a welcoming glow to patrons. Without hesitation, he stepped inside, the door closing behind him with a muffled thud.

    The thick scent of perfume and other chemicals hit his nose immediately, a potent mixture that clung to the air like a fog. Inside, the establishment was a world unto itself¡ªa dimly lit sanctuary where men and women engaged in economic activity by way of selling their bodies. A strip club, in less polite terms, but for Eden, it was something more, a sanctuary for secrecy.

    He had been here countless times before, and every visit had been for the same purpose. High-profile meetings, the kind that couldn¡¯t take place within the walls of government buildings or even the privacy of a mansion, were conducted here, in the shadows of this clandestine environment. The allure of the place wasn¡¯t in its offerings but in its discretion. No one would expect a meeting of significance to occur in such a setting. It was perfect for his needs.

    His thoughts were interrupted by an approaching waitress, who held a tray of drinks on one hand, and wore a thin piece of clothing, revealing too much of her top. ¡°Hey honey, looks like you need some fun. I can help you with that.¡±

    He put on his signature jolly, happy face, the one that had disarmed countless adversaries and charmed many a reluctant ally. ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you just a ray of sunshine on a rainy night?¡± he replied with a playful tone, his eyes crinkling as if he were genuinely amused.

    She was flirting, the young woman was just doing her job, trying to make a living in a world that wasn¡¯t kind to those without power. Eden could sympathize, to a point, but his sympathy had its limits. He knew better than to cause a scene.

    ¡°Thank you, darling,¡± he continued, his voice smooth and warm, ¡°but I¡¯m just here for a quiet drink tonight. Got some business to take care of, you know how it is.¡±

    The waitress smiled, though her eyes hinted at disappointment. She was likely used to more direct advances, but Eden¡¯s charm had a way of softening the blow of rejection. ¡°Of course, honey,¡± she purred, giving him a glass of alcohol. ¡°But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.¡±

    With that, she turned and sauntered away, her presence leaving a faint trace of perfume in the air. Eden watched her go, his smile fading the moment she was out of sight.

    He took a sip of the drink, the alcohol burning slightly as it went down, but he barely noticed. The person he was about to meet isn¡¯t someone he¡¯s fond of, despise even. Yet, he¡¯d made countless deals with the devil, this one is no less different.

    Eden navigated through the dimly lit room, the scent of alcohol and sweat thick in the air. The flashing lights and blaring music created an atmosphere of debauchery, but he paid no mind to it. The men around him, tossing their money carelessly at the dancers, were lost in their own world, a world of debauchery, of hedonism unrestrained.

    His eyes scanned the room, searching for a particular figure amid the sea of vice. Eventually, he spotted her behind the bar counter. A siren with wide, feathered cyan wings, her movements fluid and graceful as she mixed a drink for a leering patron. The collar around her neck made it clear her status as a slave. One that Eden owns, and as a means to keep tabs on this place.

    Upon reaching the bar, he tapped the counter twice to announce his arrival.

    The siren¡¯s movements paused for a brief moment, her sharp senses immediately recognizing the subtle gesture. She finished preparing the drink with practiced ease, handing it off to the patron with a forced smile before turning her attention to Eden. Her eyes, a striking shade of azure, met his, and she gave the smallest of nods, acknowledging him without drawing attention to their interaction.

    ¡°Evening, sir,¡± she said, her voice smooth and melodic, but with a shaky undertone that felt obvious. ¡°The¡­ guest is in the back.¡± She choked out.

    He offered her a reassuring smile. "Good," he replied. "Keep an eye on things for me."

    The siren nodded, her wings rustling slightly as she did. "Of course, sir," she murmured, her voice low, barely audible over the din of the club. "I''ll be watching."

    With that, Eden turned and moved away from the bar, weaving through the crowd with the ease of someone who had navigated such spaces countless times. He reached the back of the club, where the noise and chaos of the main floor faded into a muted hum. The door before him was heavy, its frame reinforced¡ªa subtle but clear indication that what lay beyond was meant to be private, secure.

    He pushed the door open and stepped into a room that, at first glance, seemed to mirror the club outside. The lighting was dim and tinged with seductive hues, designed to awaken the basest instincts of its occupants. However, there was an air of exclusivity here, a sense that this was a place where only those with power or influence were permitted.

    Seated at the center of the room was the man Eden had come to meet. He was a grotesque figure, his body a mass of excess, round and oily, with folds of flesh that seemed to glisten under the colored lights.

    Morbidly obese, in less polite tone.

    The man was surrounded by young women, each one attending to him with a mixture of feigned interest and forced enthusiasm. They were mere accessories, part of the scenery that catered to his every whim.

    Eden took in the scene with a practiced indifference, his expression unreadable. The man was repugnant, not just in appearance but in the way he reveled in his own indulgence, surrounded by the trappings of his wealth and power.

    The man looked up as Eden entered, a grin spreading across his greasy face. "Eden," he wheezed, his voice thick and labored, yet filled with a twisted kind of delight. "You¡¯ve finally arrived. I was beginning to think you¡¯d forgotten about our little meeting."

    Eden moved closer, his steps measured and controlled. "I never forget," he replied, his tone flat, devoid of the charm he had shown to the waitress earlier. ¡°Enjoying yourself, Director Veron?¡±

    The man in front of Eden was none other than the Director of the ISD, Elias Veron. A man who, in multiple people¡¯s account, is so fat that he could probably devastate a small kingdom¡¯s food supply in under a day. Even then, the man had expensive taste and was pretty much a hedonist to the core.

    ¡°Yes, yes, yes¡­ you¡¯re really something else, are you, Eden?¡± He muttered. Veron waved his pudgy hand dismissively, sending one of the girls away as he shifted his bulk to a more upright position. "But first, why don¡¯t you join me for a drink? It¡¯s not every day we get to indulge in such... luxuries."

    Eden glanced at the glass offered to him, the liquid inside shimmering under the colored lights. He could smell the sharp tang of alcohol mixed with something sweeter, something more dangerous. He knew better than to trust a drink offered in such a setting, especially from a man like this.

    "I¡¯ll pass," Eden said curtly, ignoring the glass and focusing instead on the man¡¯s face. "Let¡¯s get to the point. Time is something I don¡¯t have in excess."

    Veron¡¯s grin faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, his laughter rumbling out like a guttural growl. "Straight to business, then," he said, his tone shifting to one of mock seriousness. "I can respect that. You¡¯re not unlike the other nobles, what do you need from me this time?"

    ¡°I need the ISD to look the other way for tonight,¡± Eden crossed his arms. ¡°I need you to block information from leaving the city, and ensure that certain obstacles are removed.¡±

    Veron¡¯s eyes glinted with a mix of greed. "And what do I get in return?" he asked, licking his lips as if savoring the potential rewards.

    Eden glanced at the young girls beside the man, their faces a mix of vacant compliance and forced allure. His expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°I can get you girls even younger than them.¡±

    Veron¡¯s grin widened, his eyes narrowing with dark satisfaction. "You always know how to sweeten the deal, Eden," he muttered, his tone a sickening mix of appreciation and avarice. He leaned back, the leather of the chair creaking under his weight as he weighed the offer, though Eden knew the outcome was already decided.

    ¡°Done,¡± he said after a moment, his voice taking on a more businesslike tone. ¡°The ISD will be occupied elsewhere, and any messages trying to leave the city will be... delayed.¡±

    Eden nodded, his face betraying no trace of the revulsion he felt. "Good," he replied. "Is the Empress in her palace today?¡±

    Veron¡¯s eyes flickered with amusement, a sly grin curling his lips. ¡°The Empress? Always so curious, Eden. But yes, she¡¯s in her palace, safe and sound¡ªor as safe as one can be in her position.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all I needed to know,¡± Eden replied. ¡°Make sure you don¡¯t deliberately botch anything. I¡¯ll send the girls to you within the hour.¡±

    Veron waved a dismissive hand, his grin never faltering. ¡°Consider it done. You know where to find me if you need anything else. But do try to stay for a drink next time, Eden. Life¡¯s too short to always be so... serious.¡±

    Eden didn¡¯t bother with a response. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving Veron to his indulgences. The door closed behind him with a heavy thud, sealing the room and its secrets away from the outside world.

    Eden¡¯s expression remained stoic as he navigated the narrow hallway leading to the bathroom, but a flicker of disgust crossed his face as he entered the dimly lit space. The stench of cheap perfume and sweat clung to the air, mingling with the faint sound of moans emanating from behind the closed stalls. The club¡¯s decadence was a suffocating weight on his senses.

    He approached the sink, turning the faucet with deliberate force. The water, cold and clear, splashed over his hands, washing away the invisible filth he felt clinging to his skin after his interaction with Veron. Even if he hadn¡¯t touched him directly, he already felt assaulted.

    Eden scrubbed his hands with a clinical precision, as if scrubbing away the corruption that had tainted his very soul. He focused on the task, ignoring the lewd sounds around him.

    With his hands clean, Eden turned off the faucet and stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror. The face that looked back at him was calm, composed, and utterly devoid of emotion. He was a man of purpose, a man who would do whatever it took to achieve his goals. The cost was irrelevant. The ends always justified the means.

    After a moment, he dried his hands on a threadbare towel and straightened his coat. There was no time to linger.

    He glanced at his pocket watch.

    Spring is coming.

    <hr>

    Ries felt her stomach drop, a wave of discomfort rolling through her as she tried to push past the sudden heaviness in her limbs, the stomachache didn¡¯t help the fact that she¡¯d probably overindulged, letting herself get carried away by the lavish feast that had been laid out before her.

    But who could resist? For someone like her, who had spent so many years scraping by, eating whatever she could afford after completing grueling quests, the sheer abundance of luxurious food was an impossible temptation. She hadn¡¯t been able to help herself, piling her plate high with delicacies she¡¯d only ever dreamed of tasting.

    Now, though, the indulgence felt like a mistake. The richness of the meal sat heavy in her stomach, mixing poorly with the plethora of expensive alcohol she had drunk. She swallowed hard, as she approached the large door leading to the Minister of Public Works¡¯ office.

    Even the storm that almost made her wet didn¡¯t make that much discomfort.

    Ries paused for a moment, clutching her stomach as another wave of nausea rolled through her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. With a final breath, she raised her hand and knocked on the door, the sound echoing in the hallway.

    ¡°Come in,¡± came a feminine voice of presumably Viviana Livingstone.

    Ries pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was ornate, as always, but today it felt even more suffocating. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the weight of opulence, and the space seemed cramped, overstuffed with luxurious furniture that only added to her discomfort.

    Viviana Livingstone sat on a plush couch, her posture was relaxed but her eyes were sharp as they met Ries¡¯. The Minister of Public Works was every bit as imposing as her surroundings, a woman of refined taste. Opposite her sat a man Ries didn¡¯t recognize, though she swears she¡¯d seen him before, but where?

    Viviana¡¯s gaze shifted to the man beside her, a small smile playing on her lips as she noticed Ries¡¯ hesitation. "Ah, Deputy Minister," she said smoothly, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I see you¡¯ve met our guest."

    Ries nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing as she tried to remember where she had seen this man before. There was something about him¡­ and that armband he wore around him¡­

    ¡°You¡¯re with the ISD,¡± Ries finished, her voice dropping as recognition finally dawned on her. The man¡¯s nondescript appearance suddenly made sense¡ªthe kind of face that was easy to forget, designed to blend into any crowd. But the armband, emblazoned with the emblem of the Imperial Security Directorate, was unmistakable.

    The man offered a thin smile, his eyes devoid of warmth. "Very observant, Deputy Minister," he said, his voice as unremarkable as his appearance. "Director Veron sends his regards."

    Ries felt a knot tighten in her stomach. The ISD rarely involved themselves in anything pleasant, their presence a harbinger of hidden agendas and unspoken threats. What could they possibly want with Viviana? More importantly, what does she has to do with any of this?

    Viviana cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to her. Her expression was cool, almost detached, as she crossed one leg over the other and turned to the agent. "Now that introductions are out of the way," she said with a firm voice. "let''s dispense with the pleasantries. What business does the ISD have here?"

    Without waiting for an answer, she shifted her gaze to Ries, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You, sit here," she ordered, tapping the couch cushion next to her.

    Ries'' gaze darted between the ISD agent and Viviana. Viviana''s commanding tone left no room for argument. Ries hesitated for a fraction of a second before moving toward the couch and sat down, her body stiff and alert.

    Viviana watched her with an appraising eye before turning her attention back to the agent. "I asked you a question," she said with a firm tone. "What business does the ISD have with me?¡±

    The agent¡¯s thin smile remained fixed, but his gaze shifted to Viviana, assessing her with the same clinical detachment. "Director Veron believes it¡¯s in everyone''s best interest to ensure tonight¡¯s... events proceed smoothly," he began, his tone carefully measured. "Given recent developments, he thought it prudent to send me as a liaison. A precaution, if you will."

    Viviana raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched in her features. "You keep mentioning this ¡®event¡¯ and that I need to steer clear. What exactly is going on?"

    The agent¡¯s expression didn¡¯t falter, but there was a slight pause before he answered, as if weighing how much to reveal. "A matter of security," he replied smoothly. "Let¡¯s just say that certain individuals have become... problematic, and it¡¯s in everyone¡¯s best interest to avoid unnecessary complications. The Directorate has a vested interest in maintaining order, after all."

    Viviana''s expression hardened, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Order," she repeated, her voice tinged with disdain. "And what exactly is this ''order'' you''re so keen to maintain? What could these individuals possibly do that warrants the ISD''s direct involvement?"

    "We¡¯re merely ensuring that all parties involved remain... cooperative," he replied, choosing his words with care. "The Directorate has a vested interest in maintaining order and stability, and sometimes, that requires a more... hands-on approach."

    Ries felt a prickle of unease at the agent''s words, the cold detachment in his tone sending a chill through her. She had no love for the ISD, though her interactions with the ISD were minimal, she knew enough about their ruthless methods to understand that their version of ¡®order¡¯ often meant suppression. Whatever this "event" was, it clearly involved more than just the usual political maneuvering.

    Viviana, however, wasn¡¯t so easily intimidated. She leaned back on the couch, crossing her legs with deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving the agent''s. "If you think you can strong-arm me into compliance, you''re sorely mistaken," she said coolly. "I''m not some pawn you can push around. So, unless you have something more concrete to say, I suggest you reconsider your approach."

    The agent¡¯s smile remained intact, but a flicker of annoyance crossed his eyes. "Very well, Minister Livingstone. If we can¡¯t count on your cooperation, then we¡¯ll conclude our discussion here."

    He stood up smoothly, his demeanor unchanged, and turned to leave. Ries exhaled a breath she hadn''t realized she was holding. The man''s presence had put her on edge in a way she hadn''t felt in a long time. Viviana, however, kept her sharp gaze locked on him, her instincts clearly screaming that something was amiss. You don¡¯t simply let your guard down in front of an ISD agent.

    In a split second, before Ries could fully register what was happening, Viviana lunged forward, shoving Ries aside with surprising strength. A blinding flash filled the room, followed by the deafening crack of lightning. The plush sofa where Ries had been sitting a moment ago exploded into smoldering fragments, the air thick with the acrid scent of ozone.

    The source of the attack was unmistakable¡ªthe agent, his calm facade shattered, stood with his hand outstretched, the remnants of a lethal spell crackling around his fingers. He had intended to kill them both.

    Ries¡¯ survival instincts kicked in, her heart pounding in her chest as she fumbled for her handgun. Her hands trembled, the shock of the sudden violence making it difficult to steady herself. Meanwhile, Viviana was already in motion, her eyes narrowed with deadly focus.

    With a fluid gesture, Viviana conjured a spell of her own. An enormous orb of water, dense and heavy, materialized in her outstretched hand. The weight of hundreds of kilograms of water compressed into a tight sphere, pulsing with raw energy. Without hesitation, she hurled the orb at the agent.

    The agent barely had time to react. He raised his hand, attempting to cast a counterspell, but the water orb slammed into him with the force of a tidal wave. The impact sent him crashing into the wall, the spell¡¯s energy detonating on contact. Water splashed across the room, drenching the walls and extinguishing the smoldering remains of the sofa.

    The agent, staggered but not defeated, quickly regained his footing, his eyes now burning with cold fury. He began to weave another spell, his hands moving with practiced precision as arcane energy crackled around him.

    Ries, still on the floor, finally steadied herself and gripped her handgun with both hands. The weight of the weapon was familiar, but her hands trembled as she took aim at the agent. Just as he was about to complete his spell, Viviana¡¯s voice cut through the chaos.

    ¡°Shoot him!¡± she commanded.

    Ries didn¡¯t hesitate. She squeezed the trigger, the gun roaring as she emptied the entire magazine into the man. Simultaneously, Viviana conjured several small fireballs, each one glowing with intense heat as they shot toward the agent, homing in on their target.

    The agent reacted with lightning speed. With a flick of his wrist, he cast a shield around himself¡ªa shimmering barrier of arcane energy that absorbed the incoming fireballs and bullets. The projectiles disintegrated on contact, the force of the shield dispersing them harmlessly into the air.

    Ries'' heart sank as she watched her bullets disappear against the barrier. This man was no ordinary operative, his skill in magic was clearly formidable. But she suppose that¡¯s just the standard ISD recruiting requirement.

    The shield shimmered for a moment longer before dissipating, leaving the agent unharmed and now visibly angered.

    Viviana''s eyes narrowed. "He¡¯s stronger than I anticipated," she muttered. "But no one¡¯s invincible."

    The agent prepared to cast another spell. But before he could complete the spell, Viviana lunged forward, her hand glowing with a brilliant blue light. She slammed her palm against the ground, and the entire room trembled as a shockwave of energy erupted from her, sending a powerful ripple through the floor.

    The ripple destabilized the agent¡¯s stance, causing him to stagger backward, his spell faltering. Viviana seized the opportunity, her eyes flashing with determination. "Now!" she shouted.

    In that critical moment, Ries¡¯ instincts took over, honed from her years as an assassin. The agent''s barrier shimmered around him, a protective bubble of magic, but she knew its weakness. With a sharp exhale, her form dissolved into a black mist, a technique from her past that allowed her to bypass defenses and strike from unexpected angles.

    The mist swirled around the room, reforming behind the agent in a heartbeat. He barely had time to register her movement before he felt the cold, hard barrel of her handgun pressed against the side of his face.

    The agent froze, his spell dissipating as he realized the precariousness of his situation.

    "End of the line," Viviana said coldly. "You¡¯ve got one chance to talk. Make it count."

    The agent''s lips curled into a twisted smile. "I am loyal to the¡ª"

    Before he could finish, a deafening crack echoed through the room. Viviana, without hesitation, unleashed a spell that caused the agent''s head to explode in a gruesome burst of blood and brain matter, splattering across the already ravaged room. The sight was horrifying, but Ries remained unfazed, her expression steely as she lowered her gun.

    Viviana, with her eyes cold and unrepentant, turned to Ries. "He had no intention of telling us anything, just so you know."

    Ries nodded, wiping the splatter off her cheek with the back of her hand. "I figured as much," she replied, her tone was a mix of unease and expectant. She had seen her share of brutality in her past life as an adventurer, and then war.

    Viviana''s frown deepened as she glanced around the blood-splattered room. "Sorry for dragging you into this. I expected Eden to pick up the phone¡ªguess he¡¯s unavailable too, huh?" She dusted off a blood from her coat. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Uh, Anise, Deputy Minister of Home Affairs,¡± Ries replied, still processing the whirlwind of events.

    Viviana gave a slight nod, a faint smile playing on her lips. ¡°Ah, Anise. Well, if tonight is any indication of what¡¯s to come, I advise you to prepare yourself for more. Don¡¯t be surprised if you end up as an interim minister.¡±

    Ries didn¡¯t like the sound of that, at all. ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    Based on the Minister¡¯s wording, things might not be going exactly splendid by the looks of things. Those in power are either falling, or fleeing due to some odd circumstance. And by the looks of things, tonight is just the beginning.

    Viviana''s expression remained unreadable as she glanced at Ries. "It means, Deputy Minister, that things are about to get a lot more chaotic. Those in power might not stay there much longer¡ªsome are falling, others are fleeing, and you might just find yourself filling a vacuum that no one expected."

    Ries REALLY didn¡¯t like the sound of that AT ALL. The idea of stepping into a larger role, especially under these circumstances, was terrifying. But there was no denying the reality that Viviana hinted at, something big was unfolding, and it was only just beginning.

    Viviana began to walk outside the office and down the corridor, with Ries keeping pace beside her. "You¡¯re saying people are being removed?"

    Viviana nodded, her gaze drifting toward the large window arches that lined the corridor. The city outside was cloaked in the night¡¯s stillness, but an undercurrent of unease seemed to permeate everything. ¡°It might be just a guess,¡± she replied, her tone somber, ¡°but¡­ removed, replaced, or simply... disappearing.¡±

    Ries felt a shiver run down her spine. She learned early on that in a world where power was everything, those who lost it didn¡¯t just step down, they were often erased. And if this was happening at the highest levels, then the situation was far more dire than she had imagined.

    "How far does this go?" Ries asked, glancing at Viviana.

    The Minister only shook her head, a deep frown creasing her brow. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I only noticed something was amiss when none of the Ministers I called responded, or came to our usual tea time.¡±

    "You think they''re all...?" Ries hesitated, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

    "Removed? Perhaps," Viviana sighs. "Or maybe they''ve gone into hiding, trying to survive whatever is coming.¡±

    ¡°So what do we do?¡±

    Viviana stopped walking and turned to face Ries. ¡°I just so happen to know a passage that will lead us safely outside.¡±

    Without another word, Viviana turned her attention to a nearby painting hung on the wall. It was a magnificent portrait of a legendary statesman, adorned in his uniform and regalia, exuding authority and wisdom.

    Ries watched as Viviana approached the painting. With a subtle press on the frame, the painting shifted, revealing a hidden mechanism. The wall beside it slid open with a soft rumble, revealing a narrow, dimly lit passageway that seemed to descend into the bowels of the building.

    "Come on," Viviana urged, stepping into the passage. "We don¡¯t have much time."

    <hr>

    It was a cold night, the remnants of a recent storm leaving puddles scattered across the cobblestone streets. The air was heavy with the scent of rain and a tense, uneasy calm.

    Yet, the tranquility was shattered by the rumble of engines as a convoy of trucks barreled down the slick streets, their wheels smoldering the puddles beneath them. These were no ordinary vehicles, they belonged to the Imperial Gendarmerie, each truck packed with 24 stern-faced soldiers. Who, probably didn¡¯t know why they were deployed into the palace except for an apparent threat to the Empress.

    As the convoy approached the gates of the imperial palace, the usual protocol seemed to evaporate. The palace guards, trained to recognize friend from foe, hesitated as their superiors¡ªmen they trusted¡ªordered them to stand down. Like the good soldiers they are, they opened the gates without resistance, allowing the trucks to roar through unhindered.

    But the moment the trucks halted at the front of the palace, any pretense of cooperation evaporated. The palace guards, their nerves frayed by the sudden intrusion, swiftly readied their rifles, training them on the soldiers now spilling out of the vehicles.

    The guards, though outnumbered, stood their ground, their eyes locked on the intruders, fingers hovering near triggers. The Gendarmerie soldiers, clad in their marine uniforms moved with urgency as they form a perimeter around the trucks, their own weapons at the ready.

    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± From behind the palace guards, a man wearing the signature palace guard tricorne, yelled. Flanked with two other palace guards.

    The captain''s sharp eyes scanned the scene, noting the disciplined formation of Gendarmerie soldiers training their weapons at him. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword as he tried to make sense of the situation. Just as confusion began to give way to anger, a voice called out from within the ranks of the intruders.

    ¡°Captain Zuiver!¡±

    The captain''s gaze snapped to the source, narrowing as he recognized the figure stepping forward. ¡°Minister Eden... what is the meaning of this?¡± he demanded, his tone laced with disbelief and a growing sense of betrayal.

    Eden stepped into the dim light of the courtyard, a smile playing on his lips. His presence was exuding an unsettling calm. Gone was his usual dignified coat, instead, he was clad in his old military uniform, adorned with medals and awards from campaigns long past. The uniform, along with the tricorne perched atop his head, seemed almost like a relic of another era¡ªan era where Eden was not just a Minister, but a soldier.

    "Captain Zuiver," Eden greeted with a smooth, almost affable, voice, as if they were discussing matters of little consequence rather than a potential coup. "I see you''re as vigilant as ever. But I''m afraid you''re out of the loop on this one."

    Zuiver¡¯s eyes narrowed further. "Explain yourself, Minister. Why are Gendarmerie soldiers storming the palace? Under whose authority?"

    ¡°Under my authority, Captain. Now move aside. I don¡¯t plan on getting anybody hurt.¡±

    "Under your authority?" Zuiver echoed, his voice laced with incredulity. "You may be a Minister, but here, within these walls, the authority is mine. And I¡¯ll not relinquish it on your say-so."

    Eden¡¯s smile thinned, his patience clearly wearing. ¡°Captain, I have no desire to harm anyone tonight. Your cooperation is expected, and if you comply, I can assure you, no harm will come to your men."

    ¡°My loyalty is to the Empress, not to a Minister with ambitions above his station,¡± Zuiver replied with a firm voice. ¡°If you want this palace, you¡¯ll have to go through me!¡±

    Zuiver turned to the palace guards. ¡°Men! At arms! The Empire is under siege by traitors!¡± The declaration echoed through the courtyard like a battle cry, his voice carrying the weight of unwavering loyalty. The palace guards responded immediately, their rifles snapping to attention as they formed a defensive line around their captain.

    Eden¡¯s expression darkened, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He had hoped for a swift, bloodless transition. The ringing of the palace bells only heightened the urgency, signaling that the entire palace was now aware of the imminent danger.

    ¡°Captain, you¡¯re making a grave mistake,¡± Eden warned, his voice cold and clipped. ¡°The Empress is powerless to stop what¡¯s coming. I suggest you stand down before you force my hand.¡±

    But Zuiver was unmoved, his resolve as solid as the stone walls of the palace. ¡°I¡¯ll die before I let traitors take this palace. Men, prepare to defend the Empire!¡±

    The palace guards braced themselves, eyes locked on the advancing Gendarmerie soldiers. The courtyard, once a place of order and grandeur, was now on the brink of chaos. The ringing bells reverberated through the night, a clarion call to arms that would soon be answered by the entire palace garrison.

    Eden, sensing the situation spiraling out of control, gave a sharp nod to his soldiers. The Gendarmerie, disciplined and efficient, moved with precision, encircling the palace guards, their weapons trained on their targets. The clash was inevitable.

    The tension in the courtyard was palpable, the kind that tightened every muscle and made the air hard to breathe. Both sides, palace guards and Gendarmerie soldiers, stood in a deadly standoff, their weapons ready, their eyes locked in a silent battle of will. The ringing bells had alerted the palace garrison, but it was too late for any reinforcements to defuse the situation.

    The Gendarmerie soldiers, trained and methodical, moved into position, a machine gun brought up from one of the trucks and set up on its tripod, its barrel aimed squarely at the palace guards. They waited for Eden¡¯s command, their fingers hovering over triggers, the tension winding tighter with every passing second.

    Zuiver¡¯s eyes narrowed as he watched the Gendarmerie¡¯s preparations. He could see the fear in his men¡¯s eyes, but also the determination. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and standing against impossible odds¡ªbut they would not back down. They were the palace guards, the second line of defense of the Empress! She was behind them, and he¡¯ll be damned if they don¡¯t go down without making them bleed!

    It was impossible to say who fired first, but as the crack of a gunshot split the air, so too does the shot reverberated throughout the Empire.

 Part XII: The longest night

    Eden stood motionless in the center of the bloodied throne room, surrounded by the bodies of those who had dared to oppose him. The air was thick with the stench of blood and the lingering echoes of violence. His gaze was fixed on the grand crown that sat upon the throne, untouched and gleaming amidst the carnage.

    The crown was more than just a symbol of power; it was a relic of unimaginable importance, once worn by Reyvrys, the Chaos Dragon, the Empire¡¯s deity. Its intricate design, adorned with exotic gems, each pulsating with a faint, arcane energy, was mesmerizing. It was said that the crown held a fragment of the dragon¡¯s power, a tangible connection to the divine.

    Eden couldn¡¯t help but feel a sense of awe as he stared at it. The crown represented everything the Empire had stood for, a legacy of strength and dominion. But as much as it fascinated him, Eden had no desire to place it upon his head. He knew his place in the grand scheme of things¡ªhe was no royal, nor was he descended from the dragons. He was a soldier, a tactician, a minister, a servant of the people.

    Quite fascinating, isn¡¯t it? The thought crossed his mind as he considered the path that had led him here, to this blood-soaked chamber, where history itself seemed to hang in the air.

    His thoughts were interrupted by the hurried footsteps of a Gendarmerie officer who entered through the large doors, his face pale and drawn. ¡°Minister, there¡¯s no sign of the Empress anywhere,¡± the officer reported, his voice tense.

    Eden¡¯s gaze shifted from the crown to the officer, his expression unreadable. ¡°No sign at all?¡± he asked, his tone measured, betraying nothing of the turmoil beneath.

    The officer shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ve searched every room, every corridor. It¡¯s as if she vanished into thin air.¡±

    Eden didn¡¯t respond. The Gendarmerie was supposed to have the palace on lockdown¡ªthere was no way she could have escaped without being detected. Even then, he had surrounded the city with patrols everywhere¡­

    Unless¡­

    ¡®Unless Veron that pedophile lied to me?!¡¯

    The thought sent a surge of anger through Eden.

    Eden¡¯s eyes narrowed. If Veron had indeed betrayed him, there would be a reckoning. But for now, he had to focus on finding the Empress. He couldn''t let emotions cloud his judgment, not when everything was hanging by a thread.

    "Continue the search," Eden finally said, his voice cold and steely. "Double the patrols, question everyone. I want every inch of this palace and the surrounding grounds scoured.¡±

    The officer nodded and quickly left the room to carry out Eden''s orders.

    Eden turned back to the throne, his gaze once again settling on the crown. The Empress¡¯s absence was a problem, but not an insurmountable one. He still had the Gendarmerie and a Ranger company, while other high-ranking ministers are either dead or fled.

    Eden¡¯s mind shifted to the next steps. He would need to tighten his control over the remaining ministers, rally the military commanders to his side, and perhaps most importantly, manage the narrative. If the Empress had indeed fled, he could use that to his advantage¡ªpaint her as a coward who abandoned her people, a figure unworthy of the crown. If she was captured, he could use her as a puppet to legitimize his rule. But first, he needed to find her, or at least ensure that she couldn¡¯t be used against him.

    The radio at his side crackled to life, cutting through his thoughts. ¡°Sir, the National Assembly is in lockdown. We can¡¯t break through.¡±

    Ah, of course. There was supposed to be an assembly session tonight, what a shame he couldn¡¯t make it. ¡°Shell it,¡± he ordered, his voice devoid of emotion.

    There was a pause on the other end, just long enough to confirm the officer¡¯s hesitation. ¡°Understood, sir. Shelling the Assembly.¡±

    The true statesman is the one who is willing to take risks.

    <hr>

    Ries and Viviana had been on the run for what felt like hours, though the chaos of the night made time difficult to measure. The streets of Valyra, usually alive with the hum of activity, were now eerily silent. The shops were shuttered, and homes darkened, as if the city itself had retreated into fear.

    By now, Ries had known it was a full-scale coup attempt. Evident by the Imperial Marechaussee, which was the Gendarmerie, had become a force of occupation, their presence a reminder of the power struggle playing out at the heart of the Empire. Government offices, once teeming with bureaucrats and officials, were now under military control, their occupants either detained or fled. Police stations had been seized and their officers replaced by soldiers who answered directly to Eden.

    ¡°This is bad,¡± Viviana muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as they ducked into a narrow alleyway. Despite the tension, she remained composed, her expression betraying little of the fear she must have felt. ¡°I didn¡¯t think Eden would go this far.¡±

    Ries nodded, her gaze scanning the darkened streets. ¡°It¡¯s worse than I imagined. The city¡¯s turned into a warzone.¡±

    Or at least, part of it had. The real fighting seemed confined to the main boulevard, the imperial palace, and the government complex. The rest of the city, for now, remained untouched, but that could change at any moment.

    They moved cautiously through the backstreets, sticking to the shadows to avoid the thickest Gendarmerie patrols. Ries¡¯ ears twitched at every sound¡ªthe distant march of boots, the low rumble of engines, the occasional burst of gunfire.

    ¡°Where should we go?¡± Ries asked, her voice tense as they peered through a narrow alleyway, scanning for any sign of danger.

    Viviana hesitated, her mind racing. ¡°We need to find somewhere safe, or somewhere the Imperial Army still holds. They¡¯re bound to act sooner or later.¡±

    ¡°In the middle of the night?¡± Ries glanced back in the direction of the government complex. It was likely occupied by now, a stronghold for Eden¡¯s forces. ¡°Eden¡¯s already taken the palace. He¡¯ll secure the rest of the government next. If we¡¯re going to do something, we have to act quickly.¡±

    Viviana¡¯s eyes hardened. ¡°Agreed. But first, we need to survive the night.¡±

    Suddenly, the night was shattered by the deep, thunderous roar of artillery. The ground beneath them trembled, and the distant horizon was briefly illuminated by the orange glow of explosions. The sound was deafening, a relentless barrage that seemed to come from all directions.

    Viviana¡¯s scowl deepened, her voice barely more than a whisper. ¡°They¡¯re shelling the National Assembly.¡±

    Soon, they reached the outskirts of the city, where the streets grew quieter and the buildings more dilapidated. The once-bustling industrial district now lay in ruin, its factories long abandoned and forgotten. This part of Valyra had been left to decay in contrast to the grandeur of the imperial center. But tonight, its desolation provided the perfect cover.

    Ries and Viviana slipped into one of the larger, more intact structures¡ªa factory that had once hummed with the sounds of industry but was now a hollow shell. The air inside was thick with dust, the floor littered with debris and broken machinery.

    ¡°This should be far enough,¡± Viviana said, her voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space. She glanced around, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. ¡°We can catch our breath here, at least for a moment.¡±

    Ries nodded, though her ears remained alert, twitching at every distant sound. ¡°Even here, you can still hear it,¡± she murmured, referring to the faint but unmistakable rumble of gunfire and the occasional boom of artillery in the distance.

    ¡°He¡¯s not holding back, is he?¡± Viviana said, leaning against a rusted piece of machinery. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes. With a flick of her wrist, she tapped one out and held it between her fingers before offering the pack to Ries. ¡°You smoke?¡±

    Ries shrugged. ¡°Might as well,¡± she replied, taking the offered cigarette. The two women leaned in closer, the glow from Viviana¡¯s already lit cigarette casting a faint light between them as Ries ignited hers.

    For a moment, they stood in silence, the only sound the distant echoes of battle filtering in through the broken windows. The sharp, acrid scent of tobacco filled the air, mingling with the lingering smell of rust and decay.

    Ries took a slow drag, letting the smoke fill her lungs before exhaling a thin stream into the darkness. ¡°Not much for vices,¡± she said quietly. Oh how she now enjoyed the company of tobacco, ¡°but I guess tonight¡¯s an exception.¡±

    Viviana¡¯s expression was distant as she stared into the shadows. ¡°We all need something to keep us going, especially on nights like this.¡± She took another drag, the tip of her cigarette glowing bright for a moment before fading. ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe how quickly everything¡¯s fallen apart. I never imagined Eden would go to such lengths, though.¡±

    Ries took a drag of her cigarette while mulling over her answer. Indeed, it took just minutes for everything to fall apart. Every protocols, every tradition, and every chain of command have been broken or violated in an instant.

    ¡°Eden¡¯s been planning this for a long time. Apparently,¡± Ries replied as she blew the smoke from her mouth, her voice tinged with bitterness. She thought back to the interactions she¡¯d had with him, the polite smiles, the charming words. ¡°Can¡¯t believe he had a friendly face the first time we met¡ªor every time we met, rather.¡±

    Viviana snorted, a humorless sound. ¡°That¡¯s his gift, isn¡¯t it? Making you believe he¡¯s on your side, right up until the moment he puts a knife in your back. A silver-tongued liar.¡±

    Ries exhaled a plume of smoke. ¡°We should¡¯ve seen it coming in hindsight.¡±

    ¡°Hindsight¡¯s a cruel thing, isn¡¯t it? We were too busy dealing with the day-to-day, too caught up in the politics and the power plays to notice the storm brewing right under our noses. Besides, not everyone is daring enough to stage a coup,¡± Viviana chuckled. ¡°It takes a special kind of madness, or ambition, to tear down an empire from within. And Eden¡­ he¡¯s got both in spades.¡±

    Before Ries could respond, the faint sound of footsteps echoed through the factory, cutting through the stillness. Both women tensed, their senses heightened. Out of the darkness emerged an old man, his semi-formal attire worn but dignified, his beard streaked with gray. He was flanked by several others, their clothing simple and worn, suggesting they were from the lower classes.

    Ries'' sharp eyes immediately noticed a common symbol on their arms: an armband with a red base color and a white circle. Inside the circle, was three black arrows pointing to the lower right side.

    The old man stepped forward with a steady gaze as he regarded the two women. "You''re a long way from where you should be," he chuckled, a dry humor underlying his words. "I suppose there''s a connection to the noise coming from the city center?"

    ¡°We could say the same for you. Who are you?¡±

    The man glanced at the armband on his sleeve before answering. ¡°We are the Coalition of Democratic Liberal and Worker¡¯s Party. A united front of free men against the reactionary imperials. Interesting times, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±

    Viviana¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. ¡°The CDLWP, eh? I¡¯ve heard of you. A coalition of workers and liberals, standing against the Empire¡­ an outlawed political gathering.¡±

    The man chuckled, a dry sound that carried a hint of defiance. ¡°Outlawed, yes. But not silenced. We¡¯ve operated in the shadows for too long, watching as the Empire twisted itself into a knot of corruption and tyranny. Ironic that if the empire kept the status-quo, everything might just be fine. For a while longer, that is.¡±

    Viviana crossed her arms. ¡°Stepping into the light in the middle of a coup isn¡¯t exactly a safe bet. Especially when the Empire¡¯s forces are at each other¡¯s throats.¡±

    The old man nodded, acknowledging the risk. ¡°True enough. But revolutions aren¡¯t built on safety. They¡¯re built on the will to change, no matter the cost. The Empire¡¯s on its last legs, and if we don¡¯t act now, the opportunity will pass us by.¡±

    Viviana scoffed, glancing out the window where faint sounds of gunfire echoed from the distant streets. ¡°You¡¯re betting on a very uncertain outcome, old man. And you expect us to gamble along with you? I¡¯m not interested in a fool¡¯s errand that ends with us hanging from a rope.¡±

    ¡°I expect you to see the bigger picture,¡± the old man replied, growing more earnest as he spoke. ¡°If that Home Affairs Minister seizes control, the Empire will become his personal fiefdom¡ª a dictatorship under a bureaucrat¡¯s iron fist. And if the Empress crushes this coup, what then? The same rot that¡¯s festered for decades, the corruption, the exploitation¡ªit all resumes as if nothing happened. No reforms, no justice, just the same miserable cycle.¡± He leaned in closer. ¡°Neither outcome serves the people.¡±

    Viviana¡¯s gaze narrowed. ¡°And what do you think you can do about it? What can a bunch of illiterate, uneducated workers and a few disillusioned upperclassmen with theories do against the might of the Empire?¡±

    Ries, standing off to the side, found herself silently agreeing with Viviana. As much as she despised the current state of the Empire, she knew that uprooting a system that had entrenched itself over centuries wasn¡¯t as simple as lighting a few fires or shouting slogans. These revolutionaries might have noble intentions, but their naivety was glaringly obvious. Change was not a force that could be summoned overnight with fervor alone. It was a slow, grueling grind against institutions that had been set in stone long before any of them were born.

    Ries herself had witnessed the Empire¡¯s bureaucracy at work¡ªlabyrinthine, unyielding, and steeped in tradition. Every day, she was handed piles of paperwork and proposals, rubber-stamping programs that she barely skimmed, let alone understood in full. The bureaucrats were good at drowning people in endless pages of jargon and obscure clauses, making it nearly impossible to discern what was truly happening under the surface.

    And that was how the Empire sustained itself¡ªnot through grand displays of power but through the slow and subtle stranglehold of red tape and tradition.

    But¡­ if it were up to her, she would have chosen gradual and stable change over outright revolution. She¡¯d seen the consequences of rash decisions, of battles fought without strategy or foresight. A reform, even if it moved at a snail¡¯s pace, would at least maintain some semblance of order while dismantling the old guard piece by piece. Change didn¡¯t have to be a firestorm that left nothing but ashes in its wake.

    Yet as much as she wanted to believe in that slower path, Ries knew the revolutionaries¡¯ words held a harsh truth. The Empire was was infested with reactionaries¡ªthose who would do anything to keep things exactly as they were. The aristocrats, the military elites, the deeply entrenched officials¡ªthey would never let go of their power willingly. They would sabotage every reform, twist every law, and use every tool at their disposal to ensure that the status quo remained unbroken.

    Even so¡­

    Ries glanced at the cracked window, where the distant sounds of gunfire echoed through the night. Explosions lit up the sky, turning the city into a battlefield painted in shades of orange and red. Plumes of smoke billowed from burning buildings.

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    Would there be and old guard after this fiasco?

    She returned her gaze to Viviana and the revolutionaries. Viviana was a full-blooded aristocrat, no doubt about that. She may have a soft-spot for half-hearted liberalization and welfare for the commoners, but she also embodied the type that clung stubbornly to power.

    She was arguing with the old man who looks to be increasingly irritated by her flurry of questions and accusations. The old man across from her, weathered by years of struggle, clenched his fists, his patience wearing thin with every word Viviana spat.

    ¡°You speak of freedom,¡± Viviana sneered. ¡°But what you¡¯re offering is chaos. A power vacuum that will drag us all into the abyss. Who do you think will fill the void when you tear down the Empire? Another Eden? Another dictator? Or worse, a dozen warlords tearing at each other¡¯s throats?¡±

    The old man¡¯s face flushed with frustration, his voice rising in response. ¡°And what would you have us do, reactionary? Sit back and let the Empress reclaim her throne, let that Minister rule by decree, or watch as the aristocracy continues to bleed the people dry? You cling to your privilege because you¡¯re afraid of losing it. But we¡¯ve already lost everything!¡±

    The crowd of revolutionaries behind the old man grew restless, a volatile mix of anger and desperation simmering just beneath the surface. They brandished makeshift weapons¡ªpipes, wrenches, and crude blades hammered together from whatever scraps they could find. Their eyes, wild and hungry for change, darted between Viviana and the old man, each accusation fueling their fervor. It wouldn¡¯t take much more to ignite the tension into something far worse.

    Ries could feel the heat rising in the room, and instinct kicked in. Before either Viviana or the old man could escalate further, Ries moved swiftly, stepping between them with a force that demanded attention.

    She was just a Beastman, an outsider who had stumbled into this mess of politics and power plays¡ªbut maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what was needed right now.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± she said, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade. The room fell into an uneasy silence as all eyes turned to her. Viviana¡¯s gaze was skeptical, while the old man was filled with defiance. But Ries stood her ground, undeterred by either.

    ¡°I get it,¡± Ries continued with a rare confidence she never knew she had. ¡°We¡¯ve all got our reasons for being here, and we¡¯re not going to solve every problem in one night. But right now, we¡¯re fighting the same enemy¡ªthe chaos outside, the coup that¡¯s ripping this city apart. We can¡¯t afford to be at each other¡¯s throats when there¡¯s a bigger threat knocking at the door.¡±

    Viviana looked like she was about to retort, but Ries held up a hand to stop her. ¡°Viviana, I know you¡¯re worried about what comes next. About who takes power and what kind of Empire we¡¯re left with. But we can talk about that when we don¡¯t have literal death squads out there out to kill us.¡±

    The old man¡¯s expression softened, though his frustration still simmered beneath the surface. Ries turned to him, her feline ears twitching slightly as she gauged his mood.

    ¡°And you,¡± she said, her voice tinged with a hint of exasperation. ¡°You talk about tearing down the Empire, but what¡¯s your plan for when the dust settles? You can¡¯t just hope that tearing down the old will automatically make things better. You¡¯ve got to be ready to build something real, something that won¡¯t collapse the moment you take your first step forward.¡±

    The old man nodded slowly, albeit reluctantly. There was a glimmer of understanding, a moment where both sides seemed to see each other not just as enemies but as people trapped in the same impossible struggle.

    Ries stepped back, giving them space to breathe. ¡°Tonight, let¡¯s put aside our differences. We¡¯ve got a coup to crush, and if we don¡¯t, none of this will matter. We¡¯ll deal with what comes after when we get there, but right now, we survive. Together.¡±

    The revolutionaries, spurred on by Ries¡¯ words, began to lower their makeshift weapons, though their resolve remained unbroken. Viviana, too, seemed to relent, her expression softening as she recognized the truth in Ries¡¯ plea.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Viviana said with a begrudging nod. ¡°But don¡¯t think for a second this is over. The Empire¡¯s not going to crumble just because we all play nice for one night.¡±

    Ries smirked, her tail flicking with amusement. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡±

    The sounds of gunfire and distant explosions punctuated the night, a violent symphony that underscored the gravity of their situation. Smoke hung in the air, casting an orange hue over the city¡ªa city that, tonight, had become a battleground for the soul of the Empire.

    Ries turned back to the old man, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. ¡°You¡¯ve got a lot of people here. Doesn¡¯t the CDLWP have more members? What¡¯s the extent of your organization?¡±

    The old man straightened, pride gleaming in his weary eyes. ¡°Oh, we¡¯re not just some rabble stumbling around in the dark. The Coalition of Democratic Liberals and Worker¡¯s Party is far more than a handful of rebels waving pitchforks. We¡¯ve got connections in every corner of the Empire. Workers¡¯ cells, intellectual circles, even a few sympathetic ears in the bureaucracy and military. We¡¯ve been building for years, waiting for the right moment.¡± He paused, clenching his fists. ¡°When the order comes, the reactionaries will pay for what they¡¯ve done.¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. She¡¯d never imagined that beneath the surface of the Empire¡¯s well-ordered fa?ade lay such an intricate web of dissent. It was as if she¡¯d been handed a glimpse of an entirely different world, one that simmered beneath the polished veneer of imperial control.

    She chuckled, for the first time feeling a surge of something she hadn¡¯t felt since she¡¯d been thrust into the political arena¡ªhope. ¡°Well then, I think it¡¯s about time we met your big boss. We¡¯ve got a coup to stop, and I¡¯d rather have a chat with someone who knows how to handle a revolution.¡±

    The old man hesitated, as if weighing his options, but there was no denying the fierce determination in Ries¡¯ eyes. Finally, he nodded. ¡°Very well. But keep in mind, the boss isn¡¯t exactly fond of outsiders.¡±

    Ries smirked, shrugging as her tail flicking behind her. ¡°I¡¯m used to it. Lead the way.¡±

    Whether it was the coup threatening the Empire¡¯s future or the constant battle to prove her worth¡ªif not to others, then to herself¡ªshe found an odd solace in moments like this. It was the closest thing to freedom she had ever known.

    She inwardly chuckled. ¡°Let¡¯s go make history, then.¡±

    We prefer independence with poverty to servitude with plenty.

    <hr>

    The air inside the National Assembly was thick with the lingering stench of smoke and gunpowder. The once majestic corridors, lined with ornate columns now bore the marks of recent battle. Bullet holes, scorched walls, and the occasional flicker of dying flames. Yet, despite the assault, the building¡¯s imposing gothic architecture stood defiant, a symbol of the old order struggling to maintain its dignity even in the face of chaos.

    Eden walked with deliberate, unhurried pace, his polished shoes echoing against the marble floors. The Rangers at his side, an elite force within the army, one where he was coincidentally the commander of in his long career.

    He passed by the bodies of Assembly guards¡ªsome slumped against the walls, others sprawled in undignified heaps. Eden barely spared them a glance. These men were the remnants of a regime that had failed to adapt, and now they served as nothing more than a backdrop to his ascension.

    Despite their fate, he could respect their loyalty. They were, after all, following orders. But in this new order, loyalty to the old was nothing more than a death sentence.

    Pushing through the heavy doors, Eden entered the Assembly chamber, once a grand arena where aristocrats debated the laws of the land, even if the Assembly only convenes once every year, if ever. Now, it was a shadow of its former self. The rows of seats, usually packed with the Empire¡¯s most influential, were sparsely occupied. The nobles present were those foolish or brave enough to attend and not flee when the building was besieged by his men, guarded at every exit by his Marechaussee.

    The atmosphere was electric, crackling with a mix of fear, rage, and defiance. As Eden made his way to the podium, the tension in the chamber erupted into a cacophony of jeers and furious accusations.

    ¡°Eden, you bastard!¡± one noble shouted, his face red with rage. ¡°This is treason!¡±

    Another voice rose above the rest. ¡°You think you can just walk in here and seize power? The Empress will have your head!¡±

    Eden paused, taking in the crowd of angry faces. Many of these men had been his allies¡ªor pretended to be¡ªwhen it served them. Now, stripped of their illusions of control, they were nothing more than terrified aristocrats facing the reality of a man they had greatly underestimated.

    He ascended the steps to the podium slowly, each step a beat in the death march of their old world. The shouting dulled, fading into a low murmur of resentment and unease. Eden took his place at the center, framed by the towering shadows of his guards and the defeated figure of the old Speaker beside him.

    ¡°I see some of you still have your voices,¡± Eden began with a calm voice, though each word edged with the authority of a seasoned commander. ¡°Consider yourselves fortunate to still have them.¡±

    The crowd quieted, but Eden could still feel the seething undercurrent of anger. It didn¡¯t bother him. In fact, it energized him. These men were powerless, and they knew it.

    ¡°You cry treason,¡± he continued, his gaze sweeping across the assembly. ¡°But what you see here is not treason¡ªit is survival, a necessity. It is the necessary purging of rot that has infested this Empire. I called for the restoration of the Premiership, a chance to restore balance, and you rejected it. You rejected progress.¡± His voice sharpened, and he pointed accusingly, his finger slicing through their fragile pretensions.

    ¡°You rejected progress because it threatened your comfortable fiefdoms and the Empress¡¯ tyranny. You clung to power, to your titles, and to your outdated traditions, while the Empire withered. You have failed as leaders, and you dare to call me a usurper?¡±

    He let the accusation hang, his eyes scanning the crowd. Some nobles met his gaze with stubborn defiance, others averted their eyes, unwilling to confront the raw truth in his words.

    He gestured towards the empty seats and the few nobles who still dared to attend. ¡°Look at you¡ªclinging to your titles, your estates, your dwindling power as if it means something. You¡¯ve failed to lead, failed to adapt, and now you call me a usurper because I dared to do what you could not. I dared to act.¡±

    Eden paused for a moment. Sweeping his gaze through the assembled nobles, who have now either frozen in intently listening to him. Or outright rejection.

    ¡°I am a patriot,¡± Eden declared, his voice rising with a fervor that sent a shiver through the chamber. ¡°I have fought for this Empire, bled for it on battlefields where most of you would not dare to set foot. I am a loyal servant of the Chaos Dragon Reyvrys, our God, and of his descendants who have ruled this Empire. I am a loyal servant of Her Majesty, the Empress. But even deities need guidance, and even rulers need to be reminded of their duty.¡±

    Eden¡¯s voice grew colder with each word laced with contempt as he continued. ¡°Her tyranny, her disregard for traditions, her obsession with centralizing power at the expense of the provinces¡ªthese are the marks of a ruler who has forgotten her duty. She has stripped autonomy from the lands that once stood as the backbone of this Empire, weakening us all in the process. And what of you?¡± He gestured to the assembly, his eyes sweeping over the faces of those who once wielded influence but were now little more than figureheads. ¡°You, the sycophantic nobility, the ruling class that props her up, that whispers sweet lies into her ears to maintain your cushy positions.¡±

    He shook his head, a mockery of pity playing on his lips. ¡°You have all played your part in this grand theater of decline. You cower behind your titles and riches while the provinces bleed, while the common folk toil under the weight of taxes and laws you pass to secure your own interests. You are the architects of this decay, feeding off the carcass of an Empire you¡¯ve helped to hollow out.¡±

    Eden¡¯s words were met with murmurs of discontent, but none dared to interrupt. The nobles could not deny the truth that cut through their complacency like a knife. Eden had laid bare the ugliness they all chose to ignore¡ªthe Empress¡¯ increasing autocracy, the nobles¡¯ complicity, the provinces¡¯ simmering unrest. He was tearing down the grand illusions they¡¯d built around themselves, and there was no defense against the brutal honesty of his speech.

    ¡°She has betrayed the spirit of the Empire, the very spirit that Reyvrys himself bestowed upon us¡ªthe strength of unity, the honor of tradition, the balance between the throne and the provinces. And you,¡± he pointed once more, his hand shaking with fury, ¡°have enabled her every misstep, every overreach. Your silence and compliance have made you just as guilty.¡±

    Eden stepped back, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows behind him as if his very presence was blotting out the past. ¡°But this does not have to be our end. I am here to correct the course. I offer a path forward¡ªone that respects our traditions, that empowers our provinces, that reinstates the honor of our governance. But it will not happen with Her Majesty¡¯s current advisors¡ªnor with those of you who would rather see this Empire burn than relinquish your hold on it.¡±

    He paused, taking in his breath. His throat had become sore for a moment.

    He continued in a more calm voice. ¡°When the Empress¡¯ reign was challenged by external threats, I was there. When the Empire was threatened from within, I was there. And now, when it teeters on the brink of collapse, I am here, not as a conqueror, but as a liberator. I am the last line between chaos and order, between ruin and rebirth.¡±

    He paused, letting his words sink in. The nobles shifted uneasily in their seats, some unable to meet his gaze. Others looked on, defiant but uncertain, torn between their hatred for Eden and the unspoken acknowledgment of his brutal truths. How dare a mere Earl can order them around? Speak as if he is an Emperor?

    ¡°The Empress¡¯ name is still holy, and I will defend it. But her rule cannot continue on this path of decay. I will not allow it. I will not allow this Empire to die in the hands of those too weak to change. I will not bow to traditions that serve no one but the corrupt. I will not sit idle while our people suffer under a regime that has forgotten its purpose.¡±

    His words hung heavily in the air, each one a hammer blow against the old order. Eden turned sharply to face the Speaker of the Assembly, an elderly noble whose once proud demeanor now wilted under the heat of the moment.

    ¡°I put forth a resolution to restore the Premiership,¡± Eden announced, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. ¡°And an enabling act to grant me the power necessary to rebuild this Empire, free from the chains of stagnation and incompetence.¡±

    The Speaker, struggling to maintain some semblance of control, pointed a trembling finger at Eden. ¡°We do not have a quorum!¡± he spat, his voice quaking with a mixture of defiance and desperation. ¡°This assembly is not legitimate! You cannot just¡ª¡±

    Eden stepped closer, towering over the quaking Speaker. ¡°Legitimacy? Legitimacy is this.¡± He gestured to a nearby gendarmerie, who pointed his rifle directly at the Speaker¡¯s face. ¡°Legitimacy is power. Now, vote.¡±

    The nobles hesitated, paralyzed by fear. But slowly, one hand after another rose, each a reluctant concession to the new reality Eden imposed. The Speaker, surrounded by raised hands, could do nothing but watch, tears of shame in his eyes.

    Eden watched with satisfaction as the last reluctant hands rose, each a silent admission of defeat. It was a pitiful sight¡ªthese so-called leaders, reduced to pawns in his game, scrambling to save their own skins. The Speaker¡¯s quivering frame and the haunted eyes of the assembled nobles were all the confirmation he needed. They were broken, and he was the one holding the pieces.

    ¡°Motion carried,¡± Eden declared as he slammed the gavel, his tone laced with contempt as if pronouncing a death sentence. He turned his back on them, knowing full well that none would dare rise against him now. In their faces, he saw the inevitable¡ªmen trapped between his merciless gendarmerie and the Empress¡¯ retribution, each path leading only to ruin.

    These nobles had placed themselves on the losing side of history, and he had simply accelerated their downfall. Whether his coup triumphed or failed was of little consequence to their fates. If he succeeded, they would serve his regime as hollow remnants of a bygone order. If he failed, they would be the Empress¡¯ sacrificial lambs, condemned as traitors for allowing Eden¡¯s rise.

    Still, there¡¯s some troublesome elements sitting on that chair. He should get some to be shot.

    Whether the rage of heaven or the cries of earth, the roar of the epoch is thundering now.

    <hr>

    A young girl stood watch as another wave of trucks erupted into a fiery explosion. The once orderly convoy of the Imperial Marechaussee was now a chaotic mess of twisted metal and scattered debris. Bodies flew through the air, limbs torn apart, painting the road with blood and body parts.

    She observed the carnage with a cold detachment, her expression unreadable. Disgust simmered beneath the surface, but it wasn¡¯t the death that bothered her¡ªit was the mess. Blood, dirt, and the stench of burning flesh. She shuddered at the thought of even a single drop touching her pristine uniform.

    ¡°Your Majesty!¡± A royal guard officer rushed to her side, dropping to one knee in reverence. ¡°We¡¯ve received a radio call from Lord-Marshal Fountainne. His army is to arrive in two hours to secure the capital.¡±

    The girl¡¯s eyes remained fixed on the horizon, where the last of the smoke curled into the sky like the final gasps of a dying beast. For a moment, she seemed lost in thought, her delicate fingers brushing against her golden hair.

    ¡°Two hours,¡± she repeated softly, her voice a blend of grace and unspoken command that sent an involuntary shiver down the officer¡¯s spine. ¡°Very well. Inform Marshal Fountainne that I expect nothing less than complete order upon his arrival. He is to do whatever is necessary to restore order.¡±

    The officer hesitated, swallowing hard as he gathered the courage to speak. ¡°Your Majesty, if I may¡­ the Marechaussee still profess loyalty. Perhaps we could¡ª¡±

    Her eyes flashed with cold impatience as she turned to him, her presence suddenly as commanding as a thunderclap, there was no need for raised voices. ¡°The Marechaussee,¡± she said slowly, ¡°have pledged themselves to Eden, not to the crown. As of this moment, I decree their dissolution. They are an illegal armed faction, rebels in uniform. Disarm them. Detain them. And let it be known that defiance will be met with swift retribution. Let no one doubt that loyalty to the throne is not an option¡ªit is the law.¡±

    The officer¡¯s face drained of color, and he swallowed hard, the gravity of her words sinking in. The Marechaussee was a cornerstone of internal security, a force long considered untouchable. Yet he dared not challenge her decree. ¡°Yes, Your Majesty,¡± he stammered, bowing his head low. ¡°I will relay your command to Lord-Marshal Fountainne immediately.¡±

    She nodded curtly, dismissing him with a flick of her wrist. As the officer hurried away, she took a deep breath, her mind whirring with thoughts of what came next.

    Eden¡¯s coup had been an affront, a vile attempt to seize power that did not belong to him. The audacity of it, the sheer nerve of a mere minister to think he could wrest the empire from its rightful ruler. Her empire. It was an unholy act, a betrayal of the very foundation upon which their world was built.

    She brushed a strand of golden hair behind her ear, her expression hardening. The only legitimate rulers of the empire were the descendants of Reyvrys, the King of Dragons¡ªthe bloodline that had caused a great catastrophe, shaped the imperial identity, and carried the empire through centuries of glory. Her bloodline. Eden and his ilk were nothing more than opportunists, usurpers clawing at power they could never truly understand or wield.

    For now, she gracefully retreated into her Elysium Palace, a sanctuary of splendor and power nestled twenty kilometers away from the city. The palace and its estates covered a thousand acres of land, complete with subsidiary buildings around it, its parks, and the lush gardens.

    The palace¡¯s inner sanctum was her favorite place¡ªher personal retreat from the world where only a select few were permitted to enter. She made her way through the grand entrance, the heavy doors swinging open to reveal a vast, opulent chamber illuminated by crystal chandeliers. Golden light danced off the polished marble floors, and the air was cool and fragrant with the scent of fresh flowers from the gardens outside.

    Here, in this sacred space, the noise of the outside world faded away. The distant echoes of gunfire, the screams of the dying, and the clamor of battle all seemed like a distant memory. The palace stood as an impenetrable bastion, a citadel of power where the empire''s heart would henceforth beat. It was her fortress, the de facto capital from which she would command her realm and reassert her rightful rule.

    She moved toward a massive window that overlooked the sprawling estate, the city visible as a faint silhouette in the distance. From this vantage point, she could see the faint glow of fires still burning.

    Yet here, surrounded by the splendor of her forebears, she felt untouchable, as if nothing in the world could challenge her claim to the throne.

    The Empress turned away from the window.

    The Dragon shall roar once more.

 Part XIII: The Battle Goes On

    Walking cautiously through the shadowed alleys of Valyra, Ries and the revolutionaries moved with practiced stealth, avoiding patrols and ducking under flickering gas lamps that barely held back the encroaching darkness.

    They finally stopped before a nondescript tavern, tucked between two dilapidated buildings, its exterior faded and unremarkable, blending seamlessly into the city¡¯s weary landscape. It¡¯s the kind of place where most criminal groups come in to resolve disputes and whatnot. A place that often attracts trouble.

    ¡°This is it,¡± the old man said, glancing at Ries and Viviana. ¡°The boss is inside, but don¡¯t expect a warm welcome. She doesn¡¯t take kindly to outsiders, especially those who work for the Empire.¡±

    The old man pushed open the door, and they were immediately greeted by the thick scent of tobacco smoke and the muted buzz of quiet conversations. The tavern¡¯s interior was dimly lit, with a long counter made of dark wood scarred by age and use. A few patrons¡ªtough-looking men glanced up and narrowed their eyes suspiciously at the newcomers.

    At the far end of the room, a woman sat flanked by two guards, her figure partially shrouded in the hazy gloom, though her fiery red hair pierced the darkness like a blazing signal fire. She was dressed simply, her attire reminiscent of a common barmaid¡ªa plain, earth-toned dress with the sleeves rolled up and a threadbare apron tied around her waist.

    Like many others in this room, she looked like a weary commoner. Tired? Perhaps tired with the status-quo.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re the empire¡¯s new pet cat,¡± the woman said, her voice carrying a faint accent, thick with sarcasm and a hint of amusement. ¡°Or have you come to show us how well you can bite?¡±

    Ries smirked, unfazed. ¡°I¡¯m not here to play fetch. And I sure as hell don¡¯t take orders from Eden or anyone else.¡± She pulled out a chair and sat, her feline ears twitching as she settled in, matching the woman¡¯s casual defiance with her own. ¡°I came to see if you¡¯re as smart as they say¡ªor if you¡¯re just another rebel playing dress-up.¡±

    Beneath her composed exterior, however, she was sweating cold. Viviana noticed this but chose not to say a word.

    The woman scoffed, her eyes narrowing with a blend of disdain and scrutiny. ¡°Is that so? Funny, I¡¯ve seen plenty who wag their tails for their masters, trading their pride and people for a seat at the table. A Beastman cozying up to the empire isn¡¯t exactly unheard of. Sellouts, every one of them. It¡¯s just my first time seeing one that openly joined their ranks in the government. How many did you have to please, I wonder?¡±

    ¡°Careful,¡± Ries warned, her voice low and dangerous. ¡°I¡¯m no one¡¯s pet, and I didn¡¯t crawl my way up from the gutter just to bow down to anyone. You think you know me? You don¡¯t. I¡¯m here because I see through their lies, just like you do. The difference is, I¡¯m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure my people aren¡¯t crushed under their heel.¡±

    ¡°Hah. Do you think we aren¡¯t willing to do the same?¡± The woman¡¯s voice sharpened. She leaned forward, her fiery red hair catching the dim light as her eyes bored into Ries¡¯. ¡°We¡¯ve been fighting tooth and nail against them long before you ever stepped into their gilded halls. You think your fancy title means anything here? It doesn¡¯t. Not to me, and not to the people whose blood has stained these streets.¡±

    ¡°How much did that achieve I wonder.¡± Ries couldn¡¯t help but snicker.

    ¡°You know, my father, the founder of the CDLWP was arrested by the ISD. I received the news about his arrest after I came home from work to help my family. I was only fifteen. He was never heard from again.¡±

    ¡°Oh? So you inherited the leadership just like¡­ an empire?¡±

    The woman¡¯s face darkened, her eyes narrowing as if Ries¡¯ words had struck a nerve. ¡°Inherited? No, I earned my place¡ªthrough sweat, through blood, through every betrayal and loss that your empire forced upon us. You think this is some kind of privilege? The day they took my father, I had to step up, not because I wanted to, but because there was no one else.¡±

    The woman¡¯s voice quivered with a mix of fury and grief, and her hands clenched into tight fists on the table. She was slowly losing control of herself, perhaps she went too far?

    Every eye was on them now, the air was thick with unease and a sense of impending conflict. Ries could feel the weight of every gaze¡ªthe revolutionaries¡¯ quiet resentment, the anticipation, the hope that this confrontation would lead somewhere, anywhere but another dead end.

    Viviana, standing just behind Ries, nudged her¡­ ¡°Don¡¯t agitate the people with the numerical advantage,¡± she whispered. ¡°Though I like your attitude.¡± She gives her a wink.

    Ries kept her eyes on the woman, her own composure was ironclad, though her ears twitched in subtle annoyance. Right¡­ she was here to get help in crushing Eden¡¯s coup, not to trade barbs with a revolutionary.

    ¡°Your anger¡¯s justified,¡± Ries continued as she swept the assembled people. ¡°But what¡¯s it getting you? Another year, another lost cause, another leader thrown to the wolves. You¡¯re not the only one who¡¯s been forced into a fight they never asked for.¡± Ries paused, her eyes narrowing as she leaned in, emphasizing her point. ¡°Which is why I¡¯m here.¡±

    The room was silent, the air thick with anticipation. The woman eyed her, then her gaze shifted to Viviana, and then to her again. She knew there was truth in Ries¡¯ words, but pride was a stubborn beast. Her fingers drummed impatiently on the table, the rhythm betraying her agitation.

    ¡°And what makes you think we need your help?¡± she spat.

    Ries had one of her hands to her back. ¡°As I understand it, your group has been stockpiling weapons in secret. Not exactly subtle, but then again, somehow the ISD never figured it out.¡± She let her words hang, allowing the weight of her knowledge to press in. ¡°The only conclusion I can draw is that you¡¯re planning to strike¡ªtake over this city while the imperials are distracted by Eden¡¯s coup. You¡¯re betting everything on a single, desperate gamble. What makes you think you will succeed?¡±

    The woman¡¯s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she glanced around at her comrades¡ªfighters, survivors, rebels who had bled for this cause. Their faces, lined with fatigue and anger, told the story of battles fought in the shadows.

    She scoffed. ¡°We¡¯ll overthrow the Empress, and sweep clean the empire from all its corrupt influence. Then we¡¯ll establish a democracy, a republic, like the one in Avarze.¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow. Avarze. She had heard plenty of stories about that nation¡ªtales of a land without kings or queens, where no one bowed to lords or deities, a republic built on the ideals of freedom and equality.

    To some, it was a beacon of hope.

    To others, it was a lawless mess held together by fragile alliances and constant power struggles.

    To Ries, it always sounded like a fantasy, a far-fetched dream of utopia spun by those who¡¯d never seen the chaos beneath the surface.

    ¡°Avarze,¡± Ries mused, her voice dripping with skepticism. ¡°The land where no one answers to kings, and every man and woman is their own master. Sounds noble in theory, but what about in practice?¡±

    Though she has never been there, it doesn¡¯t take a genius to tell that there¡¯s bound to be more struggle without a central figure of authority. Its just the way of the world.

    ¡°Every man for himself, every faction clawing for power, and no one to hold it all together. It¡¯s one thing to dream of a world without masters, but how do you keep the wolves from tearing each other apart when there¡¯s no shepherd?¡± She continued.

    The woman¡¯s expression hardened, unwilling to concede. ¡°You¡¯re wrong. Avarze is a symbol of what we could be¡ªwhat we should be. People ruling themselves, no chains of nobility, no faceless bureaucrats. Just freedom.¡±

    ¡°Then I guess all you have is theories with no real application.¡± Ries smirked.

    ¡°YOU¡ª!¡± The woman¡¯s voice rose, her anger flaring, but she was abruptly silenced by the old man beside her. His hand gently but firmly rested on her shoulder, his presence commanding without uttering a word. He wasn¡¯t just another face in the crowd¡ªthere was a quiet authority about him. His hair was grayed with age, yet he carried himself with a dignity that suggested wisdom rather than weakness.

    Ries recognized him instantly. She¡¯d seen him countless times in the heart of Valyra¡ªon street corners, in smoky taverns, or at impromptu gatherings where crowds hung on his every word. He was a demagogue, a voice of dissent, and one who had become a fixture of the city¡¯s restless underbelly.

    This was a man who knew how to work a crowd, how to ignite the embers of discontent into a roaring fire. His speeches were fiery, full of grand promises of freedom and justice, but Ries had always suspected there was more calculation behind his rhetoric than pure idealism.

    Without another word, the woman looked to the man and nodded. She seemed to be holding tears. Without another word, she left and disappeared behind a door behind the counter.

    The man then calmly turned to face Ries. ¡°Deputy Minister, it is an honor to meet someone high in the food chain.¡±

    Ries remained guarded as she acknowledges the man. ¡°So am I talking to the real leader of the CDLWP?¡± She asked.

    The man chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and weariness. ¡°Oh, no. I am merely one of the leaders,¡± he corrected. ¡°Young Anya, the one you just berated, is the true leader of the CDLWP. She¡¯s the heart of our cause, even if she sometimes lets her emotions get the better of her.¡± He glanced at the door Anya had disappeared through, his expression softening momentarily. ¡°I represent the liberals, those who still believe in the possibility of reforming the Empire from within, rather than burning it all to the ground.¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow, amusement in her eyes. ¡°Reform? You¡¯re running a resistance group stockpiling weapons, not a lobbying firm.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± he acknowledged, unperturbed by her skepticism. ¡°But reform and revolution aren¡¯t as far apart as people think. We all want change¡ªit¡¯s the methods that differ. Anya, she¡¯s fire and steel, driven by a fury that¡¯s both her strength and her weakness. She wants to see the Empire bleed, and she won¡¯t rest until it does. But there are others, like me, who see the value in strategy, in negotiation, and in knowing when to strike and when to stay our hand.¡±

    ¡°I take it you¡¯re not a commoner, then?¡±

    The man smiled, but he didn¡¯t give an answer. Instead, he turned his back and motion both Ries and Viviana to come with him.

    ¡°I¡¯d love to sit down and discuss the weather, but there¡¯s a coup going on outside, and I¡¯d rather we get down to business,¡± he said, he sounded confident.

    Ries exchanged a quick glance with Viviana, who shrugged, clearly just as wary but willing to play along for now. They followed the man through a narrow hallway that twisted and turned, each step taking them deeper into the bowels of the building. The air grew cooler, the light dimmer, and the muffled sounds of the street outside faded away, replaced by the quiet hum of whispered conversations and the occasional clink of weapons being handled by unseen rebels.

    Was this really a tavern?

    Finally, they arrived at a small, dimly lit room that served as a makeshift war room. A large map of the city was sprawled across a wooden table, marked with red and blue lines indicating troop movements, barricades, and key points of interest. Several men and women huddled around it, their faces hard with determination, their eyes flicking up to assess the newcomers.

    The man gestured for Ries and Viviana to sit, then took his place at the head of the table, leaning against it with a casual air. ¡°This is where we plan our next moves,¡± he said, his tone matter-of-factly. ¡°We¡¯ve got eyes and ears all over the city, and right now, chaos is our ally. But chaos alone won¡¯t win this fight¡ªit has to be directed, controlled.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but who are you?¡± Viviana crossed her arms as she took a seat.

    ¡°Call me Sardine.¡±

    Ries blinked, momentarily thrown off by the absurdity of the name. Even Viviana, who usually maintained her poise, looked visibly taken aback. ¡°Sardine,¡± Viviana repeated slowly with a flat tone, clearly questioning whether she¡¯d heard him correctly. ¡°Like¡­ the fish?¡±

    The man, Sardine, didn¡¯t seem bothered by their reactions. In fact, he seemed amused, as if he were accustomed to the incredulity his name often inspired. He chuckled, a light, unbothered sound that contrasted sharply with the gravity of the room and the seriousness of their discussion.

    ¡°Yes, like the fish,¡± he confirmed, leaning back casually against the table¡¯s edge. ¡°It¡¯s a name that sticks, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Viviana didn¡¯t answer and stared at the map strewn on the table. ¡°What¡¯s your angle here, Sardine?¡± Viviana finally asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was even, almost disinterested, but Ries knew better¡ªViviana was probing, trying to get a read on him. ¡°Let¡¯s assume we¡¯re on the same page, at least for now. What happens after the dust settles?¡±

    ¡°Simple. Whether we like it or not, the army will intervene. And then, the Empress would regain power. What I want is a guarantee of reforms.¡± He said. The others in the table nodded their heads, though some sneered at the thought. ¡°Not just empty promises or token gestures to placate the masses, but real, tangible changes¡ªthings that matter to the people who¡¯ve been trampled underfoot for generations. The old ways aren¡¯t just broken; they¡¯re shattered. And if we don¡¯t fix them now, the next uprising won¡¯t be something the Empire can control.¡± He continued.

    Viviana¡¯s eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing as she tried to gauge the sincerity behind his words. ¡°Reforms are vague, Sardine. What exactly are you hoping to see changed? A new government? Redistribution of wealth? A purge of the nobility?¡±

    Sardine smirked as if waiting for this question. ¡°An end to the unchecked power of the aristocracy, the establishment of laws that actually protect the common people, and a dismantling of the bureaucratic monstrosity that serves only the elite. We want a system that serves everyone¡ªnot just those born into privilege.¡±

    Ries folded her arms. ¡°That¡¯s quite the laundry list. And you really think the Empress, the army, or any of the old guard will just roll over and let that happen?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s where you come in.¡±

    <hr>

    Ries lit a cigarette, the ember glowing as she inhaled deeply, savoring the brief moment of calm. The smoky haze curled around her, mingling with the heavy atmosphere of the dingy room they¡¯d just emerged from. God knows she needed this more than ever.

    In short, the CDLWP was gearing up to launch an insurrection, capitalizing on the chaos of Eden¡¯s coup. They intended to strike swiftly, seizing control of the city¡¯s key points before the army could intervene. If all went according to their plan, they would fortify their hold on the core of the city, claiming it as their stronghold.

    Then, she and Viviana would negotiate with the Empress or whoever is in charge to not harm the revolutionaries and promise reform.

    This was Sardine¡¯s plan, and it most certainly isn¡¯t Anya¡¯s plan. But it was the most sensible one, Sardine argued.

    It was audacious, and it was reckless. They were counting on the fact that the Empire would be too preoccupied with Eden¡¯s power grab to deal with a full-scale uprising. But if the timing was off, if the army moved quicker than expected, or if the people didn¡¯t rise to support them as Sardine believed, it would end in a bloodbath.

    The tavern doors creaked open, and the revolutionaries began to spill out, one by one, into the dimly lit alley. Clad in mismatched coats and hastily donned armbands, they moved with a mix of purpose and uncertainty, rifles clutched tightly in calloused hands. The weapons, a hodgepodge of stolen, smuggled, and salvaged arms, were as varied as their owners.

    Some adjusted their rifles, checking the chambers with shaky hands as they whispered hurried last-minute prayers or steeled themselves with quiet determination. Others exchanged nods and claps on the back, the silent camaraderie of those about to face death together.

    Her gaze swept to Anya, the young leader of the revolutionaries, as she took her place at the front of the group. There was something raw and unrefined about Anya, a fire that burned bright but recklessly, untempered by experience or restraint. For all her youth, she carried herself with the gravity of someone who¡¯d seen more than her fair share of pain, her eyes hardened with the resolve of someone who had no choice but to lead.

    Ries took a long drag from her cigarette.

    Humans¡ªso dependent on one another, drawing strength from shared glances, brief touches, and words of encouragement whispered between clenched teeth. It was unlike her own people, who valued strength and self-reliance above all else. In her tribe, you were expected to stand on your own, and any sign of weakness was an invitation for others to take your place.

    But here, in this human struggle, she saw a different kind of strength¡ªone born from unity, from bonds forged in the fires of shared suffering.

    Taking a deep drag one last time, she threw the cigarette to the road and stomped on it to put it out. Then she slung the rifle on her shoulders. She felt the weight of the rifle settle on her shoulders as she straightened up, for the first time a while, her expression hardened into one of cold resolve.

    She wasn¡¯t here to fight for grand ideals or to pledge herself to any revolution, but she knew where her lines were drawn. For all her disdain for the Empire¡¯s ways, for its hypocrisy and corruption, there was a line between tearing down a system and tearing down everything with it.

    Eden and his ilk sought power for themselves under the guise of reclaiming order. The revolutionaries, in their desperation, were banking on chaos to level the playing field, but the cost of their gamble was written in the eyes of the men and women who followed Anya¡ªfrightened, resolute, but ultimately expendable. There was no honor in this fight, no glory, just the grim reality of survival and the hope that when the dust settled, something better might take its place.

    That is the way of the world, and has been for millenia.

    Ries took one last look at Anya¡¯s back, the young woman standing at the edge of a precipice she couldn¡¯t yet see. She admired the girl¡¯s courage, but courage alone wouldn¡¯t be enough. The streets of Valyra were about to become a battlefield, and there was no guarantee of victory, only the promise of blood and sacrifice.

    With a final glance at the distant rumble of unrest, Ries moved forward, merging into the shadows and out of sight. Her role wasn¡¯t to lead, but to decapitate, to eliminate Eden, and to ensure that whatever madness gripped this city didn¡¯t swallow it whole. She was no revolutionary, but in this twisted game of power, she¡¯d carve her own path¡ªeven if it meant standing against those who believed they were saviors.

    Eden¡¯s coup needed to be stopped. Not for the Empire, not for the Empress, and certainly not for any of the nobles who sat in their gilded halls¡ªbut for the people who would bear the brunt of the destruction. Stability wasn¡¯t an ideal, it was a necessity. And if she had to play the part of the reluctant defender to keep the wolves from devouring each other, then so be it.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with,¡± she muttered under her breath, gripping the rifle a little tighter as she merged with the shadows.

    <hr>

    Eden stood in a makeshift war room somewhere deep within the National Assembly, the very heart of the Empire¡¯s governance now twisted into the nerve center of his coup. The grand marble floors and opulent decor that once spoke of power and tradition were marred by the chaos of hastily arranged maps, flickering lanterns, and the constant flow of messengers reporting from the streets

    Eden¡¯s appointed ministers¡ªhandpicked loyalists, opportunists, and a few outright zealots¡ªhuddled around a large table draped with a map of the city, marked with colored pins and hastily drawn arrows indicating their forces¡¯ positions. They were the architects of this insurrection, the movers of pieces in a deadly game that, if played right, would see them all elevated to the new ruling class. If they failed, well, Eden had made it clear there would be no second chances.

    He was calm, almost unnervingly so, standing at the head of the table with the posture of a man who was in complete control. His eyes darting from one map to another, soaking in every detail. Despite the chaos outside, he seemed utterly unflappable¡ªa man who thrived on this very disorder, who saw in the crumbling walls of the Assembly not ruin, but opportunity.

    ¡°Valyra is ours,¡± he stated, his voice smooth but laced with an undercurrent of steel. ¡°We have the National Assembly, the key districts, and most of the military installations. The Empress¡¯ loyalists are scattered, and the city guard is in disarray. All we need is to hold firm until the rest of the military bends the knee or if the Empress comes to negotiate.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t ideal that we couldn¡¯t capture the Empress,¡± Eden admitted, the faintest hint of irritation slipping into his otherwise controlled tone. He tapped a finger on the map where the palace was marked, a stark reminder of his one significant failure thus far. ¡°But if we hold the city center, the rest of the city will fall in line. It¡¯s only a matter of time.¡±

    Though Eden spoke with conviction, doubt lingered beneath his composed facade. He knew better than anyone the reality of the military¡¯s might¡ªhe had served in its ranks, seen its relentless efficiency up close. The army wasn¡¯t known for subtlety or restraint, it was a blunt instrument of imperial power, and if it decided to reclaim Valyra, it wouldn¡¯t be with diplomacy or negotiations. It would be with overwhelming force.

    Eden¡¯s grip on the city was precarious, and he knew it. Holding the National Assembly and key districts was a significant victory, but it wasn¡¯t the endgame. The army¡¯s response was the real test, and with every passing hour, the uncertainty gnawed at him. How many loyalist forces were regrouping outside the city? How long before the full might of the Empire came crashing down on his fledgling regime?

    His Marechausse, though formidable on its own, wasn¡¯t designed to withstand a full-scale military confrontation. They were an elite paramilitary force, trained for precision strikes, urban control, and maintaining order in assisting police¡ªnot prolonged warfare against seasoned soldiers. The Marechausse was excelled in swift, ruthless action, but against the organized might of the imperial army, they would be outmatched.

    Eden¡¯s strategy had always been to leverage chaos, to seize key points before his enemies could regroup, but now he was faced with the reality that his forces were a stopgap measure at best. They could hold the line for a time, but the longer the standoff continued, the more their weaknesses would be exposed.

    Eden¡¯s eyes moved across the map again, lingering on the palace, the symbol of imperial authority occupied by his men. Capturing the Empress had been his original plan¡ªthe coup¡¯s keystone that would have forced the military¡¯s hand. Without her as a bargaining chip, he was left to contend with the uncertainty of a protracted conflict. Negotiations with the Empress from a position of strength had been his goal, but with each passing hour, the balance of power shifted further away from him.

    ¡°Time is not on our side,¡± Eden muttered, more to himself than to his ministers. Every second wasted brought them closer to the army¡¯s inevitable intervention. He needed to consolidate his hold, fortify his positions, and find a way to break the stalemate before it was too late.

    He glanced at the faces of his ministers¡ªsome loyal, some fearful, all caught in the gravity of the coup. They looked to him for leadership, but he could sense the unspoken questions behind their eyes. How long can we hold? What happens when the army arrives? Eden had no easy answers. They were operating on borrowed time, after all.

    ¡°Uh, sir. You may want to hear his,¡± one of his guards handed him a radio.

    Eden¡¯s face darkened as he listened to the crackling, frantic voice coming through the radio. The words were fragmented, the urgency of the report clear despite the poor reception.

    ¡°This is Lieutenant... of... We are under attack... enemy forces... unable to hold... request immediate assistance¡­¡±

    The message cut off abruptly, leaving only static. Eden¡¯s jaw tightened, the implications of the report sinking in. The news was as bad as it could get, one of his key positions was under attack, and the situation was deteriorating faster than anticipated.

    He turned to his ministers, his expression a mix of anger and frustration. ¡°Get me a full situation report on that position immediately. I want to know who¡¯s attacking us and how bad it is.¡±

    If his forces were already being pushed back, it meant the city was in turmoil. It was clear that the loyalists were regrouping, or worse, that a coordinated counterattack was underway.

    ¡°Prepare the reserve units,¡± he ordered. ¡°We need to reinforce the positions under attack and shore up our defenses. I want every available Marechausse ready to deploy.¡±

    ¡°Sir! It¡¯s a group of armed civilians!¡± One of the ministers nudged at him through the flurry of activity.

    ¡°A group of armed civilians?¡± Eden repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. He stared at the minister, processing the unexpected news. Civilians were the last thing he had anticipated being a serious threat. Insurrections from rival factions, loyalist soldiers, perhaps even remnants of the Empress¡¯ guard¡ªbut not this.

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the minister confirmed, a hint of nervousness in his voice. ¡°Reports are coming in that they¡¯re well-organized and armed. They¡¯ve already taken control of a few key intersections and are moving toward the city center.¡±

    Eden felt a surge of frustration. This was a problem he hadn¡¯t accounted for¡ªordinary citizens picking up rifles and pushing back against his forces. It was chaotic, reckless, and entirely outside the usual rules of engagement. But it was also dangerous. Civilians didn¡¯t fight by military protocol, they were unpredictable, desperate, and often willing to go to extremes that trained soldiers would avoid.

    ¡°Who are they?¡± Eden demanded. ¡°Who¡¯s leading them?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have all the details yet, but it seems they¡¯re part of the CDLWP,¡± the minister said, referencing the clandestine group that had been a thorn in the side of every authority in Valyra.

    Eden cursed under his breath. Just his luck, isn¡¯t it? Blasted commoners and theory crafters! The city was already a tinderbox, and their sudden appearance was like striking a match.

    ¡°Damn fools,¡± Eden muttered, running a hand through his hair. ¡°They¡¯re going to turn this city into a slaughterhouse.¡±

    He turned back to his ministers, recalibrating his strategy on the fly. ¡°Pull our Marechausse units back from non-essential areas. We need to focus on holding the core and securing key government buildings. Let the outer districts burn if we have to, but we can¡¯t lose control of the city center¡ªwe can¡¯t let them pour into the boulevard. And I want those insurgents killed off immediately.¡±

    Eden¡¯s command snapped through the room like a whip, jolting his ministers into action. He didn¡¯t care about the collateral damage at this point. He would maintain his grip on valyra¡ªthe important parts¡ªat all costs. The outer districts were expendable if it meant keeping the heart of the city under his control.

    ¡°Sir, what about the civilians caught in the crossfire?¡± one of the younger ministers asked hesitantly, his voice betraying a sliver of conscience that had no place in Eden¡¯s war room.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t the time to play savior,¡± he snapped. ¡°Anyone who picks up a rifle and joins this rebellion is an enemy combatant. Civilians who stay out of our way will be spared¡ªthose who don¡¯t won¡¯t be our concern.¡±

    ¡°Reinforce the Marechausse with whatever reserves we have left,¡± Eden continued, his mind already two steps ahead. ¡°And find out who¡¯s leading this rabble. I want names, I want locations, and I want them dead before they think they can plant their flag in my city. I authorize the use of indiscriminate artillery fires.¡±

    There was a brief, stunned silence as Eden¡¯s words sank in. The ministers exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared to voice their objections. They knew the implications of his order, entire blocks reduced to rubble, countless lives snuffed out without warning. It was a brutal, unforgiving tactic, one that would turn the streets of Valyra into killing fields.

    ¡°Sir¡­ are you certain?¡± one minister finally asked, his voice tight with unease. ¡°Artillery in the city could¡ª¡±

    Eden¡¯s glare cut him off mid-sentence. ¡°I am not asking for your approval, Minister. I¡¯m giving an order. We cannot afford to show restraint when our enemies are converging from all sides. If the insurgents want to fight a war, we will give them one. And if civilians get caught in the crossfire, that blood is on the hands of those who dared to rise against us.¡±

    He turned to his communications officer. ¡°Get me the artillery commanders. I want those guns trained on any insurgent stronghold that poses a threat to our lines. No hesitation, no warnings. We¡¯ll bury them under the rubble if we have to.¡±

    The officer nodded, swallowing his fear as he relayed the command. Eden¡¯s Marechausse units would be pulled back to defensible positions and entrench themselves around the National Assembly, while the artillery began pounding away at the insurgent-occupied districts. It was a scorched-earth approach¡ªone designed to crush resistance through sheer overwhelming force.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    It also meant he would retreat his forces away from occupying the Imperial Palace and station them all to defend the National Assembly.

    ¡°I am not going to lose this city,¡± he declared. ¡°Not to the loyalists, not to these anarchists, and anyone who stands against me will be made an example of.¡±

    He was playing a dangerous game, sacrificing strategic positions for the sake of consolidating his power around the National Assembly. By pulling back from the Imperial Palace, he was making a calculated risk¡ªone that hinged entirely on his ability to maintain a stronghold at the city¡¯s heart.

    His ministers scrambled to adjust their plans, the weight of Eden¡¯s decision pressing down on them like a leaden fog. The choice to abandon the palace had not been made lightly. It was the very heart of the Empire, a beacon of power and tradition. But Eden was no traditionalist. He was a pragmatist, and pragmatists knew when to sacrifice a queen to protect the king.

    "Mobilize the reserves and reinforce the Marechausse positions," he commanded, turning his attention to a map of the city. "Establish fortified lines around the Assembly. If they want a fight, they¡¯ll have to go through us first. And prepare the radio lines for propaganda broadcasts. We need to break their spirit before they even set foot on the boulevard.¡±

    He could feel the weight of his own desperation. Eden was no stranger to war, but leading a coup against his own empire was a different beast entirely. The loyalist forces were a constant threat, regrouping and probing his defenses. Now, with the insurgents adding to the chaos, the battlefield was more unpredictable than ever.

    Then artillery boomed in the distance. Explosions rattled the room, sending tremors through the building. Dust drifted down from the ceiling, a physical manifestation of the chaos erupting outside.

    <hr>

    Anya watched as the revolutionaries surged forward, their cheers of defiance rising above the cacophony of battle. The gendarmerie¡¯s sudden retreat had left behind critical positions¡ªmachine gun nests, artillery emplacements, and barricades hastily abandoned in the face of the advancing insurgents. It was a victory, albeit a small one.

    She felt the rush of adrenaline as she led the charge, rifle in hand, shouting orders to the ragtag band of fighters who had rallied to her cause. It was her first time leading a charge against the reactionary imperial forces. She felt alive.

    ¡°Hold the line! Secure the barricades!¡± she shouted, her voice hoarse from the smoke and dust that hung in the air. She ducked behind a sandbag as a stray bullet whizzed past, the sharp crack echoing in her ears. The gendarmerie¡¯s retreat had left the revolutionaries in control of key vantage points, and Anya was determined to hold onto them.

    Revolutionaries scrambled in every direction, dragging abandoned machine guns into place and repurposing artillery that had been left behind in the chaos. Men and women alike worked feverishly, some still learning how to operate the cannons and machine guns that had once been wielded against them. They didn¡¯t have formal training, but desperation was its own teacher. If the gendarmerie could use them, so could they.

    ¡°This is our city!¡± Anya bellowed, raising her rifle high, rallying the fighters around her. ¡°We show them what we are!¡±

    The air filled with a roar of approval, the sound of hundreds of voices united in defiance. It sent a chill down her spine¡ªa fierce, unbreakable bond forged in the crucible of revolution

    A young lieutenant hurried up to her side, his face streaked with soot and grime. He couldn¡¯t have been more than nineteen, but his eyes burned with a resolve that belied his youth. ¡°Leader Anya,¡± he said breathlessly, wiping the sweat from his brow, ¡°we¡¯ve pushed them back to the boulevard. They¡¯re entrenching themselves in the National Assembly.¡±

    Anya nodded, her mind racing as she glanced over the smoldering landscape. The National Assembly was their last bastion, a fortified position surrounded by layers of Marechausse and artillery. Taking it would be a monumental task, but it was also a symbolic one. If they could wrest control of the Assembly, they¡¯d hold the institution that is used to oppress them.

    ¡°They¡¯re on the defensive now,¡± Anya said, her eyes fixed on the distant spires of the Assembly. ¡°That means they¡¯re afraid. And fear is our weapon.¡± She turned back to her fighters, determination etched into every line of her face. ¡°Get those guns operational. I want those walls pounded until they crumble. We have the momentum, and we can¡¯t afford to lose it.¡±

    The lieutenant nodded. ¡°But, do we take the Imperial Palace? The reports say they are unguarded, the same goes for the governance complex.¡±

    Anya paused, considering the lieutenant¡¯s words. The Imperial Palace and the governance complex, the twin pillars of power in Valyra, stood unguarded¡ªripe for the taking. But as tempting as it was, seizing those landmarks would stretch her forces thin, and she knew it. Her instinct told her to push forward, to grasp at every opportunity, but the strategist in her knew that overextension could spell disaster.

    She glanced at the lieutenant, weighing her options. The palace, with its opulent halls and the governance complex, would be powerful symbols in their hands. But symbols didn¡¯t win wars; they could just as easily become traps. The Minister had pulled back to the Assembly for a reason, and it wasn¡¯t just fear¡ªit was strategy. He¡¯d bait them with the lure of unguarded prizes, knowing the revolutionaries might overreach.

    ¡°The palace and the governance complex are empty because that Minister wants them to be,¡± she finally said, her voice measured. ¡°They¡¯re honey traps. He¡¯s daring us to split our forces. If we go for those, we¡¯ll be fighting on too many fronts.¡±

    The lieutenant¡¯s brow furrowed, frustration flickering in his eyes. ¡°But Leader Anya, imagine what it would mean for the people to see our flag flying over the palace! The Empire¡¯s heart in our hands¡ªit would break their morale!¡±

    Anya could see his point, and it was tempting. The bright red flag flying over the palace would be a devastating blow to the imperialists. It might even make them immortal in the books of history as the people who flew the flag of the commoners at the top of the food chain.

    She took a deep breath, feeling the tension in her chest. ¡°Morale won¡¯t matter if we¡¯re spread too thin to hold anything,¡± she said.

    The young lieutenant looked deflated but nodded in reluctant agreement. Anya placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. ¡°We¡¯ll get our moment, but not like this. Not when we¡¯re still fighting tooth and nail just to hold the boulevard.¡±

    She turned back to her fighters, raising her voice over the din of battle. ¡°CHARGE!!¡±

    A horde of revolutionaries charged the Marechausse positions, their battle cries echoing through the smoky, debris-strewn streets. The Marechausse, with their disciplined ranks and superior training, responded with cold efficiency. Machine guns roared to life, spitting out a hail of bullets that tore through the front lines of Anya¡¯s forces. Revolutionaries fell in droves, but the sheer momentum of their assault carried them forward.

    The Marechausse were not easily intimidated. Behind sandbags and barricades, they fought with the precision of soldiers accustomed to battle. The well-coordinated volleys of rifle fire and the controlled bursts of machine guns kept the revolutionaries at bay, even as the Marechausse themselves took losses. They were outnumbered but not outmatched, and they made every shot count, picking off the advancing rebels with ruthless accuracy.

    ¡°Hold the line!¡± a Marechausse sergeant shouted, rallying his men. They adjusted their positions, keeping their sights trained on the advancing rebels. The sound of bullets striking metal and stone filled the air, a deafening chorus that threatened to drown out Anya¡¯s command.

    But the revolutionaries had numbers on their side, and their resolve was unbreakable. They surged forward, dragging makeshift shields and using overturned vehicles as cover. A group of them managed to get close enough to lob Molotov cocktails, fiery bottles arcing through the air before smashing against the Marechausse positions. Flames erupted, forcing some of the defenders to fall back or reposition, creating momentary gaps in their lines.

    Anya, in the thick of it, led from the front. She fired her rifle in controlled bursts, picking off targets with an unerring focus. She knew her fighters lacked the training of the Marechausse, but they made up for it with sheer ferocity. These people she commanded had nothing else to lose, they were robbed already by the empire they lived in.

    ¡°Push through!¡± Anya shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. ¡°Don¡¯t give them an inch!¡±

    The Marechausse line wavered under the relentless assault. Some of their soldiers, overwhelmed by the sheer numbers, fell back to secondary positions. The revolutionaries seized the moment, charging into the breaches with renewed vigor. In close-quarters combat, the Marechausse¡¯s disciplined formations began to falter as they were swarmed by the furious tide of rebels.

    One revolutionary, wielding a bayonet affixed to a battered rifle, lunged at a Marechausse officer. The two grappled in a desperate struggle, each fighting for control of the weapon. Nearby, another revolutionary hurled a grenade into a Marechausse machine gun nest, silencing the weapon in a deafening explosion that sent shrapnel flying.

    Anya¡¯s forces were turning the tide, inch by bloody inch. For every revolutionary that fell, another took their place, driven by the unyielding belief that victory was within their grasp. The Marechausse were well-trained, but they were unprepared for this kind of relentless, chaotic warfare.

    ¡°Break their lines!¡± Anya roared, waving her fighters forward. ¡°Take no prisoners!¡±

    The Marechausse, now outnumbered and overwhelmed, began to retreat in disarray, abandoning their positions as the revolutionaries surged through. Anya watched as her fighters pressed on, securing the Marechausse¡¯s former strongholds and repurposing their weapons. For the first time, the boulevard was within their control, and the path to the National Assembly lay open.

    Just then, a deafening roar split the air. A shell struck mere meters from Anya, sending a shockwave that blasted her off her feet. She hit the ground hard, her vision swimming as the world around her erupted into chaos. Dust and debris filled the air, choking her lungs as she struggled to regain her bearings. A ringing sound pierced her ears, drowning out the shouts and gunfire that continued unabated.

    She glanced up, dazed, and saw the bloodied form of a young revolutionary sprawled beside her¡ªhis lifeless eyes staring blankly at the sky. He had pushed her out of the shell¡¯s path, sacrificing himself in the split second between life and death. Her chest tightened, a surge of rage and grief boiling within her. She barely had time to process it, the Marechausse were firing their artillery now, and the battle was quickly turning into a slaughter.

    The enemy¡¯s bombardment was relentless. Explosions rippled across the boulevard, tearing apart the makeshift defenses that Anya¡¯s forces had so painstakingly erected. Chunks of concrete and twisted metal flew through the air, shredding anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the blast radius. Fighters were thrown like ragdolls, their screams lost in the thunder of artillery. The ground shook violently with every impact, and Anya could feel the shockwaves deep in her bones.

    "Get down! Take cover!" she shouted, her voice straining against the ringing in her ears. Her fighters scrambled, ducking behind whatever cover they could find¡ªoverturned automobiles, rubble, anything that might shield them from the onslaught. But it wasn¡¯t enough. The Marechausse gunners were methodically targeting the revolutionaries¡¯ positions, trying to break their will with overwhelming firepower.

    Anya pressed herself against the cold, jagged stone of the collapsed wall, her breath ragged and shallow. The battlefield was a cacophony of chaos¡ªscreams, gunfire, and the relentless, deafening thud of artillery shells pounding their positions. She could barely hear anything over the ringing in her ears, but she knew they were running out of options. Her fighters were pinned down, unable to advance or retreat without being cut down.

    How do they get past the artillery?

    Their seized artillery, their one chance at fighting back, had been obliterated almost as quickly as it had been put to use. The Marechausse had anticipated their moves, zeroing in on the captured guns with ruthless precision. Anya glanced around, searching for anything that could tip the scales back in their favor, but there was nothing¡ªno mages, no air support, just a street littered with bodies and broken dreams.

    She clenched her fists, rage boiling in her chest. They had no choice but to keep moving, to close the distance with nothing but sheer willpower and a blind charge into hell. Anya knew it was madness, but there was no other way. They were going to have to march straight into the fire.

    ¡°Get ready!¡± she barked at her fighters, who were huddled behind makeshift barriers. ¡°We¡¯re moving forward. We advance now or we die here!¡±

    <hr>

    Ries crouched low on the rooftop, her sharp eyes scanning the chaotic battlefield below. The city she once knew was unrecognizable, shrouded in smoke and fire, with Eden¡¯s forces turning Valyra into a warzone. The booming of artillery echoed through the night, sending shockwaves that rattled the crumbling buildings and shattered the fragile peace that had once defined these streets.

    "They¡¯re shelling their own city¡­" Ries thought, her feline ears twitching in irritation as another round of artillery fire lit up the sky, those things are loud.

    She moved swiftly, leaping from rooftop to rooftop with the grace and agility of a predator stalking its prey. The city had become a maze of death, but Ries navigated it effortlessly, staying hidden beneath the dark veil of night.

    Eden¡¯s fortifications were formidable. Trucks blocked entire streets, repurposed as makeshift barricades. Machine gun nests dotted the landscape, their barrels pointed mercilessly at the advancing revolutionaries. The Marechausse had entrenched themselves, turning the National Assembly into a fortress surrounded by layers of barbed wire, sandbags, and heavy weaponry. Eden¡¯s forces were dug in deep, prepared to fight to the bitter end.

    Ries watched as revolutionaries attempted another charge, only to be cut down by withering machine gun fire. It was a slaughter. It came to a point where the revolutionaries were hiding behind the bodies of their dead comrades.

    The artillery, meanwhile, pounded away without mercy, shelling indiscriminately. Buildings crumbled under the relentless bombardment, entire blocks reduced to rubble as the shells tore through brick and mortar. Civilians screamed in terror, caught between two warring factions with nowhere to hide. Eden¡¯s strategy was clear as day: crush any and all resistance through sheer overwhelming force.

    Ries dropped down onto a lower roof, closer now to the entrenched Marechausse. She could hear the chatter of soldiers, the grinding of metal as they adjusted their positions. It was a reminder that his forces were regular soldiers. Disciplined, heavily armed, and well-coordinated. They were prepared for a siege, and the revolutionaries were outmatched.

    She moved closer, keeping to the shadows as the cacophony of battle raged below. The National Assembly loomed ahead, a once grand symbol of governance now warped into a bastion of authoritarian power. Its towering walls and balconies, lit by searchlights and patrolled by armed guards, looked more like a military stronghold than a place of civil debate.

    Ries finally reached an open window near the top of the building, slipping through with the ease of a wraith. Inside, the air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the muffled shouts of soldiers relaying orders. The Assembly¡¯s grand halls, usually bustling with bureaucrats and politicians, were now filled with maps, ammunition crates, and makeshift command posts.

    She landed softly on the marble floor, her ears perked up, picking up every sound. The faint buzz of radio chatter, the clinking of metal as soldiers armed themselves, the distant rumble of artillery firing once more.

    She pressed herself against the wall, scanning her surroundings. The guards were spread thin, focused more on the entrances and the street-facing defenses than the upper floors. It was clear Eden didn¡¯t expect anyone to infiltrate this deeply, not with his forces in such disarray outside.

    Moving swiftly, Ries made her way through the corridors, slipping past armed sentries and ducking behind statues and pillars. She could hear snippets of conversation¡ªexhausted voices, doubts creeping into their words as they questioned their orders and the chaos that had engulfed the city. The morale was fraying, and even Eden¡¯s most loyal soldiers couldn¡¯t ignore the carnage happening just outside these walls.

    ¡®Now where is Eden?¡¯ she thought, her eyes scanning every doorway, every corner. The Assembly was a vast place, but the clamor of activity centered around one area, the main chamber. Ries followed the flow of movement, keeping to the periphery, every step as silent as a whisper.

    She reached a balcony overlooking the main chamber, now repurposed from a parliament area into a makeshift command center. Peering into the chamber, she saw a hive of frenzied activity. Officers clustered around a large table, arguing over maps and troop deployments, their faces strained and weary.

    And then she saw him¡ªEden, standing at the head of the table, his presence dominating the room. His once immaculate uniform was disheveled, his expression a volatile mix of anger and resolve.

    Eden was barking orders, his voice rising above the noise, but even from her vantage point, Ries could see the cracks forming in his composure. He was leaning heavily on his officers, demanding updates, answers, anything that could give him an edge. The arrogance that had once defined him was now tinged with desperation.

    Ries¡¯ tail flicked in agitation. This was the man who had turned the city into a battlefield, who had sacrificed everything to gain more power. What selfish bastard.

    She aimed her rifle, the cold metal grazing against her cheek. Her finger hovered over the trigger, her breath steadying as she locked Eden¡¯s head in her sights. This was her moment. One shot, and it would all be over¡ªno more chaos, no more bloodshed.

    ¡®Focus, Ries,¡¯ she reminded herself, narrowing her feline eyes to a sharp, deadly slit. The air was thick with tension, her senses hyper-aware of every heartbeat, every breath. She exhaled slowly, squeezing the trigger. The rifle cracked, echoing through the vast chamber.

    But in that split second, fate intervened¡ªa lieutenant approached Eden, forcing him to turn his head. The bullet whizzed past, missing him by mere centimeters and slamming into the wall behind. Ries¡¯ tail bristled in frustration, her perfect shot ruined by the random chance of a passing officer.

    Chaos erupted. Officers scrambled, diving behind tables and shouting in alarm. Eden flinched, his eyes darting to the impact point just inches from where his skull had been. For the briefest moment, Ries saw the slightest fear in his eyes, reminding him that he was not invincible. But the moment passed, replaced cold fury.

    Eden flinched, eyes darting to the impact point just inches from where his head had been. Without a second thought, he pulled out his handgun and began shooting at her general direction. Like a soldier who¡¯ve seen countless wars, his movement were robotic.

    Eden reacted like a veteran of countless battles, his movements were precise and unhesitating. He yanked a sleek, silver handgun from his side holster and fired back in her general direction.

    ¡®fuck!¡¯

    Ries pressed herself flat against the balcony railing, shards of glass raining down around her. She could hear Eden barking fresh orders. ¡°Up there! Sweep the upper floors! Don¡¯t let the shooter escape!¡± The guards below rallied, charging up the staircases with weapons drawn.

    Ries¡¯ heart pounded in her chest, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She reloaded the rifle with a fresh magazine and ducked back into the shadows. There was no time to dwell on the missed shot, Eden¡¯s men were closing in, and she had only moments before they would overrun her position.

    Ries peeked over the balcony edge, quickly assessing the guards storming up the stairs. There were too many of them to fight head-on, especially in such tight quarters. She needed to stay mobile, unpredictable¡ªkeep them guessing at every turn. With a deep breath, she pulled back and moved swiftly along the balcony, staying low as the hail of bullets followed her.

    A flash of movement caught her eye¡ªa guard rounding the corner, rifle raised. Without hesitation, Ries took aim and fired, the shot echoing through the darkened chamber. The guard crumpled, but his fall only spurred the others on, their shouts growing louder, more frenzied.

    She kept moving, leaping over fallen beams and ducking under drapes that had once been the pride of the Assembly. She rounded a corner, coming face-to-face with another soldier. She swung the butt of her rifle, cracking him across the jaw and sending him sprawling to the ground.

    More were coming. She could hear their boots stomping and the clatter of weapons. The group of soldiers were now visible to her as they took their positions and opened fire. Forcing her to take cover behind a pillar.

    Ries pressed her back against the pillar, bullets chipping away at the stone and sending shards flying around her. The soldiers had her pinned with relentless gunfire. She could feel the vibrations of each impact, the whine of ricocheting rounds whizzing past her ears.

    She needed a plan¡ªand fast. Spotting a chandelier swaying above the chamber, Ries got an idea. She shifted her aim upward, her eyes locking onto the chain that held the ornate fixture in place. It was a risky shot. She inhaled deeply, steadied her rifle, and squeezed the trigger.

    The chain snapped with a metallic ping, and the chandelier plummeted to the ground, crashing into the makeshift command center below and what used to be a chamber of legislature.

    The debris sent Eden¡¯s command into chaos, papers and maps flying, tables splintering under the weight of the chandelier. The massive impact knocked soldiers off their feet, sowing confusion and fear. Guards were trapped beneath the wreckage, and the lucky few who managed to avoid it stumbled away, disoriented and shouting orders that fell on deaf ears.

    Ries moved swiftly, darting out from behind the pillar. She fired at the scattered soldiers, picking them off one by one. The element of surprise was back in her favor, and she capitalized on it with brutal efficiency. She vaulted over a toppled bench, taking cover behind a column as she reloaded her rifle.

    A sergeant barked orders, trying to rally his men, but his voice was drowned out by the gunfire and the cries of the wounded. Ries shot him in the leg, sending him crashing to the ground, clutching his wound. The remaining guards hesitated with their momentum shattered.

    She sprinted through the chamber, her movements swift and deliberate, taking down any guards that dared to stand their ground. Each shot was precise, even if it didn¡¯t outright killed them, clearing her path forward.

    She vaulted over the wreckage, landing near the center of the ruined command post. The place was barely recognizable, twisted metal and shattered glass littering the floor. The officers were in disarray, their desperate attempts to regroup falling apart as panic set in. Officers who had been shouting orders moments before were now backing away, some fleeing through side exits, abandoning their positions in sheer panic.

    Her eyes flicked across the disarray, searching for the man who had orchestrated this madness. Most of the brass had already evacuated, knowing that their positions were untenable. They¡¯d left the common soldiers to fend for themselves, a final act of cowardice that spoke volumes about Eden¡¯s command.

    Then she spotted him.

    Eden was half-crouched near a collapsed column, his once-commanding presence now reduced to a shadow of rage. His hair was disheveled, and his uniform¡ªonce a symbol of his authority¡ªwas streaked with dust and blood.

    Without a second thought, she rushed towards him and pointed the barrel of her rifle with the bayonet at his neck.

    ¡°It¡¯s over, Eden.¡±

    Eden seemed unperturbed by her actions. Despite the chaos around them, he managed a crooked smile, the kind that reeked of arrogance even in the face of defeat. ¡°So it¡¯s you. My own Deputy Minister, ready to turn assassin. Is this your grand rebellion? To put a bayonet through my throat and call it justice?¡±

    Ries pressed the rifle closer, the blade grazing the skin of his neck. ¡°You don¡¯t get to talk about justice, not after what you¡¯ve done. You turned this city into a slaughterhouse.¡±

    Eden chuckled, the sound harsh and brittle. ¡°And what did you think, Anise? That you¡¯d march into the halls of power, play their games, and come out clean? You¡¯ve tasted the same poison as the rest of us. Just as bloodstained as the rest of us.¡± He glanced at the rifle¡¯s tip, unfazed, almost as if daring her to drive it through. ¡°But go ahead, if you think that¡¯ll change anything. Kill me, and the Empire¡¯s problems don¡¯t just vanish. They¡¯ll eat you alive, like they did to me.¡±

    Eden¡¯s calm was unnerving, a man who¡¯d seen the worst of power and who still believed he understood it better than anyone. ¡°You think you¡¯re different?¡± he continued, his voice low, laced with a bitter resignation. ¡°You think you¡¯re better than me? Sooner or later, you¡¯d become just like the rest of us. Just another beast in this endless game, fighting for scraps.¡±

    His words stung more than Ries wanted to admit, and for a moment, she saw herself reflected in Eden¡¯s eyes¡ªangry, desperate, and caught in a world that seemed to chew up anyone who dared to fight back. But she refused to be swallowed by the same darkness that had consumed him. ¡°No,¡± she said quietly, but firmly, the conviction in her voice growing. ¡°I¡¯m not you. I won¡¯t become you. I¡¯ll never become you.¡±

    ¡°Then prove it,¡± he taunted, leaning forward until the blade almost punctured his skin. ¡°Prove you¡¯re different. Put me down like the dog I am, and let¡¯s see if you can live with it.¡±

    The challenge hung in the air between them, and Ries knew she could end it all right there. But there was something hollow in that victory, something that wouldn¡¯t bring back the lives lost or heal the wounds left in Eden¡¯s wake. Killing him would make her a tool of vengeance, no better than the tyrants she¡¯d always despised.

    Instead, she pulled the rifle back, lowering it but keeping it trained on him. ¡°No,¡± she repeated, her voice steadier now. ¡°I¡¯m not going to give you the satisfaction. You¡¯re not dying a martyr¡¯s death. You¡¯re going to face everything you¡¯ve done and watch as the Empire rejects you. That¡¯s your punishment.¡±

    For the first time, she saw Eden laugh, a bitter, almost relieved chuckle that echoed through the ruined chamber. His laughter was a jarring sound amidst the chaos, and as it subsided, he wiped away the tears that had formed in his eyes. ¡°Should¡¯ve ended it here and then.¡±

    Before Ries could react, Eden moved with an agility that belied his age. He thrust his hand forward, pushing the rifle aside with a forceful shove. In the blink of an eye, he delivered a brutal punch to her midsection, knocking her backward.

    Ries rolled to her side, trying to clear the daze that clouded her vision. The weight of the rifle felt like a leaden burden as she struggled to regain her footing. Eden had already seized a gleaming saber from his side, its blade catching the flickering light of the chamber.

    ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got?¡± Eden taunted, his voice dripping with strained arrogance. He advanced on her, the saber held with a menacing confidence. ¡°You think you can just walk away from this? You¡¯ve no idea what it means to lead, to make the hard choices. You¡¯re as lost as I was, and you¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡±

    Ries steadied herself, her breathing ragged but resolute. She couldn¡¯t let his psychological games distract her. She had to stay focused.

    As Eden closed in, Ries dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding a deadly swipe from the saber. The blade whistled through the air where she had been moments before.

    She lunged forward, using the momentum to swing her rifle in a wide arc. Eden parried the attack with his saber, the clash of metal ringing out in the chamber. Ries gritted her teeth, pushing against the weight of the rifle as she fought to regain the upper hand.

    The chamber echoed with the sounds of their struggle. The sharp clang of metal meeting metal, the shuffling of their feet across the debris-strewn floor.

    Ries gritted her teeth, her eyes fixed on Eden. Her rifle, though heavy and unwieldy, was her lifeline. Each shot she had left could make the difference between victory and defeat. Eden, on the other hand, wielded his saber with a deadly grace, each swing were precise and calculated.

    In a moment of opportunity, Eden feinted to the left, forcing Ries to block instinctively. He followed up with a rapid series of strikes, each aimed to exploit any opening in her defense. Ries ducked and dodged, her muscles straining as she struggled to keep up with his relentless assault.

    Desperation fueled her actions. She pivoted on her heel, using the butt of the rifle to catch Eden¡¯s saber in a defensive maneuver. She felt the impact jolt through her arms, but she pressed on, determined not to falter.

    With a swift motion, Ries swung her rifle¡¯s bayonet toward Eden¡¯s neck. The blade gleamed in the dim light as it sliced through the air, aimed to end things swiftly. Eden¡¯s eyes widened, and he barely managed to deflect the strike with a frantic parry, his saber knocking the blade off course. The force of the impact sent his weapon skittering across the floor, leaving him momentarily defenseless.

    Ries seized the opening, driving forward with her rifle gripped tightly in both hands, her bayonet aimed squarely at Eden¡¯s heart. She could feel the weight of the moment, the tension between them sharpened to a deadly point.

    Eden¡¯s survival instincts kicked in. With a last-ditch burst of strength, he grabbed the rifle and twisted it away from his chest. The bayonet missed its mark by a hair, scraping along the fabric of his uniform, tearing a shallow gash across his side. He grimaced, a mix of pain and raw determination as he used the momentum to roll away from Ries and scramble back to his feet.

    They grappled for control of the rifle, Eden¡¯s hands desperately working against Ries¡¯ iron grip. She pushed, muscles straining as she fought to angle the bayonet back toward him. But Eden was relentless, using every ounce of his strength to shift the rifle and wrest it from her grasp. With a final, brutal shove, he sent the rifle clattering away across the chamber floor.

    Before Ries could react, Eden surged forward, his fist connecting with her midsection in a powerful strike. The blow knocked the wind out of her, forcing her to stumble backward. She barely managed to keep her footing, as she narrowed her eyes at the man.

    Eden¡¯s face was twisted with fury and desperation, but Ries wasn¡¯t about to back down. She wiped the blood from her split lip and met his gaze with a fierce resolve. ¡°You wanted this? Fine.¡± Her voice was a low growl, filled with the ferocity of her Katzen heritage.

    She closed the distance, moving with the agile grace of a predator. Eden swung wildly, but Ries ducked under his fist and delivered a punishing jab to his ribs. Eden grunted, the impact forcing the air from his lungs. He retaliated with a sharp elbow to her side, but Ries absorbed the hit, her body coiling with raw energy.

    Ries went on the offensive, raining down a series of blows, each one more precise than the last. She moved like a whirlwind, her fists connecting with a brutal rhythm that kept Eden on the defensive.

    Eden saw an opening when Ries momentarily overextended her punch, her momentum carrying her slightly off balance. With a swift move, he sidestepped and drove his knee into her side, exploiting the gap in her defense. The impact was sharp and jarring, forcing Ries to gasp as pain shot through her ribs.

    Sensing an opportunity, Eden followed up with a vicious uppercut, his knuckles crashing into her jaw and sending her staggering backward. He pressed his advantage, closing the distance and throwing a flurry of punches, with each one aimed to overwhelm her.

    Ries, gritting her teeth, ducked under his next swing, ignoring the throbbing pain in her side. She pivoted sharply, using her feline agility to slip behind Eden and deliver a brutal elbow to the back of his head. He stumbled, and Ries didn¡¯t hesitate, she grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back, and slammed him against the nearest pillar with a resounding crack.

    Eden groaned, the fight slowly draining from him as his body slammed against the cold, hard stone.

    Ries held firm, tightening her grip and forcing his face against the pillar. ¡°You¡¯re done, Eden,¡± she spat, her voice rough with exertion. ¡°No more running, no more lies. You¡¯re going to face what you¡¯ve done.¡±

    Eden snarled, still struggling despite his battered state. ¡°Make me.¡±

    Eden¡¯s snarl turned into a howl of pain as Ries brought the jagged piece of debris down with all her might, the sickening crack echoing through the ruined chamber. His body convulsed as he tried to pull away, but the damage was done¡ªhis ankles shattered under the brutal impact, rendering him immobile.

    Ries tossed the stone aside and loomed over Eden, who now lay on the ground gasping for air. The mighty figure who once commanded armies was reduced to a broken old man, barely able to muster the strength to lift his head. There was no more fight left in him¡ªonly the raw, visceral reality of his defeat.

    ¡°It ends here, Eden.¡±

    Eden¡¯s breaths were ragged, his body broken, but his spirit remained defiant. Somehow, he still managed a twisted smile. ¡°Then do it,¡± he rasped, his voice filled with a hollow bravado. ¡°End me.¡±

    Ries crouched and retrieved the saber that had clattered to the ground amid the chaos. As she rose, her gaze fell on the medals pinned to Eden¡¯s chest, tarnished but still gleaming with the hollow promises of honor and valor. She scoffed, the irony almost too bitter to swallow.

    ¡°Were these medals for your unmatched talent in hiding behind your soldiers? Or maybe they¡¯re for your exceptional skill in turning cities into graves,¡± she sneered, twisting the saber slightly as if testing its weight.

    Eden let out a choked, mirthless laugh, his expression unfazed even with the blade so close to his life. ¡°Bravery, leadership, chivalry,¡± he spat, the word like a challenge, as though daring her to prove him wrong.

    Without a warning, and with swift motion, Ries sliced the saber across Eden¡¯s throat. Blood spurted, hot and vivid against the dim light of the ruined chamber. Eden¡¯s eyes locked onto hers, refusing to look away even as his life drained away.

    He met his end with the same stoic defiance that had marked his every action¡ªa final, silent act of resistance

    Ries stood over him, breathing heavily as the realization of what she¡¯d done sank in. Eden was dead, and with him, the empire¡¯s most notorious architect of chaos and cruelty. Perhaps a million souls cried out in unison at that moment, a silent chorus of the forgotten and the wronged, echoing through the ruins of Valyra.

    Clenching the bloodied saber, she turned away from Eden¡¯s lifeless body. The weight of his death was heavy, but it was not a burden she regretted.

    The Empire¡¯s struggles were far from over. The real battle would begin now, in the aftermath of Eden¡¯s reign, as the city and its people grappled with what had been done in the name of power and ambition.

    But for the first time in a long time, Ries felt a sliver of hope for the future. Eden was gone, and with him, the shadow that had loomed over the empire, suffocating it with his schemes and ruthless grasp for control.

    And that was enough. For now.

    Ries took a deep breath, the air sharp and cold, tinged with the faint smell of smoke and the distant cries of a city on the edge of rebirth. For once, it wasn¡¯t the familiar burn of tobacco filling her lungs.

    ¡°Change is in the air, it seems.¡±

    But elsewhere, the fight was far from over.

    <hr>

    Anya clutched her rifle as another deafening barrage shook the earth, the relentless roar of artillery drowning out the shouts and cries of her fellow revolutionaries. The city¡¯s skyline was torn asunder, smoke billowing from every corner as the Marechausse unleashed hell. Debris rained down like a storm, choking the air with dust and the acrid stench of gunpowder.

    They had been so close¡ªso close to striking a decisive blow against the Empire, to seizing the heart of Valyra and tearing down the symbols of oppression that had loomed over them for so long. But now, all that remained was chaos and ruin. Anya could barely keep her footing as another shell slammed into a nearby building, sending a cascade of rubble crashing onto the streets below.

    ¡°We can¡¯t hold them!¡± one of her comrades yelled, his voice ragged and filled with despair. The barricades they had hastily erected were crumbling under the unyielding assault, and the once-determined faces around her were now etched with fear and exhaustion.

    Anya¡¯s gaze swept over her battered fighters¡ªmen and women who had risked everything for a sliver of freedom, who had dared to stand against the might of the Empire. She had promised them a better future, had vowed that their sacrifices would not be in vain. But now, staring into the maw of annihilation, she wondered if it had all been a futile dream.

    They can¡¯t fall now¡­ not when they are this close to freedom!

    Anya braced herself, expecting the deafening roar of artillery to resume at any moment. But the next barrage never came. The sudden silence was jarring, eerie, as if the battlefield itself was holding its breath. She peered through the smoke and rubble, her heart pounding, waiting for the Empire¡¯s cannons to fire again. But instead, a new sound filled the air¡ªthe low, menacing rumble of engines.

    Out of the darkness, headlights pierced the smoky night, followed by the steady advance of trucks and soldiers. Rows of Imperial troops spilled out, marching in disciplined lines, their boots striking the ground with a chilling, rhythmic precision. Anya¡¯s breath caught in her throat as she watched them move, not towards her ragged fighters, but directly to the grand, battered fa?ade of the National Assembly.

    They didn¡¯t even glance at the revolutionaries, stepping over bodies and debris with cold indifference, as if the rebels were nothing more than an afterthought¡ªan inconvenience. The sight filled Anya with a bitter rage.

    ¡°Even now, they don¡¯t take us seriously,¡± she muttered, gripping her rifle tighter.

    The Empire¡¯s soldiers moved with a purpose that was unmistakable¡ªthey were here to seize control, not to fight. Their true target wasn¡¯t the revolutionaries at all but the treasonous Marechausse and the rogue Minister who had seized the city and dared to defy Imperial command.

    A soldier broke away from the formation and approached her, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his helmet. The armband around his arm read ¡®MP¡¯¡ªMilitary Police.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± he said, his tone formal but firm, ¡°please surrender your weapon.¡±

    Anya¡¯s eyes flicked to the soldiers pushing into the Assembly, then back to her own fighters¡ªexhausted, outnumbered, and utterly spent. They had fought tooth and nail, but it had never been enough. They had failed to even seize control from the underequipped Marechausse. What hope did they have now against the Empire¡¯s disciplined forces?

    Slowly, with every ounce of defiance drained, she lowered her rifle and placed it on the ground. The clatter of metal against stone echoed in the tense silence. One by one, her fighters followed suit, their weapons clattering to the ground in reluctant defeat.

    The rogue Minister who had promised a new dawn lay dead, his ambitions reduced to nothing but empty echoes in the grand halls of the National Assembly.

    Anya¡¯s insurrection, born from the desperate cries of commoners yearning for change, had been obliterated in the crossfire of the Empire¡¯s power struggle, and were left with nothing but the bitter taste of failure.

    Above them, the sky began to lighten, the first rays of dawn creeping over the jagged silhouette of Valyra¡¯s ruined skyline. The city, scarred and broken, lay in the aftermath of a battle that had claimed so much and promised so little in return.

    The clock tower, a silent witness to the night¡¯s chaos, chimed the hour, its mournful bells ringing out through the quiet streets. Six o¡¯clock.

    The beginning of a new day, and yet for many, it felt like the end of everything.

 Part XIV: Empress Eternal

    When Ries emerged from the front entrance of the National Assembly, her suit smeared with dust and blood, and a bloodied saber clutched tightly in her hand, she was met with the cold stare of dozens of rifles aimed directly at her.

    The tense silence was broken only by the faint crackling of fires burning in the distance and the low murmur of soldiers barking orders. The army had arrived in full force, reclaiming what was left of the city.

    ¡°Hold! Identify yourself!¡± a commanding officer barked in his sharp and authoritative voice.

    Ries halted, raising her hands in a gesture of compliance, though her grip on the saber remained firm. ¡°Anise,¡± she said with a steady voice despite the exhaustion weighing her down. ¡°Deputy¡ªActing Minister of Home Affairs.¡±

    There was a moment of hesitation among the ranks. Soldiers exchanged glances, unsure of how to proceed. Was she one of the traitors? Was she a survivor? They weren¡¯t told the full specifics.

    The officer, a man in his mid-thirties with the insignia of a captain, took a cautious step forward. His gaze lingered on the blood-soaked saber, then flicked back to Ries. ¡°Acting Minister?¡±

    Ries¡¯ expression twisted with irritation, her patience worn thin by the day¡¯s relentless trials. Whether it was the exhaustion of battle, or because of the decisions she had made, or simply the grating tone of the officer¡¯s voice, she couldn¡¯t be sure. But she was done playing games. Her tail flicked sharply, a visible sign of her growing annoyance, and she dropped her hands, refusing to keep them raised any longer.

    ¡°Enough of this,¡± she snapped, her tone cutting through the air like the crack of a whip. ¡°Get me to your commanding officer.¡±

    The soldiers around her stiffened, unsure of how to react to the sudden shift in her demeanor. The officer hesitated, caught off guard by her defiance. It wasn¡¯t often that anyone spoke to the military with such a tone, let alone someone covered in blood and dust from the chaos they had just subdued.

    The officer stepped forward, visibly weighing his options, before nodding to a nearby sergeant. ¡°Escort her,¡± he ordered, his voice begrudgingly compliant. ¡°But keep a close watch.¡±

    Ries wasted no time on pleasantries or gratitude, marching ahead with the sergeant at her side. The streets were a graveyard of shattered stone and twisted metal. Soldiers moved like shadows among the ruins, their faces obscured by the smoke still lingering from the night¡¯s chaos.

    Upon entering the tent, she was greeted by a tall man wearing an austere military uniform. The insignia on his shoulders and the tricorne on his head suggested he was an important figure.

    Ries squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze. ¡°Acting Minister of Home Affairs, Anise,¡± she introduced herself, offering a respectful nod.

    The man regarded her with a cool, appraising look before offering a nod of his own. ¡°Lord-Marshal Fountainne, commander of the Imperial Army under direct orders of Her Majesty,¡± he said, his voice as sharp and disciplined as his appearance.

    There was a pause, a brief but palpable tension between them. The Lord-Marshal¡¯s eyes swept over her disheveled appearance¡ªdust-covered suit, blood-streaked face, and the saber still clutched in her grip. For a moment, it seemed as though he might question her presence, challenge her authority in the space dominated by military might. But instead, he simply gestured toward a chair at the table.

    ¡°Minister,¡± he said evenly, ¡°I assume you have a very compelling reason for being here. Let¡¯s hear it.¡±

    Ries glanced at the offered chair but remained standing, the saber still firmly in her grip. She didn¡¯t have time to waste on formalities. ¡°What happens now?¡±

    The aftermath of Eden¡¯s rebellion was still painfully visible. His forces had been decimated¡ªmost killed, the rest captured, their weapons and banners discarded like worthless relics of a failed coup. His body now lay unceremoniously in the back of an army truck, stripped of power and significance.

    But his death hadn¡¯t undone the damage, the city center lay in ruins, the National Assembly riddled with bullet holes, and artillery encampments looming ominously over the skyline, like monuments to violence.

    Fountainne folded his arms, his expression grim as he outlined the state of affairs. ¡°The army¡¯s priority is to restore order and eliminate any remaining resistance. But beyond that¡­¡± He paused, his eyes narrowing as he met Ries¡¯ gaze. ¡°It¡¯s up to what¡¯s left of the civilian government to reassert control until Her Majesty returns.¡±

    Ries frowned. ¡°Reassert control? With what? Hopes and dreams? How many ministers do we even have left?¡±

    ¡°Out of the twelve ministers, only four survived,¡± Fountainne replied, his voice edged with frustration. ¡°The rest were either killed in the chaos or fled before the dust settled. We¡¯re operating on fumes here.¡±

    Ries let out a bitter laugh. ¡°And I suppose I¡¯m one of the lucky ones, right? Eden¡¯s Deputy Minister, the last piece of his twisted legacy. So that makes five of us left.¡±

    Fountainne nodded. ¡°Five ministers to pick up the pieces of a shattered government. We¡¯ve got to make do with what we have.¡±

    After exchanging a few words with Lord-Marshal Fountainne, Ries stepped out of the tent and surveyed the devastated boulevard. By now, a crowd had gathered. children played among the rubble, heedless of the dangers, while parents and soldiers looked on with a mix of concern and weariness. Journalists were already scribbling furiously in their notepads, capturing the first drafts of history. Construction crews had begun scoping out the wreckage, preparing to rebuild what had been lost.

    As Ries turned to leave, a heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder. She spun around, her instincts flaring, and found herself face-to-face with a grotesquely overweight man.

    ¡°Deputy Minister Anise, isn¡¯t it?¡± the man wheezed, she could feel the sour breath of his. ¡°Director Elias Veron of the ISD.¡±

    ¡°The ISD, huh?¡± Ries said coolly, masking her disgust. ¡°What, did you guys sleep through Eden¡¯s coup?¡±

    Veron chuckled, a low, oily sound that made her skin crawl. His eyes narrowed, and his hand began to slide lower, creeping across her back. ¡°Careful with your words, Minister. I know what you really are.¡±

    Ries went rigid. Did he know? Had the ISD uncovered her secret? She¡¯d always been careful, but she forgotten about attempting to change her ACC. The realization sent a chill through her. Veron¡¯s grin widened, sensing her unease.

    ¡°Meet me tonight at the ISD office,¡± he said, his voice dripping with smugness, before walking away, leaving Ries stunned and seething.

    As she stood there, lost in thought, another hand gripped her shoulder. She snapped back to reality, startled as a familiar voice shouted in her ear. It was Viviana Livingstone.

    ¡°Did Veron give you a hard time?¡± Viviana asked, concern etched on her face.

    Ries blinked, still processing the encounter. ¡°Huh? Y¡ªyeah, you could say that.¡±

    Viviana scoffed bitterly, crossing her arms. ¡°Of course he did. That bastard thinks he¡¯s untouchable just because he¡¯s the ISD Director.¡± She glanced at Ries, her expression serious. ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t be alone with him.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    Viviana¡¯s face twisted in disgust. ¡°Because he¡¯s a predator. He preys on the vulnerable¡ªchildren, young girls. He¡¯s a monster hiding behind his title.¡±

    Ries¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°You¡¯re kidding.¡±

    ¡°I wish I were,¡± Viviana muttered, pulling out a box of cigarettes. She offered one to Ries, who accepted it gratefully, needing something to steady her nerves. ¡°We¡¯re having a Special Session soon with all the surviving ministers. Veron will be there, of course¡ªhungry for more power and the fact he¡¯s technically a civilian official. He¡¯s made enough enemies, though. People who know what he really is. No one would blink if he were¡­ dealt with by the army for ¡®conspiring¡¯ with Eden.¡±

    Ries studied Viviana, she still hasn¡¯t lit her cigarette. ¡°You¡¯re suggesting we get rid of him?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s just say, in times like these, accidents happen. The Empire¡¯s better off without him, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±

    Ries took a long drag of her cigarette, exhaling slowly as she considered the proposal. The director just became infinitely more dangerous now that she knew he knew her identity. It wouldn¡¯t be a bad thing if he were to slip down the stairs.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± she finally said, flicking the ash carelessly, as if already discarding the thought of the man. ¡°I¡¯d say it¡¯s time to clean house.¡±

    <hr>

    Her Imperial Majesty Lyria Victoria Reyvrys Des Valeries, Empress of Valyrya, Queen of Valyra, of Raede, of Arran, of Myst, of Kristall, of Rym, of Weter, Apostolic Queen of Chaos, of Reyvrys, of Excellsia, of Dorgon, of Elvire, of Scorpia, of Aquisius, of Rozafyr, Queen of Chaos, and so forth. Archduchess of Valyra, Archon of Chaos, Dragoness of Valyra, Sovereign of the Celestial Throne, of the Chaos Order, of the Crimson Dragon.

    These were but a few of the titles that defined the young Empress upon her ascension. Yet, despite the weight of her lineage, Lyria''s early life was largely unremarkable, especially for someone of her standing.

    Unlike her more politically active brothers and the ambitious nobles of her era, Lyria showed little interest in the Empire¡¯s affairs, often voicing her disdain for the burdens of her status.

    Her upbringing was fairly standard for an Imperial Princess, having stellar records throughout her days in the Academy, constantly being in number one ranks, and showed interest in machinery during her time in University.

    Following the sickness her father protracted and the ensuing power struggle between her brothers for the throne, the Princess would take more prominent role in Imperial politics. Most notably was she endorsed the ¡®Imperial Group¡¯, a group of centralists and populist think-tankers, forward-thinking nobles, and scientists; and offered greater support for women¡¯s right within the Empire.

    Now with the powers of a Sovereign and the old guard decimated, Empress Lyria¡¯s rule was now teetering on the brink of absolute power. The crown, once burdened by the weight of tradition and the meddling of aristocrats, now shone unchallenged. Eden¡¯s coup, though violent and nearly catastrophic, had unwittingly cleared the path for her ascension.

    Most of the noble class lay dead, victims of Eden¡¯s bloody purge, and those few who had dared to side with him were being hunted, dragged from their estates, and swiftly executed for treason. It was the perfect pretext¡ªone that allowed her to reshape the Empire without the fetters of dissent.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    As Lyria leaned forward on the railing of a balcony in the Elysium Palace, her gaze fell on the distant city center, where pillars of black smoke curled into the sky. She couldn¡¯t suppress the smile that crept across her lips.

    Yes, it was only the beginning.

    The beginning of a new order.

    Lyria¡¯s fingers brushed against the cool glass bottle at her side, filled with a dark, fizzy liquid that seemed to mirror the tumultuous sea of thoughts swirling in her mind. With a slow, deliberate motion, she poured the soda into a crystal glass, the effervescent bubbles rising like tiny, fleeting moments of calm amid the storm she had unleashed upon her Empire.

    Raising the glass, Lyria took a slow sip, savoring the sharp sweetness that danced on her tongue.

    There was still work to be done. The Empire, despite her newfound power, was far from perfect¡ªa tangled mess of corruption, outdated traditions, and festering unrest. There were problems that remained untouched, festering like open wounds, but she was confident they would be resolved in due time. After all, empires weren¡¯t built in a day.

    It would take more than a little effort¡ªan ocean of elbow grease, really. Every cog in the imperial machine would need to be oiled, every dissent silenced, and every loyalist reminded of where their loyalties truly lay.

    But in the end, her enemies fell one by one, the old and defiant were cast aside, and she alone, the Empress Eternal, stood triumphant amidst the ruins of those who dared oppose her.

    She coughed as she took a much larger sip of her soda.

    ¡°Still better than alcohol, I suppose.¡±

    <hr>

    The Special Meeting convened in the main hall of the governance complex, where the emptiness of the vast room was only magnified by the echo of footsteps and the uneasy shifting of chairs. Six figures sat scattered among sixteen seats, a somber testament to the chaos that had swept through the Empire¡¯s leadership.

    Ries scanned the room, taking in the faces of those who had survived this purge of power. There was Minister Callahan of Health, his eyes sunken and tired. Beside him sat Minister Nay of Foreign Affairs, he looked more confused than tired, though, evident by his clean appearance.

    Across from them sat Minister Talbott of Agriculture, nervously tapping his fingers on the table, unable to mask his discomfort. He kept glancing around as though expecting someone else to take the lead.

    Beside Ries was Viviana Livingstone, the Minister of Public Works, whose steely demeanor was only betrayed by the occasional twitch of her clenched jaw. She was visibly seething, though her anger was directed not at their circumstances but at the man sitting directly across from her.

    The sixth seat was occupied by Elias Veron, the bloated and insufferably smug Director of the Imperial Security Directorate. He lounged in his chair with an air of casual arrogance, fingers steepled as though he were observing a minor inconvenience rather than a government on the brink of collapse.

    Minister Callahan cleared his throat, breaking the silence. ¡°We¡¯re down to five ministries and a Director who, frankly, has no business sitting at this table.¡± His voice wavered, frustration bleeding into his words. ¡°Our leadership structure is in shambles. One of us doesn¡¯t even know what the hell we¡¯re doing here. So, what¡¯s the plan? How do we move forward?¡±

    Ries glanced at Viviana, who returned her look with a knowing nod. Clearing her own throat, Ries leaned forward, her voice slicing through the murmurs of uncertainty. ¡°Ahem.Gentlemen, I¡¯d like to propose a new agenda item: the conduct of Archduke Elias Veron.¡±

    Viviana quickly raised her hand. ¡°Seconded! It¡¯s time we take stock of what we¡¯re dealing with.¡±

    Director Veron¡¯s smug expression faltered, his eyes narrowing as he sensed the shift in the room¡¯s atmosphere. ¡°If you have a serious proposal, Madam Acting Minister, then let¡¯s hear it. Otherwise, let¡¯s not waste time with theatrics.¡±

    Ries ignored his dismissal and continued reading from the document in her hand, her tone growing bolder with each accusation. ¡°I accuse Director Veron of collaborating with treasonous elements within his administration, undermining the Empire and the Crown¡ª¡±

    Veron cut in, his voice laced with growing panic. ¡°This is outrageous! There¡¯s no formal motion¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªand betraying the Crown to reactionary forces¡ª¡±

    ¡°This is a blatant overreach of your authority!¡± Veron¡¯s voice rose, trying to drown her out.

    ¡°¡ªand actively conspiring to¡ª¡±

    By this point, chaos erupted. Ministers banged on the table, shouting over one another as the Director¡¯s protests grew louder. Veron desperately tried to regain control, his words lost in the cacophony of accusations and clattering wood. Ries, undeterred, glanced at Minister Talbott, who sat frozen in his seat, eyes darting nervously between the warring factions.

    Unfortunately for him, he sat on a seat where Eden usually sat, as the de facto leader of the Ministers.

    ¡°Talbott,¡± Ries barked, her voice sharp and commanding. ¡°Push the button.¡±

    Talbott hesitated, in his face a mask of indecision. He looked from Veron, who was now half-risen from his seat, to Ries, who was staring him down with intensity.

    ¡°Talbott!¡± Ries snapped again, her patience wearing thin. ¡°Push the button under the table. Now!¡±

    Both Ries and Veron shouted at the bewildered minister, their voices overlapping in a frenzied tug-of-war for Talbott¡¯s compliance. Sensing the tide turning against him, Veron bolted from his chair, making a hasty move towards the door.

    ¡°Push the fucking button, man!¡± Ries yelled, leaping onto the table, her hands scrambling to reach Talbott¡¯s side. Her fingers slammed repeatedly into the hidden mechanism beneath the surface.

    At that moment, the room erupted into chaos. The heavy wooden door swung open violently, slamming into Veron¡¯s face just as he reached it. He staggered back, clutching his nose, his smug composure shattered in an instant. A squad of guards, led by their captain, stormed into the room, weapons drawn and eyes fixed on their target.

    Everyone in the room stood, their attention riveted on the unfolding scene. The captain marched straight to Veron, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him backward. Veron struggled, shouting in vain. ¡°You can¡¯t do this! I¡¯m no traitor! This is a farce!¡±

    The captain sneered, unfazed. ¡°Looks like the only farce here is your freedom. You¡¯re under arrest for conspiracy and treason against the Empire.¡±

    As the guards tightened their grip on Veron, the ministers watched in silence, a mix of satisfaction and relief playing across their faces.

    ¡°Come on, then,¡± Ries said, her voice cutting through the tension. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with. We¡¯ve got a lot to clean up.¡±

    The captain of the guard, holding the now tied up Veron, turned his attention to Ries, awaiting further instructions. ¡°What¡¯s your command, Acting Minister?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Right, just as we planned. Get him out first.¡±

    The guards began hauling Veron out, his muffled protests drowned by the clanking of their boots echoing in the hallway. Ries signaled for the ministers to follow, her eyes cold and resolute. This was not a time for hesitation; the plan had been set in motion, and there was no turning back.

    Ries walked at the head of the group, the ministers trailing behind her like shadows, each lost in their thoughts but united in purpose. The plan was simple, brutal, and necessary. Veron had to die.

    They stepped out of the main building, the warm afternoon sun casting long shadows across the courtyard. Waiting for them was a nondescript military truck flanked by armed guards, its once-proud imperial emblem now faded and barely visible. Veron was shoved inside, his muffled curses cut short by a swift gag.

    Ries turned to the ministers. ¡°This doesn¡¯t leave the room,¡± she said, her voice barely above a whisper but carrying a weight that made each of them nod in silent agreement.

    Nay, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, let out a bitter laugh, his earlier fear giving way to a dark sense of satisfaction. ¡°The bastard had it coming. We¡¯re doing the Empire a favor.¡±

    Viviana, the Minister of Public Works, folded her arms and nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve arranged for the route to be clear. No patrols, no witnesses. This will be over quickly.¡±

    Minister Talbott glanced nervously at the truck. ¡°We¡¯re really doing this, aren¡¯t we? Executing a director without trial... it¡¯s dangerous.¡±

    Nay, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, cut him off with a snort. ¡°Oh, spare me, Talbott. Would you rather let him slither back into his office? Or better yet, let him near your daughter?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡±

    Ries stepped forward, her patience thinning. ¡°Enough! We don¡¯t have time for this.¡± She gestured sharply toward the truck. ¡°Get in.¡±

    Reluctantly, Talbott climbed inside, followed by the others, the truck¡¯s engine rumbling to life as they pulled away from the governance complex. The city outside passed in a blur of dilapidated buildings and abandoned streets, each turn taking them further from the center of power and deeper into the seedy underbelly of Valyra.

    The streets were eerily quiet as they wound through the back alleys and deserted thoroughfares of the city, the guards ensuring there would be no prying eyes. The Empire¡¯s citizens were well used to looking the other way when military trucks rolled through, and today was no different.

    As they approached their destination, a rundown warehouse on the city¡¯s outskirts, the truck slowed to a halt. The guards moved swiftly, yanking Veron out and dragging him toward the warehouse, his muffled cries echoing in the empty lot.

    Inside, the warehouse was dim and cold, the scent of rust permeated the room. The guards¡ªwho were coincidentally Army soldiers and officers¡ªquickly set to work, dragging a plain wooden table into the center of the room. They placed a single chair in front of it, the setup resembling a makeshift court with no judge or jury, just the inevitability of Veron¡¯s fate.

    Veron was forced into the chair, his wrists bound tightly to the armrests. He glared defiantly at his captors, though the sweat on his brow betrayed the fear that simmered beneath his bravado. Ries stood in front of him, flanked by the ministers and the many soldiers that surrounded them.

    ¡°I demand my rights!¡± Veron barked, his voice a frantic rasp as he wrestled against his restraints. He bit at the gag in his mouth, tearing it partially free. ¡°Get this off me! This is illegal¡ª¡±

    Ries calmly pulled a folded document from her pocket, the faint rustle of paper silencing the room. Veron¡¯s eyes darted to her, rage and desperation etched into every line of his face. ¡°You!¡± he spat. ¡°You¡¯re nothing but a fraud, a liar! You¡¯ve got no right¡ª¡±

    ¡°Madam Acting Minister, let¡¯s get on with it!¡± an officer snapped, pounding the table to emphasize his impatience. The room was a cacophony of muttering voices, anger and disgust bubbling beneath the surface.

    Ries unfurled the document, her eyes never leaving Veron. She smirked, enjoying the sight of him thrashing helplessly against his fate. ¡°Let me read this,¡± she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

    Veron lunged forward, but the soldiers held him fast, his threats now reduced to furious, incoherent curses. Ries raised the paper and began to read aloud, her voice clear and unwavering.

    ¡°Elias Veron, Director of the Imperial Security Directorate, you are accused of conspiring against the Empire¡ª¡±

    ¡°Traitor!¡± someone shouted from the back, echoing the sentiment that rippled through the assembly.

    ¡®¡ªwith the intent to subvert its sovereignty and forward the interests of foreign powers¡±

    ¡°Foreign powers? Who? The fucking moon?!¡± Veron sneered, his arrogance flaring one last time.

    Ries continued, unflinching. ¡°You are also accused of one thousand two hundred forty-seven counts of rape, of sexual deviancy, and acts of perversion against children as young as five.¡±

    The room erupted. Ministers and soldiers alike pounded the table, some shaking their heads in disgust, others shouting obscenities. The atmosphere was thick with rage and contempt, pure hatred.

    ¡°Rapist!¡± ¡°Monster!¡± The words bounced off the warehouse walls, growing louder, more vicious.

    Veron, now reduced to a desperate, sputtering mess, hurled insults back at them¡ªslurs, vile accusations, anything to drown out the truth. But no one listened anymore.

    Ries stepped closer, waving the document in his face. ¡°Would you like to read the list yourself?¡± she taunted, shoving the paper close enough for him to glimpse the names¡ªdozens of names, victims of his.

    ¡°Rapist!¡± ¡°Rapist!¡± ¡°You are a Rapist!¡± They shouted.

    ¡°You are accused of treason, and anti-Reyvrys behaviour,¡± Ries declared. ¡°The court finds you guilty, and sentences you to be hanged.¡±

    The room erupted into chaos as shouts of anger and disgust filled the air, the mob¡¯s fury now fully unleashed. The ministers and soldiers jeered at Veron, taunting him with fists and firearms, their collective hatred a damning verdict that needed no further explanation.

    ¡°No! Please! Don¡¯t hang me!¡± Veron¡¯s desperate plea went under deaf ears. The monster who once commanded fear was now reduced to a pitiful figure, thrashing helplessly as soldiers dragged him toward the open field outside. His cries, raw and unfiltered, only amplified the disgust of those present, fueling the mob''s contempt.

    ¡°Look at him now,¡± Minister Nay scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. ¡°Begging for his life like the scum he is. Serves him right.¡±

    Ries watched impassively as Veron¡¯s pleas turned to sobs, the reality of his imminent execution sinking in. A hastily erected gallows stood outside the warehouse.

    Veron was shoved onto the platform, his knees buckling as he was forced to stand beneath the noose. The noose dangled above him, swaying slightly in the breeze, a silent reminder of his sins. Veron¡¯s eyes darted frantically, searching for any sign of mercy, but all he found were cold stares and evil smiles.

    ¡°Please¡­¡± Veron whimpered, tears streaming down his face. ¡°I¡¯ll do anything¡­ just don¡¯t¡­¡±

    The soldiers, unmoved by his pathetic display, grabbed him roughly and forced the coarse rope over his head. He tried to pull away, but the soldiers held him firm, shoving him back toward the center of the platform.

    Veron¡¯s final pleas fell on deaf ears, his pitiful sobs drowned out by the indifferent silence of the onlookers. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the tension hanging as thick as the rope around his neck.

    Then, without a second thought, the lever was pulled. The trapdoor opened beneath Veron¡¯s feet, and his body dropped with a violent jerk. The snap of the rope was sharp, final, cutting through the air like a knife. Veron¡¯s body hung there, lifeless and still.

    Ries stepped closer. ¡°Well, there¡¯s that,¡± she said flatly, her voice void of any satisfaction or remorse. She turned to the soldiers who stood nearby, watching in silence. ¡°Burn him,¡± she ordered, ¡°I don¡¯t want a single trace of him left.¡±

    The guards exchanged quick glances before setting to work, hauling Veron¡¯s limp body from the noose and dragging it toward a makeshift pyre set up outside the warehouse. They doused the heap of wood and cloth with oil, the pungent scent filling the air as they prepared to erase Veron¡¯s presence from the world entirely.

    Ries turned to the other ministers who looked more relieved after the whole ordeal. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to work, shall we?¡±

 Part XV: The Morning After

    In the weeks following the coup attempt, life in the Empire seemed to return to a tenuous semblance of normalcy¡ªor at least, that¡¯s what the pamphlets and dime novels hawked by street vendors imported from distant lands would have you believe.

    Following the coup, the Empress effectively dissolved the whole government, leaving the Empire to have virtually no government to speak of. The Imperial Court now stood as the sole authority, with no ministers or bureaucrats to guide the ship. Just like that, Ries was left without a job.

    The Empress had promised that the dissolution was only temporary, a necessary measure to restore order and cleanse the state of traitorous elements. Then came the arrests, executions, and show trials that felt more theatrical than justice. It became stale once the third, or maybe the fourth person, was hanged publicly.

    The media stoked the flames, with newspapers printing fresh rumors daily, feeding the endless gossip that buzzed through the streets. Everyone had an opinion, and nobody knew what would happen next.

    For Ries, the chaos outside was almost welcome. She viewed the collapse of the government as a strange kind of liberation. For the first time in ages, she was free from the burdens of politics, free from the constant demands and expectations of a job she never wanted in the first place. She was now the normal, usual Ries.

    This time, with much more money than before.

    She bought herself a three-story house just a few blocks off the boulevard¡ªa comfortable place with a family-run caf¨¦ next door that filled the air with the smell of fresh bread every morning. A newly constructed subway station was just a few minutes¡¯ walk away, adding a touch of modern convenience to her newfound quiet life.

    Ries nodded approvingly as she stared at a large painting on the wall of her third-floor office. She had been meticulously recreating her old office from the governance complex, though with a few personal touches that made the space her own.

    Before the Empress had dissolved the government, Ries had taken the liberty of ¡®rescuing¡¯ some of the files in her own office and Eden¡¯s, carting boxes of documents home to avoid them being lost in the chaos. She¡¯d also helped herself to a few choice trinkets from the late Eden¡¯s office. Stacks of neatly organized folders lined her shelves, mingling with old books, and personal trophies hung on the wall.

    Ries wasn¡¯t entirely disconnected from Imperial politics. Former ministers¡ªsurviving ministers¡ªwould often drop by her home, exchanging gossip over tea or reviewing documents they¡¯d also salvaged from the chaos.

    Her living room had become an unofficial meeting spot for the remnants of the old government, a quiet hub of whispered conversations and shared grievances. Papers were spread across tables, stamped with seals of defunct offices.

    As for Asumi, she had left for the Western Kingdoms, hailed as a Hero by the local populace. Her bravery and selfless efforts during the chaos had earned her more than just gratitude, they¡¯d turned her into a symbol of hope.

    During the coup¡¯s violent climax, Asumi had been at the hospital, recovering from her own injuries, when a stray artillery shell had torn through a wing of the building. Without a moment¡¯s hesitation, she leapt into action, using her healing magic to save everyone caught in the blast. Thanks to her quick thinking, not a single life was lost that day.

    Well, besides the thousand of unfortunate people literally fighting outside the hospital.

    She recently left to go rejoin her comrades at the Hero¡¯s party, presumably continuing her fight against the demons.

    For Ries, the pace of life had slowed considerably. She leaned back in her plush chair, enjoying the rare moment of stillness. The soft morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow that bathed her office in tranquility. It felt like a sanctuary, because it actually is.

    Ries had woken up late, the kind of late that once would have filled her with anxiety back then. But today, there was no frantic rush, no endless stream of meetings or paperwork to tend to. Instead, she found herself savoring the peace, still wrapped loosely in her nightrobe, her hair slightly tousled from sleep, her tail wrapping around her. It was a luxury she hadn¡¯t afforded herself in a long time.

    She sipped her coffee, the rich aroma mingling with the morning air, and glanced out the window at the bustling streets below. Despite the upheaval, life went on. People hurried to their jobs, vendors shouted their wares, children played and went to school. She noticed the unusual amounts of automobiles parked near the sideway, perhaps it was time for her to buy one for herself? It¡¯s not like she¡¯s poor now.

    She absently traced her fingers over the papers scattered on her desk, old reports from her time at the governance complex, and Eden¡¯s confiscated documents. These were interesting, there were medical reports detailing Eden¡¯s secret affliction.

    According to the documents, Eden had contracted a rare and insidious disease, one that suffocated its victims slowly over time. The illness wasn¡¯t well understood, it ate away the Mana within the body, draining it steadily until nothing remained.

    For anyone reliant on Mana, which was practically everyone in the world, it was akin to having the air slowly choked out of them. The disease left its carriers weak, gasping for breath, as if their very life force were being stolen away, drop by agonizing drop.

    There was no known cure, and the symptoms worsened progressively. Each breath became a struggle, each day a battle against the inevitable. The thought of such a fate sent a chill down Ries¡¯ spine. Mana, for most people, was like oxygen¡ªa vital component of life that fueled the arcane, strength, and even basic vitality. Without it, one was nothing more than a husk, condemned to a slow and torturous end.

    She shrugged and set the document aside, reaching for her coffee and lighting a cigarette. Cigarettes were more to her taste these days¡ªeasier, less cumbersome than cigars, and far gentler on her lungs.

    She took a slow drag, savoring the bitter taste as the smoke curled lazily around her, drifting toward the open window behind her desk.

    With a flick of her wrist, she tapped the ash into a small, ornate tray. A relic she¡¯d ¡°acquired¡± from Eden¡¯s office, a piece of his legacy now serving a humbler purpose.

    She liked the irony of it.

    The faint chime of her house bell echoed through the quiet, pulling her from her thoughts. A convenience she¡¯d quickly grown to appreciate as technology progresses, no matter how absorbed she was in her work, she could always hear it, even from three floors up.

    She let out a sigh, quickly running her fingers through her hair to tame the sleep-tousled strands before making her way downstairs. The sound of her bare feet on the polished wood steps was soft.

    She reached the door, pausing for a moment to take a final drag of her cigarette, exhaling slowly before opening with her free hand.

    The door swung open to reveal an unexpected visitor¡ªa Siren, but not the kind that haunted sailors'' nightmares. This one was land-bound, with spiky, reptilian wings folded awkwardly behind her, feathers twitching nervously. Her messy green hair framed a youthful face etched with anxiety, her posture remained slumped and uncertain. Most striking of all was the iron collar around her neck, which clearly indicted her social standing.

    The Siren¡¯s eyes flitted nervously, unable to maintain contact. ¡°Um¡­ is this the residence of Madam Anise?¡± she asked, her voice timid, almost a whisper. Ries noticed the slight tremor in her tone, there was none of the hypnotic allure that her kind was known for. This one¡¯s spirit was subdued.

    Ries studied the girl for a moment, taking another casual drag before flicking the cigarette butt onto the street. ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± she said, leaning against the door frame. ¡°What is it?¡±

    (A/N: so how did I do? This is my first time drawing a full body character.)

    ¡°Um¡­ I am a slave of the late Master Eden¡­ I had nowhere to go when he died, until I found out you are his¡­ Deputy Minister?¡±

    Ries'' expression shifted from mild annoyance to guarded curiosity as she took in the Siren¡¯s nervous demeanor. She couldn¡¯t help but feel a twinge of pity, but she masked it behind a cool exterior.

    ¡°Eden¡¯s slave, huh?¡± Ries mused, her eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°I knew he had his fingers in some dark corners, but I didn¡¯t expect¡­ this.¡±

    The Siren¡¯s face flushed with embarrassment, her wings twitching nervously. ¡°No, no, it¡¯s not like that!¡± she stammered, shaking her head frantically. ¡°I was never¡­ I mean, he didn¡¯t keep me for¡­ personal reasons. I was just a bartender, assigned to keep tabs on The Faeries. It was his hideout¡ªwhere he held his secret meetings, away from prying eyes.¡±

    Ries crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe as she digested the information. ¡®Yet another piece of Eden¡¯s secret¡­¡¯ It didn¡¯t surprise her that Eden had stationed people to watch over his empire of secrets, but the thought of it now felt like an unwanted reminder of how far his influence had spread.

    ¡°And now that he¡¯s dead, you¡¯re left to fend for yourself,¡± Ries nodded with understanding. ¡°Bet no one from his little circle cared to look after the loose ends.¡±

    Or the fact that they are dead by now.

    The Siren nodded, her eyes downcast. ¡°I don¡¯t have anywhere else to go. The others scattered when the Imperial Court started sniffing around. I only stayed because I didn¡¯t know what else to do.¡± She glanced up, locking eyes with Ries, there was fear and fragile hope in her eyes. ¡°I thought maybe you could help me¡­ just until I figure things out.¡±

    Ries sighed, she didn¡¯t ask for this¡ªdidn¡¯t asked for any of Eden¡¯s baggage to land on her doorstep, especially not now when she was finally trying to carve out some peace. But she couldn¡¯t ignore the girl¡¯s plight, the vulnerability etched into her every word and movement. It was clear she had nowhere to turn, and in some odd way, she saw a reflection of herself in the Siren¡¯s lost eyes.

    ¡°You can stay,¡± she finally said with a firm voice. ¡°But this isn¡¯t a charity. You¡¯re going to earn your keep around here. Do the housework, keep things in order, and help me with whatever I need. Think of it as a job, you¡¯ll be my maid, and I¡¯ll pay you. Fair deal?¡±

    The Siren¡¯s wings perked up slightly, and a tentative smile broke through her nervous demeanor. ¡°That sounds more than fair. Thank you, Madam Anise. I promise, I¡¯ll do my best.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Ries nodded, stepping aside to let her in. ¡°Get settled, then. I¡¯ll show you around.¡±

    The house felt a little less empty now, its once-silent halls now filled with the faint rustling of wings and footsteps. Despite her own reservations, Ries couldn¡¯t deny the small comfort of another presence, that¡¯s another two-sets of hand ready to do cleaning around here.

    Ries gestured towards the living area, where sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting warm patterns on the floor. ¡°That¡¯s the main room,¡± she said as she let out another smoke. ¡°Kitchen¡¯s through there, and the bathroom¡¯s down the hall. Your room is upstairs at the end of the second floor. It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯s yours now.¡±

    The Siren nodded, her eyes scanning the space as if trying to memorize every detail. ¡°It¡¯s lovely¡­ cozier than I¡¯m used to.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got plenty of work for you, but I¡¯m not a slave driver. Rest when you need it. Just stay out of my office unless I say otherwise. Got it?¡±

    The Siren nodded quickly, her green hair bouncing with each eager movement. ¡°Yes, Madam Anise. I won¡¯t disappoint you.¡±

    Ries smirked slightly. ¡°Don¡¯t call me ¡®Madam.¡¯ Just Anise is fine. I¡¯m not much for titles.¡±

    The Siren nodded, a hint of relief softening her nervous expression. ¡°Yes¡­ Anise.¡±

    The Siren bowed her head respectfully before retreating upstairs to settle into her new room, the quiet sound of her footsteps fading into the background.

    Alone again, she took a deep drag of her cigarette before crushing the cigarette into a nearby tray with a twist, the smoldering end extinguishing with a soft hiss. Her tail twitched and writhed restlessly behind her.

    She let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of the morning settle on her shoulders. Perhaps it was the new presence of the Siren, or the ever-present shadows of Eden¡¯s legacy, but Ries felt an itch under her skin.

    She needed to move, to clear her head, even if she was still in her night robe, unwashed and half-awake.

    She shrugged off the thought, grabbing a long brown coat from the rack by the door. It was well-worn and heavy, falling to her knees and doing just enough to cover her disheveled state. She pulled it around herself and tied it at the waist.

    As she moved toward the stairs, she hesitated, realizing she hadn¡¯t even asked for the Siren¡¯s name. She shrugged it off, there would be time for introductions later¡ªif the girl stuck around.

    She called out, ¡°I¡¯m going outside for a bit! Make yourself at home, but don¡¯t touch anything in my office!¡± The words echoed through the quiet house, yet she didn¡¯t wait for a response.

    The Siren didn¡¯t need to know where she was going. Hell, Ries didn¡¯t even know herself. She just needed a moment away, even if it was just to wander aimlessly down the block and let the city¡¯s buzz drown out her thoughts.

    With that, she stepped outside, letting the door click shut behind her as she welcomed the cool morning air. The sky was still brightening, and the streets were waking up with the familiar sounds of trams, distant chatter, and the morning rush. She took a deep breath, letting the fresh air wash over her, clearing away the stale smoke and lingering tension.

    <hr>

    It was honestly weird, strange even, walking around like this. wearing a coat on top of a night robe, the fabric brushing against her bare legs. She felt like she was exposed, like she was walking nude in the streets. She caught herself glancing at strangers to see if they were staring.

    But no one seemed to care, the city was too busy with its own affairs to notice her awkward attire.

    Eventually, she found herself at the edge of the Valyran Grand Park, a sprawling oasis in the heart of the city and the largest public park in the entire Empire. It was a place of manicured lawns, towering trees, and winding pathways that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. On any given day, the park was filled with families, vendors, and artists peddling their crafts. It was as if she stepped inside a forest in the middle of an urban sprawl.

    She stepped onto the gravel path, her boots crunching softly beneath her. The park was already bustling with activity despite the early hour of the morning; joggers jogged, and a few children chased each other under the watchful eyes of their nannies. Couples strolled hand in hand, lost in private conversations, while the occasional street musician strummed a tune on their violins or guitars.

    She found a quiet bench beneath an old oak tree, its gnarled branches spreading wide like an ancient guardian of the park. She sat down, letting the cool breeze brush against her face, her coat flapping slightly in the wind.

    ¡°This is nice¡­¡± she mused, savoring the rare moment of stillness. The soft rustling of leaves, the distant murmur of voices, and the occasional chirp of a bird created a symphony of subtle sounds that were soothing in their own quiet way, it was peaceful here. For once, she didn¡¯t have to be the Deputy Minister or Eden¡¯s reluctant successor. She was just¡­ Ries.

    She watched as a squirrel darted across the path, pausing briefly to nibble on a fallen acorn before disappearing up a nearby tree. The scene was almost idyllic, a reminder of simpler times she barely remembered. Being surrounded by the gentle embrace of nature felt like a brief reprieve from the political quagmire that had become her life¡ªa chance to catch her breath, if only for a little while.

    Ries hadn¡¯t noticed the figure sitting beside her until a voice broke the serene bubble she¡¯d cocooned herself in. ¡°A lot on your mind?¡±

    Startled, she turned to face the stranger, her heart skipping a beat. Her flowing white hair, a white robe that covered most of her body, and her bright blue eyes. Azazel. Of all the places, of all the times¡­

    ¡°You¡ª¡±

    ¡°Miss me?¡± Azazel¡¯s lips curled into a faint smile.

    Stolen story; please report.

    Ries couldn¡¯t hide her frustration as memories of Alyrus came flooding back¡ªespecially that infuriating moment when she¡¯d returned from playing golf with the Governor, only to find that Azazel had vanished without a trace. Azazel, who she¡¯d specifically paid to be her bodyguard, had left her in the lurch when she needed her the most.

    ¡°Where the hell have you been?¡± Ries demanded. ¡°I paid you to stick by my side, not to go off on some mysterious errand.¡±

    Azazel¡¯s smile remained, calm and infuriatingly unbothered. ¡°You looked like you had things well in hand. Besides, I had other obligations that required my attention.¡± She said it as if disappearing without warning was perfectly reasonable.

    Ries gritted her teeth, her tail flicking beneath her coat in irritation. ¡°Other obligations? You were supposed to be my bodyguard, not some wandering ghost who shows up whenever she feels like it.¡±

    ¡°And besides,¡± she continued. ¡°What other obligations does an adventurer like you do that is so important than a client who you¡¯re supposed to protect?¡±

    Azazel leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, her posture relaxed. ¡°I know, I know. But I was recalled to the West for a while.¡± She glanced at Ries with a knowing look, as if she expected Ries to understand. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m back now. And it seems you¡¯ve been handling yourself quite impressively in my absence.¡±

    ¡°Recalled to the West? You live in the Empire. What the hell do you mean, ¡®recalled¡¯? Who do you think you are, some noble with secret duties?¡±

    ¡°Um. Don¡¯t worry about that. That¡¯s not something you have to worry about.¡±

    ¡°Like hell, it isn¡¯t,¡± Ries snapped, crossing her arms as her tail lashed beneath her coat. ¡°I hired you because I needed someone reliable, not someone who vanishes on a whim.¡±

    Azazel sighed. ¡°I get it. I tried contacting you through the orb I gave you, but I didn¡¯t get a response.¡±

    Right yeah, the mention of the orb brought back a bitter memory. Ries remembered it all too well¡ªlost when she was ambushed by that Palushian. An ambush that could have been avoided if Azazel had been there, doing her job.

    ¡°Yeah, the orb,¡± Ries muttered, her voice tinged with anger. ¡°Which got destroyed when I was attacked. An attack that wouldn¡¯t have happened if you were around to protect me like you were supposed to.¡±

    ¡°I know, and I¡¯m sorry. But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Whatever.¡± Ries cut her off, her patience wearing thin. ¡°Don¡¯t expect me to try hiring you again. You¡¯re unreliable, and I can¡¯t afford that.¡±

    Azazel hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°Right¡­ But we still need to find out what happened to the real Anise, remember?¡±

    Ries fell silent, the reminder hitting her like a cold splash of water. The real Anise was out there somewhere¡ªor worse, she was gone for good. Until they found out what happened, Ries¡¯s position was precarious at best, a lie built on top of a mystery.

    But does it matter anyway?

    Her brief stint as Deputy Minister has come to a crashing end after the attempted coup and the dissolution of the government. She doesn¡¯t see herself being forced into another important position anytime soon.

    Besides, she can life off the rest of her life with all that money she accumulated. Barring taxes, her calculations had shown she¡¯d be set until old age¡ªassuming she managed her finances wisely and stayed out of trouble. A quiet, anonymous life wasn¡¯t so bad when the alternative was the cutthroat game of politics.

    ¡°Right¡­ you¡¯re right,¡± she admitted. ¡°But I¡¯ve got my own things to handle. If you find anything about the real Anise, do let me know.¡±

    Ries stood up, straightened her coat from the wind. Azazel rose as well.

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Azazel tilted her head, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. ¡°You know, you¡¯re starting to sound like a real government official. All business-like.¡±

    Ries blinked, taken aback. Did she? The realization unsettled her more than she cared to admit. She¡¯d always thought of herself as the outsider, the reluctant player forced onto a stage she wanted no part of. But somewhere along the way, the language of bureaucracy and authority had seeped into her speech, changing her without her even noticing.

    ¡°Do I?¡± Ries repeated, her tone edged with disbelief and unease. It was one thing to pretend, to wear the mask of authority when necessary, but the idea that it had become part of her¡­ that was something else entirely.

    Azazel shrugged. ¡°Yeah, you do. But hey, you¡¯ll shake it off.¡± She looked around briefly, then gave Ries a reassuring pat on the shoulder, her expression softening for a moment. ¡°I¡¯ll keep my eyes open. If I find out anything about the real Anise, you¡¯ll be the first to know.¡±

    ¡°Goodbye for now, then,¡± she continued, turning around and left, as if disappearing back into whatever shadows she¡¯d come from.

    Ries watched her go, the faint rustle of leaves overhead providing a momentary distraction.

    <hr>

    She stayed at the park a little while longer, pacing the winding paths without any real direction as thoughts swirled inside her head. Eventually, the draw of her own thoughts faded, and with a quiet sigh, Ries decided it was time to leave.

    The city was in full swing now, the streets alive with people going about their day. Ries walked with no particular urgency, letting the flow of the crowd guide her. But something felt different today. It took her a moment to put her finger on it¡ªthe unusually high number of Palushians walking the streets.

    They were everywhere: standing in line at food stalls, huddled in small groups talking in their native tongue, or simply wandering with a plethora of expressions ranging from despair to desire for revenge she guessed.

    Maybe it was specific for this one district, but it appears the war on the Palushian homeland has sent waves of refugees into the Imperial heartlands, remembering the fact the tribes hadn¡¯t been subdued completely. General Jachs must be doing something that is causing this, though that¡¯s not much of a concern to her.

    Her attention shifted to the posters plastered on lampposts and walls, each one competing for attention in a chaotic patchwork of color and slogans. Advertisements for everything from luxury goods to cheap lodging, government notices, and propaganda all jostled for space.

    One poster boasted a shining depiction of the Empire¡¯s might, a small depiction of the Empire¡¯s territorial borders with the imperial flag waving triumphantly above, the words ¡°Strength Through Unity¡± emblazoned beneath it.

    The other bore the emblem of the CDLWP and featured a clenched fist breaking chains, calling for resistance against imperial authority.

    She scoffed quietly. Propaganda, whether imperial or revolutionary, always reeked of desperation. The Empire wants people to know they¡¯re OK and the CDLWP needed a cause to rally around. They were two sides of the same coin, each trying to bend the will of the people to their side.

    After a while, she passed the family-run bakery and reached her house.

    Twisting the doorknob and entering it, she paused, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the man seated comfortably on her sofa as if he owned the place. Dressed in a sharp formal uniform, he looked every bit the picture of a high-ranking official, his posture relaxed but his presence unmistakably authoritative.

    The Siren immediately stood up in a panic, her wings fluttering nervously as she tried to explain the man¡¯s sudden appearance.

    ¡°Uhm! MadamAnisethisissirkettleheisherefor¡ª¡± the Siren¡¯s voice trailed off, stumbling over her words in a flustered rush.

    ¡°Hold on.¡± Ries cut her off with a sharp gesture, a finger pointed in the Siren¡¯s direction before she turned her full attention to the man in uniform. ¡°Who are you, and what the hell are you doing in my estate?¡±

    The man stood up with a straight posture, his uniform immaculately tailored, not a single crease out of place. His eyes met hers without hesitation.

    ¡°I apologize for the unannounced visit, Madam Anise,¡± he said with a polite bow, though there was a subtle edge to his voice, a reminder that this was more than a simple courtesy call. ¡°I am Sir Kettle, emissary of Her Imperial Majesty¡¯s court.¡±

    ¡°The Empress?¡± Ries¡¯s brows knit together, suspicion flickering in her eyes. ¡°What does she want?¡±

    Kettle¡¯s expression remained neutral. ¡°I believe this letter will provide the necessary context.¡± He reached into his coat and handed over a folded parchment, the imperial seal glinting¡ªa deep crimson wax bearing the unmistakable crest of the Empress herself.

    Ries snatched the letter immediately from his hand, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the seal¡ªa regal insignia pressed into deep red wax, unmistakably the mark of the Empress.

    She tore it open without ceremony, unrolling the thick, heavy parchment. The handwriting was elegant yet stern, every word meticulously penned as though each one carried the weight of the Empire itself.

    It read:

    <blockquote>

    To the former Deputy Minister of Home Affairs

    This missive reaches you in a moment of grave import. Your recent actions and deft political maneuverings in the wake of Lord Eden¡¯s ill-fated coup have not eluded the watchful eyes of the Empire. While others scurry like vermin, seeking refuge in the shadows of treachery and indecision, you have stood resolute, undeterred in your appointed station whether for triumph or travail. Your steadfast allegiance to the Empire amid such discord has not gone unnoticed by those who watch over the realm.

    However, there are questions yet unanswered and matters that require elucidation. In light of these concerns, you are hereby summoned to the Imperial Palace, where you shall be bestowed a title of nobility.

    Let it be known that this summons is not a mere request, but the express command of your sovereign.

    Her Imperial Majesty,

    Valeris IX

    </blockquote>

    Ries¡¯s heart skipped a beat as her eyes lingered on the final line. This wasn¡¯t just a mere summons¡ªit was an imperial decree. A title of nobility? She had gone from an accidental Deputy Minister to the precipice of joining the very aristocracy she loathed. What place did a Beastman have in the upper echelons of a Human-dominated world, where her kind was barely tolerated, let alone celebrated?

    She clenched the letter, the parchment crinkling in her grip. ¡°I don¡¯t care for titles. Why now, after everything?¡±

    Sir Kettle remained unfazed. ¡°The Empress does not extend such honors without reason, nor does she suffer disobedience. Your actions have garnered her attention, and she sees value in you that others have overlooked. Your presence is required at the palace, where you will receive further instructions. It would be¡­ unwise to refuse.¡±

    Ries set her jaw, a storm of conflicted emotions raging inside her.

    ¡°When?¡±

    ¡°Today. A noon,¡± the man checked his pocket watch. ¡°In about two hours, you are to arrive promptly. The Empress does not tolerate tardiness.¡±

    Ries scowled, resisting the urge to snap back. She didn¡¯t need to be told twice that this was no ordinary meeting¡ªshowing up late could easily be interpreted as an insult, and she had no desire to test the limits of imperial patience.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she said tersely, her tail flicking in irritation beneath her coat. ¡°I¡¯ll be there.¡±

    Sir Kettle nodded, satisfied with her compliance. ¡°Good. A carriage will be waiting outside your estate at eleven-thirty. Be ready.¡± With that, he turned and walked towards the door, his footsteps echoing through the quiet room.

    Ries watched him leave, the weight of the impending audience with the Empress settling heavily on her shoulders. Two hours to prepare for what could be the most significant¡ªand dangerous¡ªmeeting of her life. The nobility, the palace, the Empress herself; it was all a world she wanted no part of, and yet she was being pulled deeper into it with every passing second.

    The Siren fidgeted nervously, her hands clasped in front of her, unsure of how to proceed. ¡°Um¡­ shall I prepare a bath, Madam Anise?¡±

    Ries blinked, momentarily pulled from her thoughts. She had almost forgotten the girl was there, quietly blending into the background. ¡°Yes,¡± Ries said with a sigh, her voice tinged with fatigue. ¡°Get the bath ready.¡±

    Thankfully, she still kept the dress uniform in anticipation of a ceremony that never came to pass, thanks to Eden. Memories of stiff collars that bit into her neck, the tight fit that made her feel trapped, and the heavy coat that weighed on her shoulders like a yoke came rushing back.

    ¡°Damn it,¡± she muttered under her breath. ¡°Here we go again.¡±

    <hr>

    Well, here she is.

    ¡°PRESENT!¡±

    The guard¡¯s voice echoed, and the massive doors to the throne room creaked open with a slow, deliberate grandeur that felt more like a sentence than a welcome.

    The imperial dress uniform clung to her like a second skin¡ªdeep burgundy, the color of old blood, trimmed with gold epaulettes that seemed to dig into her shoulders with every movement. Gold braids and lanyards crisscrossed her chest, symbols of rank and status she¡¯d never truly earned. Even the lampasses that ran down the sides of her trousers felt like chains, binding her to a role she despised. She looked the part of a decorated officer, every detail in place, yet she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that she was wearing a lie.

    A lie she was beginning to be tired with.

    As she stepped forward, the soldiers lining the grand hall snapped to attention, their heels clicking in unison. The sound reverberated off the marble floors and high, vaulted ceilings.

    The throne room itself was a masterpiece of intimidation¡ªopulent and imposing, with banners of the Empire draped from the rafters, their crimson and gold designs reflecting a history of conquest and control.

    Ahead of her, the throne loomed on an elevated dais, framed by columns of polished stone and behind it were the large coat of arms of the Empire in gold and other gems.

    And there, seated in all her splendor, was the Empress Valeris IX¡ªan embodiment of regal authority wrapped in silks and jewels, her cold eyes watching Ries with an unreadable expression.

    Ries stopped at the base of the dais, her heart pounding despite her best efforts to remain composed. She dipped into a bow, the motion stiff and awkward, but respectful enough to pass muster.

    ¡°Your Imperial Majesty,¡± Ries said, her voice steady but devoid of the reverence most would muster before the Empress.

    The Empress raised a gloved hand, signaling Ries to rise.

    ¡°Citizen Anise, in recognition of your efforts and unwavering service to the Empire,¡± the Empress continued, her voice ringing with the authority of a proclamation, ¡°you are hereby granted the title of Countess of Katzennia, the land upon which the Katzen tribe inhabits. Henceforth, you shall be known as Lady Anise Des Katzennia.¡±

    Ries''s eyes widened slightly. Katzennia? Her heart sank as the realization hit. Of course she would make a Katzen the lord of their own tribal lands to assert control over it. It was a challenge to her very identity.

    She had fought for the dignity and survival of her people from the imperialism of the Empire, and now, paradoxically, she was being placed in a position where she had to balance the demands of the Empire with the needs of her own tribe.

    She remembered the first time the Empire tried to assert their control over the tribe. It was a phyrric victory for the Katzen tribe, and after that, the Empire just traded with them.

    ¡°Thank you, Your Majesty,¡± Ries said, forcing herself to sound respectful despite the turmoil inside. ¡°I will do my utmost to serve both the Empire and my people.¡±

    The Empress inclined her head slightly. ¡°Good. Meet me in my office shortly. There are further matters to discuss.¡±

    Without waiting for a response, the Empress turned and glided away, the train of her gown trailing elegantly behind her. Ries watched her go, before turning on her heel and left the throne room.

    A royal guard approached her, ¡°This way, Lady Katzennia,¡± he said, his voice respectful yet impersonal, as though her new title was simply another entry on a long list of imperial decrees.

    Ries gave a curt nod, falling in step beside the guard. The guard led her through a series of winding hallways, each turn bringing her deeper into the palace¡¯s inner sanctum. Servants moved briskly along the edges of the corridors, their eyes downcast and their footsteps light, trained to be seen and not heard in the presence of nobility. She could feel their fleeting glances¡ªthe curiosity, the envy, and perhaps a bit of fear.

    The Beastman suddenly raised to nobility was a spectacle to behold.

    They finally arrived at a set of double doors carved from dark wood, intricate patterns of the Empire¡¯s crest etched into them with gilded precision. The guard stopped, knocking twice before pushing the doors open, revealing the Empress¡¯s private office.

    The office was anything but small, it was a grand space that spoke volumes about the power and wealth of its occupant. To her left, a seating area with plush velvet sofas and an ornate coffee table invited visitors to sit in.

    The walls were lined with towering bookshelves crammed with documents, leather-bound volumes, and neatly stacked folders. Interspersed among the shelves were large paintings¡ªmost striking was a painting of the Empress herself which dominated almost an entire section of the wall.

    At the far end of the room stood a grand desk, an imposing piece of dark mahogany. It was positioned directly in front of a massive window that stretched nearly from floor to ceiling, flooding the room with light and offering a breathtaking view of the city of Valyra sprawled out below.

    The Empress herself stood behind the desk, framed by the window like a painting brought to life. Her silhouette was bathed in the midday light, casting long shadows across the room.

    Ries straightened her posture, her eyes locking briefly on the Empress before respectfully averting her gaze.

    ¡°Sit,¡± she commanded. ¡°We have much to discuss, Lady Katzennia.¡±

    Ries took her seat on the velvet sofa, sinking slightly into the luxurious fabric. The Empress moved with a graceful economy of motion, settling across from Ries with an effortless elegance that made it clear who commanded the room, even in repose.

    ¡°Tea?¡± the Empress offered, her was tone polite but edged with formality, as if the gesture was less about hospitality and more a test of how Ries would respond to her civility.

    ¡°Thank you, Your Majesty,¡± she replied, her voice measured as she nodded in acceptance.

    The Empress clapped her hands lightly, and a servant appeared almost instantly, as if summoned from the shadows. The servant, impeccably dressed, moved swiftly to pour a delicate stream of amber liquid into two porcelain cups, the aroma of jasmine and spice wafting gently through the room.

    The Empress took her cup first, her gloved fingers wrapping around the handle with a refined poise. Ries followed suit, carefully lifting the cup, feeling the slight warmth seep through the fine porcelain. It was fragrant and luxurious.

    ¡°Tell me, Lady Katzennia,¡± she began, her voice a symphony of refined elegance. ¡°What do you think of the Empire?¡±

    Ries paused, the question hanging in the air like a blade suspended by a thread. She had prepared for many things, but being directly questioned by the Empress herself was not one of them. The woman¡¯s eyes, sharp as cut gems, bore into her, searching for more than just a simple answer.

    Ries set her cup down gently, careful not to betray the storm brewing within her. ¡°Your Majesty, the Empire is... complex,¡± she replied, each word chosen with care, straddling the line between honesty and diplomacy. ¡°It is a land of great achievements and undeniable beauty, but also one of contradictions. For many, it represents opportunity and order. For others, it is a weight that crushes under the guise of progress.¡±

    ¡°A candid response. You do not speak like a courtier. That is refreshing.¡±

    Ries remained silent, her ears twitching slightly¡ªa tell she could not quite control. She couldn¡¯t afford to let her guard down, not here, not with her.

    The Empress leaned back slightly. ¡°The Privy Council finds you intriguing, if not polarizing. Some see you as a wild card, a Beastman far removed from our aristocratic traditions. Others, as a symbol of what the Empire can become¡ªa place where even the most unlikely can hold power.¡±

    ¡°As a Beastmen, then, what do you think?¡±

    Ries felt the question like a sharp prod, deliberate and pointed. It wasn¡¯t just about her opinion¡ªit was about her identity, her place within the empire¡¯s carefully constructed hierarchy. She set her cup down, the delicate clink of porcelain punctuating the silence.

    ¡°I think, Your Majesty,¡± Ries began, her voice firm but respectful, ¡°that the Empire¡¯s view of strength is narrow. It values bloodlines, wealth, and tradition.¡±

    ¡°Oh? And why is that?¡± the Empress asked.

    Ries took a breath, choosing her words with care. ¡°Because it¡¯s comfortable, Your Majesty. It¡¯s easy to believe that strength is something inherited or bought, that power rests naturally in the hands of those born into privilege. But that perspective blinds the Empire to other forms of strength¡ªthose born from struggle, from resilience, from the fight to survive against all odds. It forgets the value of those who have no choice but to be strong.¡±

    ¡°You speak of the Empire as if it is a rigid, unchanging beast. Yet, here you sit¡ªa Beastman, in a position few would have ever dreamed possible. Does that not show some willingness to change?¡±

    Ries hesitated. She cannot outright reveal to THE Empress that she was an accident. She has to make up some other reason¡­ but what?

    Before she could formulate a response, the Empress leaned in, ¡°Do you yearn for change?¡±

    Ries blinked, caught off guard by the sudden, direct question. ¡°Pardon¡­ Your Majesty?¡±

    The Empress¡¯s expression softened, but only slightly, as though she were offering a glimpse of empathy just to see what Ries would do with it. ¡°Change. Do you desire it? You speak of the Empire¡¯s flaws, its blindness, as if you see a world where things could be different. I wonder, is that a world you wish to create?¡±

    Ries felt her pulse quicken.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Ries began slowly. ¡°I believe that change is inevitable. The world moves whether we choose to move with it or not. I am here because, like you, I see a world that could be more than it is now. A world where strength is not limited by birthright or tradition, but defined by the courage to adapt, to grow, and to embrace the unknown.¡±

    The Empress tilted her head, considering Ries¡¯ words. ¡°You speak of courage and adaptability. Yet, you serve an Empire that values its old ways. Do you see your role as one to uphold its legacy, or to challenge it?¡±

    ¡°My role, Your Majesty, is to serve¡ªbut not blindly. The Empire¡¯s legacy is built on strength, and sometimes strength means knowing when to hold fast and when to change course. I do not seek to dismantle what has made us great, but I believe we can be greater still. The Empire¡¯s strength could be so much more than tradition¡ªit could be its people, united in purpose.¡±

    The Empress studied her, she saw something flash in her eyes. Approval? Understanding?

    ¡°You are a curious one, Lady Katzennia. A Beastman in a noble¡¯s seat, speaking of unity and purpose as if they were within reach.¡± She said, crossing her arms.

    Her eyes wandered around the opulent room, taking in the grandeur of her surroundings. The Empress seemed lost in thought, her fingers absently tracing strands of her golden hair.

    ¡°What you propose,¡± she continued, her voice thoughtful and deliberate, ¡°is not a small thing. To imagine the Empire changing its course, embracing new perspectives, is to challenge centuries of established order. It is ambitious, to say the least.¡±

    Ries watched as the Empress¡¯s gaze returned to her, the thoughtful expression now tinged with something more¡ªperhaps a spark of curiosity or an invitation to explore her ideas further.

    ¡°Then, would you like to form a government?¡±

 Part XVI: Government 101

    The recent chaos swirling around the capital mattered little to the common folk. To Herman, a humble laborer, the aristocrats were nothing more than a source of daily trouble, embroiling themselves in matters that had no bearing on the lives of those scraping by.

    As a poor commoner, his work options were slim, but he was fortunate enough to be literate¡ªjust enough to land him a modest job that could feed his family.

    "More beer, Herman?" the bartender asked, breaking his train of thought.

    Herman blinked, snapping out of his musings. "Hm? Oh, yeah. Sure."

    The bartender poured another glass, sliding it across the worn wooden counter. "You seem troubled. What¡¯s on your mind?"

    Herman sighed, slumping forward as if the weight of his worries had finally become too much to carry. "It¡¯s my daughter¡­ she got accepted into the Royal Valerian Academy."

    The bartender¡¯s eyes widened. "That¡¯s incredible! Didn¡¯t know your kid was a genius. Why the long face?"

    Herman managed a weak smile but it quickly faded. "It¡¯s just¡­ the tuition."

    "Ah," the bartender muttered, the shared understanding heavy between them. The Royal Valerian Academy was a prestigious institution, renowned for producing top scholars, but its tuition was a barrier that few could overcome. It was mostly nobles who attended them.

    "You¡¯re worried about the cost, huh? I¡¯ve heard it¡¯s a fortune," the bartender said, wiping a glass with a frayed cloth. "But hey, it¡¯s a chance, right? Not everyone gets one."

    "A chance I can¡¯t afford," Herman muttered, gripping the glass tightly. "They expect me to pay in Golden Virs¡ªthree hundred of them PER term for three years. I barely make enough Silver Virs to get by, let alone this kind of money. The nobles wouldn¡¯t think twice about it, but for us¡­" He trailed off, his frustration simmering.

    The bartender gave him a sympathetic nod, knowing full well the struggle of a common man against a system that favored wealth and lineage. "Have you thought about asking the government for a scholarship? Or maybe a loan?"

    Herman shook his head. "You think they¡¯ll waste money on a nobody¡¯s kid? They don¡¯t care about us, just themselves. And I¡¯m not about to get in debt to those snakes." He downed his beer in a single gulp, the bitterness on his tongue mirroring the bitterness in his heart.

    "Besides," he added, slamming the glass down on the counter, "I¡¯m not wasting my whole day sitting inside some government office, filling out forms just to be told to wait four months so I can fill out another one. It¡¯s like I¡¯m begging for scraps.¡±

    The bartender nodded. "Yeah, they make it hard on purpose. Don¡¯t want too many common folk clawing their way up. But maybe your daughter¡¯s different. She got into that academy on her own, didn¡¯t she? That¡¯s something no one can take from her, not even those bureaucrats."

    Herman rubbed his face, weary lines etched into his skin. "She deserves better than this¡ªbetter than what I can give. I¡¯d move mountains for her if I could, but every step feels like another wall in my way. I¡¯m tired, Bart. I¡¯ve worked my whole life, and I still can¡¯t give my kid the chance she¡¯s earned."

    He stared down at his empty glass, when a thought struck him¡ªa last, desperate idea that he hadn¡¯t dared entertain before. "You ever heard of those private lenders? The ones that don¡¯t ask too many questions?"

    The bartender¡¯s face tightened. "I know ¡®em. But Herman, those guys are worse than any government office. They¡¯ll lend you the money, sure, but the price¡­ they¡¯ll bleed you dry. I¡¯ve seen men lose everything to those vultures. I¡¯d think long and hard before going down that road."

    Herman nodded slowly, the dilemma visible in his tired eyes. "I know, I know¡­ but what else can I do? She¡¯s my little girl, and I can¡¯t just let this slip away¡­"

    Before the bartender could respond, the crackling sound of the radio cut through the quiet hum of the tavern. ¡°And now, we interrupt your regular broadcast for a special announcement.¡±

    Herman groaned, rubbing his temples. "Turn it down, will you, Bart? I can¡¯t stand listening to those people with their fake accents and fake empathy. They don¡¯t give a damn about us."

    Bart shrugged but didn¡¯t move as he kept wiping a glass. "Who knows? Maybe it¡¯ll be something good for a change."

    The radio continued, the announcer¡¯s voice was smooth, ¡°¡ªthis broadcast is sponsored by the Kola Corporation. Taste heaven.¡±

    Herman snorted. "See? Just another shill, peddling their poison like it¡¯s something special."

    But then the tone shifted, and the voice of the Imperial Broadcasting Service came on, both formal and commanding. ¡°Today, Her Imperial Majesty has announced the appointment of a Prime Minister¡­¡±

    The room erupted in murmurs, and a wave of curiosity washed over the tavern. One of the patrons at the back banged on the counter. ¡°Oi, Bart! Turn it up, will ya?¡±

    Bart hesitated but eventually turned the dial, the volume rising as everyone crowded closer, eager for any scrap of news that might change the course of their lives, or at least give them something new to talk about.

    Herman scowled, shaking his head at the sudden burst of interest. "Oh, come on¡­ same old game with different players."

    But the broadcast continued, and the announcer¡¯s voice took on an incredulous tone. ¡°In a stunning development, Her Imperial Majesty has appointed the Countess of Katzennia, Anise Des Katzennia, as Prime Minister. A Beastman. Little is known about her background, but Her Imperial Majesty stated: ¡®Lady Katzennia is a loyal subject who understands the needs of the Empire.¡¯¡±

    The announcement landed like a bombshell, and murmurs immediately rippled through the tavern. Patrons exchanged bewildered looks, their shock and confusion reflected in the flickering lantern light.

    ¡°A Beastman?¡± a burly man near the door exclaimed, slamming his mug down on the table. ¡°What the hell are they doing, putting one of them in the highest office in the land?!¡±

    Another patron, a thin man with a weathered face, spat on the floor. ¡°Ain¡¯t right. Next thing you know, they¡¯ll be handing out government jobs to more of them, and less to us. It¡¯s madness!¡±

    Herman scowled. ¡°Hah, they must be desperate they turn to a Beastman now!¡±

    Bart scoffed, wiping down the counter with brisk, angry motions. ¡°Loyal subject, my ass. They¡¯ll say anything to justify it.¡±

    The tavern buzzed with growing indignation, voices rising like a swell of angry waves. ¡°Why should a Beastman get that job in the first place?!¡± an old woman at the corner table spat, her wrinkled face twisted in disgust. ¡°Why not humans? Why not someone who knows what it means to be one of us?¡±

    ¡°Yeah!¡± several patrons shouted in agreement, their fists banging on the wooden tables. The mood shifted from shock to outrage. ¡°I¡¯ll bet ten Silver Virs she won¡¯t last a week!¡± a man jeered, his sneer echoing the sentiments of many. ¡°She¡¯ll get chewed up and spit out like all the rest!¡±

    ¡°Ten? I¡¯ll put twenty on it!¡± another chimed in, eager to join the mockery. ¡°A Beastman leading us? It¡¯s a joke, that¡¯s what it is. They¡¯ve got no business in politics.¡±

    Herman listened to the clamor. He was interested in joining the bet, heck, he could make some quick money off of it. But he sighed, pushing the thought aside, and turned his attention back to Bart, whose scowl deepened with every second. ¡°What do you think she¡¯ll do, Bart? If she¡¯s smart, she¡¯ll keep her head down, right?¡±

    Bart shrugged, slamming a glass down with a clatter. ¡°If she¡¯s smart, she¡¯ll stay out of the way and do what she¡¯s told, the nobility ain¡¯t gonna like her. But you remember what happened to the last lot? Almost all of the nobles were hanged for ¡®treason¡¯ after that coup attempt a few months back. Woke me up in the middle of the night with all that racket, and I ain¡¯t slept right since.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I remember,¡± Herman muttered, his mind replaying the chaos. ¡°But what¡¯s a Beastman got to do with any of that? They¡¯re just making her a scapegoat, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Bart huffed, leaning against the bar. ¡°She¡¯s just a puppet, Herman. The Empire¡¯s put her there to keep things calm, to make it look like they¡¯re shaking things up when it¡¯s the same damn game with a new face. What can she do? Nothing. She¡¯s got no power. I¡¯ll add another twenty on that bet.¡±

    ¡°You think she¡¯ll last?¡± Herman asked, genuinely curious.

    ¡°Last? She might, but she won¡¯t do anything that matters. And if she tries, they¡¯ll make sure she regrets it. The Empire doesn¡¯t change, Herman. They just change who¡¯s sitting in the chair.¡±

    <hr>

    No, no, no, no¡­ why did she agree to it?! Why?! For what?!

    Ries¡¯ mind raced as she sat alone in the large office that now belonged to her¡ªthe office of the Prime Minister. She stared blankly at the table, where documents were stacked neatly, documents where she hadn¡¯t even touched.

    Her acceptance had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, a slip she couldn¡¯t take back. When the Empress had asked her, Ries had felt the world stop. One moment, she was sitting there, a reluctant guest just conferred a title of nobility, and the next, the most powerful woman in the land was offering her a position no one would have ever dreamed possible for someone like her.

    And she had said yes.

    Why? Perhaps it was out of shock, or fear of appearing rude. But in that pivotal moment, she had nodded, muttered a quiet ¡®yes¡¯, and sealed her own fate. She stepped into the role that every noble¡ªwhat¡¯s left of them¡ªin the Empire now loathed her for.

    Of all the blunders and mistakes she¡¯d made in her life, this one topped the list. She could¡¯ve just said no, and it would have ended there. Live her life in relative quiet with all the money she earned.

    That was yesterday. And she didn¡¯t sleep that night.

    Ries buried her face in her hands, her feline ears twitching in agitation. It wasn¡¯t just the nobles who hated her, she was a Beastman, an outsider in the very heart of the Empire¡¯s power. Pretty much everyone who is a human probably hates her for some reason or another. Fortunately, their hatred isn¡¯t as extreme as the west and mostly confined to whispers in the back.

    ¡®Or could they possible try to kill me?!¡¯

    Sure, that was a thought that popped in her head. But then again, they wouldn¡¯t dare, right?

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t I just say no?¡± she whispered to herself, her voice was barely audible in the vast silence of the office. ¡°I¡¯m no politician. I don¡¯t belong here.¡±

    She lifted her head and glanced around the room. The office was a significant upgrade from her old one¡ªa sprawling, ornate space that screamed of prestige and power. High arched windows let in streams of light, casting patterns on the polished marble floors. It was grand, too¡­ architectural. She can¡¯t quite figure out what architectural style it is, though. An Imperial style, perhaps?

    Her eyes shifted back to her desk, an imposing piece of mahogany that had seen the hands of many ministers before her. On it, amidst the neat stacks of documents that she had barely touched, lay four letters. Each envelope was distinct of having varying levels formality.

    The first letter was unmistakable, it had the seal of the Empress, an imposing dragon extending its wings along with a shield emblazoned with the crest of the royal family.

    The second one had an unfamiliar seal. A deep blue wax pressed with an emblem she didn¡¯t recognize, a coiled serpent encircling a crescent moon, set against a backdrop of stars. It was unlike anything she had seen before.

    The other two letters seemed more mundane by comparison, ordinary correspondence, likely from bureaucrats or nobles trying to curry favor or make demands. Their seals were plain, without the pomp and flourish that usually came with important messages, and Ries couldn¡¯t help but feel a slight sense of relief at their normalcy.

    After a moment¡¯s hesitation, Ries decided to start with the ordinary letters. She picked up one of the plain-sealed envelopes and tore it open, the paper crinkling under her tense fingers.

    It read:

    <blockquote>

    Ms. Katzennia

    As I write this, snow is falling in Wisterin. The city is unusually quiet, there had been protests in the Empire¡¯s ¡®golden province¡¯.

    I have little reason to write to you beyond this farewell, a chance to reflect on my 42 years in service. I remember when the late Emperor first appointed me as Prime Minister. I was seasoned, yet even then, the waters were treacherous, and the role aged me far more than I¡¯d expected. Now, I am a man of many memories and few regrets.

    Her Majesty¡¯s decision to appoint you surprised many, myself included, but I have no doubt she sees something worthy in you. Though I did not have the privilege of knowing you before, I trust you will rise to meet the challenges ahead.

    Should you find yourself in doubt, my door remains open. I offer my advice freely, knowing that every leader needs guidance at times, even if our views may not always align.

    You have my unconditional support. Lead with courage, Ms. Katzennia, and remember that even the most impossible storms eventually pass.

    Yours,

    Andreas Wyke.

    57<sup>th</sup> Prime Minister of Valyrya.

    </blockquote>

    Wyke¡­ right. He was the one who had resigned in front of the ministers back then. His resignation surprised many, was Eden surprised? Honestly, she couldn¡¯t know. She remembered the sight of him, a man of fading importance, a relic of an era that had moved on without him. She couldn¡¯t care less back then, she should care more right now.

    After his resignation, he had disappeared quietly into obscurity like so many before him. They were all entranced by the fact the Empress abolished the Premiership to worry about the previous Premiers.

    But as Ries read his letter, a small, unexpected smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. There was a warmth in his words, warmth that managed to brighten her weary face.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    She set aside Wyke¡¯s letter and opened the last ordinary letter. Ripping it off, it read:

    <blockquote>

    Looks like somebody had a big promotion.

    Let me be clear, I expect you to do your utmost to care for the people.

    And to honor our deal.

    Yours,

    ¡®Sardine¡¯

    </blockquote>

    Ries stared at the letter for a while with unblinking eyes. It was a rather short letter, but it was the sender who caught her attention.

    The man who only wanted to be known as Sardine. Leader of the Liberal faction of the CDLWP. Of course she remembered her so-called promises, if it can even be called that.

    She leaned back on her chair and stared absentmindedly. ¡®Reforms¡¯¡ªsuch a simple word with such a complex meaning. How does one initiate reforms in the first place? How does she MAKE reforms?

    She was positive she would make it work in due time. It wasn¡¯t important for now.

    ¡®Wonder what he¡¯s doing right now?¡¯ Ries muttered to herself. She hadn¡¯t seen him after she left the tavern with the rest of the revolutionaries.

    Speaking of, what happened to them as well? Last she heard was that the revolutionaries were disarmed by the army when they retook the National Assembly.

    Ries set the letter from "Sardine" down, and turned to the blue waxed letter. When she reached for the letter, she couldn¡¯t help but notice a slight trace of Mana emanating from it.

    Meaning either this letter is written or is made from special ingredients, which makes it luxurious in comparison to normal written letters; or it was imbued by Arcane Arts for one reason or another.

    She hoped it was the former, since the latter could mean the letter was bugged or is a trap ready to activate when it is opened.

    She slowly and cautiously ripped the letter open. Sensing no impending doom, she breath a sigh of relief before tearing it open.

    It read:

    <blockquote>

    To the New Prime Minister of the Dragon Cultists,

    I had never expected you lot will appoint someone like you, a Beastman into the position of top clown. It seems the arrogant humans has fallen too far into their worship of that dead dragon of yours.

    But I doubt that decision was made in the spur of the moment. I am eager to see what the Empire¡¯s new leader can accomplish. It is boring to play the same game with the same people over and over again.

    His Royal Highness IMPERATOR of the OCEANS, Neptunus of the Aquilean Empire.

    </blockquote>

    ¡®Why is this happening on my first day?¡¯ Ries thought, blinking in bewilderment. The layers of scorn were so thick she could almost feel them seeping from the page. It was hard enough dealing with the domestic backlash, now she had to contend with foreign rulers taking potshots at her, too?

    And for what?

    Hell, the fact that it was an Imperator, equivalent to an Emperor, of a foreign power personally writing a letter in the most condescending way possible, was something new for her. Since when did Emperors act like children?

    Aquilean Empire¡­ where were they again? She hadn¡¯t heard of them until right now. Were they outside of the continent? If they are, that explains why she never heard of them. Taking into account her already limited knowledge of other kingdoms.

    Setting that aside, at least there was bound to be some good news. She hoped. The final letter was from her own Sovereign, so it must contain only good things, right?

    It read:

    <blockquote>

    To the Prime Minister of Valyria,

    Your first task is to form a government. While I have appointed you as Prime Minister, it falls upon you to appoint Ministers and other key officials to fill the vacant positions. A list of these vacancies can be found on the table.

    Secondly, I require that you stabilize this Empire. My Privy Council has fiercely debated this matter and, much to my displeasure, they have reached a consensus on establishing a written constitution. While the notion of it fills me with disdain, it is deemed necessary to quell unrest. However, be assured, this constitution must not infringe upon the sovereign¡¯s rights¡ªlet that be absolutely clear.

    I assume you¡¯ve already seen the letter with the blue seal. That Imperator has made a habit of sending condescending letters to every newly appointed Prime Minister since the first battle of the Corall. His provocations are nothing new¡ªignore him.

    Her Imperial Majesty, Valeris IX

    </blockquote>

    Ries let out a slow breath as she finished reading. Form a government? Write a constitution? What next? Build a house from dirt?

    And form a government? How? Who?

    She stared at the fine writing, feeling oddly less formal than the first letter she received from her. Weird, she thought the Empress likes to talk and write in some batshit insane riddle language.

    She was no politician, not in the slightest, and now she had to play the game of alliances, power balances, and political chess. There were names she recognized on the list, some who had been loyalists, not involved with Eden¡¯s coup, others she had only heard about in passing. Picking the wrong person could be disastrous, but not picking anyone was not an option.

    Constitution, constitution, constitution¡­ a document that would define the rules of the Empire¡¯s future, and yet it was to be crafted without undermining the Empress¡¯s authority.

    She rubbed her temples, feeling the onset of a headache. Sardine¡¯s demands for reforms echoed in her mind, mingling with the Empress¡¯s disdain for the constitution and the Imperator¡¯s condescension. Every direction she turned, there was another impossible demand, another expectation she had no idea how to meet.

    But there was no going back now. Whether she wanted this or not, she was Prime Minister. And somehow, she had to make it work.

    ¡°Father¡­ I wish you¡¯d seen me¡­¡± She muttered. Her father would probably laugh at her face. Okay, he wouldn¡¯t, he would just curse her for leaving the tribe and become a weakling or whatever.

    But she couldn¡¯t afford to falter. She had to at least make an attempt at this whole Premiership thing. It¡¯s not too bad, right? Just some pencil-pushing and giving orders, right?

    Picking up the pen, she stared at the blank parchment before her with the list of ministries beside it. The first step was always the hardest, but she would take it. One decision at a time.

    <blockquote>

    In the name of Her Imperial Majesty Valeris IX, I hereby appoint the following as members of cabinet in the government ran in her name.

    -Deputy Prime Minister: Clarissa

    -Minister of Home Affairs: Lady Viviana Livingstone

    -Minister of Foreign Affairs: Lord Nay Wels

    -Minister of Military Affairs: Lord-General Alto Jachs

    -Minister of Health & Welfare: Edwards Callahan

    -Minister of Education & Science: Lord Calen Volis

    -Minister of Agriculture: Lord Ernst Talbott

    -Minister of Arcane Arts & Sorcery: Archmagis Elga Aesir

    -Minister of Transport: Lady Eugen Pritwitzz

    -Minister of Finance & Economy: Lady Recina Helvia

    -Minister of Public Works: Lord Alan Falkenhorner

    -Minister of Justice & Law Enforcement: Lady Amalia Medici

    -Minister of Information: Lord Daniil Iscari

    -Speaker of the National Assembly: Lord Artor Fenwick

    -Lord-Marshal of the Imperial Army: Lord Felix Fountainne

    -High-Admiral of the Imperial Navy: Lady Lucia Edelweiss

    -High-Admiral of the Imperial Air Force: Lord Alexander Freiherr

    -Director of the Imperial Security Directorate: Lord Orko Vaspier

    </blockquote>

    <hr>

    Elsewhere in the Empire, the Palushians, though their most powerful tribes had fallen, still clung to hope. Imperial aggression, rather than breaking them, had forged an unlikely unity among the scattered tribes, binding them together in defiance.

    Yet, with each passing day, their numbers dwindled¡ªdeserters slipped away under the cover of darkness, morale waned, and desperation hung thick in the air. All they had left was the faint hope that the gods would intervene, granting them the miracle they so desperately needed.

    "Chief Hali!" A frantic voice cut through the tense silence, and a disheveled tribesman burst into Hali¡¯s tent. Hali, who was the sole survivor of the Battle of Wilten, had elevated him to a near-mythic status among the Palushians, and was quickly appointed Chief.

    "What is it?" Hali asked, setting aside the daggers he had been polishing.

    "The Imperials! They''ve brought a doomsday weapon!" The words tumbled out, panicked and breathless.

    Hali''s blood ran cold. "What?!" He sprang to his feet, not waiting for an explanation, rushing outside with a sinking feeling in his chest.

    It was night, but the Palushians had lit enough torches to make the camp glow like a beacon. The orange flames flickered, casting shadows across the gathered warriors, but none of it mattered¡ªnot when every pair of eyes was fixed on the sky.

    Hali¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as he stepped out of his tent, his eyes widening at the sight before him.

    In the distance, silhouetted against the starless sky, was the massive shape of an Imperial warship¡ªa flying fortress that blotted out the moonlight, casting a shadow over the Palushian camp.

    The rumors hadn¡¯t done it justice. Hali had heard tales from other tribes of the Empire¡¯s zeppelins, but this¡­ this was something else entirely. It was colossal, far larger than any ship he could¡¯ve imagined, with a belly bristling with cannons and strange mechanical appendages.

    A warship in the skies. A doomsday weapon.

    "By the gods..." Hali muttered under his breath, gripping his daggers tighter.

    "Chief, what do we do?" one of the tribesmen asked, his voice trembling. The question hung heavy in the air, and all eyes turned to Hali, waiting for his command.

    They were already outnumbered, outgunned, and exhausted from months of fighting. Morale was at an all-time low, and now this¡ªa flying monster, impossible to reach with their arrows or stolen rifles.

    "We fight," he said at last, his voice steady, though every fiber of his being screamed to flee. "We have no choice. The Empire thinks they can break us, but as long as we stand together, we will show them that we Palushians do not bow."

    His words barely hung in the air when the ground beneath them trembled violently, the unmistakable rumble of cannon fire cutting through the night. The Imperial warship, still a distant shadow against the sky, had fired. Its cannons, terrifyingly precise even at this range, had locked onto the Palushians'' camp, drawn by the sea of torches that practically screamed to be targeted.

    "Get down!" someone shouted, but it was too late.

    A deafening explosion rocked the earth, followed by a blinding flash of light. The force of the blast threw several men off their feet, and the air was filled with the sickening crack of splintering wood and collapsing tents. Smoke and dust billowed up, choking the air as the scent of burning wood filled Hali''s nostrils.

    Coughing, Hali scrambled to his feet, ears ringing from the blast. In the chaos, he saw the twisted bodies of warriors lying motionless in the dirt, while others were dragging themselves up, dazed and disoriented.

    "Put out those torches!" Hali barked, wiping blood from his face. "Now!"

    The men, shaken but alive, hurried to extinguish the fires, kicking over torches and smothering the flames in desperate attempts to cloak the camp in darkness once more. Hali knew it was only a matter of time before the warship fired again.

    They couldn¡¯t outrun the cannons, and they couldn¡¯t hope to take down the warship with what little they had left. The situation was dire, but surrender was not an option.

    He turned to his surviving warriors, their faces lit only by the glow of the distant fires. "We need to move, regroup in the forest. That ship won¡¯t stop until there¡¯s nothing left of us. Spread out, keep low, and stay silent."

    They nodded grimly, gathering their weapons and fallen comrades, disappearing into the trees one by one.

    Hali watched as the warship loomed ominously in the distance, its hulking form an unnatural shadow blotting out the stars. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that they were being watched, even from so far away. Could the Empire¡¯s soldiers be observing their every movement from that flying fortress? He didn''t know for sure, but it was best to assume so.

    <hr>

    Back in the heart of the Empire, inside the office of the Prime Minister, sat two people on a sofa. They were Viviana Livingstone and Nay Wels respectively, invited in accordance by the Prime Minister.

    Let it be clear once again that Ries has absolutely no experience in politics, nor does she ever expected to be in the political scene to begin with. Thus, her first decision as the second-most powerful figure in the Empire is to invite two of the most seasoned politicians on their respective areas to be briefed on the current state of the Empire.

    Ries stood by her desk, staring at the papers scattered across its surface. Her feline ears twitched in agitation, and her tail swayed restlessly behind her. She¡¯d prefer the easy life of adventuring. Sure, she could die in more ways than one, but it had the perk of not interacting with people, especially nobles.

    ¡°Please, do start. I have to know our situation to get a grasp of what I¡¯m doing for the foreseeable future,¡± she said, looking to both Viviana and Nay.

    Viviana was the first to respond, clasping her hands. ¡°Well, Prime Minister. Which would you like to know first? Domestic, or Foreign?¡±

    Ries glanced at the papers again, a headache already forming behind her eyes. "Domestic sounds good. Let''s tackle what''s closest to home."

    Viviana cleared her throat, as if preparing to launch a long explanation. ¡°The Empire is generally in a ¡®good¡¯ position. I say this, because even though the recent events are devastating on their own, they only affect the capital in particular and didn¡¯t spread throughout the Empire.¡±

    Ries leaned against the desk. "¡®Good position¡¯? What about the angry mob protesting outside? I heard even Wisteria had a protest recently."

    Viviana gave a slight shrug. "That may be true, Prime Minister, but protests, large as they seem, tend to lose steam without sustained momentum. Most of these protests are reactions to isolated incidents¡ªfrustrations about local issues rather than widespread discontent. The real danger lies in letting those frustrations go unchecked for too long."

    ¡°Managing discontent¡­¡± Ries muttered, jotting it down. ¡°Got it. Anything else?¡±

    Viviana sighed. ¡°The economy is holding on, barely. We¡¯ve reported a small growth this quarter, but it¡¯s come at the cost of pushing factory workers to their limits. Near-unlimited hours are becoming the norm. Inflation is also rising¡­¡±

    "Inflation..." Ries echoed, the term still a foreign concept to her. Her knowledge of economics barely extended past bargaining for equipment as an adventurer. But now, she had to understand how the entire empire''s economy worked.

    ¡°What else?¡± she asked, forcing herself to stay focused.

    "There¡¯s another issue¡ªone that¡¯s becoming the bane of every Prime Minister¡¯s existence, and perhaps our dear Sovereign as well, the provinces. They¡¯re demanding more rights for greater autonomy."

    Ries winced. Even with her limited understanding of imperial politics, she knew the delicate balance between the central government in Valyra and the various provinces, duchies, and territories. The Empress might hold absolute power on paper, but the provinces had their own desires, laws, traditions, and, often, their own armies. Too much autonomy and the empire would fracture. Too little, and rebellion loomed on the horizon.

    She recalled it all stemmed from the charter signed after the unification wars. The Empire was not a singular entity but rather a union of six kingdoms, each with its own Sovereign. The Sovereign of Valyra, of course, was the most powerful¡ªresponsible for uniting the others.

    To keep the peace, the kingdoms were granted certain rights, including the ability to maintain smaller armies and manage their territories. When the Empire expanded eastward and established new provinces, the same charter applied even though these new provinces were often neither ruled by Kingdoms or Duchies.

    As for conquered kingdoms, the same pre-annexation government still existed and operated normally under the charter. Thus making the Empire a rather decentralized entity, almost like a federation of smaller kingdoms making one big kingdom. Though if the current Empress had her way¡­

    "How bad is it?" she asked, pushing that thought aside. She already knew the answer, of course. The Empress wanted increased centralization. It would¡¯ve been an almost impossible dream then, when the aristocrats were still influential. But now, with most of the influential ones executed, it was not an impossible feat anymore.

    "Bad enough," Viviana replied. "The larger provinces are the loudest. They want more control over their local laws, their taxes, and even their military forces. They''re starting to frame it as an issue of ''rights.'' The smaller provinces will likely follow suit if we don''t address it."

    Ries frowned. "And if we don¡¯t give them what they want?"

    Viviana shrugged. ¡°We could always crush them with the military, as we¡¯ve done before.¡±

    Ries narrowed her eyes. ¡°You sound confident about that.¡±

    Viviana met her gaze. ¡°It¡¯s not the first time the provinces have gotten restless. A well-placed show of force usually reminds them where they stand.¡±

    "So we¡¯re juggling domestic unrest, overworked laborers, rising inflation, and now the provinces demanding more autonomy. What¡¯s the next disaster on the list?" Ries sighed.

    Nay Wels, who had been silent, cleared his throat. "That would be the foreign front, Prime Minister."

    Ries glanced over at him, bracing herself. "Go on."

    ¡°The Empire is considered by many, a great power. So we must play that part. Our main rival lies beyond the Swirling Ocean, the Aquilean Empire.¡±

    ¡°Any reason why we¡¯re rivals with them?¡±

    ¡°The Coroner Islands is a very disputed territory between us. We want it for its abundance of fish, and sugar.¡±

    Ries sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. "So, we¡¯re rivals over some islands... and fish?" And disputing an island named ¡®coroner¡¯ of all places.

    "And sugar,¡± Nay added. ¡°The Coroner Islands are strategically important for both empires. Control over them offers a foothold in the Swirling Ocean, vital trade routes, and rich resources. But for the Aquileans, it¡¯s more about maintaining dominance at sea. They view our interest as a direct challenge to their maritime supremacy.¡±

    "So, it''s not just about the land, but pride as well?"

    "Precisely," Nay continued. "The Aquilean Empire has ruled the seas for centuries, they are a prideful race. Any incursion¡ªreal or perceived¡ªinto their waters is met with hostility. We''ve already clashed several times over it."

    ¡°Great," Ries muttered. "So now, in addition to unrest, inflation, and provinces on the verge of rebellion, I¡¯ve got an imperial pissing contest to deal with. Fantastic."

    ¡°Then we have the west,¡± Nay shifted slightly in his seat. ¡°We have a love-hate relationship with them. Hate, Because eighty percent of our history is all about marching into their lands. Love, because they depend on our exports to trade.¡±

    ¡°What kind of exports?¡±

    ¡°Weapons, of course. At this climate, where they are currently fighting the newly united Demon ¡®empire¡¯ so to speak, how could you not sell weapons?¡± Nay smirked. ¡°We¡¯re making a fortune, by the way.¡±

    Weapon peddling, legally.

    ¡°We¡¯re acting like shrewd businessmen, huh?¡± Ries sighed. ¡°Is that all?¡±

    Nay laughed, "That''s just the start! There''s more to discuss, but if we don''t wrap this up now, we''ll be late for the first cabinet meeting. I can send you the documents afterwards."

    Ries groaned, pushing herself away from her desk. "Right, the meeting." She glanced at the scattered papers. It would be her first cabinet meeting after appointing the ministers herself. ¡°Please do send the documents after we¡¯re finished.¡±

    Viviana stood up, smoothing her skirt with a swift motion. "You''ll be fine. Just remember, this is your cabinet. They answer to you."

    "Yeah, but for how long?" Ries muttered under her breath. She wasn''t used to people following her orders. In fact, she wasn¡¯t used to people at all, since she often acted a lone wolf back in her adventurer days. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡±

    At least she¡¯d have the best serviced the Empire can offer her, and it¡¯s not like everything would collapse instantly if she made the wrong move. It¡¯ll take a lot of elbow grease to make things work, an ocean of elbow grease really.

    But¡­ one step at a time, right?

 Part XVII: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

    Ries took a deep breath as she stepped into the room, feeling nervous from the stares of her cabinet members. It wasn¡¯t the same as when she was an adventurer, where confidence came naturally to her in the heat of battle or the occasional banter. These were politicians and bureaucrats, monsters in their own right. Still, she had to remember that she had appointed them. They were here because of her decisions, not the other way around. Unfortunately.

    Thankfully for her, Clarissa, her former secretary now appointed Deputy Prime Minister is a capable individual. She gracefully guided Ries to her seat at the head of the table, subtly adjusting the flow of the room to draw attention away from Ries'' moment of hesitation.

    "Good afternoon, everyone," Clarissa began, her voice smooth and authoritative. "We have several matters to discuss today, as you are aware, this is the first cabinet meeting of Lady Katzennia¡¯s cabinet.¡±

    Ries winced when she mentioned Katzennia, not quite used to her new surname. Her gaze was fixed in the documents she had before her, but she ocassionaly glanced at the other cabinet members.

    Aside from the few who survived Eden¡¯s coup attempt, and the people who helped her quietly take out Veron, there were noticeably more younger ministers. Though ¡®young¡¯ as in less than thirty years of age.

    Clarissa continued her introduction, providing a brief overview of the agenda, which included matters of she couldn¡¯t possible comprehend, letting her mind drift elsewhere. As Clarissa wrapped up her introduction, Ries steeled herself for what was to come.

    ¡°Thank you, Clarissa,¡± she said with a calm voice, as calm as she could manage. ¡°Let¡¯s hear the reports from the ministries first.¡±

    Ries let her words hang in the air, glancing around the room to gauge the ministers'' reactions. She was still learning about the intricacies of the Empire''s inner workings and what kind of people these high-born ministers truly were. Their eloquence and pragmatism were expected, but whether or not they were loyal or self-serving remained to be seen.

    Viviana had briefed her on the immediate crises, and Nay had provided her with a broad understanding of the Empire''s geopolitical situation, but neither had given her a true sense of the individuals she now had to lead. The only way to grasp their motivations, loyalties, and hidden agendas was to hear directly from them.

    The first to speak was a young woman with striking white hair, a clear mark of her aristocratic lineage if there was any. Her posture radiated arrogance, as if she viewed herself as superior even in this room of powerful individuals. Most notable was her appearance¡ªwhile most of the cabinet were dressed in the sharp, formal suits befitting their station, she stood out in her lavish attire. Her heterochromatic eyes, one blue and one yellow.

    Without waiting for permission, she crossed her arms, her tone already dripping with disdain and displeasure. "I suppose it¡¯s time to inform you of the disaster the previous administration left for my ministry?" Her words were sharp, yet she barely acknowledged Ries as anything more than a mere inconvenience.

    Ries¡¯s feline ears twitched in subtle irritation, but she kept her composure. Duchess Eugen Pritwitzz of Charlinne, she recalled. The young noblewoman was appointed Minister of Transport, responsible for managing the Empire¡¯s vast logistical networks¡ªroads, railways, and shipping lines. Despite her insolence, Pritwitzz was reputed to be highly competent, though with an ego to match.

    Ries folded her hands, her gaze calm but direct. ¡°Go on, Lady Pritwitzz,¡± she said. She wasn¡¯t about to let some arrogant noble dictate the tone of the meeting.

    Eugen lifted her chin slightly, the hint of a smirk playing at her lips as if she was already victorious in securing her demands. ¡°Normally, I¡¯d be reluctant to request help,¡± she began, her tone laced with a mix of pride and thinly veiled condescension. ¡°However, the previous administration seems to have had an affinity for grandiose projects¡ªmegastructures, if you will.¡±

    She paused for effect, gauging the room before continuing. ¡°I¡¯ve recently uncovered plans for a rail line connecting the capital of the Kingdom of Rozafyr to our most eastern city. We¡¯re talking about over ten thousand kilometers of railway that¡¯s already partially under construction. A colossal undertaking that needs immediate resources to be committed and accomplished. And might I remind everyone, this isn¡¯t just a matter of logistics¡ªit¡¯s an economic artery. One that, if completed, could drastically alter trade and transportation across the continent.¡±

    The room grew tense as the magnitude of the project sank in. Ten thousand kilometers of rail would be the Empire¡¯s largest infrastructure feat to date, but the sheer scope of it was overwhelming and most definitely extremely expensive.

    Ries tapped her pen against the table. A project of this scale could bankrupt the treasury or cripple other vital sectors. And yet, if completed, it could be a game-changer for the Empire''s economy and influence in the region.

    ¡°Why hasn¡¯t this been brought up sooner?¡± She asked.

    Eugen shrugged as if the question were irrelevant. ¡°The previous administration kept it under wraps, likely because they had no idea how to actually finish it. I only discovered it when I went through old transport records.¡±

    Ries leaned back, considering the implications. This project could be a huge opportunity, but it was also a ticking time bomb if mismanaged. The Empire was already stretched thin, and diverting more resources toward this without careful planning could lead to disaster.

    ¡°How far along is the construction?¡±

    ¡°About twenty percent of the line is built, mostly in the western regions and in Rozafyr. But the eastern section hasn¡¯t even broken ground. It¡¯ll take years, maybe decades, to complete at the current pace. Unless we make this a priority.¡±

    If we even have the money.

    Ries left that unsaid. ¡°Thank you, Duchess Pritwitzz,¡± she said after a long pause. ¡°I¡¯ll need a full briefing on the project, including costs, timelines, and the resources you¡¯ll need. We¡¯ll discuss this further in our individual meeting.¡±

    Eugen gave a curt nod, satisfied for now. ¡°Of course, Prime Minister. I¡¯ll have the documents prepared.¡±

    ¡°Any other concerns?¡±

    Eugen shrugged nonchalantly. "Eh, not much. I can handle them on my own," she said, her dismissiveness rubbing Ries the wrong way. The young minister''s arrogance was undeniable, but at least she seemed competent, even if her attitude left something to be desired.

    ¡°On the topic of that railroad, Prime Minister,¡± Ries looked towards the source of the voice, it was Nay. The man can be serious and unserious at times, though she respected the man for being formal during an appropriate time.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°The Kingdom of Rozafyr wants to see us complete the railroad atleast in the western provinces.¡±

    ¡°Why is that?¡±

    ¡°Well, they depend on us for most industrial and wheat. The province of Wysteria provides both of those, so they¡¯re quite eager to improve the transportation routes for easier access to resources. The railway would drastically reduce their reliance on overland caravans, which are slower and less efficient.¡±

    Ries nodded thoughtfully. "So they want to speed things up, and they''re putting pressure on us to finish at least that section."

    ¡°Correct,¡± Nay continued. ¡°They¡¯ve even hinted at possible trade deals and concessions if we prioritize it.¡±

    That caught Ries'' attention. "Concessions? What kind of concessions?"

    "They¡¯re willing to lower tariffs on certain goods we export and might even invest some of their own funds into the project¡ªif it means the rail connection to Wysteria is completed sooner."

    ¡°That could be good. Send the full report to me, then. Anything else?¡±

    Nay gave a quick nod, acknowledging her decision. ¡°I¡¯ll have the full report on your desk by tomorrow. As for other matters, nothing pressing regarding this project, Prime Minister.¡±

    Ries shifted in her seat, mentally preparing for the next round of discussions. ¡°Good. Now, who¡¯s next?¡±

    A woman raised her hand before she spoke. Clearing her throat, she spoke, ¡°This concerns the economy, madam Prime Minister.¡±

    The woman who spoke was the Minister of Finance and Economy, she recalled she assigned the position to a lady named Recina Helvia. The Queen of Hallenstadt, Ries reminded herself. Queen Helvia was not only a high-ranking noble but the ruler of one of the Empire¡¯s wealthiest vassal states. Despite her royal status, she had agreed to serve as Minister of Finance and Economy, a move that had raised eyebrows among the aristocracy.

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister, as my colleague have pointed out, the feasibility of this¡­ megaproject is questionable at best. For years now the Empire has been running at a deficit thanks to its insistence on isolation from the global market,¡± the Queen gracefully spoke.

    Right, another thing this Empire is too¡­ what¡¯s the word without being too harsh¡­ Insular, that¡¯s it. The Empire''s strict protectionist policies had kept the economy artificially insulated, forcing provinces to trade within a closed system. Sure, it had worked for a while, but now the cracks were showing.

    The Empire¡¯s currency, which is pegged to gold, should have inspired confidence. But outside of their borders, it was viewed as little more than paper. Foreign merchants had little use for it, and no one trusted the Empire¡¯s economic system enough to see the Golden Virs as valuable. This was the clearest sign of how little economic influence they truly wielded beyond their borders.

    ¡°How bad is it?¡± She asked. Never having a clear education or knowledge on economics, she had to rely on either Clarissa or Queen Helvia heavily for her future policies.

    Helvia folded her hands neatly on the table, her expression turning more serious. "It''s not catastrophic yet, but we''re on the edge of a precipice. The deficit has been growing steadily over the past decade. We¡¯ve been pouring money into the military, infrastructure, and¡ª" she glanced at Eugen, "¡ªmegastructures, without adequate returns. Our manufacturing sector is strong, but without access to foreign markets, we''re creating a surplus we can¡¯t sell."

    Clarissa nodded in agreement, adding, "The internal trading system is essentially a closed-loop economy, which can only scale as far as provincial consumption allows. However, aggregate demand has been steadily decreasing due to rising tax burdens and restrictive tariffs, which act as a deadweight drag on both private sector consumption and provincial GDP. Disposable income across the Empire is shrinking, reducing overall market liquidity. The average citizen is experiencing a real decline in purchasing power, exacerbated by inflationary pressures in key commodity markets."

    ¡°Precisely,¡± Helvia continued, "Though our budget appears expansive on paper, it¡¯s highly illiquid. Much of it is tied up in earmarked funds for defense and infrastructure, creating a liquidity trap. Though with the size of the Empire, it is not unusual. Moreover, the current account deficit is widening as we fail to balance imports and exports. Without a strong export base to generate foreign exchange reserves, our currency has depreciated in real terms internationally, leading to the devaluation of the Imperial Virs. Our currency lacks convertibility and, therefore, credibility in international markets, effectively rendering it a fiat currency with minimal intrinsic value beyond our borders."

    Ries¡¯ eyes darted between the two woman, despite her efforts to maintain focus, the complex economic jargon felt like it was spinning in circles around her. What the fuck are they saying?! she thought, resisting the urge to sigh.

    Trying to wrest control of the conversation, she spoke up. "Helvia, what do you suggest we do, then?"

    Helvia sighed, clearly not thrilled with her own recommendation. "To continue funding that megaproject would be reckless. It¡¯s bleeding money we don¡¯t have, and pushing forward will force us into austerity¡ªslashing budgets across all departments. It would mean massive cuts, likely affecting defense, infrastructure, and social services. We¡¯d be facing widespread discontent, and no one in this room wants to be responsible for that."

    She glanced around the table, and the silence from the other ministers was telling. No one was eager to endorse the grim prospect of austerity. Except one person who stood up and leaned in on the table.

    ¡°Hey! If we finish this project, it will become the new lifeblood, the artery of the Empire! Think of the economic benefits it will bring!¡± It was Duchess Pritwitzz, it seems she isn¡¯t afraid of going toe-to-toe with a Queen.

    ¡°Lifeblood? Artery of the Empire?¡± Helvia repeated, her voice calm but laced with sarcasm. ¡°That¡¯s a romantic notion, Duchess, but we''re staring at financial ruin. The economy is hemorrhaging. Even if we finish the project, where do you propose we find the money to maintain it? We can barely balance our existing infrastructure, let alone something on this scale.¡±

    Eugen scoffed, her heterochromatic eyes flashing with impatience. ¡°You¡¯re not thinking long-term, Helvia. Yes, it¡¯s costly, but once completed, this railway will pay for itself. Efficient trade routes between Rozafyr and Wysteria will open up unprecedented access to resources, as well as opening up the entire country. We¡¯ll streamline the movement of goods, and provinces that have been isolated will suddenly be connected to vital markets.¡±

    "You''re assuming ideal conditions, Duchess. Ideal conditions we don''t have. We''re lacking the funds, labor, and political capital to push this through without severe sacrifices. What you''re proposing is a gamble¡ªa high-risk gamble on an already teetering economy."

    Pritwitzz didn¡¯t back down. "It''s a necessary gamble. We can¡¯t sit back and stagnate. Delaying the project only worsens our economic outlook. Every day this railway remains unfinished is a day we lose potential growth. We could be tapping into trade with Rozafyr, we could be leveraging our industrial production¡ªif we complete the project. Shelving it is a coward¡¯s move."

    Ries swore she could almost see sparks flying between Pritwitzz and Helvia as the two women locked eyes, neither were willing to yield. The atmosphere grew thick with tension, and though it was her job to intervene, Ries hesitated. They¡¯re making scary faces¡­

    Just as she was mustering the will to step in, a nervous voice broke the charged silence.

    ¡°Uhm, why can¡¯t we print more money?¡±

    Minister Talbott of Agriculture had spoken the unthinkable. The air seemed to freeze as both Helvia and Pritwitzz snapped their attention to him, their gazes filled with equal parts disbelief and disdain.

    ¡°Are you stupid/retarded?¡±

    Ries nearly buried her face in her hands as the tension in the room shifted from heated debate to sheer disbelief. ¡°Really, Talbott?¡± she thought, watching the man wilt under the combined glares of Helvia and Pritwitzz.

    Helvia was the first to speak, her voice icy and dripping with condescension. "Minister Talbott," she said slowly, as though explaining to a child, "printing more money does not magically increase wealth. It devalues the currency. You flood the market with more money than the economy can support, and all you get is runaway inflation."

    "Basic economics, Talbott,¡± Pritwitzz chimed in, still glaring at the man. ¡°You print more, you make the currency worth less. You¡¯d turn the Imperial Silver and Golden Virs into worthless paper overnight. What next, bartering with cows and crops?"

    Talbott''s face flushed, clearly regretting his outburst. "I-I just thought... maybe we could¡ª"

    "How about you just¡­ don¡¯t," Ries interrupted, her exasperation finally bubbling over. She shot a glance at Talbott, who wisely closed his mouth. ¡°If I leave this to them, the man might actually wither away.¡±

    Taking a deep breath, she steered the conversation back on track. "Alright, enough. We all know that printing money isn¡¯t the answer. What we need are real solutions."

    Helvia, still glaring at Talbott, straightened her posture. "Real solutions involve hard choices. We can¡¯t afford to stretch our budget any thinner. To proceed with the railway without external investments or budget cuts would be reckless."

    ¡°Right¡­ let¡¯s say we proceed with the construction of the railway, and not make it a priority. Can you figure out some way to balance the budget?¡±

    Helvia took a measured breath, finally shifting her gaze away from Talbott and focusing on Ries. "Balancing the budget without drastic measures is... possible, but it will require some strategic thinking." Her voice was calm, though still heavy with caution. "First, we would need to scale back non-essential infrastructure projects, particularly in regions where the return on investment is minimal. We can delay expansions in areas with lower economic activity."

    ¡°Yeah, you do that. Send me a report by then,¡± Ries internally sighed. The meeting wasn¡¯t even halfway and she already felt her vitality being chipped away as the meeting dragged on. ¡°Anyone else want to report something?¡±

    She scanned the room, hoping for a change in tone, but her eyes landed on Jachs, who sat slouched in his chair, far removed from the crisp, colorful uniform he wore back in Paluushtag. Instead, he wore a wrinkled, ill-fitting suit, as if he didn¡¯t care much for the formalities.

    ¡°Jachs,¡± Ries called, snapping his attention to her. ¡°You were in charge of the Palushian pacification, right? What¡¯s the status on that?¡±

    In wars, nothing is simple. Especially when fighting a decentralized primitive force such as the Palushian tribes. Though their tribes fell one by one, and even after signing a treaty, they still waged insurgency wars. Not very difficult to handle, considering the superiority of the Imperial army, but it could be a problem in the long term if it wasn¡¯t suppressed.

    Aside from committing more and more resources, it could cause a strain in the economy. And Helvia wouldn¡¯t like that would she?

    Jachs sat up a little straighter, rubbing the back of his neck as if to buy time. "The tribes are¡­ still a problem," he admitted. "We took down most of their leadership, got them to sign a treaty¡ªyou remember that, right? But that hasn''t stopped them. They¡¯ve reverted to guerilla tactics. Hit-and-run attacks on supply lines, ambushing patrols."

    Ries sighed. "How bad is it?"

    "Nothing catastrophic yet," Jachs said. "Casualties are low, but they¡¯re making us bleed resources. Every time we clear an area, they pop up somewhere else. It¡¯s like whack-a-mole with people who know the terrain better than we do."

    Ries sighed heavily, waving her hand as if to physically dismiss the problem. "Welp¡­ just¡­ send a report to my office," she muttered, clearly done with the subject for now.

    Jachs blinked in surprise. "Aren¡¯t you going to ask about the Armed Forces?"

    Ries leaned back in her chair, massaging her forehead. "To be frank, I¡¯m starting to get tired." Her voice carried the weight of exhaustion, and she scanned the room with weary eyes. "Who else has a report?"

    For a moment, there was blessed silence as the ministers exchanged nervous glances. No one seemed eager to prolong the already exhausting meeting.

    But, inevitably, another minister found the courage to stand. He launched into his report, droning on in a monotone voice about a problem that, from what Ries could gather, had no straightforward solution. As his words blurred into an endless stream of bureaucratic jargon, Ries could feel her eyelids grow heavier, a dull headache creeping across her forehead. She nodded occasionally, pretending to follow.

    Finally, Ries caught Clarissa¡¯s eye and gave a subtle signal, silently pleading for her assistant to handle it. Clarissa nodded in acknowledgment and immediately began scribbling notes.

    Somehow, at some point, Ries found herself dozing off.

    And she dreamt of simpler days.

    <hr>

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister, please take a look at this.¡±

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister, what do you think?¡±

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister, the budget is off¡ª¡±

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister¡ª¡±

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister!¡±

    Ries jolted awake, blinking as her eyes refocused on the chaotic scene around her. Viviana, now wearing glasses and looking as if she''d been through a horrific war, sat nearby with papers in hand. It didn¡¯t take long for Ries to recall where they were¡ªback in the meeting room.

    There was nobody except her, Viviana, and Clarissa. Everyone seemed to have left. What even happened after she fell asleep?

    The once-pristine space had devolved into a battlefield of crumpled paper, scribbled notes, and towering stacks of reports. The blackboards along the walls were scrawled with equations, graphs, and terms that all blurred together into what Ries could only describe as a foreign language. Economics. Or as Ries liked to think of it, ¡°bureaucratic sorcer,¡± or something similar.

    "You dozed off during the meeting. We¡¯ve taken the initiative and begin drafting the constitution without you," Viviana gave her a tired smile.

    Ries rubbed her eyes and glanced over at Clarissa, who sat buried behind a massive binder, flipping through its pages with an intensity that made Ries feel like the least industrious person in the room.

    She sighed. "Good lord, I shouldn¡¯t have taken this job at the first place¡­" Her shoulders ached, stiff from the hours of work hunched over documents and scrawled notes.

    ¡°Alright¡­ back to business.¡± She rubbed her temples, trying to summon the energy to continue.

    Viviana nodded, ¡°Right, turn to page two hundred seventy-nine.¡±

    Clarissa flipped to the page without missing a beat and Ries flipped it with a bored face, leaning over to examine the text. She squinted at the legal jargon that sprawled across the page, a dense mass of clauses, subclauses, and what felt like endless compromises.

    What was this section even about? Oh, land ownership.

    ¡°Clarissa, could you read this out for us?¡± Ries asked, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

    Clarissa cleared her throat. ¡°Article 168, Section 12, Subsection A, Clause 6-A, Subclause 3, regarding provincial land ownership and leasing rights.¡± She paused for a moment, making sure Ries was still following. ¡°It states that any land leased or sold to private parties within provincial boundaries is subject to taxation by both the provincial and imperial governments. However, any disputes regarding land ownership between provinces and the imperial government will be adjudicated by an independent court established by the central authority.¡±

    Ries¡¯ eyelids felt heavier with each word. How could something as simple as land ownership turn into such a convoluted mess?

    Wasn¡¯t the purpose in writing this constitution to make things easier on the bureaucracy? And not making things even complicated.

    Viviana chimed in, a smirk forming on her lips. ¡°You¡¯d think we were writing this for warring kingdoms instead of provinces. This is what happens when you let every noble in the Empire have a say.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, we have to make sure the nobles don¡¯t start a civil war over grazing fields or some dirt hut. At least, not on my watch.¡± Ries sighed.

    ¡°This is also what happens when you try to combine hundreds of codex of laws into one central and written constitution, by the way. Lots of headaches.¡±

    ¡°True¡­¡± Ries turned to Clarissa. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s say we¡¯re done with the land stuff. Please read out what next.¡±

    ¡°We have¡­¡± Clarissa flips a page and squints to see the text. ¡°Naming conventions for roads, nature, public buildings¡­¡± Clarissa read out slowly, her tone sounding as disbelieving as Ries felt.

    ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± Ries exclaimed. ¡°We¡¯re drafting a constitution, and we need to decide on road NAMES?¡±

    Viviana shook her head. ¡°I too think this is absurd. This is unimportant.¡±

    Ries groaned. ¡°I¡¯m starting to think the civil war option might be simpler.¡±

    Clarissa cleared her throat, bringing the attention back to the binder. ¡°Article 200 states that all public works¡ªroads, schools, buildings¡ªmust follow a standardized naming convention approved by the central government. This is to prevent inconsistency between provinces and to ensure that historical and cultural figures honored are in line with imperial values.¡±

    ¡°Imperial values, huh?¡± Ries leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing at the sheer absurdity. ¡°And who decides what those are?¡±

    Viviana waved her hand. ¡°The Ministry of Information¡¯s censorship and propaganda department, that much is obvious.¡±

    ¡°Right then¡­ let¡¯s continue shall we?¡±

    Hours pass and Ries could feel the drowsiness taking her from within. They flipped page after page of mostly reviewing laws and changing bits here and there. Until finally, they were at the end of the binder at the cover closed as if a massive burden was taken off of her.

    Ries sighed a breath of relief. ¡°Thank fucking God. That was it, right? We¡¯re done?¡±

    Viviana didn¡¯t respond. She looked awake, though if any indication is to go by, she¡¯s very much asleep. With her eyes open too.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Clarissa spoke up, strangely she didn¡¯t feel fatigue. ¡°Yes, Madam Anise. Though we¡¯ve ignored these two articles in particular.¡±

    ¡°Really now? What are those?¡±

    ¡°The articles regarding central and provincial governance and¡­ elections.¡± Clarissa answered.

    Ries cursed under her breath, her weariness quickly replaced by a surge of frustration. ¡°Of course, the most important parts are left out. Why am I not surprised?¡±

    Clarissa continued, her tone was calm despite the subject matter. ¡°We deliberately left those sections for last, knowing they¡¯d be the most¡­ contentious,¡± she explained. ¡°The central and provincial governance chapter is complex enough, but elections... that¡¯s where things get especially tricky.¡±

    Ries shook her head, slumping back in her chair. ¡°Elections? You mean the thing we¡¯re pretending to offer while the Empress keeps all the power? How are we even supposed to make that work?¡±

    ¡°We need to craft it carefully, Madam Prime Minister. The Empress wants to ensure the constitution doesn¡¯t threaten her sovereignty, but the provinces and most common people are demanding more freedom to decide for themselves. Elections are the only way to appease the shouting protestors.¡±

    ¡°Without pissing off the Empress,¡± Viviana muttered, finally snapping back to life, rubbing her temples. ¡°Which means we¡¯re drafting an election system that looks democratic but isn¡¯t.¡±

    Ries pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°Well do we have a draft of it then?¡±

    ¡°Actually, yes. We have three proposals. The first is we follow the democratic example of the Kingdom of Rozafir, which is a constitutional monarchy. The second is we follow the Republic of Avarze¡¯s democracy. The third is we make our own type of democracy and we¡¯ve coined the term ¡®Imperial Democracy¡¯,¡± Clarissa explained. ¡°Of course, if we choose to follow either Rozafir or Avarze, it would have its drawbacks.¡±

    ¡°Imperial Democracy.¡± Ries snorts, finding the absurdity of that name. ¡°Then please do explain them to me.¡±

    Clarissa cleared her throat, flipping through her notes. "The first option, following the democratic model of Rozafir, would make us a constitutional monarchy with a parliament elected by the people. The Empress would retain a ceremonial role, but most of the real decision-making power would go to the elected officials. The risk here is obvious¡ªthe Empress could lose her grip on governance, and the nobility wouldn¡¯t be happy about their influence diminishing either."

    Ries frowned. "So, the crown becomes a puppet. Not ideal."

    Clarissa nodded. "Exactly. Then there''s the Republic of Avarze¡¯s system¡ªpure democracy, with a president as head of state and no monarchy. The idea is radical, and it¡¯s doubtful the Empress or the nobles would tolerate it for even a moment."

    Viviana scoffed, crossing her arms. "An Empire without an Empress? Not happening."

    "Which brings us to the third option," Clarissa continued. "Imperial Democracy¡ªour own creation. The Empress stays in power as the ultimate authority, but elections are held for a provincial council. This council would handle local governance, while all matters of the empire remain with the crown. It would give the illusion of democracy, appeasing the masses without actually threatening the Empress¡¯ sovereignty."

    Ries frowned. ¡°So it¡¯s a charade. We let the provinces think they have power, but the Empress still controls everything that really matters.¡±

    Clarissa nodded. ¡°Not entirely, Madam Anise. There¡¯s more nuance to it. We have plans to democratize the National Assembly, giving the commoners a voice. The nobility would still have their own assembly¡ªa House of Lords, so to speak. Both assemblies would work in tandem, representing their respective classes. It creates the appearance of a balanced system.¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow. ¡°And in reality?¡±

    ¡°In reality, the Empress would still have veto power over any decision made by both assemblies. She could override the National Assembly or the Lords¡¯ decisions if they conflict with imperial interests,¡± Clarissa explained.

    ¡°It¡¯s a managed democracy,¡± Viviana yawns. ¡°We let the people have their say, but the Empress still has the final word.¡±

    ¡°This whole setup sounds like a powder keg. How do we make sure it doesn¡¯t blow up in our faces?¡± Ries asked. ¡°And what¡ªwho would appoint the ministers? Who would become Prime Minister? The elected representatives?¡±

    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Clarissa replied, shuffling her papers as she explained. ¡°The Empress would still appoint the ministers, including the Prime Minister. While the elected representatives would propose candidates, the final decision remains with the crown. Essentially, the elected officials act as advisors, and the Empress decides who among them has her favor.¡±

    Ries looked to Viviana, who nodded slowly. Then she turned to Clarissa. ¡°Alright then, what are the specific articles?¡±

    Clarissa cleared her throat, adjusting her papers as she prepared to delve into the details. ¡°Under Article 1 through 55, section A through G, Clause 34, Sub-clause 17, the assemblies¡ªboth National and Noble¡ªare to be structured as follows: The National Assembly will have representatives elected by the provinces every five years, with proportional representation based on population size. The Assembly of Lords, on the other hand, will consist of hereditary seats held by the nobility, each noble family entitled to a seat based on land ownership and title."

    "Both assemblies can propose legislation, debate national policies, and suggest reforms. However, key imperial matters¡ªsuch as foreign policy, military, and taxation¡ªremain strictly under the Empress¡¯ purview. They can propose, but the Empress retains veto power over any law passed by either assembly."

    ¡°The assemblies may nominate candidates, but the Empress makes the final decision. The Prime Minister acts as a bridge between the Empress and the assemblies, enforcing imperial policy while maintaining provincial interests.¡±

    Viviana smirked, folding her arms. "In other words, you''re the face of this new ''democracy,'' Anise. They vote, but you¡¯re the one who tells them what the crown has decided."

    Ries exhaled sharply. "Sounds like I¡¯m in the perfect position to be hated by both sides." She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment before speaking again. ¡°Alright, what about elections? What¡¯s the plan there?"

    Clarissa flipped another page. " Elections will be held in the provinces every five years. However, voting will be limited to property owners, those with significant wealth or land, and citizens with specific credentials, like military service. Voters must have registered beforehand to vote, is literate, and has to be a minimum of twenty (20) years old for both male and female. Citizens born outside of the Empire are not allowed to vote and criminals are also not allowed to vote."

    Clarissa paused for a moment to sip her coffee, then she continued. "Additionally, voting rights can be revoked for anyone found guilty of treason, conspiracy, or any crime deemed to threaten the stability of the Empire. In order to maintain social order, the criteria for eligibility are strict, but it¡¯s designed to ensure that only those who have a vested interest in the Empire¡¯s well-being can participate."

    "We¡¯re excluding a lot of people, right? The poor, foreigners, anyone who doesn¡¯t fit this neat little box of ''loyal and useful.'' And we expect them to just¡­ accept that?" Ries questioned.

    "Not like they have much of a choice, do they? The more dissatisfied voices we silence, the less opposition we face. As long as we keep them busy with work and bread, they¡¯ll grumble but not rise up." Viviana smirked as she leaned on her chair.

    Ries let out a deep sigh. "Alright¡­ We give them elections, but the leash is still firmly in the Empress¡¯ hands. Fine. What else do we need to hammer out?"

    Clarissa flipped to the last page of the binder. "That¡¯s the bulk of it. We just need to finalize the phrasing for governance provisions and the process for emergency powers."

    "Emergency powers..." Ries shook her head. "Let''s hope it doesn¡¯t come to that."

    ¡°Alright, after this you will have to present it to the Empress for her approval.¡± Viviana slumped on her chair and closed her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m taking a light nap.¡±

    Ries shook her head and sighed as she picked up the large binder, almost heavy binder and made her way out of the room. The Empress was in her palace, and she would have to make her way there.

    The palace is obviously in the opposite end of the boulevard, and she didn¡¯t walk alone anymore. She was guarded by the Royal Guards as she walked. Stared down and subject of murmurs much to her displeasure.

    Eventually, she reached the Palace and was immediately granted an audience with the Empress who now sat behind her desk of her office.

    ¡°Ah, Prime Minister,¡± the Empress greeted, setting aside a paper she had been reading with a deliberate grace. ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit today?¡±

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Ries set down the large binder onto the coffee table with a loud thud. ¡°The first draft of the Constitution as you requested.¡±

    The Empress¡¯ eyes flickered with mild interest as she rose from her desk and moved toward the coffee table with unhurried steps, lowering herself elegantly onto the sofa. ¡°Ah, the Constitution. Do proceed, Prime Minister. I trust you will guide me through the details.¡±

    Suppressing the weariness that tugged at her after hours of review, Ries sat across from the Empress and opened the binder. ¡°The draft begins with the fundamental rights and duties of citizens, establishing essential freedoms, such as those of speech, trade, and¡ª¡±

    The Empress raised a slender hand, halting Ries mid-sentence. ¡°Let us pause there,¡± she said, reaching into the ornate drawer of the coffee table and placed three neatly stacked documents before Ries, each bearing the imperial seal. ¡°I have prepared these for your consideration. Do examine them.¡±

    Ries paused mid-sentence, her brows furrowing slightly as she reached for the documents the Empress had placed on the table.

    ¡°What are these?¡± Ries asked cautiously as she unpacked the first document.

    ¡°Two of these contain my personal annotations on your draft. The third... is a compilation of grievances submitted by the nobility and military. It seems, as always, they are not without their concerns.¡± The faintest trace of amusement lingered in her voice, though her expression remained composed.

    Ries nodded, though inwardly she was already bracing herself for the mental gymnastics ahead. The Empress seemed more and more comfortable using whatever type of sorcery called royal language to her.

    She cautiously flipped the first page, her eyes narrowing as she skimmed the title: SLAVERY

    ¡°Slavery?¡± Ries looked up. ¡°You mean the abolition of slavery?¡±

    The Empress, arms now crossed elegantly over her chest, gave a soft, bemused chuckle. ¡°Ah, Prime Minister, you must realize by now that such matters are never so simple.¡± She gestured languidly towards the document. ¡°I have provided two sets of my own thoughts, and well, grievances from the aristocracy. It appears they are somewhat... perturbed by the notion.¡±

    Ries glanced at the Empress, confused. ¡°Perturbed by the abolition of slavery?¡±

    ¡°Is it not a barbaric practice, in your estimation? The enslavement of another is, to my mind, wholly an affront to human dignity. Treating people as if they were mere chattel¡ªno more than beasts of burden¡ªis morally repugnant.¡± She tilted her head slightly. ¡°Furthermore, the economic argument against it grows thinner by the day. The rise of mechanization is rendering the institution obsolete. In time, even the most stubborn of our nobles will realize this... or so I¡¯ve been led to believe.¡±

    Ries shook her head. ¡°No, I meant, the abolition of slavery? Now?¡±

    Although the idea seemed morally right, Ries knew the practical implications could be far-reaching. For centuries, slavery had been an integral part of any Kingdom¡¯s social and economic structure. How then, would they construct buildings, build roads, or farm large fields without this workforce? The nobility, many of whom relied on slaves for these menial tasks, would certainly not be pleased.

    The Empress, however, was unperturbed. "Indeed, now is the most opportune moment. Do you not think it regressive to cling to such antiquated systems? Make no mistake, I am not a reactionary. Machines¡ªmechanisms that never tire nor revolt¡ªare poised to replace human labor. The nobility will, of course, resist, but I believe they can be swayed by more lucrative ventures. After all, wealth and power are more malleable than they appear."

    Ries blinked, nodding along, trying to keep pace with the Empress'' words. "So... Your Majesty wants to include the abolition of slavery in the constitution?"

    "Precisely," the Empress smirked. "From henceforth, the Empire shall harbor neither slaves nor serfs. The practice is to be abolished entirely. This is a decree." She leaned back, resting her head on her hand. "And if you''re concerned about the former slaveholders protesting, worry not. I am fully prepared to purchase their slaves myself, liberating them from bondage, and doing so with the royal family''s wealth."

    Ries felt her brow furrow slightly. She could already envision the chaos this decree might bring among the slaveholders. Still, there was no doubt the Empress had thought this through.

    ¡°I see¡­ I will bring this into discussion with my¡­ Cabinet,¡± she still had weird feelings calling it her cabinet. Like some kind of fever dream. ¡°Then what about the other document?¡±

    She put back the document inside its folder and reached the second document. Unpacking it and flipping open the first page, Ries¡¯ brow furrowed slightly as she scanned the document, her eyebrow arching at the title. ¡°The role of the Temple?¡± She looked up to the Empress, somewhat perplexed.

    ¡°Are you acquainted with the Temple, Prime Minister?¡±¡± the Empress inquired, her tone taking on a measured, almost rhetorical quality.

    ¡°Somewhat.¡± No she didn¡¯t. Religion had never been her concern, especially not a human one. Why would someone like her¡ªa Beastman¡ªbother with a human faith?

    ¡°Given that this Empire operates as an absolute theocratic monarchy, it would be beneficial for you to become more versed,¡± the Empress remarked. ¡°To clarify, the Temple is the supreme religious body of the Khaos faith, which venerates the great Chaos Dragon¡ªmy own esteemed ancestor. Officially, they are known as the Archonate of Chaos, though the common folk simply call it the Temple."

    Ries couldn¡¯t suppress a grimace. Not only was the Empire governed by an ancient lineage tied to a god-like dragon, but now she was forced to navigate the intricacies of its dominant religion too. Not reactionary, huh? The irony wasn¡¯t lost on her. They weren¡¯t merely holding onto tradition, they were actively entrenching it further into law.

    The Empress continued. ¡°Their role in the constitution must be clearly defined, Prime Minister. Though I, as Empress, and as Archon, am the highest authority of the Temple, it is prudent to formalize their position within the legal framework of the state. It¡¯s a matter of ensuring balance and delineating the boundaries of power. The Archonate may hold spiritual influence, but they are to remain, officially, beneath the throne. Don¡¯t you agree that such clarity will prevent any... misunderstandings?"

    Ries nodded slowly. ¡°So, the Archonate¡¯s influence will be codified but limited?¡±

    "Precisely," the Empress replied smoothly. ¡°The people will still look to them for spiritual guidance, but all matters of state shall ultimately flow through the crown. This distinction will ensure stability, prevent overreach, and quell any potential for ecclesiastical dominance,¡± she leaned forward. ¡°We are modernizing, are we not?"

    Ries exhaled, realizing just how deep the balancing act would be. Religion, politics, slavery¡ªall under one roof, and all hers to navigate. "I¡¯ll make sure it¡¯s handled carefully, Your Majesty."

    ¡°Mhm. Then you are dismissed. Don¡¯t bother with the complaints of obsolete nobles. Leave the binder here, I shall review it myself.¡± The Empress waved her off dismissively.

    Ries stood up, offering a respectful nod as she prepared to leave. ¡°Of course, Your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°Oh, please wait a moment,¡± the Empress stood up and fixed her dress. Before handing her a paper document. ¡°Do sign my decree.¡±

    Ries looked down on the paper. Looks like she was serious about the whole abolition thing.

    When she returned to her office, it was well into the afternoon. Clarissa had stacked neat piles of paper onto her desk, each labeled in order of importance. These were papers, documents she had to personally rubber stamp and pass into law.

    She sighed as soon as she sat down. Each document represented yet another layer of bureaucracy, decisions that would ripple through the empire. Some were minor regulations, others carried more significant consequences.

    Pen, ready.

    Rubber stamp, ready.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­¡±

    One of the more pressing issues were to restore the public¡¯s confidence in the government. Currently, they see it as a bloated, corrupt machine. The government¡¯s image had been marred by scandals, incompetence, and what most saw as an indifference to the common folk.

    She picked up the top file and began flipping through its contents. "Public confidence, huh?"

    Though she wholeheartedly agreed that the government was corrupt, bloated, and marred by scandals, Ries had to admit it was also frighteningly efficient. It managed to govern a sprawling empire, after all. There was no denying the cold, bureaucratic machine had its uses, especially when it came to maintaining order across vast territories.

    But for all it¡¯s efficiency, it has a glaring drawback. It¡¯s size.

    Too big too fail, and too big to care.

    The system¡¯s sheer enormity made it slow, unresponsive to the needs of the people. It was as if the government operated in its own world, far removed from the daily struggles of its citizens. Decisions were made in distant offices by people who would never set foot in the streets of the common folk. It was a machine, all right¡ªone that churned relentlessly but with little regard for those caught in its gears.

    Imagine being a common citizen just trying to apply for something as simple as a license. The process itself seemed designed to drain your patience and hope. First, you''d have to visit a government office, fill out a form¡ªafter waiting in a long line, of course. After submitting that form, you¡¯d be told to return the next day, no exceptions.

    When you return, you¡¯re required to bring a set of relevant documents. No problem, right? Except if you forgot even one, the whole application was rejected immediately, forcing you to start over. Assuming you had everything, you''d then wait a few hours for an examination or assessment, only to be told to return again the next day.

    On the third day, you''d bring even more documents, maybe take another test, and be told that the final decision could take up to two weeks. Two weeks! And through it all, you were expected to carry every single piece of paper related to your case¡ªmissing even one meant the entire process would collapse in on itself, throwing you back to the start. There were no exceptions, no leniency, no understanding. Just more bureaucracy.

    And it wasn¡¯t just the common citizens suffering under this oppressive bureaucracy¡ªnobles, too, were subject to the same mind-numbing process. Even with their influence and status, they had to wade through the same swamp of endless paperwork and procedural hurdles. But perhaps most concerning of all was the toll it took on the business sector, particularly the entrepreneurs and industrialists who built the factories and products that kept the empire¡¯s economy running.

    These were the people whose innovation and hard work created jobs, produced goods, and fueled progress. Yet, they found themselves entangled in the same web of inefficiency. Starting a business, securing contracts, or acquiring permits took weeks, sometimes months, as they were forced to jump through bureaucratic hoops just to keep their enterprises afloat. Every delay cost them time, money, and opportunities. And of course, economic growth.

    So Ries¡¯ job was clear, then. To cut the red tape. But how?

    Luckily, Clarissa had drafted possible solutions on the paper she¡¯s holding right now. Along with a fifty-page document on the whole thing¡­ oh boy more reading.

    She sighed and flipped open the thick document. Fifty pages of this? She thought, Clarissa had been thorough¡ªshe had to give her credit for that¡ªbut the sheer volume of information felt overwhelming.

    The first section outlined the key inefficiencies in the system, breaking down the complex web of offices, approvals, and middlemen that clogged up every process.

    The proposed solution was to merge redundant offices and cut down the number of steps in common procedures. Clarissa had also suggested to expand the filling system used by the ISD and apply it across all government departments. The ISD¡¯s record-keeping system was known for its meticulous organization and efficiency¡ªevery document filed and retrievable in mere minutes. If they could implement something similar across the other ministries, it would save countless hours of bureaucratic headaches.

    Ries leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen on the desk. Expanding the ISD¡¯s filing system was a solid start, but it wasn¡¯t a magic fix. There were still deep-seated issues in how the Empire functioned¡ªtoo many layers of approvals, too many people involved in decisions that could be made much faster.

    Could it be fixed using technology? It may be expensive and untested, sure, but technology had gone a long way. She passed by a store selling this new item called Televisions. Fascinating, but expensive.

    If not technology¡­ Her mind drifted toward the arcane. Magic had long been a tool of the Empire, though everyone can manifest them, it is used primarily by the nobility and powerful institutions. While it was more stable and reliable than most experimental technologies, it carried its own set of problems. The Arcane Arts were expensive to harness and required highly trained practitioners, most of whom had their own agendas and loyalties. Still, it was an untapped resource in the realm of administration.

    What if they could use magic to bypass some of the bureaucratic hurdles? Spells for rapid communication between departments, enchantments that could organize and sort documents, or even magically bound contracts that could instantly finalize approvals once conditions were met.

    These were far more efficient than any telegraph, human workforce, or any middlemen.

    The Arcane Arts could cut the red tape, but how to integrate it without giving more power to the nobles who already control most of it?

    Skimming through the pages, a note made by Clarissa caught her eye. ¡°Consider a partnership with the neutral academia. Less political baggage.¡±

    That was it. Instead of relying on noble families who would leverage their arcane power for political gain, she could form partnerships with the independent academia. They wouldn¡¯t be tied to the aristocracy¡ªostensibly¡ªand their students and researchers were often eager for opportunities to test their theories in practical applications.

    She immediately closed the document and searched for another report that had caught her attention earlier. Her eyes scanned the desk, and then¡ªthere it was. She snatched it up and quickly began flipping through the pages. A request for a bail out from the Valerian Royal Academy.

    The Academy, with its sprawling campus nestled on the outskirts of the capital, functioned like a self-contained city, its own micro-state, if you will. Far enough to enjoy its independence, but close enough to maintain influence. She didn¡¯t know all the specifics, but she knew enough that it was a massive institution, home to thousands of staff members and even more students. Its reputation for academic and arcane excellence was unparalleled, especially among the aristocratic elite who sent their heirs to study there.

    Recently, though, the Academy had been hemorrhaging money, spending far more than it could sustain. For an institution of its stature, that wasn¡¯t surprising¡ªprestige came with a price. They had expensive tastes, from research projects that devoured funds to the upkeep of the ancient buildings. Now they were coming to her, hat in hand, seeking financial support.

    Perfect. She could grant them their funding in exchange for their assistance. It wasn¡¯t blackmail¡ªit was just¡­ politics. An exchange of favors. Classic.

    ¡°Ries, you genius,¡± she thought to herself, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips. ¡°You¡¯ve done it again.¡±

    Just then, the door creaked open, and Clarissa¡¯s head appeared. "Madam Prime Minister," she said. "They¡¯re ready for you."

    Ries blinked, momentarily pulled from her victorious reverie. "Who?"

    "The radio broadcasters," Clarissa explained. "The equipment is set up, and it¡¯s time for your first broadcast."

    ¡°¡­¡±

    I have a broadcast!?

    <hr>

    ¡°I¡¯m home,¡± Herman entered his house after another day of heavy work, setting down his worn satchel by the door. His literacy helped him get a job at a warehouse as a Supervisor.

    His wife, Clara, looked up from the kitchen, smiling softly at him as he entered. The smell of stew filled the small but cozy home.

    "Welcome back," Clara greeted, wiping her hands on a cloth. "Dinner''s almost ready."

    Herman stretched, his back aching from another long day at the warehouse. His position as a supervisor was a step up from his previous job as a dockworker, and his literacy had helped him secure it. But the long hours and responsibility still weighed heavily on him.

    "How was work today?" Clara asked, setting the table with simple wooden plates and utensils.

    "Busy as ever," Herman said, sitting down with a sigh. "The paperwork¡¯s piling up. Never thought I¡¯d miss just moving crates." He chuckled wearily.

    Clara smiled. ¡°Anna bought a radio, just today.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± Herman sat up straighter, his brow furrowing. "A radio? How much did she spend on that?"

    Clara chuckled softly, brushing off his worry. "It wasn¡¯t as expensive as you might think. She saved up for months and got a second-hand one from old Felton. Apparently, he¡¯s upgrading to a fancier model."

    Herman shook his head, still incredulous. "A radio... in our house. What''s the world coming to?"

    "You should''ve seen her face when she brought it in, like she¡¯d just won the lottery."

    "Well, I hope she knows how to use it. What does she plan to listen to anyway?"

    Clara shrugged. "News, music, stories... maybe she¡¯ll learn something useful. It''s all the rage in the city now."

    Herman sighed. ¡°Just propaganda all around¡­ What about her tuition? I can¡¯t let her opportunity to go to the Academy slip by, three hundred GOLDEN Virs PER term, how ridiculous is that?!¡±

    ¡°Dinner¡¯s ready. Can you call out Anna? She¡¯s in her room.¡±

    Herman nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Three hundred Golden Virs... I¡¯ll never get used to that," he muttered as he stood up. "Alright, I¡¯ll get her."

    He walked to the hallway and knocked on Anna''s door. "Anna, dinner¡¯s ready."

    A muffled response came from behind the door. "Coming!"

    Herman sighed again, shaking his head as he returned to the dining room. "She¡¯s still in there, glued to that radio, I bet."

    Clara smiled softly as she began setting the table. "At least she¡¯s curious. You remember what it was like to be her age, don¡¯t you?"

    "Yeah," Herman replied, sitting back down. "But curiosity doesn¡¯t pay for Academy tuition." He grumbled.

    Anna came bursting out of her room, excitement practically radiating from her. ¡°Mom, Dad! The new Prime Minister is going to make a speech!¡± She held out the radio triumphantly.

    Herman glanced at the device, a frown settling on his face. ¡°That Beastman, huh? What¡¯s she got to say that¡¯s so important?¡±

    Anna ignored his grumbling and set the radio on the table, adjusting the dial until a faint crackle gave way to a voice.

    "¡ªUhm¡­ *FAINT RUSTLING OF PAPER* is this on? It is? Oh. Uh, well, I wo¡ªI won¡¯t take up much of your time. I have been mandated by Her Imperial Majesty to begin drafting a new centralized constitution for our empire¡ª¡±

    Herman raised an eyebrow, his frown deepening as he listened to the awkward start of the speech. ¡°She doesn¡¯t even sound confident,¡± he muttered under his breath.

    Anna, however, was completely engrossed, her eyes wide with excitement as the speech continued.

    ¡°¡ªUhm¡­ oh, I have signed a decree from her Imperial Majesty in abolishing the practice of slavery effective immediately.¡±

    Herman¡¯s eyes widened, and his arms dropped from his chest. ¡°Slavery¡­ abolished?¡± he whispered.

    ¡°¡ªAnd, uh, to those affected by this decision, the Crown will, of course, provide compensation to former slaveholders. However, we cannot allow the injustices of the past to define our future¡­ *VOICE WHISPERING TO THE SIDE* is that it?¡±

    Clara glanced at Herman. ¡°Well, that¡¯s something, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Herman shook his head, still in shock. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d live to see the day. A Beastman, of all people, abolishing slavery? What kind of world are we living in?¡±

    Anna, her eyes wide with admiration, grinned. ¡°She¡¯s doing what¡¯s right, Dad. She¡¯s standing up for people who¡¯ve been treated unfairly. Isn¡¯t that what you always told me to do?¡±

    Herman looked at his daughter, conflicted. He¡¯d taught her to stand up for justice, but this? It was a monumental shift in the fabric of their world which was turned upside down. ¡°Yeah, but¡­¡± He trailed off, uncertain how to process it.

    ¡°¡ªI¡¯ll, uh, make another statement soon. Thank you for your time.¡± There was a brief moment of silence before the radio announcer cut back in, reiterating the Prime Minister¡¯s historic decision, their boring flat voice continued on with the affairs of today.

    Herman stared at the radio, the monotone voice of the announcer fading into the background. This wasn¡¯t just a small policy shift, it was a fundamental change to the Empire¡¯s way of life which had existed for centuries, and one that would ripple through every corner of society. His own livelihood, the structures he¡¯d known his entire life¡ªthey were all built on these ancient hierarchies.

    That was all he ever knew, and all he cared to know.

    Clara set a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Things will change, but maybe for the better. This could be a fresh start for so many.¡±

    Herman rubbed his face, sighing deeply. ¡°I know¡­ It¡¯s just hard to believe it¡¯s happening. And by someone like her.¡±

    Anna stood up, hands clenched with determination. ¡°She¡¯s a leader, Dad. She¡¯s brave enough to change things, even if it''s uncomfortable for people like you. Isn¡¯t that what you want?¡±

    Herman met his daughter¡¯s eyes, seeing her hope and idealism, and he couldn¡¯t help but smile, albeit faintly. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m just getting too old for all these changes.¡± He chuckled, but there was no mistaking the worry in his eyes.

    <hr>

    The Valerian Royal Academy stood as a beacon of excellence within the Empire, renowned for shaping the minds and futures of the elite. From academic studies, to arcane arts, and most important of all, combat; its curriculum was a crucible that tested students to their very limits.

    It occupies large swathes of land dominated by gothic buildings, the most popular spots were the park, where students would often congregate; and the arena, where most competitions happen.

    To attend this Academy was to secure a future laden with opportunity. Graduates frequently went on to become leaders, scholars, and influential figures in society, their success assured by the institution''s rigorous education and the connections it fostered.

    Well, except for one Elisabeth Aloysius-Margarethe. A striking figure at the heart of Academy life, who stood out even among the privileged elite. With her flowing dark hair and piercing red eyes, she exuded an air of perfection. The daughter of a powerful Marquis, Elisabeth was the embodiment of aristocratic grace and intelligence¡ªeverything a young nobleman could desire in a woman. Her beauty was matched only by her relentless work ethic and sharp mind, earning her the admiration of many.

    Yet, for all the attention she garnered, Elisabeth had also amassed a quiet number of enemies. Her impeccable demeanor masked a ruthlessness that had wronged more than a few of her fellow students¡ªespecially a certain downtrodden commoner girl who had somehow earned a place at the Academy.

    Among the whispered rumors, there was one consensus: Elisabeth acted every part the classic villainess.

    Wait¡­Villainess?

    Unbeknownst to the rest of the Academy, she was not who they thought she was. For Elisabeth had been reincarnated¡ªtransported from another world into this one. And, as if that weren¡¯t complicated enough, she had found herself inhabiting the body of a villainess from a game she had once played. A game called [My Handsome Prince]

    A villainess destined for a tragic end in every possible outcome.

    Elisabeth knew exactly how this story went. She remembered every twist, every betrayal, every doomed romance. And if she didn¡¯t act soon, her fate would be sealed just like the character in the game.

    One morning, or night, Elisabeth found herself in the midst of the dreaded condemnation event¡ªthe very scene that she had feared the most since realizing her reincarnation into this world. The grand ballroom of the academy, filled with students, glittered under crystal chandeliers, but the atmosphere was anything but celebratory. Whispers rippled through the crowd as accusations of her villainous plots were laid bare for all to hear. There she stood, at the center of the storm, her carefully crafted schemes unraveling before her eyes.

    Her heart raced, but her face remained stoic. She had played this moment a thousand times in her mind¡ªafter all, this was where the villainess was supposed to fall. Her engagement to the dashing foreign prince, who now stared at her with cold contempt, was shattered in front of everyone. He had just publicly declared the end of their arrangement, severing their political ties with a single sentence. His eyes lingered briefly on the heroine, whose demure beauty contrasted sharply with Elisabeth''s now-tainted reputation.

    So, it¡¯s happening... just like in the game, she thought, a sinking feeling filling her chest.

    In the aftermath, when Elisabeth had the chance to gather her thoughts, she finally began to piece together the truth. The moment she had been thrust into this world, the narrative was already in motion, and it was too late to reverse the damage. The heroine, with her innocent charm and perfect timing, had already claimed the hearts of the various suitors¡ªthe capture targets, as Elisabeth knew them. Each one of them had been destined to fall in love with the heroine, and now they were firmly on her side, leaving Elisabeth isolated in the court of public opinion.

    And worse still, Elisabeth knew what was coming. In one of the later routes, her downfall wasn¡¯t just social ruin¡ªit was execution. She had been cast as the villainess, and villains didn¡¯t get happy endings.

    I have to change things, she realized, panic gripping her. I can''t let the story play out like this.

    Then she remembered. The Academy''s financial collapse, she thought, her mind rushing back to the lore she barely remembered. There was an event¡ªan essential, but almost forgotten, plot point before the game¡¯s final stretch. The academy, burdened by insurmountable debt, would be forced to sell a rare and ancient magical tome to a wealthy merchant to stave off bankruptcy. But that decision would set in motion a series of events leading to disaster.

    The second-to-last boss of the game, an enigmatic and depressed mage, would appear, intent on stealing the tome to perform a forbidden ritual¡ªresurrection. It wasn¡¯t clear though on who would she resurrect. The chaos that followed was a key moment in the game''s plot, one that would lead to a climactic battle where the heroine and her harem of devoted suitors would swoop in, save the day, and ensure the academy¡¯s continued survival.

    But that battle would be the opportune time to escape the academy and vanish.

    In the original timeline, the villainess had long been disgraced by the time of this event, a mere side note as the heroes carried out their destinies. But now that Elisabeth had foreknowledge of the coming chaos, she could use it to her advantage. When the academy faced its darkest hour and all eyes were focused on the threat of the mage, she could slip away unnoticed. If she played her cards right, she could secure the tome before anyone else, and flee before the final confrontation ever began.

    It wasn¡¯t a perfect plan, but it was something.

    The event wouldn¡¯t take place until the next semester, which meant she had time. Time to prepare, to gather resources, and to solidify her plan. Elisabeth couldn¡¯t afford to make any mistakes. One misstep, and the heroine would complete her story arc, ensuring that Elisabeth¡¯s fate ended in a noose or, worse, an ignoble execution at the hands of the academy itself.

 Part XVIII: Trouble In Paradise

    Where the cold, moisture-laden winds of the east collide with the warm, arid air of the west, a unique atmospheric phenomenon takes shape. These opposing forces meet over the vast expanse of the Swirling Sea, creating a perpetual cycle of weather patterns that give life to the Coroner Islands¡ªa tropical archipelago born from the harmony of nature''s extremes.

    Warm ocean currents from the western waters fuel the formation of lush rainforests and vibrant ecosystems, while the eastern winds carry just enough cool air to temper the heat, creating a balanced, habitable climate. The Swirling Sea, true to its name, is characterized by its ever-rotating currents and shifting winds, which make for treacherous navigation but also provide the fertile rains that nourish the islands year-round.

    The Coroner Islands, an isolated chain in the heart of the Swirling Ocean, are officially under the rule of the Shogunate of Iritora¡ªa once-proud kingdom now caught between two great powers vying for control. Geographically distant and politically marginalized, the islands have become a focal point in the ongoing struggle for influence in the region.

    Historically, the Coroner Islands were the sole gateway through which foreign merchants could trade with Iritora during the country¡¯s period of isolation. However, with the expansionist ambitions of the Valerian Empire, the islands have fallen under increasing imperial control, their autonomy gradually eroded by Valeria¡¯s growing presence.

    The Shogunate¡¯s rule over the islands is now mostly symbolic, with local governance subject to Valerian oversight. The Coroner Islands have become a key strategic outpost for the Empire. Valeria¡¯s trade routes stretch across the Swirling Ocean, using the islands as a hub for goods, resources, military, and political leverage. Traditional island customs, once protected by the Shogunate, are slowly being replaced by Valerian trade laws and bureaucratic control.

    For Valeria, the Coroner Islands hold far more than economic value. Their strategic position in the Swirling Ocean is key to controlling critical sea routes, giving the empire a foothold to project its power across the surrounding regions.

    Mainly, the islands serve as a buffer zone in the rivalry between Valerian Empire and the Aquilean Empire¡ªan ancient civilization of sea-people who have dominated the oceans for centuries.

    The Aquileans, with their mastery of the seas and natural affinity for maritime life, have long considered themselves the unchallenged rulers of the ocean. Their sleek, organic ships¡ªgrown from living coral and powered by bioluminescent algae¡ªpatrolled the waters uncontested. But with Valeria¡¯s recent development of metal-hulled ships, the balance of power has shifted considerably.

    For the Aquileans, these steel vessels represent more than a technological threat¡ªthey symbolize the land dweller¡¯s ambition to encroach on their maritime hegemony. What was once an empire divided by land and sea is now inching closer to outright naval confrontation. The Coroner Islands, positioned at the frontier between Valerian and Aquilean-controlled waters, have become a flashpoint in the conflict.

    Valeria''s militarization of the islands¡ªbuilding outposts, docking fleets, and establishing logistical bases¡ªhas not gone unnoticed by the ever-watchful Aquileans.

    Tasked with overseeing the entire Swirling Fleet naval base in the Coroner Islands, Lord-Admiral Montague found himself in a role that felt more like exile than duty.

    It¡¯s a boring job, he had to admit. Being sent to the islands as an Admiral such as himself is an obvious act to isolate him from the political scene back in the mainland. But for him, he had learned to embrace the slower pace of island life. The occasional skirmish with the Shogunate or a fleeting Aquilean ship presented more of a distraction than a threat.

    "My Lord, I highly advise against that decision,¡± Montague''s aide voiced his concerns while preparing to line up a shot.

    Montague smirked, adjusting his stance. "Watch and learn, kid." He took aim and fired, the harpoon piercing the water with precision to strike a shark that had ventured too close to the surface. Catching fish had become one of his favorite pastimes, a simple joy for a simple man.

    Montague leaned back in his chair, satisfied with his marksmanship as the shark was hauled aboard. He watched with a smug grin as his aide worked the winch, pulling the massive fish onto the deck. ¡°Told you, kid, nothing to it.¡±

    But as they began to move to their next fishing spot, a faint rumbling reached Montague¡¯s ears. At first, he thought it might be the ship¡¯s engines, but the sound seemed to be growing louder¡ªand coming from below.

    He shot up, brow furrowing as the deep vibration only intensified. The crew around him exchanged uneasy glances. "That¡¯s not the engines," Montague muttered under his breath, gripping the railing.

    The water beneath the ship began to ripple unnaturally, and the once calm sea felt like it was holding its breath. He knew all too well what this sound was¡­ an Aquilean ship is going to surface. He had heard this sound before¡ªthe unsettling groan of living coral stretching and twisting from the depths. An Aquilean ship was about to surface.

    "Coral freaks," he muttered, his nose wrinkling at the thought. Aquilean ships weren''t like the proud iron-clad vessels of Valeria. No, they were crafted from living corals, pulsating and breathing as if they were extensions of the sea itself. And with them came a distinct, pungent odor¡ªan overwhelming stench of salt and brine mixed with something far more organic, like rotting seaweed.

    The ripples in the water transformed into violent waves, and moments later, the massive coral-encrusted hull of an Aquilean warship broke through the surface, water cascading off its rough, reef-like exterior. It was a ship like no other, its jagged form towering over Montague¡¯s vessel, its vibrant hues of green and purple shimmering in the sunlight.

    Montague sighed, glancing down at his casual attire¡ªan open, flowery shirt and white shorts. Hardly fitting for a meeting with the Aquileans. Diplomacy wasn¡¯t on the schedule today.

    The Aquilean warriors, with their towering frames and pale skin, glistened under the sun as they climbed onto the deck of their living coral warship. Each one bore a serpent tail that coiled behind them, their bronze armor reflecting a greenish hue from the sea below.

    Montague spat into the sea. "Let¡¯s see what they want this time."

    "Well, gentlemen, what¡¯s the occasion?" Montague called out in near-perfect Aquilean, trying to maintain his usual bravado despite the clear disparity in formality. He adjusted his shirt as though it made any difference.

    One of the Aquilean warriors, a figure even taller than the others, stepped forward. Montague could tell he was a nobleman simply by the fact he wore a toga instead of armor, a diplomat, perhaps. His voice was deep, but it flowed like water over smooth stones. "Lord-Admiral Montague, we come bearing a message from the Council of the Abyss. You are hereby under arrest for illegal harming of ocean life!"

    For a moment, the tension that had gripped the Valerian crew was shattered, not by violence but by sheer absurdity. Montague blinked, caught off guard. A beat passed, then another. The situation felt less like a naval standoff and more like a ridiculous misunderstanding. "Wait, what?" Montague barked a laugh. "Arrested? For shark fishing?"

    But before he could fully process the situation, the Aquilean warriors acted with swift precision. Their serpent-like tails propelled them forward, leaping from their coral ship and landing on Montague''s deck with startling grace. The Valerian crew scrambled, but there was no resistance¡ªjust shock and confusion.

    "You''re joking, right?" Montague''s voice was edged with disbelief as two Aquileans grabbed his arms with surprising strength. "For a fish?"

    The Aquilean diplomat''s gaze remained unflinching. "The Council of the Abyss takes the protection of ocean life very seriously. You have violated our sacred laws."

    Montague struggled briefly, his frustration building. "You''ve got to be kidding me! It''s a damn fish! Is this how you people handle diplomacy?"

    The diplomat gave no response, his calm demeanor only adding to Montague''s irritation. Montague was shoved aboard the coral-encrusted deck of the Aquilean ship, the pungent odor of saltwater and living reef assaulting his nose. The vibrant, pulsating coral seemed to pulse with life, and the ship itself felt more like a creature than a vessel. He grimaced, trying not to breathe too deeply as his mind whirled.

    False charges. It had to be. In his mind, fishing for sport wasn¡¯t a crime, let alone an offense worth detaining an admiral over. But these Aquileans clearly took their laws¡ªhowever absurd¡ªvery seriously. Montague, his hands still bound, glanced back at his own ship where his crew stood frozen, unsure whether to fight or flee.

    The empire wouldn''t take kindly to one of their admirals being hauled off in chains for such a trivial matter. He could already imagine the political storm brewing back on the mainland.

    The island base had been a quiet post, far from the empire¡¯s political heart, but this incident could bring more than just tension. It could provoke a full-on confrontation.

    Like¡­ another battle of the Corral, for instance.

    Montague snorted. "War? For a shark?"

    <hr>

    There comes a pivotal moment in the course of history when an extraordinary breakthrough reshapes the world. The Gods¡ªin any culture or faith¡ªbestowed upon humanity the gift of conjuring the arcane, drawing raw power from the very essence of their bodies and their surroundings.

    This divine gift birthed elemental mages, whose mastery of fire brought warmth and light to the early peoples. Fire, in turn, became a cornerstone of survival, transforming human existence. With it, they cooked food, warded off predators, and survived the harsh elements.

    Yet fire was only the beginning. As mages learned to manipulate other elements, entire societies blossomed. Water mages brought forth rain to nourish crops, wind mages harnessed storms to propel ships, and earth mages shaped the land to build cities and fortresses. This newfound arcane knowledge became a bridge between the mortal and divine, leading humanity to unprecedented heights of power and civilization.

    However, as with any advancement, even magic¡ªonce a wonder¡ªbegan to lose its luster over time. What had once been revolutionary became routine, and as the centuries passed, innovation slowed. The arcane arts became the domain of an elite few, guarded jealously by those capable of wielding them. Though civilization flourished, the age of magic reached a plateau, its brightest days seemingly behind it.

    Then came a curious device¡ªsomething so simple, yet destined to change the world. A professor, tinkering in the shadows of grand academies dominated by mages, invented what would later be called the steam engine. It was a machine powered not by incantations or elemental forces but by the raw strength of steam pressure.

    For the first time, power was no longer tied to the gifted few who could manipulate magic. This invention was mechanical, tangible, and could be built, copied, and distributed by any craftsman with the right materials.

    The steam engine sparked an industrial revolution. Factories replaced workshops, and labor became easier than ever before. Trains crisscrossed the lands, moving people and goods at speeds previously thought impossible. Cities grew even larger, powered not by arcane runes, but by steel.

    And that was why Ries now found herself in Valyra''s industrial district, standing amidst the roar and clatter of one of the largest steel mills in the empire. The smell of burning coal hung thick in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of molten iron. Massive machines rumbled as they shaped and refined the steel that would build the empire''s future.

    Ries stood on a raised platform overlooking the production floor, her sharp gaze absorbing the scene below. Beside her stood two of the most powerful women in the empire¡ªViviana Livingstone, Minister of Home Affairs, and Recina Helvia, Minister of Finance. Together, they were an intimidating trio. If these women had been anyone else, the mill workers might have assumed they were simply lost on an ill-advised night out.

    ¡°Why did you bring me here, Helvia?¡± Ries glanced at Helvia, who was still staring at the workers below.

    ¡°Around thirty percent of our steel output comes from this mill,¡± Helvia replied, her eyes fixed on the workers below as they labored with molten metal and machinery. "And they''re asking for more¡ªmore resources, more workers, more money."

    Viviana frowned, her arms crossed over her chest. "More of everything, it seems. But at what cost? These people are already stretched thin."

    Despite her recent appointment as Minister of Home Affairs, her long experience as the former Minister of Public Works gave her a deep understanding of infrastructure and labor. A reason why Ries invited her here because she also trusts her more.

    Ries looked between the two ministers, sensing their concerns. "And you brought me here because you think we need to scale back?"

    Helvia shook her head, finally turning to face Ries. "No. Quite the opposite. This is the heart of the empire¡¯s industrial future, Prime Minister. If we don¡¯t invest now, we risk losing momentum. But Viviana¡¯s right¡ªthe workforce is close to breaking. If we keep this pace without providing better conditions, we¡¯ll face more strikes and riots."

    ¡°This place is a CDLWP stronghold, I¡¯d bet,¡± Ries thought, her eyes narrowing as she watched a worker wipe sweat from his brow before returning to the grueling task at hand. The clanking of metal echoed through the mill as sparks flew from molten steel. She could almost feel the tension hanging in the air¡ªthese workers, pushed to their limits, were likely sympathetic to the increasingly vocal and radical CDLWP¡ªor at least the ¡°Worker¡¯s¡± part of it.

    She knew well enough that the "Worker''s" part of the CDLWP had its claws deep in this place. Sardine, the leader of the liberal faction within the party, had always favored cooperation and gradual reform, pushing for a more progressive but controlled shift. His vision clashed with the more radical voices in the CDLWP who sought outright revolution, a complete dismantling of the old aristocratic order, and a remaking of the empire from the ground up.

    But the true problem wasn¡¯t Sardine¡ªit was Anya.

    Ries hadn¡¯t been in contact with Anya, the face of the more aggressive wing of the CDLWP, in quite some time. The last exchange she could remember had been... less than diplomatic. Anya was a firebrand, with no patience for half-measures or those who straddled the line between old and new. Their brief interaction had devolved into a brutal insult-fest¡ªthough Ries could hardly recall who had thrown the first jab.

    It was her, obviously.

    But if there was one thing Ries knew, it was that the mill workers here wouldn¡¯t care much for Sardine¡¯s softer approach. Anya¡¯s rhetoric of immediate and total change would ring louder in these conditions.

    ¡°Is there any way we could improve their conditions?¡± She turned to Viviana and Helvia.

    ¡°We could, we have many ideas to do it. But it is without their own drawbacks and consequences. Particularly involving productivity, profit, and wages.¡± Helvia responded.

    Ries frowned, her gaze lingering on the workers below. "Drawbacks and consequences. That¡¯s always the catch, isn¡¯t it?" She sighed.

    ¡°We can¡¯t ignore the fact that better conditions will slow production and cut into profits,¡± Helvia continued. "Less working hours means less output. Higher wages means higher operational costs. If we push too hard, we¡¯ll make enemies of the industrialists and landowners."

    Viviana shook her head. "It¡¯s a delicate balancing act, really. We balance a million different things nowadays. We improve their conditions, but we risk angering those who hold the money and power. If we don¡¯t, we¡¯ll have a revolt on our hands."

    ¡°Is there any way to implement these changes incrementally? Give the workers hope without causing an immediate drop in productivity? Maybe we focus on safety first¡ªreduce accidents, make it safer to work here.¡±

    Viviana nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Safety improvements would be a good start. Less pushback from the industrialists, and it shows the workers we¡¯re making moves. But it¡¯ll only buy us time before they demand more.¡±

    Helvia, however, seemed less optimistic. ¡°It¡¯s a short-term solution. The wages and hours are still a major issue. Those are the most affecting problems.¡±

    Before Ries could respond, a voice interrupted them. ¡°Your Excellencies, how does my factory look?¡±

    A man in a finely tailored suit approached, his gait confident despite the extra weight he carried. He looked to be in his thirties, though his body was soft and bloated, in stark contrast to the hardened workers around him. The sharp lines of his suit couldn¡¯t hide the indulgent lifestyle that had clearly taken its toll on him.

    He was part of a rising class that dominated the economic landscape¡ªCapitalists, wealthy factory owners like him who had amassed their fortunes in this new industrial age.

    ¡°Mr. Aldeen," Ries greeted him, turning her head to nod at him slightly. "Your factory seems to be working at full capacity."

    Alden chuckled, a deep, booming sound that didn''t quite match the tense atmosphere. ¡°Indeed it is! And I must say, we''re proud to be such a vital part of the Empire¡¯s steel production. Thirty percent, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Not a small percentage, definitely,¡± Ries nods. ¡°Have you ever thought about the working conditions?¡±

    Alden waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Ah, the workers. They always want more, don¡¯t they? We pay them a fair wage for their work.¡±

    ¡°A wage that barely sustains them,¡± Helvia interjected. ¡°And the hours? These men are working themselves to the bone. How is that not the same such as slavery.¡±

    Aldeen seemed taken aback, his expression was as if he was disgusted with something. ¡°Slavery? Goodness no. I am a man of morals,¡± he forced a smile. ¡°Simply put, Your Excellencies, I¡¯m a businessman. My job is to keep this place running, to keep the Empire¡¯s wheels turning. If we start giving in to every demand, where does it end?¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow. "It ends with you having a workforce that¡¯s loyal, healthy, and capable of keeping those wheels turning without collapsing from exhaustion."

    Alden shifted uncomfortably under her stare, but his smile remained plastered in place. "Your Excellency, running a factory isn¡¯t charity. These men are compensated for their labor, and while it may not be luxurious, it¡¯s fair. Besides, if they¡¯re unhappy, there are plenty of others willing to take their place."

    ¡°Mr. Aldeen," Ries began again, her tone cooler, "there¡¯s a difference between keeping the wheels turning and grinding your workers into the ground. You may find replacements, but a burned-out workforce only breeds resentment¡ªand revolution, if you¡¯re not careful. No one wants that."

    ¡°Your Excellency,¡± Aldeen clears his throat. His face was more serious now. "You must understand, it¡¯s not that simple. We¡¯re all doing our part to support the Empire, but concessions like higher wages or shorter hours would cut into our profits¡ªprofit that the Empire itself benefits from, might I remind you.¡± His voice trailed at the last sentence as he eyed Ries, who narrowed on her gaze.

    Helvia looked to Ries, who nodded. Then she turned to Aldeen, ¡°Mr. Aldeen, please, I would like to discuss some things with you.¡±

    Helvia took Aldeen aside, her tone slipping into a more diplomatic cadence as they moved to discuss the finer points of their negotiation. Ries, meanwhile, remained on the platform, watching the bustling steel mill as the steady hum of labor continued below.

    Her moment of reflection was interrupted by the approach of one of her royal guards. He bowed slightly, his voice low and respectful. "Your Excellency, Minister Nay wishes to speak with you at the governance complex. He says it is urgent."

    Ries¡¯ brow furrowed at the message. Urgent. That word rarely preceded anything good. Nay wasn¡¯t one to overstate things, which meant this needed her attention¡ªand quickly.

    "Very well," Ries replied, glancing toward Viviana, who had been observing the interaction. "Viviana, handle things here until I return. Make sure Helvia gets through to Aldeen."

    Viviana nodded. "I¡¯ll keep an eye on things."

    Ries turned back to the guard. "Let''s go."

    <hr>

    Ries entered the room with a suppressed groan, her tail flicking sharply in irritation as her gaze swept across the faces gathered around the table. Minister Nay of Foreign Affairs sat at the head, his expression calm and controlled despite the apparent urgency of the situation. High-Admiral Edelweiss of the Navy, arms crossed, radiated tension and slight anger. While Director Vaspier of the ISD, characteristically unreadable, observed from the shadows.

    Nay stood as soon as she entered, offering her a curt nod. "Madam Prime Minister," he greeted. "We have a brewing crisis."

    ¡°Of course we do,¡± Ries thought, biting back another curse. ¡°Barely two months in, and already a crisis.¡± She hadn''t even had time to fully settle into her role, let alone navigate the impending disaster.

    "What the hell happened?" she snapped, getting straight to the point.

    Nay exchanged a brief glance with Edelweiss before responding. "Lord-Admiral Montague, Commissioner of the Coroner Island Naval Base has been arrested. By the Aquileans."

    Ries blinked, her ears twitching in disbelief. "Arrested? By the sea-people? For what? I didn¡¯t think they had the spine to provoke us."

    Nay cleared his throat, maintaining his even tone. "Apparently, Montague violated their oceanic laws by hunting sea life¡ªspecifically a shark. The Aquilean Council of the Abyss detained him, and they¡¯re calling for a trial. Whether or not this trial will be a formality or a political maneuver remains to be seen."

    "A trial? For fishing?" Ries¡¯ eyes narrowed further, her disbelief now giving way to irritation. "You''re telling me one of our admirals was arrested for fishing?"

    "Ha. That¡¯s the official reason,¡± Nay snorts. ¡°But we¡¯re not so stupid to believe that. The Aquileans are using this incident to assert their dominance over the seas.¡±

    Ries clicked her tongue, the last thing she needed was a power struggle with the Aquileans¡ªespecially not when she had to focus on building the constitution. "And what exactly do they want from us? Are they expecting us to grovel or hand over concessions?"

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Nay shook his head, pulling out a document and placing it on the table. "They haven''t made any formal demands yet. But Montague¡¯s arrest directly challenges our naval supremacy. If we don¡¯t act, it will set a dangerous precedent."

    Ries'' tail lashed behind her as she absorbed the information. "Let me get this straight," she said, voice tinged with frustration. "They''re using a shark as an excuse to detain one of our top admirals and flaunt their control over the oceans?"

    Nay gave a curt nod. "That¡¯s exactly it. They believe they¡¯ve found a way to challenge our authority. What they don''t realize is how easily we could retaliate¡ªwith depth charges over their cities if necessary."

    That remark earned him a raised brow from Ries. Nay was a diplomat, but his hawkish attitude in his words surprised her.

    She turned her attention to the rest of the room. "What are our options?" she asked, "Because I assume we''re not about to let some glorified fish people get away with this."

    Edelweiss was the first to respond, her voice was posh, yet authoritative. "We can''t allow them to bully us. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. I propose we send the fleet, force them to release Montague, and remind them who truly controls the seas."

    Ries¡¯ eyes shifted to Edelweiss, unsurprised by the bluntness of her proposal. A military woman, Edelweiss'' solution was forceful and straightforward. It was certainly an option, but Ries knew it might not be the wisest.

    Before Ries could respond, Nay lifted a finger. "I agree, we need to project strength," he began, "but we can¡¯t risk all-out war over this. It¡¯s a shark, not a strategic waterway. We need to employ a little finesse¡ªgunboat diplomacy. Show them our naval strength without firing the first shot."

    Ries leaned back in her chair, thinking. The military option was tempting, but Nay was right¡ªstarting a war over a shark would make them look reckless, not strong. However, doing nothing would make them look weak.

    "Gunboat diplomacy," she repeated, her mind working to remember what that term meant. The pursuit of foreign policy objectives with the aid of conspicuous displays of naval power, implying a direct threat of warfare unless terms are met. It was an age-old tactic.

    "I see the merit in that," she said aloud. "A show of force, but without immediate escalation. Keep the fleet on standby, but they don¡¯t engage unless provoked."

    Edelweiss¡¯ mouth twitched into a thin line. "So we threaten them but don¡¯t follow through?"

    "No, no," Ries corrected. "We make it clear we will follow through if they don¡¯t back down. But we give them an out, a chance to de-escalate on their terms. Send the fleet, yes, but let¡¯s also send a diplomatic envoy."

    Edelweiss nodded slowly. "As long as we keep the option to retaliate."

    "We will," Ries affirmed. "Nay, make contact with their delegation. Get our people ready for a negotiation.¡±

    "Of course." Nay nodded but then gestured towards the silent figure seated at the end of the table. "Uh, Director Vaspier has something to add."

    Ries shifted her attention to the Director of the ISD, who was already sliding a plain, unmarked file across the table. In stark contrast to the notoriously bloated Veron, Vaspier was lean, muscular, and composed¡ªhis athletic build hidden beneath a sharp, tailored suit. He had a predatory stillness about him, like a man who could move swiftly if needed.

    "Madam Prime Minister," Vaspier began in a measured tone. "Our intelligence has reason to believe the Aquileans have built an extensive spy network within the Empire."

    ¡°Of course they have¡­¡± Once again, Ries cursed internally. ¡°How extensive are we talking about?¡±

    "Extensive enough to be potentially dangerous," he said, meeting her eyes. "I propose we establish a counter-intelligence program focused on monitoring our Aquilean citizens."

    ¡°We can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister, the Empress wants to see you,¡± a servant interrupted, stepping into the room.

    Ries bit back a sigh. Just her day, is it?

    She turned back to Vaspier, her frustration barely contained. ¡°Fine, do what you want,¡± she said, her voice tinged with irritation. It wasn¡¯t as though extra surveillance was going to harm anyone, right?

    ¡°But the Foreign Affairs Ministry has another report!¡± Nay interjected quickly.

    ¡°Send it to my office!¡± Ries snapped, already heading toward the door. She didn¡¯t have the time or patience to listen to another complaint or sift through documents.

    Whatever Vaspier was up to would have to wait, the Empress takes priority in what she has to say. She was already juggling too many tasks¡ªthe main course being a brand-new constitution, a side dish of reforms, and now, a dessert of diplomatic crisis.

    When she arrived at the palace, the opulence of its halls didn¡¯t faze her as much as it once did, her position and responsibilities dulled the grandeur. She was promptly escorted to the Empress'' private office, where she found the monarch seated, calmly sipping from an ornate cup filled with a dark, fizzy liquid. A strange choice, she thought¡ªshe hadn¡¯t imagined a royal indulging in such an unassuming drink.

    The Empress, draped in layers of silk, turned her gaze toward Ries without haste. "Ah, you¡¯ve arrived," she spoke, her voice melodic yet composed. ¡°I trust the burden of governance has not yet worn you down, Madam Prime Minister?"

    Ries offered a curt nod, but there was exhaustion in her voice as she sat down on the sofa opposite to her. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say that.¡±

    The Empress smiled slightly, though her eyes held the weight of matters beyond pleasantries. ¡°It seems the Empire is beset on many fronts¡ªlegal, domestic, and now... aquatic.¡± She placed the cup down gently, her fingers lingering on its rim. "But I won¡¯t burden you with that today.¡±

    Ries blinked in mild surprise. Not about the Aquileans?That had been her expectation. Before she could respond, the Empress continued.

    ¡°I hear you are attempting to untangle the bureaucratic mess that is the imperial government. A task not unlike taming a hydra, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±

    Ries exhaled softly, thinking about the labyrinthine bureaucracy she¡¯d been thrust into. ¡°That¡¯s one way to put it, Your Majesty. It feels like every time I think I¡¯ve cut through the red tape, another tangle of regulations and protocols springs up to take its place.¡±

    The Empress nodded slowly, as though weighing each of Ries¡¯ words with her own understanding. ¡°The machinery of governance is as much a creature of habit as it is of necessity. It resists change as fiercely as any army defends its borders. Yet, it is the very spine of the Empire. Break it too hastily, and everything collapses.¡±

    Ries felt a pang of frustration at the truth of those words. ¡°I know reforms are needed, but getting anything done requires the approval of three departments, four ministries, and a handful of nobles who all have their own agendas.¡±

    The Empress raised a brow, "and now you understand why our predecessors often favored central control," she mused. ¡°Efficiency may not be a virtue our current system prizes, but stability¡ªah, that is the crown jewel.¡±

    "Stability," Ries echoed. "But how stable is it, really, when it keeps everything so... stagnant?"

    The Empress leaned forward. ¡°Stability is not stagnation, Lady Katzennia. It is the quiet rhythm beneath the noise, the pulse that holds the empire together even when the surface ripples with chaos.¡± She straightened, her tone shifting. ¡°Still, reform must come, for a system that cannot adapt is doomed. Hence why called you here, to implement my own forms of reforms.¡±

    Ries slowly nodded. Reforms coming straight from the Empress, huh? If these reforms were anything like what she suspected, they would likely focus on further centralizing power¡ªdiminishing the influence of the aristocracy and consolidating authority within the hands of the monarch and her own technically. It made sense, given the Empress'' preference for control.

    The Empress paused, as if in thought, then spoke again. ¡°I presume you have been briefed on the Empire¡¯s racial and ethnic demography?¡±

    That caught Ries off guard. Briefed? She hadn¡¯t even been aware that she was supposed to be briefed on that. After all, she was supposed to know these things. Being Prime Minister and all. The reality was¡­ she didn¡¯t. Her lack of understanding about the intricacies of the Empire¡¯s racial structure was suddenly glaring.

    ¡°I¡ª¡± Ries started, but caught herself. No point in bluffing her way through this.

    The Empress¡¯s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the faintest hint of disapproval crossing her face. "I see¡­" she said, her voice still soft but carrying a subtle authority. "Then, let us correct this oversight."

    Her tone, though not harsh, carried a gravity that made Ries sit up straighter. ¡°Yes?¡±

    "The Empire, contrary to what many assume, is far from a homogeneous state," the Empress began. "According to our most recent census, only forty percent¡ªperhaps sixty if you follow more conservative estimates¡ªof our population are human." She paused, letting the statistic settle. "We reside in the western regions, often called the core of the Empire, where human influence may seem dominant, but beyond this, our lands are shared with the others."

    She took a measured sip of the fizzy liquid in her cup before continuing, "the rest, as you may imagine, are the so-called ''others''¡ªBeastmen like yourself, Elves, Dwarves, Aquileans, Orcs, and the myriad tribes that inhabit our lands."

    Ries felt herself stiffen at the words. Your kind. It stung, even though it wasn¡¯t meant as an insult. She knew the Empress wasn¡¯t belittling her; in fact, the very reason she sat across from her now was because of her identity. Yet hearing it broken down so clinically only deepened the chasm she felt between herself and the world of human politics.

    "I won''t bore you with a lengthy account of how this Empire came to be¡ªsuffice it to say, it was forged through conflict, as is often the case with nations of such size and power. But that is not our focus today."

    The Empress set her cup down, her gaze sharpening as she shifted to the matter at hand. "Our discussion, Lady Katzennia, must now move toward the present. Namely, administration, bureaucracy, election, race relations, and the future of the constitution."

    <hr>

    Meanwhile, far from the political discussions of the capital, tension brewed at sea.

    ¡°Those fish people just don¡¯t know when to quit, do they?¡± Captain Altheim of the VIS Unsinkable, sighed, lowering his binoculars. His eyes squinted at the horizon, where a fleet of Aquilean coral ships glided silently in the distance.

    Altheim''s crew moved with practiced efficiency around him, but there was an undercurrent of unease rippling through the deck. The Aquileans had been quiet for months, but here they were again, just lingering on the fringes of Valyrian waters just outside of the Coroner islands.

    ¡°Steady on, men,¡± Altheim muttered, tapping the side of his binoculars. ¡°They¡¯re testing us. Waiting to see if we¡¯ll blink.¡±

    He knew all too well of this. Being a veteran of the battle of Corral, all five of them and a potential sixth one. Another day, anoter Aquilean aggression. It¡¯s like a string contest.

    He was in command of a fleet of seven Valyrian warships, each a towering juggernaut of steel and firepower. The VIS Unsinkable, his flagship, led the charge¡ªa hulking dreadnought designed to withstand the fiercest of sea battles. Behind it trailed two cruisers, three destroyers, and a single supply ship, all positioned within standard naval doctrine.

    His fleet was no stranger to the tensions with the Aquileans, but something about today felt... heavier. The coral ships on the horizon shimmered like phantoms, their strange, living hulls was a reminder of the eerie magic the Aquilean race wielded.

    "Captain," came the voice of his first officer. "They''re holding position just outside the exclusion zone. Waiting for us to make the first move, like always."

    Altheim grunted. "Classic Aquilean provocation. They want to draw us out, make us look like the aggressors. Well, not today."

    He had seen this before during the countless skirmishes around the Coroner Islands, a contested stretch of ocean that had seen five major battles¡ªThe Battle of Corral, they called them. Though the last of these skirmishes had ended months ago, the threat of a sixth loomed over their heads like a dark cloud.

    ¡°You think they¡¯ll attack us first?¡±

    Altheim let out a heavy sigh, his fingers drumming absently on the railing as he weighed the question. "They¡¯re too smart for that," he muttered, his eyes still locked on the distant fleet. "The Aquileans never attack head-on. They provoke, they test... but they won¡¯t strike unless they¡¯re sure they have the upper hand."

    His first officer frowned, his gaze shifting uneasily between the captain and the fleet of coral ships that floated eerily on the horizon. "So, what do we do, Captain? Just sit here and wait?"

    "Patience," Altheim replied, his voice carrying a sense of battle-worn wisdom. "They¡¯re hoping we¡¯ll get impatient, make the first move. If we fire first, they¡¯ll cry foul to every kingdom on the continent. They''ll play the victim, turn this into some grand injustice. No... we hold the line. We make them blink."

    "Aye, sir. But what if they don¡¯t blink this time? What if they¡¯re preparing for more than just a skirmish?"

    Altheim paused. It was the unspoken fear that had haunted him since the last battle of Coral¡ªthe sixth battle. It wasn¡¯t a matter of if anymore, but when. The Aquileans had been preparing for something, and it wasn¡¯t just another skirmish over the Coroner Islands.

    "We¡¯re ready for them," Altheim said, more to himself than to his first officer. "Let¡¯s hope they remember that."

    Just then, a low hum reverberated through the ship¡¯s hull. Altheim glanced up at the sky, squinting as something caught his attention. Was that a school of wild griffons?

    "Captain!" A sailor dashed up, panting, panic in his eyes. "Strange activity on the Aquilean flagship! Their energy cores are lighting up!"

    ¡°What?!¡±

    BOOM!

    It was in fact, not a school of wild Griffons.

    The ship¡¯s deck exploded with a deafening blast. It wasn¡¯t griffons. The Aquileans had unleashed supercharged artillery¡ªa signature weapon of the Aquileans. The roar of the explosion drowned out every other sound as the world tilted around him.

    The deck erupted with a deafening roar, sending debris and crew flying. Altheim was thrown off his feet, his body slamming hard against the cold metal of the ship¡¯s bulkhead. For a moment, his vision blurred, and the world around him spun as smoke and fire engulfed the air.

    The ship rocked violently under the barrage. Debris rained down. Crew members who had been on deck were tossed into the air like marionettes, their screams cutting through the rising flames. Thick, black smoke billowed up, engulfing the air and burning Altheim''s lungs as he fought to regain his bearings.

    Fortunately, it¡¯ll take more than a few hits on the deck to sink the Unsinkable.

    "Captain! Captain, are you alright?" The voice was distant, muffled by the ringing in his ears, but Altheim forced his body to respond. He gripped the railing and pulled himself to his feet, his vision clearing just enough to see Rourke, his first officer, rushing toward him.

    Altheim coughed violently, tasting blood. "Tell¡ªcough¡ªtell them to prepare to fire a salvo!" He gripped the first officer¡¯s shoulder, shaking off the daze. His eyes burned with a cold fury. "And signal the fleet. We''re not letting those Aquilean bastards get off scot-free!"

    The first officer nodded and ran to relay the orders, his voice carrying above the noise as the ship¡¯s crew scrambled to man their stations. Despite the chaos, the Unsinkable¡¯s well-trained sailors moved like a well-oiled machine¡ªa sign of a disciplined army. Damage control teams rushed to seal ruptured compartments, while gunners took their positions, priming the ship''s cannons for a counterstrike.

    Altheim steadied himself, wiping blood from his lips as he turned toward the looming shadow of the Aquilean fleet. Their flagship, glowing with the ominous energy that had rained destruction upon them, still lingered on the horizon, seemingly untouched. Preparing to launch another attack, no doubt.

    But it was their turn now.

    "Ready the broadside batteries!" Altheim barked to a nearby officer. "And load the new shells¡ªlet¡¯s see how well their fancy energy cores hold up to real firepower."

    The hum of the ship¡¯s weapon systems came to life as the massive broadside cannons rotated into position. The Unsinkable might be damaged, but it wasn¡¯t out of the fight.

    "Captain, all guns primed and ready!" came a shout from the gunnery chief.

    Altheim raised a hand, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto the distant flagship. He could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation of the crew hanging on his next command. This is what true power feels like.

    "Fire!" Altheim roared.

    The Unsinkable''s cannons unleashed a thunderous barrage, a salvo of shells hurtling through the sky toward the Aquilean ships. The recoil shuddered through the ship, but Altheim barely noticed, his gaze locked on the enemy as explosions rippled across the water.

    The first few rounds missed, splashing into the sea around the Aquilean fleet, but then a direct hit struck the enemy flagship¡¯s hull. The blast sent a plume of fire into the sky.

    "That¡¯s right," he smirked. "We¡¯re still in this fight."

    But even as the satisfaction of the hit settled, a chill ran down his spine. The Aquileans were not retreating. Instead, their flagship began to glow even brighter, a pulsing, ominous energy gathering around it.

    His first officer returned, breathless. "Captain, we¡¯ve got reports¡ªthe Aquilean flagship¡¯s charging something big. It¡¯s not just artillery. They''re preparing to unleash¡ª"

    Before he could finish, the sky above them crackled with a sinister, electric hum. A massive beam of energy erupted from the Aquilean ship, cutting through the air like a sword of light, aimed directly at the heart of the Unsinkable.

    Altheim¡¯s blood ran cold.

    "Brace for impact!" he shouted, but the warning came too late.

    The beam struck, and the world turned to blinding white.

    <hr>

    ¡°Checkmate, pay up.¡±

    Maxim groaned as his last Bishop was captured by a Rook, watching the piece slide off the board. Across from him, his friend grinned, clearly pleased with himself. Maxim begrudgingly reached for his pocket.

    ¡°Five Silver Virs, there.¡± He tossed a crumpled note onto the board, and his friend eagerly pocketed it with a triumphant smirk.

    ¡°Cheer up, Max. Our shift¡¯s still long. Fancy another game?¡±

    Maxim leaned back in his chair with a sigh. ¡°Sometimes I forget we¡¯re security guards for the academy and not just two guys playing board games like a couple of jobless bums.¡± He rubbed his face, his voice laced with sarcasm. ¡°But sure.¡±

    His eyes wandered lazily to the road outside the academy, half-expecting the usual uneventful quiet. Instead, his heart skipped a beat as he spotted a truck speeding toward the front gate.

    ¡°Woah, woah, woah!¡± he yelled, leaping to his feet.

    Without hesitation, he chanted an arcane incantation, his fingers weaving through the air. Almost instantly, the plants beside the road responded to his spell, surging up from the earth to form a makeshift spike strip.

    Beside him, his friend was already casting a similar spell, reinforcing the barrier. The vines, thick and thorny, snaked across the path like a living trap, ready to stop the oncoming vehicle.

    Maxim stood frozen, watching as the truck¡ªjust moments from crashing into the spike strip¡ªslowed to a complete stop. Confusion washed over him, his mind trying to piece together what was happening. Then he saw it, another truck pulling up behind the first, then another, and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. These weren¡¯t just any trucks¡ªthey were military.

    Soldiers poured out of the first vehicle with practiced precision, boots hitting the ground in unison. Maxim''s eyes widened as an important-looking man, dressed in a plain black suit and an armband, stepped out from the front seat.

    "Why do we always get the crazy shit on our shift?" Maxim cursed underneath his breath.

    The man, clearly in charge, approached him with a sharp gaze and an air of authority. ¡°ISD, move aside,¡± he ordered, his voice clipped and no-nonsense. He barely spared Maxim a glance as soldiers surged past them, moving with purpose toward the academy gate.

    Maxim¡¯s stomach churned. The ISD¡ªthe Imperial Security Directorate. He¡¯d heard enough about them to know that when they showed up, it was never for anything good.

    His friend nudged him with an elbow. ¡°What the hell¡¯s going on?¡± he whispered, his usual casual demeanor cracking.

    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Maxim replied, his voice low. He stepped back as instructed, watching the soldiers unlock and push open the academy gates with unnerving efficiency.

    Whatever was about to happen, it was way above his pay grade.

    ¡°I think we have time for a few more chess games.¡±

    In the grand atrium of the Academy, the air was filled with the hum of anticipation as students gathered to celebrate the accomplishments of four exceptional individuals. Lily, the once unassuming commoner girl, now stood in the spotlight, her lineage as a descendant of the Saintess of the West revealed in a dramatic turn of fate. Next to her were Prince Gerard of the Kingdom of Kaskadia, regal and poised; Prince Lutto of the Aquilean Empire, with his signature aloofness; and Joseph of House Lingez, a young lord from an Archduchy whose charm was unmatched.

    At the back of the room, seated away from the fanfare, was Elisabeth. She watched the scene unfold with a deep frown, though her mind was elsewhere. It wasn''t the congratulatory speeches or the admiration of the crowd that bothered her, but the unmistakable significance of this moment. She knew it all too well.

    "This is the part where the game splits," she muttered, eyes narrowed on the four standing before the crowd. The three "capture targets" as they were called, would soon confess their feelings, each vying for Lily''s affection. Elisabeth had seen it happen before¡ªdepending on the route chosen in the game, one of them would propose.

    "I wonder who she chose?" Elisabeth mused, her fingers tapping idly on her lap. In the original game¡¯s timeline, this event marked a crucial turning point¡ªthe heroine would make her decision, and the rest of the story would pivot based on that choice. Elisabeth had no interest in the romantic entanglements. She was far more preoccupied with her own survival. After all, in every possible route, her character was doomed to a grisly end.

    But not this time. She had made strides already, taking careful steps to avoid the pitfalls that led to her head being chopped off, or hanged. Depending on the route Lily chose.

    The crowd clapped and cheered, oblivious to Elisabeth¡¯s internal turmoil. She glanced at Lily, who stood at the center of attention, her smile serene. Elisabeth couldn¡¯t help but wonder if the girl even knew the weight of her decision today.

    When the cheers died down, Prince Lutto of the Aquilean Empire¡ªa tall, handsome, and imposing figure with a serpentine tail, bright blue hair, and eyes as cold as glacial waters¡ªsuddenly knelt before Lily. His sharp, predatory teeth gleamed as the entire hall seemed to hold its breath. This was it. The proposal. The moment the story would take a fateful turn.

    ¡°Here it is!¡± Elisabeth tightened her grip on the chair. Truth be told, she would be lying if she wasn¡¯t looking forward to this. Despite being transported to the body of the main antagonist, she still had fond memories of the game.

    ¡°Lily, wi¡ª¡±

    BANG!

    The deafening sound of the door being violently torn from its hinges silenced the hall. Soldiers, tens of them, flooded the room in perfect synchronization, their heavy boots echoing off the floor. The serene atmosphere shattered into chaos as students screamed and faculty scrambled, their panic overtaking the formal ceremony. The clattering of chairs and gasps of shock filled the air as everyone rushed to comprehend what was happening.

    "This wasn¡¯t supposed to happen!" Elisabeth¡¯s heart pounded in her chest as she rose from her seat. The scene before her was not part of any route in the game. What was going on?

    "Out of the way!" one of the soldiers barked, pushing students aside as they surged toward the center of the room, making a beeline for Lily and her suitors.

    Prince Lutto had instinctively risen, his serpentine tail coiling protectively around the heroine, his sharp eyes blazing with defiance. "What is the meaning of this?!"

    But the soldiers weren¡¯t listening. A man wearing the unmistakable armband of the Imperial Security Directorate¡ªthe ISD¡ªstepped forward. ¡°By decree of the Prime Minister, you are hereby arrested for espionage, bribery, and terrorism!¡± His voice rang with authority as more soldiers surged forward.

    "All students are to remain where they are!" the ISD agent ordered. His tone brooked no argument, no confusion, only compliance.

    Prince Lutto barely had time to process what was happening before a soldier struck him across the head with the butt of a rifle. The sharp crack of the blow echoed across the room as Lutto crumpled, his serpentine tail thrashing in pain as soldiers rushed in, forcing him into manacles. Blood trickled down his face, staining his regal features.

    ¡°Do you have any idea who I am?! I am Prince Lutto of the Aquilean Empire! You will regret this, you¡ª" His voice which was full of fury, was cut short as soldiers yanked him upright, his body still weak from the blow. His protests echoed, but no one listened.

    Elisabeth¡¯s stomach dropped. Espionage? Bribery? Terrorism?! Prince Lutto? None of it made sense. Her thoughts whirled as she tried to process the impossibility unfolding before her eyes. This wasn¡¯t supposed to happen. Not to Lutto, not in any of the game¡¯s routes. Was this a secret path on the game¡¯s codes?

    Her gaze snapped to Lily. The girl who had been radiant and poised moments ago was now frozen in place, her eyes wide with terror. The brilliance of her saintly bloodline and charm had dimmed, replaced by fear as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

    This is wrong. This is all wrong.

    Lily¡¯s suitors, Prince Gerard of Kaskadia and Joseph of House Lingez, looked equally stunned, standing in defensive positions around Lily but unsure of how to act in the face of the soldiers and the ISD. But even their noble status seemed insignificant in the face of such raw force.

    Just then, the ISD agent pointed toward Lily. ¡°Seize her too.¡±

    Elisabeth¡¯s blood ran cold. Lily? Why her?

    This wasn¡¯t in the game. There was no storyline, no alternate route where Lily got arrested. Whatever this was, it wasn¡¯t something Elisabeth could predict, control, or avoid. What the actual hell is going on?!

    Lily¡¯s frozen composure broke as soldiers grabbed her. "Wait! No, I¡ªwhat¡¯s going on?" Her voice cracked, but the soldiers were merciless. They bound her hands, dragging her toward the exit without any explanation, as if her protests were meaningless.

    Prince Gerard and Joseph exchanged a quick glance, their confidence visibly shaken, yet neither made a move to intervene. Even they knew when they were outmatched, their noble lineage offering no protection against the raw power of the Imperial Security Directorate.

    Elisabeth''s heart pounded in her chest as she watched Lily being dragged away, tried to remember through every possible scenario, every route from the game that she could recall. But there was nothing¡ªno hint, no clue that this would happen. Spies? It didn¡¯t make sense. Lily wasn¡¯t involved in anything like that. She was just the protagonist, the heroine of the story¡­ right?

    What is this world turning into?

    The ISD agent from before took his place at the podium. "Apologies for the interruption, but we have reason to believe this esteemed institution is harboring foreign spies."

    "This is now a matter of state security," the agent continued, his tone leaving no room for defiance. "Further disruptions will be dealt with harshly."

    ¡°Please do not resist.¡±

    <hr>

    Ries let out a long, exasperated sigh, feeling her soul practically ascend to the heavens as she sank into the plush chair. Talking with the Empress could drain the life out of anyone, she thought. The woman had a way of speaking that made her feel like she was being transported centuries into the past.

    "Ahhh¡­" she sighed again, this time louder, letting the frustration seep out as she closed her eyes for a moment of reprieve.

    "Why did I take this job again?" she muttered to herself, rubbing her forehead in frustration.

    Ries glanced at the stacks of paperwork on her desk, her eyes glazing over them with disdain. Important, no doubt, but there was no chance she''d wade through that today. Laziness is a virtue, she thought, letting herself relax into the plush chair. Her mind drifted, seeking solace in the quiet.

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister!¡±

    Of course, that tranquility didn¡¯t last. With a groan, Ries opened her eyes to see Clarissa standing at the door, looking frantic. "What is it?" she muttered, her voice tinged with annoyance.

    "You have to make your radio announcement!"

    "For what now?" she snapped, barely able to muster the energy.

    ¡°We¡¯re under attack!¡±

    Ries shot up from her chair, her heart pounding as her mind shifted from weary resignation to full alert. "What do you mean, ''we¡¯re under attack''?" she demanded, storming past Clarissa as she straightened her suit, all traces of exhaustion replaced by a sudden surge of adrenaline.

    Clarissa, trying to keep up with her, fumbled with a stack of reports. " Three hours ago, Aquilean naval vessels fired the first shot on our fleet. They sank the VIS Unsinkable¡ª"

    Ries couldn¡¯t stop the incredulous laugh that bursted out of her. "The Unsinkable? Sunk?" She let out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head as they walked. "Who came up with that name? What a joke."

    Clarissa frowned but pressed on, her tone urgent. "They¡¯ve crossed the exclusion zone, and their fleet is approaching the Coroner Islands. Our forces are mobilizing, but we need to address the public before panic sets in."

    Ries waved off Clarissa¡¯s concerns, her voice laced with impatience. "Yes, yes. It¡¯s not like we¡¯re going to fight a land war anytime soon," she muttered, more focused on preparing for the broadcast than the details of naval strategy.

    .

    .

    .

    .

    As the office door slammed shut, a stillness settled in the room. For a moment, everything was quiet¡ªuntil a dark mist swirled into existence at the corner of the room, almost imperceptible at first, growing thicker until it coalesced into the shadowy form of a cloaked figure. They stepped forward silently, the dim light casting long shadows across the floor.

    The figure approached the grand desk, its wooden surface polished to a sheen. "Hm, you never told me about your promotion, Ries," the figure whispered to the empty room, their voice barely audible. There was a hint of amusement, maybe even mockery, in their tone as they traced their fingers along the desk, their gloved hand pausing over the papers strewn across it.

    With a quiet but deliberate motion, they opened the top drawer and pulled out a thick document. The title at the top, written in bold letters, caught the figure¡¯s attention.

    ¡®IMPERIAL CONSTITUTION DRAFT #5.¡¯

    A slow chuckle escaped from beneath the cloak. "Interesting... very interesting," they mused, flipping through the first few pages with an air of practiced detachment. "What are you up to, Prime Minister?"

    The figure''s eyes scanned over Imperial Decrees, reform plans, scribbled notes, and countless other documents scattered across the desk, all awaiting approval. Yet, none of them held the same weight or significance as this particular draft.

    Then, just as fast as they had materialized, the figure disappeared back into the swirling mist, leaving behind no trace of their presence¡ªexcept for the faintly rustling papers, unsettled by the departure.

    Bringing with it, the draft of the constitution.

 Part XIX: The Greatest Lie Ever Told

    No one from centuries ago would''ve imagined what would become of the Holy City. The towering walls, once thought to be impenetrable, now bear a massive gaping wound, shattered by relentless assaults. What was once a bastion of hope and faith has turned into a battlefield of fire and death, its defenders clinging desperately to hold back the demonic hordes surging through the breach.

    The introduction of modern weaponry has transformed the face of war for both sides. Yet, while the jingoistic Valkorians adopted these innovations as quickly as they emerged, the demon armies and the human armies led by the holy city lagged behind, burdened by centuries of tradition and pride.

    For the demons, it was a matter of arrogance. They believed that brute strength and ancient arcane powers would always reign supreme. The idea that mortal-made weapons¡ªmere rifles¡ªcould pose a serious threat was laughable to them, until the day they were slaughtered en masse by organized volleys of gunfire. Now, they begrudgingly wield cannons and other human-crafted weapons, integrating artillery into their brutal strategies.

    The humans, meanwhile, faced a different dilemma. They were not blind to these advancements; they had watched as the Valkorian Kingdom unexpectedly defeated the great Borian Tsardom, transforming themselves into a preeminent great power. But the human armies, beholden to their feudal lords and bound by stubborn pride, resisted change. The noble houses saw rifles and artillery as harbingers of upheaval, tools that could erode their power and disrupt the established order. Thus, they clung to outdated strategies and neglected to industrialize on a meaningful scale.

    It was only after facing defeat after crushing defeat that the humans reluctantly turned to the Valyrians and Valkorians and even the Borians for aid, importing vast stockpiles of rifles, artillery, and the expertise needed to wield them. Yet, despite these frantic efforts to modernize, the hastily implemented policies failed to turn the tide. Factories that should have been churning out guns and cannons stood empty as resources were allocated into more reliable sources.

    G¨¦n¨¦ral d''arm¨¦e Eras watched with grim satisfaction as another volley of artillery shells found their mark, slamming into the ranks of the human defenders. The explosions rippled through the battlefield, sending soldiers flying like ragdolls.

    Ahead of the barrage, a wave of Greater Demons surged forward, cutting a bloody path through the human lines. Their massive swords cleaved through armor and flesh with ease, their unstoppable momentum scattering the defenders like chaff in the wind. It was a sight Eras had dreamed of for ages¡ªthe complete dismantling of human arrogance.

    Her leathery wings twitched, an involuntary shiver of pleasure coursing through her at the sight. She allowed herself a wicked grin, her elongated fangs catching the glint of firelight. The humans, for all their efforts, were finally learning their place.

    This has been a long time coming.

    She couldn''t stop her wings from quivering in satisfaction, their subtle movement betraying the excitement she barely contained. Every fallen soldier, every shattered wall, was another triumph. Another nail in the coffin of human resistance.

    Her eyes flicked across the battlefield, and she could feel it¡ªvictory was close, tantalizingly within reach. Oh, praise the Imp¨¦ratrice! She thought, her awe growing with every step her forces took. What the Imp¨¦ratrice had said was true all along. If only the Daemon clans had united earlier, had set aside their petty squabbles, they could have achieved this dominance long ago.

    Eras, once skeptical of the Imp¨¦ratrice''s grand promises, now found herself overwhelmed with a mixture of awe and respect. The Imp¨¦ratrice had spoken of fertile lands for their people, lands where the Daemon race could thrive once more¡ªfree of conflict, free of desperation. Eras hadn¡¯t believed it at first. Too much blood had been spilled between the clans, too much pride at stake for such unity to ever be possible.

    Yet here she was, standing in the middle of a battlefield, witnessing what could only be described as the impossible. Under the Imp¨¦ratrice''s banner, the Daemons had set aside centuries of infighting, and now, they were on the verge of claiming the Holy City. A city that was the bastion of the human faith.

    Eras smiled to herself, her wings trembling with exhilaration. The Imp¨¦ratrice had not only given them a path to victory but had ignited a new era for the Daemon race. These lands, once ruled by humans, would soon be theirs, and with them, the future of their people.

    "G¨¦n¨¦rale!" A deep, gravelly voice called out, and one of Eras''s aides approached¡ªan imposing figure clad in black armor, even his face concealed beneath a helmet. "The remaining human armies have surrendered. We are victorious!"

    Eras couldn''t suppress a smirk. Victory was sweet, but her eyes quickly flicked toward the aide. "And what of the Hero''s party?"

    The aide shifted uncomfortably, the armor plates creaking. "Erm... they, they escaped," he admitted hesitantly.

    "Escaped?" Eras''s scoff cut through the air, dripping with disdain. "Really?" Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding slightly as she bit her lip in frustration. The fall of the Holy City had been inevitable, and with it, the human forces would collapse soon enough. But...

    The Hero¡¯s party. They were always a problem, weren''t they? A thorn in her side, constantly slipping through her grasp when they should¡¯ve been wiped out along with the others. Many great heavenly generals have been killed by them.

    Eras folded her arms, her wings twitching slightly in irritation. She knew well enough that the human kingdoms weren¡¯t limited to the lands in the western region, and the Hero¡¯s party fleeing into those other domains would complicate matters.

    Her eyes narrowed as she mulled over the next move. The Imp¨¦ratrice had been diplomatic¡ªcarefully negotiating with the Valkorians and Borians to keep the Daemon forces from being surrounded. Those petty human kingdoms were manageable, but Eras wasn¡¯t foolish enough to dismiss the larger threats looming beyond the western frontier.

    Rozafir. And beyond that... the giant that cast a shadow over the continent: the Empire of Valeria.

    Unlike the other humans who groveled at the feet of their powerless Gaia deity, the Valerians worshipped something altogether more dangerous¡ªa dead dragon. This was no mere mythic beast, but a creature whose reign of terror had scorched the continent centuries prior, ravaging nations before it was finally slain. Even in death, the dragon had left a legacy, one that Valeria had built its empire upon.

    But that dragon¡¯s fall hadn''t brought peace. For years after its death, the Valerians had turned on one another, waging bloody civil wars until they had finally united under a single banner. In some ways, they were not so different from the Daemons. Both races forged by chaos, driven by ambition and a lust for power. The thought made Eras''s lip curl in disdain¡ªbut it also planted a seed of understanding.

    The more she thought of it, the more she realized how much they were alike: both their histories steeped in blood, both their empires built from the ashes of destruction.

    Yet, Valeria had chosen isolation. The humans there, as formidable as they were, remained distant from foreign entanglements. An empire behind its own walls, paralyzed by internal conflicts and political infighting. The Imp¨¦ratrice had ensured that much. Their agents within Valeria had exacerbated the Empire¡¯s instability, keeping their giant neighbor distracted and unwilling to intervene. Eras smirked at the thought.

    She never quite understood why Valeria had never expanded beyond its borders with all that power at its disposal. What cowards, she thought. With their vast armies, their technology and their disciplined military machine, they could have conquered half the world by now. Yet, they remained bound by their own politics, as if shackled by the very legacy they worshipped.

    But no matter. Valeria¡¯s isolation played to her advantage, and the Daemons had exploited it. Their agents had even managed to convince the sea-dwelling Aquileans¡ªthose slippery, sea creatures who kept themselves to the abyss¡ªto launch a sudden attack against the Empire. That bold move kept Valeria occupied on another front, their attention split and resources tied down in an unexpected conflict.

    A masterstroke of distraction, orchestrated by the Imp¨¦ratrice herself.

    Valeria, for all its strength, was now too preoccupied, too fractured to pose any immediate threat. With the Empire embroiled in its own problems, Eras knew the Daemon army had the precious time they needed to consolidate their foothold in the west.

    But time was still a fickle thing. If the Valerians ever got their act together, or if the scattered human kingdoms united under a new banner, the Daemons could find themselves facing an enemy of unimaginable strength.

    But they¡¯ll be ready by then.

    She turned to her aide. ¡°Ready the men! We¡¯ll march into the Holy City!¡±

    <hr>

    The tavern felt suffocating, even for its regular patrons. Dimly lit and heavy with the stench of sweat, alcohol, and smoke, it had long been a hub of discontent, a front for operations of the CDLWP, where laborers and low-class citizens gathered to vent their frustrations and share whispered complaints.

    But this particular patron was different.

    A woman cloaked in white sat at a small, corner table. A wide-brimmed hat cast a deep shadow over her face, concealing her features¡ªsave for her piercing blue eyes, which gleamed with an unsettling sharpness. Those eyes remained fixed on the two figures sitting opposite her: Sardine, leader of the CDLWP¡¯s Liberal faction, and Anya, the head of the entire CDLWP.

    Anya cleared her throat, attempting to break the icy tension. ¡°So... Madam¡ª"

    The woman cut her off with a swift motion of her hand. ¡°Please, do not waste time with formalities. I am here to provide you with information." Without another word, she slid a discrete brown folder across the table. ¡°Take a look.¡±

    Anya¡¯s gaze flickered from the folder to the woman before she slowly reached for it. Sardine leaned in as Anya cracked it open. Inside, a document titled IMPERIAL CONSTITUTION DRAFT #5 Jumped them both.

    Anya¡¯s eye widened. ¡°This is¡­¡±

    The woman¡¯s lips curled into a subtle, knowing smile. ¡°It is to my understanding that the CDLWP strives for equality for the people under the law. But¡­ it appears the promises of a constitution are leaning towards something much different¡ªa conservative, reactionary constitution, designed to uphold the Empire¡¯s hierarchy. Convenient, don¡¯t you think?"

    Anya¡¯s hands tightened around the paper as she read the articles of the draft, her eyes scanning each line with growing fury. So much so that her hands began to tremble, the anger coursing through her visibly. Sardine, seated next to her, placed a steadying hand on her arm, urging her to keep calm. He, though less outwardly emotional, felt the same frustration inside.

    ¡°This draft¡­¡± she muttered, her voice low but trembling with rage, ¡°It consolidates the crown¡¯s power while dangling hollow promises of rights to the people. It¡¯s a farce. A betrayal of everything we¡¯ve fought for.¡±

    Sardine let out a long, weary sigh. He had known this moment was coming, had felt the pressure building for months, but that didn¡¯t make it any easier. As much as he tried to stay measured, he couldn¡¯t deny the weight of her words. The document in her hands was nothing more than a cleverly disguised reinforcement of the status quo.

    Across the table, the woman who had handed them the document stood up, a cold smile curling on her lips. ¡°It¡¯s up to you what happens next.¡± Her voice was almost taunting, as if daring them to make the bold move she already anticipated.

    Silence hung between them for a moment.

    Anya¡¯s eyes remained locked on the paper, her hand tightening around it until the veins on her arm stood out. Sardine watched her carefully, his heart sinking as he read the fiery determination in her gaze. It was the same look her father had worn¡ªthe same reckless, unstoppable resolve that had driven him to death.

    ¡°Anya¡­¡± he began, his voice quiet but cautious. ¡°You¡¯re not seriously considering¡ª¡±

    She looked up, her eyes blazing. Sardine¡¯s breath caught in his throat. He had seen that look before, and it always meant trouble.

    ¡°I¡¯m Calling for a General Strike.¡±

    <hr>

    Wars, in essence, are the continuation of politics by other means¡ªand, in the modern era, they have also become a continuation of economics by other means. What does this mean? Quite simply, wars today are astronomically expensive!

    Gone are the days when warriors armed themselves, purchasing their own swords, shields, and armor. Now, every aspect of a soldier''s equipment is provided by the state. Rifles are no longer simple tools like swords or spears that a blacksmith could forge overnight. Modern weapons require complex industrial production chains. No lone artisan can craft bullets, artillery shells, or explosives. These are the products of advanced factories and supply lines, all of which demand immense financial and material resources.

    For the war against the Aquileans, ships needed to be produced in colossal shipyards in major port cities, each one consuming a staggering amount of steel. Coal was no longer the fuel of choice¡ªdiesel, the precious black gold, powered the massive fleets. Fortunately for the Empire, their recent campaign in the Palushian lands had secured a substantial supply of this vital resource, ensuring they could continue to wage war without the fear of running dry.

    But now, a more immediate and domestic crisis had gripped the capital. A crisis that no amount of diesel or steel could resolve.

    Ries stood at the window of her office, her brow furrowed as she surveyed the chaotic scene below. The boulevard, once bustling with merchants and pedestrians, was now a sea of red, with multiple blocks around the governance complex sealed off. Millions of citizens had flooded the streets, packed together so tightly that it seemed as if the city itself had been swallowed by the tide of people.

    From her high vantage point, the sight was unsettling, even for someone who previously felt prejudice and discrimination because of her race, per se. It was a vast, seething mass of discontent. The air itself seemed to hum with tension as the chants of the crowd echoed upward, piercing the thick walls of her office.

    A general strike.

    ¡°Another day at the job, huh?" She thought bitterly, grimacing as the bitter taste of her lukewarm coffee lingered on her tongue. In between juggling to make a workable constitution, and the recent war with the Aquileans, the strike had only multiplied her already overwhelming workload.

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister,¡± Clarissa¡¯s voice interrupted her reverie from behind. ¡°Your cabinet has arrived.¡±

    Your Cabinet. It still feels like a fever dream. No one would¡¯ve believed the Beastmen in front of them was an exile¡ªwell she escaped¡ªand was a former C-ranking Adventurer. Maybe she should write a book about it?

    She sets down her coffee and took a deep breath. ¡°Fuck my life.¡±

    <hr>

    When she entered the meeting room, discussions were already in full-swing. Viviana led the discussion pertaining to address the strike outside.

    "We cannot allow this strike to paralyze the city any longer," Viviana was saying in a diplomatic voice, though with a hint of annoyance. "The economy is already strained due to the war effort, and now the entire city is gridlocked. We need a resolution, and we need it now."

    Ries slipped into her seat, catching the last of Viviana¡¯s statement. The other ministers turned their heads briefly to acknowledge her, but the conversation pressed on without pause.

    "Minister Livingstone, you''re suggesting we send the army to put down the strikers," another voice interjected. It was Minister Callahan, the head of Health, always the voice of reason in these debates, perhaps owing to his commoner background. ¡°If we send in the army, we¡¯ll be escalating this into violence. The people aren¡¯t just striking for better wages or working conditions anymore¡ªthey¡¯re after the constitution. The real question, now that the Prime Minister has joined us," his eyes flicked toward Ries, "is how did it get leaked?¡±

    The room grew noticeably more tense, eyes shifting towards Ries as if expecting her to have all the answers. Callahan¡¯s question hung in the air like a dagger. The ministers, who had been engrossed in the logistics of quelling the strike, were now suddenly focused on the larger issue¡ªthe draft constitution, the very document that was supposed to be kept under the strictest secrecy, had somehow found its way into the public¡¯s hands.

    Ries took a deep breath, keeping her expression neutral despite the growing storm inside her. ¡°We¡¯ll address the leak in due time,¡± she said, her voice measured, though she felt the weight of suspicion in the room. ¡°Right now, we need to focus on preventing this situation from spiraling out of control.¡±

    She couldn¡¯t believe it either when Clarissa reported to her that the fifth draft of the constitution had gone missing. At first she dismissed it as her accidentally misplacing it somewhere¡ªit¡¯s unlikely she misplaced it in a random tavern or something, right?

    Viviana, unwilling to back down, spoke up again. "But if we don¡¯t show some force, Prime Minister, this strike will set a dangerous precedent. We can¡¯t let them think they can strong-arm us into submission every time they¡¯re unhappy with our decisions. We¡¯re not a fucking charity, alright?"

    The sudden curse caught most of the newer ministers off guard. She was blunt and straightforward, simple as that. Viviana always had a way of pushing her buttons, especially when it came to the delicate balance of power and public perception. She was a noble who was born into a system where the only thing that matters are stability at all costs.

    ¡°We can¡¯t treat this like any other labor dispute,¡± Ries responded coolly after a while. ¡°If we use force, we risk escalating it into something far worse. These people aren¡¯t just protesting wages or conditions¡ªthey¡¯re angry because they feel betrayed by their own government. They¡¯ve seen the draft, and now they think we¡¯re playing them.¡±

    "Which we are," Viviana snapped. "That draft was never meant to appease the masses, it was to stabilize the damn country and that Empress of ours. You think rewriting it on their terms is going to bring them peace? They''ll want more, they always want more."

    Ries closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Viviana¡¯s hardline approach grated on her, but she couldn¡¯t afford to let it distract her now. The missing draft, the leaked constitution, the strike¡ªeverything was spiraling out of control. Depending on which action she might choose in this room, it could set the precedent for future events.

    ¡°What about the others?¡± She said, opening her eyes and scanned the room. ¡°Any other opinions, or does any of you agree with Minister Livingstone?¡±

    Immediately, one minister tapped the table loudly. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," it was Minister Callahan, the minister of health. An odd one out in the group of aristocrats is the fact he is from a commoner background. Difference is, he isn¡¯t a poor laborer, he¡¯s a businessman, or so she heard.

    Ries turned her attention to Minister Callahan, watching him carefully as he tapped the table and spoke up.

    "Look, Prime Minister, I come from a background where you don''t get handed things on a silver platter. I understand the frustration of these people out there, I really do. But you can''t govern by giving in every time someone raises their voice. Viviana¡¯s right¡ªas much as I loathe that idea¡ªif we bend now, we set a dangerous precedent. "

    Ries gave a thoughtful look. Callahan¡¯s perspective carried influence, especially because of his commoner roots. He had managed to climb the ranks in a system designed to keep people like him out, which gave his opinions more gravity in the eyes of the other ministers.

    Similar to her, now that she thought about it. Difference is one was able to get stupidly rich by making a business, the other¡­ well you know.

    "That doesn¡¯t mean we ignore the underlying issues," Callahan continued, his voice hardening. "But we can¡¯t let this strike cripple the country in the middle of a war. The Aquileans are watching¡ªif they see instability here, it could embolden them. The last thing we need is to look weak, especially when we¡¯re in the middle of mobilizing."

    "And what exactly do you suggest, Minister Callahan?" Ries asked with a neutral tone, though her mind was already on a million different consequences with the implications of their options. "A full military crackdown?"

    Callahan leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. "Not a full crackdown. But we need to regain control of the streets¡ªdisperse the crowds, arrest the ringleaders. Show them we¡¯re not afraid to act, but we don''t need to bring in the army just yet. Use the police and Marechausse¡­ sorry, they don¡¯t exist anymore, and then we open negotiations. We can''t afford this to drag on."

    Ries glanced around the room, gauging the reactions of the other ministers. Most nodded in agreement, though some looked uneasy. Viviana, unsurprisingly, seemed pleased.

    The Prime Minister weighed her options. She had to tread carefully. One wrong move could ignite the kind of unrest that couldn¡¯t be contained, but doing nothing was just as dangerous.

    ¡°We¡¯ll put it to a vote,¡± she announced. ¡°Raise your hands if you support Minister Callahan¡¯s proposal to deploy the police to disperse the strike.¡±

    She glanced around the room, watching as hands slowly began to rise. Callahan, naturally, was the first, followed by Viviana. Several more ministers followed, though a few hesitated.

    Four yeas, five abstentions, and three nays.

    A slim margin, but enough to proceed with Callahan¡¯s proposal.

    ¡°Very well,¡± Ries said, her voice calm but authoritative. ¡°The police will be deployed to disperse the strikers, but I want clear directives¡ªno unnecessary force. This is still a delicate situation, and we can¡¯t afford for it to spiral into outright violence.¡±

    Her eyes swept across the room, lingering briefly on the ministers who had abstained. The abstentions were a sign of apathetic reasoning, those who¡¯d have no reason or saw the issue as not theirs.

    "Minister Callahan," she continued, "you¡¯ll be responsible for coordinating with the police. Ensure that any ringleaders are apprehended swiftly, but do it with discretion. We¡¯re not making martyrs out of anyone.¡±

    Callahan nodded sharply. "Understood, Prime Minister."

    Ries shifted her gaze to the remaining ministers who had voted against the proposal, particularly Minister Elga Aesir, the Elf and Minister of Arcane Arts. The tension between the factions had always been palpable, but now it was on full display. Elga¡¯s faction had grown more vocal in recent months, opposing what they saw as increasingly authoritarian measures. Aside from Ries herself, Elga was the only non-human in the room, a fact that had not gone unnoticed.

    ¡°Minister Aesir,¡± Ries addressed the elf directly, ¡°you¡¯ve been quiet. I¡¯m sure you have concerns¡ªfeel free to voice them.¡±

    Elga sat back, folding her hands in front of her. Her pale eyes gleamed with the wisdom of centuries, but her expression remained unreadable. "Prime Minister," she said coolly, "my faction and I oppose this decision not because we wish to see chaos reign in the streets, but because we believe force, even under the guise of maintaining order, will only deepen the resentment."

    ¡°You¡¯re suggesting we let the strike continue?¡±

    Elga remained composed. "Not indefinitely, no. But deploying the police might suppress this particular strike in Valyra, yet it will do nothing to address the root cause¡ªthe leaked constitution. The people feel betrayed, and in their eyes, we are their betrayers. What they need are answers and reassurances, not the heavy hand of authority."

    Minister Viviana scoffed, clearly unimpressed. ¡°And what do you propose? That we hold hands and sing songs until they¡¯re satisfied?¡±

    Elga didn¡¯t take the bait. ¡°I¡¯m proposing dialogue. Meet with the leaders of the strike, listen to their concerns. Offer them a compromise before resorting to force. We must be seen as listening to the people, not crushing their dissent underfoot.¡±

    Both sides had valid points, but there was no time for indecision. The decision had been made, after all. Yet, ignoring Elga''s concerns could lead to even greater instability in the long run.

    After a brief pause, Ries'' voice hardened, though she kept her tone respectful. ¡°Minister Aesir, I understand your concerns, but the leak is a separate issue, one we¡¯ll address once the immediate crisis is under control. For now, we need to restore order, or the situation could escalate beyond what any of us can contain.¡±

    Elga inclined her head in reluctant acceptance. ¡°As you wish, Prime Minister. But remember, once force is used, trust will be much harder to rebuild.¡±

    ¡°Your concerns are noted, Minister,¡± Ries smiled. ¡°But we will not let the city descend into chaos.¡±

    <hr>

    Ries'' gaze swept across the streets below, where the sea of red-clad protesters swarmed like ants, a solid mass of defiance that the police struggled to control. Millions of striking workers and citizens, their collective fury undeterred by the show of force, had surrounded the governance complex. Even with the deployment of police, the sheer scale of the protest was overwhelming.

    However, her eyes drifted further down the boulevard toward the Imperial Palace. The palace guards, adorned in gold yellow and burgundy, stood vigilant and unmoving, keeping a tighter grip on the situation within the palace walls.

    For now, the true heart of the empire remained untouched by the unrest.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    The door to her office creaked open, interrupting her thoughts. Ries didn''t need to turn around to know who it was. She had been expecting this visit.

    "Director Vaspier," she greeted without turning from the window, her voice calm yet taut with tension.

    Orko Vaspier, head of the Imperial Security Directorate, entered the room silently, his dark eyes sharp and calculating behind his wire-rimmed glasses. He was a tall, thin man with a demeanor that always reminded Ries of a vulture circling its prey¡ªpatient, but ever ready to strike. Unlike Veron, the man was a complete blank slate.

    "Prime Minister," Orko said smoothly, his voice carrying a tone that suggested both respect and the slightest hint of condescension. He approached her desk, his movements deliberate and measured. "The situation is... evolving."

    Ries finally turned to face him, her feline ears twitching slightly as she studied the ISD director. "Evolving," she echoed. "Is that what we''re calling it now?"

    Vaspier¡¯s lips curved into a small, humorless smile. "Our agents have obtained the missing draft, you can see it in this folder." He placed a brown folder on the coffee table.¡±

    Ries'' fingers drummed on her desk as she stared at the folder Vaspier had placed on the table. The brown, unassuming folder seemed almost mocking, a reminder of how quickly things had spiraled out of control. Her tail flicked in irritation, her feline beastmen instincts urging her to react, but she kept her emotions in check.

    ¡°Let me get this straight,¡± she said in an icy tone. ¡°You have the missing draft now, after the city¡ªno, the entire Empire has erupted into chaos? Convenient.¡±

    Vaspier¡¯s expression remained unchanged, his dark eyes reflecting no emotion. ¡°The document only resurfaced in the last few hours, Prime Minister. We had agents working around the clock to locate it. As I mentioned, we believe it¡¯s already been copied and distributed.¡±

    Ries exhaled slowly. ¡°So? Do you know how it got stolen? Last I check, and I¡¯m sure you know, it was inside the drawer of my desk.¡±

    Vaspier adjusted his glasses, "Yes, Prime Minister. We are investigating the breach as we speak. The ISD has identified a handful of individuals who had access to your office during the critical window. However, it¡¯s not just a matter of access¡ªit¡¯s timing. Whoever took the draft knew exactly when and where to strike."

    Ries'' eyes narrowed, her fingers still tapping rhythmically on the desk. "You''re saying it''s an inside job?"

    "That¡¯s a possibility we''re not ruling out," Vaspier replied calmly. "Given the nature of the document and its implications, whoever is behind this has more resources and connections than your average dissident."

    ¡°Then who is it?¡± Ries snapped. ¡°Tell me. I¡¯ve given you people enough time to investigate.¡±

    ¡°Regretably, we have reached a dead end.¡±

    Ries'' tail flicked sharply, a sign of her growing frustration. She crossed her arms and leaned forward, eyes locked onto Vaspier. "A dead end? After all this time, that¡¯s what you bring me? While the empire teeters on the edge?"

    Vaspier remained unfazed, his expression as calm and cold as ever. "Prime Minister, we¡¯ve narrowed down the list of suspects, but none of them have left sufficient evidence to act upon. Whoever orchestrated this has covered their tracks well. They¡¯ve used proxies, intermediaries¡ªno one with direct ties to the leak. We¡¯re dealing with professionals."

    "And what do you propose we do next, Vaspier?" she asked, voice laced with sarcasm. "Wait until they¡¯ve burned the empire to the ground before we find the culprit?"

    Vaspier¡¯s thin smile appeared again, though it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. "I suggest we shift our focus, Prime Minister. The leak was a catalyst, but the bigger issue is controlling the narrative. The people don¡¯t just want answers, they want someone to blame. If we can direct that anger elsewhere, we might be able to diffuse the situation before it gets any worse."

    Ries raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite her annoyance. "You¡¯re talking about scapegoating someone."

    "Not scapegoating, Prime Minister," Vaspier corrected smoothly. "Redirecting. There are individuals within the aristocracy who have long opposed the Empress¡¯s reforms¡ªconservatives with a vested interest in maintaining the status quo. We could use them as a lightning rod for public outrage. Shift the blame onto those who would naturally benefit from destabilizing the government¡­" He trailed off.

    ¡°Or, we could use the Aquileans who are unfortunate enough to happen to live inside our borders. We are at war with their homeland, no?¡± He finished.

    Ries¡¯ fingers stopped drumming, and her gaze hardened at Vaspier¡¯s final suggestion. Her ears twitched in irritation, and her tail lashed behind her. The Aquileans," she repeated, almost as if testing the taste of it on her tongue. ¡°Citizens, many of whom were born here, who¡¯ve done nothing but live their lives under our banner. And you want to pin this on them and stir up more hatred in the middle of a war?¡±

    Vaspier¡¯s calm, predatory smile didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Prime Minister, the people are angry, confused, and scared. If we can channel that energy toward an external enemy, it will unite them under the Empire¡¯s banner again. We are at war, after all. Sacrificing a few Aquileans for the sake of stability isn¡¯t much of a stretch.¡±

    Ries clenched her jaw. "And when the truth comes out? When it¡¯s clear the Aquileans had nothing to do with this? You think people will simply forget we fed them a lie?"

    ¡°By the time the truth surfaces¡ªif it does¡ªthe situation will have stabilized. People will have moved on, and we¡¯ll be in control of the narrative.¡± Vaspier stepped closer, his voice lowering. "It¡¯s the safest option, Prime Minister. And the most efficient."

    Ries stood abruptly, moving to the window once more. She could still see the crowds surging in the distance, banners raised, voices shouting their anger into the wind. She hated this¡ªhated the politics, the manipulation, the games that people like Vaspier played so effortlessly, wielding fear and deception as easily as a knight wielded their sword. She hated¡ªloathed every single bit of it.

    "Do you really think this will stop the strikes?" Ries asked, her tone measured. "Blaming the Aquileans? These people aren¡¯t just angry about the leak, they¡¯re angry about everything. The inequality, the reforms, the way they¡¯ve been ignored by those in power. You think a scapegoat will solve all that?"

    Vaspier stepped back slightly, his thin smile widening as if he were unfazed by her concerns. "It won¡¯t solve everything, but it will buy us time. Time to address the deeper issues¡ªor time for the people to lose their momentum and the strikes to fizzle out. Either way, we regain control."

    Ries stood there in silence, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. This wasn¡¯t what she wanted. She wanted to reject Vaspier¡¯s proposal outright, to condemn the manipulation for what it was: a cowardly move to protect the powerful at the expense of the vulnerable.

    But what choice did she have? The Empire, this colossus that she had never fully embraced, now rested on a fragile foundation. Any moment of hesitation could send it crashing down, leaving nothing but ruin in its wake.

    A deep, unsettling feeling crept into her chest. When did she start caring about the Empire? When had the weight of this responsibility crept into her heart? She was supposed to despise it, to despise them¡ªyet here she stood, trying to salvage the mess they¡¯d made.

    Her instincts screamed for rebellion. To throw off the chains of decorum, march out into the streets, and tell the people the truth¡ªto make things right. But a colder, more rational voice whispered caution. What would that change? Could her actions, as righteous as they may be, actually make a difference now? Or would they only add fuel to the inferno already raging outside?

    For whom does the bell toll?

    She wasn¡¯t sure anymore. Perhaps it tolled for all of them¡ªfor the guilty and innocent alike, tangled in a web of lies and power plays.

    Ries drew a long breath, then turned to face Vaspier. Her tail flicked sharply, a sign of her continued agitation, but her expression was carefully neutral. ¡°¡­I¡¯ll consider it.¡±

    Vaspier¡¯s smile didn¡¯t falter. ¡°That¡¯s all I ask, Prime Minister. I trust you¡¯ll make the right decision.¡±

    As he turned to leave, Ries remained by the window, watching the people below. She wondered how many of those people understood the depths of the corruption beneath their feet, or if they, too, were caught in the web of lies spun by those in power.

    The absence of morality in politics, in every decision she had been forced to make, terrified her more than she wanted to admit. She wasn¡¯t made for this world, this game of manipulation and deceit. It clawed at her conscience, a weight growing heavier with each passing day.

    Looking back at it now, she should¡¯ve come clean to the guards that she wasn¡¯t a government official¡ªshould¡¯ve told them she wasn¡¯t meant to be Deputy Minister, let alone Prime Minister. But she hadn¡¯t. She had played the role, first out of necessity, then obligation, and now... She wasn¡¯t even sure anymore.

    Once more, her mind wandered back to the days when her life had been simpler¡ªwhen all that mattered was survival and becoming stronger in her tribe. The bureaucratic halls of power couldn¡¯t be more different from the life she knew, where strength and honor governed everything. Yet, here she stood, entangled in the Empire¡¯s machinery, trying to protect her people from a system that had done nothing but subjugate them.

    She clenched her fist. Had she become complicit in the very oppression she once fought against?

    The doubt gnawed at her, but beneath it was something stronger, something fiercer. She couldn¡¯t go on like this, playing the game by the Empire¡¯s rules, tiptoeing around the whims of the aristocracy and the Empress. There was a fire growing inside her¡ªone that had been stoked by the cries of the masses outside.

    For once, she had something the Empire couldn¡¯t take from her: a mandate from the people. These weren¡¯t just riots, they were cries for justice, for change. And she could be the one to deliver it, if she had the courage to defy the powers that be.

    She took another deep breath and closed her eyes, centering herself. Whatever decision she made, it would echo far beyond the walls of this office, far beyond the Empire¡¯s capital, and into the world.

    She would do it her way.

    Whether the Empress or the aristocracy liked it or not, the consequences be damned.

    <hr>

    Night had fallen on Valyra, but the protests showed no signs of slowing. The city''s streets, normally quieter by this hour, were alive with the clamor of voices, and even a sudden, torrential downpour couldn¡¯t quench the fiery determination of the crowds. Rain cascaded from rooftops and hammered against the pavement, soaking everything in its path, yet the people continued, undeterred.

    The tavern door swung open with a forceful thud, and Herman stumbled inside, dripping wet from head to toe. His gruff face was plastered with rainwater, his coat clinging to his broad shoulders. "Bah!" he growled, shaking droplets from his hair.

    Behind him, his daughter slipped through the doorway, more composed, carefully collapsing a soaked umbrella. "Dad, we could''ve shared the umbrella.¡±

    "Didn¡¯t want to inconvenience you," Herman grumbled, though his words were softened by a slight grin. He looked around the tavern, noticing the unusually large crowd.

    The room buzzed with the chatter of customers seeking refuge from the storm and perhaps from the rising tension outside. Behind the bar counter, Bart looked worn thin, rushing between patrons, his face a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude for the sudden business.

    "Remember," Herman started, his voice lowering as he glanced back at his daughter, "don¡¯t¡ª"

    "Don¡¯t drink alcohol, don¡¯t talk to strangers, don¡¯t get in trouble," she finished the familiar lecture, rolling her eyes. She had heard it countless times before, but it was clear her father meant well.

    Herman gave a curt nod, satisfied, though a hint of concern lingered in his eyes. The streets were unpredictable these days¡ªprotests, dissent, unrest. It wasn¡¯t the kind of environment where a father could feel entirely at ease, even in a place as familiar as Bart''s tavern.

    They found a table near the window, where they could still hear the faint echo of the protests outside. The rain drummed against the glass, casting blurry shadows of passersby. Herman sat heavily in his chair, wiping his face with a napkin while his daughter sat calmly in her seat, swinging her legs.

    "I''ll go order," he said, standing up. "I¡¯ll get you tea," he added, his voice softening slightly as he gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

    She gave him a small nod, her eyes drifting to the window as he headed toward the bar.

    Herman reached the bar, wiping his damp hands on his cheap coat. Bart glanced up from polishing a glass and gave him a nod of recognition, his usual weariness softened by a hint of a smile.

    ¡°Long day?¡± Bart asked, his voice gravelly from years of tavern talk. His gaze flickered over Herman¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I see you brought your daughter with you tonight. Managed to sort out her tuition yet?¡±

    Herman¡¯s expression tightened, his jaw setting as he glanced back at his daughter. She was staring out the rain-soaked window, oblivious to the conversation.

    Herman took a deep breath, he leaned on the bar, fingers drumming against the worn wood as he spoke. ¡°I¡¯m planning to join the army.¡±

    Bart froze, his eyes widening as the words sank in. ¡°The army?¡± he hissed, careful not to let his voice carry over the hum of the tavern. ¡°Are you out of your mind? You could get killed!¡±

    Herman held up a hand, as if to calm Bart¡¯s outburst. ¡°I know, I know.¡± He glanced over his shoulder at his daughter, still watching the rain trickle down the window, lost in her own world. ¡°But the government¡¯s calling for a general mobilization, and it¡¯s the navy getting sent into the thick of things with the Aquileans. I¡¯m not heading to the front lines, Bart. I¡¯ll be in the logistics division, far from any actual fighting.¡±

    Bart shook his head, still looking unconvinced. ¡°And you think that¡¯s any better? You think it¡¯s safe just because it¡¯s not the front lines? War¡¯s unpredictable, Herman. No one¡¯s safe.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a choice,¡± Herman replied, voice lowering. ¡°The tuition, the protests, the bills piling up... I can¡¯t wait around for something better. The pay is decent, and it comes with benefits. She¡ª¡± he nodded toward his daughter, ¡°¡ªshe needs this.¡±

    Bart''s expression softened, but the worry didn''t leave his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s a gamble, Herman. You sure you¡¯re willing to risk it all?¡±

    Herman took a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m doing it for her. I don¡¯t have the luxury of being afraid.¡±

    Bart looked down, his hands gripping the edge of the counter. ¡°War changes people,¡± he muttered. ¡°Just... be careful, alright? Your daughter needs you more than any paycheck.¡±

    Herman gave a slight nod, appreciating the sentiment but knowing it didn¡¯t change his decision. "I¡¯ll make sure she¡¯s taken care of. I¡¯ll come back." Holding up two fingers, he added, ¡°One tea for my daughter, and something strong for me.¡±

    Bart nodded mechanically, his mind clearly elsewhere as he grabbed a mug. ¡°Right, coming up.¡±

    Just as Herman settled back at the counter, the tavern door burst open, slamming against the wall with a force that silenced the room. A gust of rain-laden wind followed, but it was the entrance of the young woman, fiery and fierce, that drew every gaze. The red armband she wore was unmistakable¡ªhands clasped inside a cog, surrounded by a star, colored yellow¡ªsymbolizing the CDLWP, the revolutionary faction that had been igniting unrest across the city.

    Behind her, a group of similarly clad revolutionaries entered, their wet boots clomping against the wooden floor. They carried red flags bearing the same emblem, their movements purposeful and loud in the suddenly tense atmosphere.

    ¡°Barkeeper! We need to borrow this place for negotiations!¡± the woman¡¯s voice rang out, commanding the attention of everyone present. ¡°We will compensate you fairly.¡±

    Bart¡¯s face paled. His hands stopped mid-motion as he was about to pour Herman¡¯s drink. The tavern went silent, all eyes darting between the newcomers and Bart, who was clearly trying to decide how to respond.

    Bart opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. But it didn¡¯t matter¡ªthe CDLWP wasn¡¯t waiting for permission. The woman motioned to her comrades, and they immediately began rearranging tables and chairs, making themselves at home without a second thought.

    Herman watched the scene unfold, his grip tightening around his glass. He shot a quick glance at his daughter, who had turned her head toward the commotion, her eyes wide with curiosity.

    Curiosity kills the cat, as they say.

    Bart finally regained his voice, though it was shaky. ¡°I run a quiet tavern. You¡¯re going to scare off my customers.¡±

    The woman fixed him with a sharp look, her gaze steely. ¡°We don¡¯t intend to cause trouble. This negotiation could shape the future of Valyra, and your tavern just happens to be the safest place to hold it. You¡¯re free to stay open¡ªyour patrons will be safe.¡±

    Bart swallowed hard, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. He glanced at Herman, a silent plea in his eyes, but Herman gave a small shake of his head. This wasn¡¯t something either of them could control.

    ¡°You want a drink?¡± Bart finally asked the woman, his voice resigned.

    She smirked, though there was no humor in it. ¡°Just water. We¡¯re here to talk, not to party.¡± She glanced around at her comrades, who had begun setting up their makeshift negotiation space. ¡°But don¡¯t mind us. Carry on.¡±

    Herman returned to his daughter¡¯s table, placing her tea in front of her. ¡°Everything okay?¡± she asked with a soft voice.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Herman replied, though his eyes flicked back to the CDLWP group. ¡°Just a little... excitement.¡±

    The patrons who hadn¡¯t left tried to resume their conversations, but the mood in the tavern had irrevocably shifted. All the while, the young revolutionaries murmured among themselves, plotting their next move as if they were oblivious to the impact they had on the space around them.

    Several minutes passed, and the revolutionaries seemed to settle in, taking control of the tavern''s atmosphere as though it were their own war room. They huddled in close circles, murmuring in low voices, casting the occasional glance toward the entrance as if expecting someone important. But no one arrived, and the steady downpour outside likely kept whoever they were waiting for delayed.

    Herman sipped his drink slowly, his eyes never straying far from the group. His daughter, still curiously glancing at the strangers, whispered, "Who are they?"

    He hesitated for a moment, unsure how to explain. ¡°They¡¯re from a group called the CDLWP. Revolutionaries.¡±

    ¡°Are they... dangerous?¡± she asked, her voice barely audible.

    Herman¡¯s eyes flicked over to the woman with the red armband, discussing something with an older man. ¡°Depends on who you ask,¡± he muttered. ¡°But they¡¯re not here to cause trouble¡ªat least, not right now.¡±

    His daughter stared at the group for a few more seconds, then took a sip of her tea. ¡°They look serious.¡±

    ¡°They are,¡± Herman replied, glancing again at the door. He could feel the tension in the air building, the uneasy silence occasionally broken by the sound of rain pounding against the windows. Whoever they were waiting for, it seemed the tavern was stuck in a strange limbo until they arrived.

    Bart, visibly rattled, continued tending to the remaining patrons with less of his usual charm. Every movement he made seemed hesitant, as if he were waiting for something to go horribly wrong.

    Then, the tavern door creaked open once more, drawing everyone''s attention. This time, the figure who entered moved slowly, deliberately. She was tall, cloaked in a dark, soaked overcoat. The brim of her hat dripped with rain as she stepped forward, her boots squelching against the floor.

    "Looks like I¡¯m late," the woman remarked, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of familiarity that tugged at Herman¡¯s memory.

    He squinted at her, feeling a strange sense of recognition, as if he had heard that voice somewhere before. It tugged at the corners of his mind, teasing him with its familiarity but not quite coming into focus.

    The woman reached up and pulled off her wide-brimmed hat, shaking it slightly to rid it of the rainwater. As she did, two feline ears sprang free, twitching with irritation from the damp. Herman¡¯s breath caught in his throat.

    There was no mistaking her now. There was only one Beastmen who can wear such clothes, even if he didn¡¯t know what kind of Beastmen she is, there¡¯s no mistaking her status.

    It was her¡ªthe Prime Minister herself.

    Herman¡¯s heart skipped a beat. The Prime Minister¡ªhere? In this tavern? He had heard stories of her rise to power, whispered accounts of her sharp mind and even sharper instincts. Yet seeing her now, drenched from the storm yet commanding the room with little more than her presence, he felt a ripple of unease run through him. What could possibly bring someone of her stature to this backwater tavern, especially on a night like this?

    The revolutionaries had quieted down as well, their murmured plans put on pause. They too recognized the woman who now stood in their midst, though whether they saw her as a threat or an opportunity was hard to say.

    Her amber eyes scanned the room, assessing everyone with a calculating gaze before settling on the group of CDLWP members huddled together. The leader, the young woman who had commandeered the tavern earlier, straightened up, her fiery demeanor tempered by the sudden change in atmosphere.

    ¡°Negotiations, is it?¡± The Prime Minister¡¯s voice cut through the tension, there was no hint of expression in her voice. ¡°You should¡¯ve invited me sooner. After all, it¡¯s my empire you¡¯re trying to change, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    The woman with the red armband tensed but didn¡¯t falter. ¡°Prime Minister Katzennia,¡± she addressed her formally. ¡°We didn¡¯t think the government would take interest in a peaceful discussion among citizens.¡±

    The Prime Minister¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°Peaceful discussions don¡¯t usually involve barricading streets and inciting riots. But I¡¯ll indulge you for now.¡± She gestured with the hat in her hand.

    Herman felt his palms grow sweaty, gripping the table in front of him. His daughter, on the other hand, looked ecstatic. Herman only just remembered that apparently her daughter admires the Prime Minister as some kind of hero.

    The Prime Minister sat on her seat opposite to the CDLWP leader. Her soaked overcoat clung to her frame, though she seemed completely unfazed by the discomfort. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you have to offer then.¡±

    ¡°Offer?¡± the young leader echoed, trying to maintain her composure. ¡°This isn¡¯t a negotiation about favors. We want systemic reforms. A fair wage, the right to organize, and the abolition of forced labor in the factories. Your government needs to stop bleeding the people dry.¡±

    ¡°And the constitution¡ªdon¡¯t think we don¡¯t know what¡¯s in it! We demand free and fair elections, not this farce where a chosen few decide who gets to represent the people.¡± She continued, her tone growing bolder by the time she finished.

    ¡°Alright.¡±

    ¡°See! This is¡ªWait, what?¡±

    The revolutionary leader blinked in surprise, her rehearsed rebuttal dying in her throat. She had expected pushback, a heated exchange where she could rally the room and expose the Prime Minister¡¯s dismissiveness. But the simple, unexpected agreement left her momentarily speechless.

    "Alright?" she echoed, the word barely escaping her lips. Her body, still tense from her earlier declaration, now wavered with uncertainty.

    The Prime Minister¡¯s expression remained calm, though her eyes gleamed with an unreadable intensity. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table, the damp fabric of her overcoat making a soft squishing sound. ¡°You want systemic reforms, free and fair elections, and an end to forced labor,¡± she repeated, her voice clear and even. ¡°I said alright.¡±

    Herman¡¯s grip on the table tightened, and he could hear the soft gasp of his daughter beside him. The room, already thick with tension, seemed to freeze in time as everyone processed the Prime Minister¡¯s words.

    The revolutionary leader¡¯s mouth opened and closed as if she were trying to catch her breath. ¡°But¡­ you...¡±

    ¡°You expected me to argue with you,¡± the Prime Minister interjected, filling the silence that followed. ¡°You wanted me to tell you that such reforms are impossible or that you¡¯re asking for too much. But I¡¯m not here to dismiss your demands. I¡¯ve been listening¡ªclosely.¡±

    The leader clenched her fists, struggling to regain her footing in the conversation. ¡°You can¡¯t seriously mean to just... give in. The government never gives in. There¡¯s always a cost.¡±

    The Prime Minister waved her had. ¡°There is always a cost, but not the one you¡¯re thinking of.¡± She paused, her fingers tapping the edge of the table lightly. ¡°You see, the changes you demand are already in motion. Whether you¡¯re aware of it or not, forces within the government¡ªwithin the Empire¡ªare pushing for the very same things you¡¯re here to fight for. What you¡¯ve done, by raising your voices, is merely accelerating the inevitable.¡±

    The young leader narrowed her eyes. ¡°If that¡¯s true, then why has nothing changed?¡±

    ¡°Because,¡± the Prime Minister nonchalantly responded, ¡°reform takes time. Revolutions, however, are impatient. They¡ªyou¡ª want immediate results, consequences be damned. You don¡¯t trust the system, so you try to dismantle it¡ªwithout realizing that by doing so, you make it harder to implement the very changes you want.¡±

    Herman felt his heart pounding in his chest, his sweaty palms making it difficult to keep his hands steady. His daughter, oblivious to his anxiety, was practically glowing with admiration for the Prime Minister, her eyes wide with excitement. She seemed to hang on every word Katzennia said, as though witnessing a defining moment in history.

    ¡°But,¡± the leader pressed, her voice firming again, ¡°what guarantees do we have that the reforms will happen? You talk of trust, Prime Minister, but what reason do we have to trust you? Or your government?¡±

    The Prime Minister leaned back. ¡°I have no reason not to trust my own people. We are at war, are we not? Against a greater threat than internal division. The question is, are you patriots of this empire¡ªor are you willing to let it burn to prove your point?¡±

    The revolutionary hesitated, she glanced at her comrades, then back at the Prime Minister. "Patriots? We''re fighting for the people, Prime Minister. The people who suffer while you sit in your high towers, safe and secure."

    ¡°And that¡¯s exactly why I¡¯m here,¡± the Prime Minister replied. "I''m offering you the chance to work with me¡ªto be part of the solution instead of the problem.¡±

    The older man who sat beside the young leader put a hand on her shoulders, then he pulled her back presumeably to discuss.

    The leader''s brow furrowed as she listened, her earlier bravado now tempered by uncertainty. The Prime Minister, for her part, waited with a patience that seemed calculated. She knew the power of silence, and in this moment, she wielded it like a weapon.

    Herman''s daughter, oblivious to the undercurrents of the negotiation, leaned in and whispered excitedly to her father, ¡°She¡¯s incredible, isn¡¯t she? She doesn¡¯t even have to raise her voice.¡±

    Herman barely heard her, his own nerves too frayed to respond.

    After a few more murmured exchanges, the young leader straightened, the older man giving her a nod of reassurance. She faced the Prime Minister once more, though the fire in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by something more measured, almost pragmatic. Her voice, when it came, was steady but resigned.

    ¡°we¡¯ll work with you.¡±

    The Prime Minister smiled. ¡°Good choice. Though, now I must ask. How did you get the draft of the constitution?¡±

    ¡°We¡ª"

    ¡°AHHHHH!!!!¡± A scream pierced through the air, sharp and panicked.

    The tavern exploded into motion, the sound reverberating off the walls as a man rushed from the crowd. His face contorted with rage, and in his hand gleamed a sword.

    Herman barely had time to process the scene unfolding in front of him. The man moved fast¡ªtoo fast. The Prime Minister seemed to register the danger only at the last second, standing abruptly and raising the wooden chair in a swift, instinctive motion. The sword crashed into the chair¡¯s frame, the force of the blow splintering the wood, but the strike was only deflected, not stopped.

    A sickening thud followed as the blade found its target, piercing the Prime Minister¡¯s thigh.

    ¡°NO!¡± Herman¡¯s daughter screamed, her eyes wide in horror as the room descended into chaos.

    The Prime Minister staggered, gripping the shattered remains of the chair with one hand while blood began to stain her soaked overcoat. But even as the pain shot through her leg, her amber eyes were still sharp.

    Before the assailant could strike again, the tavern erupted. Patrons surged forward, a wave of bodies crashing toward the man, intent on subduing him. The revolutionaries, no longer bystanders, leapt into action. Shouts, curses, and the sound of tables and chairs being overturned filled the air.

    The assailant swung his sword wildly, desperate to escape, but the combined force of the crowd was too much. Someone tackled him to the ground, and the blade skittered across the floor, out of reach.

    The Prime Minister, meanwhile, had already begun assessing the situation, despite the blood trickling down her leg. She reached to her brooch pinned on her lapel and spoke some words into it. There was no panic in her tone, as if she¡¯s been through this before.

    Herman¡¯s daughter, her face pale, turned to her father. ¡°Is she going to be alright?¡± she asked, her voice trembling.

    He could barely find the words, watching as revolutionaries and patrons alike struggled to pin the would-be assassin to the ground. The Prime Minister, despite the injury, was already trying to stand, refusing to show weakness in front of those gathered.

    Just then, a group of men pushed their way through the crowd, Royal Guards¡ªthe Prime Minister¡¯s guards, no doubt finally catching up. One of them rushed to her side, his face taut with concern. "Prime Minister, we need to get you out of here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving until this man is dealt with.¡±

    The struggle at the center of the room intensified, but it ended just as quickly as it began. The assailant¡¯s last, desperate struggles ceased as his body slumped to the ground. The revolutionaries backed away, leaving him lying in a pool of his own blood.

    Silence descended over the room, the weight of violence heavy in the air. But as the tension began to ebb, it was the sight of the assassin¡¯s body that sent a fresh wave of horror through the crowd.

    Herman, still rooted to the spot, stared at the corpse in disbelief. The man who had attacked the Prime Minister wasn¡¯t lying there. In his place was something grotesque¡ªa creature that, at first glance, seemed humanoid but was unmistakably not human. Leathery wings splayed out beneath its broken form, and sharp fangs jutted out from its mouth, twisted in a deathly grimace.

    Gasps echoed around the tavern as people backed away from the body, eyes wide with terror. Whispers broke out, murmurs of confusion and disbelief spreading like wildfire through the crowd.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s not the man who attacked her,¡± someone stammered from the back, their voice shaking.

    For the Prime Minister, however, this strange turn of events might solve more than it complicated. Despite the authoritarian mask she wore, Ries was shaken to her core, though she would never let it show.

    <hr>

    Ries sometimes wondered if she was a miracle worker or simply reckless. She had successfully convinced the strikers to stand down and return to their jobs, though at the cost of promising actual liberal reforms without alerting the Empress beforehand.

    "Compulsive, much?" she thought to herself with a smirk.

    Was it her impatience that drove her to act, or was it the intoxicating taste of freedom¡ªof making choices without waiting for permission? Either way, getting stabbed had certainly not been part of her plan. Not even close.

    Her left leg still ached with a stiff, throbbing pain, forcing her to lean heavily on a cane to walk. The pain not just physical but a harsh reality check on her limits.

    She swore she was much more agile when she was an adventurer. What happened? Come to think of it, it has been ages since she trained or even wielded aa dagger or sword. The last time was during that Palushian war.

    Speaking of, she should ask Jachs about the status of the Palushian insurgency.

    She glanced down at her leg, her hand tightening on the cane. Sighing, she stood up and walked behind her desk, looking out through the window. She was expecting someone, you see.

    As if on que, the door to her office opened.

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister,¡± the man who entered spoke. It was Vaspier.

    ¡°Director.¡± Ries acknowledged, turning from the window. She leaned on her cane, keeping her posture straight despite the discomfort. "Have you figured anything out yet?"

    ¡°As a matter of fact, we have.¡± Vaspier stepped forward, his voice low but direct. ¡°The attempted assassination last night wasn¡¯t carried out by any ordinary assailant. It was a member of the Daemon race. Demons, if you will¡ªthe same kind that the western kingdoms are currently at war with.¡±

    ¡°Them? In Valyra?¡± She doesn¡¯t exactly know about that race, but she just nods along.

    ¡°Yes, and it gets worse,¡± Vaspier continued. ¡°They are shapeshifters. The man who attacked you was one of them, disguised as a human. It explains why his body transformed after death.¡±

    ¡°Shapeshifters.¡± She repeated the word, more to herself than to him. ¡°And what does the ISD make of this?¡±

    ¡°We suspect something more,¡± Vaspier calmly said. ¡°The Daemons have no reason to target the Empire unless they have allies here¡ªor a greater plan in mind. Perhaps even an attempt to destabilize us from within.¡±

    Ries gripped the cane tighter. The threat wasn¡¯t what frustrated her most¡ªit was the workload that had suddenly multiplied. Just when she thought she was making headway, this crisis appeared.

    ¡°And you''re certain it was a Daemon?¡± She asked, seeking confirmation.

    ¡°Well, you saw it yourself. The man shapeshifted back into his original form after he died.¡±

    Ries gave a slow, measured nod, her mind already turning over the implications. ¡°And I assume the ISD has developed plans?¡±

    Vaspier took a step forward, his tone calm, almost clinical. ¡°Yes, Prime Minister, we have. After identifying the germs, the inoculation campaign would be smooth-sailing.¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow. ¡°...You¡¯re talking about a purge, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°A controlled operation,¡± Vaspier corrected. ¡°If we want to contain this threat, we need to act decisively. Root out the Daemon shapeshifting as our people.¡±

    "And who exactly are the ''germs'' you intend to target?"

    ¡°Why, everyone. We have to make sure they aren¡¯t who they¡¯re supposed to be.¡±

    ¡°Everyone?¡± she repeated with disbelief. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Prime Minister. We have to ensure that no one hiding in plain sight is a Daemon. That means we can¡¯t exclude anyone from suspicion. Their ability to shapeshift makes them the perfect infiltrators.¡±

    Ries felt a chill run through her. ¡°You¡¯re suggesting that every person in this city is a potential enemy.¡±

    ¡°To a degree, yes,¡± Vaspier replied, unflinching. ¡°We¡¯ve already seen what they¡¯re capable of. The attack on you was only the beginning. If we wait, if we give them time to burrow deeper, the cost of inaction will be far greater than any discomfort now.¡±

    ¡°And how do you plan to ''make sure'' they¡¯re not Daemons?¡± Ries pressed. ¡°What kind of tests or processes are you even talking about here?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re developing arcane and biological tests¡ªthings that even the most skilled shapeshifters can¡¯t evade. But in the meantime, we¡¯ll have to rely on intensive scrutiny; identification checks, surveillance, and controlled interrogations. It¡¯s the only way.¡±

    Ries leaned against the desk, feeling the weight of the decision press down on her. She knew that if she gave him the green light, it would set a dangerous precedent. But the alternative¡ªdoing nothing while the Daemons gained ground¡ªfelt just as perilous.

    Ah, fuck it. Anything she said or decided will probably bite her in the ass. But that¡¯s already happened like what? Nine times already? A hundred?

    ¡°See that you do.¡±

 Part XX: Smoke and Mirrors

    Ever since the situation calmed down and the strikers return to work, the capital city has returned to a state of normalcy. The trams clattered down the streets, merchants hawked their wares in the market squares, and life seemed to settle back into a familiar routine. For most, it was a relief¡ªan easing of tension after the unrest. But for others, the new ''normalcy'' was a living nightmare.

    If you were unfortunate enough to be flagged as a person of interest by the ISD, the days of calm and routine had ended.

    Under Ries¡¯ orders, the ISD had doubled down on their efforts, conducting sweeping investigations and silent detentions under the veil of night. What had started as a targeted search for Daemon infiltrators quickly morphed into something darker. Homes were raided without warning, and those suspected of harboring or being connected to Daemons simply disappeared.

    The ISD¡¯s reach was all-encompassing, their eyes and ears seemingly in every street and alleyway. There were no safe places left, not in Valyra, nor anywhere in the Empire.

    But as harsh as they do their job, the ISD does in fact bring in results. Daemon shapeshifters were quickly identified and disposed of. Those who aided them were dealt with in kind.

    Presently, Ries sat behind the desk of her private office. Before her lay a report freshly delivered by the ISD¡ªforty thousand Daemon infiltrators, rooted out and ¡®dealt with,¡¯ it claimed.

    Allegedly. The truth behind the numbers had long become an enigma, and she had learned to take such reports with a heavy dose of skepticism.

    Her recent injury had conveniently removed her from the frontlines of these decisions, relegating much of the burden to Clarissa back in the governance complex. For now, the ISD would run its course without her direct oversight.

    With a sigh, she pushed to paper aside and flipped open the new document underneath it.

    The CDLWP¡ªspecifically Sardine''s Liberal faction¡ªhad spread the word of her promises far and wide. Now, their "kindly" insistence for action was turning into pressure, demanding her go through with her promises she made last week. She had expected the demands to mount eventually, but the speed at which they now came was unnerving.

    The document in front of her was the seventh draft of the new constitution. It had been written and revised by both herself and Clarissa over the past days¡ªa more democratic constitution, if only on paper. It was far from perfect and far from what some within the CDLWP were pushing for, but it was the best compromise they had managed so far.

    The document stipulated greater representation for the lower classes, a reformed system of checks on government officials, and increased transparency in state affairs. At its core was the introduction of an elected House of Representatives, where the electorate would include every citizen above the age of 20, regardless of race, religion, social status, or education. It was radical in its simplicity¡ªtrue universal suffrage. For the first time in Imperial history, commoners, even the marginalized like her own Beastman kin, would have a voice in governance.

    However, the most critical point¡ªand the one Ries knew would be the most contentious¡ªwas that the Empress would retain her powers. The new constitution, while more democratic in certain areas, had to ensure that the monarchy¡¯s control remained intact. Anything else would have been political suicide, and Ries wasn¡¯t interested in getting executed for treason.

    Still, there was no denying that this draft tilted the Empire towards a more democratic system. For the first time, commoners would have a say in local governance, something unheard of in recent history. In theory, this could be a peaceful way to prevent another worker strike or a full-blown revolution.

    But she wasn¡¯t naive. The aristocrats would fight tooth and nail to keep their privileges. Which is why their ''rights'' would be upheld by the creation of a House of Lords. Made up exclusively of the aristocracy, this bicameral legislature would maintain the aristocracy¡¯s grip on power in the upper echelons.

    Though technically, either house could propose and pass laws, but there was a crucial caveat: the Empress retained veto power over everything. No law would come into effect without her approval, ensuring that, in the end, the final say always lay with the monarchy. The Empress remained the keystone in this entire constitutional framework.

    Speaking of the Empress... Ries¡¯ stomach churned slightly as her thoughts drifted to her sovereign. This latest revision of the constitution hadn''t been approved by her yet. In fact, neither had Ries'' negotiations with the striking workers or the promises she had made to them. She had been walking a dangerous line, acting without explicit permission and hoping the Empress would either come around to her point of view¡ªor, in the best-case scenario, remain unaware until it was too late to reverse course.

    But knowing the Empress, that hope seemed increasingly foolish.

    Just then, the door creaked open, revealing Ilya, Ries¡¯ maid. A Siren, Ilya had a quiet presence, though she looked much more clean and collected now than when they first met. Yet despite her growing confidence, she still fidgeted at times, and one particularly annoying habit was the occasional shedding of her feathers, which would litter the floor.

    "Um, Madam Katzennia," Ilya began, her voice soft as she nervously played with her hands, "there is someone at the front door looking for you."

    Ries raised an eyebrow, already irritated by the intrusion. "Who is it?"

    "I don¡¯t know," Ilya admitted, shifting her weight nervously. "She just¡­ told me to get you and came inside the house herself."

    "Inside?" Ries'' expression hardened. "Where is she now?"

    "The living room," Ilya answered quietly.

    Whoever this was had better have an exceptionally good reason. Grabbing her cane, she stood up, brushing past Ilya without a word and quickly descended down the stairs.

    As she entered the living room, however, her irritation froze into something else entirely. Sitting comfortably on the couch, as though she owned the place, was a golden-haired woman. The woman''s smile was pleasant but unnervingly sharp, and her attire, unusually simple compared to what Ries would expect, didn¡¯t mask her identity.

    Ries'' breath caught in her throat. "I¡­ your majesty?" she stammered, eyes widening.

    The Empress inclined her head ever so slightly, her smile never faltering. "Lady Katzennia." Her voice was calm, melodic, and terrifying in its refinement. "I heard of your injury and came to extend my deepest sympathies. However," her eyes narrowed, the warmth of her smile turning into something far more dangerous, "I could not help but overhear talk of certain¡­ democratic reforms?"

    Ries felt her heart lurch, her throat suddenly dry. The Empress¡¯ smile remained, but there was a glint in her eyes that made Ries want to run¡ªor kneel. She swallowed hard, choosing her words carefully.

    "Your Majesty, I¡ª"

    "Do not insult me with prevarications, Lady Katzennia," the Empress interrupted, her voice soft but edged like a knife. "I trust that you have been rather busy, making promises to the discontented masses, striking deals with factions behind my back.¡±

    Ries winced, her ears flattening. "I had hoped to ease tensions among the workers, your Majesty. To prevent further unrest¡­"

    The Empress rose gracefully from the couch, taking a step toward her. "How benevolent of you," she said with a feigned sweetness that only deepened the menace beneath. "I must commend your initiative. But did you truly believe reforms of this nature¡ªmy reforms¡ªcould be enacted without my knowledge? Or perhaps, Lady Katzennia, you imagined yourself capable of governing without consulting the throne?"

    Ries stiffened, her tail flicking anxiously. The Empress¡¯ presence was overwhelming, the weight of her authority pressing down like a storm cloud about to break.

    "I would never¡ª" Ries started, but the Empress raised a hand, silencing her.

    "Indeed, you would not." The Empress¡¯ voice was chillingly calm, but her eyes¡­ her eyes held a power so intense, it felt as though they could strip a person bare with a single glance. She stood directly in front of Ries now, her gaze sharp enough to cut through the thickest armor. "Now, Lady Katzennia," the Empress continued, her words as lethal as any blade, "I kindly invite you to sit."

    Ries hesitated for a split second, but the weight of the command left no room for refusal. She lowered herself into the chair, her heart pounding in her chest as the Empress¡¯ unrelenting gaze stayed on her.

    "And you will," the Empress added with icy precision, "go through your little draft with me. Now."

    Ries gulped, reaching for the stack of papers she had been revising which had been conveniently placed by Ilya after seeing the direction of the conversation. There was no longer any pretense of casual conversation. The Empress had no intention of offering condolences or easing tensions. No, this was a reckoning.

    "We will correct the inconsistencies, if I do find them," the Empress continued, settling herself with an unnerving elegance into the couch opposite Ries. Her hands rested lightly on her lap, but there was nothing relaxed about her posture. She was as poised as a predator waiting to strike.

    Ries laid the document out on the table, her hands slightly trembling. "Your Majesty, this draft¡ª"

    "Is a commendable attempt," the Empress interrupted, leaning forward slightly, her eyes still locked onto Ries. "But understand this, Lady Katzennia. My Empire is not a playground for experimental governance. What you propose must serve my interests, as well as the interests of the people."

    Ries nodded, her throat dry. She began flipping through the pages, her voice quieter than usual. "The reforms aim to grant greater representation to the lower classes, an elected house, and¡ª"

    "Greater representation," the Empress mused. "A noble idea, in theory. But tell me, Lady Katzennia, do you believe that the common people possess the wisdom to govern themselves, even in part?"

    Ries hesitated, knowing full well that there was no safe answer to that question. "They¡­ deserve a voice, Your Majesty. To prevent unrest¡ª"

    "Ah, unrest," the Empress cut in, her smile returning, though it didn¡¯t reach her eyes. "You fear revolution, then? You believe appeasement will preserve the Empire?"

    Ries swallowed hard. "I believe it is a way to maintain stability without¡ª"

    "Without bloodshed," the Empress finished, her voice growing softer, yet no less dangerous. "And yet, Lady Katzennia, sometimes bloodshed is precisely what strengthens a nation. Stability is not maintained by bending to the will of the discontented masses but by ensuring they remember their place."

    Ries shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Your Majesty, I only wish to find a balance that¡ª"

    "The balance," the Empress said, leaning back slightly, "will come from understanding that any reforms must reinforce the Crown''s authority, not diminish it. You will revise this draft, with my guidance, to ensure that is the case."

    Ries nodded quickly.

    ¡°Then shall we begin?¡±

    <hr>

    Oblivious to the events that taking place in the building nearby. Anna walked with a lightness in her step, her basket swinging gently at her side. She hummed quietly to herself, her thoughts focused on one thing¡ªher destination.

    For as long as she could remember, enrolling in the prestigious Valerian Academy had been nothing more than a dream. She had always known her family couldn''t afford the tuition, despite the shock and pride on her father''s face when they had received her acceptance letter. It had been the only time she¡¯d seen him go pale, his hands trembling as he read the words aloud. But reality had quickly set in. The tuition was simply too expensive for a low-class commoner family like hers.

    Still, Anna refused to give up hope. She¡¯d worked hard, and she had always believed that if she was lucky enough, an opportunity might come her way. And now, it seemed it had.

    Just days ago, she had spotted a notice in a newspaper¡ªValerian Academy was opening scholarship programs! It had been the stroke of luck she¡¯d been waiting for.

    Finally, she reached her destination¡ªa small, familiar post office tucked between the bustling shops and streets. The bell above the door jingled softly as Anna stepped inside, the familiar scent of paper and ink filling the air. The place was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside.

    Her eyes landed on the figure behind the counter¡ªMr. Louis, the post office clerk. His head was tilted back, his arms crossed over his chest, clearly dozing off. His graying hair peeked out from beneath a worn cap, and a pair of reading glasses sat precariously on the tip of his nose.

    The old man jerked awake, his glasses nearly tumbling off as he blinked rapidly. "Wha¡ªoh, Anna!" he exclaimed, his voice hoarse from sleep. "You¡¯re here already, eh? Thought you¡¯d be in later."

    "I couldn¡¯t wait!" Anna beamed. "I have to send something important today!"

    Mr. Louis chuckled, rubbing his eyes. "Important, eh? Well, let¡¯s get to it then. What¡¯ve you got?"

    Anna eagerly pulled a neatly folded letter from her basket, the scholarship application she had spent the last two nights perfecting. She placed it on the counter with a sense of finality. "I need this sent to the Valerian Academy," she said, her voice filled with hope.

    Mr. Louis eyed the letter for a moment, then gave her a warm, approving smile. "Ah, so you¡¯re aiming for that scholarship, are you?"

    Anna nodded, her excitement bubbling over. "It¡¯s my only chance. I just know it!"

    Mr. Louis chuckled as he took the letter, adjusting his glasses. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to send it, but it¡¯ll cost 20 Silver Virs for the postage stamp.¡±

    ¡°No Problem!¡± Anna reached into her basket and set down the required 20 Silver Virs. Mostly in pennies and a few worn down notes here and there.

    Mr. Louis glanced down at the pile of coins and tattered notes with a bemused smile, shaking his head slightly. ¡°Well now, that¡¯s quite a collection you¡¯ve got there,¡± he said, his wrinkled fingers carefully sorting through the currency.

    Anna blushed, but she grinned. ¡°It¡¯s all I could scrape together. I¡¯ve been saving for weeks.¡±

    The old man chuckled again, this time with a touch of admiration. ¡°A determined one, aren¡¯t ya? That¡¯s good. Keep that fire, and who knows, you might just be the Empire¡¯s next great scholar.¡±

    He counted the coins one last time, then nodded in satisfaction. ¡°All set.¡± He took a stamp from the drawer behind him and pressed it firmly onto the envelope. The soft thump echoed in the quiet office, and for a moment, Anna felt like her heart had stopped. Her dreams, her future¡ªeverything was tied to that simple piece of paper now.

    Mr. Louis slid the letter into the outgoing mail bag and gave Anna a reassuring wink. ¡°It¡¯ll be on its way by the end of the day. Valerian Academy should get it by the week¡¯s end.¡±

    Anna let out a breath she hadn¡¯t realized she¡¯d been holding. ¡°Thank you, Mr. Louis!¡± She said softly, her heart swelling with gratitude.

    "Don''t mention it, kid," he replied with a wave of his hand. "Just make sure you make the most of that scholarship when you get it."

    "I will!" Anna promised, her eyes gleaming with determination. ¡°Uhm¡­ do you have any new postage stamps?¡±

    "Hm? Oh right, still collecting those, huh?" Mr. Louis said, rubbing his chin. "Let me see what I¡¯ve got." He shuffled over to a small drawer behind the counter and rummaged through its contents. After a moment, he pulled out a small booklet and flipped it open, displaying several stamps with intricate designs.

    Anna leaned in, her eyes lighting up. "Wow, those are beautiful!" she exclaimed, her gaze fixated on a particularly striking one that depicted the Empire¡¯s grand airship soaring through the clouds.

    Mr. Louis smiled at her enthusiasm. ¡°This one¡¯s from the newest series, just came in last week. It¡¯s a limited edition, commemorating the completion of the new airship fleet.¡±

    Anna¡¯s hand hesitated over her basket. "How much for this one?" she asked, knowing she didn¡¯t have much left after the postage.

    ¡°For you? Just 5 Silver Virs,¡± he said with a wink. "A collector like you deserves a break."

    Her face lit up, and she quickly rummaged through the basket again, pulling together the 5 Silver Virs, though this time with more ease. She handed over the coins, and Mr. Louis carefully peeled the airship stamp from the booklet, handing it to her with a knowing smile.

    "Thank you!" Anna said, beaming. She tucked the stamp safely into her basket, her heart still racing from excitement. ¡°I¡¯ll add it to my collection when I get home. It¡¯s perfect!¡±

    ¡°You take care now, Anna,¡± Mr. Louis called as she turned to leave.

    "I will!" Anna called back, pushing open the door and stepping out into the bustling streets. She clutched her basket tighter as she walked away.

    Today had been a good day. The letter was sent, the scholarship was within reach, and her beloved collection had just grown by one beautiful piece.

    <hr>

    As Anna strolled past a quaint little caf¨¦ nestled just outside of Ries'' building, her thoughts wandered back to her hopes for the future. She barely noticed the quiet buzz of conversation, the clatter of cups, or the occasional tram rolling by.

    Unbeknownst to her, inside that same caf¨¦, a woman with silver-white hair sat quietly, sipping her coffee. The sunlight caught her hair, making it gleam like moonlight.

    Moments later, a man approached and sat across from her without a word of greeting. He was unassuming in appearance, looking much like any local Valyrian might. Yet, beneath the fa?ade, there was something off about him¡ªhis movements too fluid, his presence too cold. The air around them seemed to shift.

    "Mademoiselle," the man leaned in, he spoke in a low, measured tone. "We¡¯re compromised."

    The woman''s eyes narrowed slightly, though she continued to sip her coffee without showing any outward sign of distress. Her demeanor remained unshaken, composed. Only the subtle flicker in her gaze hinted at any reaction.

    "How bad is it?" she asked, her voice smooth and deliberate, barely loud enough for anyone nearby to overhear.

    The man¡¯s lips tightened into a grim line. ¡°Valeria¡¯s ISD is far more effective than we anticipated. They¡¯ve rooted out more than expected, and it won¡¯t be long before they close in on us.¡±

    The woman leaned back in her chair, finally setting her cup down with a soft clink. She crossed her legs, her pale fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest of her chair as if considering something.

    "And what of the others?" she asked, her voice still composed, though a hint of impatience seeped in.

    "Scattered. Most have either fled or... disappeared. The Empire¡¯s reach is everywhere," the man replied, glancing briefly over his shoulder as if expecting someone to appear at any moment.

    The woman¡¯s eyes followed his gaze, scanning the streets, but her expression remained unreadable. "Tch," she muttered softly, more to herself than to the man.

    Certainly, if only that amateur infiltrator hadn¡¯t acted so rashly and tried to stab the Prime Minister, none of this would¡¯ve spiraled out of control. What should have been a silent, undetected mission had turned into a fiasco. Now, their entire operation was compromised, the Imperial Security Directorate breathing down their necks.

    At the very least, Ries would only have a vague description of her¡ªnot enough to cause significant harm. Still, it was an unnecessary risk that had now put them all in jeopardy.

    Her irritation deepened as she another event in her mind. All of this could have been avoided if that fool hadn¡¯t tried to kill and shapeshift into someone so openly. It didn¡¯t matter that it was nighttime; people still screamed. And it just so happened that a police station was nearby.

    The woman¡¯s fingers drummed against the side of her cup, the only sign of her growing frustration. That infiltrator had panicked, tried to flee, and ended up shot dead before she could complete her mission. If she had succeeded, they would have had unprecedented access to the Empire''s inner workings. The entire point of her taking the Imperial examination was to blend in, not make a spectacle of herself and die.

    Instead, they were back to square one, with no direct line to the government, and worse, they were being hunted. The Empire¡¯s security forces were ruthless and efficient, a miscalculation on their part. One mistake, and they were closing in like wolves to the scent of blood.

    "If only she¡¯d held her nerve," the woman murmured, her voice bitter with regret. "We¡¯d have had a foothold inside the Imperial bureaucracy."

    And the chaos she tried to trigger by giving the dissident CDLWP the undemocratic draft of the constitution? It didn¡¯t last a day when Ries met with the leaders and promised reforms herself. It was as if she knew all along.

    The woman turned her icy gaze to the man across from her. "How goes the Imp¨¦ratrice and the west?"

    The man puffed his chest. ¡°Our armies have conquered the puny human kingdoms and stormed the Holy City. The Hero was struck a devastating blow, and Her Majesty the Imp¨¦ratrice have forged an alliance with the Valkorian and Borian humans.¡±

    The woman¡¯s eyes narrowed at the mention of the Hero. "Struck a blow, you say? But not dead."

    The man shifted uncomfortably, his initial bravado faltering under her scrutiny. "No, not dead. But severely weakened. It¡¯s only a matter of time before¡ª"

    "Time we may not have," the woman interrupted. "A wounded beast is still dangerous, especially one as stubborn as the Hero. He¡¯ll rally, somehow. They always do. And what of this alliance with the Valkorians and Borians? Are they truly as loyal as they seem, or are they simply waiting for the opportunity to betray us?"

    The man smirked. "The humans have come to realize who the true superior race is. They have offered their forces willingly."

    The woman rolled her eyes. That was obvious bullshit.

    "Spare me your delusions," she muttered under her breath, casting him a sidelong glance. She knew better than anyone that the Valkorian Kingdom and the Borian Tsardom were bitter enemies, bound by centuries of bloodshed and conflict. Sworn to tear each other apart at the first opportunity, their rivalry ran too deep to simply vanish overnight. How the Imp¨¦ratrice had managed to corral them into an alliance remained a mystery, but one thing was certain¡ªthey wouldn¡¯t stay united under her will for long.

    The woman¡¯s thoughts drifted back to the larger picture. The task at hand was clear; destabilizing the Empire enough to force its leadership to think twice before meddling in western affairs. That was the priority. The Imperial armies were formidable, but even the strongest power could be drained, stretched thin over multiple fronts.

    Her only hope now lay with the Aquileans. The naval war between the Empire and the Aquilean Empire had dragged on for quite some time now, and if things continued as they were, it could prove the key to crippling the Empire¡¯s resources and focus.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The woman shifted her legs, crossing them underneath the table as a faint smile curled on her lips. Truly, this is a life worth living. The thrill of operating in the shadows, guiding events from behind the scenes¡ªhow exciting. The rigid life under the Church had never afforded her this kind of freedom. Out here, there were no sermons, no blind obedience, just the exhilarating dance of strategy and manipulation.

    Her eyes flicked back to the man across from her, who sat attentively, waiting for her next command. ¡°We¡¯ll aid the Aquileans with intel,¡± she said, her tone cold and measured. ¡°Make sure they win every engagement at sea. Feed them our reports¡ªfleet movements, supply routes, everything.¡±

    The man nodded. ¡°And if the Valerians¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªfind a way to end the war quickly?¡± she cut him off. ¡°Don¡¯t let them. Sabotage their supply lines, disrupt their communications. Whatever it takes. This war needs to drag on. The longer it does, the weaker the Empire becomes.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Gloire ¨¤ l''Imp¨¦ratrice,¡± the man echoed, bowing slightly. He exited the caf¨¦, and when no eyes were on him, his form shifted, skin and bones rippling as he dissolved into a new shape¡ªa simple, unremarkable figure of a local merchant. Without another word, he blended seamlessly into the bustling crowd, vanishing as if he¡¯d never been there.

    <hr>

    In one of the tallest skyscrapers in Valyra, a structure that stood as a testament to the Empire''s modernity¡ªits steel beams gleaming in the sunlight¡ªan impromptu meeting was taking place. Ministers of various portfolios, each with their own political leanings and vested interests, had gathered in the office of one of their own. The room itself was a blend of old-world grandeur and cutting-edge design, reflective of the building¡¯s new construction techniques.

    Minister Eugen Pritwitzz of Transportation, stood admiring a large, intricately detailed miniature of an airship suspended from the ceiling. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her grin bright but unreadable. ¡°Why, I really like what you¡¯ve done with the place,¡± she remarked, her heterochromatic eyes gleaming as she took in the scene.

    "Thank you," replied Viviana Livingstone, now Minister of Home Affairs. She set her glass of wine down with a soft clink. "It was a gift from my son. He¡¯s studying at Lemradt Polytechnic, and he thought it might suit the aesthetic."

    Aside from them, there were other minsters who sat on the couch. Some more laid back, and some more guarded.

    Minister Recina Helvia, the Queen of the Empire¡¯s many de jure protectorate states¡ªthough, in practice, these territories were little more than annexed provinces. She sat calmly sipping the tea she was served with a calm demeanor. She knew her lands were, in truth, no more than glorified provinces of the Empire.

    Leaning back in his chair, Minister Alto Jachs of Military Affairs seemed almost disinterested in the proceedings. He leaned back on the couch and seemed to doze off.

    Meanwhile, Minister Ernst Talbott of Agriculture sat with visible discomfort. He had never been at ease in rooms like this, where political scheming took precedence over practical concerns. He fidgeted in his seat, unsure why he had been invited to such a high-stakes meeting.

    And finally, the only non-human¡ªMinister Elga Aesir of Arcane Arts. She sat quietly, and without a word. As the only Elf in the room full of human aristocrats, Elga was keenly aware that the decisions made here could shape not only the fate of the Empire but also the lives of her people and countless others who fell under Imperial rule.

    Minister Alto Jachs, still lounging with his boots up, cracked open an eye and lazily glanced in Viviana''s direction. ¡°Say, that guy is late, isn¡¯t he?¡±

    The person he was referring to was Minister Nay Wels of Foreign Affairs. His easy-going attitude even in serious conditions certainly helped the ministers feel at ease, perhaps that was because of his expertise on diplomacy, the same kind of diplomacy that kept the Empire distance itself from the world, but not too much.

    ¡°You know how he is.¡± Viviana replied, pouring herself more wine.

    ¡°Lord Wels has a way of turning up when it matters most. Though it would be nice if he showed that same punctuality here,¡± Recina remarked coolly as she took a sip of her tea. Her words were sharp, though her tone remained composed, a practiced habit of courtly etiquette. Jachs, reclining lazily in his chair, let out a scoff but said nothing.

    The door swung open just then, and Minister Nay Wels strolled in with his usual relaxed air, his briefcase tucked under one arm and a casual smile playing on his lips. Despite the gravity of the situation, his presence had a strange calming effect on the room¡ªa trait that had served him well in countless tense negotiations. His easygoing demeanor, even in the face of mounting crises, seemed to reassure his colleagues that diplomacy, not war, was still the Empire¡¯s greatest strength.

    For now.

    ¡°Heya, I¡¯m here, guys,¡± he greeted.

    ¡°Speak of the devil,¡± Jachs muttered, finally sitting up from his usual slouched position, his impatience thinly veiled behind a lazy grin.

    Viviana set her wine glass down with a sigh of relief. ¡°Cutting it close, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    Nay shrugged, his smile never wavering. ¡°There¡¯s a war brewing out west, Viviana. Things tend to take a little longer when half the continent¡¯s ready to explode. No, correction¡ªhas exploded.¡±

    Recina, raised an eyebrow. ¡°And yet, here you are, looking as untroubled as ever.¡±

    Nay chuckled as he settled into one of the chairs, setting his briefcase down on the table. ¡°I try.¡±

    The room watched in silence as he flipped open the case, revealing a stack of documents, maps, and coded dispatches. ¡°But in all seriousness, we have a situation. The West is becoming more volatile than we anticipated.¡± He looked around to make sure everyone¡¯s listening. ¡°The Kingdoms led by the Holy City have been routed by the Daemons and have retreated into the Kingdom of Rozafyr. Meanwhile, the Daemons somehow managed to convince the Valkorians and Borians to ally with them, casting aside centuries of rivalry and war.¡±

    Jachs¡¯ grin disappeared. ¡°They¡¯ve what?¡±

    Nay nodded. ¡°I know. It doesn¡¯t look good for us. Our foreign arms sales have dried up. The western kingdoms were our best customers, and now that they¡¯ve been defeated, their orders have vanished. Meanwhile, the Daemons have started buying up Valkorian and Borian weapons¡ªnot ours.¡±

    His eyes shifted to Recina. ¡°Which means our foreign reserves¡ªgold, specifically¡ªaren¡¯t flowing into the treasury like they used to.¡±

    Recina set her teacup down carefully, her brow furrowed. ¡°This could cripple our economic leverage.¡±

    Or worse, it would weaken the Imperial Virs.

    Though the Virs were a paper currency, their value was pegged to gold, and without foreign reserves flowing in, that value could spiral downward. Worse still, not a single nation outside the Empire accepted the Virs for trade as every import required gold. And with the west in ruins and the Daemons uninterested in trading, the once-reliable source of gold had vanished.

    At least Rozafyr still stood. So that¡¯s a plus.

    Oblivious to Recina''s internal calculations, Nay pressed on, his tone now more pointed. ¡°Aside from the economic impact, the Daemons and their new allies are gearing up for a fresh offensive¡ªthis time, their sights are set on Rozafyr. And we all know what happens if they breach that border.¡±

    A murmur of agreement passed through the room, though the implications of Nay¡¯s words were heavier than the ministers seemed willing to acknowledge. The Empire had long adhered to a treaty with the Holy City and the western kingdoms after the last crusade. One key stipulation of that treaty was that Rozafyr would remain independent as a buffer state between the Empire and the west. Any threat to Rozafyr was a direct threat to the Empire¡¯s carefully maintained isolation¡ªand peace.

    Viviana leaned back, crossing her arms with a skeptical expression. ¡°So, what¡¯s your brilliant solution, Nay? We¡¯re listening.¡±

    Nay leaned in, grinning. ¡°We let them invade, and then we intervene.¡±

    The room went quiet, the gravity of his words sinking in. Ministers exchanged glances, trying to gauge one another¡¯s reactions. Nay, unperturbed, continued. ¡°Recina, you must realize that the war with the Aquileans, our economy is in the best shape it¡¯s been in years, correct?¡±

    Recina¡¯s remained silent. Waiting for him to elaborate.

    Unfazed, Nay pressed on, eyes flicking briefly to Recina as if to coax her agreement. ¡°Unemployment? At an all-time low. Productivity? Sky-high. The stockholders are seeing record returns on their investments. War bonds? They¡¯ve put money in the hands of the people. We¡¯ve had an economic renaissance thanks to war¡±

    He was right. The Empire¡¯s coffers had swollen with the profits of war. Factories hummed day and night, military contracts fed entire industries, and the Imperial Virs had retained its strength¡ªfor now.

    Viviana was the first to break the silence. ¡°And why, exactly, are you suggesting we jump into another war in the middle of our current war?¡±

    Nay¡¯s gaze swept the room, his voice steady. ¡°Because, Viviana, war is profitable. It¡¯s as simple as that. The longer it drags on¡ªso long as we don¡¯t stumble into a catastrophe¡ªthe better it is for our economy.¡±

    The ministers exchanged uneasy glances. Everyone knew it, even if they wouldn¡¯t say it outright: War was good for business.

    ¡°That¡¯s a hawkish stance for a diplomat.¡± Elga Aesir, the elven Minister of Arcane Arts, finally broke her silence, her voice tight with annoyance.

    Nay turned to Elga. ¡°I¡¯m a realist, Elga. Peace is always preferable, but we¡¯re beyond that now. The Daemons won¡¯t stop at Rozafyr, and if we stand idly by, we¡¯ll find ourselves in a worse position later. We need to control the conflict¡ªdictate its terms. And if we profit in the process? All the better for the Empire.¡±

    ¡°Okay¡­¡± Viviana sighed as she rolled her eyes. ¡°Even if we ignore the fact that opening a second front is a terrible idea, we are not going to war¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ah, ah, Viviana,¡± Nay interrupted, a finger raised in mock correction. ¡°Let¡¯s not forget that our sovereign holds the title Apostolic Queen of Rozafyr.¡±

    Viviana¡¯s eyes narrowed, recognizing where this was going. ¡°You¡¯re saying we have a legal obligation?¡±

    Nay grinned. ¡°It¡¯s more than legal, Viviana. It¡¯s symbolic. Rozafyr is not just a buffer state¡ªit¡¯s a part of the Empire¡¯s legacy. Our Empress¡¯ authority over Rozafyr ties us to its fate, and any attack on Rozafyr is an attack on our sovereign territory.¡±

    A ripple of murmurs spread through the ministers. The weight of Nay¡¯s argument began to take hold, even in the minds of his skeptics.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re proposing we intervene as a defensive measure?¡± Eugen spoke up after a while, her voice breaking the tension. ¡°To defend Rozafyr¡¯s sovereignty¡ªand, by extension, the Empire¡¯s. If we uphold our treaty, we justify our involvement on the world stage. Is that what you¡¯re getting at?¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Nay affirmed, his grin returning, clearly pleased with himself.

    ¡°A clever idea I admit,¡± Eugen crossed her arms. ¡°But as you say, we¡¯re not only going to fight the Daemons, we¡¯re also going to fight their new friends. We¡¯re talking about the Valkorian Kingdom and the Borian Tsardom¡ªboth with modern, well-equipped militaries and combat experience.¡±

    Nay didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°That¡¯s where strategy comes in. We don¡¯t jump in with all our forces¡ªno need to throw everything at the problem. We start small but smart. We arm Rozafyr with weapons. The Hero¡¯s party could use some new equipment, too. They¡¯ve proven effective, and arming them would strengthen our position on the ground.¡±

    Recina raised an eyebrow. ¡°You want to funnel military support through Rozafyr and the Hero¡¯s party while keeping our own forces in reserve?¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Nay said, leaning forward. ¡°It gives us a buffer. We strengthen Rozafyr, making it harder for the Daemons and their allies to overwhelm them. At the same time, we assess the situation from a distance. If the conflict escalates, we have the advantage of time and preparation. We¡¯re not committing ourselves too early, but we¡¯re positioning ourselves to act swiftly if needed.¡±

    Viviana shook her head, muttering, ¡°Geopolitics¡­¡± before letting out a sigh. ¡°I suppose we should put this to a vote. All in favor?¡±

    All hands were up in the air, except for Elga¡¯s.

    Viviana¡¯s gaze swept the room. ¡°You get to vote too, Talbott.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± The Minister of Agriculture seemed to doze off. ¡°Oh, right¡­ I¡¯m in favor.¡±

    Viviana¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked over the room again. ¡°Looks like a majority.¡±

    A majority, even when only half of the Ministers of the entire cabinet are here.

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Nay unceremoniously leaned back on the couch. ¡°Go ahead and tell that Beastmen we have as our Prime Minister about the plan. She should have read the report I sent to her.¡±

    Viviana shot a sharp glance at Nay. "The Prime Minister," she emphasized, her tone clipped, "is not just some ''Beastman.'' Show some respect."

    Nay shrugged, unfazed. "Respect or not, she needs to be informed.¡±

    She has, in fact, hasn¡¯t read the report yet. Even after a week had passed. Or the week after as the documents continue to pile up.

    <hr>

    Meanwhile, far away from the mainland, far from the bureaucrats and aristocrats lavish dealings and decision-making, the real war was taking place.

    There is a saying that Valyrya only has two allies, It¡¯s Army and its navy.

    The great blue had seemed unconquerable to their ancestors, with the depths teeming with ancient monsters and unknown dangers. Now, those very depths were at war between to great powers.

    BOOM!

    Another Aquilean ship erupted in the distance, shattered by a battery shell. It didn''t sink, though¡ªnot truly. The Aquilean vessels were crafted with the magic of their underwater world, returned to their natural state, the wreckage regenerating after a set period. Still, it was better than letting them roam around.

    Fleet Admiral Canaris stood tall on the deck, watching as his fleet pushed deeper into enemy waters. Their goal wasn¡¯t just to destroy ships but to reach the heart of the Aquilean civilization¡ªtheir ancient aquatic cities, hidden in the ocean¡¯s depths.

    The water fought back. Strange, unnatural tides pulled at the Valyrian ships, as if the ocean itself resented their presence. But Valyrya¡¯s Navy was as unyielding as hunks of steel floating in the body of water.

    His fleet of Battlecruisers cut through the waves easily. They had trained for this moment, prepared to face the mystical forces of the deep. They learned¡ªas do the Aquileans¡ªfrom the previous four wars they fought. Doctrines were well set in place by now, all it needed now was to utilize tactics as effectively as possible.

    The war against the Aquileans had always been a messy affair. The Empire lacked the manpower or the capability to truly invade and occupy an Aquilean city, considering their cities were submerged far beneath the surface. And, in turn, the Aquileans, while formidable beneath the waves, were at a grave disadvantage on land. Every attempt to invade the Coroner Islands had ended in failure, their soldiers being repelled by the superior land-dwelling forces of Valyrya. The Aquileans¡¯ dependence on water made them glaringly vulnerable once they set foot on dry land.

    In short, neither side could conquer the other in their own territory.

    But this time, it will be different.

    ¡°Admiral! Depth charges at the ready!¡± Canaris¡¯ first officer barked, snapping a sharp salute.

    Canaris leaned against the railing, his eyes locked on the shimmering blue abyss below. Just beneath the surface lay the Aquilean city, glittering like a submerged jewel in the depths. The city, which had never seen destruction in its long history, was about to face Valyrya''s wrath.

    "Launch the charges," Canaris ordered, his voice steady and calm. He had no need to raise it¡ªhis crew were veterans, disciplined and efficient. They knew their roles.

    The depth charges were dropped, vanishing into the dark waters below. Seconds ticked by as the tension mounted. The Admiral''s gaze remained fixed on the rippling surface, waiting.

    Suddenly, the sea rumbled. The depth charges exploded far below, sending massive shockwaves through the water. The city beneath trembled, its protective barrier shimmering under the pressure. For the first time, Canaris saw cracks forming along the edges of the shimmering dome that protected the underwater metropolis.

    ¡°Continue launching the charges. Empty our reserves,¡± Canaris ordered, his hands gripped the railing, eyes fixed on the churning water.

    ¡°Aye, sir!¡± The crew moved swiftly, their movements mechanical in their precision. One by one, more charges were dropped into the depths, the ocean swallowing them whole.

    So far, he¡¯d met minimal resistance from the Aquileans. What worried him was the location of the rest of the Aquilean fleet, as he only encountered around seven.

    Another wave of detonations rocked the sea. The tremors were more intense this time, the barrier visibly splintering under the sustained assault. Water churned violently, and for the first time, Canaris could see parts of the city below¡ªits towering spires, glowing faintly beneath the broken shield.

    ¡°Admiral,¡± the first officer called, voice steady but urgent. ¡°The barrier¡¯s on the verge of collapse.¡±

    Canaris nodded, never taking his eyes off the ocean. "Good. Continue the bombardment."

    ¡°Admiral! Enemy movement detected,¡± another crew member shouted as he gripped the railing. "Something... something¡¯s coming up fast!"

    The surface of the water began to churn unnaturally, bubbling as if something massive stirred beneath it. Canaris¡¯s jaw tightened.

    The sea churned violently as the Aquilean ships broke through the surface, sleek and menacing, their strange, organic designs glistening with ocean water. Like predators rising from the deep, they moved with a fluid grace that made them appear almost alive. Their cannons swiveled in unison, locking onto Canaris¡¯s fleet.

    ¡°Ready all cannons!¡± Canaris¡¯s voice rang out with a calm authority. The crew scrambled into action, their movements efficient and practiced, battle-hardened from years of naval warfare¡ªmostly against the Aquileans, who else?

    The Aquilean ships struck first, their cannons unleashing a terrifying barrage. Explosions ripped through the water, geysers of salt crashing down over the Valyrian fleet, drenching the decks. Still, Canaris did not flinch.

    ¡°Return fire!¡± he barked.

    The Valyrian cannons thundered in response, their shells streaking across the horizon toward the glimmering hulls of the Aquilean ships. Fire and steel clashed, filling the air with a thick fog of smoke and the stinging scent of burning gunpowder.

    ¡°Admiral, they¡¯re trying to encircle us!¡± shouted the first officer, his voice edged with urgency.

    Canaris saw it. The Aquilean vessels were fast, their sleek forms cutting through the water like knives, using the ocean¡¯s unnatural currents to their advantage. They were moving to flank them, a classic Aquilean maneuver¡ªclosing the noose.

    "Hold the line! We¡¯re crossing the T!" Canaris ordered. "Don¡¯t let them box us in!"

    The Valyrian fleet maneuvered swiftly, adjusting their positions to maintain their line. The "T" formation was a classic naval tactic, designed to maximize the firepower of their broadside cannons while denying the Aquileans a full flank. But the Aquilean ships, with their agility and the magic-infused waters, were relentless.

    "Keep them at bay! Focus on the lead vessels!" Canaris¡¯s command cut through the tumult of the battlefield. He watched the Aquilean ships as they darted in and out of the smoke, their coral-encrusted hulls blending with the shimmering sea, ghostlike in their movement.

    Suddenly, explosions rocked the Valyrian fleet. A direct hit struck a ship on the right flank, the impact sending splintered wood and metal into the air. By sheer luck, the blast missed the shell storage, avoiding a catastrophic detonation.

    "Steady, men! Hold the line!" Canaris roared. Despite the damage, the Valyrian gunners did not falter. Their cannons continued to roar, firing volley after volley into the enemy fleet. The sea between the two forces churned with wreckage and bodies as the battle raged, neither side willing to give an inch.

    The Aquileans were closing in now, their swift ships weaving through the gaps in the formation. One particularly sleek vessel angled for a vulnerable spot in the Valyrian line, attempting to break through the T-formation.

    ¡°Focus fire on that ship!¡± Canaris commanded, pointing toward the approaching threat. The nearest Valyrian cannons turned in unison, unleashing a barrage of fire. Explosions ripped through the Aquilean ship, splintering its coral hull. But before it sank beneath the waves, it let loosed a final volley of shots, one striking a Valyrian ship at close range. The deck erupted into flames.

    ¡°Damage control, now!¡± Canaris barked, watching as the crew of the ship scrambled to put out the fires. They were holding, but barely.

    The first officer appeared beside him, his face drawn with tension. ¡°Admiral, they¡¯re pressing hard. If they break through¡ª¡±

    ¡°They won¡¯t break through,¡± Canaris cut him off. He stared out over the battlefield, his jaw clenched. The Aquilean ships were regrouping, adjusting their positioning for another assault, but Canaris had no intention of letting them close the gap.

    According to orthodox naval tactics, Canaris knew that if the formation collapsed, it would mean disaster. The swift Aquilean ships would seize every opening, exploiting their speed to strike at vulnerable spots. But orthodox tactics wouldn''t be enough to counter the enemy¡¯s agility and arcane-fueled advantage.

    "We¡¯ll deny them that advantage," Canaris muttered. "Prepare smoke screens. Reposition our ships for evasive maneuvers."

    The crew moved swiftly, deploying the smoke screens as ordered. Thick plumes of smoke began to rise, obscuring the Valyrian ships from view and forcing the Aquilean vessels to hesitate, unsure of their targets. The Valyrian fleet began to reposition, shifting the formation to confuse the enemy.

    Amid the cover, Canaris knew these next moments were pivotal. The Aquileans, though momentarily confused, were still deadly. Their ships, imbued with magical currents could cut through the water with unnatural speed. But now, the Valyrians had the element of surprise. The smokescreen would conceal their movements, and in the confusion, they could launch a decisive strike.

    "Focus fire on their flagship!" Canaris barked.

    He had spotted it¡ªan Aquilean vessel that dwarfed the others, its imposing presence unmistakable even through the haze. The flagship, bristling with cannons and coral armor, was the heart of their fleet, and Canaris had no doubt it was equipped with the same devastating weapon that had sunk the VIS Unsinkable in a previous encounter. Its destruction would be a crippling blow to the Aquileans, one that could break their morale and turn the tide of battle decisively.

    Or so he hoped.

    The Valyrian gunners, despite the chaos around them, swung their cannons into position, aligning them toward the massive target. Through the gaps in the smoke, Canaris could see the flagship looming, its dark silhouette cutting through the fog like a predator hunting for prey.

    "All batteries, fire at will!" Canaris commanded, his voice cutting through the din.

    The first volley erupted from the Valyrian fleet, cannon fire thundering through the smoke. Explosions blossomed across the surface of the water, and the first few shots found their mark, slamming into the flagship¡¯s armored hull. The massive vessel shuddered, but it didn¡¯t slow. Instead, the Aquilean flagship responded with a retaliatory broadside, its own cannons roaring in defiance.

    A deafening explosion rocked the air as the flagship¡¯s weapon fired¡ªa beam of pure energy, cutting through the smoke and striking one of the Valyrian ships. The VIS Imperious was hit, its hull splitting apart as the energy beam carved through it with terrifying precision. The ship listed dangerously to one side, its crew scrambling as the vessel began to sink beneath the waves.

    "Stay focused!" Canaris shouted, refusing to let the destruction of one ship shake the resolve of his crew. "Keep firing!"

    The Valyrian fleet responded with renewed ferocity, their cannons hammering the flagship with volley after volley. One of the shots penetrated the flagship¡¯s armor, and a secondary explosion erupted from within its decks. The Aquilean ship staggered, its coral hull cracking under the relentless assault.

    "Another broadside!" Canaris ordered.

    The Aquilean fleet, sensing the vulnerability of their flagship, surged forward in a desperate bid to shield it from further destruction. Sleek coral ships maneuvered with unnerving precision, positioning themselves in front of the retreating vessel as if forming a living barricade. Their hulls shimmered with enchantments, and their cannons, though smaller, opened fire to suppress the Valyrian onslaught.

    "Admiral, they''re covering the flagship''s retreat!"

    Canaris narrowed his eyes, watching the unfolding maneuver. The Aquileans were throwing everything they had to save their flagship, but that move only revealed how critical it was to their strategy. If they could cripple it completely, the enemy fleet would crumble.

    "They''re panicking. Focus fire on their escorts!" Canaris commanded.

    The Valyrian gunners shifted their aim, adjusting their cannons toward the encroaching Aquilean ships. A fresh wave of cannon fire roared from the Valyrian fleet, the sky flashing with the fiery arcs of their volleys. The smaller Aquilean ships were agile, darting in and out of the smoke, but they couldn¡¯t dodge everything. Several were caught in the barrage¡ªone splintered under a direct hit, its magical hull breaking apart in a shower of coral debris, while another limped away, smoke pouring from its stern.

    "Don¡¯t let them regroup!" Canaris bellowed. "We¡¯ve got them on the run!"

    The Valyrian fleet pressed forward, their ships advancing into the smoke-filled waters. Cannons thundered from both sides as the battle escalated to a chaotic crescendo. The Aquilean escorts, though formidable, were no match for the concentrated firepower of the Valyrian fleet. One by one, they began to fall back, their once-coordinated movements now devolving into disorder.

    "Admiral," the first officer said, his voice tense but steady, "the flagship is attempting to withdraw by submerging! If they make it, they¡¯ll slip away."

    "Of course they are," Canaris muttered, his frustration mounting. The Aquilean ships, with their coral-encrusted, semi-biological designs, were perfectly suited for underwater combat. A retreat into the depths would give them an overwhelming advantage, making any pursuit almost impossible for the surface-bound Valyrian fleet.

    But Canaris wasn¡¯t about to let them slip away so easily.

    "Signal the Imperator and Judgment¡ªfull speed ahead!" Canaris ordered. "We¡¯re cutting them off before they submerge! Focus fire!¡±

    The crew sprang into action as Canaris¡¯ flagship surged forward, the battlecruisers cut through the smoke and debris like a spearhead. Other ships followed, their engines roaring to life as they chased the retreating Aquilean flagship.

    "Admiral," the first officer spoke again, his voice lower, "the enemy flagship is powering its weapon again. They¡¯re preparing another energy shot."

    Canaris stared through the haze of battle, eyes locking onto the faint glow building around the Aquilean flagship¡¯s coral-encrusted hull. It was unmistakable¡ªtheir main weapon, a devastating energy beam, was charging. His jaw tightened. This was their last desperate move, a final attempt to turn the tide of the battle before retreating into the depths.

    He had to make a choice. Closing the distance now meant taking a high-risk shot at the flagship''s vulnerable systems, potentially scoring a critical hit and securing the kill. But if the energy beam fired, they could lose more than a ship¡ªhis experienced sailors and further damaged his fleet.

    ¡°Admiral?¡± the first officer¡¯s voice held a trace of hesitation.

    Canaris weighed his options quickly. The price of victory could easily become too steep. They had crippled the Aquilean fleet and sent their flagship into retreat. More damage would only risk his own fleet¡¯s safety, especially with the enemy weapon already primed.

    His decision came swift and final.

    "Deploy the smoke screens! We¡¯re retreating!"

    The crew moved with speed and precision, launching thick plumes of smoke that rapidly obscured the battlefield. The Valyrian ships, still locked in formation, began to peel away from the front line, their engines rumbling as they turned to withdraw.

    The Aquilean flagship, now fully charged, fired its weapon. A brilliant beam of energy shot forth, slicing through the air like a spear of light, but it missed its mark. The Valyrian ships were already lost in the cover of the smoke, and the beam dissipated harmlessly into the sea.

    <hr>

    Far from the naval battlefield.

    "Honey, the truck is here..." Clara''s voice wavered as she peered through the cracked window, her fingers nervously gripping the curtain. Outside, a military truck idled, waiting for her husband.

    "I''m coming," Herman replied, his voice steady though his steps were heavy. He slung a worn-out duffel bag over his shoulder, carrying what few essentials he''d packed. Enlisting in the army at his age¡ªwell into his 30s¡ªhadn''t been an easy choice. But for their daughter, it had to be done.

    The tuition at Valerian Academy was steep, too steep for a commoner family like theirs. But the military offered a path¡ªa discount for the children of soldiers, along with steady pay and benefits that could ease the burden. It was worth it, he told himself. Everything for Anna.

    Still, as he glanced around the small, dimly lit home, a pang of regret hit him. Anna wasn¡¯t there to say goodbye. Maybe it was better that way, he reasoned. It would¡¯ve been harder if she¡¯d seen him leave. But a small part of him wondered¡ªWhere on earth had she run off to? Shouldn¡¯t she be here?

    Clara¡¯s soft voice broke the silence. "Are you sure about this, Herman?" She turned to face him, her eyes filled with concern. "It¡¯s not too late to change your mind..."

    Herman gave her a gentle smile, but it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. "I¡¯m sure. It¡¯s the only way." He paused, his grip tightening on the strap of his bag. "For Anna."

    Clara¡¯s voice trembled as she asked, ¡°But what if you get¡­ killed?¡± Her words hung in the air, filled with the fear she¡¯d been holding back for weeks.

    Herman stopped, turning to face her fully. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, his touch firm but reassuring. ¡°No, don¡¯t worry,¡± he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. ¡°I¡¯m not joining the Navy, Clara. The Army isn¡¯t going anywhere anytime soon. I¡¯ll be stationed close to home, and it''s mostly routine work. I¡¯m not exactly on the front lines.¡±

    Clara swallowed. ¡°Are you sure? Promise me then.¡±

    Herman paused, his eyes softening as he looked at Clara. He reached out, gently taking her hands in his. ¡°I promise,¡± he said quietly, his voice steady, though his heart weighed heavy with the uncertainty that lingered between them.

    Clara squeezed his hands tightly, as if holding on to the promise would make it more real, more certain. ¡°You better keep that promise,¡± she whispered, her voice barely holding back the emotion that threatened to break through.

    He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. ¡°I will. For you and for Anna.¡±

    ¡°Mom! Dad! What¡¯s with the military guys?¡± Anna came home it seems. By the looks of it, the fifteen-year-old had quite the adventurer around the city.

    Herman froze mid-step, turning to see Anna standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with curiosity as she glanced at the military truck and then back at her parents. Clara stiffened beside him, caught off guard by their daughter¡¯s sudden return.

    ¡°Anna, sweetheart¡­¡± Clara began, her voice soft but hesitant. She shot a glance at Herman, silently pleading for help.

    Herman took a deep breath and crouched down to be at eye level with Anna. ¡°Hey, kiddo. I, uh¡­ I¡¯m going to be away for a while,¡± he said carefully. ¡°I¡¯ve decided to join the army.¡±

    Anna blinked, her face twisting in confusion. ¡°Wait, what? Why? You¡¯re not a soldier.¡±

    Herman forced a small smile. ¡°I know, but it¡¯s a chance for us to make sure you can go to the Valerian Academy. It¡¯s important, Anna. This is how I can help you get there.¡±

    Anna frowned, her adventurous spirit seeming to fade as reality hit her. ¡°But¡­ you don¡¯t have to leave for that, do you?¡± Her voice wavered. ¡°I sent the scholarship application at Mr. Louis¡¯ post office, you don¡¯t have to leave.¡±

    He sighed softly, cupping Anna¡¯s cheek. ¡°I¡¯m proud of you for applying, Anna. I really am. But we can¡¯t count on that scholarship, and the Academy is expensive. This is the best way to make sure you get the education you deserve.¡±

    He gave her a reassuring pat on the head, offering a small smile despite the lump forming in his throat. "I¡¯ll be back before you know it."

    But Anna¡¯s response took him by surprise. She threw her arms around him, holding him tighter than ever before. "You better be..." she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

    Herman closed his eyes, his hand stroking her hair in gentle, comforting motions. "I will."

    It¡¯s only a year and a half, he thought, trying to convince himself as much as his family. How bad could it possibly be?

    Clara stood behind them, silently watching, her arms folded as if trying to hold herself together. She cleared her throat softly, and Herman pulled away from Anna, meeting his wife''s gaze.

    "We¡¯ll write you every day," Clara said, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "And you¡¯d better write back just as often."

    Herman chuckled softly. "You won¡¯t be able to get rid of me that easily."

    As they shared a quiet moment, the sound of the truck¡¯s engine rumbling to life outside cut through the silence, reminding them all that time was running out. Herman kissed Anna¡¯s forehead one last time and rose to his feet, picking up his bag with a heavy heart.

    Anna looked up at him, eyes wide and glistening. "Dad... just promise me you¡¯ll come back."

    "I promise, Anna."

    With one final look, he turned and headed toward the door.

 Part XXI: Whirlwind of Danger

    ¡°¡­ and that¡¯s 550 Yeas and 0 Nays. The constitution will replace existing laws, henceforth becoming the supreme codex of laws, and the National Assembly dissolved effective immediately.¡±

    The speaker¡¯s words hung in the air, followed by polite, measured applause from the nobles seated in perfect rows. It wasn¡¯t the enthusiastic celebration of a triumph, but the forced politeness of people well aware that their choices had been made for them. The National Assembly managed to regain some semblance of its old vigor ever since Eden¡¯s coup, albeit the scars of the incident were still visible on the walls ridden with bullet holes and the workers still out and about fixing everything.

    Ries sat behind the podium, her feline ears flicking in quiet irritation as the nobles murmured among themselves. Next to her, on a raised dais, stood the throne¡ªa gilded symbol of absolute power. In theory, the assembly could debate and deliberate policies, but the Empress¡¯ mere presence demanded submission. Even in her absence, the outcome had been a foregone conclusion. No noble dared to defy her will.

    The old order of the aristocracy had crumbled. The seats once occupied by cunning and seasoned statesmen were now filled with the younger, inexperienced heirs of noble houses, scrambling to fill the void left by their predecessors. Their inexperience made them eager for favor and quick to bow, all too aware that any misstep could mean their family''s ruin for the second time.

    For Ries, the Empress¡¯ priorities were clear after their recent encounter, that is: Absolutism. The new constitution cemented the crown¡¯s dominance, granting the Empress unchallenged authority to appoint or dismiss ministers at will, to grant or to revoke privilege at will, and to veto any laws at will. The aristocracy¡¯s influence was now little more than an illusion¡ªa tattered remnant of what it once was.

    And Ries? Well, it¡¯s not like she could go against her will anyways. She could already feel the metaphorical crosshairs on her back, as if an unseen ¡®X¡¯ had been painted there. The longer she remained in the game, the more certain she was that someone¡ªsomewhere¡ªwas sharpening their blade, waiting for the right moment.

    Even so, despite the crown¡¯s stranglehold on power, a faint outline of democracy remained. It was little more than a fa?ade though¡ªenough to appease the liberals but far from what they had hoped for.

    Still, elections were elections, and they had been scheduled two months from now. Whether it was genuine reform or just political theater, preparations had to begin immediately.

    It wasn¡¯t as simple as shouting a campaign slogan and declaring candidacy. Electoral districts needed to be drawn, some of which would inevitably be contested by nobles clinging to their influence. Regulations had to be put in place to prevent fraud¡ªalthough Ries doubted they¡¯d succeed. Then there was the nightmare of logistics: where polling stations would be located, how votes would be cast, and, more importantly, how they would be counted.

    Then there¡¯s also the question of the Empires many protectorate states. On paper, these territories were independent kingdoms or autonomous entities under the Empire¡¯s ¡°protection.¡± In reality, however, they had long been treated like ordinary provinces, with the Empress reigning as the ultimate authority. Now, with the constitution officially in place, that thin veil of autonomy was gone. The protectorates were legally reorganized into provinces, subservient to the central government.

    Whether their local rulers would accept this was a different story. Many had ruled as semi-sovereign leaders for generations, paying tribute to the Empire only out of pragmatism, not loyalty. Some would resist this new arrangement¡ªand resistance could mean rebellion.

    For Ries, one question pressed on her mind above all others: What would happen to her tribe¡ªthe Katzen tribe? Her people, technically one of the many protectorates, were now little more than a line item in the new territorial divisions. And her father, the tribe¡¯s chief¡ªhow would he respond?

    The Katzen tribe had always cherished their independence, not even bothering to hide their disdain for outsiders, their pride rooted in old traditions. Would they bow to the will of the central government, or would they fight to remain free?

    She knew she couldn¡¯t put this off. The Integration Commission¡ªformerly the Tribal Affairs Commission¡ªwould be responsible for integrating these territories, and it just so happened to be she is the Prime Minister. If her tribe was to survive the coming storm, she needed to ensure their interests were protected.

    Because, at the end of the day, she was still a Beastmen. Titles and ministerial authority wouldn¡¯t change that in the eyes of her people¡ªor the Empire. To the Empire, she was a convenient pawn, a symbol of progress they could point to. To her tribe, she was a traitor¡ªone of the many who had joined their oppressors.

    It was a lonely place to stand¡ªbetween two worlds that might never see her as anything more than a means to an end.

    <hr>

    ¡°Woooah¡­¡± Elisabeth whispered, wide-eyed as she took in the bustling, snow-dusted streets of the imperial capital.

    In the game [My Handsome Prince], the city had been little more than a backdrop¡ªa series of elegant painted stills that gave just enough flavor for romance to bloom between stolen glances and clandestine meetings. Political intrigue? Cultural tensions? Complex histories? All of that had been brushed aside, barely mentioned between love triangles and flirtatious banter.

    But now, as Elisabeth stepped off the train, she wasn¡¯t looking at static scenery¡ªshe was in the heart of it. Valyra was alive.

    ¡°My lady, please, right this way. The automobile is waiting for you.¡± One of her butlers nudged her to come with.

    Grand buildings with intricate stonework stretched high above the streets, their roofs dusted with fresh snow. The sidewalks were crowded with people bundled in thick winter coats, carriages clattering past, competing with trams, and the occasional automobile sputtering noisily through the slush-covered roads. A haze of chimney smoke drifted lazily across the rooftops, while the scent of roasted chestnuts lingered in the air.

    She had seen it all before¡ªwell, some version of it on her screen. But experiencing it firsthand left her breathless. She felt overwhelmed, as though she were standing in a novel where the background had suddenly been written with too much care, every detail was vivid and full of life.

    ¡°My lady, this way. The automobile is waiting for you.¡±

    A butler, dressed in the immaculate black uniform of the Aloysius-Margarethe household, gave her a polite nudge.

    Right, She was Elisabeth Aloysius-Margarethe, the villainess of the story.

    Despite the cold, Elizabeth felt a bead of nervous sweat trickle down her neck. She had managed to narrowly avoid the villainess¡¯s fate¡ªthe infamous execution ending. But her survival had come at a cost. Soldiers had suddenly arrested the heroine along with one of the key capture targets¡ªa twist that never happened in the game.

    Yet she was alive¡ªand for now, that was all that mattered. But what the hell was she supposed to do now? What does someone do when they''ve been transported into the body of the villainess, and the story is already over?

    Her thoughts drifted as the automobile door opened for her with a click, and the butler gestured her inside.

    ¡°Hey, can we stop by somewhere?¡± She decided to ask the butler.

    ¡°Of course, where would you like to go, my lady?¡±

    That¡¯s a good question. Where would she like to go?

    ¡°How about we go around the city in the automobile?¡±

    The butler gave a slight bow, his expression impassive. ¡°As you wish, my lady.¡±

    Elisabeth slipped into the plush leather seat of the automobile, adjusting her winter coat as the door closed behind her with a soft click. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air¡ªa subtle reminder of just how absurdly luxurious her new life was.

    The engine roared to life, the vibration humming through the floor beneath her boots, and soon they were rolling through the heart of Valyra.

    At first, Elizabeth leaned back, content to let the scenery pass her by¡ªornate storefronts, bustling cafes with their windows fogged from the warmth inside, and the glow of streetlamps lining the cobbled streets. But with every turn of the wheel, curiosity gnawed at her. This world felt so real. Every flicker of candlelight in a window, every muffled conversation drifting from the street¡ªit was like stepping into the pages of a history book written with obsessive care.

    People milled about the streets, bundled in thick coats and scarves, some haggling with street vendors, others rushing to catch the next tram. A city that felt both familiar and utterly foreign.

    And the strangest part? None of it was scripted. These weren¡¯t just filler NPCs, cycling through preset routines. They had lives, stories, moments she could never predict.

    The streets of Valyra were alive.

    The city reminded her of European cities from the nineteenth century, with its towering cathedrals, wrought iron balconies, and narrow cobbled streets. But it wasn¡¯t frozen in the past¡ªmodernity had crept in, like ivy growing over ancient stone. Trams rumbled along the streets, sleek trains roared overhead on elevated tracks, and early-model cars clattered alongside horse-drawn carriages.

    As the car cruised down a bustling avenue, a small crowd gathered in front of a shop window caught her eye. They huddled together under the awning, watching televisions on display¡ªglowing screens playing the evening news.

    Elizabeth blinked in surprise. TVs? Here? She remembered the world from the game being steeped in fantasy tropes: knights, castles, and spells¡ªnot televisions and cars. Wasn¡¯t this supposed to be a magical world? Even then, wasn¡¯t it too early for a TV?

    ¡°What¡¯s going on there?¡± she asked the driver, her butler.

    The butler glanced back at her in the mirror, calm and professional as always. ¡°Ah, they are likely discussing the elections, my lady. It¡¯s been the main topic in the capital for the past few days.¡±

    ¡°E... elections?¡± Elisabeth repeated. This is supposed to be a fantasy world! Aristocrats pulling the strings, backdoor deals, and secret alliances¡ªthat was the bread and butter of places like this!

    Not elections!

    She leaned closer to the window, her breath fogging up the glass as she tried to catch every flicker on the black-and-white television screens. The news anchors pointed to maps marked with intricate lines dividing electoral districts, as if they were plotting military campaigns.

    Bold, scrolling headlines flashed at the bottom of the screen, but she could only make out fragments from this distance: "New Constitution Takes Effect"... "Rising Tensions"... "Historic First Vote in Two Months."

    ¡°Butler,¡± she called, her eyes never leaving the tv screen. ¡°Explain. What exactly are these elections?¡±

    ¡°The new constitution introduced parliamentary elections, my lady. The Empress¡¯ decree grants both commoners and nobles the right to vote, though naturally, the Empress retains supreme authority.¡±

    Elizabeth sighed, losing sight of the storefront as the car turned a corner. ¡°Really?¡± She leaned back against the plush leather seat, rubbing her temples. ¡°Just take me to my parents'' estate.¡±

    ¡°As you wish, my lady¡ª?!¡±

    The car lurched violently as the butler slammed on the brakes, nearly launching Elizabeth into the seat in front of her.

    ¡°What the hell?!¡±

    ¡°My deepest apologies, my lady. Hooligans ran into the road¡ª"

    Before he could finish, loud banging echoed from the windows, causing Elizabeth to wince. She regained her balance and peered out of the window, expecting to see some desperate street rats or drunkards. But no. Instead, standing right there in broad daylight, banging on her car¡¯s windows, were Lily¡ªthe heroine¡ªand Prince Lutto.

    ¡°What the¡­?¡± Elizabeth muttered in disbelief.

    It didn¡¯t end there. Prince Gerard and Sir Joseph¡ªtwo other capture targets from the game¡ªstood behind them, scanning the street like wary bodyguards. What are they all doing together?! The Crown Prince and the two most popular suitors in the game¡ªout in the open with the heroine and knocking on her car window?

    Why are the capture targets here?!

    Weren¡¯t the heroine and Prince Lutto imprisoned or something?!

    Elisabeth¡¯s mind scrambled for an explanation, but there was none that made sense. Instinct told her to look the other way and pretend she hadn¡¯t seen anything.

    This is a bad idea. This is such a bad idea.

    Against her better judgment, she found herself rolling the window down anyway.

    Prince Lutto, spotting her first, leaned down to meet her gaze with intense glare and¡­ urgency?

    ¡°Elisabeth! We need your help!¡±

    Before she could respond¡ªor slam the window shut¡ªthe car doors flew open. All four of them tumbled inside in a chaotic blur, squeezing into the cramped space without so much as a ¡°please¡± or ¡°thank you.¡± Lutto, Gerard, Joseph, and Lily pressed against each other like sardines in a tin, the three suitors awkwardly positioning themselves between the heroine and Elizabeth as if the villainess posed some mortal threat.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Elizabeth was now squashed against the right-side door, sandwiched between Gerard¡¯s arm and what smelled like someone¡¯s cologne¡ªprobably Joseph¡¯s, knowing his vanity. She clenched her jaw.

    ¡°Could someone explain what the hell is going on?¡± she demanded, struggling to free an arm trapped beneath Prince Gerard¡¯s elbow.

    ¡°There¡¯s no time!¡± Lily gasped, clutching the hem of her dirtied academy uniform. ¡°We need to move¡ªquickly!¡±

    ¡°Move?! Where are we going?! What did you guys do?! Aren¡¯t you supposed to be in prison or something?!¡± Elisabeth hissed, trying to wiggle into a more comfortable position, but it was impossible with five people crammed into the backseat of a car designed for four.

    The butler, unshaken by the pandemonium unfolding in the backseat, gave a polite cough and met Elisabeth¡¯s gaze in the rearview mirror. ¡°Shall I proceed to your parents'' estate, my lady?¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes! The Aloysius-Margarethe estate!¡± Lutto nodded, and the others quickly followed suit, desperate to escape whatever danger was nipping at their heels. His serpentine tail slapped Elisabeth in the cheek and kept wiggling along much to her dismay.

    The butler gave a curt nod, shifted the car into gear, and eased them onto the road. Just as they turned the corner, shouting erupted from behind them.

    Elizabeth twisted around in her seat just in time to see Imperial soldiers flooding into the street, weapons drawn.

    ¡°What the¡ª?¡± Elizabeth¡¯s stomach dropped. She glared at the four idiots now squirming in the backseat with her. ¡°What did you do?! Why are the soldiers after you?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as it looks,¡± Gerard said quickly.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s exactly as bad as it looks,¡± Joseph corrected under his breath, glancing anxiously out the back window.

    Elisabeth¡¯s eyes widened as realization hit her. ¡°Did you guys break them out of custody?!¡±

    Gerard winced. ¡°Well, when you say it like that¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what happened,¡± Joseph muttered, rubbing his temples. ¡°We couldn¡¯t stand by as Lily is possibly being tortured.¡±

    Elisabeth groaned, resisting the urge to slam her head against the window. ¡°So, your grand plan was what exactly? Kidnap a bunch of prisoners and cram them into my car?!¡±

    Lutto¡¯s serpentine tail wiggled again, flicking her in the face. She swatted it away with a growl. ¡°Can you not with the tail right now?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, sorry!¡± Lutto tucked his tail beneath him, but his grin suggested he wasn¡¯t sorry at all.

    Lily, meanwhile, had shrunk into her seat, trying to avoid Elisabeth¡¯s glare. ¡°We didn¡¯t think the soldiers would catch on so fast...¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re Imperial soldiers, Lily! That¡¯s their job!¡± Elisabeth hissed, throwing her hands up. ¡°And now I¡¯m involved in this circus!¡±

    BANG!

    A stray bullet hit the metal of the car.

    ¡°They¡¯re shooting now?!¡± Elisabeth yelped, ducking instinctively as the sharp clang of metal echoed through the car.

    Lily shrieked, clutching onto Joseph¡¯s arm, while Lutto cursed under his breath, his tail flailing despite his earlier attempt to keep it tucked away. Prince Gerard leaned over Elisabeth protectively, as if that would somehow shield her from the barrage of bullets.

    ¡°Butler! Lose them!¡± Elisabeth ordered.

    ¡°Very good, my lady.¡± The butler¡¯s voice remained infuriatingly calm, as if being chased by armed soldiers was just another task on his daily to-do list.

    The car lurched forward as the engine roared to life, tires screeching against the cobblestone street. Elisabeth barely had time to brace herself before they shot down a side alley, the narrow walls flashing by in a blur.

    ¡°Hold on!¡± the butler called, spinning the wheel hard. Everyone in the backseat was thrown sideways, Lutto¡¯s tail slapping Elisabeth square in the face again.

    ¡°For the love of¡ªtie that thing down!¡± Elisabeth hissed, swatting it away for what felt like the hundredth time.

    The sound of soldiers shouting and the distant bark of gunfire echoed behind them, but the alley was too tight for the soldiers'' vehicles to follow. Elisabeth glanced back, hoping they¡¯d gained some ground¡ªonly to see a pair of motorbikes appear at the alley¡¯s entrance. Their headlights gleamed like hunting eyes, and they accelerated fast.

    ¡°They¡¯ve got bikes!¡± she shouted, her heart pounding.

    ¡°I see them,¡± the butler replied coolly. With an effortless flick of the wheel, the car careened into a sharp turn, sending everyone shrieking¡ªexcept the butler. Snow piled along the road exploded into the air, cascading over the bikes in their wake.

    The car skidded onto a main road, nearly colliding with a tram as it rumbled past. The butler swerved at the last second, dodging it with an elegance that seemed absurd under the circumstances. The motorbikes, however, weren¡¯t so lucky. One rider panicked, clipping the side of the tram and spinning out with a loud crash.

    The remaining motorbike was closing in fast. Elisabeth could see the soldier¡¯s determined face in the side mirror¡ªand worse, the rifle strapped across his back.

    ¡°Uh, Butler?¡± Elisabeth¡¯s voice rose slightly. ¡°Do you have any tricks left?¡±

    ¡°Always, my lady,¡± he replied smoothly, as if she¡¯d just asked him if he preferred tea or coffee.

    Without warning, he yanked the emergency brake. The car screeched to a halt, tires screaming against the pavement.

    The sudden stop sent everyone lurching forward with a collective oomph. Elisabeth slammed into the seat in front of her, while Lily landed awkwardly across Joseph¡¯s lap.

    ¡°Are you insane?¡± Joseph wheezed, struggling to push Lily upright.

    But the butler wasn¡¯t listening. In a single fluid motion, he threw the car into reverse, flooring the gas. They shot backward at breakneck speed, narrowly missing the motorbike now directly in front of them. The soldier¡¯s eyes widened in panic¡ªjust as the car¡¯s front bumper clipped the bike, sending him flying into a street vendor selling his watermelons.

    The butler spun the wheel again, twisting the car around with a dizzying precision that defied logic. In the blink of an eye, they were speeding forward once more, leaving the wrecked bike and dazed soldier behind them.

    Elisabeth gawked, stunned silent for a moment. ¡°...Where did you learn to drive like that?¡±

    ¡°I am a butler of the prestigious House Aloysius-Margarethe.¡± The butler¡¯s smile in the rearview mirror was small, but unmistakably smug.

    Just as the words left his mouth¡ªCRASH!

    The car slammed through the estate¡¯s iron gate, metal screeching and sparks flying. The gate folded under the car¡¯s weight, its twisted remains scraping along the sides as they barreled forward.

    Elisabeth gripped the seat in disbelief. ¡°You crashed through the gate?!¡±

    ¡°Indeed, my lady,¡± the butler said without a trace of concern. ¡°I thought it best to expedite our arrival.¡±

    The car skidded to a halt in front of the estate¡¯s grand entrance, tires sending gravel flying. As the engine sputtered off, the butler turned to Elisabeth with an impossibly composed smile.

    ¡°We have arrived, my lady.¡±

    <hr>

    ¡°Ah, Madam Prime Minister?¡±

    ¡°Oh? Clarissa? You¡¯re still working?¡± Ries blinked in surprise as she stepped out of her office, locking the door behind her.

    She hadn¡¯t expected to bump into Clarissa¡ªespecially not at this hour. The Deputy Minister stood in the hallway balancing a precarious stack of papers which seemed it could fall at any moment.

    Ries glanced at the towering pile of documents and arched a brow. ¡°You know, carrying that much paperwork feels like a hazard.¡±

    Clarissa gave a weary but polite smile. ¡°It¡¯s part of the job, Madam Prime Minister. Besides, someone has to keep things moving while everyone else tries to go home at a reasonable hour.¡±

    Ries shook her head, adjusting her coat. ¡°I¡¯m off work, so call me R¡ªAnise,¡± she corrected hastily, coughing to cover the slip. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s the winter holiday. You should go back to your family.¡±

    Clarissa gave a soft, noncommittal hum, though the flicker in her eyes suggested that wasn¡¯t likely. ¡°I will. Eventually. Just a few things left to finalize.¡±

    ¡°¡®Eventually¡¯ sounds suspiciously like ¡®never,¡¯¡± Ries muttered. Snatching the top paper off the stack, she skimmed over it, her brow furrowing. ¡°Regulations on¡­ tires?¡± She read aloud, incredulously. ¡°What the hell are we regulating tires for?¡±

    Clarissa gave a small, patient sigh, shifting the papers in her arms. ¡°It¡¯s part of the Ministry of Transport¡¯s new safety protocols. Apparently, improper tire maintenance has caused a rise in accidents across the empire. They want new standards for treads, durability, and seasonal performance.¡±

    Ries blinked at her. ¡°Seasonal performance? You mean to tell me we¡¯re dictating how often people switch tires now? What¡¯s next? Regulations on shoelaces?¡±

    Clarissa fought back a smile. ¡°Would you prefer if people just slid off icy roads because their tires weren¡¯t up to code?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d prefer they use common sense,¡± Ries grumbled, tossing the paper back onto the pile. ¡°Guess that¡¯s asking too much these days.¡±

    ¡°Bureaucracy tends to fill in where common sense fails.¡±

    ¡°Oh, spare me that talk. You should go home and rest. It¡¯s almost 9pm. Here, I order you, as your superior, to take a break.¡±

    Clarissa arched a brow, her expression half-amused, half-exhausted. ¡°Ordering your subordinates to rest? How very magnanimous of you, Madam Prime Minister.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± Ries said, crossing her arms. ¡°It¡¯s winter holiday, and you¡¯re running around like a pack mule with documents on tires, of all things. Go home, eat something warm, and forget this place exists for a night.¡±

    Clarissa gave a soft chuckle. ¡°If I leave now, who¡¯ll make sure the Transport Ministry doesn¡¯t submit this policy with typos?¡±

    Ries scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. ¡°Let the Transport Ministry choke on their own typos. It¡¯s not like anyone reads these things anyway.¡±

    ¡°You know that¡¯s not true,¡± Clarissa countered with a knowing smile. ¡°And besides, it¡¯s my responsibility.¡±

    ¡°Clarissa, I¡¯m giving you an official order. If this office burns to the ground in your absence, it¡¯ll be my fault¡ªnot yours. So go home.¡±

    Clarissa stood still for a moment, weighing Ries¡¯ words as if they were part of some delicate negotiation. Then, finally, she sighed and shifted the stack of papers under her arm.

    ¡°All right, all right. I¡¯ll take a break. But only because it¡¯s coming from my superior.¡±

    ¡°Good. Be sure to wear your coat. It¡¯ll be freezing out there.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Since when do you worry about things like that?¡±

    Ries shrugged, flicking her tail lazily. ¡°I don¡¯t want you dropping dead and adding more paperwork to my desk. It¡¯s purely selfish.¡±

    Clarissa chuckled, adjusting the papers under her arm. ¡°Duly noted, Madam Prime Minister. I¡¯ll bundle up properly just for you.¡±

    ¡°See that you do.¡± Ries gave a small, approving nod, her feline ears flicking in mild satisfaction. ¡°And Clarissa... Happy holidays.¡±

    Clarissa¡¯s expression softened for a moment. ¡°Happy holidays, Anise.¡±

    ¡°Oh, actually.¡± Ries recalled Clarissa. ¡°Would you like to drink hot coffee with me? I know a good place.¡±

    Clarissa paused mid-step, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. ¡°Coffee? Now?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Just a quick one. I mean, if you don¡¯t have somewhere else to be.¡±

    A small, genuine smile crept across Clarissa¡¯s face. ¡°I suppose I can make time for my superior¡¯s... orders.¡±

    Ries smirked. ¡°Good. And don¡¯t act like you¡¯re doing me a favor.¡± She gestured toward the door. ¡°Come on, the place is still open, and they¡¯ve got these winter drinks that¡¯ll knock you out.¡±

    Clarissa fell in step beside her, the two slipping out of the quiet office into the cold night. Ries pulled her coat tight around herself, her tail flicking behind her as they walked down the empty street.

    ¡°So,¡± Clarissa said with a playful tone, ¡°is this part of your leadership strategy? Hot coffee diplomacy?¡±

    Ries shot her a sideways glance, her ears twitching. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised what a good cup of coffee can solve.¡±

    Clarissa chuckled. ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it, Madam Prime Minister.¡±

    The cold air bit at their faces, but for once, Ries didn¡¯t mind.

    <hr>

    Elsewhere, winter holidays was not so kind.

    The capital of Rozafyr, Starfall, the last bastion of the west, lay in chaos. Snow swirled violently in the bitter wind, mingling with the distant sound of church bells tolling in alarm. Smoke curled into the sky from distant fires, staining the air with dread.

    A week ago, the first reports of a Demon horde had reached the capital. And now, Rozafyr teetered on the edge of collapse. It was not just a city under siege¡ªit was the last sanctuary for the western nobility and clergy. Kings, nobles, and even the Pope had abandoned their homelands, fleeing to Rozafyr in a desperate attempt to preserve what little remained of their power.

    Inside the city walls, evacuation efforts were in full swing. Crowds of civilians jostled through the streets, carrying what belongings they could manage. Soldiers barked orders, trying to maintain some semblance of order amidst the growing panic. Mothers clutched children to their chests, and priests whispered hurried prayers over the frightened masses.

    Though the remnants of the human armies had gathered here, the combined forces were a mere shadow of their former strength. Worn, battle-weary soldiers stood guard at the gates, their faces grim with exhaustion. They knew the truth¡ªRozafyr¡¯s defenses would not hold for long.

    A young knight pushed his way through the throng, his face pale beneath his helmet. ¡°Where is Princess Rosa?¡± he demanded of a nearby officer.

    The officer¡¯s voice dripped with bitterness, but also hoarse from all the shouting. ¡°She¡¯s at the Embassy of the Valerian Empire, trying to kowtow to the Imperials, no doubt.¡±

    Inside the embassy, Princess Rosa¡¯s voice echoed through the lavish chamber, cutting through the incense-heavy air like a blade.

    ¡°Do you have any idea what this means?¡± she roared, her fists clenched at her sides. ¡°My father is dying! One of my brothers lies crippled, the other wasting away¡ªand now you tell me that your empire, which swore a religious oath, won¡¯t lift a hand to help?¡±

    The Valerian ambassador, an older man with perfectly groomed hair and an expression as smooth as glass, flinched at the outburst.

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± the ambassador began, his voice calm and measured. ¡°The Empire¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t insult me. Where was the Empire when the demons marched through the border towns? Where were you when they burned our farms and slaughtered civilians?¡± She stepped forward, her presence crackling with rage.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that simple, Your Highness, the current administration¡ª¡±

    ¡°The current administration?! I want this sent to the Empress!¡±

    The ambassador¡¯s polite facade began to crack, but he still held onto his diplomatic tone like a lifeline. ¡°Princess Rosa, I assure you, the Empress has many matters demanding her attention¡ª¡±

    ¡°My people are being slaughtered!¡± Rosa shot back, her voice sharp as a whip. ¡°What more pressing matters could she possibly have? Trade negotiations? Royal galas?¡± She stepped even closer, her emerald eyes blazing with fury. ¡°We are drowning, and you¡¯re handing me a stone instead of a rope.¡±

    ¡°Princess, let me be clear that we¡¯re committed to send aid. However, our resources are being tied up in the Aquilean war in the Swiring Ocean, and the current administration is currently busy preparing for elections. However, I can warn the Daemons to not invade territories under the protection of the Chaos Dragon¡¯s Archon, Her Majesty the Empress.¡±

    Rosa¡¯s eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with disbelief. ¡°Warn them? You¡¯re going to send a strongly-worded letter to creatures that feast on the living and burn cities to the ground? Do you think they care about borders or your empty threats?¡±

    ¡°Now, calling them man-eaters is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Because that¡¯s what they are!¡± Rosa¡¯s hand slammed down on the polished surface of the table, the echo ringing through the embassy like a gunshot. ¡°That¡¯s not rhetoric¡ªit¡¯s the truth. The facts. The reality you¡¯re too comfortable to face!¡±

    Her breath was ragged with anger, and the room felt heavy with unspoken frustrations¡ªthe kind only the powerless know when pleading with those who hold all the cards. She shot one last withering glance at the ambassador, then spun on her heel, her emerald cloak snapping behind her like a banner.

    ¡°Princess, if you¡ª¡± the ambassador began, but she didn¡¯t give him the courtesy of listening.

    The cold night greeted her like a slap to the face. Snow drifted lazily down, covering the streets of Starfall in an eerie silence that belied the fear pulsing through the city. Soldiers huddled around makeshift fires, refugees shuffled along in ragged lines, and the looming sense of impending doom hung in the air like smoke.

    Rosa barely noticed the chill as she walked down the embassy steps, fury still simmering beneath her skin. The young knight from earlier hurried toward her, his boots crunching on the frost-covered ground.

    ¡°Your Highness!¡± he called, falling into step beside her. ¡°What did the Imperials say?¡±

    Rosa kept her gaze fixed ahead. ¡°Exactly what we expected,¡± she muttered. ¡°They¡¯re not coming.¡±

    The knight¡¯s face twisted in frustration. ¡°Bastards.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re tied up in a war overseas,¡± she added bitterly, her breath visible in the cold air. ¡°And elections. Apparently, voting is more important than thousands of lives.¡±

    The knight let out a low curse, gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. ¡°So, it¡¯s just us then?¡±

    Rosa slowed her pace, the weight of her kingdom¡¯s fate settling heavily on her shoulders. ¡°Yes,¡± she whispered. ¡°It¡¯s just us.¡±

    But even as despair threatened to close in, she straightened her spine. If the world abandoned them, Rozafyr would stand alone.

    <hr>

    The soft hum of conversation and the clink of silverware filled the caf¨¦, a soothing contrast to the chaos outside. Ries slouched against the worn leather seat, nursing her drink. Steam curled lazily from the teacup, and for a brief moment, she let herself enjoy the illusion of peace.

    Across from her, Clarissa tapped a spoon against her cup, her eyes suddenly lighting up with a thought. ¡°Oh, right!¡± she exclaimed, almost knocking over her drink.

    Ries twitched an ear in annoyance. ¡°What now?¡±

    ¡°Remember that pile of documents you asked me to review when you dozed off?¡±

    Ries groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°Clarissa, I told you¡ªno talking about work right now.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I know, but this is important!¡± Clarissa fished around in her purse with a mischievous grin. ¡°You¡¯ll want to see this one.¡±

    Ries¡¯s ears perked involuntarily. ¡°What is it?¡±

    Clarissa pulled out a folded piece of paper and placed it on the table. ¡°It¡¯s a petition signed by six ministers.¡±

    Ries tilted her head. ¡°Six? Which ones?¡±

    ¡°Transport, Home, Military, Foreign Affairs, Agriculture, Finance... and Arcane.¡±

    ¡°All of them? That¡¯s half the ministries.¡± Ries leaned forward. ¡°What does it say?¡±

    Clarissa slid the paper across the table. ¡°I brought it with me, figured you¡¯d want to read it yourself.¡±

    She took the piece of paper. ¡°When was this submitted?¡±

    Clarissa glanced toward the ceiling, thinking. ¡°About a month ago.¡±

 Part XXII: La Belle èŒ…poque

    La Belle ¨¦poque.

    That is the name the Imperatrice of the Daemon realms has proclaimed for this radiant era¡ªa golden age for all Daemonkind. An age where the shadows of chaos and disunity have been cast aside, where the endless bloodshed that once defined their existence is no more.

    Gone are the brutal years of fratricide, when Daemon fought Daemon with no cause beyond survival. Gone, too, are the humiliations of the past¡ªthose dark centuries when humans, emboldened by zeal and greed, hunted them down like beasts, slaughtering entire tribes with impunity.

    Under her leadership, the Daemon race has risen, united beneath a single banner. No longer scattered clans and petty warlords; no longer prey to human ambition. One by one, the old human kingdoms crumbled under the relentless advance of her legions. The grand fortresses that once seemed impregnable were reduced to ashes. Entire dynasties were cast down like broken statues, until even the sacred Holy City, once believed untouchable, fell into the hands of her empire.

    The Imperatrice¡¯s vision of a new order swept away all vestiges of the old world. Archaic institutions, like the Adventurer¡¯s Guild¡ªonce a symbol of unchecked violence masquerading as heroism¡ªwere dismantled.

    ¡°Y¡ªYour Majesty¡­¡±

    Before her knelt yet another trembling nobleman, his voice faltering with fear. Like so many before him, he had come to pledge his fealty, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the marble floor, his entire body quaking under the weight of her presence. The chamber was filled with others, the line stretching far beyond the towering doors, each waiting their turn to kneel.

    The Imperatrice did not even glance at him. With a lazy flick of her wrist, she gestured to her guards, and the man was dragged away like an unwanted trinket¡ªjust another pawn surrendering his title in exchange for the mercy of the new regime.

    Such theatrics bored her. Bread and circuses, she thought with disdain. Displays of loyalty were only a distraction from what truly mattered. She had no time to indulge in these petty rituals when her empire demanded more pressing attention.

    Her dominion had expanded at an astonishing rate, swallowing entire kingdoms and regions almost overnight. Maps were redrawn so rapidly that cartographers could scarcely keep up. Some marveled at her swift conquests, calling them unparalleled in history, while others whispered of folly¡ªthat the Imperatrice¡¯s empire had grown too large, too quickly.

    The human armies that had managed to evade her forces did not vanish but instead scattered into guerrilla cells, forming ragtag militia groups. These remnants, desperate and embittered, waged a vicious insurgency. They haunted the very lands she had promised her Daemon settlers¡ªa green and fertile paradise that was now stained with blood. Roads were unsafe, villages burned in the night, and every farmstead claimed under her banner was another battleground. Even as her armies marched farther west, the Daemon settlers found themselves isolated and besieged.

    The conquest of the western kingdoms was still unfinished. Rozafyr stood defiant as the last beacon of resistance, home to the exiled Papacy and countless other royalty and high nobility who escaped. Their leadership clung to their walls like barnacles to a ship, refusing to surrender even as the tide of Daemon forces crept closer. It was the final kingdom holding out against the new order¡ªan ember that refused to be extinguished.

    By day, the Imperatrice entertained the fa?ade of triumph and mercy as countless nobles desperately swore their fealty in an attempt to cling into power. Those happened in the former seat of the Pope¡ªnow her throne.

    When it was all over, the Imperatrice rose from the throne. Her back ached, and her wings¡ªfolded tightly against her back for hours¡ªthrobbed with a dull, familiar pain. With a low, controlled sigh, she arched her spine, flexing her wings.

    Her elegant robes whispered against the stone steps as she descended the dais, the heavy fabric trailing behind her like a cascade of twilight. Just as her heels clicked against the last step, she was greeted by her most trusted advisor¡ªMarshal Kravan.

    Kravan was unlike the other Daemon warriors who basked in the brutality of conquest. He was sharper, colder¡ªa soldier who understood that war was as much about strategy as bloodshed. Where other Daemons wore black diamond armor forged for intimidation, Kravan¡¯s attire was pragmatic, that is a sleek, modern military uniform, adorned only by insignias that marked his authority.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Kravan gave a curt bow. ¡°The armies of the Valkorian Kingdom and the Borian Tsardom have arrived. They stand ready to fight alongside us.¡±

    ¡°Those humans?¡± she muttered with barely concealed disdain. ¡°How many?¡±

    Kravan straightened. ¡°Combined, they bring two hundred thousand troops.¡±

    The Imperatrice¡¯s frown deepened, irritation crossing her ethereal features. ¡°Two hundred thousand,¡± she repeated slowly. ¡°For two nations with centuries of warfare between them? They bring me this?¡±

    Kravan¡¯s gaze was steady, unflinching in the face of her displeasure. ¡°They¡¯ve bled each other dry with their wars, Majesty. What remains is all they could muster.¡±

    The Imperatrice sighed.

    As per Kravan¡¯s advice, the Daemon nation could not conquer the west alone. Through countless negotiations and precarious concessions, she had forged an alliance with these nations. They were the premier industrialized powers of the west, equipped with weaponry and tactics refined through relentless skirmishes.

    Yet, despite the strategic advantages of this alliance, a gnawing unease settled in her stomach. What truly lies behind their sudden willingness to fight alongside her? she mused. Old rivalries don¡¯t vanish overnight. What do they seek in this newfound camaraderie?

    It was more like an alliance of convenience. For her, she gained two powerful allies. For them, they could recoup their losses from the war fought by each other and avoid a confrontation with the Daemons.

    ¡°Take me to their commanders.¡±

    Kravan gave a sharp nod, saluting. "Right this way, Your Majesty."

    The Imperatrice followed him out of the grand cathedral, the night air cool against her skin. The Holy City lay in ruins, a husk of its former self. Smoke curled from broken rooftops, and the streets¡ªonce bustling with life with proud citizens of Gaia¡¯s chosen¡ªnow lay eerily quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood and the distant murmur of wind through shattered windows.

    None of the Daemon commanders had shown any interest in rebuilding, most were busy finding slaves for themselves, and lash out on any human they found.

    They approached a large camp set up outside the walled city, where rows of tents stood under fluttering colorful flags bearing the emblems of the Valkorian Kingdom and the Borian Tsardom. Torches burned low, casting long, flickering shadows over the gathered troops.

    These were not the trembling, pious defenders of the Holy City. These men¡ªValkorian and Borian alike¡ªwere hardened by the brutal realities of industrial warfare. They were uniformed, carried well-maintained weapons, and despite their fatigue, maintained their discipline.

    The fluttering flags bearing the emblems of the two nations¡ªone stitched with the eagle with the orb and scepter of Valkoria, the other with the iron crown of the Tsardom. Soldiers exchanged hushed words in unfamiliar dialects, glancing her way but keeping their curiosity well-hidden behind rigid discipline.

    ¡°Their commanders await inside,¡± Kravan murmured, gesturing toward the largest tent, its entrance guarded by two stoic officers.

    She swept through the entrance without waiting for acknowledgment, her presence like a cold wind cutting through the tent¡¯s stale warmth. The thick scents of damp canvas, sweat, ink, and stale alcohol clung to the air. At the center stood a heavy wooden table, cluttered with maps¡ªand, to her growing irritation, a half-finished card game.

    The sight of two rival commanders¡ªmen who had once spent decades spilling each other¡¯s blood¡ªnow sitting together, sharing drinks and shuffling cards, was an absurdity that grated against her patience. They glanced up as she entered, but neither seemed particularly hurried in acknowledging her.

    One of them, a broad-shouldered man with graying hair and similar colored coat, slowly pushed himself to his feet. The laziness of the gesture was compounded by the slosh of liquid as he drained the last of his glass. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, giving her a smirk that danced dangerously close to insolence.

    ¡°Borian alcohol is strong as always,¡± the man muttered, setting his glass down with a clink. He gave her a brief nod¡ªno more than a monarch might spare for a favored hunting dog. ¡°Generalfeldmarschall Reitte of the Valkorian Kingdom, Your Majesty.¡±

    The second commander, lounging comfortably in his chair, didn¡¯t bother standing at all. A thick fur-lined coat draped over his shoulders, the iron crown insignia on his cap glinting in the low torchlight.

    ¡°Field Marshal Volkov,¡± he offered smoothly, tilting his head just enough to show acknowledgment, though not deference. ¡°I¡¯d offer a more formal welcome, but it seems you¡¯ve caught us in a rare moment of peace. Cards and vodka do wonders for diplomacy between old enemies.¡±

    The Imperatrice¡¯s golden eyes flicked between them, glinting like molten metal in the dim light. Her gaze swept across the playing cards strewn across the table and the half-empty bottle between them. The irritation bubbling beneath her skin threatened to spill over, but she kept her voice cold and even.

    ¡°This,¡± she said, her words sharp as a blade drawn from its scabbard, ¡°is how you prepare for war?¡±

    Reitte chuckled low in his throat, settling back against his chair with lazy confidence. ¡°War¡¯s nothing new to us, Majesty. We know when to fight¡ªand when to rest. Might as well enjoy the quiet before the storm.¡±

    Her wings shifted behind her with the faintest rustle, a subtle but unmistakable warning. ¡°I didn¡¯t forge this alliance so you could drink and gamble like tavern fools. You stand under my banner now.¡±

    ¡°With respect,¡± Reitte replied, raising one hand as if to forestall her anger, ¡°we¡¯ve fought more wars than you¡¯ve seen winters. Drunk or sober, we¡¯ve never lost a fight worth winning.¡±

    She stepped forward, and the subtle change in distance was enough to shift the atmosphere in the tent entirely. Her presence loomed over the table, suffocating the lightheartedness between the two commanders.

    ¡°That may be so, Generalfeldmarschall, but understand this¡ªyou do not fight for your petty kingdoms anymore. You fight for me. If I find you lacking¡­¡± Her gaze narrowed, like the edge of a knife pressed to their throats. ¡°I¡¯ll make your past wars look like children¡¯s squabbles in comparison.¡±

    Reitte only smiled. ¡°I fight because my monarch commands me. Nothing more, nothing less.¡±

    The Imperatrice¡¯s golden eyes narrowed dangerously, her jaw tightening as she fought to leash her temper. A flicker of rage curled in her chest, but she mastered it. Not here. Not with these fools.

    She straightened, towering over the table as her wings gave an imperceptible twitch, rustling against the tension-filled air. "Why, then, have your kings brought me only two hundred thousand troops¡ªcombined¡ªfrom both your nations?"

    Volkov exhaled slowly through his nose, folding his hands on the table with a deliberate calmness, as if bracing for a blow. "Two centuries of warfare bleed a country dry, Your Majesty. No one wants to fight. Be thankful we stand here at all."

    ¡°Gratitude,¡± she said, the word laced with venom. ¡°You expect me to be thankful for scraps? For soldiers dragged from the ruins of your failed ambitions?¡±

    Reitte leaned back lazily in his chair, a sardonic grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. ¡°Failed ambitions or not, Your Majesty, they¡¯re still better soldiers than most. And when they fall, it won¡¯t be from lack of courage¡ªit¡¯ll be from exhaustion. My men can march and fight, but they can¡¯t conjure food from barren fields, nor bullets from thin air.¡±

    The Imperatrice rolled her eyes. ¡°So? I trust you brought your own supplies.¡±

    ¡°Yes, we brought our own artilleries, though it seems your soldiers isn¡¯t willing to share ammunitions.¡±

    ¡°You need to prove your worth before earning my trust.¡±

    Reitte chuckled, unbothered by the thinly veiled threat. ¡°Trust is overrated, Your Majesty. I¡¯ve found fear works just as well.¡±

    Volkov shot him a sidelong glance but said nothing, his hands still folded on the table as if weighing every word that passed between them. Then, he inclined his head slowly, though his expression remained impassive. ¡°We are here to fight. The rest is your concern.¡±

    The Imperatrice scoffed softly, her wings shifting behind her in a subtle, restless motion, but she let the comment pass without rebuke. Her gaze flicked toward Marshal Kravan.

    Kravan met her look with a nod, then turned to the commanders. ¡°Gentlemen, if you¡¯ll follow me. We have something¡­ important to show you.¡± He gestured toward the tent¡¯s entrance with a flourish.

    Volkov pushed back his chair with deliberate slowness, while Reitte downed the last of his vodka with a smirk before rising to his feet.

    ¡°This better be good, Marshal,¡± Reitte muttered, adjusting his collar. ¡°I hate surprises.¡±

    Kravan¡¯s smile tightened, but he said nothing, holding the tent flap open.

    The Imperatrice swept out first, her wings trailing like the edge of a gathering storm. Reitte and Volkov followed close behind, exchanging wary glances but keeping any further remarks to themselves.

    Outside, the night lay heavy and still, broken only by the faint, flickering glow of torches from the joint Valkorian-Borian encampment. The sounds of distant boots on gravel and murmured orders floated through the air, but even those grew quiet as the commanders followed the two Daemons.

    For a brief moment, both generals exchanged a look¡ªone filled with shared confusion and suspicion. They couldn¡¯t yet discern what the Marshal and the Imperatrice intended to show them, but it became clear soon enough.

    From the dark emerged a behemoth¡ªrolling forward with an ominous clanking sound, its bulk gleaming under the pale torchlight. A massive steel box, fortified with thick armor plates, crawled forward on segmented treads. On either side, colossal cannons swiveled slowly, each large enough to bring down entire fortifications with a single blast.

    Flanking the mechanical monstrosity, the two greater Daemons knelt before the Imperatrice, lowering their horned heads in reverence.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± the Daemons rumbled in unison, their deep voices like rolling thunder.

    Marshal Kravan turned to face the two commanders, his voice measured and deliberate. ¡°Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to the apex of Daemon engineering¡ªthe Landship.¡±

    Reitte took a step closer, resting one hand on the cold, armored surface of the war machine. ¡°A landship?¡± he echoed, the skepticism clear in his voice. ¡°What in the Abyss am I looking at here? A rolling fortress?¡±

    Volkov, still processing the sight, narrowed his gaze. ¡°What does it run on?¡± he asked quietly, not out of curiosity, but caution. ¡°A machine of this size demands fuel¡ªand fuel doesn''t conjure itself.¡±

    Marshal Kravan clasped his hands behind his back and answered smugly. ¡°The Landship runs on something I believe you¡¯re familiar with¡ªblack gold. Oil. Efficient, though it comes with¡­ unique risks.¡±

    Reitte scoffed, brushing a hand along the massive metal hull, feeling the cold bite of the armored surface beneath his fingers. ¡°Oil-fed engines? And what happens when the oil runs dry? Or when it stalls in the middle of enemy fire?¡±

    Kravan¡¯s lips curled into a confident smirk. ¡°That won¡¯t happen. The engineering is flawless¡ªeach Landship has six crewmen: a pilot, gunners, an engineer, and officers to manage operations. It weighs 16 tonnes, rolls smoothly over any terrain, and comes equipped with twin 75mm cannons capable of leveling enemy fortifications. Secondary armaments include two 8mm machine guns for infantry suppression.¡±

    Volkov tilted his head slightly, his calculating mind already dissecting the design. ¡°And the armor?¡±

    Kravan gave a curt nod. ¡°Steel reinforced with mithril plates. Tough enough to shrug off most artillery fire and resistant to magic. It can endure a direct hit from your standard field cannon, though I wouldn¡¯t recommend testing that theory too often.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Reitte and Volkov shared a brief glance with each other. ¡°And how many do you have?¡±

    Kravan smiled.

    <hr>

    Come to think of it, this was Ries'' first time traveling out of the capital as Prime Minister. Her visit was part of a broader effort to strengthen ties between the Empire and its protectorate states, ensuring a seamless integration of their autonomy into the expanding reach of the central government.

    Currently, Ries was in the Queendom of Elvire, an elven protectorate nestled in a forest along the Empire¡¯s western border. The elves clung stubbornly to their ancient ways, as if time itself bent around them. To them, the Empire''s banners planted on their soil were mere decoration¡ªa polite fiction that allowed them to believe they remained untouched by imperial rule. Every movement, every finely chosen word carried the weight of pride and tradition, as if conceding even a scrap of power might cause their centuries-old customs to crumble.

    Their queen, however, was not bound by such illusions.

    Queen Sylviera was older than the Empire itself, old enough to remember its chaotic birth¡ªwhen warlords battled for dominance in a shattered land. She had watched empires rise and fall before, surviving not by resisting the tides of history but by bending with them. It was a subtle but crucial difference. Her wisdom was not rooted in nostalgia but in pragmatism. And unlike her people, she saw clearly where the winds were blowing.

    Ries sat across from Sylviera in the Queendom¡¯s great hall, where shafts of sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, scattering soft colors onto the stone floor. The air carried the faint scent of wildflowers and ancient wood, a reminder of the sacred forest outside¡ªa place as much a part of the Elves as their own blood. Ries adjusted her posture, shifting uncomfortably beneath the sharp gaze of the Queen. Her feline ears flicked under the brim of her hat, a reflex she could not entirely suppress. The Queen¡¯s stare was calm, deliberate, and probing, as if she could strip away every polite pretense and see the raw thoughts hiding beneath.

    ¡°It must be strange for you,¡± Sylviera said at last, her was smooth, almost hypnotizing. ¡°To walk through halls built before your empire took its first breath.¡±

    Ries gave a small shrug, masking her discomfort. ¡°I must say, it¡¯s my first time visiting an Elven settlement.¡±

    The Queen¡¯s lips curled into a sly smile. ¡°Oh? And I must say, it¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve seen a Beastman in such a high position within the Empire.¡±

    Ries resisted the urge to let her tail lash. There was always that undertone¡ªa subtle reminder that, no matter what uniform or title she wore, many would never see her as more than a Beastman.

    ¡°Is that curiosity I detect?¡± Ries asked evenly. ¡°Or skepticism?¡±

    ¡°Neither,¡± Sylviera replied with a faint smirk. ¡°Merely observation. You are an uncommon sight. It makes me wonder¡ªdo they place you at the forefront to demonstrate how progressive they¡¯ve become? As I recall, humans aren¡¯t fond of sharing power with outsiders.¡±

    Ries¡¯s tail twitched, but she forced herself to remain composed. It was a game, and she had learned quickly that in diplomacy, missteps were unforgivable. ¡°I stand here by choice, not by anyone¡¯s design.¡±

    ¡°How noble,¡± the Queen murmured, her words cool but sharp with reproach. ¡°Yet with the passing of the new constitution, you¡¯ve not only stripped away the autonomy of protectorates like mine but absorbed them outright through law. And now your soldiers patrol my city streets under the pretext of defending the border.¡±

    ¡°And for good reason. The west is in chaos, and war has a way of bleeding across borders,¡± Ries replied smoothly. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t want a wave of refugees overrunning your Elven city, now, would you?¡±

    Sylviera¡¯s smile remained¡ªpolite but distant, like a blade hidden beneath silk. ¡°So you say. But the line between protection and control is a thin one. Tell me, Prime Minister¡ªwhen Rozafyr falls, what will stop the Empire from turning that protection into conquest?¡±

    Ries allowed herself a calm, calculated smile. ¡°You think too little of us, Your Majesty. The Empire doesn¡¯t need to conquer what it already governs.¡±

    For the first time, Sylviera fell silent. It was the truth, and they both knew it. Elvire had long been tethered to the Empire, its foreign policy and defense dictated from Valyra. Official annexation was merely a formality¡ªa final stitch to close a wound that had bled slowly for decades.

    The Queen¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°About Rozafyr. I hear the demon hordes have besieged their capital. I want assurances that they will never set foot in my domain.¡±

    ¡°Your forests will remain untouched,¡± Ries replied coolly, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

    Sylviera held Ries¡¯s gaze a moment longer, as if weighing those words with a skepticism she didn¡¯t bother to mask. Then, with a soft, dismissive hmph, she turned her head. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll trust you¡ªfor now.¡±

    The Queen¡¯s emerald eyes drifted over the stained-glass windows, the beams of light filtering through them casting soft patterns across the ancient wood floor. ¡°You said this was your first time in an Elven settlement, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Ries inclined her head slightly, unsure of the Queen¡¯s intent.

    Sylviera smiled¡ªa subtle, unreadable expression that hinted at something between amusement and curiosity. ¡°Then allow me to show you around,¡± she said, her voice lighter now. Without waiting for an answer, the Queen stood gracefully, her long, silver hair catching the light as if it were woven from moonbeams.

    Ries rose as well, her feline ears flicking beneath her hat. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you had much interest in hosting imperial officials.¡±

    Sylviera cast a glance over her shoulder, a faint smirk touching her lips. ¡°Come, Prime Minister. There¡¯s more to Elvire than courtrooms and treaties.¡±

    The doors creaked open, and Ries followed Sylviera out into the open air, the scent of pine and wildflowers growing stronger as they stepped into the heart of the Elven city. Towering trees formed a canopy overhead, their branches thick with greenery that shrouded the settlement in perpetual twilight. Winding paths of stone curved between ancient wooden buildings that seemed to grow out of the forest itself.

    Unlike the capital, where the air was thick with smoke, the atmosphere here was so pure it seemed to carry a weight of its own. Ries felt her tense shoulders ease, the air filling her lungs with a refreshing coolness she hadn¡¯t realized she missed. It took effort to keep her composure. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± she admitted, though her tone remained carefully neutral.

    They continued walking in silence, the soft crunch of their footsteps on the moss-covered path the only sound between them. Elven citizens, draped in elegant robes and adorned with nature¡¯s finery, glanced their way¡ªcurious, puzzled even. A Beastman and an Elf walking side by side was an unusual sight. Some tilted their heads in thought, their brows furrowing, but recognition soon flickered across their faces when they noticed the imperial insignia pinned to Ries¡¯s uniform.

    Still, Ries kept her focus on Sylviera. There was no use fretting over the stares¡ªshe¡¯d learned long ago that she¡¯d always be seen as an outsider, no matter where she went.

    As they rounded a corner, Sylviera¡¯s pace slowed, and when she spoke, her voice was softer, threaded with wistful reflection. ¡°My people think they can stop time if they stand still long enough. That if they hold fast to their traditions, the world beyond the forest will somehow remain distant.¡±

    Ries glanced at the Queen, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. ¡°Is that why you¡¯ve chosen to work with us?¡±

    ¡°Not at first.¡± Sylviera let out a soft chuckle, a sound both weary and amused. ¡°Do you know how many times the Empire tried to conquer us during its early days?¡±

    Ries arched a brow. ¡°I¡¯ve read a few accounts. But history tends to favor the victors.¡±

    ¡°Ofcourse it does,¡± Sylviera replied with a faint smirk. ¡°The records probably describe us as stubborn and isolated, waiting for the inevitable. But the truth is, we fought fiercely. The forest remembers those battles, even if your books do not.¡±

    She paused, her gaze turning distant, lost among the towering trees around them. ¡°At first, they came with swords and shields, with wooden siege towers and cavalry¡ªpredictable tools of conquest.¡± Her tone darkened slightly. ¡°Then came something new. They brought arquebuses, clumsy things at first, and after that, bronze cannons that frankly terrified us at first.¡±

    "Then that turned into rifled muskets," Sylviera continued, her voice taking on a distant, nostalgic quality. "Bayonets fixed at the ends, marching in disciplined lines¡ªprecision over brute force. I remember the first time we saw their improved cannons breach our forest walls, the sound shaking the very roots beneath our feet. The scent of iron and gunpowder replaced the air we cherished. It was clear, even then, that they were learning¡ªadapting."

    She paused, tracing her fingers lightly over the bark of a nearby tree, as if the ancient wood could still whisper tales of those battles. "And with every failed invasion, the Empire returned with something new¡ªsomething more dangerous. Until, at last, they realized the forest could not be taken by force. That was when they brought treaties instead of soldiers. Promises of peace... thinly veiled in parchment."

    Ries listened carefully. "So you fought the Empire every step of the way, only to surrender to paper in the end."

    A bitter smile tugged at Sylviera¡¯s lips. ¡°No, Prime Minister. We never lost.¡± She straightened. "Others fought until there was nothing left of them¡ªonly ruins where their cities once stood, and echoes of customs they could no longer remember. But we¡­ we endured. Not unchanged, perhaps. But we endured."

    ¡°Is that so¡­¡± Ries absorbed the Queen¡¯s words in silence, a faint understanding stirring within her. Survival, it seemed, was not always about winning or standing firm. Sometimes, it meant bending, adapting¡ªweathering the storm without losing what mattered most. But there was a harshness in that truth, too. Survival didn¡¯t come without sacrifice.

    Sylviera¡¯s gaze sharpened, her tone reflective yet edged with admiration. ¡°Humans are... remarkable creatures. They are weaker than most races, both in body and magic. They lack the longevity of Elves, the ingenuity of Dwarves, or the ferocity of Beastmen. They quarrel among themselves, wage wars against their kin, and commit atrocities without hesitation. And yet¡ªdespite all that¡ªthey persist.¡±

    She paused for a moment, letting her words settle, before continuing. ¡°What they lack in strength, they make up for with invention. They took Dwarven machines¡ªgood enough by most standards¡ªand said, ¡®It needs to be faster, more efficient.¡¯ And so came their industrial revolution. They did not wait for innovation to come to them¡ªthey hunted it, improved it, until the world changed to keep pace with their ambitions."

    ¡°What they lack in magic, they bridged through ingenuity¡ªcrafting systems and tools that make magic accessible, even to those born without talent. They found ways to bend power to their will, not through raw skill, but through practicality. For them, magic isn''t a sacred gift¡ªit''s a problem to solve. Even if some in their kin resisted it."

    "And where other races take solace in their long lifespans, humans embrace urgency. They live as if each moment might be their last, and in that fleeting time, they reshape the world with frightening speed. Every victory is built atop a foundation of mistakes they refuse to stop making¡ªbecause they learn from them.¡±

    Sylviera¡¯s gaze drifted, as if seeing distant lands beyond the trees. ¡°Adaptable. That is what they are. They reinvent themselves with every setback. When others gave up on unexplored lands, they found the so-called New World. And they didn¡¯t just find it¡ªthey claimed it, made it their own, and reshaped it to fit their vision.¡±

    She turned back to Ries, her expression thoughtful. ¡°It¡¯s not that they are stronger, smarter, or more gifted. It¡¯s that they refuse to accept their limits. For every weakness they have, they find ten ways to overcome it¡ªif not today, then tomorrow. And they don''t wait for others to teach them how.¡±

    ¡°And you admire them for that?¡±

    The Queen¡¯s smile was faint but sincere. ¡°Admire? No. But I respect it. Underestimating them would be a mistake¡ªone we learned too late.¡± She ran her hand along the bark of a tree, her fingers tracing the ancient ridges as if drawing strength from the past. ¡°They¡¯re dangerous not because they are the strongest, but because they will become what they need to be to survive.¡±

    The two women stood in silence, the forest around them whispering with a breeze that stirred the canopy above. Ries shifted her weight slightly, her feline tail flicking in thought. She wasn¡¯t sure how to respond to that.

    Maybe the Queen''s words were a warning¡ªone not just for her but for her people, too. To resist change was to risk being swept away in the inevitable tide of history, where only those who reached for the future would stand on top.

    ¡°You¡¯d make a great Minister,¡± Ries finally said, her tone dry but with a trace of genuine respect.

    Sylviera¡¯s lips curved into a knowing smirk. ¡°Is that so? I¡¯m flattered, but I¡¯ll have to decline. I still have this domain to manage.¡± Her fingers drifted away from the bark of the tree, as if she was tethering herself once again to her responsibilities.

    Just as those words left her mouth, a loud crash echoed from the direction of the city square. It sounded like wood splintering under force, followed by the distant clamor of startled voices.

    A military officer burst through the treeline, his boots crunching against fallen leaves. He snapped to attention and saluted crisply. ¡°Your Excellencies, the General requests your presence at once!¡±

    Ries narrowed her eyes. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°Madam! There¡¯s a group in the square claiming to be a Hero and his party,¡± the officer reported.

    That caught Ries¡¯s full attention. Saitou¡­ Asumi, Elise... and the others. She remembered the ragtag bunch. A Heroes as ordained by the Western Church. There was also a Palushian among them.

    ¡°Take me to them,¡± she ordered. Then, with a glance toward Sylviera, she added, ¡°Are you coming?¡±

    The Queen gave a small, amused smile, as if the universe¡¯s unpredictability didn¡¯t faze her in the slightest. ¡°Of course. We wouldn¡¯t want to keep your ¡®friends¡¯ waiting, would we?¡±

    Ries rolled her eyes but followed the officer briskly, Sylviera keeping pace beside her. The cool air of the forest gave way to the heat and noise of the city as they neared the square.

    The scene was exactly the kind of chaos Ries had expected. Soldiers stood rigid in a wide circle, weapons ready, surrounding a colorful group at the center of the commotion.

    And there they were¡ªSaitou, who is desperately trying to explain the situation; Asumi, calmly observing as if she wasn¡¯t surrounded by armed guards; Elise Blackwood, already in some poor soldier¡¯s face, barking complaints about ¡®imperial hospitality,¡¯; the feline Beastmen who stood ready with her daggers; Beside her, the Elf stood still¡ªeerily composed¡ªher long fingers brushing the curve of her bow, her sharp eyes watching for the slightest provocation; and that Palushian, standing there unsure of what to do.

    ¡°Stand down, they¡¯re not a threat.¡± Ries waved her hand dismissively.

    The soldiers hesitated for only a moment before lowering their weapons, stepping back with reluctant obedience.

    The instant the tension eased, Saitou shot forward¡ªbut before he could reach her, Elise was already there, throwing herself at Ries and wrapping her in a suffocating hug.

    ¡°Anise!¡± Elise squealed, squeezing tighter than was strictly necessary.

    Ries grimaced, her tail flicking irritably. ¡°Elise, let go¡ª¡±

    Before she could pry the girl off, Saitou skidded to a halt beside them, breathless and wide-eyed. ¡°The Demons!¡± he gasped. ¡°They¡¯re sieging Starfall!¡±

    <hr>

    From what Ries could gather from the Hero''s rambling, the situation was worse than she¡¯d initially thought.

    Starfall, the capital of Rozafyr, had been under siege for nearly two weeks, and the defenders were hanging by a thread. Supplies dwindling, morale shattered¡ªit was only a matter of time before the walls fell. And now, in a desperate bid for salvation, the so-called Hero¡ªalong with his entire party, mind you¡ªhad abandoned the siege entirely.

    Ries couldn''t believe it. They hadn''t stayed to defend the city. They hadn¡¯t fought to hold the line or buy time for reinforcements. No. They had fled the battlefield, crossed the border, and thrown themselves at the mercy of the Empire, begging for help.

    The Hero was now demanding that the Empire deploy the quarter of a million soldiers stationed here¡ªacross the border into Rozafyr territory¡ªto break the siege and drive back the demonic horde. His justification? ¡°Stopping the dark demon horde and save humanity.¡±

    Ries scoffed inwardly. Of course, that wasn¡¯t all. The Hero also included a request for her to personally lead the campaign¡ªbecause apparently, nothing screamed ¡°hope¡± like a Beastwoman-turned-Prime Minister marching into someone else¡¯s war.

    But even if she wanted to, it wasn¡¯t that simple. The Empire was already bogged down fighting a naval war¡ªcommitting troops to another conflict would be reckless at best and disastrous at worst.

    Ries crossed her arms, her tail flicking with agitation as she eyed Saitou and his disheveled party. "So, let me get this straight," she said slowly. "You ran out of the city, left it to burn, and now you expect the Empire to bail you out?"

    Saitou winced. "It¡¯s not like that¡ª"

    "It¡¯s exactly like that," Ries snapped. "You deserted the siege to come here. And now you want me to march an army into Rozafyr? Do you have any idea what you''re asking? Mind you, I¡¯m not a commander."

    The Hero shifted uneasily under her sharp gaze. "I know it¡¯s a lot... but if Starfall falls, the demons¡ª"

    "I know what happens if Starfall falls," Ries interrupted. Her ears twitched in frustration. "But that¡¯s not my call to make. Only the Empress can declare a war¡ªand the Empire doesn¡¯t throw itself into conflicts lightly, especially not with a war already raging at sea."

    Still, she could fulfill the petition made by the six ministers. She could ignore it, of course, it¡¯s her call to do or not to do it. But she found it wise to follow the advice of experts.

    After all, a strong leader surrounds herself with exceptional individuals.

    "I''ll take your request to the Empress," she continued. "But don¡¯t hold your breath. This isn¡¯t some fairy tale where you run to the big kingdom and they swoop in to save the day. If the Empress decides this isn¡¯t our fight, you''re on your own."

    Saitou looked as though he''d aged a decade in that moment, but all he could do was nod. "Thank you¡­ I think."

    Sylviera¡¯s amused voice drifted beside her. "And they say politics is dull."

    Ries shot her a flat look. "Remind me to never become a Prime Minister."

    The Queen chuckled softly. "I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡±

    Before Ries could say more, a voice cut through the commotion.

    ¡°Excuse me.¡±

    Both women turned to see a man approaching from the crowd, dressed in a fine, dark suit. He carried a large rolled parchment, reminiscent of the herald who once announced the death of the former Emperor. But unlike that garish herald, this man wore no ostentatious colors.

    He cleared his throat and unrolled the parchment. ¡°A message from Her Imperial Majesty,¡± he declared.

    Oh no, not again.

    ¡°Her Imperial Majesty mourns the destruction of the Chaos Dragon¡¯s domain, Rozafyr. In accordance with her sacred duty as Apostolic Queen of Rozafyr and defender of the faith, the Empire of Valyra now declares war to protect her righteous sisters in faith.¡±

    The man¡¯s voice grew louder, punctuated by solemn reverence. ¡°God save the Empress!¡±

    The crowd of Elves didn¡¯t know how to respond, some only murmured. Ries exchanged a glance with Sylviera, then looked to the Hero, who was celebrating as if he had already won the war.

    Ries exhaled, a deep sigh of resignation. The Empress, it seemed, was content to pile on more work.

    Without another word, Ries turned to the general.

    ¡°Prepare to cross the border.¡±

    <hr>

    General Eras clenched her fists as she watched her troops make another futile attempt to storm the beleaguered city. From her vantage point atop the encampment hill, she could see the flashes of gunfire and the plumes of smoke rising from the broken walls.

    It had to fall. It must fall.

    For over three weeks, she had thrown everything at that city. Her cannons had pulverized its defenses, her soldiers launched wave after wave of assaults, and shapeshifter infiltration teams slipped through the night. Even her bombers¡ªwinged daemons¡ªhad rained destruction from above. Yet the walls still stood, not just with bricks and mortar, but with the sheer defiance of those damned defenders.

    Her intelligence had told her there were around Forty thousand inside. Not just troops but high-value targets¡ªthe entire Rozafyr royal family, the Pope, and the remnants of the western nobility. The gates were shut tight, the supply lines severed. Surely, by now, they should¡¯ve starved¡ªor broken under fear. But they hadn¡¯t. How?

    Her cannons had blasted gaping holes in the walls, wide enough for entire legions or daemon hordes to pour through. But every attempt to push through was met with machine gun fire that shredded her soldiers before they even reached the breach. Blood pooled in the mud like wine spilled from a shattered goblet. Even her elite greater daemons were pinned down, unable to close the distance before being torn apart by bullets.

    General Eras grit her teeth. They should have been broken by now. Every tactic she had used¡ªthe relentless assaults, the psychological pressure, even bombing supply caches within the walls¡ªhad failed to collapse their morale.

    Eras spun on her heel, glaring at one of the greater daemons that stood beside her. Its massive frame was draped in jagged black armor, a living monolith of darkness and rage. ¡°Why haven¡¯t they fallen yet?!¡± she snarled, her fury a knife-edge in her voice. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you charge through the breach?! Bullets graze your armor!¡±

    ¡°We are trying, your excellency. But¡ª¡±

    Eras snapped her wings open with a thunderous clap, launching herself into the air. The daemon¡¯s excuse trailed off, swallowed by the roar of battle below as she ascended, her sharp, predatory eyes cutting through the smoke and chaos like twin daggers. The acrid scent of fire and blood filled the air, mingling with the ear-piercing shrieks of her fliers as they swept over the city, each clutching crude bombs ready to unleash ruin.

    From this vantage point, the full scope of the carnage unfolded beneath her, waves of soldiers throwing themselves against the walls, only to be shredded by gunfire. The broken battlements yawned open in jagged breaches, wide enough to funnel an army through¡ªbut each attempt to storm them ended the same way. Heavy machine guns hammered out merciless bursts of fire, cutting down attackers before they could take a step inside.

    Eras beat her wings harder, climbing higher. The city below glimmered with flickering fires from earlier bombardments, but for every building her forces destroyed, another barricade sprang up in its place. The defenders were relentless¡ªscurrying through ruined streets like vermin, patching walls and rearming machine gun nests with maddening speed.

    Then, she saw it. Or rather, them.

    Airships.

    At first, they were faint outlines¡ªmassive silhouettes emerging from the clouds. The droning hum of their engines grew louder, sending a chill racing through Eras¡¯ veins. There had been no mention of airships in any of the intelligence reports.

    The Western Kingdoms couldn¡¯t have fielded these on their own. Airships were luxuries¡ªtoo expensive to maintain, too difficult to field regularly in battle. That left only one possibility.

    The Empire.

 Part XXIII: Maneuver Warfare

    Alto Jachs, the general-turned-Minister of Defense, stood at the head of a rectangular table, surrounded by officers of the General Staff. Spread across the table was a sprawling, meticulously detailed map of Rozafyr, marked with troop positions and lines of suspected enemy movement. Colored markers denoted strategic points¡ªsome secure, others dangerously contested¡ªand thin arrows swept across the map like serpents, indicating shifting fronts and potential threats.

    After hours of methodical planning, poring over reports and maps, the general staff have reached a consensus, they would have to draw Eras¡¯ forces into a battle and earn a decisive victory there. It would, in theory, destroy the daemon army and would allow them to retake a large part of Rozafyr back.

    An officer leaned over the table, his finger tapping a cluster of wooden pieces on the map. ¡°Our latest reports place the Daemon forces here, near these hills.¡± He traced the uneven terrain with deliberate hand. ¡°They¡¯ve taken the high ground, and we¡¯ll be fighting them on open plains.¡±

    ¡°Before we make any advance, we¡¯ll soften them up with a full artillery barrage.¡± He swept his hand across the hills, as if the shells were already falling. ¡°Continuous shelling for an entire day or three; high explosives, incendiaries, anything we can throw at them. By the time we¡¯re done, they¡¯ll be too battered and disoriented to organize a proper defense.¡±

    The officer adjusted the wooden markers, repositioning pieces to show the next stage of the assault. ¡°Once the barrage concludes, we¡¯ll launch a coordinated strike.¡± He jabbed his finger at several points on the Daemon line. ¡°Mages will create the opening, using the arcane arts to shatter arcane barriers, disrupt communications, and create chaos in their ranks.¡±

    The officer pressed on. ¡°Once the mages are done, shock trooper detachments will follow immediately behind. They¡¯ll move fast, exploiting any weakness the mages create. Their goal is to smash through the gaps and widen the breach.¡±

    The officer straightened, drawing a breath as he concluded. ¡°Once the breach is secured, the rest of our infantry will pour in. The momentum of the assault should be enough to overwhelm whatever remains of their defenses.¡± He dragged a few pieces across the map to show the final surge as waves of soldiers sweeping through the broken enemy lines. ¡°Speed will be everything. If we give the Daemons even a moment to regroup, the entire offensive could stall.¡±

    He straightened, folding his arms over his chest, and locked eyes with Jachs. ¡°If the Daemons regroup before the breach widens, we¡¯ll get bottled up. And if that happens...¡± His voice dropped, cold and matter-of-fact. ¡°We¡¯ll be throwing men into a meat grinder.¡±

    Jachs smiled as he listened carefully. It was a good plan, clean and calculated. There were risks, of course. If they got bogged down in the breach, the offensive would collapse, and they¡¯d bleed men for nothing. But Jachs knew better. These Daemons had been little more than primitive tribals just a few years ago. Discipline and strategy were foreign concepts to them. A counterattack from such a fractured enemy?

    Highly unlikely.

    And as for their allies¡ªValkoria and Boria¡ªJachs dismissed them with a wave of thought. They wouldn¡¯t arrive in time to change the outcome. By the time those reinforcements crossed the border, the hills would already be strewn with the corpses of their allies.

    "Excellent. We¡¯ll put down these upstarts the west failed to kill," he said smoothly, as if crushing armies were no more troublesome than swatting flies. Then, with a smug grin, he sat down on a nearby chair and looked at the assembled officers. "Golf, anyone?"

    Laughter rippled through the room, the officers chuckling at the absurdity of the suggestion. It was a brief moment of levity, a luxury only men far from the battlefield could afford. For those gathered around the table, the horrors awaiting on the plains outside Starfall were no more than numbers on a chart, obstacles to be solved, not endured.

    But Jachs¡¯ mind was already elsewhere, skipping past the battle as if it were a foregone conclusion. Once the Daemon army lay in ruins, all he had to do was wait¡ªwait until Nay and consortium of war financiers, decided the conflict had squeezed out every last drop of profit. War had become a commodity, and Jachs knew better than anyone how to play the game.

    The campaign against the Aquileans was another matter entirely, but one already well in hand. Their aquatic metropolises had been bombarded daily with depth charges, sending shockwaves through their coral towers and glass domes. Their navy can only utilize hit-and-run tactics and can¡¯t keep up with the empire out-producing them at every field.

    He took a slow drag from his cigarette, the glowing ember briefly illuminating his weathered features. He exhaled a plume of smoke, watching it drift lazily toward the low ceiling before setting the cigarette down on an ashtray already crowded with stubs.

    So long as they don¡¯t suffer any major defeat, they¡¯ll be fine.

    <hr>

    Over the next few days, the now three-hundred-thousand-strong Valerian Army¡ªdubbed the "Expeditionary Forces"¡ªset to work carving trenches and constructing fortifications across the windswept plains.

    These were once known as the Emerald Plains, a vast expanse of lush, green fields where the cool breeze carried the scent of wildflowers, and herds grazed freely under the open sky. The land had been a symbol of tranquility.

    But now, the beauty was gone. In its place, trenches snaked across the landscape like scars ripped into the earth. Tunnels burrowed deep underground, and towering fortifications rose where groves once stood. The emerald hue of the grass and pale snow was trampled under boots and churned into mud by the ceaseless march of soldiers and machinery. The gentle breeze was now laced with the scent of wet earth, sweat, and the distant stench of burning fields.

    For the past few days, Herman had been driving supply trucks to the front lines, hauling crates of rifles, ammunition, rations¡ªand shovels. Always shovels. When he enlisted, he hadn¡¯t expected to find himself so close to a warzone, though, in hindsight, that might¡¯ve been wishful thinking.

    At least logistics kept him out of the direct fighting. A safe assignment, they had told him. His job was simple: keep the supplies flowing. That was the only expectation. The pay was decent, the benefits even better. If¡ªGod forbid¡ªhe died, his family would receive extra welfare. But the thought of that payoff only darkened his mind.

    Because Anna was waiting for him.

    His truck rumbled to a halt as soldiers approached to unload. He let out a quiet breath of relief. Half a day of running the same route back and forth had left his body stiff and aching. The only moments of respite came when the soldiers swarmed the truck to load or unload equipment, giving him a few minutes to stretch or sip water from his flask.

    Just as Herman rested his head back against the seat, a voice called from outside the cab.

    ¡°Catching your breath, old man?¡±

    Herman glanced through the lowered window and saw Mateo, a soldier even younger than him, with a crooked grin plastered across his dirt-smudged face. Mateo had been the first to explain how things worked around here when Herman arrived, guiding him through the unspoken rules of survival at the front. The kid was only twenty-five, barely a man¡ªand a ¡°shock trooper,¡± whatever that was supposed to mean.

    Herman gave a tired chuckle. ¡°If you call this breathing, sure.¡±

    Mateo leaned against the truck, arms crossed over his rifle slung casually across his chest. His uniform was stained with mud and sweat, and a ragged strip of cloth was tied around his arm like some makeshift badge.

    ¡°Must be nice riding around all day while the rest of us get our boots sucked off in the mud and forced to dig,¡± Mateo teased, though his grin took the sting out of the words.

    ¡°Yeah, real nice,¡± Herman muttered, tapping the wheel with a grimace. ¡°Nothing like spending half the day hauling crates of shovels and hardtack.¡±

    Mateo snorted, shifting his rifle to a more comfortable spot across his chest. ¡°Could be worse. You could be one of us poor bastards digging the trenches you¡¯re stocking.¡± He gave Herman a curious glance, cocking an eyebrow. ¡°But I gotta ask¡ªwhat¡¯s a guy in his forties doing enlisting in the army? No offense, but you¡¯re a bit past the age for heroics. Not much promotion in it for you either, I bet.¡±

    Herman huffed out a laugh, though it held no humor. ¡°Promotion? Nah, I ain¡¯t here for medals.¡± He adjusted his seat, feeling the ache in his back from hours behind the wheel. ¡°I needed the money. My daughter got accepted into the Valerian Academy¡ªbright kid, top of her class. But you know how it is¡­ three hundred Golden Virs a term.¡±

    Mateo gave a low whistle. ¡°Three hundred, huh? That¡¯s rough. No wonder only nobles can attend there.¡±

    Herman snorted, rubbing his face with a rough hand. ¡°Yeah, no kidding. That place wasn¡¯t built for folks like us.¡± His fingers drummed absently against the wheel, exhaustion weighing heavy in his bones. Then something caught his eye¡ªan odd group standing on the ridgeline above the trenches. ¡°Hey¡­ who¡¯re those people?¡±

    They were a strange assortment, a mishmash of races: humans, elves¡ªand was that a pair of rabbit ears? Herman vaguely recalled hearing that trait belonged to the Palushian race. A beastman was among them too.

    Mateo glanced over, following Herman¡¯s gaze. ¡°Oh, them? Western Heroes.¡± He said it with a chuckle. ¡°Rumor has it they took down a Daemon Heavenly General¡ªor something close to one. Supposed to be all kinds of powerful.¡±

    ¡°Heroes?¡± Herman leaned forward to get a better look, his brows furrowing.

    The figures stood out starkly against the grim backdrop of mud and ruined earth, like out-of-place actors in some fantastical drama. There was a silver-haired elf with a longbow slung across her back, a young man swaggering with a sword and shield in hand, and a girl dressed as if she¡¯d wandered off from a ballroom, her gown was pristine despite the mud all around. Another wore a western cleric¡¯s robe, clutching an oversized staff that seemed too large for her frame.

    Then there was the beastman girl, her short hair wild and her predatory gaze scanning the horizon like she expected trouble to leap from the shadows. And finally, the Palushian woman, her rabbit ears standing straight.

    ¡°They look like they belong in a storybook, not out here.¡± Herman shook his head.

    Mateo adjusted his rifle strap and shrugged. ¡°Yeah, Heroes from the west. Supposedly, two of them are from another world entirely¡ªsummoned, or so the rumors say. They¡¯re not military, but they represent the western church and some exiled kingdoms. Command¡¯s been tight-lipped about what they¡¯re really doing here.¡±

    Herman scoffed. ¡°Heroes, huh? Never thought I¡¯d see real ones.¡±

    Mateo smirked. ¡°That¡¯s what they call anyone good at killing nowadays.¡±

    Before Herman could respond, an officer barked orders from across the trench. ¡°Driver! Get back to Starfall! We need more equipment on the next convoy¡ªmove it!¡±

    Herman sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess that¡¯s my cue." He shifted the truck into gear, the engine sputtering to life. "Be safe out there, Mateo. You¡¯re a fine man."

    Mateo leaned away from the truck, giving a half-hearted salute with two fingers. ¡°We¡¯ll see about that.¡±

    As the truck rumbled away and Mateo left. There was another conversation going on between the heroes.

    ¡°Can we please leave this place? It¡¯s dirty, and¡ªugh¡ªyucky!¡± Elise whined, fanning her mud-smeared gown as if waving at the stains might make them vanish. She huffed dramatically, her expression twisted in disgust.

    Saitou barely acknowledged her, his gaze locked on the soldiers digging tirelessly in the mud. The scene felt surreal, like walking into the pages of a history book. It was as if someone had plucked him from the modern world and dropped him into the trenches of the First World War¡ªbut with magic, strange creatures, and sigils carved into barricades. And yet, despite these differences, the war¡¯s harsh reality felt all too familiar.

    He was jarred from his thoughts by Carla¡¯s exasperated voice. ¡°We were coming to a battlefield, Elise, and this is what you decided to wear?¡±

    ¡°Well, excuse me! It¡¯s not like you understand fashion, Carla.¡± Elise sneered, flicking a strand of hair over her shoulder.

    Carla¡¯s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her daggers. ¡°Is there supposed to be a hidden meaning behind that, or are you just being insufferable?¡±

    And just like that, the bickering started again, with Elise puffing herself up while Carla rolled her eyes, fingers twitching as if itching to draw steel.

    Saitou sighed, already tuning them out. They fought like this constantly, and no one ever won.

    A quiet presence appeared beside him, and he turned to see Asumi standing there. She wasn¡¯t like the others, she had been transported into this world alongside him. Her soft, dark hair framed a gentle face, and she held a serene composure despite the chaos around them.

    ¡°What do you think we should do, Saitou-kun?¡± she asked softly.

    Unlike the others, Asumi carried the title of "Saintess." Her abilities were absurdly powerful, bordering on the divine. One of her most remarkable abilities, [Hales¡¯ Grace], created a shimmering barrier that constantly healed and invigorated anyone within it. It was the same ability turned the tide in the battle of Paluushtag.

    Saitou shrugged. ¡°Not much we can do right now, Asumi. Just... get through it, I guess. Same as always.¡±

    ¡°Huh¡­ looks like we¡¯re at a world war looking by these trenches¡­ do you think Mr. Tanaka would¡¯ve loved this?¡±

    ¡°That old man?¡± Saitou chuckled. She was referring to their history teacher. ¡°He would¡¯ve been ecstatic.¡±

    Asumi smiled faintly. ¡°Yeah... He used to go on and on about trench warfare and how it shaped modern history. I bet if he were here, he¡¯d have us writing essays on the ¡®socioeconomic implications of magical warfare¡¯ or something.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯d probably call it a ¡®once-in-a-lifetime learning experience.¡¯¡±

    Asumi¡¯s giggle was soft, almost lost in the hum of soldiers moving around them. ¡°And you¡¯ll get detention if you failed his class.¡±

    For a brief moment, they were back in that tiny classroom¡ªlistening to the droning lectures of Mr. Tanaka while sneaking glances at the clock, praying for the bell to ring. It felt distant, like another lifetime.

    Elwyn, approached them with a serious expression. ¡°Saitou, Asumi... what are our plans moving forward?¡±

    Saitou sighed, snapping out of the nostalgic haze. ¡°Well, technically, we¡¯re representatives of the Church, so I guess we¡¯re not supposed to be on the frontlines.¡±

    When Saitou had first been summoned to this world, told he was a Hero, the thrill had been overwhelming. It was like stepping into one of the countless manga or novels he¡¯d devoured. Magic, swords, and the chance to be someone legendary¡ªno need for the classic ¡®truck accident¡¯ isekai setup. Plus, the bonus? OP abilities from the start. It had seemed like the dream. Who wouldn¡¯t want that?

    At first, everything had been exciting. He had met Elwyn, Carla, Elise, and later Kali¡ªall of them strong, skilled, and admittedly beautiful women. Sure, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that this was dangerously close to a harem setup, but he wasn¡¯t about to complain.

    But that initial rush of adventure had quickly dulled. After killing one Heavenly Demon General, the demons retaliated fiercely, launching a blitz across the western kingdoms. The leisurely life of an adventurer had crumbled, and before he knew it, Saitou was dragged into military service. The West fell soon after, and now he was little more than a glorified symbol of hope for humanity.

    That didn¡¯t mean he was weak¡ªnot by a long shot. But being the "last line of defense" wasn¡¯t quite the heroic, action-packed fantasy he¡¯d envisioned. He and Asumi had been told that it was their duty to slay the Demon Lord, to end the war and save humanity. It sounded noble, but Saitou knew the truth.

    Wars weren¡¯t won by pure heroism, flashy heroics, or powerful individuals. They were won by iron and steel, armies marching in unison, factories to produce weapons of war.

    This was supposed to be a fantasy world, goddamnit!

    Before Saitou could voice his frustration, a nearby howitzer fired with an ear-splitting boom. The sheer force of the blast shook the ground beneath them, causing soldiers to flinch instinctively.

    Elise and Carla immediately stopped their argument, their faces pale from the sheer volume. Kali, however, was visibly shaken. Her rabbit ears folded flat against her head, trembling uncontrollably.

    ¡°By God! Those things are loud!¡± Elise covered her ear.

    Saitou¡¯s chest tightened at the sight. Kali had been through too enough artillery barrages that practically levelled her home. It was like a caveman suddenly being thrown into a nuclear war, primitive instincts overwhelmed by the sheer scale of destruction.

    ¡°By God! Those things are loud!¡± Elise shrieked, pressing her hands over her ears in an exaggerated motion, as if that would block the deafening roar.

    Saitou sighed. Of course, Elise would focus on the inconvenience rather than the fact that shells were flying overhead.

    He glanced at the group. Most of his companions came from the western kingdoms¡ªa world still clinging to knightly ideals and traditions. To them, war was supposed to be fought honorably, with swords and lances on open battlefields. Of course, during the course of the war with the demons, line battles became increasingly common and ¡®modern¡¯ warfare became the norm.

    This new form of warfare was utterly foreign to them. The blast of a shell, the whine of bullets slicing through the air, these were things they hadn¡¯t been prepared for.

    He remembered the first time they¡¯d encountered modern weaponry, not just muskets and bronze cannons. Elwyn had stared in stunned silence, as if she couldn¡¯t comprehend the raw, destructive power. Elise had cried out in frustration, demanding to know how anyone could fight honorably against explosions you couldn¡¯t block or dodge. And Kali... well, artillery had always unsettled her since the battle of Wilten. Carla was the only one who hid her surprise well.

    One by one, more howitzers begin firing, and soon enough, they were firing nonstop.

    Only then did Saitou realize that the battle has already begun.

    <hr>

    Six days into the battle.

    Mateo had grown numb to the incessant thunder of artillery firing overhead. The deafening booms were now just background noise, a monotonous rhythm he could almost ignore. He sat slumped in the narrow confines of the trench, cigarette dangling from his lips, his journal resting on his knee. Dirt rained down every few minutes from the sheer force of nearby howitzers, but Mateo didn¡¯t flinch. He just wiped the dirt off the page and kept writing.

    The howitzers fired without reprieve, twenty-four hours a day. The artillery crews only got ten minutes of rest between shifts, just enough to keep from collapsing. No one complained, though. Complaints didn¡¯t stop shells, and exhaustion was a luxury few could afford.

    Mateo scribbled a few more lines in his journal, squinting through the smoke drifting through the trenches. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure why he had joined the military. At first, he thought it was rebellion, a final act of defiance against his parents, who had tried to force him into the family business. They owned vast estates and enterprises, and he¡¯d been groomed to take over ever since he could walk.

    But he didn¡¯t want to be a businessman.

    He wanted to be a novelist. He wanted to write stories, not balance ledgers. But the military wasn¡¯t exactly the dream career either, it was just a way out. Or so he¡¯d thought.

    Now, sitting in a trench surrounded by mud and snow, he wondered if it had all been a mistake. But even in the chaos, there was something... honest about war. No fake smiles or business meetings. Just survival, stripped down to its rawest form. That was worth writing about, wasn¡¯t it?

    He flicked ash from his cigarette and scratched another sentence onto the page.

    An officer trudged toward him, boots squelching in the mud. ¡°Captain Loris, you are called to the command tent.¡±

    Mateo sighed, snapping the journal shut and tucking it into his coat pocket. It¡¯s time.

    The lull in the fighting wouldn¡¯t last much longer. The real battle was about to begin.

    .

    .

    .

    .

    .

    .

    Mateo crouched at the lip of the trench, peeking over the parapet toward the hill where the daemon forces were entrenched. The enemy¡¯s fortifications stretched across the hilltop like a jagged scar in the snow, bristling with machine guns and shielded by their own trenches. But these weren¡¯t ordinary soldiers¡ªthey were daemons. Stronger, faster, and more savage than any human soldier, with skin tougher than leather and instincts honed for war.

    The plan was simple. Though simple never meant easy.

    Mages would be the first to strike.

    Then came him and his shock troopers.

    Then came everybody else.

    Simple on paper. Deadly in practice.

    Mateo glanced down the trench at his men, scarred veterans and fresh recruits, all wearing the same haunted look in their eyes. They knew the odds. Hell, they¡¯d been living them every day for the past six days.

    It¡¯s quite something when their captain is a twenty-five-year-old from a rich family who joined the military on a whim.

    ¡°Listen up!¡± Mateo called, turning to his men. ¡°We¡¯ve only got one job¡ªhit them hard, hit them fast, and keep moving. If we stop, we die. Stick to your squads, cover each other, and no goddamn heroics.¡±

    The men nodded, their faces hardening. They all knew what was coming, and they were ready, at least, as ready as anyone could be when charging into the jaws of death.

    At the far edge of the trench, mages began their work. Quiet chants turned into guttural syllables that burned the air, weaving ancient magic into reality. Spells this powerful took time, something they didn¡¯t have in combat. That¡¯s why idiot mages stayed in the frontlines. The smart ones found cushy posts behind desks, teaching classes or warding banks. But the fools? The fools came here, and they were the only reason anyone had a fighting chance.

    The lead mage raised his staff high, shouting through the freezing air. ¡°Ready! Fire!¡±

    A searing barrage of fireballs, lightning bolts, and ice shards tore through the air, arcing over the trenches and crashing into the enemy lines. The hilltop erupted into chaos as snow vaporized in blasts of fire, bunkers shattered under crackling arcs of electricity, and daemon machine-gun nests that had survived the earlier artillery were shredded by the onslaught.

    Before the enemy could respond, the mages shifted targets, hunting artillery and arcane nodes bolstering daemon defenses. They weren¡¯t here to fight in the mud. Each mage was worth more than a platoon, and they knew it. They were surgeons with magic, precise and devastating.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    ¡°Move! Move! Move!¡± Mateo roared, vaulting over the trench wall.

    The shock troopers surged forward behind him, feet pounding through the snow, rifles clutched tightly to their chests. A mortar shell screamed overhead, slamming into the ground nearby and showering them with dirt and snow. Mateo didn¡¯t stop. Stopping meant dying.

    The hill seemed impossibly far away, every step a struggle against the biting wind and the heavy weight of his gear.

    The daemons recovered faster than expected. Machine guns barked to life, stitching lines of fire down the hill. Mateo heard the wet thunk of bullets finding flesh¡ªa soldier to his left crumpled with a strangled scream, his blood splattering crimson across the snow. Mateo didn¡¯t look back.

    To his right, a mage unleashed another fireball, streaking across the battlefield and detonating inside a bunker. Mateo dove into a shell crater just as a storm of bullets ripped through the air where he¡¯d been moments before.

    ¡°Captain, we¡¯re pinned!¡± one of his men shouted, huddling beside him in the shallow pit.

    Mateo gritted his teeth and peered over the crater¡¯s edge. The daemon gunners were entrenched just ahead, their black, soulless eyes gleaming with malice as they swept the battlefield with suppressing fire.

    ¡°Not for long,¡± Mateo muttered.

    He yanked a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin with a metallic click, and lobbed it toward the nearest gun nest. It hit with a dull thud, followed by a bone-rattling explosion that turned the nest into a mess of shattered wood, twisted metal, and daemon limbs.

    ¡°Now! Go!¡± Mateo hauled himself out of the crater, slipping on ice but catching his footing.

    His boots hammered the ground as he charged toward the daemon trench, rifle raised. One daemon lunged at him, but Mateo fired three rounds into its chest¡ªcrack, crack, crack¡ªand the beast crumpled into the snow, gurgling on its last breath.

    They hit the enemy trench like a hammer striking an anvil. The shock troopers fought with brutal efficiency, gunning down daemons and tossing grenades into dugouts.

    ¡°Hold the line!¡± Mateo shouted over the din of combat as more of his men flooded into the trenches, firing and reloading in seamless synchronization.

    The daemons fought savagely, but they weren¡¯t invincible. One by one, the shock troopers cleared the trench, forcing the daemons to fall back toward their second line of defenses.

    Mateo took a moment to catch his breath, leaning against the bloodied wall of the trench. His heart pounded in his chest, and every muscle screamed in protest, but they¡¯d done it¡ªthey¡¯d cracked the enemy¡¯s first line.

    ¡°Captain! More of them coming from the ridge!¡± a soldier shouted, pointing toward the summit.

    Mateo barely had time to react before bullets raked the trench. He ducked as the wall beside him exploded in a shower of dirt and stone.

    ¡°We need smoke!¡± Mateo barked. One of the troopers yanked a cylindrical grenade from his belt and pulled the pin, tossing it onto the open ground between them and the ridge. A thick plume of white smoke hissed to life, billowing across the battlefield and masking their advance.

    ¡°Push through! They¡¯ll dig in again if we give them time!¡± Mateo ordered, gesturing toward the hill.

    The shock troopers reloaded on the move, storming out of the trench and into the smoke, rifles at the ready. Mateo led the charge, his heart pounding as he sprinted through the swirling haze. Every sense was on edge¡ªhe could hear the faint click of claws on stone, the guttural growls of daemons waiting just beyond the smoke.

    They burst from the smoke in unison, just as the enemy''s second line came into view. Daemons scrambled to react, but Mateo and his men were already among them.

    ¡°Bayonets! Close the gap!¡± Mateo bellowed, surging forward as the first daemon raised its rifle to fire. His shot was quicker, a sharp crack from his rifle echoed through the smoke, and the daemon dropped with a snarl, black blood misting the air.

    The enemy fired one last frantic volley before the lines collided in brutal melee. Daemons unsheathed jagged swords and curved blades, snarling as they threw themselves at the shock troopers. Mateo¡¯s soldiers answered In kind with steel and fire.

    A daemon lunged at Mateo, its blade arcing toward his throat. He sidestepped, driving his bayonet deep into its ribs and wrenching it free with a sickening crunch. Another daemon rushed him from the left, but a soldier tackled it mid-leap, burying a knife between its shoulder blades.

    ¡°Stay tight! Don¡¯t give them space!¡± Mateo roared, blocking a downward slash with his rifle¡¯s stock. The impact sent a jolt through his arms, but he held firm, smashing the rifle¡¯s butt into the daemon¡¯s jaw. It reeled backward, and Mateo finished it with two quick stabs to the chest.

    The battlefield devolved into chaos¡ªsnow stained red and black, the air thick with smoke, screams, and the clash of steel. A trooper to Mateo¡¯s right was locked in a desperate struggle, fending off a daemon wielding twin blades. Mateo stepped in, firing point-blank into the creature¡¯s skull.

    ¡°Grenades! Clear the trench!¡± a soldier shouted from behind. Mateo nodded, yanked a grenade from his belt, and lobbed it into a dugout where daemons were regrouping. A dull thunk was followed by a deafening BOOM that tore through the enemy¡¯s ranks, sending limbs and shrapnel flying.

    The daemons fought savagely, but the shock troopers were relentless. They drove into the trench like a hammer through glass, using rifle butts, knives, and bayonets to dismantle every line of defense. One daemon swung wildly with a chipped sword, only to be gunned down before it could get within striking distance.

    ¡°Captain! Left flank collapsing!¡± a soldier warned, panting as he reloaded.

    Mateo glanced toward the left trench section. A cluster of daemons had regrouped, pouring gunfire into his men and trying to push them back toward the ridge¡¯s base.

    He gritted his teeth, feeling the pressure mounting with every passing second. The daemons were regrouping faster than he¡¯d hoped, and the shock troopers, already stretched thin, couldn¡¯t hold the line for much longer.

    "Suppressive fire, now!" he shouted, popping out of cover to fire a quick burst. The bullets cracked through the air, hitting a daemon in the chest and sending it sprawling backward.

    His men responded instantly, rifles barking as they sprayed the daemon positions with lead. Several troopers lobbed grenades to disrupt the enemy¡¯s advance, their explosions momentarily halting the daemon momentum. But Mateo knew it wouldn¡¯t last¡ªthe shock troopers were meant to break enemy defenses, not hold them indefinitely.

    ¡°Captain!¡± another soldier shouted, ¡°We¡¯re low on ammo!¡±

    Mateo swore under his breath. Come on, where¡¯s the damn infantry?

    He peeked over the trench edge and saw the daemon cluster digging in, setting up makeshift barriers. The enemy was preparing to turn the momentum against them. If they manage a counterattack, it¡¯s over.

    ¡°Fallback point secured, sir!¡± a trooper to his right called, gesturing toward a shallower trench behind them.

    Suddenly, he felt faint rumbling, as if the ground itself tremored. He didn¡¯t notice it at first, but the rumbling got louder and louder until he and his soldiers couldn¡¯t ignore it.

    ¡°What the hell is that?!¡± Mateo raised his rifle above the trench where the sound is creeping closer.

    Then, he saw it.

    A hulking mass of steel, treading the trenches with two big guns on its side.

    What is this¡­ a landship?!

    Mateo barely had time to duck when the machine roared to life, filling the air with a thunderous cacophony of gunfire and explosions. A BRRRRRRT from its twin machine guns tore through the trench, kicking up geysers of dirt, stone, and bodies. The heavy cannons boomed in unison, belching fire and smoke as shells detonated among the men. The shock wave slammed Mateo against the trench wall, the air knocked from his lungs.

    ¡°What the hell is that thing?!¡± one of his soldiers screamed, his voice barely audible over the deafening barrage.

    Mateo gritted his teeth and peeked over the edge again, feeling the earth tremble beneath the relentless advance of the steel monstrosity. It was a beast unlike anything they¡¯d ever encountered, massive treads crushed the mud under its weight, while thick slabs of riveted armor gleamed dully beneath a layer of grime. Black smoke billowed from its exhaust pipes like the breath of some mechanical dragon, and its cannons swiveled slowly, seeking new targets.

    Another blast rocked the trench, sending men flying. ¡°Fall back! FALL BACK!¡± Mateo shouted, yanking a stunned soldier to his feet. They had no answer to this monstrosity. Not with rifles and bayonets.

    The enemy had no intention of waiting. Through the thinning smoke, daemon soldiers poured forward behind the tank, using it as cover. They were quick and ruthless, closing the distance with terrifying speed.

    ¡°Suppressive fire! Keep them off us!¡± Mateo ordered, firing his rifle wildly into the advancing daemons. His men rallied behind him, rifles cracking in quick succession. But for every daemon they cut down, two more seemed to appear, returning fire in kind. The enemy¡¯s momentum was building, and if the landship reached their position, it would crush them and their hopes of holding the ridge.

    ¡°We need to move!¡± Mateo shouted over the gunfire. ¡°Pull back to the fallback trench NOW!¡±

    His men scrambled out of the first trench, sprinting toward the shallower line behind them. Machine-gun fire from the landship raked across the ground, mowing down the slower soldiers as they ran.

    Mateo reached the fallback trench and threw himself over the edge, landing hard in the mud. His men followed, panting and bloodied, but alive¡ªfor now.

    ¡°Captain! This can¡¯t hold! That thing will roll right over us!¡± a soldier shouted, fumbling to reload his rifle with shaking hands.

    ¡°Where the hell is the infantry?!¡± Mateo snapped.

    ¡°Sir! Look, they¡¯re pinned at the trench!¡± The soldier pointed toward their original position, now overrun by daemon soldiers and multiple similar landships grinding forward like steel leviathans.

    ¡°Damnit!¡± Mateo cursed. ¡°Did they attack from the flank?!¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s true, we¡¯ll get encircled!¡±

    Mateo clenched his jaw, assessing the situation with grim determination. The offensive had already failed. The mages had struck hard, and the shock troopers had fought fiercely, but without infantry support to secure the ground they¡¯d taken, the assault was collapsing. They were cut off, the daemons closing in like wolves circling wounded prey.

    They had one option, retreat down the hill. If they could regroup with the pinned infantry, they might have a chance to push back or at least survive.

    The earth trembled as the landship¡¯s cannon roared to life, the blast shaking the air and sending soldiers diving for cover. A shell exploded nearby, kicking up a cloud of snow and debris that rained down in choking showers.

    ¡°Someone throw some goddamn explosives at it!¡± Mateo barked, wiping dirt from his eyes as the blast left his ears ringing.

    ¡°I¡¯m out!¡± a soldier yelled, patting his empty belt.

    ¡°Me too!¡± shouted another. Supplies were running low, and Mateo cursed the reckless push that had brought them this far with no way to finish the fight.

    The landship lurched forward, gears grinding, its treads churning through snow and mud. Twin machine guns roared, sending arcs of death across the field. Soldiers scrambled, desperately throwing themselves behind anything that could shield them from the hail of bullets. Mateo threw himself against the trench wall.

    Mateo¡¯s thoughts raced. They need explosives, and fast¡ªwithout them, the landship would crush their fallback line beneath its treads like so much wet earth. But they couldn¡¯t just sit here waiting to die.

    As the machine guns on the landship reloaded, he peeked up from the trench, trying to find something, anything, that could destroy that monstrous construct. Then, through the smoke and chaos, he saw it¡ªa glint of hope in the form of a shattered crate half-buried in the mud.

    Looks like the daemons have been stockpiling grenades of their own.

    ¡°Demolitions! There!¡± Mateo pointed toward the broken crate just thirty meters away, where sticks of dynamite spilled out like forgotten treasure.

    ¡°You! Grab those explosives!¡± Mateo shouted at a nearby soldier, a young recruit with a fresh scar down his cheek.

    The machine gun begin firing again as bullets rked the landscape.

    ¡°Me?!¡±

    ¡°Yes, you! Get moving or we¡¯re all dead!¡± Mateo barked, slapping the soldier on the back. The recruit didn¡¯t hesitate any further¡ªhe sprang from the trench and sprinted through the snow as gunfire snapped all around him.

    ¡°Cover him!¡± Mateo ordered, raising his rifle and firing bursts toward the daemon soldiers using the landship as cover. His men followed suit, unleashing a volley of suppressive fire. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough to keep the daemons from gunning down the runner outright.

    The recruit bolted through the snow, his boots slipping as bullets chewed the earth around him. Gunfire cracked in his ears, but he kept his head low and arms pumping, determined not to die halfway there. A stray round whizzed past his head, close enough for him to feel the rush of air.

    ¡°Move, kid! MOVE!¡± Mateo roared from behind, firing rapidly to keep the daemons pinned. His rifle kicked against his shoulder with every shot, the sharp clink of spent casings mixing with the chaos of the battle.

    The recruit skidded to a halt beside the broken crate, panting, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Grenades, dynamite¡ªwhatever was left. He frantically scooped up several sticks of dynamite, cramming them into his jacket. His hands trembled, but he forced himself to focus. If he fumbled now, they were all dead.

    ¡°Get back here!¡± Mateo shouted.

    Just as the recruit turned, the landship¡¯s cannon fired again. The blast hit just to his left, throwing snow and mud into the air. He was lifted off his feet by the shockwave and slammed into the ground with a bone-rattling thud. For a heartbeat, he lay stunned, gasping for breath, his ears ringing.

    ¡°GET UP!¡± Mateo¡¯s voice cut through the haze like a whip. ¡°You¡¯ve got this! Run, damn it!¡±

    The recruit staggered to his feet, legs wobbling beneath him. He was still alive, and he had the explosives. That was what mattered. Gritting his teeth, he sprinted back toward the trench, bullets nipping at his heels.

    The recruit dove into the trench just as another volley of machine gun fire raked across the battlefield. He landed hard, gasping for breath, but when he looked down at his jacket, the precious sticks of dynamite were still intact.

    ¡°Got it, sir!¡± he wheezed, shoving the explosives toward Mateo.

    ¡°Good work, kid.¡± Mateo patted the recruit¡¯s shoulder, then turned to the rest of his men. ¡°Listen up! I need two volunteers to help me get close to that thing.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re with you, Captain,¡± one of them said grimly, loading the last few rounds into his rifle.

    Mateo nodded. ¡°Alright. The plan¡¯s simple, we¡¯ll loop around and plant the dynamite under the treads. The rest of you, keep their heads down. We don¡¯t need a clean shot, just enough chaos to keep them from noticing us.¡±

    He turned to the young recruit. ¡°You did good. Now stay low and keep those grenades handy.¡±

    The recruit gave a shaky nod, still catching his breath.

    Mateo cut the fuses on the dynamite down to half-length, his hands steady despite the chaos around him. He couldn¡¯t afford to give the enemy time to react once the fuses were lit.

    ¡°Alright, on my mark,¡± Mateo said, stuffing the dynamite into a satchel and slinging it over his shoulder. He took a deep breath. This was it. Make or break.

    They were shock troopers, and they thrive in the explosion.

    ¡°MARK!¡± he shouted.

    The trench erupted in gunfire and grenades. Rifles cracked in frantic bursts, and explosions boomed as Mateo¡¯s men gave everything they had, unleashing chaos to distract the enemy. The din was deafening¡ªjust the way Mateo needed it to be.

    He vaulted over the trench wall, his two volunteers hot on his heels. They sprinted low through the smoke and snow, shadows among the cacophony of war. The enemy''s attention stayed locked on the trench, exactly as planned.

    "Keep moving!" Mateo urged, heart hammering in his chest.

    The landship groaned like a beast awakening, gears grinding as it struggled forward, crushing debris and bodies beneath its massive treads. Its twin machine guns rotated, sweeping the battlefield, but they weren¡¯t fast enough to catch Mateo and his men as they slipped through the fog of war.

    "Left flank!" Mateo whispered to the others, veering toward the side of the steel behemoth. The smoke and churned mud provided cover, though every step closer made the roar of its engine more oppressive, a grinding, throaty rumble that vibrated through the ground.

    One wrong step. One stray sound, and they''d be crushed beneath the treads or cut to ribbons by daemon infantry.

    They pressed on.

    ¡°Here!¡± one of the volunteers hissed, dropping to his knees beside the gargantuan tread. Mateo joined him, yanking the satchel open and pulling out the dynamite sticks quickly.

    "Fuse is live in five," Mateo muttered, striking a match. The sulfurous scent stung his nose as the fuses hissed to life, cut short to ensure they detonated quickly.

    He shoved the dynamite into the gaps of the giant tread assembly, packing them deep enough to do catastrophic damage. This monster would never move again.

    Then he slapped the satchel shut. "Move!"

    They broke into a sprint, boots pounding against the snow-covered mud. Behind them, the sizzling fuses burned faster than their pounding hearts.

    They had seconds.

    "RUN, RUN, RUN!" one volunteer shouted as the landship¡¯s turret began to swivel, sensing the movement too late.

    They dove into a nearby trench just as the dynamite ignited.

    BOOOOM!!!

    The blast rolled across the battlefield like a thunderclap, shattering the tension as the landship buckled and contorted. The explosion ripped through its hull, sending molten shrapnel flying in jagged arcs. One massive tread snapped free, spinning wildly through the air before slamming into the mud with a ground-shaking crash. Flames erupted from the exposed machinery, belching black smoke that choked the sky.

    The mechanical beast groaned, tilted awkwardly, and then collapsed, its armored bulk sinking halfway into the mud with a heavy, final whump. The roar of its engine sputtered out, leaving only the chaotic noise of battle in its place.

    Mateo acknowledged it with a nod, wiping soot from his face. One monster down, but this fight was far from over.

    ¡°Move! Now, while they¡¯re off-balance!¡± he barked, rallying his men. The daemon soldiers, stunned by the sudden loss of their landship, scrambled to regroup amidst the wreckage. This was their chance.

    ¡°RUN!¡± Mateo shouted.

    They took off at a sprint, boots slipping over the churned earth, dodging broken weapons, shell craters, and bodies. They needed to find new cover¡ªfast.

    Their original trench was lost, swarming with daemons like a nest of angry wasps. Going back there would be suicide. They had to find somewhere else, somewhere defensible, or they¡¯d be slaughtered in the open.

    ¡°Stick together! No one falls behind!¡± Mateo yelled, glancing back to make sure all of his men were with him, everyone climbed out from the trenches and ran with him.

    The recruits, grizzled veterans, and wounded alike pushed forward in grim silence, fueled by instinct and desperation. Gunfire cracked behind them, forcing Mateo to duck as stray bullets whizzed past.

    ¡°There!¡± one soldier shouted, pointing toward an abandoned stretch of trench half-buried under snow and debris. ¡°We can hold there!¡±

    Mateo squinted through the smoke and nodded. Not perfect¡ªbut better than dying in the open.

    ¡°Go, go, go!¡± he ordered, firing a few wild shots over his shoulder to discourage any pursuers.

    The squad stumbled into the ruined trench, panting and covered in mud. They dropped behind the collapsed earthworks, weapons drawn, eyes scanning the battlefield. The trench was a mess¡ªpartially collapsed and littered with the remains of men who hadn¡¯t been as lucky¡ªbut it would have to do.

    ¡°Check ammo!¡± Mateo barked, glancing around at his exhausted soldiers. Some of them still had a few rounds left, others only knives and bayonets.

    The young recruit with the dynamite gasped for air beside Mateo, shaking but alive.

    ¡°You still with me, kid?¡± Mateo asked, slapping him on the back.

    The recruit nodded shakily, gripping his rifle like a lifeline. ¡°Yeah... yeah, sir.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Mateo muttered. ¡°We¡¯re not dead yet.¡±

    ¡°Captain!¡± one of his men called from further down the trench. ¡°We¡¯re out of rifle ammo! Only sidearms left!¡±

    Mateo cursed under his breath. ¡°Shit.¡±

    He glanced toward the enemy positions, they were deep behind enemy lines now, too far to be rescued and too close to death for comfort.

    Retreating downhill was out of the question.

    The open slope would make them easy targets, and the daemons would cut them down before they took ten steps. Even when they¡¯ll reach their original trenches, it had been overrun so why bother?

    He squeezed his eyes shut for half a second, forcing himself to think. Options. They needed options.

    Mateo¡¯s gaze drifted to the right, where the battlefield faded into dense, frost-coated woods. The trees were a jagged wall of black against the smoky sky. It was a long shot, but the forest might offer enough cover to slip past the daemon patrols.

    ¡°Through the woods...¡± Mateo whispered to himself, then made up his mind.

    He turned to his men. ¡°Listen up! We can¡¯t stay here, and the hill¡¯s a death trap. We¡¯re heading into the forest. If we move fast, we might lose them in the trees.¡±

    The soldiers exchanged weary glances, but no one argued. They trusted Mateo¡ªhe was the kind of leader who brought them through hell alive.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Mateo continued, crouching low. ¡°We move in two groups. I¡¯ll take point with three of you. The rest stay close but spread out¡ªif they catch us, we scatter and regroup deeper in the woods. Stay quiet, stay low, and no one plays the hero. Understood?¡±

    ¡°Understood, sir,¡± a burly sergeant replied grimly, clutching his bayonet. The others murmured agreement, adjusting their packs and pistols.

    Mateo turned to the recruit one last time. ¡°Kid, you¡¯ve done good so far. But this isn¡¯t over¡ªstay close, stay quiet. We make it through this, and the first drink¡¯s on me.¡±

    The recruit nodded, swallowing hard but giving Mateo a shaky grin.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Mateo whispered. ¡°On my mark... we move.¡±

    They waited, tense, as the sounds of enemy soldiers grew louder. The heavy clink of boots and shouted orders echoed across the battlefield. Time was running out.

    ¡°Mark!¡± Mateo hissed.

    They vaulted from the trench, hunched low as they sprinted across the frozen ground. Bullets snapped in the distance, but the daemons hadn¡¯t spotted them yet.

    They reached the edge of the forest, and the world seemed to shift¡ªthe trees swallowed them whole, the shadows offering a fragile refuge.

    The forest floor was a mess of roots, ice, and underbrush, but Mateo pushed ahead without hesitation. His breath puffed in clouds, the cold biting at his skin. Behind him, his men followed like shadows, their boots crunching softly through the snow.

    They pushed deeper into the forest, each step taking them further from the chaos of the battlefield. The gunfire faded, muffled by the dense canopy overhead, until only the occasional crack of distant explosions could be heard¡ªmuted, like echoes from another world.

    The ground beneath their boots shifted from jagged roots and frozen mud to softer earth. Snow lay in uneven patches, undisturbed save for the tracks they were leaving behind, a trail that could lead the enemy straight to them if they weren¡¯t careful.

    Mateo slowed, raising a hand to signal the squad to stop. They crouched instinctively, breath ragged but controlled, their weapons still clutched tightly. The air around them was eerily calm, the forest exhaling in low whispers of wind through branches. For a moment, the only sound was the soft rustling of pine needles underfoot. They had escaped the frontlines, but the feeling of danger hadn¡¯t left them.

    Mateo scanned their surroundings with sharp eyes, his instincts on high alert. Too quiet. No birds, no animals¡ªjust silence. An uneasy stillness. The day had become dark, he just realized just now.

    ¡°How far you think we¡¯ve come, Captain?¡± one of the soldiers whispered, wiping frost from his cracked lips.

    ¡°Not far enough,¡± Mateo muttered grimly, shifting his gaze deeper into the woods. They weren¡¯t safe yet.

    ¡°Captain,¡± the recruit¡ªstill catching his breath¡ªnodded toward the tracks they had left in the snow. ¡°They¡¯ll follow us.¡±

    ¡°Not if we make them lose us first.¡±

    He pointed toward a narrow stream, its icy waters trickling quietly through the forest. ¡°We follow the river. Keep to the rocks and avoid leaving tracks in the snow. We¡¯ll move upstream¡ªit¡¯ll slow us down, but it¡¯ll keep them guessing.¡±

    Unfortunately for him, he doesn¡¯t know the layout of these lands. They were in a foreign land, fighting for a foreign country.

    The men exchanged tired glances but nodded. There was no time to rest, not yet.

    They pressed on, moving along the water¡¯s edge in near silence. Mateo¡¯s breath came slow and steady, each step deliberate. The cold gnawed at his bones, but it was better than dying under daemon fire.

    The forest began to shift again as they advanced¡ªthe undergrowth thickened, the trees grew closer together, their branches knitting into a tangled canopy that blocked out the sky. It was darker here, the only light coming from the faint silver gleam of snow and water.

    Then Mateo stopped abruptly, raising his fist. The men froze.

    Something was wrong.

    He crouched low, scanning the treetops and underbrush with narrowed eyes. His fingers rested lightly on the grip of his handgun. The air felt heavier, charged with tension, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

    A low rustle drifted through the trees, faint but deliberate. It wasn¡¯t the wind.

    Mateo¡¯s heart tightened. They weren¡¯t alone.

    ¡°Eyes up,¡± he whispered, his voice barely audible. ¡°Stay close. Move slow.¡±

    His men shifted quietly, weapons raised, their senses sharpened by the growing unease.

    The forest around them seemed to stir, as if some unseen presence had taken notice of their intrusion. Then came a soft snap, a branch breaking underfoot.

    Mateo¡¯s blood ran cold. Not one of ours.

    A shape moved in the shadows ahead¡ªa fleeting figure too large to be a man but too quick to be anything natural. Then it was gone, swallowed by the dark.

    ¡°Captain¡­¡± the recruit¡¯s voice was a shaky whisper. ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°Stay low,¡± he ordered, voice steady. ¡°No sudden moves. Keep moving, but slow.¡±

    The soldiers exchanged nervous glances but obeyed, inching forward through the dense undergrowth. Every crackle of snow underfoot, every brush of a branch, felt like a death sentence. The thing in the forest wasn¡¯t far¡ªit was hunting, and it knew they were here.

    Then¡­ a branch was snapped underfoot.

    The sound of the branch snapping reverberated through the still air, far too close. Mateo¡¯s heart thudded painfully against his ribcage, every instinct screaming danger. His men froze where they stood, breath caught in their throats, hands tightening around weapons that suddenly felt too small against whatever was out there.

    No one moved. Even the forest seemed paralyzed, as if sensing the predator lurking just beyond the veil of shadows.

    Then it came again¡ªa deliberate step, heavy and slow. Another branch cracked. Something was circling them, testing the limits of their fear, like a wolf toying with cornered prey.

    Mateo¡¯s eyes flicked toward the recruit. The kid was trembling, his knuckles white on his rifle. ¡°Easy,¡± Mateo mouthed silently, holding up two fingers to remind him¡ªtwo shots only if necessary. One to aim. One to kill. No mistakes.

    More rustling now, low and deliberate. The thing was close, too close.

    Mateo didn¡¯t know what it was. It wasn¡¯t a man, elf, or daemon. It moved with a purpose, something feral and cunning. It had been tracking them. And it wasn¡¯t going to stop.

    He gestured silently to the others.

    Fan out. No sound. No panic.

    They moved like shadows, spreading slowly through the underbrush, rifles raised. Their eyes darting between every dark corner of the forest.

    Then, it appeared.

    A pale, hunched figure glided between the trunks. Too fluid, too fast. Its sinewy limbs were long and unnatural, bending in places they shouldn¡¯t. Mateo caught a brief glimpse¡ªjoints that twisted backward, and yellowed eyes burning like embers in the blackness. And just as quickly as it appeared, it slipped back into the shadows, melting into the night like smoke.

    Not a daemon. Not a man. Something else.

    ¡°What the hell is that?¡± Mateo muttered under his breath, though no one dared answer. The creature wasn¡¯t just hunting. It was playing with them, savoring the hunt.

    His instincts screamed at him to run, but Mateo squashed the urge. Running was suicide. Soldiers didn¡¯t run, they fight. If this thing wanted prey, it was about to meet a wolf.

    If this thing wanted prey, it was about to get more than it bargained for.

    The underbrush stirred again. Another shape slipped through the shadows¡ªjust as pale, just as quick. Mateo stiffened. There were more of them.

    A flicker to the left. Then another to the right. Multiple shapes weaving between the trees. There wasn¡¯t just one.

    ¡°Shit...¡± one soldier whispered, gripping his bayonet tighter. ¡°There¡¯s more than one of ¡®em, Cap.¡±

    ¡°Eyes open. Keep calm,¡± he whispered, more to himself than the others. His mind raced, searching for options. They needed a way to even the odds, ¡°can anyone cast light magic?¡± He whispered, turning to his men.

    ¡°I¡ª I can¡­¡± The recruit meekly said. Which earned a surprise from him.

    ¡°You can? Then do it!¡±

    The recruit hesitated only for a second, fumbling with his nerves. Then he raised a shaking hand, aimed toward the darkness, and whispered a chant under his breath. Mateo held his breath, praying it would work.

    A burst of brilliant light shot from the recruit¡¯s fingertips, flooding the woods in an instant. The shadows peeled away, exposing the horrors lurking within.

    There they were.

    Thin, gaunt creatures with sickly pale skin stretched tight over their bones. Their limbs were unnaturally long, bending at sharp, grotesque angles. Yellowed eyes gleamed with malice, filled with hunger and cruelty. The light burned them, and they recoiled with shrieks and sharp, animalistic sounds that clawed at the men''s ears.

    ¡°OPEN FIRE!¡± Mateo roared, raising his rifle and squeezing the trigger.

    Gunfire erupted all at once, sharp cracks splitting the cold air. Those with ammunition unleashed everything they had. The muzzle flashes danced in sync with the recruit¡¯s light spell, painting the forest in bursts of chaotic brilliance. Bullets tore through the creatures, ripping through thin flesh and brittle bones. Blood sprayed¡ªblack and steaming in the cold air.

    One of the monsters took a round to the head, its skull snapping back with a wet crunch. It crumpled mid-lunge, a lifeless heap folding into the snow. Another stumbled, half its torso shredded by gunfire, but it clawed forward with sickening determination until a second burst of bullets ended its struggle.

    But the creatures didn¡¯t stop. For every one that fell, another surged forward, shrieking with unnatural fury.

    Mateo¡¯s rifle kicked against his shoulder as he squeezed off another shot. The bullet hit home, striking one of the creatures square in the chest¡ªbut it barely slowed. The thing snarled, spittle flying from its gaping maw, and sprang forward with terrifying speed.

    In that instant, Mateo knew he was dead. The creature¡¯s claws were already reaching for him, and its blackened jaws stretched wide to tear into his throat. He braced for the end¡ª

    ¡ªAnd then someone appeared.

    A blur of motion. A figure materialized between him and the lunging beast with unnatural grace. The woman¡¯s back was to him, but her voice came clear and laced with annoyance.

    ¡°Geez, you guys reaaally know how to mess up someone¡¯s work, don¡¯t ya?¡± she said, a hint of exasperated amusement in her tone.

    Mateo¡¯s breath caught¡ªwho the hell was she? He barely registered her presence before she raised a hand, her movements languid, almost lazy. Dark particles began swirling around her fingers, black mist coiling like smoke drawn to flame.

    The snarling creature let out a high-pitched shriek and skidded to a halt mid-lunge, twisting violently as the dark magic took hold. The black mist seeped into its pale, sinewy flesh, spreading through its veins like ink in water. It thrashed, limbs jerking in unnatural angles, a horrible gurgling sound escaping its throat.

    A gurgling, wet sound escaped its throat, more pitiful than menacing now. Mateo recognized this magic instantly, he¡¯d studied it at the Valerian Academy. Dark magic. Notorious for its difficulty to control and its legal gray area¡ªif not outright forbidden. Few wielded it. Fewer still mastered it.

    The creature gave one last, agonizing shriek before it collapsed, twitching violently in the snow. Its pale body crumbled as the dark magic consumed it, leaving nothing but a blackened husk. And then, that too dissolved into ash, scattered on the cold wind.

    The remaining creatures, sensing the shift, abandoned their hunt. With guttural snarls of panic, they retreated into the forest¡¯s shadows, fleeing with the unnatural speed they¡¯d once used to stalk the soldiers.

    The woman lowered her hand and let out a long sigh, as if dealing with these horrors was just another day¡¯s work.

    "You¡¯re welcome, by the way," she said, turning to face Mateo.

    The very air around her seemed colder¡ªcolder than the snow beneath their boots. She wore a dark green robe, the hood pulled low over her head, concealing much of her face. Yet the parts Mateo could see told him everything. Her hair, as white as untouched snow, spilled loosely from the hood. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, like moonlight on ice. But it was the small, pointed fangs glinting behind her smirk¡ªand the glowing red eyes¡ªthat sent a jolt through Mateo¡¯s mind.

    A vampire.

 Part XXIV: Counting heads

    ¡°¡­That concludes my report, my Imperatrice.¡±

    General Eras, commander of the Daemon armies, kept her head bowed, waiting for a reaction. Kneeling before the Imperatrice¡ªthe ruler of all Daemonkind¡ªshe felt the weight of her silence suffocating.

    The Imperatrice¡¯s expression was cold, unreadable. Eras¡¯s pulse quickened as the seconds dragged on. Had she overlooked something? Was her report lacking? Was the news not what the Imperatrice had wanted to hear?

    Finally, the Imperatrice¡¯s voice sliced through the silence, low and edged with disbelief.

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±

    ¡°P-pardon, Your Grace?¡± Eras stammered, her mind reeling. Had she misjudged something? The Imperatrice¡¯s gaze turned inward, as if considering some hidden flaw in their victory.

    The entire Valerian Imperial army¡ªthree hundred thousand strong¡ªhad been shattered, routed in days. Their victory had been effortless, eerily so. Was this really the military power Valeria had boasted for so long?

    This was the Valeria everyone feared? Could an empire with so many resources be so¡­ vulnerable?

    It was a thought that unnerved even the Imperatrice. Was the infamous Valerian Empire nothing more than a paper tiger?

    The strong and professional standing army of the Empire numbering of around three hundred thousand was defeated just like that, against her army of less-professional and hastily put together army of five hundred thousand.

    The Imperatrice broke her silence, ¡°I expected Valeria to be a worthy challenge¡ªa conquest that would test us, even bloody us.¡± Her gaze bore into Eras with an unyielding intensity. ¡°Tell me, General, is there any explanation for why they crumbled so easily?¡±

    ¡°Your Grace,¡± Eras began, clearing her throat to hide her discomfort, ¡°our allies among the Valkorians and Borians report that the Empire has known no large-scale conflict in over a century. Their commanders have grown overconfident and stagnant. They left numerous gaps in their strategy and, remarkably, they haven¡¯t deployed their famed fleet of airships.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ we have yet to face the full brunt of their strength?¡±

    ¡°No, Your Grace,¡± Eras admitted, nerves tightening as she continued, ¡°but our landships have made devastating headway. The Imperials were ill-prepared, they appeared¡­ terrified, confused by their power and sheer size.¡±

    The Imperatrice¡¯s lips curled into a cruel smile. ¡°Fear¡­ How sweet. But I don¡¯t want them cowering. I want them broken, utterly and completely.¡± Her gaze shifted, hardening with renewed determination. ¡°If Valeria has hidden strengths, they¡¯ll show themselves soon enough. General, I want no illusions of their invincibility to remain among their ranks.¡±

    Eras bowed her head. ¡°It will be done, my Imperatrice. We will draw out whatever resistance remains and crush it.¡±

    The path to Starfall lay open once more. This time, no Valerian force stood to guard it. The road was clear, ripe for conquest. For the Daemon army, the timing was crucial. They were a relentless force, but few knew just how desperately they needed this campaign.

    Unbeknownst to everyone, the Imperatrice¡¯s miraculous unification of the Daemon tribes had come at a cost, one she¡¯d kept carefully hidden. She had promised lands lush with life, so vast that no Daemon need encroach upon another¡¯s domain. Lands rich with the essence of mortal fear, away from the fiery, desolate hellscapes of their homeland. A place where they could settle, feed, and thrive without end.

    Fear, to Daemons, was more than power; it was sustenance. Just as humankind needed air, Daemons depended on the essence of terror that only mortal minds could produce. Their hunger for it was unrelenting, as natural to them as breathing. Since the dawn of time, they had battled amongst themselves, each tribe constantly seeking dominance, each skirmish a chance to taste the fear of the fallen.

    But now, under the Imperatrice¡¯s rule, peace had reigned¡ªpeace that had caused their numbers to swell. Yet as the population grew, so did their hunger. Their taste for fear had outpaced the meager reserves available in their own kind. The Daemon race was starving. With no wars, no mortal terror to sate them, their thirst for conquest had become a question of survival.

    It¡¯s a ticking timebomb. Daemon society was built for one thing and one thing only.

    War.

    Built for endless conflict, it could not sustain itself in peace.

    Without war, Daemon society will falter. In order to keep her hastily industrialized empire keep functioning, the factories churning, and the army growing, she needed an influx of resources, fear, and land to be assimilated into itself, lest it would first slow down, then stall, and eventually collapse in on itself under its sheer bloated weight.

    The race was on, her empire would need to keep expanding until there is none left to conquer. Even going so far as to betray her allies when the time is right.

    There was only one path forward¡ªcomplete unification, a world ruled by Daemons.

    <hr>

    The air felt thick and heavy, more oppressive than the usual chill that crept into the office. Outside, a relentless blizzard swept through the streets, blanketing everything in a shroud of icy white. For the past three days, Ries had been forced to stay overnight, buried in a mountain of administrative work.

    But now, as she sat in her leather chair, she found herself confronted by an unexpected visitor.

    ¡°Minister of Military Affairs, Lord-General Alto Jachs, Baron of Lechdens,¡± she greeted coolly, leaning back as her amber eyes met his. ¡°What brings you here?¡±

    For a moment, Jachs remained silent, his face shadowed with something unreadable. He stepped forward, stopping at her desk, and produced a neatly folded piece of paper, placing it in front of her. Ries eyed it with mild curiosity before unfolding it.

    Eyeing him curiously, Ries took the piece of paper and unfolded it.

    Her brow arched as she took in the title: Battle Report.

    It detailed the recent engagement against the Daemon forces, outlining the General Staff¡¯s strategy¡ªmages, shock troopers, artillery¡ªbut notably, no aircraft. Her eyes scanned down the lines, catching the casualty count, and her pulse slowed.

    Then, she looked at another paragraph.

    127,411 soldiers killed in action.

    11,000 Missing in Action.

    An uneasy silence settled between them, cold as the blizzard outside.

    ¡°I would like to resign,¡± Jachs said suddenly.

    ¡°Like damn you are. How did this happen?¡±

    "We miscalculated," he began, his voice barely a murmur. "Our intelligence suggested the Daemon forces were poorly organized, that their numbers and cohesion would break against the sheer force of our artillery and disciplined ranks. But... they adapted. Faster than we ever anticipated.¡±

    Ries leaned forward, eyes narrowing. ¡°And the aircraft? Why were they grounded? Why don¡¯t we have any airships in the air when our doctrine demands it?¡±

    Jachs exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping. "It was sabotage. Our mechanics discovered evidence of a corrosive agent laced in the fuel reserves¡ª¡±

    ¡°Bullshit. At which airport? I read the reports from time to time, and from my understanding, we don¡¯t even have an airport in range for that battle, nor do we have enough space for any airship.¡±

    Jachs froze, caught off guard, his confidence wavering under her gaze. "I¡­ well, the report¡ª"

    ¡°Enough,¡± Ries cut him off. ¡°If you¡¯re going to offer explanations, at least make them consistent with reality. Air support wasn¡¯t an option, so let¡¯s dispense with the evasions. What went wrong?¡±

    Jachs drew in a slow breath, visibly regrouping as he met her gaze. ¡°The truth, Prime Minister, is that they¡¯ve unveiled a weapon of war our tactics simply weren¡¯t prepared for.¡±

    ¡°Such as?¡±

    ¡°A landship, Madam Prime Minister,¡± Jachs replied, his voice strained. ¡°The likes of which we¡¯ve never encountered before. These behemoths are heavily armored, capable of both offense and defense, and our conventional artillery barely dents their hulls.¡±

    Ries¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°A landship? Are you telling me they¡¯ve developed something akin to a fortress on wheels?¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± he confirmed. ¡°They¡¯re equipped with cannons, multiple turrets, and reinforced to withstand even our heaviest fire. Our forces were overwhelmed before they could adapt. Our strategies simply hadn¡¯t accounted for anything like this.¡±

    Great. Another disaster to juggle. First a defeat, now an entirely new weapon capable of shredding through their lines like paper. Her fingers drummed against the desk as she considered the implications.

    ¡°Can the military replicate it?¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Never mind, you¡¯re fired.¡±

    Jachs froze. ¡°Madam Prime Minister, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Spare me,¡± Ries interjected, leaning back and gesturing toward the door. ¡°Your inability to anticipate this cost lives, and I won¡¯t risk a repeat. You¡¯re dismissed.¡±

    Without waiting for another word, she turned her gaze to her documents, signaling the conversation¡¯s end.

    As Jachs left, his footsteps echoing with resignation, Ries allowed herself a brief sigh, though her mind was already turning back to a far older, more insidious problem. She slid open her desk drawer and retrieved a document, setting it on the desk before her. It was the petition, the one that had set her on this path in the first place.

    The proposal had been clear in its objectives; to fuel the economy through the war industry, channeling resources, manpower, and innovation into the machinery of conflict. In her initial inexperience, she had followed its recommendations, trusting the ministers she handpicked. But now, with disaster after disaster piling onto her shoulders, she was beginning to see the petition¡¯s true nature.

    All this talk of fortifying the economy had been cloaked in patriotic language, but in reality, it was a mechanism to feed the empire¡¯s appetite for money, an economy fueled by blood, not progress. It was a system built to churn, grind, and profit, no matter the toll it took on those caught in the gears.

    And now, that machine was beginning to break, leaving her to pick up the pieces. She drummed her fingers against the desk, after a beat, she picked up the telephone. It rang a few times before the line clicked, and Clarissa¡¯s calm, if surprised, voice answered.

    ¡°Clarissa, get me Lord-Marshal Fountainne and Director Vaspier.¡±

    "Right away, Madam Prime Minister," Clarissa replied, her professionalism slipping just enough to show her surprise at such a late-night request.

    Setting the receiver down, Ries resumed her rhythmic tapping on the desk, the chill in the room nearly lost on her as she thought through the implications. If she was going to pivot the empire¡¯s course, she¡¯ll need to set things straight.

    Minutes later, the telephone rang again, cutting through the quiet. She lifted the receiver to Clarissa¡¯s calm voice.

    ¡°They¡¯re both on their way, Madam. Should I notify anyone else?¡±

    ¡°No, just them. This meeting is off the record,¡± Ries replied.

    As the line disconnected, she straightened in her chair, fixing up her suit. It wasn¡¯t long before she heard the faint sound of footsteps in the hall, the low murmurs of guards stepping aside, and then a firm knock on her office door.

    ¡°Enter,¡± she called.

    The door opened, and in walked Lord-Marshal Fountainne and Director Vaspier, an oddly matched pair in both demeanor and dress. The Lord-Marshal, tall and commanding, wore a full dress uniform with a minimum of medals, his sword swaying at his hip. Beside him, Director Vaspier seemed understated, dressed in a simple black suit accented by a red tie with a distinctive golden zig-zag pattern

    The two men gave a brief bow before seating themselves across from her.

    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± Ries began, her tone cutting through the silence, ¡°it has come to my attention that this Empire is facing yet another crisis. And this one, like the last, threatens the integrity of the Empire once more.¡±

    Both men remained silent, their expressions carefully measured. They were noblemen, experienced politicians, they knew how to gauge a room, and they sensed the gravity in her tone. With a deliberate motion, Ries placed a document in front of them, the petition from the seven ministers.

    ¡°Read this.¡±

    The two leaned forward, their eyes scanning the paper¡¯s contents. Fountainne¡¯s jaw tightened subtly as he read, while Vaspier¡¯s brow furrowed, though his face remained impassive. The petition, though brief, was a masterstroke of manipulation worded to appear like a call for economic rejuvenation but crafted to entrench the empire¡¯s dependency on the war industry.

    It proposed to prolong the war by any means necessary, investments into several sectors, and most notably, putting several industries under state-control under a so-called ¡°Economic Committee¡±, all in the name of ¡°national strength¡± and ¡°preparedness.¡± But the true purpose was evident to anyone willing to see, to funnel resources and power into the hands of a few at the expense of the Empire¡¯s future.

    Vaspier, as if on cue, cleared his throat and asked, ¡°what do you need me to do?¡±

    Ries nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll have to trouble you with another round of purges. I want you to target these specific ministers who signed the petition and have them arrested, at least for now.¡±

    ¡°And the charges?¡±

    ¡°Treason against the crown.¡±

    Vaspier gave a curt nod. ¡°Consider it done.¡±

    Turning to Fountainne, Ries continued, ¡°Meanwhile, Lord-Marshal, I plan to dismiss several military officials whose loyalties seem¡­ compromised. I¡¯ll need you to recommend suitable replacements.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll assemble a list by morning,¡± the Marshal replied as he set down the piece of paper.

    ¡°Good.¡±

    With the practical steps now set in motion, Ries leaned back, though her mind continued to work. Dismissing compromised military officials and purging war-mongering ministers was essential, yet it barely scratched the surface of the political fallout looming before her.

    These purges would open crucial vacancies in her cabinet¡ªFinance, Foreign Affairs, Military Affairs¡ªkey posts that required shrewd, loyal statesmen. But finding qualified allies within a climate ravaged by recent purges was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Eden¡¯s failed coup had already swept the Empire¡¯s nobility, and those who remained were either inexperienced or under intense scrutiny.

    The elections were only months away, and tensions were already at a breaking point. Expectations among the people were soaring, and any delay would almost certainly incite another wave of unrest in the capital. The National Assembly had already been dissolved in anticipation, leaving a power vacuum that would be difficult to manage in the coming weeks. If she miscalculated, this maneuver could backfire, giving the CDLWP and other republican factions fuel to fan anti-royalist sentiment.

    Taking a steadying breath, she assessed her next moves. Her inner circle would need to be airtight, aligned on every point. Reestablishing stability would require allies who could keep order and resist the inevitable political wrangling once the Assembly has been elected and convened.

    Thus, her opening volley must be precise.

    ¡°Lord-Marshal, Director,¡± she began, her gaze sharp. ¡°Do either of you know any experienced statesmen? Someone we can trust?¡±

    The Lord-Marshal shook his head with a faint sigh. ¡°Unfortunately, most of the senior statesmen are either imprisoned or dead. Those left are mainly young nobles¡ªeager, perhaps, but too inexperienced for a crisis of this magnitude.¡±

    Ries sighed. ¡°Figures¡­¡± She drummed her fingers against the polished wood of her desk. ¡°Then, we¡¯ll need to mold what we have into what we need.¡±

    Fountainne looked at her thoughtfully. ¡°The younger nobles could be an advantage. They¡¯ll be more malleable, willing to prove themselves, especially if they see themselves as saviors of the Empire.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Ries¡¯ expression turned thoughtful.

    Though less experienced, the younger generation, with their inexperience, might indeed lack the ideological rigidity of their elders. Potentially malleable, she thought. If guided correctly, they could champion her vision for reform while tempering the influence of her old guard.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll use that angle. Lord-Marshal, I want you to assemble a shortlist of these younger nobles, ones with enough skill or potential to be shaped into capable leaders. They may be untested, but their inexperience might make them adaptable.¡±

    "Prime Minister," Vaspier interjected smoothly, "there is one candidate with experience who might be of use, though she has ties to the late Lord Eden."

    Ries¡¯s eyebrows lifted in interest. "Ties to Eden? Who? His wife?"

    "His daughter, actually," Vaspier clarified, watching her reaction closely. "Lady Rosaline. She¡¯s kept herself far from Imperial politics, which may be why you haven¡¯t heard of her."

    "Lady Rosaline?" Ries began, but Fountainne shifted as if to speak. Before he could, Vaspier continued with a faint smile.

    "An interesting fact, Madam Prime Minister," he said, amusement glinting in his eyes. "The Lord-Marshal¡¯s son once proposed to her but was promptly declined by Lord Eden himself."

    "Really?" Ries turned to Fountainne, a brow raised in intrigue. "Is that true, Lord-Marshal?"

    Fountainne¡¯s expression remained controlled, though a faint flush crept into his cheeks. "Yes, Prime Minister. Though it¡¯s hardly relevant anymore."

    "Relevant or not," Ries smirked, "it seems she¡¯s well-connected. What are her qualifications?"

    ¡°She¡¯s an intellectual at heart,¡± Fountainne replied, arms folding. ¡°And, as far as I know, she was a classmate of the Empress herself. So yes, she¡¯s well-acquainted with both the throne and the aristocracy.¡± His expression shifted slightly. ¡°But therein lies the problem.¡±

    "How so? Being classmates with the Empress is hardly a problem."

    "It¡¯s not the association, per se," Fountainne replied carefully. "It¡¯s that she differs from the Empress and her father¡­ considerably."

    "Different, how?" Ries asked, her curiosity piqued.

    "For one, she¡¯s an open and unrepentant socialist," Fountainne replied, his voice flat.

    <hr>

    At the same time, a different meeting was taking place. A meeting deep within the mountains.

    Azazel had always admired the architecture of the Dwarves. They were brutally utilitarian, and the sparse elements of grandeur, the gleaming veins of rare minerals embedded in the walls, were less decoration and more a testament to their wealth of underground resources, prized not for luxury but for the mark of survival and pride they represented.

    Her mission, bestowed by the Imperatrice, was clear. Destabilize the Empire from within, to weaken it enough that it would pose no threat to Daemon expansion.

    Was she a traitor to her race for her actions? After all, she is still a human of the Church.

    The man before her was known as the King of the Dwarves, though his title had become largely symbolic. For sixty years, the Dwarven kingdom of the Dwarvar Mountains had remained fragmented, torn by the rivalry among three brothers after their father, the last true king, passed. This division was a gift to the Empire, which had easily manipulated the divided clans, each scrambling for power and resources in their isolated strongholds.

    King Dardanell was a formidable dwarf, broad-shouldered and unusually tall. For four decades, he had ruled his secluded stronghold, focusing on local matters while the Dwarvar Mountains remained splintered. His two brothers had claimed much of the remaining land, fracturing what was once a unified kingdom. Each had established his own domain, constantly at odds with the others, leaving no central authority.

    Dardanell¡¯s eyes met Azazel¡¯s, his gaze scrutinized her. ¡°You tread boldly, human. Few from the surface bother with our mountains,¡± he said, his voice gravelly and laced with suspicion. "State your purpose before I decide if this meeting is worth the mountain air you''re breathing."

    Azazel inclined her head respectfully. ¡°My Imperatrice sees potential in these mountains, Your Majesty, and she wishes to see the Empire¡¯s influence removed. She offers you an alliance, one that could restore dwarven unity and strengthen your rule.¡±

    The King let out a harsh laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t need help, least of all from outsiders. The Empire barely touches me. My brothers, though?¡± His laugh faded into a grim smile. "They¡¯re another story.¡±

    Azazel kept her smile, as courteous and genuine as possible. Ah, dwarves and their stubborn pride. Perhaps that was why they had withstood the test of time¡ªalbeit at the cost of their own isolation.

    Isn¡¯t that what makes humanity superior, then? she mused. While dwarves clung to isolation, humans united, bending diverse races and cultures to their will.

    The Empire¡¯s ability to manage this diversity had once amazed even her. But could such an empire survive? An empire built on the remnants of feudalism, could it withstand the rise of nationalism?

    She recalled a passage from a book she¡¯d read upon her first arrival in the Imperial capital: "Tens of races, each with subraces, each with its own culture. Hundreds of religions, practiced openly under the Archonate¡¯s scrutiny. Thousands of nobles, both native and from annexed kingdoms. All bound by a loyalty to the nation, though, in truth, it was the state bureaucracy and the Valerian Crown that held them together."

    She saw this complexity as a weakness, a splintered web of allegiances that she intended to tear wide open.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± she inclined her head once more. ¡°What if I offer you more than just words?¡±

    The King scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. ¡°And what would that be? Gold? Hah! I¡¯ve no shortage of that.¡±

    Azazel kept smiling. ¡°I¡¯ve established contact with other kingdoms who share your predicament under the Empire¡¯s heel. They¡¯re prepared to launch a coordinated insurrection for independence.¡±

    That caught the King¡¯s attention. ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°Indeed. And if you choose to join us, we¡¯ll ensure that you, not your brothers, will reunite these mountains under your banner.¡±

    Dardanell¡¯s defiance softened as he mulled over her words, his fingers drumming on the armrest of his stone throne. He had waited decades for a chance to reclaim his family¡¯s legacy, but the cost of trust was high.

    ¡°And what does your ¡®Imperatrice¡¯ gain from all this, human?¡± His tone held a guarded edge. ¡°What reason would she have for backing Dwarven independence?¡±

    ¡°She seeks to liberate these lands from the Empire¡¯s stranglehold,¡± Azazel replied smoothly. ¡°Not to conquer, but to free. The Imperatrice sees potential here, a future where Dwarves hold their rightful place as masters of their own destiny, no longer fractured by outside hands.¡±

    The room fell silent, the weight of the offer hanging between them as the flickering torchlight cast shadows along the stone walls. After a long pause, Dardanell nodded.

    "Then tell me, human," he said, leaning back with a glint of newfound resolve. "What must I do?"

    .

    .

    .

    .

    .

    Azazel exited the throne room with a faint smile tugging at her lips. Convincing another leader to rebel against the Empire felt almost routine by now. Not that she harbored any illusions of their victory. In the end, it would be their struggle, not hers.

    Now who next?

    Beastmen races, check.

    Elves, check.

    Minor human kingdoms, check.

    Dwarves, done.

    Aquileans, already in motion.

    Isn¡¯t that all of them?

    As she pondered her next steps, a figure appeared by her side¡ªa dwarven guard in appearance, but she knew better. it wasn¡¯t an ordinary guard, nor was it a Dwarf, but one of many Daemon shapeshifters assigned on infiltration.

    ¡°The Imperatrice has marked the tenth of the first month for an offensive. Are preparations complete?¡± he asked in a low voice.

    Azazel barely spared him a glance. ¡°Mhm.¡±

    The infiltrator pressed on. ¡°The High Command is requesting you further destabilize the Empire¡¯s core.¡±

    Azazel let out a small, derisive laugh. ¡°Destabilize it? And how exactly? The last infiltrator they sent barely lasted a day, got herself shot after completing the one exam that allowed her to enter government.¡±

    The shapeshifter was silent for a moment, then added, ¡°Marshal Kravan¡ª¡±

    ¡°Him?¡± Azazel scoffed. ¡°The self-styled military genius? What ridiculous scheme has he come up with now?¡±

    ¡°He¡ª¡±

    ¡°Out of my way,¡± she interrupted, pushing the guard aside. ¡°Let him talk all he wants, but remember, this the Empire is my domain. I decide what happens here¡ªnot him.¡±

    With that, she strode off, her heels echoing against the stone, not bothering to look back. The shapeshifter didn¡¯t attempt to follow. He had his orders, but Azazel¡¯s authority was rarely something he¡ªor anyone else¡ªdared to question. The human seemed to have gained the Imperatrice¡¯s favor, and didn¡¯t dare to anger the Imperatrice.

    <hr>

    "Whoa¡­" Anna''s eyes sparkled as she took in the grandeur of the Valerian Academy''s entrance, a blend of marble and intricate ironwork that radiated an almost regal atmosphere.

    ¡°Now, don¡¯t cause trouble and be a good girl for Mother, alright?¡± Her mother¡¯s voice was soft but filled with pride, though her amazement was evident too. After all, her daughter¡ªher daughter¡ªwas stepping into one of the most prestigious institutions in the Empire.

    The memory of that fateful day came rushing back to her mother¡¯s mind. It had started as a normal afternoon. She was sorting through the usual pile of letters: property tax, social welfare tax, water tax, and then¡­ something that made her pause. Scholarship approved. She had reread it over and over, hardly believing her eyes, until the words finally sank in.

    "Isn''t it amazing, Mother?" Anna whispered, glancing up at her mother, who had managed to pull herself together, though her cheeks still glowed with pride.

    ¡°Yes, it is, Anna. And you deserve it,¡± she replied, squeezing Anna¡¯s hand. The two of them looked around, taking in the sea of students dressed in polished uniforms, bustling parents, and towering, ivy-covered walls of the Academy.

    Anna''s mother couldn¡¯t help but feel a bit out of place among the noble families, her simple dress marking her as an outsider in this world of privilege. But what bothered her more was that Anna was the only child here without a father by her side.

    Curse that war. A pang of anger and worry struck her whenever she thought of her husband on the battlefield. Just wait until he gets back! she thought, half in frustration, half in hope. She was determined to knock some sense into him when he returned. If he returned¡­ She swallowed, quickly pushing the thought away, then took a deep breath and turned her full attention back to her daughter.

    Finally, she let out a sigh. "Just promise me one thing," she said softly.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Anna asked, curious.

    Her mother¡¯s eyes shone with an earnestness Anna hadn¡¯t seen before. ¡°Promise me you¡¯ll make the most of this, no matter what. Study hard, stay strong, and don¡¯t let anyone make you feel like you don¡¯t belong here. Not even for a second.¡±

    Anna smiled, feeling a warmth inside her. ¡°I promise.¡±

    With a final hug, she bid her mother farewell and joined the other new students heading into the grand auditorium hall, where the welcoming ceremony would soon begin. The air inside was charged with excitement and nervous energy as students found their seats, glancing around at the new faces and impressive architecture.

    As Anna settled into her seat, a tall, dignified figure took the podium at the front of the room. Her robes were deep navy, trimmed with silver, and her presence commanded immediate attention. She cleared his throat, and the hall fell silent.

    ¡°Welcome, new students,¡± she began. ¡°Today marks the beginning of your journey at Valerian Academy, a place where curiosity and resilience will shape your future. Here, you will meet those who may become your greatest rivals or your dearest friends. But remember, each of you has earned your place here, regardless of where you came from.¡±

    Anna sat up straighter, absorbing every word. This was it¡ªthe start of something monumental.

    But then she began to notice whisperings around her. Quiet but pointed voices echoed from beside, in front of, and behind her.

    "Isn''t she the daughter of the disgraced nobleman, Henry Eden?" Murmured someone to her left.

    "She''s the rector? Why is she still allowed to keep her position?" Someone else muttered skeptically.

    Anna frowned, glancing around. It seemed as if nearly every student nearby was engrossed in quiet gossip, their eyes narrowed in suspicion or disdain as they watched the woman at the podium.

    Why is everyone so negative about her? Anna wondered.

    A quiet voice nearby caught her attention. ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± someone muttered, sounding exasperated. ¡°Everyone talks like she¡¯s some kind of criminal, but she¡¯s never done anything wrong. People need to get over the past.¡±

    Anna turned, spotting a black-haired girl who appeared lost in thought, her expression tinged with frustration. Intrigued, Anna leaned closer. ¡°Do you know why they¡¯re talking about her like that?¡±

    The girl looked startled, realizing Anna had overheard her. She blushed, casting a sheepish glance in Anna''s direction. ¡°Oh! I didn¡¯t realize you were listening.¡±

    Anna offered a warm smile. ¡°Don¡¯t worry! I was just curious.¡±

    The girl hesitated before answering. ¡°Well¡­ she¡¯s the daughter of Henry Eden, the man who tried to launch a coup in the capital a few months ago. Ever since then, people have been¡­ less than forgiving.¡± She cast another glance at the rector, who stood calm despite the atmosphere.

    ¡°A coup¡­? Oh! So that¡¯s what all the noise was about that night!¡± Anna exclaimed softly.

    The girl looked at her in surprise. ¡°You¡­ heard the coup happening?¡±

    Anna nodded. ¡°Yeah, I live in the capital. I remember hearing some shouting and loud explosion one night, but I had no idea what it was all about.¡±

    The girl¡¯s eyes widened with a mix of envy and amazement. ¡°That must be incredible¡­ Living in the capital, I mean. I¡¯m a noble, but my family¡¯s estate is out in the middle of nowhere. Nothing ever happens there.¡±

    Anna gave her a warm smile, sensing a bit of loneliness behind her words. ¡°Don¡¯t be sad! Hey, we¡¯re here now¡ªand we can be friends, right?¡±

    The girl¡¯s face lit up. ¡°You mean it? I¡¯d like that a lot.¡± She smiled, some of her earlier hesitation melting away. ¡°My name¡¯s Charlotte, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Anna,¡± she replied, extending her hand.

    They shook hands, both smiling as they shared a sense of relief. The intimidating Academy seemed a little less daunting now with a newfound friend by her side.

    As the crowd dispersed from the auditorium, Charlot looked around before turning back to Anna. ¡°So, which dormitory did they assign you to?¡±

    Anna pulled out her paper, glancing at the information. ¡°East Hall, Room 12. What about you?¡±

    Charlotte¡¯s face lit up. ¡°No way! I¡¯m in East Hall too, Room 14. We¡¯re practically neighbors!¡±

    Anna grinned. ¡°Looks like we were meant to be friends after all.¡±

    The two made their way toward East Hall, already talking and laughing as if they¡¯d known each other for ages. They passed a wide corridor overlooking a lush garden, where, across from them, another scene quietly unfolded.

    The hallway was nearly empty, save for a few essential workers preparing the academy for the new semester. It would be the first time some of these workers encountered someone of apparent importance surrounded by guards¡ªguards whose uniforms were unmistakably those of the Royal Guard. It didn¡¯t take long for whispers to ripple through the workers, the visitor was none other than the Prime Minister herself.

    Meanwhile, Ries moved purposefully through the halls of Valerian Academy, her feline ears twitching slightly as she took in the refined surroundings. She had never imagined she would set foot in a place like this¡ªone so bound to tradition, privilege, and the upper echelons of society. For a Beastmen who had spent all of her life in hardship and distrust towards society, the academy felt like a different world entirely.

    With a few respectful nods from academy staff and whispers following her path, she finally reached the tall, intricately carved doors to the rector¡¯s office. Taking a steadying breath, she knocked, awaiting the moment she¡¯d meet Eden¡¯s daughter.

    As the door opened, the rector greeted her with a warm smile. ¡°Prime Minister Katzennia, it¡¯s an honor to welcome you to Valerian Academy.¡±

    Ries nodded, her gaze steady. ¡°Thank you, Ms. Eden. It¡¯s a pleasure to be here.¡±

    ¡°Please, come in. Sit down.¡± The rector gestured toward a sofa.

    Ries took a seat as the rector poured tea, finally sitting down across from her with a polite but assessing look. ¡°Now, I understand there are¡­ expectations,¡± she began, her eyes flickering with curiosity. ¡°You¡¯re considering whether I might have a role beyond the academy. A ministerial one, if I¡¯m not mistaken?¡±

    Ries took a steadying breath. Sitting before her was Rosaline Eden, the esteemed rector of Valerian Academy¡ªremarkably young, around the Empress¡¯s age, and as known for her intellect as for her ideological leanings.

    She met Rosaline¡¯s gaze. ¡°The Empire is in the midst of profound change, and we need individuals with both vision and grounding in reality. Your experience here, shaping young minds at Valerian Academy, has not gone unnoticed.¡±

    Rosaline¡¯s expression shifted, a faint smile playing at her lips. ¡°And you believe I¡¯m suited for a ministerial role¡­ interesting.¡± She stirred her tea thoughtfully. ¡°I must admit, I hadn¡¯t envisioned myself within the Empire¡¯s political structure, especially given our ideological differences.¡±

    ¡°Exactly why I¡¯m here,¡± Ries responded, her tone firm. ¡°The Empress believes¡ªand I agree¡ªthat true progress comes from diversity of thought, not uniform obedience. You¡¯ve worked tirelessly to push boundaries and support reform even within your own circles. You¡¯re more aligned with us than you may think.¡±

    Rosaline raised an eyebrow, amusement gleaming in her eyes. ¡°A socialist Minister in a theocratic empire. Truly a curious proposition. But what specifically are you asking of me, Prime Minister?¡±

    ¡°We need an experienced hand in administration. My last cabinet¡­ they are compromised until further notice.¡±

    Rosaline''s smile widened. "Compromised. Interesting choice of words, Prime Minister. I had thought the Empire preferred loyalty over competence."

    Ries'' expression remained impassive, though her tail twitched slightly. "Competence without loyalty is as dangerous as loyalty without vision. The Empress, however, is intent on balancing both."

    Rosaline took a slow sip, letting the silence linger a beat too long. "And here I thought the Empire preferred uniformity over¡­ ''vision.'' After all, isn¡¯t that why you¡¯re in power, to ensure compliance?"

    Oh great, this again.

    Ries held back a sigh, her expression unchanging. "My race has nothing to do with my position. I¡¯m here because I¡¯m effective, Ms. Eden. The Empress chooses those who can serve the Empire, not just those who conform."

    Rosaline''s smile didn''t falter. "Effective? Interesting. It¡¯s just curious that ¡®effectiveness¡¯ in the Empire seems to coincide with¡­ obedience. A quality I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve had to demonstrate repeatedly."

    Ries'' eyes narrowed slightly. "If the Empire valued blind obedience, I wouldn¡¯t be here discussing potential reforms with you, Rosaline. You think I don¡¯t understand what this position requires? My appointment wasn''t made to satisfy tradition, nor do I need anyone''s approval for it."

    Rosaline leaned back with a smirk, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t need me for ¡®reforms,¡¯ Prime Minister. After all, your royalist constitution is a load of window dressing designed to placate the masses.¡±

    Ries remained impassive. ¡°The constitution, flawed as it may be, is still a step forward. It''s a framework to be built upon, not torn apart on a whim.¡±

    Rosaline chuckled, her voice thick with derision. ¡°Built upon? Do you honestly believe an empire, rooted in centuries of exploitation and hierarchy, can reform itself through bureaucratic amendments and polite discussions?¡± Her gaze bore into Ries. ¡°You, a Beastman, know what that system has done. You¡¯ve seen firsthand how the ¡®progress¡¯ you speak of is a veil stretched over an ancient, decaying structure propped up by force and fear.¡±

    ¡°Force and fear may be how we survive now, but it¡¯s not how we¡¯ll thrive in the future,¡± Ries countered, leaning forward. ¡°The Empress is changing things, and if you refuse to see that, then you¡¯re blinding yourself with ideology.¡±

    Rosaline raised her chin, eyes alight with fervor. ¡°Ideology? My ideology is justice! It¡¯s the belief that every citizen, regardless of birth or race, deserves dignity, agency, and the right to challenge those in power. Not merely to serve as a pawn to be manipulated by a monarch who thinks a few reforms can wash away centuries of oppression.¡±

    ¡°Your ¡®justice¡¯ is an ideal that sounds righteous until it¡¯s used to dismantle everything and leaves chaos in its place. We¡¯re building something real, something that can be sustained.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes. Sustainable. Stable. Peaceful.¡± Rosaline¡¯s voice dripped with sarcasm. ¡°You mean obedient. You mean an Empire that thrives as long as its people comply and bow their heads¡ªan Empire that pretends to embrace diversity while subtly enforcing sameness.¡±

    ¡°Then you misunderstand us entirely,¡± Ries shot back, her voice edged with frustration. ¡°The Empire is trying to embrace change, even if it¡¯s gradual. If you¡¯re unwilling to work within the system, then all your ideas are just talk. What would you actually do, if you had any real power?¡±

    ¡°Exactly what I do now,¡± Rosaline said coldly. ¡°Educate, inspire, and challenge those who believe the world begins and ends with tradition. If that means standing against the Empire to uphold truth, then so be it.¡±

    Ries stood, her patience thinning. ¡°Then you might find yourself alone, Ms. Eden. Principles are noble until they¡¯re worthless. The Empress sees that, and so do I.¡±

    Rosaline¡¯s lips quirked into a challenging smile. ¡°Better to stand alone for truth than to kneel for half-measures, Prime Minister. Remember that as you move forward in your ¡®effective¡¯ little role.¡±

    Ries paused at the door, taking in Rosaline¡¯s self-assured expression with one last glance. ¡°So it¡¯s a no, then?¡± she repeated, tone half-question, half-confirmation.

    Rosaline¡¯s smile was almost triumphant. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll see you in the elections, Prime Minister,¡± she replied, her voice laced with certainty.

    Ries gave a faint nod, biting back the retort forming on her lips. ¡°Elections... right,¡± she murmured. Without another word, she turned on her heel and left, the heavy door closing behind her.

    She strode down the hallway flanked by the Royal Guards, hands clasped behind her back.

    Elections, elections, elections¡­ in a month¡­

    <hr>

    ¡°And to this we say, NO!¡¯

    The crowd roared, and Anya let herself a satisfied smile. The last few weeks the CDLWP had been hard at work campaigning for the elections, and so far, they had the momentum.

    Anya raised her fist, rallying the crowd¡¯s energy. ¡°Our voices have been silenced for too long!¡± she declared, her voice ringing out over the sea of supporters. ¡°The Empire may cling to its traditions, but we are the future! The change this country needs!¡±

    The crowd surged with approval, chants of solidarity echoing through the square. Anya had spent weeks gathering support, going town to town, city to city, alongside the CDLWP, determined to make this the year the people¡¯s voices truly reached the Empire¡¯s highest offices.

    A staffer rushed up behind her on the stage, breathless. ¡°Miss Anya¡­ you need to hear this¡­¡±

    Anya turned, ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°A special broadcast from the Empire.¡±

    Her eyes lit up with an idea. ¡°Perfect! We¡¯ll let the Empire address the people directly.¡± Before her assistant could protest, Anya grabbed the radio, striding back to the center of the stage.

    Anya held up the radio, flashing a confident smile at the crowd. ¡°Citizens! It seems the Empire has decided to address us!¡± She clicked the device on, amplifying the broadcast for everyone to hear.

    ¡°This is a Special Broadcast from Her Excellency, Anise Des Katzennia, Prime Minister of the Empire,¡± the announcer began, his voice dripping with official pomp.

    The crowd fell silent, some leaning closer in curiosity, others scowling at the mention of the Prime Minister.

    ¡°Good morning, good afternoon, and good evening to all citizens, whether in the westernmost reaches of our Empire, the eastern borders, or in our more remote regions. It is my solemn duty and privilege to address you during these turbulent times.¡±

    ¡°These last few days have indeed tested us all,¡± the voice continued, "from the disruption of our sea trade routes due to the ongoing conflict with Aquilea, to the strain of the western war, which has claimed the lives of countless noble men and women. Their sacrifices will not be forgotten, and their duty honored as we face this ongoing challenge together."

    "With great deliberation, I have decided to exercise my authority as Prime Minister to suspend the upcoming general elections. This decision has not been made lightly but stands as a necessary response in order to maintain the security and integrity of our Empire. Until this war has been won¡ªuntil peace and order have returned¡ªour attention must remain undivided.¡±

    The broadcast paused as if to let the weight of the words sink in. Then, with a simple, hollow, ¡°Thank you,¡± the broadcast ended.

    Silence blanketed the square.

    Anya¡¯s mouth was slightly agape, her face pale with shock, words failing her as she absorbed the declaration. Then, murmurs began¡ªa murmur that quickly grew into an angry hum, surging into frustrated shouts and disbelief.

    The shock shattered, replaced by rage, and the crowd erupted.

    ¡°Do you hear the people sing?¡±

 Part XXV: Post-Mortem Analysis

    Orko Vaspier was, by all accounts, an unremarkable man¡ªat least in appearance. As Director of the Imperial Security Directory, he blended into the fabric of high society with a demeanor that was neither boastful nor self-effacing. Unlike many of his peers, Orko held no allegiance to the fiery nationalist and supremacist ideals that surged through the empire. He did not share the conservative inclinations of the aristocracy, nor did he flirt with the ambitions of the reformists. He wasn¡¯t driven by fervent belief or loyalty to any cause.

    Indeed, Orko was the consummate pragmatist, his mind as sharp and calculating as it was coldly indifferent. Results were his only creed. When loyalty served his purpose, he could embody the dutiful servant; when ruthlessness was called for, he could be as merciless as any fanatic. His loyalties shifted only in response to efficiency.

    He served as Deputy Director of the ISD under Elias Veron, and when he was out of the picture, well, there is only one viable successor.

    The ISD now faced unprecedented challenges. The wars with foreign powers had left¡ªno, widened the cracks that was beginning to form in the Empire for so long.

    To most of the nobles, these fractures were trivial inconveniences, easily papered over by their wealth and titles. But Orko knew better. He saw the tremors beneath the surface¡ªthe kind of disturbances that, left unchecked, could shatter the empire¡¯s unity from within. Yet, unlike the idealists or even the pessimists in power, he didn¡¯t see this shift as either a promise or a threat; it was simply a reality, one that he would have to manage and be done for.

    For now, his mission was as simple as it was vital, as ordered by the Prime Minister, stabilize the internal machinery of the empire. This task wasn¡¯t about reforms or grand declarations; it was about rooting out disorder, consolidating control, and ensuring the ISD¡¯s reach extended to every corner of society. He needed to bring order to the chaos brewing within the empire¡ªnot as a reformist, but as a realist.

    He had set out from the ISD headquarters at dawn, braving a blizzard that had only worsened as the day wore on. Now, as he sat in the passenger seat of an armored truck, its steel frame rattling over icy roads, he felt the cold seep through his gloves. Snow whipped past the windshield, a white veil over a gray landscape, as they neared their target.

    The file in his hands was well-thumbed, marked with notes in his meticulous handwriting. At the top, the name The Weeping Angel, a modest tavern just far enough from the city center, long suspected of being more than a place to drown one¡¯s sorrows. Intelligence indicated that this rundown establishment was a hub for CDLWP activity, a place where whispers of dissent festered into plans of resistance.

    ¡°We¡¯re almost there, sir,¡± the driver muttered, peering through the storm.

    Vaspier didn¡¯t look up, just gave a brief nod and continued reading. The reports indicated meetings, hidden messages, and coded conversations¡ªa hive of discontent that needed to be smoked out before it spread further. To the nobles and bureaucrats, these were just murmurs in the dark. But Orko saw them as sparks, each with the potential to ignite into a flame if left unchecked.

    As they approached, the convoy slowed, wheels grinding against the packed snow as they pulled to a stop a few blocks from the tavern. Orko turned to the driver and the two officers in the back.

    As he opened the door and stepped out, so too does the dozens of soldiers orderly stepped into the snow-covered streets and assumed their positions.

    A lieutenant approached him. ¡°Sir,¡± he saluted. ¡°Ready when you are.¡±

    Orko gave the lieutenant a curt nod, eyes scanning over the soldiers who stood, rifles at the ready, bracing against the biting cold. Their breaths formed thick clouds in the air as they moved with silent efficiency, closing in on the tavern¡¯s entrance.

    He didn¡¯t need to give a rousing speech¡ªthese men knew their mission.

    "Positions," Orko ordered quietly, and the soldiers shifted into a tight formation, covering the exits. He motioned to the lieutenant. "Have a team cover the back entrance. We¡¯ll force our way in on my signal."

    The lieutenant nodded, and Orko took one last look at the tavern. Truthfully, with all that is happening the past months, with the death of the late Emperor, Eden¡¯s coup, the wars, the instability, the general attitude of depression shared by a majority of the population¡ªhe was tired.

    With a slight raise of his hand, he gave the signal.

    The soldiers moved like clockwork. A blast from a rifle shattered the lock, and they surged forward, pouring into the tavern like an unstoppable tide. Seconds later, the air was filled with the crack of gunfire and shouts echoing through the dimly lit room.

    Orko stood just outside the threshold, untouched by the chaos within, and calmly pulled a cigarette from his pocket. Shielded from the biting wind by the tavern''s eaves, he lit it, the small flame casting a brief glow over his face. The faint scent of smoke mingled with the icy air as he took a slow drag, letting his gaze drift back to the door.

    The lieutenant appeared, stepping out with a brisk salute. "Sir, we¡¯ve detained the primary suspects and are securing the area. There seems to be secrete rooms under the tavern.¡±

    Orko raised an eyebrow, a faint spark of interest breaking through his usual indifference. "That so?" he murmured, taking a final drag on his cigarette before crushing it under his boot.

    "Yes, sir," the lieutenant replied, his voice steady. "We¡¯ve found hidden access near the back wall. The layout seems¡­ deliberate. We¡¯re assuming there may be weapons stored down there."

    Orko nodded, his gaze narrowing as he considered the possibilities. "Very well. Send a team down, but tell them to proceed with caution. If this place is as fortified as it seems, they might¡¯ve rigged it with traps."

    The lieutenant acknowledged the order, signaling to a few soldiers who quickly moved toward the hidden access point.

    For Orko, meanwhile. This was another job well done, and a job to be repeated over and over again.

    <hr>

    For weeks, Ries had been trapped in a swirling storm of crises. The people were seething with anger, the Empress demanded results, and the war against the Daemons had reached a grinding stalemate. While the military had finally adapted to the Daemons'' unpredictable tactics¡ªturns out all it really took were explosives, lots of explosives¡ªthere loomed a far graver issue at home.

    The Empire itself was fracturing.

    The government was teetering on the brink of collapse. Most ministerial positions remained vacant, and even the process of appointing replacements had ground to a halt. Those who were supposed to step into these roles had been derailed by a crisis far more insidious than the war, internal rebellion.

    ¡°...and along the eastern provinces,¡± droned the new Minister of Home Affairs, his finger tracing across a large, detailed map sprawled over the table, ¡°our protectorate states have risen in rebellion. They''ve detained our governors and seized control of Imperial assets. To the south, the Scorpion Beastmen, among other tribes, have abandoned the Treaty of Cooperation. Raids on villages and trade caravans are escalating. It¡¯s only a matter of time before conflict is unavoidable.¡±

    Ries pinched the bridge of her nose, her feline ears twitching in irritation. The Minister¡¯s monotone delivery did nothing to soften the gravity of his words. The empire was bleeding from a thousand wounds, and her efforts to patch them felt increasingly futile.

    Still, not all was hopeless. Against all odds, Ries had managed to fill the vacant position of Minister of Home Affairs, though the circumstances were far from ideal. The replacement was a young military officer, Lieutenant Haleass, who was far more accustomed to commanding soldiers than managing civil affairs. But beggars couldn¡¯t be choosers, and in this climate, anyone competent¡ªor willing¡ªwas a rare find.

    ¡°Lieutenant Haleass,¡± Ries began, her voice edged with exhaustion, ¡°is there any piece of good news?¡±

    She leaned forward, arms braced against the table, her eyes dulled from the endless sleepless nights. Sleep had become a rare commodity¡ªinterrupted every hour by urgent knocks at her door and fresh crises laid bare in hastily scribbled reports.

    Haleass nodded slightly. ¡°The good news, if it can be called that, is that the rebellion hasn¡¯t spread westward. Yet. For now, the central provinces remain stable, though tensions are rising.¡±

    ¡°Stable,¡± Ries muttered, the word tasting bitter in her mouth. ¡°For how long?¡±

    ¡°That depends,¡± Haleass replied, ¡°on how quickly we address the growing unrest in the capital and ensure communications from the government hasn¡¯t been cut.¡±

    Ries¡¯s tail flicked, betraying her frustration. Everything depended on ¡°how quickly¡± they acted, but the gears of the Imperial bureaucracy turned slowly¡ªeven under the threat of collapse. And with ministerial seats still unfilled, her resources were stretched thinner than ever.

    Bureaucracy¡­ A strange, almost ironic word. It sounded so neat, so orderly. Yet to some, it was nothing but a harsh and grating concept. The very thought of it could evoke frustration, even outright disdain. Who could trust bureaucracy, really? A system of endless forms and regulations, designed to suffocate spontaneity and bog down swift action.

    And yet... bureaucracy was the nerve system of a nation. It connected everything, ensured that orders flowed from the top to the furthest corners of the empire. Without it, the Empire¡¯s dominion would devolve into chaos. It served as the invisible glue holding together a realm this large and diverse¡ªkeeping governors informed, armies supplied, and laws enforced. But like any overburdened system, when cracks formed, the whole structure trembled.

    If anything, the Empire¡¯s bureaucracy is more terrifying than its actual army. Some call Valkoria as the Army with a state, but for the Empire, it was the reverse¡ªBureaucrats with an army. Soldiers could win battles, but clerks, scribes, and administrators won the wars of endurance, feeding the war machine with a steady stream of resources and intelligence.

    It coined the term ¡°ledger warfare¡±¡ªa phrase that encapsulated the Empire¡¯s approach to domination. Wars weren¡¯t won solely on the battlefield but in offices filled with ink-stained hands and ledger books. Every bullet fired, every ration distributed, every road paved was meticulously calculated and accounted for. The Empire¡¯s true power didn¡¯t lie in its legions but in its ability to sustain them indefinitely.

    For centuries, enemies who underestimated this found themselves outmaneuvered not by generals but by bureaucrats. While other nations slowed down from supply shortages or disorganized logistics, the Empire pressed on. Its armies didn¡¯t march without orders, and orders didn¡¯t come without paperwork. Everything, from the number of soldiers¡¯ boots to the weight of their grain shipments, was logged and approved.

    The Empire¡¯s bureaucratic apparatus was colossal, sprawling across every corner of its territories. It cataloged everything¡ªland, people, wealth¡ª with obsessive precision. Every decree was stamped, every shipment tracked, every soldier accounted for in endless ledgers that filled libraries of records. It was said the Empire¡¯s archives could recount the tax contributions of a farmer¡¯s great-grandfather faster than the farmer could plow his fields.

    Indeed, the Empress may rule her domain, but it was an army of over six million faceless bureaucrats that kept the day-to-day operations running. Outsiders often scoffed at the notion of such an inefficient system, calling it wasteful and redundant. But despite these critiques, the Empire had endured.

    A multi-racial, multi-cultural, multi-religious, multi-ethnic, theocratic state, its survival over centuries seemed almost paradoxical. The question then, how had it lasted this long?

    The answer, as Ries realized, was bureaucracy.

    But it wasn¡¯t just the efficiency of the system¡ªit was its ability to control. The bureaucracy wasn¡¯t just a tool to administer; it was a weapon wielded by the ruling human aristocracy to maintain a chokehold on the Empire¡¯s majority population.

    How?

    Ries had only begun to understand the intricacies since she¡¯d been thrust into the role of Prime Minister.

    The answer lay in layers upon layers of regulation, a labyrinth designed to disempower while appearing impartial. Every cultural expression, every economic activity, every faith practice¡ªeverything was monitored, licensed, and taxed.

    On top of an excessive, very excessive surveillance.

    Want to start a business? You¡¯d need permits, and obtaining them required navigating an opaque process that favored those who could pay bribes or call in favors¡ªor have the patience to wait weeks. Want to build a temple for your faith? Better hope your religion wasn¡¯t on the list of ¡°questionable sects.¡± Even traveling between provinces required documents, checkpoints, and fees¡ªhurdles that disproportionately affected lower-classes.

    The system wasn¡¯t designed to fail but to frustrate. It didn¡¯t outright deny the Beastman tribes their rights, it drowned them in paperwork. It didn¡¯t abolish their customs but taxed them into oblivion. By the time anyone realized they were trapped, the Empire¡¯s ledgers had already turned them into little more than entries on a balance sheet.

    Advancements in technology, once reliant on magic but now transformed by railways and radio, revolutionized how bureaucracy operated. What once took weeks¡ªorders traveling by horse-drawn courier¡ªcould now be transmitted in moments. The Empire¡¯s reach extended further, faster, tightening its grip over its territories. Efficiency wasn¡¯t freedom; they were chains binding the people to the Crown.

    Every village, town, and city was dotted with informants, some planted by the Imperial Security Directory, others by local governors looking to curry favor. Letters were intercepted and copied, private conversations overheard, reported, and catalogued. Even the most mundane acts¡ªbuying a tool, attending a festival, hiring a laborer¡ªcould be scrutinized if flagged as suspicious.

    The level of surveillance was excessive, suffocating even. And yet, it was frighteningly effective. The Empire didn¡¯t just know its people; it knew everything about them. Who owed taxes. Who sympathized with dissident factions. Who dared to question the legitimacy of the Crown or the Archonate.

    The oppressive oversight served two purposes. On one hand, it crushed dissent before it could bloom. Fear of being watched, judged, or punished kept most people in line. On the other, it provided the central government with an unassailable advantage. They controlled the flow of information, ensuring no rebellion could gather strength without them knowing¡ªand responding.

    For an empire built by humans who deified martial prowess, it didn¡¯t break its subjects with open oppression¡ªit suffocated them with rules, processes, and the pretense of legitimacy. Resistance wasn¡¯t silenced with swords or chains, but with stamped decrees and official proclamations that left no room for recourse.

    And it worked, for centuries. The Beastman tribes, the Elves, the Dwarves, The Aquis¡¯, even discontented human provinces¡ªthey all succumbed to the same strategy. The Empire didn¡¯t crush their spirit outright; it wore them down, turned them into cogs in its machine.

    But now, that machine is rusting.

    And it just so happened that she was supposed to grease it up and fix it.

    Ries leaned back in her chair, tail twitching in irritation. A Beastwoman, an outsider by all accounts, now tasked with preserving the system that had systematically marginalized her people.

    The wide double doors to her office creaked open, and Clarissa stepped inside, her boots clicking softly against the floor. She approached with her usual serious working face.

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister, a message from Director Vaspier,¡± Clarissa said, extending the paper toward her.

    Ries didn¡¯t reach for it. Instead, she let out a groan. ¡°What is it now?¡±

    Clarissa cleared her throat, glancing briefly at the paper. ¡°Ahem, the Director has finished another round of arrests but has not captured the leaders of the CDLWP. He suspects they may have left the city.¡±

    Ries¡¯ ears flattened slightly, a subtle yet telling sign of her growing frustration. ¡°Let me guess. He¡¯s asking for more resources to continue the manhunt?¡±

    ¡°Not explicitly,¡± Clarissa replied, ¡°but he¡¯s implying it. The arrests have stirred unrest, and tensions are escalating in the districts where the raids occurred.¡±

    Ries sat upright with a sigh, crossing her arms as her tail swished in annoyance. ¡°So, he¡¯s swept up every dissident in sight but let the ringleaders escape. Brilliant.¡±

    Clarissa remained silent, awaiting her next command.

    Ries exhaled deeply. ¡°Draft a response. Tell Vaspier to shift his focus. If the CDLWP leaders are out of reach, they¡¯re no longer an immediate threat. He should prioritize stabilizing the districts and preventing further unrest. And remind him¡ªquietly¡ªthat evidence, not a pile of detainees and bodies, is what we need to justify these actions.¡±

    Clarissa nodded, already scribbling down notes. ¡°Understood, Madam Prime Minister.¡±

    Ries turned her attention to Haleass, who was still hunched over the map sprawled across the table, lost in thought. ¡°Lieutenant,¡± she called.

    ¡°Yes, madam?¡± Haleass straightened instinctively, his military discipline showing.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be so formal,¡± Ries interjected, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°This isn¡¯t the army anymore¡ªyou¡¯re Home Affairs Minister now. What¡¯s the situation with the rebellions?¡±

    Haleass cleared his throat, taking a moment to adjust to the new tone. ¡°The rebel forces have formed a loose coalition¡ªa mix of human kingdoms, Dwarves, and various Beastman tribes. Others have rescinded the Treatise of Cooperation with the Empire but stopped short of joining the rebellion. They¡¯ve declared neutrality in what they¡¯re calling a ¡®war of liberation.¡¯¡±

    Ries¡¯ ears twitched, her tail swishing slowly behind her as she absorbed the news. ¡°Neutrality,¡± she repeated, her voice dripping with skepticism. ¡°How long before neutrality turns into open rebellion when the tide shifts in their favor?¡±

    Haleass, still slightly stiff from his military habits, took a moment to adjust his stance. ¡°The coalition is fragile, held together by shared grievances rather than a unified goal. Their resentment fuels their efforts, but it won¡¯t sustain them forever. Their unity is tenuous.¡±

    Ries leaned over the map, her eyes darting between the markers denoting rebel strongholds. ¡°Resentment may start a war, but it can¡¯t win one. What about their resources? Are they capable of sustaining this?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re scraping by,¡± Haleass admitted. ¡°Many of the human kingdoms have stockpiles, but the Dwarves are largely funding and arming the effort. The Beastman tribes contribute manpower and terrain knowledge, but they rely heavily on the Humans and Dwarves for modern weaponry and tactics.¡±

    ¡°Do we have any troops to spare that isn¡¯t fighting the Daemons?¡±

    ¡°Well, we do have a professional corps of¡ª¡±

    ¡°A handful of elites against hundreds of thousands? Come on.¡± Ries huffed in exasperation. ¡°The Empire governs over a hundred million people but can barely field half a million soldiers? How is that even possible?¡±

    Haleass shifted uneasily, clearing his throat. ¡°That¡­ stems from historical practices. Standing armies are expensive to maintain. For centuries, the bulk of the military force was the Gendarmerie, who maintained security within the Empire.¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°But the Empire¡ª¡± Ries pressed.

    ¡°¡ªOnly fields human soldiers,¡± Haleass finished.

    Ries¡¯ eyes narrowed. ¡°Why?¡±

    Haleass straightened. ¡°It¡¯s a complicated matter, Madam Prime Minister. Historically, during the Empire¡¯s conquests, it could field millions of soldiers, relying heavily on Beastman mercenaries to bolster its ranks. But as the centuries passed, the endless wars drained resources. War became exhausting, expensive, and the Empire found itself stretched thin. To manage costs and maintain tighter control, the standing army was gradually reduced. The cap eventually shrank to half a million, then four hundred, and later to just three hundred thousand.¡±

    ¡°And the Beastmen?¡±

    ¡°Beastmen and other non-humans are technically allowed to join the army and even attain officer ranks,¡± Haleass admitted. ¡°But they¡¯re exempt from conscription. The rationale was that conscription should apply only to those the Empire deemed directly responsible for its defense¡ªhumans.¡±

    Ries leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed tightly as her tail lashed behind her with growing agitation. ¡°So, the Empire takes advantage of non-human loyalty when it¡¯s convenient, but avoids integrating them into its core institutions. Typical.¡±

    ¡°To be fair, Madam Prime Minister, it¡¯s been a popular policy among non-humans. Avoiding conscription means they¡¯re not dragged into the Empire¡¯s wars, and many see it as a win-win arrangement.¡±

    Ries scoffed. ¡°Popular? Maybe. But it¡¯s cowardice disguised as pragmatism. That policy allowed resentment to fester, and now look where we are¡ªa so-called ¡®war of liberation.¡¯ Let¡¯s call it what it is: a civil war centuries in the making.¡±

    Haleass said nothing, sensing the shift in her tone.

    Ries stood, her tail flinging slightly as she began pacing. ¡°This rebellion is because of the Empire¡¯s inability to enforce its own dominance. For centuries, we¡¯ve tolerated factions, tribes, and kingdoms thinking they could exist under our banner without fully committing to it. We gave them just enough autonomy to keep them quiet and just enough distance to keep them bitter.¡±

    Her pacing stopped abruptly, and she turned to face Haleass. ¡°That ends now. If the Empire is to survive this war and emerge stronger, we must crush any illusion that independence is possible. These so-called rebels need to understand that the state is absolute.¡±

    ¡°First, we extinguish this rebellion¡ªcompletely. No half-measures, no negotiations. Any faction that has declared war against the Empire must be brought to heel. If they want to claim ¡®neutrality,¡¯ fine¡ªbut neutrality means absolute compliance with our demands.¡±

    Haleass straightened. ¡°I¡¯ll inform the Integration Commission. Does this mean we¡¯re expanding conscription?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Ries answered without hesitation. ¡°Draft a second wave of conscription. This time, all able-bodied males of any race will be called to serve. The era of exemptions is over. The Empire belongs to all who live within its borders, and that means all will fight for it.¡± She jabbed a finger at the map. ¡°Set a target of two million men before the new year. I don¡¯t care what it takes¡ªlogistics, propaganda, coercion. Make it happen.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Haleass already moved as he typed on the on the typewriter.

    ¡°Tell the Lord-Marshal to hold his ground against the Daemons. We¡¯ll deal with them when the time comes, but right now, the rebellions take precedence. If we allow this insubordination to fester, we won¡¯t have an Empire left to defend.¡± She continued.

    Haleass nodded, his hands moving quickly as he typed her orders on the typewriter.

    Ries¡¯s tail flicked impatiently as she watched him work. ¡°How many men in basic training haven¡¯t been deployed to the frontlines?¡±

    Haleass paused, referring to his notes. ¡°Around a hundred and forty thousand are currently in basic training but not yet deployed to the front.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Ries nodded. ¡°Good. Deploy them immediately to the provinces. They¡¯ll assume control from the local nobilities and establish direct Imperial authority. Any noble who resists is to be stripped of their title and power¡ªby force, if necessary.¡±

    Haleass resumed typing. ¡°Understood. Is there anything else, Madam Prime Minister?¡±

    Ries tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. ¡°None for now,¡± she said firmly.

    Haleass stood, snapping a salute before turning on his heel and disappearing through the wide double doors. The sound of his boots echoed faintly down the corridor as the doors closed behind him.

    Ries stood alone, her gaze fixed on the map laid across the table. Each marker and line represented not just territories, but people¡ªmillions of lives hanging on the edge of her decisions. Her hand lightly tapped against the wood as she considered her next move.

    The room was quiet now, save for the faint crackle of the fireplace in the corner. Ries reached for a pen. The rebellion was not just a military threat¡ªit was a challenge to the Empire¡¯s authority, a symptom of centuries of mismanagement, complacency, and division. If the Empire was to survive, she would need more than soldiers and proclamations.

    Ironic, isn¡¯t it?

    Her pen scratched across the paper as she signed the decree to accompany the conscription orders.

    <blockquote>

    IMPERIAL DECREE 2112-1-200

    By the authority vested in the Prime Minister of the Empire, acting in the name of Her Most Serene Majesty, Her Imperial Majesty Valerys IX, the Empress Eternal, the following directive is hereby issued and shall be observed throughout the realm without exception:

    <ol>

    <li> Immediate Implementation of Direct Imperial Governance</li>

    </ol>

    1.1. All regions, provinces, and territories under the Empire¡¯s dominion shall come under the direct governance of the central Imperial administration, effective immediately.

    1.2. Provincial noble families are to cede all administrative, judicial, and executive powers to Imperial-appointed officials.

    1.3. Imperial governors, acting as direct representatives of the Crown, shall oversee governance, enforce Imperial law, collect taxes, and manage resources.

    1.4. Any noble family that resists this mandate shall be declared in rebellion against the Crown, and their titles, lands, and assets shall be forfeit. Treasonous individuals will face prosecution under Imperial law.

    <ol start="2">

    <li> National Census</li>

    </ol>

    2.1. A nationwide census shall be conducted to catalog the population''s total numbers, including detailed demographic, occupational, and socio-economic data.

    2.2. Census officials will coordinate with local administrators to ensure accuracy and completeness, utilizing standardized forms and records maintained by the Imperial Bureau of Population Affairs.

    2.3. The census will identify all able-bodied individuals eligible for conscription, with particular focus on males aged 16¨C45, without exception to race or regional origin.

    2.4. The results of the census will inform conscription quotas to meet the target of raising an additional two million soldiers by year¡¯s end.

    2.5. Any attempts to evade the census or provide false information shall be treated as an act of defiance against Imperial authority, punishable by law.

    <ol start="3">

    <li> Conscription</li>

    </ol>

    3.1. The policy of conscription is hereby expanded to include all able-bodied citizens, irrespective of race, religion, class, or region.

    3.2. Exemptions from military service are revoked, with the sole exceptions being clergy and individuals with certified medical conditions as determined by the Imperial Bureau of Health and Social Services.

    3.3. Conscripts will be categorized based on age, skills, racial skills, and physical fitness for assignment to combat or logistical roles.

    3.4. Training facilities will operate on an expanded schedule to accommodate the influx of recruits, with resources allocated for additional instructors and supplies.

    This decree shall take effect immediately and supersedes any regional laws or policies that conflict with its provisions.

    Issued and proclaimed this day under my hand and seal,

    Anise Des Katzennia,

    Prime Minister,

    In the name of Her Most Serene Majesty, Valerys IX.

    </blockquote>

    Moments later, Clarissa entered, carrying a stack of papers. ¡°Madam Prime Minister, your schedule for the afternoon,¡± she began, but stopped when she saw Ries deep in thought, staring at the decree.

    ¡°What is it, Clarissa?¡± Ries asked without looking up.

    ¡°Just wondering, Madam,¡± Clarissa said carefully, ¡°are you certain this path is the best way to secure the Empire¡¯s future?¡±

    Ries let out a long, weary sigh, leaning back in her chair. "I don¡¯t know, to be honest. I¡¯m doing what I believe needs to be done to hold this train wreck together."

    Clarissa raised an eyebrow. ¡°That is by cracking down on the CDLWP, censoring the press, and sending the army to occupy provincial governments?¡±

    Clarissa stepped closer, carefully setting the papers down on the desk. "And that includes suppressing dissent, censoring the press, and deploying the military to dismantle provincial governments?"

    Ries¡¯s tail flicked in mild annoyance as she rolled her eyes. "If you¡¯ve got a better idea, Clarissa, I¡¯m all ears." One of her feline ears twitched, angling slightly as though to emphasize her words.

    "I¡­ I suppose not," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Never mind, Madam."

    Ries scoffed lightly and turned her attention back to the decree. "That¡¯s what I thought," she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

    It was ironic, really.

    If not for the war, the election results would have been finalized by now, and she would have been free from this overwhelming burden. Free to return to a simpler life as a Beastman, untouched by the chaos of politics. Albeit, a much wealthier Beastman.

    Fifty million Virs wealthier, to be exact.

    The thought brought a fleeting smirk to her lips, though it was quickly replaced by a scowl. The Valyryan Stock Exchange had been her golden goose, at least for a time. Brokers and financiers, desperate to curry favor or secure her ear, had practically handed her insider knowledge of lucrative stock options. It was almost too easy.

    But now, that same stock exchange teetered on the edge of collapse, barely saved from a full-scale free fall. And as if she didn¡¯t already have enough on her plate, the very same people who had once showered her with tips and gifts were now groveling at her feet, begging her to stabilize the markets and save their fortunes.

    Her tail twitched irritably as she leaned back in her chair. ¡°Apparently, everything is my responsibility now.¡± She sighs.

    She glanced at the stacks of papers on her desk, most of them dire reports about the state of the economy, the military, and the rebellions. The Empire was tearing apart at the seams, and it seemed like everyone expected her to sew it back together.

    ¡°Clarissa,¡± Ries called, not bothering to look up, ¡°what¡¯s the status of the CDLWP?¡±

    She glanced up from her clipboard. ¡°Hm? Oh, the ISD has harshly cracked down on them, in the capital and other major cities, with more than a hundred thousand arrests¡­¡± She trailed off, ¡°though as the Director said before, the leadership has yet to be caught.¡±

    Ries¡¯ brow furrowed, her ears tilting slightly forward. ¡°And what¡¯s the likelihood of them setting up a rival government somewhere? Another rebellion is the last thing we need right now.¡±

    ¡°Unlikely,¡± Clarissa replied with a shrug. ¡°Their primary support base has always been the working class. With the ISD rounding up their members in industrial cities, their organizational structure has been effectively dismantled for the time being.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± Ries muttered, though the relief in her tone was thin. She leaned back, tapping her fingers on the desk. ¡°At least that¡¯s one less fire to put out.¡±

    ¡°However, we do have ongoing communications with the so-called ¡®liberal wing¡¯ of the CDLWP. They¡¯ve distanced themselves from the more radical factions and are expressing interest in... dialogue.¡±

    Ries leaned back in her chair, waving her hand dismissively. ¡°Hm? Oh, them¡­ just tell them they¡¯ll get their election once the war is over. That should keep them quiet for now.¡±

    Clarissa hesitated, as if weighing whether to respond, but before she could speak, a knock echoed from the door.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Clarissa said quickly, setting her clipboard aside and moving to the door. ¡°It must be them.¡±

    As she opened the heavy double doors, two older gentlemen stepped inside. Both were distinguished, their ages no less than seventy, yet they carried themselves with the energy of men still deeply engrossed in their work.

    ¡°Gentlemen, welcome, welcome¡­¡± Ries greeted them warmly, rising from her chair and motioning for them to sit. Her voice carried a practiced air of confidence, though inwardly, she already dreaded the complexity of the conversation to come.

    Economics or finance wasn¡¯t her strong suit¡ªfar from it. And with the position of Economics Minister still vacant, the burden of managing the Empire¡¯s precarious financial situation fell squarely on her shoulders. The two men before her represented some of the brightest minds in their respective fields in the Empire, both holding respectable PhDs and decades of experience.

    Key word: their fields.

    As Clarissa guided them to their seats, Ries took a moment to size them up. They offered two very distinct¡ªand very different¡ªeconomic reform packages, both of which she now had to consider.

    The first, Professor Edvard Malreych, was a staunch advocate of austerity.

    The second, Dr. Harland Breck, represented an entirely different school of thought. A Keynesian by philosophy, his plan centered on massive government investments and government intervention.

    Ries folded her arms as the two men settled, quietly and gently pushing the desk drawer containing packs of candy, important decrees that has yet to be signed, and biographies of the two men before her.

    ¡°Thank you both for coming on such short notice,¡± she began. ¡°As you¡¯re aware, the Empire is at a breaking point. Rebellion, war, economic instability, stock market collapse¡ªyou name it, we¡¯re facing it. What I need from you isn¡¯t just theory; I need actionable solutions that will hold this fragile structure together.¡±

    Ries leaned forward, her gaze shifting between the two economists. ¡°You¡¯re both here because the Empire is hanging by a thread, and I need to make a decision that could either save it or push it further into chaos. Professor Malreych, Dr. Breck, the floor is yours.¡±

    Professor Malreych adjusted his glasses as he began. ¡°Madam Prime Minister, the current state of the treasury is unsustainable. The state is hemorrhaging money, with expenses vastly outstripping revenues. War expenditures, bloated bureaucracies, and frivolous subsidies must be curtailed. I propose cutting non-essential government programs by sixty percent, raising taxes on luxury goods, and instituting a temporary wartime income tax.¡±

    Dr. Breck interjected almost immediately. ¡°Cutting spending by sixty percent?! Are you mad?! That¡¯s a recipe for disaster. The Empire¡¯s economy is already teetering. Slashing budgets will shut down factories, put thousands out of work, and only exacerbate unrest. My plan calls for a five billion Virs investment in infrastructure¡ªroads, railways, and ports¡ªpaired with wage subsidies for key industries. This would provide immediate jobs and stimulate economic activity.¡±

    Malreych scoffed. ¡°Stimulate activity? On borrowed money, no less! The Empire is already drowning in debt. Your so-called investments would drive inflation through the roof, eroding whatever meager savings the working class has left.¡±

    Breck crossed his arms. ¡°Inflation, while a concern, can be managed. What¡¯s unmanageable is the complete collapse of demand. Factories need orders, workers need wages, and the military-industrial complex needs to keep moving. Austerity will kill what little momentum we have.¡±

    Malreych¡¯s tone grew colder. ¡°And where do you propose we get the five billion Virs for your infrastructure dream? Shall we conjure it out of thin air? Borrow from foreign lenders? Sell bonds no one has faith in anymore?¡±

    Ries rubbed her temples as her tail swished irritably behind her. The rapid back-and-forth between the two economists was like a duel with words, but instead of swords, they wielded charts, theories, and carefully concealed insults. Or maybe not.

    "This is making my head hurt... again," she muttered under her breath, her feline ears twitching.

    Breck noticed her expression and adjusted his tone, leaning back slightly. ¡°Madam Prime Minister, I understand this may seem overwhelming. But my plan isn¡¯t just about infrastructure; it¡¯s about hope. The people need to see progress¡ªnew roads, factories reopening, reindustrialization, children fed. That¡¯s what will keep this Empire together.¡±

    Malreych, however, was unrelenting. ¡°Hope doesn¡¯t balance budgets, Dr. Breck. Madam Prime Minister, the war alone is costing us eight hundred million Virs per month and rising, rising! If we continue hemorrhaging funds, even your infrastructure projects won¡¯t save us. We need a fiscal lifeline, not wishful thinking.¡±

    Ries raised a hand, silencing them both. ¡°Alright, let me make sure I¡¯ve got this straight. Dr. Breck, you want to spend five billion Virs we don¡¯t have to rebuild the economy and restore confidence, banking on future growth to pay for it. And Professor Malreich, you want to slash spending, raise taxes, and basically hope the treasury stabilizes before the people revolt. Do I have that right?¡±

    Both men nodded, though Breck looked far more pleased with her summary than Malreich.

    ¡°Alright, well¡­ Clarissa,¡± Clarissa¡¯s head snapped to hers. ¡°Could you please err¡­ explain the implementations of¡­¡± Ries hesitated, searching for the right words as she gestured vaguely toward the two men. ¡°...the implementations of both their plans? You know, in practical terms, like what they would actually mean for the average person.¡±

    Clarissa, gave a slight nod and flipped through her clipboard. ¡°Certainly, Madam.¡± She turned toward Malreyh first. ¡°Professor Malreych¡¯s austerity plan would involve immediate cuts to government-funded programs, including subsidies for agriculture, education, and certain public works. Taxes on income and essential goods would also rise, particularly targeting middle and upper-income brackets. This would stabilize the treasury in theory, but it risks escalating public dissatisfaction and deepening the recession in the short term.¡±

    She then shifted her attention to Breck. ¡°Dr. Breck¡¯s proposal, on the other hand, would see an influx of government spending on major infrastructure projects, creating jobs and stimulating the economy. However, it would require significant borrowing¡ªeither from domestic or foreign lenders¡ªor the issuance of new government bonds, which could destabilize the already fragile credit market. Inflation would likely rise, putting additional strain on low-income households.¡±

    Ries leaned back in her chair, groaning. ¡°So, in one scenario, people get angry because we¡¯re taking away everything they need. In the other, they get angry because their money doesn¡¯t buy anything anymore. Great. Just great.¡±

    Breck interjected with a calm but firm tone. ¡°Madam Prime Minister, the question isn¡¯t whether people will be unhappy¡ªthat¡¯s inevitable in times like these. The question is, which path leads to recovery, even if it¡¯s painful in the short term? My plan gives people work and hope.¡±

    Malreich countered immediately. ¡°And what good is work and hope if hyperinflation wipes out savings and pensions?¡±

    Clarissa cleared her throat, drawing their attention. ¡°Madam, if I may, there is another consideration. Both plans would require significant administrative resources to implement. The bureaucracy is already overstretched managing the war effort and rebellion crackdowns. Whichever route you choose, the burden on the state apparatus will increase.¡±

    Ries smirked humorlessly, leaning forward with a glint of mischief in her eyes. ¡°Hah~ whatever, it¡¯s their job to make it work. Or maybe I need to slash the bureaucracy from six million to, say, three or two million, too? Wouldn¡¯t that be fun?¡±

    Clarissa hesitated. ¡°That¡­ is not recommended, Madam.¡±

    ¡°Well, regardless, Professor, Doctor,¡± Ries said, sitting upright and nodding to both of them. ¡°I¡¯ll consider both of your proposals carefully. Perhaps we can come to a compromise?¡±

    Malreich scoffed, adjusting his glasses. ¡°A compromise rarely satisfies either side, Prime Minister.¡±

    Breck agreed. ¡°Indeed.¡±

    Ries sighed inwardly as the two men rose from their seats, nodding curtly before making their exits. As soon as the door closed, she slumped back into her chair, her tail flicking in irritation. ¡°Great. I just booked myself front seats for the ¡®Economics Gladiator¡¯ championship.¡±

    Clarissa suppressed a small smile as she collected her clipboard. ¡°You did well, Madam. They¡¯ll push each other, and with some luck, we might get a workable plan. oh, before I forget, the Central Bank did also provide us with their own version of economic reform.¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow. ¡°Fantastic. And how does theirs differ from the brawl we just witnessed?¡±

    Clarissa flipped through her clipboard, finding the relevant document with practiced efficiency. ¡°The Central Bank¡¯s proposal focuses on monetary policy rather than fiscal intervention. They¡¯re suggesting a combination of measures, including raising interest rates to curb inflation, introducing stricter controls on currency circulation, and stabilizing the Vir through direct intervention in the financial markets. Also reforms on the currency itself to eliminate the Silver and Gold Virs.¡±

    Ries groaned, her ears flattening slightly. ¡°So¡­ instead of cutting spending or throwing money at infrastructure, they want to choke the economy until it behaves?¡±

    ¡°Essentially, yes,¡± Clarissa replied. ¡°They believe tightening monetary policy will restore confidence in the currency and prevent further destabilization. It¡¯s a more technical approach but one that shifts the burden away from direct government action.¡±

    ¡°And the downside?¡±

    ¡°Higher interest rates would make borrowing prohibitively expensive for both businesses and individuals. It could stifle growth in key sectors and exacerbate unemployment in the short term. There¡¯s also the risk of public backlash if people feel the Central Bank is prioritizing financial stability over their immediate needs.¡±

    ¡°Lovely,¡± Ries muttered. ¡°So, let me get this straight. One plan starves the Empire, the other floods it, and this one ties its hands behind its back and asks it to stay still while being baked in the sunlight while everyone throws rocks.¡±

    ¡°An apt summary, Madam,¡± Clarissa said with a faint smile.

    Ries slumped further in her chair. ¡°Remind me again why I wanted this job?¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t,¡±

    Ries chuckled dryly. ¡°Fair point. Alright, here¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do. Schedule a meeting with the Central Bank¡¯s representatives. I want to hear their pitch directly.¡±

    ¡°Understood, Madam.¡± Clarissa jotted it down. Then, as if remembering something, she added, ¡°Oh, and the Borian Ambassador has requested an audience.¡±

    Ries groaned and buried her face in her hands. ¡°Of course. Because why wouldn¡¯t today get worse?¡±

    ¡°Shall I tell him you¡¯re unavailable?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Ries sighed, dragging her hands down her face. ¡°Put him on the schedule... after I¡¯ve had at least one cup of coffee stronger than my will to live.¡±

    <hr>

    Irvin was an honest man¡ªan honest Beastman. Though the memories of his people¡¯s expulsion from their native lands weighed heavily on his heart, he had found solace in the structured chaos of the Empire. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but its systems¡ªespecially its sense of order and the value of money¡ªhad allowed him to rebuild. His fishing supply business thrived in the bustling west-coast city he now called home, a far cry from the simpler, barter-based life of his tribe.

    As an Ursine Beastman, Irvin looked every bit the part of a bear. His large frame and grizzled fur gave him a formidable appearance, but his gentle demeanor quickly dispelled any fears. He was a patient man, known for his even temper and generous spirit. It was this calm reliability that had earned him the trust of his human and Beastman customers alike. He had brought his family to this city for a better life, and despite the war raging just across the coast, Irvin remained steadfast in his belief that the Empire would prevail like it always did.

    It was a quiet morning in his shop. The scent of saltwater mingled with the earthy aroma of freshly polished wood as he cleaned the countertop. Business had been steady, and he had just finished arranging a new shipment of nets and bait.

    The rumble of an approaching vehicle caught his attention. Glancing out the window, he saw a military truck grind to a halt outside his shop. His thick brow furrowed. What now? he thought. Inspections? A demand for bribes? The Empire¡¯s bureaucracy had its share of problems, and dealings with the military were rarely pleasant.

    The bell above the door jingled as it opened. A human soldier in a crisp military uniform stepped inside, his boots clicking against the wooden floor. Irvin straightened, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he sized them up.

    The soldier¡¯s gaze was sharp, though not overtly hostile. ¡°Mr. Irvin,¡± he began, his tone firm and formal, ¡°I am Lieutenant Marko of the Imperial Army. I am here under orders to bring one Leo into the service.¡±

    Irvin¡¯s heart sank. His chest tightened as the weight of the words settled in. No, it can¡¯t be. Right?

    ¡°Leo¡­? My son?¡± His voice was tinged with disbelief and a rising panic. ¡°What? Why? We Beastmen are exempt from conscription!¡±

    Marko remained impassive, his stance rigid. ¡°New orders, Mr. Irvin. Imperial Decree 2112-1-200 states that conscription is now shared by all races who are citizens of the Empire, regardless of origin or prior exemptions.¡±

    Irvin¡¯s fists clenched, his large frame trembling with a mix of anger and fear. ¡°That¡¯s absurd! Beastmen have always been left out of your wars. You took our lands, our pride, and now you want to take our children?¡± His voice grew louder, a rumble that made the bottles on nearby shelves vibrate.

    The lieutenant stood his ground. ¡°I don¡¯t make the laws, Mr. Irvin. The Empire needs every able-bodied citizen to defend against the Daemon threat. Your son has been selected. This isn¡¯t up for debate.¡±

    Irvin¡¯s ears twitched, his gaze flickering toward the stairs leading to the family¡¯s living quarters above the shop. ¡°He¡¯s just a boy,¡± Irvin growled, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. ¡°Barely of age, with no training. What use could he be to your war machine?¡±

    The lieutenant glanced at his watch. ¡°Your son has until sunrise tomorrow to report to the recruitment officer at the city center. Failure to comply will result in fines, penalties, and charges of treason. Good day.¡±

    With that, Lieutenant Marko turned on his heel and strode out, the jingle of the shop bell marking his departure.

    Irvin stood frozen, staring at the door as it closed. His hands trembled, and a storm of anger and helplessness churned in his chest. The Empire had already taken so much¡ªhis tribe¡¯s lands, their freedom, their pride¡ªand now it wanted his son.

    He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady himself. Slowly, he turned and made his way upstairs. Each step felt heavier than the last, the creak of the wooden stairs echoing like a tolling bell.

    When he reached Leo¡¯s room, the sight of his son stopped him in his tracks. Leo sat cross-legged on the floor, tinkering with a fishing reel, his face lit with quiet concentration and youthful enthusiasm.

    ¡°Dad?¡± Leo looked up, his bright eyes immediately clouding with concern. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    Irvin opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, his voice strained as he finally forced the words out.

    ¡°Leo¡­ we need to talk.¡±

 Part XXVI: Big Guns, Bigger Government

    Ries entered the meeting room, her shoulders squared but her steps unhurried. Waiting for her was the Borian ambassador, seated with the calculated poise of a seasoned diplomat. Unlike the Valkorian ambassador, who had promptly departed following their declaration of war, the Borians had chosen to keep their diplomatic channels open¡ªa decision she couldn¡¯t help but respect, if only grudgingly.

    The man before her was the picture of Borian aristocracy. Petr Velkov¡ªan Earl, or whatever equivalent title the Tsardom used¡ªwas dressed impeccably in a tailored coat adorned with subtle gold embroidery. His sharp, hawk-like features and meticulously groomed silver hair spoke of a man accustomed to control, power, and, above all, appearances.

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister,¡± Velkov said, rising to his feet as she approached. His voice was smooth, rich with the distinct accent of his homeland. ¡°It is an honor to meet with you, even under such¡­ challenging circumstances.¡±

    ¡°Ambassador Velkov,¡± Ries replied, her tone neutral as she extended her hand. ¡°The honor is mutual, though I admit I¡¯m curious about the purpose of this meeting.¡±

    Velkov¡¯s lips curled into a polite smile as he shook her hand briefly before gesturing for her to sit. ¡°The Tsardom has always valued its ties to the Empire, strained though they may be at times. It is in that spirit that I have come to discuss matters of mutual concern.¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow as she took her seat, folding her hands on the table. ¡°Mutual concern? That¡¯s a broad term. Care to elaborate?¡±

    She wasn¡¯t blind to geopolitics. Well¡­ not anymore, thanks to Clarissa¡¯s whirlwind of a briefing session. Her assistant had gone into full turbo-mode, bombarding her with maps and summaries of the tangled web of alliances and rivalries that defined the continent.

    The gist was simple enough, though. The Empire and the Tsardom were rivals¡ªfrenemies, to put it lightly. Both were imperialist powers, relentless in their expansionist ambitions. The key difference was geography. Valyra dominated the fertile southern expanse of the continent, rich in resources and trade routes. The Tsardom, by contrast, clung to the frozen wastelands beyond the Everfree Mountain Range¡ªa desolate, frigid hellscape.

    If not for the imposing mountains serving as a natural barrier, the two empires would have likely been locked in endless wars of attrition. As it stood, the peaks had forced them into an uneasy truce, punctuated by the occasional skirmish and diplomatic power play.

    Velkov¡¯s polished demeanor betrayed nothing, but Ries knew better than to assume altruism. The Borians weren¡¯t here to play nice, they never do. They wanted something.

    ¡°Of course, Madam Prime Minister,¡± Velkov began smoothly, folding his hands on the table. ¡°While our respective nations may not always see eye to eye, we are united by the realities of our time. The Daemon incursion to the west threatens all of us, and disruptions to trade and stability affect us equally. The Tsardom believes there is room for cooperation, even amidst rivalry.¡±

    ¡°Really now? Last I heard, you and your other rival, the Valkorians, are now allied with the Daemons and even sent troops to fight our soldiers.¡±

    ¡°A common misconception, Madam Prime Minister,¡± he replied, his tone carefully neutral. ¡°The Tsardom¡¯s engagement with the Daemons is one of necessity, not alignment. The situation is... complex, as I¡¯m sure you understand.¡±

    ¡°Is it, now?¡± Ries leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as her tail flicked in irritation beneath the table. ¡°That¡¯s a creative way of justifying sleeping in the enemy¡¯s bed.¡±

    Velkov inclined his head slightly, as though conceding a point. ¡°Your skepticism is expected and, perhaps, warranted. However, I did not come here to trade barbs but to discuss a very real crisis¡ªone I believe you¡¯ll want to hear about.¡±

    Ries tilted her head, her feline ears twitching. ¡°I¡¯m listening. What is it?¡±

    Velkov leaned forward slightly. ¡°The public mood in Valkoria is... volatile, shall we say? Discontent with their monarchy has reached a boiling point. There are uprisings forming, disorganized but gaining traction. Revolutionary whispers are spreading among their populace, threatening to destabilize not only their kingdom but the entire region.¡±

    Ries¡¯s eyes narrowed as she processed his words. ¡°And this is my problem how?¡±

    Velkov leaned back, adopting a contemplative posture as if weighing his next words carefully. ¡°The Daemons have conveyed to my Tsar their intentions to intervene. They claim their goal is to depose the Valkorian monarchy and establish¡­ a republic,¡± he said, his voice curling with disdain on the last word.

    ¡°I see.¡± Ries leaned back as well. ¡°So, they¡¯re planning to betray the Valkorians. Let me guess¡ªyou¡¯re here to switch sides before the tide turns.¡±

    Velkov¡¯s lips curled into a faint smile, his tone becoming both conciliatory and purposefully vague. ¡°Switch sides, Madam Prime Minister? Such terminology is rather crude, don¡¯t you think? What the Tsardom seeks is not a change of allegiance but a reevaluation of priorities in light of evolving circumstances. The complexities of geopolitics often demand that we adapt to the fluidity of the moment without losing sight of the enduring principles that guide us.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of words for someone coming to my house to beg for shelter. Let me make this simple. Depending on the length and clarity of your answer, I¡¯ll decide how seriously to take this discussion. Is the Tsardom looking to join forces with the Empire against the Daemons, or not?¡±

    Velkov maintained his smile, ¡°If we do, there are a set of conditions that are to be¡­ realized on the post-war world¡­¡±

    ¡°Already thinking that far ahead?¡±

    Velkov leaned back slightly, steepling his fingers in a gesture of thoughtfulness. ¡°Naturally, Madam Prime Minister, any commitment of resources or cooperation from the Tsardom must ensure our sovereignty and strategic interests are preserved in the post-war order.¡±

    Ries mulled for a bit, thinking about it. Though the answer was already in her head, she just wanted to stretch the time. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll coordinate with the Foreign Affairs Ministry.¡±

    Velkov¡¯s smile deepened, his expression one of carefully crafted diplomacy. ¡°Ah, I see the Empire¡¯s leadership retains its pragmatic approach. A refreshing quality in these turbulent times.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t mistake pragmatism for blind agreement, Ambassador. I¡¯ll coordinate with Foreign Affairs, but whether or not your ¡®conditions¡¯ are worth considering depends entirely on what you bring to the table.¡±

    Velkov inclined his head graciously, though the glint in his eyes hinted at his satisfaction. ¡°Of course, Madam Prime Minister. Rest assured, the Tsardom understands that actions speak louder than words. Our intelligence dossier on the Daemon movements, will be delivered posthaste. I trust you¡¯ll find its contents most enlightening.¡±

    Ries tilted her head slightly, her ears twitching in skepticism. ¡°If that dossier doesn¡¯t tell me something I don¡¯t already know, you can bet the next meeting won¡¯t be as cordial.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Velkov replied smoothly, standing from his chair. ¡°I look forward to fostering a productive dialogue between our nations, Madam Prime Minister. Until then, I bid you good day.¡±

    As the Borian ambassador left the room, Ries let out a quiet huff, her tail flicking in irritation as she turned to Clarissa, who stood nearby with a notebook in hand.

    ¡°Clarissa, get someone from Military Intelligence to review that dossier as soon as it arrives. I don¡¯t trust him or his ¡®enlightening¡¯ information.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Madam Prime Minister,¡± Clarissa replied, scribbling a note. ¡°Do you want me to inform the Foreign Affairs Ministry right away?¡±

    Ries stood, stretching slightly as she adjusted her coat. ¡°Do it, but tell them to tread carefully. Velkov¡¯s not here to make friends¡ªhe¡¯s here to secure whatever advantage he can. And I¡¯m not about to hand him one on a silver platter. Make sure we list our own demands.¡±

    She glanced at her watch. ¡°When is the Central Bank¡¯s director available?¡±

    ¡°Shall we go now, Madam Prime Minister?¡± Clarissa replied.

    ¡°Yes, yes we shall.¡±

    <hr>

    The Central Bank¡¯s main building was in one of the wealthiest districts of Valyra, its marble fa?ade gleaming in the pale winter sunlight. The district itself exuded opulence, with broad streets lined by stately mansions and bustling luxury shops. Coincidentally¡ªor perhaps not¡ªthe Central Bank was located just minutes from the stock exchange and the Chambers of Commerce.

    As the Empire¡¯s central bank, it shoulders the burden of an invisible war¡ªeconomics. It issues currency, manages bonds, and steers monetary policy to stabilize the empire¡¯s vast and often volatile economy. Despite the Empire¡¯s centralized power, the Central Bank maintains a surprising degree of independence, shielded from most forms of government overreach.

    Ries met the Central Bank¡¯s director in an expansive conference room that felt empty with only the two of them plus Clarissa.

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister, it¡¯s a pleasure to have you here,¡± Director Roylan began, his voice devoid of inflection as if reading from a script. Behind him, a pair of assistants busied themselves with setting up a white projection sheet.

    Ries¡¯s eyes gazed briefly to the preparations, a sinking feeling settling in her gut. This was going to be one of those meetings¡ªdense, tedious, and guaranteed to leave her with a headache.

    Director Roylan embodied everything she imagined of a career bureaucrat. Unremarkable in appearance, with thin-rimmed spectacles perched precariously on his nose and a face as expressive as a stone gargoyle, even then the stone gargoyle is more expressive than him. It occurred to her that if she stayed in civil service long enough, she might one day look and sound like him¡ªa realization that sent an involuntary twitch of her ears.

    ¡°The feeling¡¯s mutual, Director,¡± she replied, keeping her tone neutral but curt. ¡°I¡¯m informed the Central Bank has proposed economic reforms. I assume that¡¯s what this meeting is about?¡±

    Roylan nodded, his movements as precise and mechanical as the gears of a clock. ¡°Indeed, Madam Prime Minister. The Central Bank has drafted a series of internal reforms aimed at reinforcing economic stability amidst the ongoing crises. These measures are intended to streamline our operations, safeguard monetary stability, and bolster our capacity to weather future financial challenges.¡±

    Ries leaned back in her chair, her ears twitching in slight irritation at the monotony of his delivery. ¡°I trust these reforms won¡¯t result in further complications for my government. We have enough fires to put out as it is.¡±

    Roylan adjusted his spectacles, the gesture practiced to the point of habit. ¡°The reforms are structured to address inefficiencies within the Bank itself. However, certain elements will necessitate collaboration with your administration¡ªmost notably, modifications to our bond issuance policies and the development of a new framework for currency stabilization.¡±

    Ries turned her gaze to Clarissa, who stood at her side with a notebook in hand, ever the reliable assistant. ¡°What exactly did the Central Bank outline in their earlier communications?¡±

    Clarissa cleared her throat, flipping to a page of neatly written notes. ¡°They¡¯ve suggested a multi-pronged approach. Increasing interest rates to control inflation, tightening regulations on currency circulation, and intervening in the financial markets to stabilize the Vir. Additionally,¡± she paused for emphasis, ¡°there¡¯s a controversial recommendation to phase out the dual Silver and Gold Virs system entirely, replacing it with a unified currency.¡±

    Ries arched a brow, her tail stilling as she considered the implications. ¡°Eliminating the Silver and Gold Virs? What¡¯s the reasoning behind that?¡±

    Roylan stepped forward, his measured movements mirroring the methodical tone of his voice. "Please, Madam Prime Minister, we shall approach this step-by-step," he said, gesturing toward the now-illuminated projection. "Let us begin with monetary policy."

    The projection displayed a graph, its jagged lines charting the rise and fall of inflation rates over the past decade. Roylan pointed with a long, thin rod, his voice droning like a professor giving a lecture. "As you can see, inflation has been on an upward trajectory, exacerbated by external and internal conflicts. Our current interest rate, while adequate in periods of stability, has proven insufficient in curbing these pressures. We propose a gradual increase¡ªincremental, yet firm enough to signal the Bank¡¯s commitment to controlling inflation."

    Ries glanced at the projection, her feline ears twitching as she struggled to focus on the dense charts and whatnot when the Director decided it was funny to hit her with even denser economic jargon.

    "The proposed adjustments to the nominal interest rate," Roylan continued, "are designed to achieve a deceleration in aggregate demand while simultaneously reinforcing the value proposition of long-term government securities. By incrementally raising rates, we can introduce a deflationary bias to counteract the systemic liquidity oversaturation currently exacerbating our trade imbalances."

    Ries nodded slowly, her expression neutral despite the mental effort required to parse his words. Deflationary bias? Liquidity oversaturation? She made a mental note to ask Clarissa about these terms later.

    ¡°And how,¡± she said carefully, ¡°does that translate to people who are already struggling with rising costs?¡±

    Roylan adjusted his spectacles. ¡°The redistributive effect of higher interest rates will disproportionately benefit savers while tempering excessive speculative borrowing. However, to mitigate any regressive impacts on the lower-income demographics, we propose ancillary fiscal measures, including targeted subsidies and strategic capital reinvestment in labor-intensive sectors.¡±

    Ries nodded again, her tail flicking subtly beneath the table. Redistributive effect? Ancillary fiscal measures? She decided not to press further. ¡°Fine. What¡¯s next?¡±

    Roylan clicked to the next slide, which showed a flowchart of currency issuance and circulation. ¡°Now, regarding our currency controls. The excessive minting of Silver Virs has led to an inflationary dissonance within the monetary base, undermining the fiduciary equilibrium we aim to maintain. By imposing quantitative restrictions on currency issuance, we can recalibrate the money supply to align more closely with macroeconomic indicators of productivity.¡±

    Ries forced herself to keep nodding, though her ears betrayed her confusion, twitching ever so slightly. ¡°And the oversight for these¡­ recalibrations?¡±

    ¡°We propose establishing a multisectoral oversight framework,¡± Roylan said, his voice devoid of any inflection that might indicate excitement or doubt. ¡°This would involve representatives from the Central Bank, the Ministry of Economic affairs, and independent economic auditors, ensuring adherence to best practices in fiduciary governance.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Ries said, glancing at Clarissa, who was furiously jotting notes. She decided to let that point lie for now. ¡°Now, about this unified currency proposal.¡±

    Roylan¡¯s assistants quickly switched the slide to display a mock-up of the new currency, a sleek, modern design that still bore the Empire¡¯s emblem. ¡°The bifurcation of the Silver and Gold Virs, while historically significant, has resulted in an inefficient dual-monetary system. Market actors frequently exploit the valuation disparity, leading to transactional asymmetries and speculative distortions.¡±

    Ries raised a hand, cutting through the fog of jargon. ¡°You mean people take advantage of the system to make money at the expense of everyone else?¡±

    Roylan blinked, momentarily thrown off by the simplification. ¡°In essence, yes. The unification would eliminate such arbitrage opportunities, fostering a more stable and efficient economic environment. Transition mechanisms, such as phased withdrawals and incentivized exchanges, will ensure public confidence and minimize disruption.¡±

    ¡°Okay, hold on. You¡¯re asking the Empire to scrap a system people have relied on for generations. If public confidence drops, this plan crashes and burns. How do you address that?¡±

    "We will institute a two-year window for the public to exchange their old currencies for the new one. The transition period will include rigorous public awareness campaigns, ensuring that citizens and businesses alike are informed of the process well in advance."

    He gestured toward the projection. "The unified currency will feature denominations of 1, 2, 5, 10, 20, 50, and 100, alongside fractional coins of 0.25 and 0.50 for smaller transactions. This simplification will not only reduce confusion but also streamline trade and commerce across the Empire."

    Ries tilted her head slightly, her ears flicking in a sign of skepticism. "And you think the public will just¡­ embrace this? What about those who resist? The ones who hoard their wealth in Silver and Gold Virs? Or those who don''t trust the government to honor their savings?"

    He shrugged. ¡°Madam Prime Minister, societal evolution is rarely without resistance. Those clinging to outdated systems¡ªbe it out of fear, ignorance, or obstinance¡ªmust either adapt or be left behind. It¡¯s the natural order of progress.¡±

    ¡°Really? That¡¯s your answer? You¡¯re talking about people¡¯s livelihoods, their entire sense of financial security. This isn¡¯t some academic exercise, Director.¡±

    Roylan maintained his stoic expression, though his tone grew sharper. ¡°Madam Prime Minister, I do not make these statements lightly. Economic progress often necessitates difficult transitions. Those who resist modernization¡ªbe it through fear, mistrust, or stubborn adherence to outdated practices¡ªinevitably fall behind. It is not my role to shield them from that reality but to ensure that the broader economy benefits.¡±

    Ries¡¯ eyes narrowed as she leaned forward. ¡°Say, Director, what do you think of Dr. Breck and Professor Malreych?¡±

    A flicker of something¡ªinterest, perhaps¡ªpassed behind Roylan¡¯s otherwise deadpan expression. ¡°Ah, yes, I have read their works. Both are thought-provoking in their own ways, though their approaches are markedly divergent.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Ries replied, noting the faint change in his tone. ¡°Both have provided their versions of economic reform, and now it¡¯s on me to decide which path the Empire should follow. As an expert, I want your assessment. What are the positives and negatives of their proposals?¡±

    Roylan straightened slightly, his hands clasping behind his back as he began his dissection of the two theories. ¡°Dr. Breck¡¯s proposal, to put it plainly, is a monetarist strategy rooted in Keynesian principles. His emphasis on aggressive liquidity injection into the economy is intended to stimulate immediate consumption and investment. By flooding the market with currency and loosening monetary policy, he aims to counteract stagnation and encourage private sector growth. In theory, this approach would spur a short-term boom in economic activity.¡±

    He paused, his tone growing colder. ¡°However, the risks are manifold. Excessive liquidity without corresponding production capacity leads to inflationary spirals, devaluation of currency, and speculative bubbles in key sectors. The economic vitality gained could be short-lived, followed by severe contractions once the artificial stimulation wears off. Furthermore, this approach heavily relies on trust in the government¡¯s monetary authority¡ªa trust that, as we¡¯ve discussed, is far from absolute.¡±

    Ries tilted her head, her tail slowing as she absorbed his analysis. ¡°And Malreych?¡±

    Roylan adjusted his glasses, his voice taking on a measured cadence. ¡°Professor Malreych¡¯s economic philosophy is grounded in austerity and rigorous fiscal discipline. He advocates for a drastic reduction in government expenditures, an aggressive focus on eliminating deficits, and a commitment to a balanced budget. At its core, his belief is that economic stability is achieved not by stimulating demand but by curtailing unnecessary spending and fostering self-reliance among the populace.¡±

    He paused, allowing his words to settle before continuing. ¡°Under Malreych¡¯s model, the government would withdraw from many facets of the economy, placing the burden of financial responsibility squarely on the shoulders of private entities and citizens. Taxes on wealth would increase significantly in an effort to address inequality, yet this would be counterbalanced by the near-total elimination of social safety nets and subsidies. He envisions a society governed by what he calls ¡®natural economic order,¡¯ where only the strongest and most efficient enterprises survive, resulting in what he describes as a ¡®purified¡¯ economy.¡±

    ¡°The immediate impact would be catastrophic for those already vulnerable. Mass layoffs in government-dependent industries, the collapse of welfare systems, and widespread insolvencies are all likely outcomes in the short term. While Malreych argues this pain is a necessary corrective to decades of fiscal mismanagement, the social and political consequences¡ªprotests, unrest, possibly even rebellion¡ªcannot be understated.¡±

    Ries¡¯s tail lashed slightly. ¡°So, his plan is to tear everything down and hope what¡¯s left standing is strong enough to survive?¡±

    ¡°That is a fair simplification,¡± Roylan admitted. ¡°While the long-term goal is a leaner, more efficient economic system, the immediate transition would be ruthless. It is, in essence, an economic purging¡ªa baptism by fire, if you will.¡±

    Ries leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing as she mulled over his words. ¡°So I presume the Central Bank has a better alternative?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Roylan replied, his tone sharpening. ¡°The Central Bank¡¯s approach is designed to balance stability with gradual reform. We neither indulge in excessive stimulus nor resort to draconian austerity. Instead, we aim to implement steady, sustainable measures that prioritize monetary stability and economic growth.¡±

    Ries leaned back. ¡°Clarissa?¡±

    ¡°Your call, Madam.¡±

    Ries sighed, her fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. Her tail curled around the leg of her chair as she leaned her head back, staring at the ornate ceiling of her office.

    Each proposal felt like choosing a path through a forest riddled with traps.

    Breck¡¯s Stimulus Plan would allow a flood of capital to jumpstart the economy. It sounded tempting on paper: an immediate surge of activity, jobs, and optimism. But the cost was staggering. The empire¡¯s coffers were not bottomless, and printing more Virs¡ªif they even should do it¡ªcould spiral into hyperinflation if mishandled. Breck¡¯s optimism bordered on recklessness, and her gut told her that such a gamble could backfire catastrophically.

    The people might love it at first, but what happens when the illusion of wealth fades, leaving behind a hollowed economy?

    Malreych''s plan on the other hand¡­ well, let¡¯s keep it this way. You steal from a man of his food, clothes, shelter, and work. Then what?

    Austerity would mean tearing apart the Empire piece by piece. Taxes would crush the wealthy, and social programs¡ªthe lifeline of the vulnerable¡ªwould be severed entirely. Slashes to the budget would put millions of government workers on the streets.

    The government is already massive as it is, and on a good day, they¡¯ll be only moderately losing money, instead of just losing money. Governments are not corporations, they couldn¡¯t simply slash expenses to turn a profit. A strong, well-funded government was the backbone of stability, not an enemy to be dismantled.

    The Central Bank¡¯s plan, while unremarkable, offered a glimmer of sanity. It wasn¡¯t flashy or revolutionary, but it also didn¡¯t gamble the Empire¡¯s future. Gradual reforms, fiscal prudence, and a focus on stability might not win headlines, but they could steady the ship. It wouldn¡¯t solve everything¡ªnot immediately¡ªbut it wouldn¡¯t set the Empire ablaze either.

    Her voice broke the silence. ¡°We¡¯re going with the Central Bank¡¯s plan.¡±

    Clarissa looked up and nodded quickly. ¡°Understood, Madam Prime Minister.¡±

    ¡°I know it won¡¯t bring immediate relief. People will still suffer, and the economy won¡¯t bloom overnight. But stability is what we need.¡±

    Roylan adjusted his glasses. ¡°A wise choice, Madam. Stability might not be glamorous, but it is the foundation upon which progress is built.¡±

    Ries stood, her tail swishing slowly behind her. ¡°Director, I appoint you as temporary Economic Affairs Minister.¡±

    With that, she left the conference room, with Clarissa following suit. Leaving behind a rather startled Royland at the announcement.

    <hr>

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    Repeat.

    That has been Ries¡¯ daily life ever since the war, especially after the war started. The rebellions only added more burden to her already burdened shoulders. Who knew running a nation could be so... draining? She had voiced that sentiment countless times, but the reality of it never ceased to astonish her.

    Why couldn¡¯t she delegate everything to her subordinates and live the life of a lazy, decadent noble? It was an appealing thought. Lounging idly, indulging in luxury while others handled the tedium of governance. But of course, that was a fantasy. Even the laziest of nobles, hidden behind their titles, had to work tirelessly to maintain their status in the cutthroat world of aristocratic politics.

    ¡°Heavy is the head that wears the crown?¡± She muttered under her breath, reaching for yet another stack of documents that demanded her review and signature. This time, it was a proposal to cut public school funding by one-and-a-half percent. A tiny figure on paper¡ªuntil you realized that one-and-a-half percent amounted to three hundred million Virs.

    The phrase, usually reserved for sovereigns like the Empress, resonated with her more and more these days. As Prime Minister, the weight of running the government¡ªand by extension, the Empire¡ªfelt no less daunting than wearing a crown.

    What does the Empress even do nowadays? Watch and do nothing? Even as her realm is being torn apart from the inside?

    The thought was bitter, but Ries quickly dismissed it. No¡­ The Empress was not idle. If anything, she was the only legitimacy holding this empire together. Her presence was a living embodiment of order in chaos, the pillar that kept the Empire from splintering into irreparable pieces.

    She knew the truth, though it was hard to admit sometimes. The Empress wasn¡¯t oblivious to the turmoil. She was carefully orchestrating a delicate balance, her hand guiding from behind the veil of courtly grandeur. Every decree, every appearance, was calculated to preserve stability.

    And yet, it often felt like the real burden of action¡ªthe endless drudgery of governance¡ªfell squarely on Ries'' shoulders.

    Now she knew why she never fully abolished the office of Prime Minister¡­

    The Empress didn¡¯t want to govern; she wanted to advise. It made her less of a ruler and more of an omnipotent consultant¡ªone who could remove you at will if you misstepped.

    Ries stamped the document regarding the reduction of public school funding with a decisive "DENIED." She stared at the bold letters for a moment before setting it aside and pulling the next paper into view.

    ¡°Deregulation of the Pharmaceutical Industry.¡± Lovely.

    She checked her wristwatch. Almost 3 p.m. Lord-Marshal Fountainne had invited her to the outskirts for weapon testing. The army had apparently captured a handful of Daemon landships and had begun reverse-engineering them.

    Ries stood, stretched, and slipped on her coat. Clarissa wasn¡¯t around to accompany her¡ªoff overseeing yet another meeting that, thankfully, Ries didn¡¯t have to attend.

    ¡°Where to, Madam?¡± the chauffeur asked, opening the automobile¡¯s door.

    ¡°The military base on the outskirts,¡± Ries said as she stepped into the automobile. The soft leather of the seat felt welcoming after hours hunched over her desk. She adjusted her coat and leaned back, letting her thoughts drift as the vehicle pulled away from the Prime Minister¡¯s residence.

    She had practically moved into the residence now, though the thought of her own home nagged at her. Who was that Siren again? Ilya, right? Her maid. Ries couldn¡¯t remember the last time she¡¯d seen her.

    The streets of Valyra were a mixture of old and new, a mosaic of the Empire¡¯s identity. Trams rattled alongside horse-drawn carriages, while the occasional automobile zipped past, their engines breaking the ambient noise of the bustling city. The winter chill seeped through the glass, fogging the edges of the windows as Ries stared outside.

    One sight, however, pulled Ries from her reverie. Soup kitchens. Lines of people¡ªHumans and non-humans alike¡ªsnaked around the buildings, waiting for a warm meal.

    The rebellions had disrupted food supply routes from the central provinces, leaving parts of the Empire teetering on the edge of famine. Provincial authorities were scrambling to restore order, but logistics remained a nightmare. As if that weren¡¯t enough, reports of Beastmen tribal raids had begun trickling in. While provincial forces did their best to contain the situation, the resurgence was another problem demanding attention.

    The car bumped slightly as it transitioned from cobblestone streets to smoother asphalt. Ries glanced at her wristwatch again. Almost there.

    When the automobile rolled to a stop, a soldier approached and saluted. ¡°Madam Prime Minister, welcome. Lord-Marshal Fountainne is waiting at the testing grounds.¡±

    Ries stepped out, pulling her coat tighter against the wind. ¡°Lead the way.¡±

    The soldier guided her through the base. Rows of soldiers drilled in the snow, their breath misting in the cold air. Mechanics swarmed over machines that glinted faintly in the pale light. At the center of the testing grounds was a hulking monstrosity of metal¡ªclearly a Daemon landship, though altered in ways that made it seem even more menacing.

    ¡°Prime Minister,¡± Fountainne greeted. ¡°You¡¯re just in time. We¡¯re about to begin the demonstration.¡±

    ¡°What exactly have you done to it?¡± Ries asked, eyeing the landship.

    ¡°Well, we have figured out how it works and what it¡¯s made of,¡± Fountainne said, gesturing towards the machine. ¡°This one is a prototype of a landship of our own.¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow. ¡°Really now?¡±

    ¡°Please, Lord-Marshal,¡± a voice interjected, cutting through the conversation, ¡°leave the technical details to those of us who actually do the work. No offense meant, of course.¡±

    Both Ries and Fountainne turned to see a mechanic stepping forward, a grease-stained wrench in one hand and a confident smirk on his face.

    The nametag on his uniform read, Sergeant Lyle Covar.

    Ries folded her arms. ¡°Alright, Sergeant Covar, enlighten me. What makes this prototype ours, rather than just a Daemon scrap heap with a fresh coat of paint?¡±

    Covar smirked, tucking the cloth into his belt. ¡°For starters, ma¡¯am, we¡¯ve ripped out their rather outdated engine with more modern diesel-based engine. As for the armor, the original was mostly plated with Mithril¡ªa great material, sure, but one we don¡¯t have in abundance. We¡¯ve swapped it for a composite steel alloy. Easier to produce and repair in the field.¡±

    Ries tilted her head slightly. ¡°Won¡¯t that reduce its overall durability?¡±

    ¡°Marginally, yes,¡± Covar admitted, ¡°but we¡¯ve layered the plating to compensate. It¡¯s still tough as nails, and it¡¯s a hell of a lot lighter. That weight reduction improves maneuverability, which is something the original model lacked.¡±

    Ries arched an eyebrow. ¡°Go on.¡±

    ¡°Gladly,¡± Covar said, his smirk widening. ¡°We¡¯ve also upgraded the weapon systems. The original cannons were 75mm, decent firepower, but their secondary weapons were just two 8mm machine guns. That¡¯s fine for suppressing infantry, but not much else. Our prototype has a redesigned turret housing an 88mm cannon with better range and armor-piercing capabilities. The secondary armaments? Twin-mounted 12.7mm heavy machine guns for infantry suppression.¡±

    Ries glanced at the prototype, then to the original design.

    ¡­ what?

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but that looks like a monstrosity.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Covar looked to the prototype.

    ¡°I mean, the original one had those two cannons on both side of the landship, but¡­ our redesign is a bulky, top-heavy behemoth,¡± Ries said, gesturing emphatically toward the prototype. ¡°It looks like someone just slapped a massive turret on top and called it a day.¡±

    Covar chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. ¡°Function over form, ma¡¯am. The turret allows for a full 360-degree rotation and significantly improved firing angles. The original design¡¯s side-mounted cannons were limited in their range of motion. This setup is far more versatile.¡±

    Ries raised a skeptical eyebrow. ¡°Versatile? Sure. Stable? I¡¯m not so convinced. Have you tested how this thing handles uneven terrain with all that weight up top?¡±

    Covar winced slightly. ¡°We¡¯ve reinforced the suspension system and lowered the center of gravity as much as possible. It¡¯s... still a work in progress.¡±

    Fountainne cleared his throat. ¡°Madam Prime Minister, I assure you that any structural issues will be addressed in the final design. The prototype is meant to push boundaries, not necessarily to look pretty. Think of it as¡­ a wonder weapon.¡±

    ¡°Seriously? A wonder weapon?¡± Ries pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. ¡°I¡¯m not asking for pretty, Lord-Marshall. I¡¯m asking for practicality. If this thing tips over in the heat of battle, its firepower won¡¯t mean a damn thing.¡±

    Covar straightened up, his tone more resolute. ¡°Understood, ma¡¯am. We¡¯ll run additional stability tests and adjust the design as needed. But I think you¡¯ll find its firepower more than makes up for any aesthetic concerns.¡±

    ¡°Firepower isn¡¯t everything,¡± Ries muttered, glancing back at the machine. ¡°But fine. Let¡¯s see it in action.¡±

    Covar and Fountainne escorted her to a viewing platform overlooking the testing grounds. Below, the crew entered the prototype landship, its engine roaring to life. The hulking vehicle began to move, its treads grinding against the earth as it turned to face a distant target, a decommissioned Daemon landship set up for testing.

    The platform vibrated slightly under the engine¡¯s power. Ries crossed her arms, her gaze locked on the scene unfolding below. ¡°What¡¯s the range to that Daemon landship?¡± she asked.

    Covar consulted a rangefinder operator stationed nearby, who quickly relayed the information. ¡°Approximately 1,200 meters, Madam Prime Minister. Well within the effective range of the 88mm cannon.¡±

    Ries hummed.

    Covar spoke into the radio to the crew inside the landship. ¡°This is Covar. Target is set at 1,200 meters. Prepare to fire the main cannon. Let¡¯s show the Prime Minister what this beast can do.¡±

    A crackling response came through the radio. ¡°Acknowledged, Sergeant. Adjusting turret and calibrating for distance.¡±

    The turret of the landship rotated slowly to align with the distant Daemon landship. Ries observed in silence, her feline ears flicking slightly at the sound. She caught every detail, the precision of the turret¡¯s movement, the steady hum of the engine, and the faint chatter of the crew inside. ¡°It¡¯s steady enough,¡± she remarked, ¡°but let¡¯s see if it hits anything.¡±

    Covar glanced at her, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°You won¡¯t be disappointed, ma¡¯am.¡±

    The operator inside called out through the radio. ¡°Target locked. Firing in three... two... one...¡±

    The cannon roared, the force of the blast shaking the ground and sending a plume of smoke and dust billowing from the landship¡¯s barrel. The projectile tore through the air, a streak of fire and fury that struck the target with pinpoint accuracy.

    The decommissioned Daemon landship exploded in a deafening boom, its shattered remnants raining down onto the field in a cascade of fire and twisted metal.

    ¡°Direct hit!¡± the radio crackled with a cheer from the crew.

    Ries raised an eyebrow, her tail flicking thoughtfully behind her.

    Covar turned to her, a triumphant grin on his face. ¡°How¡¯s that, Madam Prime Minister? Quite the show, huh?¡±

    ¡°Mhm¡­¡± Ries¡¯ eyes shifted to him, her expression skeptical despite the display. ¡°What kind of ammunition does it use? Because from where I¡¯m standing, this looks less like the moving fortress the Daemons designed and more like a glorified mobile heavy artillery piece.¡±

    Covar opened his mouth to respond, but Ries cut him off. ¡°While we¡¯re on the subject, let¡¯s talk logistics. How much does this thing weigh? How expensive is it to produce? How safe is it for the crew? And most importantly, how does it perform in actual combat conditions?¡±

    The sergeant¡¯s grin was replaced by a more serious demeanor. ¡°Currently, we use a modified artillery shell as its ammunition. As¡ª¡±

    ¡°What artillery? What model?¡±

    Covar hesitated for a moment before replying. ¡°It¡¯s based on the 88mm shells used by our standard heavy field artillery, Madam Prime Minister. We¡¯ve adapted them for the landship¡¯s cannon, tweaking the propellant and casing to optimize the range.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re relying on existing designs. I suppose that¡¯s cost-effective, but doesn¡¯t it limit the potential of this so-called prototype? How does it compare to Daemon-grade firepower?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a perfect match for their enchanted ammunition, but what it lacks in magical augmentation, it makes up for with reliability and ease of production. A steady supply of shells is better than a few superior ones we can¡¯t replace.¡±

    Ries crossed her arms, her eyes flicking to the landship again. ¡°And the cost? How much does each shell set us back? How does that compare to what we¡¯d lose if this thing is taken out?¡±

    Covar glanced at Fountainne, who stepped forward. ¡°The shells are roughly 15% more expensive than standard 88mm artillery rounds due to the modifications. The landship itself is a significant investment, but its modular design means we can repair and refit it in the field with minimal downtime. Losses are always a concern, but the idea is that its firepower and durability will more than compensate.¡±

    Ries tapped a finger against her arm, her skepticism softening slightly. ¡°Alright. You¡¯ve justified the ammo and design for now. But if this thing doesn¡¯t prove itself in live combat, I¡¯ll consider it a very expensive failure. How much does it weigh?¡±

    Covar¡¯s posture stiffened, and he cleared his throat before speaking. ¡°Currently, it weighs just under 50 tons, Madam Prime Minister. The composite steel armor and enhanced turret systems contribute significantly to that.¡±

    ¡°just under 50 tons? Just? And you¡¯re telling me this thing won¡¯t sink into soft ground or crush every bridge it crosses?¡±

    ¡°Uh well¡­ the suspension system has been reinforced to handle soft ground and uneven terrain. As for bridges¡­ we¡¯ve accounted for that in our logistical planning. The engineering corps is already working on identifying structurally sound crossing points and, where necessary, constructing temporary reinforcements.¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. ¡°So, we¡¯re not just designing landships but also reworking infrastructure to accommodate them? That doesn¡¯t exactly scream ¡®cost-effective¡¯ to me.¡±

    Fountainne stepped in smoothly, his voice measured. ¡°Madam Prime Minister, I understand your concerns, but this prototype isn¡¯t meant to be a one-size-fits-all solution. It¡¯s a breakthrough in battlefield dominance. The logistical challenges are an investment, not a flaw. The¡ª¡±

    Ries met the Lord-Marshall¡¯s gaze. ¡°Here¡¯s what you¡¯re gonna do, make another prototype that isn¡¯t an over the top wonder weapon. At least similar to the Daemon landships, but better.¡±

    Fountainne blinked, momentarily thrown off by Ries¡¯ blunt directive, but quickly regained his composure. ¡°A more practical prototype, you mean? One that prioritizes cost-effectiveness and versatility over sheer firepower?¡±

    Ries nodded. ¡°Exactly. Something we can mass-produce without bankrupting the treasury or rebuilding half the Empire¡¯s infrastructure. The Daemons'' landships are a nightmare, but they¡¯re practical nightmares. If we can outmatch them without reinventing the wheel, we¡¯ll have the upper hand.¡±

    Covar hesitated, glancing at Fountainne before speaking. ¡°Madam Prime Minister, scaling down the design would mean sacrificing some of the advanced features we¡¯ve developed¡ª¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you to scrap the whole damn thing,¡± Ries interrupted. ¡°Build five of these landships, but no more. After that, focus on something we can actually afford to mass-produce. Speaking of which, how much does one of these cost?¡±

    Covar visibly tensed. ¡°The current prototype¡¯s production cost is approximately 1.2 million Golden Virs per unit, Madam Prime Minister.¡±

    ¡°1.2 million? That¡¯s more than enough to fund an entire battalion for a year. You¡¯re telling me we could lose one of these in a single engagement and be out that much?¡±

    Fountainne stepped in, his tone diplomatic. ¡°It¡¯s true that the cost is high, but you must consider the strategic advantage it offers. The firepower and survivability of this landship could tip the scales in a decisive battle, potentially saving countless lives and resources in the long term.¡±

    Ries let out a long breath, rubbing her temples. ¡°Lord-Marshall, I appreciate your optimism, but wars aren¡¯t won with single pieces of equipment. They¡¯re won by armies that can adapt, endure, and outlast the enemy. Five of these? Fine. They¡¯ll serve as specialized units. But after that, we focus on something practical, scalable, and sustainable. Is that clear?¡±

    Covar and Fountainne exchanged a glance before nodding. ¡°Understood, Madam Prime Minister,¡± Fountainne said.

    Ries let out a sigh, her ears twitching slightly. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll approve a 500 million Virs budget for a fleet of landships. How long will it take to produce those five heavy models?¡±

    ¡°At our current pace, we can complete them within three months,¡± Covar replied. ¡°As for the lighter landships, we¡¯ll need time to finalize their redesign first.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Ries said, her tone curt as she turned to the Lord-Marshall. ¡°Is there anything else in the pipeline? Any more ¡®prototypes¡¯ you wanted me to evaluate?¡±

    Fountainne¡¯s face brightened slightly as he gestured to a nearby table. ¡°Yes, actually. We¡¯ve been working on a new rifle model, one we aim to begin mass-producing by the start of next month.¡±

    He picked up a sleek wooden-stocked rifle, holding it with practiced ease as he aimed down the sights. ¡°This is the Alfryn rifle, named after its inventor, Major-General Varvik Alfryn. It¡¯s commonly referred to as the AR-1258. A bolt-action firearm designed with improved accuracy and reliability¡ª¡±

    ¡°And what sets it apart from the rifles we¡¯re already using?¡± Ries interrupted, her arms crossed as she scrutinized the weapon.

    Fountainne nodded, prepared for the question. ¡°Its primary advantage lies in its simplified design, which makes it easier and cheaper to mass-produce. It also uses a five-round internal magazine and features an enhanced bolt mechanism, allowing for quicker cycling between shots. In field tests, it¡¯s shown a significant improvement in accuracy at ranges up to 800 meters.¡±

    Covar added, ¡°It¡¯s chambered for a new round¡ªthe 7.62mm cartridge¡ªwhich offers better penetration against Daemon armor.¡±

    Ries raised an eyebrow. ¡°Better penetration is nice, but how does it handle in real conditions? Mud, rain, snow, and all the other charming features of a battlefield?¡±

    Fountainne chuckled lightly. ¡°We¡¯ve put it through stress tests in a variety of environments, and it¡¯s performed admirably. Of course, field performance during actual combat will be the ultimate test, but the AR-1258 has exceeded expectations so far.¡±

    ¡°Good. The last thing we need is an overhyped weapon that jams at the first sign of trouble.¡± Ries stepped closer, examining the rifle herself. ¡°What¡¯s the estimated cost per unit?¡±

    ¡°Approximately 175 Silver Virs per rifle,¡± Covar answered.

    Ries hummed thoughtfully. ¡°Affordable, at least. Fine. I¡¯ll authorize the production of these, but I want regular reports on their performance once they hit the field. Anything else you¡¯re eager to show off?¡±

    ¡°Nothing else, Madam,¡± Fountainne replied.

    ¡°Good. Report back to me after you¡¯ve made progress on both the heavy and light landship designs,¡± Ries said, handing the rifle back to Fountainne. Her tail flicked behind her as she added, ¡°And keep me informed on how the ML Rifles are performing during the first deployments. I¡¯m expecting efficiency, not excuses.¡±

    ¡°Understood, Madam Prime Minister,¡± Fountainne replied, bowing slightly before stepping back. Covar followed suit, his expression were one of relief.

    Ries turned on her heel, her boots crunching against the gravel as she walked away from the testing grounds.

    Another money sunk on another gamble¡­

    She was surprised the treasury could stomach all these beatings. Thankfully, the economy had already transitioned to a war footing, channeling resources and production capacity into the military machine. Civilian industries had been repurposed, luxury goods sidelined in favor of armaments, and labor conscripted into war work.

    Still, it wasn¡¯t a limitless pool.

    Although Professor Mayreich¡¯s austerity plan wasn¡¯t what she envisioned, she acknowledged the uncomfortable truth, that the fact the state needed every bit of money for the war effort. Simply handing out funds through government intervention wouldn¡¯t solve the underlying problem. The treasury couldn¡¯t keep bleeding resources without risking collapse.

    But instead of slashing budgets indiscriminately, why not raise funds from existing channels more strategically?

    Why not benefit more from a big government?

    She glanced at her wristwatch. 5 p.m.

    The day had dragged on, filled with arguments over prototypes, budget reports, and a growing sense that the Empire was teetering on the edge of an unsustainable spiral. Yet, the solution might lie not in cutting back but in expanding the state¡¯s reach.

    A centralized, war-driven government could wield immense power¡ªnot just for waging war but for ensuring efficiency and unity in the effort. Civilian industries had already been co-opted into the war economy. Why not extend that principle further?

    ¡°Where to, Madam?¡± the chauffeur asked as she approached the automobile.

    ¡°The Chambers of Commerce,¡± Ries replied as she slid inside.

    Yes, the government must reel in the Empire¡¯s vast private sector. By persuasion if possible¡ªby force if necessary.

    Ries leaned back in her seat as the automobile rumbled steadily through the city. The Chambers of Commerce were a bastion of wealth and influence, a collection of the Empire¡¯s most powerful merchants, industrialists, and financiers. his group of so-called "new men" were largely commoners who had climbed their way to the top and were the ones responsible to dethrone the aristocracy¡¯s deep-seated influence.

    They thrived on the Empire¡¯s success but balked at the sacrifices the war demanded. It was time to remind them that their fortunes were tied to the Empire¡¯s survival.

    When the automobile pulled up to the imposing structure that housed the Chambers of Commerce, Ries stepped out, her boots clicking against the cobblestones. The building¡¯s grandeur reflected its occupants¡¯ wealth¡ªa polished stone facade, intricate carvings, and gilded accents that gleamed in the evening light.

    Situated in the commercial heart of the city, it stood near the stock exchange, the central bank, and rows of luxury storefronts. This district, where high-stakes deals were brokered and fortunes made, was the wealthiest part of Valyra. Yet, it was curiously distant from the government district.

    Anyone with a discerning eye would notice the contrast of the city¡¯s center of commerce, where the lifeblood of the economy flowed, was conspicuously detached from the seat of governance. It was as if the elite sought to emphasize their independence¡ªor superiority¡ªover the state.

    Ries took in the sight with a flick of her tail, her expression betraying nothing. She adjusted her coat, the brisk evening air nipping at her skin, and strode confidently toward the grand entrance.

    Inside, the atmosphere was just as opulent as the exterior, with marble floors, soaring ceilings, and glittering chandeliers. The murmurs of conversation halted as she entered, her presence commanding immediate attention.

    If she weren¡¯t the Prime Minister, she knew exactly how this crowd would have reacted to her presence. She would have been dismissed as a "stray Beastman," lost in a human''s world¡ªor worse, assumed to be a penniless denizen, unworthy of acknowledgment.

    The crowd was diverse, a surprising mix of humans, dwarves, elves, Beastmen races, Aquis, some faeries, and Dracos. Here, wealth had erased the usual boundaries of race and class, at least among the attendees.

    After all, riches didn¡¯t discriminate, and neither did poverty.

    She was led through the sea of finely dressed figures to a raised podium at the far end of the room. The path seemed designed to emphasize her presence, to ensure that every eye in the chamber was fixed squarely on her by the time she reached her destination.

    Ries stepped up to the podium. She let her gaze sweep across the room, meeting the stares of the assembled merchants, industrialists, and financiers.

    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen,¡± she began. ¡°I thank you for your time this evening. I stand before you not as a guest but as a steward of this Empire¡ªan Empire that now finds itself at a critical juncture.¡±

    She paused, allowing her words to sink in. ¡°This war is not just a conflict of arms but a test of our collective strength and resolve. The choices we make here and now will determine the future of our nation¡ªand your fortunes.¡±

    Ries¡¯s tail swayed subtly as she continued. ¡°Many of you have thrived under the stability this Empire provides. Your businesses, your wealth, your influence¡ªthey are all products of an environment carefully maintained by the state. But stability is not self-sustaining. It requires effort, sacrifice, and, above all, unity.¡±

    She let her gaze linger on the crowd, gauging their reactions. Some nodded in agreement, others remained stoic, their expressions unreadable.

    ¡°The war has pushed us into unprecedented times,¡± she continued. ¡°The state has made significant investments to ensure our survival¡ªinvestments that benefit us all. Now, I ask for your cooperation to ensure those investments bear fruit. This is not merely a request; it is a necessity. We stand or fall together.¡±

    ¡°Hah!¡±

    A loud scoff shattered the silence, drawing every eye in the room. Ries¡¯s ears flicked at the sound, her gaze narrowing as a man stepped forward from the crowd.

    He was portly, with a self-assured gait that spoke of wealth and influence. His suit were meticulously tailored and adorned with a pocket watch chain of gleaming gold. His round face bore an expression of smug disdain as he moved closer to the podium, each step were intentionally heavy, as if to challenge her authority with his very presence.

    ¡°Well, well,¡± he began. ¡°The Prime Minister graces us with a lecture on unity and sacrifice. How touching.¡± He stopped a few paces from the podium, clasping his hands over his stomach.

    Ries¡¯ eyes remained fixed on him, her expression calm but her tail twitching in annoyance. She waited, letting the man speak, knowing it would be better to let him expose his intentions before responding.

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister,¡± he continued, emphasizing her title with a hint of mockery, ¡°we are not soldiers to be commanded or pawns to be manipulated. We are the lifeblood of this Empire¡¯s economy. Our enterprises fund your ambitions, our ingenuity drives progress, and our risk-taking creates the wealth you so generously spend.¡±

    He gestured grandly to the room, as if expecting applause. A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd, but most attendees remained silent, their eyes darting between the man and Ries.

    ¡°And now,¡± he went on, ¡°you stand here, demanding more from us? More labor, more resources, more compliance? All while you tighten your grip on the market and stifle the very freedoms that allow us to thrive? Tell me, Madam Prime Minister, how do you expect us to prosper under such oppressive conditions?¡±

    He paused, his chest puffed out as if he had just delivered a devastating blow. The room held its breath, waiting for Ries¡¯ response.

    She let the silence stretch for a little while longer before formulating a response. Beginning it with a slight dusting of imaginary dust from her shoulders and clearing her throat.

    ¡°You¡¯ve made your position quite clear,¡± she said calmly. ¡°But allow me to clarify mine.¡±

    Her gaze swept through the room. ¡°All businesses producing essential goods¡ªfood, clothing, medicines¡ªwill immediately have their prices fixed to ensure affordability for the war effort. Any attempts at profiteering will be met with swift consequences.¡±

    A murmur of shock rippled through the crowd, but Ries continued regardless.

    ¡°In addition, industries critical to the war¡ªsteel, coal, arms, and transportation¡ªwill come under state oversight. This is non-negotiable. The survival of the Empire takes precedence over individual fortunes.¡±

    She leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on the podium, her voice dropping to a chilling calm. ¡°Failure to comply with these measures will result in nationalization and charges of treason. If you refuse to act in the Empire¡¯s interest, then the Empire will act in yours. Your factories, your assets, your businesses¡ªthey will be seized, and you will be compensated only what the state deems fair.¡±

    Gasps echoed through the chamber, some in outrage, others in disbelief. The man who had spoken earlier stepped forward again, his face flushed with fury. ¡°This is tyranny!¡± he bellowed. ¡°You can¡¯t simply¡ª¡±

    Ries raised a hand, cutting him off with an almost casual gesture. ¡°Mr. Gelre, wasn¡¯t it?¡± she asked, her tone deceptively polite.

    The man hesitated. ¡°Y-yes,¡± he stammered.

    She offered him a thin, predatory smile. ¡°I¡¯m sure your petroleum company would appreciate a thorough audit by the Regulatory and Tax Office, wouldn¡¯t it? Perhaps a full inspection of your supply chains, pricing strategies, and employee contracts?¡±

    Gelre¡¯s face turned ashen, the implications of her words crashing down on him.

    ¡°Or,¡± she continued smoothly, ¡°we could dig into your government contracts. Ensure everything is in perfect order. After all, in wartime, any hint of inefficiency or profiteering could be construed as treason.¡±

    The silence that followed was deafening.

    ¡°I¡­ that won¡¯t be necessary,¡± Gelre muttered, his earlier bravado crumbling under her gaze.

    ¡°Good,¡± Ries said briskly, as if the matter were already settled. ¡°Because the Empire has no time for petty obstructionists. This is not a moment for personal gain¡ªit is a moment for survival. You would do well to remember that. She paused, letting her words sink in before adding with a faint smirk, ¡°as the saying goes, ¡®You scratch my back, I scratch yours.¡¯¡±

    A ripple of nervous snickers spread through the room, though whether from genuine amusement or tension was unclear.

    Ries leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on the podium. ¡°Now then,¡± she continued. ¡°I will open the floor to questions. But let me make one thing clear¡ªthis is not an invitation for debate. Ask for clarification, offer constructive suggestions, or voice your willingness to cooperate. Anything else will be treated as a waste of time, and believe me, I value my time.¡±

    The room shifted uneasily, eyes darting to one another as the attendees weighed their options. Finally, a hand rose near the back.

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister,¡± the voice began, belonging to a silver-haired man in a tailored suit. ¡°What guarantees can you provide that these measures will be temporary? That the government won¡¯t maintain this level of control after the war ends?¡±

    ¡°An excellent question,¡± she answered. ¡°The answer is simple; necessity dictates policy. The Empire has no interest in stifling its private sector once the war is won. But rest assured, this war must be won first. Stability breeds opportunity, and once peace is restored, so too will the balance of power.¡±

    Another hand shot up, this time from a younger woman near the front. ¡°Madam, will there be compensation for businesses forced to cap prices or repurpose operations for the war effort?¡±

    Ries gave a short nod. ¡°Reasonable compensation will be considered where appropriate, particularly for those who show initiative in supporting the Empire¡¯s goals. But make no mistake, this is not a charity. Cooperation is expected, and those who willingly contribute will find themselves better positioned in the post-war economy.¡±

    She spent another half an hour fielding questions from individuals she could only describe as insatiably self-serving.

    In more diplomatic terms? Representatives of the Empire¡¯s most industrious and ¡°ambitious¡± minds.

    Every question posed seemed to orbit around one central concern: their wealth. Not the survival of the Empire, not the lives of its people, but how their personal fortunes might be safeguarded during these turbulent times.

    By the time the session drew to a close, she could feel her patience getting to its limit. She forced a measured tone as she addressed the room one last time. ¡°I appreciate your concerns and your¡­ candor,¡± she said, her tail flicking in irritation despite her composed demeanor. ¡°But let me remind you once more, the success of this war effort depends on unified cooperation. Those who support the Empire now will find themselves invaluable partners in its future prosperity. Those who don¡¯t¡­¡± She let the sentence trail off, the unspoken consequence hanging heavily in the air.

    A wave of polite applause rippled through the room as she stepped away from the podium, though she could sense the mixture of resentment and unease simmering beneath the surface. It didn¡¯t matter. They would comply, either out of self-interest or fear.

    As she exited the chamber and descended the marble steps, Clarissa had appeared and waited near the automobile.

    ¡°You¡¯re back,¡± Ries said as she approached her.

    ¡°How did it go, Madam Prime Minister?¡± Clarissa asked cautiously, stepping aside as Ries climbed into the car.

    ¡°About as well as herding stray cats,¡± Ries muttered. ¡°They¡¯ll fall in line, though. They don¡¯t have much of a choice.¡±

    Clarissa slid in beside her and handed over the folder. ¡°Speaking of choices, these are the priority reports for tonight¡ªlabor statistics, supply chain bottlenecks, and the latest casualty figures from the front.¡±

    Ries opened the folder and scanned the first page, her brow furrowing. The numbers painted a grim picture.

    ¡°Anything else?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Clarissa replied hesitantly. ¡°The Empress requests your presence in the Elysium palace.¡±

    Ries sighed, closing the folder with a snap. ¡°Tell the Empress I¡¯ll go over there right away.¡±

    Clarissa nodded, scribbling a note. The automobile rumbled to life, carrying them away from the wealth-drenched heart of the city and toward the more utilitarian government quarter, and soon enough, the baroque-styled district of the Empress¡¯ palace.

    As the city lights blurred past, Ries stared out the window, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She had delivered her ultimatums, but the real battle was just beginning. Aligning the private sector, maintaining public morale, and ensuring the war machine didn¡¯t collapse under its own weight would require more than just words.

    Hopefully, if everything goes well, she could resolve the internal problems within the Empire and focus solely on the Daemons.

    Hopefully.

 Part XVII: Back in Business

    The Elysium Palace.

    A marvel of engineering and a symbol of the Empire¡¯s enduring might. Built centuries ago, it stood as both a fortress and a monument to the Empire¡¯s grandeur. Over the years, it had been renovated and expanded, with new wings and chambers seamlessly blending with its ancient foundations.

    This would be Ries¡¯ first time stepping inside it.

    The automobile rolled into a halt at the front door. A guard in a vibrant ceremonial uniform approached, his boots clicking against the cobblestones as he saluted. Without a word, he gestured for her to follow.

    The towering double doors swung open as they approached, pushed by two attendants who moved in perfect synchronization. The air inside was cool and fragrant, carrying the faint scent of lilies and aged wood.

    ¡°Welcome to Elysium Palace, Madam Prime Minister,¡± one of the attendants intoned with a practiced bow.

    Ries inclined her head in acknowledgment and stepped forward, her boots tapping softly against the marble floor. ¡°Her Majesty is awaiting you in the Solarium,¡± the guard informed her before stepping aside.

    An attendant motioned for her to follow, and Ries complied, her steps measured as she was led through a labyrinth of corridors.

    The palace was alive with muted activity. Courtiers whispered in alcoves, pages hurried with stacks of documents, and distant melodies from unseen musicians wafted through the air. Despite the controlled chaos, there was a serenity to the place, as if it is a different realm in of itself, far from the chaotic empire.

    The attendant opened the final set of doors, and Ries stepped into the Solarium. The evening sunlight streamed through walls of glass, illuminating a chamber that felt as if it floated above the gardens below. The Empress sat near a table set with tea and delicate pastries, her silhouette framed by the golden glow of the setting sun.

    ¡°Prime Minister,¡± the Empress intoned, her voice measured and precise, without looking up from the book she was reading. ¡°Welcome to Elysium. Pray, do be seated.¡±

    Ries approached the table, her boots clicking softly against the polished floor. She studied the Empress, a woman cloaked in layers of inscrutability, her regal demeanor betraying none of the burdens that surely accompanied her station. It was then she remembered she was near her age.

    Taking the offered seat, Ries placed her hands lightly on the table. ¡°Thank you, Your Majesty.¡±

    At last, the Empress set aside her book with a deliberate elegance, folding her hands atop it. ¡°Would you care for tea, water, or perhaps a touch of soda to enliven the moment?¡±

    ¡°Water would suffice, Your Majesty.¡±

    The Empress tilted her head. ¡°Come now, Lady Katzennia. A modicum of leisure would not wound thee. War demands fortitude, but fortitude oft withers when unaccompanied by reprieve.¡±

    Ries allowed herself a faint smile. ¡°In that case, tea, Your Majesty. Thank you.¡±

    With a graceful motion, the Empress gestured to an attendant who moved to pour the tea into an exquisitely painted porcelain cup.

    ¡°And so,¡± the Empress began, her tone shifting back to its customary authority as she leaned slightly back. ¡°To the matter at hand. You forwarded quite the array of decrees for my signature. I trust they are being implemented correctly, yes?¡±

    Ries met the Empress¡¯s gaze without hesitation. ¡°Yes, Your Majesty. The measures are already in motion, though the path ahead is neither simple nor smooth. Resistance lingers, but progress is undeniable.¡±

    The Empress raised her porcelain cup to her lips for a measured sip. Ries couldn¡¯t help but notice the faint fizzing sound, and a flicker of disbelief crossed her mind. Was that soda?

    She sets down her cup of soda. ¡°Resistance, indeed,¡± she echoed. ¡°I must confess, I do not appreciate my subjects, vassals, or what have you, rebelling over a few moments of adversity. Such insubordination lacks both reason and decorum.¡±

    There was much Ries wanted to say, words poised at the edge of her tongue. She longed to correct the Empress¡¯s perception of the unrest¡ªexplain how desperation, not defiance, often drove rebellion. But discretion held her back. This was neither the time nor the place to challenge the Sovereign of the Empire.

    ¡°True, Your Majesty,¡± she said instead, her tone carefully measured. ¡°As for the war¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes. I¡¯ve read and signed your decree for equal conscription among humans and non-humans. It¡¯s about time they contribute something to the Empire.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but as for the next step¡­¡±

    ¡°Mhm. I see¡­ I suppose a Beastmen would want their fellow kin to prosper as well. Yes, I¡¯ve read your proposal regarding the status of non-humans in this Empire.¡±

    Ries¡¯s feline ears twitched subtly, a flicker of irritation suppressed as she kept her posture composed. The Empress¡¯s words carried a certain sharpness disguised in aristocratic detachment, and though the statement wasn¡¯t entirely incorrect, it felt dismissive.

    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty,¡± Ries replied carefully, her voice even. ¡°The proposal seeks to address longstanding inequities, ones that, if left unresolved, could undermine the very unity we seek to maintain in these trying times.¡±

    The Empress leaned back in her chair as she hummed. ¡°Unity is a fine word, Prime Minister, but it is one oft overused. Non-humans have long been a part of this Empire, yet you suggest we are only now at risk of disunity? Elaborate.¡±

    ¡°Your Majesty, the war demands sacrifices from all citizens, human and non-human alike. Yet, many non-humans remain relegated to second-class status. Their contributions are taken, but their rights are withheld. This imbalance breeds resentment, and resentment festers. My proposal is not charity, it is pragmatism. To demand their loyalty, we must also grant them dignity.¡±

    ¡°loyalty, dignity¡­ lofty words. But tell me, Prime Minister, are you acquainted with the concept of the Social Contract?¡±

    Ries blinked, taken aback by the unfamiliar term. ¡°I¡ªno, Your Majesty. What is it?¡±

    ¡°The Social Contract, Prime Minister, is an ancient precept, wrought by the minds of great philosophers. It asserts that the legitimacy of any ruling authority resides in an implicit agreement with its subjects. In surrendering a portion of their freedoms to the state, the governed receive, in exchange, protection, stability, and justice. Should the state falter in its obligations, the governed find cause to challenge its supremacy.¡±

    Ries tilted her head, her tail swishing softly behind her. ¡°I see¡­ And you believe this concept applies to the Empire?¡±

    The Empress allowed a faint, enigmatic smile to grace her lips. ¡°To a measure, yes. The Empire is, as thou well knowest, no republic of commoners. Ours is a realm built upon divine mandate and inherited station, where the vicissitudes of human¡ªor non-human¡ªaspiration must bend to the imperatives of order. Yet even so, their wisdom does resonate. No crown, however bejeweled, may endure upon coercion alone. A balance must be struck, a tacit accord maintained between sovereign and subjects. Should that balance teeter, cracks shall mar the very foundations of my dominion.¡±

    The Empress¡¯s tone shifted slightly, a thread of iron threading through her mellifluous words. ¡°And thus, we come to the matter of the Valyryan nation-state. You are no doubt aware that despite our cartographic centralization and ostensible governance, the Empire is far from a cohesive entity. It is a collection of protectorates, vassal kingdoms, and tributaries, all bound to us by centuries-old agreements and treaties. Yet, they remain precisely that¡ªprotectorates, not integral provinces of the Empire," she paused. ¡°Your recent legislation¡ªwhich, forgive me, I recall only in part¡ªproposed the outright nullification of these protectorates¡¯ political autonomy and their forced annexation into the greater realm. Such audacity, Prime Minister, does kindle the fires of insurrection. It is no small wonder that rebellion has reared its head amongst them.¡±

    ¡°Yet, Your Majesty, if I may¡ªwas it not upon your directive that I undertook this course of action?¡±

    The Empress¡¯s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile as she reached for her porcelain cup, the gentle fizz of the soda within softly punctuating the room¡¯s silence. She took a measured sip, savoring the effervescent sweetness before setting the cup back upon its saucer. ¡°Indeed, I did,¡± she acknowledged.

    ¡°However,¡± she continued, her gaze locking onto Ries, ¡°it is the hallmark of a capable Head of Government to discern not only the letter but also the spirit of her sovereign¡¯s decrees. My directive was issued with the foresight that such measures would incite resistance¡ªresistance that, once quelled, shall leave a blank slate upon which to inscribe my will. For it is through fire and ash that the most enduring foundations are oft laid.¡±

    ¡°Your Majesty intends to use the defeat of the insurrectionists as a means to reshape the Empire entirely?¡±

    ¡°Precisely,¡± the Empress affirmed. ¡°After their rebellion is extinguished¡ªthoroughly and unequivocally¡ªtheir lands shall lie fallow for my vision to take root. For the first time in the annals of our history, the Empire shall stand not as a fractured assemblage of protectorates but as a singular entity, bound by and answerable solely to the Crown.¡±

    She paused for emphasis. ¡°I task you with the governance of these territories and the drafting of the relevant laws to solidify this decision. Thank you most graciously in advance, Prime Minister.¡±

    Ries resisted the urge to sigh aloud, though her tail gave a single twitch of frustration. Ugh¡­ more paperwork. Instead, she maintained her composure, forcing a polite smile. ¡°Of course, Your Majesty. I would be honored to undertake this responsibility.¡±

    The Empress hummed softly, her expression unusually light, almost approachable. A stark contrast to her usual imperious demeanor. It struck Ries as odd. She wasn¡¯t particularly close to the Empress, nor did she expect such an unguarded moment in a formal setting.

    Taking the delicate porcelain teacup in hand, Ries prepared to sip her tea, hoping it would buy her a moment to process the mountain of responsibility just thrust upon her.

    ¡°Have you considered a suitor for your hand in marriage?¡± the Empress asked, her tone deceptively casual.

    PFFRT.

    Ries choked, sputtering as she hastily set the cup down to avoid spilling it. Coughing into her hand, she blinked at the Empress, thoroughly caught off guard. ¡°Pardon me, Your Majesty¡ªwhat did you say?¡±

    The Empress tilted her head with a faint smirk. ¡°Oh, come now, Lady Katzennia. Let us not pretend we are strangers to such matters. Unless, of course, you are one of those who fancies women, in which case¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, no!¡± Ries interrupted hastily, her ears flattening in embarrassment. ¡°I just¡­ why bring this up so suddenly?¡±

    The Empress raised an elegant brow, reclining slightly in her chair. ¡°Why not? You are a noble now, whether you like it or not. Beastman or not, you hold a position of prominence and influence, much like myself. Surely you must have noticed that men can be as predatory as wolves when faced with women in such positions.¡±

    Ries fumbled for a response. ¡°I¡­ suppose I¡¯ve been too busy with my duties to think about such things.¡±

    ¡°Ah, the curse of the diligent. Yet, even amidst the affairs of state, one mustn¡¯t neglect matters of personal import. A strong alliance can often begin with a union of hearts, or at the very least, a marriage of convenience. Tell me, Lady Katzennia, is there truly no one who has caught your eye?¡±

    Ries shifted uneasily, feeling the weight of the Empress¡¯s expectant gaze. ¡°Your Majesty, I¡¯m hardly in a position to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Nonsense,¡± the Empress interjected, waving a hand. ¡°You are precisely in such a position. Marriage is more than sentiment, my dear; it is a tool, a bond, and occasionally a weapon. Whether for love or strategy, it is not a matter to be dismissed lightly. Consider it carefully, for the Empire watches its nobility closely.¡±

    Ries glanced down at her tea, her thoughts swirling. She hadn¡¯t anticipated this turn in their conversation, nor the implications it carried. She decided to turn the tables on her.

    ¡°What about you, then, Your Majesty?¡±

    The Empress¡¯s smile deepened, her sharp eyes glittering with amusement as she reclined in her seat. ¡°Ah, Lady Katzennia, a bold counter indeed. But I expected no less from someone of your forthright nature.¡±

    She picked up her teacup with deliberate grace, taking a delicate sip before continuing. ¡°My own circumstances are quite different, as you might imagine. The crown is not merely a mantle I wear but a burden I bear. Any union I might entertain would be weighed not by matters of the heart but by the balance of power, the security of the realm, and the legacy of the throne.¡±

    Ries¡¯s ears twitched as she studied the Empress, sensing layers of meaning behind her words. ¡°That sounds¡­ rather lonely, Your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°Quite. But¡­ I can bend the rules to my will sometimes, if not every time. I am still the Empress, after all.¡± She smiled.

    ¡°So¡­ is there anyone who caught your attention?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. It is a Valkorian noble¡ªcharming, astute, and uniquely¡­ challenging.¡± Her tone lingered on the last word, laden with intrigue. She set her teacup down with a soft clink. ¡°Of course, should such a union come to pass, he would merge his House into the greater Imperial fold. It would be less a marriage of equals and more¡­ an absorption. Yet, his willingness to relinquish such autonomy intrigues me, as does his mind.¡±

    Ries tilted her head slightly. ¡°It seems this Valkorian noble has earned more than a passing thought from you, Your Majesty. A rare feat, I presume.¡±

    ¡°Rare, indeed,¡± the Empress admitted, her voice carrying a lightness that hinted at a deeper amusement. ¡°He is not without his flaws, of course¡ªwhat man is? But his sharpness, his wit, and his vision for the future of his people align, at least in part, with the aspirations I hold for the Empire. It is a rare thing to find someone who can stand in my shadow without faltering.¡±

    Ries allowed herself a small smile, though her mind turned to the broader implications of such a union. ¡°And does he know of your¡­ inclinations toward this arrangement?¡±

    The Empress chuckled softly, an almost musical sound. ¡°He suspects, no doubt. Men of his ilk always fancy themselves at the center of schemes and ambitions, though whether his suspicion aligns with reality remains to be seen. For now, I watch and wait.¡±

    ¡°But now, let¡¯s talk about you. My tea party friends have put forward candidates for the suitors in your marriage.¡±

    Ries¡¯ face drops.

    Uh Oh.

    ¡°Uh¡­ suitors? Your Majesty, surely you jest.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I assure you, Lady Katzennia, I do not. You have risen swiftly to prominence, and as I have mentioned before, marriage is not merely a matter of sentiment but a strategic endeavor. Your new station demands careful consideration in all things¡ªincluding potential alliances.¡±

    ¡°With all due respect, Your Majesty, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m ready to entertain such notions. My responsibilities¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªare precisely why this matter cannot be ignored,¡± the Empress interjected smoothly. ¡°Your duties are vast, yes, but a strong alliance through marriage can only strengthen your position, both politically and personally. It is not about readiness, my dear, but necessity.¡±

    Ries¡¯s tail lashed once in protest, but she quickly suppressed her frustration. ¡°And these¡­ candidates? Who are they?¡±

    The Empress gestured with a graceful hand, summoning a servant who approached with a small silver tray. Upon it rested several sealed envelopes, each bearing the wax seal of a different noble house.

    ¡°These,¡± the Empress said, picking up one of the envelopes and examining it with faint amusement, ¡°are but a few of the names my dear friends have suggested. Lords, heirs, and even a few ambitious commoners who have risen to prominence. Each with their own¡­ charms and advantages.¡±

    Ries blinked, utterly at a loss. ¡°Commoners, Your Majesty?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± the Empress replied, her tone light. ¡°In these changing times, even the most traditional of us must acknowledge the value of talent and ambition, regardless of bloodline. Though, I would advise against it. I imagine you might find the more traditional candidates to your liking. Shall we begin with this one?¡± She extended the envelope toward Ries.

    Ries hesitated before accepting it, her hands lightly grazing the fine parchment as she broke the seal. Her eyes scanned the elegantly penned name and accompanying details.

    ¡°Lord Caelryc Varn, heir to the House of Varn,¡± she read aloud, her voice flat.

    The Empress tilted her head, a mischievous gleam in her eye. ¡°Handsome, well-educated, and notably an open-minded man. A charming suitor, no?¡±

    Ries suppressed a groan, her ears flicking back. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s¡­ adequate.¡±

    The Empress chuckled, clearly entertained by her discomfort. ¡°Oh, come now, Lady Katzennia. Do not dismiss the possibilities so quickly. Each of these names represents a path forward, not only for yourself but for your people. Consider them carefully.¡±

    Ries set the envelope down, her expression neutral but her tail betraying her irritation. ¡°I will give them due thought, Your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°Excellent,¡± the Empress said, her tone sweet with satisfaction. She reached for another letter, extending it toward Ries with an almost playful smile. ¡°Shall we continue?¡±

    Ries fought the urge to groan aloud, accepting the envelope with a tight-lipped nod.

    <hr>

    The rumble of the military convoy echoed through the barren, snow-dusted plains of the Empire¡¯s eastern provinces. The trucks carried not only weapons and supplies but a cargo infinitely more fragile, men conscripted to fill the Empire¡¯s insatiable demand for soldiers.

    Among them were Beastmen recruits, many of whom had been conscripted with little regard for their willingness to serve. They had passed basic training, their raw physical prowess sufficient to satisfy the instructors, but they were far from seasoned.

    The convoy¡¯s final destination wasn¡¯t the Daemon front¡ªat least, not yet. Officially, this deployment was a training exercise to harden the recruits and prepare them for the horrors to come. Unofficially, it was an assertion of Imperial dominance, part of a broader strategy to dismantle protectorate governments and ensure compliance. Every stop the convoy made served as a reminder that the Empire¡¯s grip on its territories was absolute.

    Leo was among the conscripts, his broad shoulders hunched as he sat uncomfortably on a wooden bench in the back of one of the trucks. His ursine ears twitched at every bump in the road, and his short, rounded tail swayed with restless unease. The frigid wind bit through the thin fabric of his uniform, but he barely noticed.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    He wasn¡¯t given much of a choice in the matter. Few of them were.

    The memory of his father¡¯s visit to his room played in his mind like a bad dream. His father had entered, his expression a mix of worry and resignation. For a moment, Leo had hoped it was a misunderstanding, but the words that followed crushed any such illusion.

    ¡°They came to the shop,¡± his father had said. ¡°Imperial soldiers. You need to report to the recruitment office. Failure to comply will¡­ we will be imprisoned.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m only sixteen,¡± Leo had protested, his voice cracking.

    ¡°You turned sixteen weeks ago,¡± his father had said bitterly. ¡°Old enough for the Empire, it seems.¡±

    Leo had tried to argue, but his father had stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s not about fairness, son. It¡¯s about survival. If you don¡¯t go, they¡¯ll come for the rest of us. We can¡¯t fight them. Not anymore¡­¡±

    So here he was, in the back of a truck, surrounded by strangers who looked as lost and fearful as he felt. Most were his age, though a few older men sat with grim expressions, their faces lined with years of hardship. Some of the Beastmen recruits whispered to each other in low tones, their tails twitching nervously.

    Leo looked down. Resting on his lap was a rifle. The weapon felt heavy, not just in weight but in significance. Its wooden stock was polished to a dull sheen, its long barrel glinting faintly in the dim light. It was the same kind of weapon his father had spoken of with disdain and anger¡ªthe weapon that had claimed the lives of countless tribesmen in their struggle against the Empire.

    And now, he bore the emblem of that same Empire, stitched crudely onto the chest of his ill-fitting uniform.

    ¡°Ah, the rifle,¡± a voice next to him murmured, breaking the silence. ¡°The great equalizer. A tool of power and oppression, but also of freedom, depending on whose hands hold it.¡±

    Leo turned his head, startled by the unexpected commentary. The speaker was another conscript, a Beastman like himself. He had sharp, fox-like features, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. His emerald eyes gleamed with a curious mix of mischief and melancholy.

    The Beastman offered a small, casual smile. ¡°Name¡¯s Mercurio. I¡¯m from Raguza.¡±

    Leo hesitated before replying. ¡°... You¡¯re conscripted too?¡±

    Mercurio chuckled, a sound that was somehow both genuine and bitter. ¡°Not exactly. I volunteered¡­ sort of.¡±

    That snapped Leo out of his thoughts. ¡°You volunteered? Why would anyone do that? Wait¡ªwhere even is Raguza?¡±

    Mercurio leaned back, resting his arms behind his head as if they weren¡¯t crammed into the back of a military truck bound for an uncertain future. ¡°It¡¯s on the southern coast. Beautiful place¡ªwhite beaches, warm winds, the kind of sun that makes you forget all your troubles. You should visit sometime.¡±

    Leo stared at him, baffled. ¡°You make it sound like paradise. Why would you leave that behind to¡­ to this?¡± He gestured around the truck, at the rifle, the uniform, the bleakness of their shared reality.

    ¡°Paradise, huh? It¡¯s easy to call something paradise when you¡¯re not the one struggling to survive in it. Raguza might look beautiful, but life there isn¡¯t. Not if you¡¯re Beastman.¡±

    Leo frowned but didn¡¯t interrupt.

    ¡°The Empire and its consortium of not-so independent kingdoms controls the ports, the trade routes, everything,¡± Mercurio continued. ¡°If you¡¯re not part of the system¡ªif you¡¯re a nobody like me¡ªyou scrape by on crumbs. Joining the military? It¡¯s a way out, a way up. Maybe a way to make a difference, if I¡¯m lucky.¡±

    ¡°You think this¡­ this war will help you change anything?¡± Leo asked quietly.

    Mercurio shrugged, his grin returning, though it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°Maybe not. But doing nothing changes even less. Besides, I figured if I¡¯m going to fight, I might as well do it on my terms.¡±

    Leo didn¡¯t respond immediately. He looked down at the rifle in his lap again, the weight of it feeling heavier than ever.

    The truck jolted over a rough patch of road, drawing murmurs of discomfort from the recruits. Mercurio broke the silence again, his tone lighter this time.

    ¡°Anyway, what about you? What¡¯s your name?¡±

    Leo glanced at him, hesitant. ¡°My name¡¯s Leo¡ª¡±

    An explosion.

    The truck screeched to a halt, sending Leo and the others lurching forward. The acrid stench of burning fuel and scorched metal filled the air, mixing with the sharp tang of snow.

    "CONTACT!!" The shout of the human superior cut through the chaos like a blade. The front truck was a blazing inferno, its flames licking hungrily at the sky.

    "DISEMBARK, DISEMBARK! AT THE READY!"

    Leo¡¯s heart hammered in his chest as he scrambled to his feet, nearly losing his grip on the rifle. Around him, the recruits erupted into a cacophony of shouts and frantic movement, their inexperience laid bare. Some leaped from the truck with weapons drawn; others froze, their faces pale with fear.

    Mercurio grabbed Leo¡¯s arm, his eyes sharp and steady despite the chaos. "Move, Leo! Don¡¯t just sit there!"

    Leo swallowed hard and followed, jumping down into the knee-deep snow. The cold bit into his legs, but he barely noticed, his senses overwhelmed by the unfolding pandemonium.

    The convoy was under attack. Figures emerged from the treeline, cloaked in white to blend with the snow. The crack of gunfire echoed across the plains, bullets zipping through the air like angry wasps.

    Leo dropped into the snow for cover, fumbling with his rifle. His hands trembled as he pulled the bolt back, chambering a round.

    "Form a perimeter!" the superior barked, his voice strained but commanding. "Return fire! Hold your positions!"

    Mercurio crouched beside Leo, his own rifle at the ready. "Stay close. You shoot when they shoot at you, got it?"

    Leo nodded, his throat dry. He peeked over the edge of the snowbank, his eyes wide as he caught sight of the attackers. They moved with precision, their ambush well-rehearsed.

    "Who are they?" Leo muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

    Mercurio didn¡¯t look away from the fight. "Does it matter? Rebels, traitors, terrorists, whatever the empire wants dead¡ªthey want us dead. That¡¯s all you need to know."

    A bullet whizzed past, kicking up snow just inches from Leo¡¯s face. His heart leaped into his throat, and instinct took over. He raised his rifle and fired blindly toward the treeline.

    The recoil jarred his shoulder, the sharp crack of the shot ringing in his ears. He had no idea if he¡¯d hit anything, but the act of shooting sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins.

    ¡°I¡¯m reloading! Cover me!¡± Mercurio shouted, ducking behind the snowbank and fumbling with a fresh clip. "Keep your head down! Don¡¯t let them pin you!"

    Leo nodded, his movements jerky and panicked. He risked another glance over the edge of their cover. The treeline was alive, shadows flitting between the trees like wraiths, gunfire erupting from unseen figures.

    And then they charged.

    They came out of the treeline, their bodies low to the ground, their movements swift and calculated. Beastmen, unmistakably so¡ªbunny ears pricked upright, their faces twisted with fierce determination. Their weapons gleamed in the light; machetes, rifles fixed with bayonets, and axes.

    They were terrifyingly close, their speed defying belief.

    "Shit, they¡¯re rushing us!" Mercurio growled.

    Leo¡¯s stomach dropped. He barely had time to react. One of the assailants was bearing down on him, machete raised high. He raised his rifle, took aim, and fired.

    The man dropped mid-stride, crumpling into the snow like a broken marionette.

    Leo froze, the image searing into his brain¡ªthe wide eyes, the open mouth, the dark stain spreading beneath the lifeless body.

    "You froze?" Mercurio barked, yanking Leo back behind the snowbank. "Snap out of it! Put on the bayonet! NOW!"

    Leo fumbled with his gear, his fingers clumsy and numb with cold and fear. Mercurio had already affixed his own bayonet, rising from cover to plunge it into the chest of another charging attacker. The man let out a guttural scream, blood spraying across the pristine snow.

    The world seemed to narrow for Leo. The chaos around him blurred, leaving only the weight of the rifle in his hands and the dull clang as he secured the bayonet.

    The next assailant was on him before he could even think. A young woman, her eyes blazing with hatred, swung a hatchet at his head. He barely managed to raise his rifle, blocking the blow with a metallic clang that reverberated up his arms.

    She was stronger than she looked. She pushed against him, forcing him back into the snow. Desperation surged in his veins. He twisted the rifle and thrust the bayonet forward.

    It pierced flesh with a sickening squelch.

    The woman gasped, blood bubbling from her lips as she collapsed onto him.

    Leo screamed, more from shock than rage, and shoved her lifeless body away.

    Around him, the battle had devolved into brutal close quarters. Rifles were discarded in favor of blades and fists. Blood stained the snow, mingling with the screams of the dying.

    Mercurio was locked in a vicious struggle with another attacker, his rifle swinging wildly as he parried blows. "Leo!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Get your ass up and FIGHT!"

    Leo¡¯s legs felt like lead, but he staggered to his feet, clutching his rifle like a lifeline. His vision blurred, and his breaths came in ragged gasps, but he forced himself to move.

    A rebel burst through the melee, charging straight at him with a knife in hand.

    This time, Leo didn¡¯t freeze.

    He raised the rifle, sighted down the barrel, and pulled the trigger.

    The man crumpled instantly, his momentum carrying him forward before he hit the ground in a heap.

    Dead.

    Leo stared at the body, his hands trembling as the rifle¡¯s barrel smoked faintly in the cold air. He wanted to feel something¡ªrelief, fear, anything¡ªbut his mind was numb.

    Another rebel charged him before he could even think, he had feral eyes, and Leo¡¯s instincts kicked in, and he swung his rifle like a club, the butt smashing into the man¡¯s jaw with a sickening crunch.

    The rebel stumbled back, clutching his face, and Leo drove the bayonet into his gut, twisting as the man let out a strangled cry.

    "Keep moving!" Mercurio shouted, his voice strained as he finally felled his opponent. "They¡¯re trying to flank us!"

    Leo pulled his bayonet free, blood spurting across his hands, and stumbled forward. His boots slipped on the slick, gore-soaked snow, but he pressed on, his rifle gripped tightly in his bloodied hands.

    Leo and Mercurio trudged through the carnage, each step feeling heavier than the last. Around them, soldiers and rebels alike fell, their cries swallowed by the relentless chaos.

    Ahead, the human commander was crouched behind a shattered supply crate, barking orders into a crackling field radio.

    ¡°Commander!¡± Mercurio called out, dropping to one knee beside him. ¡°The rebels are closing in on our left flank! We need reinforcements, or we¡¯ll be overrun!¡±

    The commander snapped his gaze to Mercurio. ¡°Reinforcements?¡± he said, his voice bitter. ¡°The entire convoy, front to back, is under fire. There¡¯s no cavalry coming, boy. If you want to survive, you¡¯ll hold that flank yourself.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m promoting you both to sergeants,¡± the commander spat. ¡°Congratulations. Now act like it and get those men to hold the line.¡±

    Mercurio blinked, taken aback, but quickly recovered. ¡°Sergeants? Sir, we¡¯re barely¡ª¡±

    The commander cut him off with a glare. ¡°I don¡¯t care what you were yesterday. Right now, you¡¯re all I¡¯ve got. So, unless you want to die a private, get moving and lead.¡±

    Before either of them could protest further, an explosion rocked the ground nearby, sending shards of wood and snow flying through the air. The commander didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°Get to it, sergeants! Now!¡± he barked.

    Mercurio didn¡¯t wait for further orders. He grabbed Leo by the collar and yanked him toward the left flank. ¡°You heard him. Move your ass!¡±

    As they stumbled through the blood-soaked snow, the scene at the left flank came into view, a disorganized mess of Beastmen soldiers huddled behind scattered cover, their faces pale with fear. They were barely firing back, with most peeking over their makeshift barricades only to duck as bullets zipped past.

    ¡°Oi! Start firing back!¡± Mercurio yelled.

    A feline Beastman with twitching ears shot him a terrified look. ¡°Why should we?!¡± he shouted, his voice cracking. ¡°This isn¡¯t our war!¡±

    Mercurio stormed toward him, eyes blazing with fury. Without hesitation, he grabbed the soldier by the front of his coat and hauled him to his feet, shaking him like a rag doll.

    ¡°Not your war?¡± Mercurio snarled, his voice low and venomous. ¡°You think they care about that? You think those bastards out there give a damn about who you are or what you believe? You¡¯re already in this, idiot! The only choice you¡¯ve got now is to fight, or die cowering like a damned coward!¡±

    The soldier flinched as Mercurio shoved him toward the edge of the cover, his trembling hands fumbling with his rifle. A bullet struck nearby, splintering wood and spraying snow. With a panicked yelp, the soldier raised his weapon and fired blindly into the treeline.

    Mercurio spun on the rest of the soldiers, his voice like a blade slicing through their fear. ¡°What about the rest of you? You wanna die here, too? Or are you gonna pick up your rifles and show these bastards they picked the wrong ones to mess with?¡±

    There was a moment of tense silence, punctuated by the relentless cacophony of battle. Then, one by one, the soldiers began to move, their fear giving way to grim determination. They raised their rifles, leaning out from cover to return fire.

    Mercurio ducked behind a shattered tree trunk, glancing toward Leo as bullets zipped past overhead. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°Huh? What?¡± Leo replied, blinking as he snapped out of his daze.

    ¡°We need to beat them, genius,¡± Mercurio smirked, gesturing toward the advancing rebels. ¡°Any idea how?¡±

    Leo hesitated, his thoughts swirling in the chaos. His hands tightened around his rifle as he scanned the battlefield, the sporadic muzzle flashes from the treeline giving away the enemy¡¯s positions, but there was no telling how many more were lying in wait. If they didn¡¯t act, they¡¯d be overrun.

    ¡°We can¡¯t hold this line forever,¡± Leo said. ¡°If we stay pinned here, we¡¯re dead.¡±

    ¡°Brilliant observation,¡± Mercurio muttered, peeking over the trunk to fire a shot. ¡°Got a plan, or are you just stating the obvious?¡±

    Leo took a deep breath. ¡°A bayonet charge.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°Think about it!¡± Leo insisted, his words tumbling out in a rush. ¡°They¡¯re not expecting us to rush them. They¡¯re spread out, probably low on ammo. We¡¯re better equipped, and we¡ªerr¡ªshould be more disciplined.¡±

    Mercurio glanced at the Beastman soldiers huddled behind cover, some visibly trembling. He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Disciplined? You mean the guys who¡¯ve been in uniform for a week?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice,¡± Leo said, his voice hardening. ¡°We either charge or we die here.¡±

    Mercurio sighed, a mix of exasperation and resignation. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s see how much chaos you can cause, genius.¡± He raised his voice, shouting over the din of gunfire. ¡°Fix bayonets!¡±

    The soldiers froze, glancing at one another with wide, uncertain eyes. For a moment, no one moved.

    ¡°You heard me!¡± Mercurio roared, his voice like a whip crack. ¡°Fix bayonets! Unless you want to be picked off like rats, get moving!¡±

    Reluctantly, the soldiers began attaching their bayonets, their hands shaking but steadying as they saw the resolve in Mercurio¡¯s and Leo¡¯s faces.

    Mercurio turned back to Leo, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°You¡¯d better hope this works, or I¡¯ll haunt you in the afterlife.¡±

    Leo forced a shaky grin. ¡°If it doesn¡¯t work, none of us are making it to the afterlife.¡±

    Mercurio barked orders, quickly organizing the soldiers into a rough formation. ¡°On my mark!¡± Mercurio shouted. ¡°Three¡­ two¡­ one¡­ CHARGE!¡±

    The group surged forward, roaring as they charged into the chaos.

    The rebels were caught off guard, just as Leo had predicted. Their gunfire faltered, some of them scrambling to reload or retreat as the charging soldiers closed the gap. But the chaos of the charge revealed an uncomfortable truth, most of the soldiers weren¡¯t trained for this.

    The Beastmen soldiers swung their bayonets with wild, unfocused movements, stabbing and slashing at anything within reach. Rifles discharged haphazardly, some shots hitting their targets while others went wide, kicking up sprays of dirt and snow.

    Leo fought to maintain some semblance of order amid the disarray. He parried a rebel¡¯s sword swing, countering with a quick jab that sent his opponent crumpling to the ground. ¡°Stay together!¡± he shouted with a strained  voice. ¡°Watch your targets! Don¡¯t hit each other!¡±

    Despite the chaos, the charge had its effect. The rebels began to break, their ranks fracturing under the ferocity of the assault. Some turned and fled, disappearing into the treeline, while others fell where they stood, overwhelmed by the desperate onslaught.

    As quickly as it began, the fighting subsided. The battlefield fell eerily silent, broken only by the labored breathing of the surviving soldiers and the distant crackle of gunfire further along the convoy.

    Before Leo or Mercurio could process what had happened, reinforcements arrived. Trained and disciplined Imperial soldiers, humans that swept through the area, securing the position with mechanical efficiency.

    The previous commander strode toward Mercurio and Leo, his expression unreadable. His uniform was streaked with dirt and blood, but he carried himself with an air of authority.

    ¡°You two, sergeants!¡± he shouted, his voice sharp as a whip.

    Mercurio and Leo exchanged uneasy glances, unsure if they were about to be commended or reprimanded. With humans, there was no telling.

    The commander stopped in front of them, his gaze piercing. ¡°Boys, you did a great job holding the line. I don¡¯t know what harebrained idea led you to charge the rebels, but it worked.¡± He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. Then, to their surprise, a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

    ¡°Effective and insane¡ªmy favorite combination. I¡¯m promoting you both to field lieutenants. Congratulations, gentlemen.¡±

    Mercurio¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°Lieutenants?¡±

    Leo blinked, as if trying to process the words. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ serious?¡±

    ¡°Dead serious,¡± the commander said, clapping a hand on each of their shoulders. ¡°You¡¯ve proven you can take initiative, even under fire. We need leaders like that.¡±

    As the commander turned to issue orders to the reinforcements, Mercurio let out a low whistle. ¡°Well, Leo, looks like your dumb ideas really do pay off.¡±

    Leo shook his head, still dazed. ¡°I didn¡¯t do it for a promotion. I just¡­ didn¡¯t want to die.¡±

    ¡°Neither did I, but here we are,¡± Mercurio said with a grin. ¡°Lieutenant Mercurio has a nice ring to it, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Leo gave a weak laugh, the weight of the battle finally settling on his shoulders. ¡°Let¡¯s hope we survive long enough to get used to it.¡±

    <hr>

    A knock on the door.

    Ries set down her pen, its ink untouched on the page where she had idly doodled instead of making progress. Work had slowed considerably since she''d started shifting most of her tasks to Clarissa.

    "Enter," she called.

    The door opened to reveal Lord-Marshal Fountainne, immaculate in his uniform. His appearance reflected the precision expected of his rank. Plain yet disciplined, the only ornamentation being the patch on his cap that marked him as the highest-ranking officer in the Empire.

    "Madam Prime Minister," he greeted her with a clipped tone, offering a slight bow. "I have a report on the suppression of the rebellion."

    "Let¡¯s hear it, then." Ries leaned back in her chair, her tail curling lazily over the armrest as she gestured for him to proceed.

    Fountainne stepped forward, his posture rigid, his hands clasped behind his back. "We¡¯ve successfully regained control of most of the protectorates. The majority of the rebel forces have been routed, their remaining strongholds barely holding on. It¡¯s largely due to their poor coordination that we''ve managed to subdue them with relatively smaller forces."

    ¡°I see¡­¡±

    "The exception," Fountainne continued, "is the siege of the dwarven stronghold at Little Everfree Mountain. Their defenses are as rock-hard as the mountain itself, and the terrain makes a direct assault prohibitively costly. Despite cutting off their supply lines, the defenders have shown no signs of capitulation."

    Her fingers tapped lightly on the desk, her tail curling lazily. "And what does the army make of this situation?"

    "For the time being, we¡¯re maintaining pressure with continuous shelling," Fountainne replied. He paused, clearing his throat as if anticipating her reaction to such a blunt strategy. "The Beastmen regiments, however, have demonstrated exceptional effectiveness despite their limited training. Their performance has exceeded expectations, and I recommend redeploying them to the western front once the rebellion is fully suppressed."

    "I see¡­" Ries¡¯s tone was noncommittal. "How many are in active service?"

    ¡°Over three million and growing,¡± Fountainne said, his stance firm. ¡°The majority are still humans, and most are engaged on the western front.¡±

    "Mhm¡­" She narrowed her eyes, her tail twitching in thought. "How much more do you need?"

    ¡°As much as I can.¡± His reply was as blunt as it was expected, and Ries sighed deeply.

    ¡°I¡¯ll authorize another round of conscription. Five million should suffice for now." She tapped her claws lightly on the desk. "But I¡¯ve received a report about a new offensive plan from the general staff. Care to explain?"

    ¡°Yes, Madam Prime Minister,¡± Fountainne said, stepping back. His gaze scanned the room until it landed on a large, detailed map of the western nations pinned to the wall. "If I may?" He gestured toward it.

    "Go ahead," Ries said, standing and moving to his side as he approached the map. With a practiced motion, Fountainne unsheathed his ceremonial sword, using it to carefully lift the map off its hooks. The blade caught the light, gleaming faintly as he placed the map on the desk, smoothing it out with a precision that betrayed his military discipline.

    "This," Fountainne began, tracing a line across the western nations, "is the most recent state of the frontlines. The Daemons appear to have lost momentum over the past weeks and have temporarily paused their attacks."

    "According to intelligence provided by the Borians¡ªwhich aligns with our own¡ªthe Daemons are preparing for a major offensive. Their plan is a two-pronged assault aimed at Valkoria. Once the snow clears, they¡¯ll move through the Blackmist Great Forest to strike the kingdom¡¯s most fertile and strategic territories."

    ¡°Wait, they¡¯re planning to move through the forest? With how many people?¡±

    "Preliminary estimates suggest a force of nearly half a million," Fountainne replied, his gaze lifting to meet hers. "It¡¯s a bold strategy, but not without merit. The Blackmist Great Forest provides natural cover and a direct path to their targets. If successful, the Valkorian Kingdom will be crippled before they can muster a proper defense."

    Ries leaned over the map, her eyes tracing the dense expanse of the Blackmist Forest. Known for its impenetrable canopy and dangerous wildlife, it had repelled armies for centuries, perhaps even millennia. "Half a million troops through this? Are they insane, or are we underestimating them?"

    "The Daemons aren¡¯t reckless. If they¡¯ve chosen this route, it means they believe they have the resources and coordination to succeed. The Borians also report strange activity¡ªscouts vanishing, unnatural weather patterns in the forest, and sightings of creatures not native to the region."

    Ries¡¯ thoughts raced as she considered the implications. A force of that size pushing through dense foliage and treacherous terrain seemed suicidal, unless they knew something she didn¡¯t. Then, another thought struck her. Half a million soldiers trudging through miles of forested terrain, surrounded by dense, dry foliage.

    Flammable foliage.

    Her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto Fountainne¡¯s. The faint flicker of understanding in his expression told her he was thinking the same thing.

    "Can our airships fly over the forest?"

    "It¡¯s doable," Fountainne replied cautiously, "but the Blackmist¡¯s infamous fog and unpredictable wind patterns make it dangerous. Airships could be lost if we¡¯re not careful."

    "But it¡¯s possible," she pressed.

    "Yes," he admitted. "With¡ª¡±

    "I assume we¡¯re thinking the same thing here," Ries interrupted. "It¡¯s time for the air force to contribute to this war. I want the forest scouted thoroughly, and then the airships will drop incendiary bombs to wipe them out."

    Fountainne hesitated, his brow furrowing. "But¡ª"

    "Just to make sure it does the job," Ries continued, cutting him off, "the shells will be enchanted with flame arcane arts. Coordinate with the mages to ensure we have the right enchantments and enough firepower to eliminate any resistance. I won¡¯t tolerate half-measures."

    The Lord-Marshall¡¯s jaw tightened, but he gave a curt nod. "Understood. I¡¯ll see to it that the mages are brought in immediately. However, there¡¯s still the risk of collateral damage. The fire could spread beyond the forest, potentially reaching nearby settlements or farmlands."

    "I¡¯m aware," Ries replied sharply. Her tail flicked once in irritation before she steadied herself. "Then you¡¯ll make it so that it only spreads in their part of the forest. Use barriers, wind spells, whatever it takes. Coordinate with the mages and the air force to ensure precision. This operation has no room for error."

    Fountainne inclined his head, though a flicker of doubt lingered in his eyes. "Very well, Prime Minister."

    "And one more thing," Ries added, her tone brooking no argument. "Summon the High-Admiral of the air force immediately. I¡¯ll need his input on deployment strategies. You are dismissed."

    The Lord-Marshall saluted crisply before exiting the room, leaving Ries alone with the map. Her gaze lingered on the dense expanse of the Blackmist Forest. This wasn¡¯t a decision she made lightly, but the stakes were too high to hesitate. The war had dragged on for long enough, and every passing day brought greater strain on resources and morale.

    Her thoughts turned momentarily to the Aquilean Empire¡ªa persistent thorn in the side of Imperial ambitions. Despite their battered fleet and mounting losses, the Aquileans stubbornly refused to concede. For every ship sunk in battle, another rose from the depths to replace their losses.

    It wasn¡¯t a matter of superiority; the Empire''s land-based dominance was undeniable, just as the Aquileans'' naval supremacy was unchallenged. Neither side could strike a decisive blow on the other''s homefront. Perhaps that¡¯s why diplomacy had remained elusive¡ªboth nations were locked in a stalemate, each too proud to admit the futility of further bloodshed.

    She frowned. Why are they so stubborn? What¡¯s their endgame? It was a question that had troubled her since the first reports of the Aquilean fleet¡¯s resilience reached her desk. Was it pride? Desperation? Or was there something deeper driving their defiance?

    With a sigh, she reached for the telephone in her desk and dialed a number.

 Special Chapter: The Dragon and the West

    Empire of Valeria

    Legacy of the Chaos Dragon

    The history of the peoples who would later become the Empire of Valyrya (Valeria in western tongue) originate from the dry grasslands of the Everfree plains. These scattered tribes are often viewed as backwards barbarians who had been a thorn to much of the early civilizations. Each tribe had its own traditions, worshiped ancestral spirits, and revered crude statues. Violence was not just common but essential to survival, with warfare and raiding deeply ingrained in their way of life.

    While they have nothing in common, their intensity and fierceness have earned them the name of ¡®Sons of Maas,¡¯ by the western peoples, a reference to their God of War.

    Around 300 AD, an event known as the Age of Chaos started when a sinner in the west opened the Goddess Pandora¡¯s box and unleashed unimaginable evils previously imprisoned within. One of these was the Chaos dragon Reyvrys, who will soon become synonymous with the era.

    During this dark era, the skies blackened, monsters roamed freely, and ancient evils preyed on the weak and sowing terror across the land. The Chaos dragon¡¯s immense form cutting through the clouds struck fear into the hearts of the tribes. Seeking protection¡ªor at least to avoid his wrath¡ªthe tribes abandoned their ancestral gods and turned their worship to Reyvrys, hoping to appease him.

    Reyvrys, sensing their devotion, did not destroy them. Instead, he descended from the heavens and recruited the tribes to serve as his army, transforming them from warring clans into a force bound by loyalty to the great dragon. Under his rule, these tribes were forged into the first semblance of a united identity, a people loyal not to bloodlines or kings, but to the will of the Chaos Dragon.

    As his influence spread, Reyvrys unified more tribes under his banner, raising an army powerful enough to challenge the western kingdoms. His goal was to destroy the Court of Gaia, the God of Life, her sons, daughters, and her worshippers. One by one, cities fell as the Chaos army swept through the west.

    But Reyvrys¡¯ triumph was not to last. At a decisive Battle at the Holy City, The Gods themselves descended and struck down the great dragon in a final, catastrophic clash. With their God slain, his army collapsed, retreating in disarray back to the eastern wilderness. The tribes splintered once more, and the threat to the west was extinguished. For a time.

    With Reyvrys dead and their cause lost, many of the surviving tribes reverted to their old ways of bickering, raiding, and pursuing survival through strength. However, not all were content to return to barbarism. Senior officers and loyalists of Reyvrys, having tasted the power of unity, saw in their defeat an opportunity. If they could not serve a god, they would rule in his name. These warlords claimed to be the true successors of Reyvrys, each vying to establish dominance over the others.

    In the immediate aftermath, tribalism became swept aside as ambitious leaders claimed the ¡®Mandate of Chaos¡¯ to rule in Reyvrys¡¯ name.

    This turbulent period, known as the Unification Wars, raged for over 200 years. Dozens of tribes, warlords, and fledgling kingdoms fought for supremacy, forging and breaking alliances in an endless cycle of conflict. During this time, the west launched a series of wars known as the crusades, successfully reclaiming lands previously lost to the Chaos army.

    One of the most powerful factions to emerge was the Quadruple Alliance, a coalition of warlords who nearly succeeded in uniting the land under their rule. However, standing in their way was the Valeris family, who, like them, have formed an alliance of their own with them at its center.

    Exhausted and ravaged by war, the two factions clashed near the city of Rayyes. Many historians would later call this as ¡®the final battle,¡¯ due to how decisive this battle was for Imperial history.

    The Quadruple Alliance sought to establish a commonwealth of the Reyvrys lands, whilst the Valerians sought to unify all of the realm under their name.

    After four months of fighting, sporadic truces, and military maneuvering, the Valeris Bloc managed to encircle and capture the leaders of the Quadruple Alliance, thus ending the unification wars.

    With the Quadruple Alliance forced into submission, the Valeris family brokered a peace between the factions. The Treaty of Unification formally established Reyvrys'' Empire, henceforth known as the Empire of Valeria as a union of seven powerful families or realms, each granted autonomy over their respective territories.

    Though the throne is theoretically an elected position between the seven families, it was the Valeris family who kept succeeding the throne as First Among Equals. Over time, as wars were waged, the empire consolidated, and power centralized, the other great families¡¯ influence greatly diminished.

    Through a series of wars, both hard-won victories and bitter defeats, the Empire of Valeria has cemented its place as one of the premier great powers of the continent. However, its ambitious campaigns against the western kingdoms met with a costly end. The culmination of these conflicts was the empire¡¯s defeat and expulsion from Rozafyr, one of the original realms of the Seven Families. The loss of Rozafyr marked a turning point for Valeria. Overextended, exhausted, and facing mounting unrest at home, the then Emperor realized the limits of conquest.

    Since that defeat, the empire has abandoned territorial expansion and focused inward. Overextension, both militarily and administratively, had drained the state of its vitality. Though the imperial banners once flew proudly over foreign cities, the Emperor concluded that the costs of occupation far outweighed the benefits. The empire reoriented itself toward consolidating power on the continent, focusing on maintaining internal stability and preserving its influence over the realms and tens of millions of population under its dominion.

    While Valeria''s military campaigns once defined its ambition, the empire chose to forego participation in the conquest of the New World. Other powers¡ªkingdoms and merchant leagues from the west¡ªled the charge into the newly discovered territories beyond the seas. It has gone as far as instituting isolation from the rest of the continent, aside from limited trading with high tariffs. This decision solidified Valeria¡¯s image as a reclusive giant, focused inward while the rest of the world changed.

    Nevertheless, Valeria remains seated on the throne of empires within the continent of Gaias, unmatched in influence and prestige. Few nations dare challenge its authority directly. Yet beneath the grandeur lies the wear and tear of an ancient behemoth, whose foundations have eroded after centuries of stagnation. Old traditions, outdated institutions, and decaying political structures have kept the empire from evolving with the times.

    The noble class has dwindled in both relevance and wealth, eclipsed by a new class of industrialists. These rising businessmen now hold economic power, yet the imperial bureaucracy struggles to accommodate the changing social order. Adding to this turmoil is the crippling absolutism of the emperor, whose obsession with personal power stifled meaningful reform. For decades, the empire has been paralyzed by the endless tug-of-war between the central government, provincial governments, conservative aristocrats, and progressive reformists, leaving critical issues unresolved and reforms deadlocked.

    However, that too, has changed. For better or for worse, the Chaos Dragon may soon awaken from its long slumber.

    <hr>

    The Western Kingdoms

    Of men and the divine

    In the beginning, the Goddess Gaia shaped the cosmos¡ªbringing forth the sky, the earth, and the stars. As she crafted the world, Gaia breathed life into it with divine purpose, but the world was vast, and even the will of a goddess required stewards. Thus, she created three apostles to govern in her name:

    Terra, Apostle of the Earth, guardian of the land, fertility, and nature''s bounty.

    Luna, Apostle of the Night and Moon, who governs dreams, tides, and the mysteries of the unseen.

    Sol, Apostle of the Day and Sun, keeper of light, harvest, and celestial order.

    Together, the Apostles managed the world¡¯s balance, their divine presence sustaining the harmony between heaven and earth in Gaia''s absence. They bestow favor upon the faithful and punish those who disturbed the natural order. Yet, Gaia¡¯s vision for the world included not just divine overseers but also mortal beings to inhabit her creation. From the earth and stars, she shaped mankind. Fragile yet ambitious creatures, destined to spread across the world and build civilizations in honor of their goddess. Many races were created, each with their own speciality¨Cexcept one, who were made average across all metrics. Humanity.

    In the early days, humans lived under the direct guidance of the Apostles. Terra taught them to cultivate the land, harvest its gifts, and respect nature¡¯s cycles. Luna guided them through darkness, gifting dreams and omens, inspiring art, poetry, and superstition. Sol showed them the power of fire and light, leading them to forge tools, and build cities. Together, the Apostles shaped the foundations of the Western Kingdoms, each kingdom reflecting the teachings of one Apostle above the others.

    As the human population grew and their settlements evolved into cities and kingdoms, the Apostles could no longer directly oversee every aspect of mortal life. To mediate the affairs of humanity and serve as a bridge between the divine and mortal realms, the Papacy was established. This institution ensured that no sect¡ªwhether dedicated to Terra, Luna, Sol, or other Gods¡ªwould dominate the others. Instead, the Pope would represent the collective interests of all sects, maintaining the balance between faiths and ensuring that Gaia¡¯s teachings remained at the heart of governance and society.

    Over time, the Papacy became a powerful institution, second only to the monarchs of the Western Kingdoms. It unified the kingdoms through shared religious festivals, laws, and doctrines, enforcing moral order while serving as a spiritual guide. The creation of the Council of Cardinals further ensured that the Apostles'' teachings were upheld across all realms, allowing for mediation between the kingdoms and preventing wars born of religious rivalry.

    For a time.

    The stability created by the Papacy was not without cracks. As power shifted and the kingdoms grew more ambitious, the unity once maintained by faith and doctrine began to crack ever so slightly. Monarchs sought to assert greater independence from ecclesiastical oversight, and rising trade networks complicated the relationship between spiritual obligations and economic ambition. Still, for generations, the Western Kingdoms thrived under this delicate balance between faith and crown.

    The Western Kingdoms came to embody a fusion of faith, tradition, wealth, and culture. At the heart of society was chivalry, a code that emphasized loyalty, honor, and service¡ªnot just to rulers, but to both faith and community. Knights became symbols of this ideal, celebrated for their bravery on the battlefield as well as their humility and charity. Many saw themselves as protectors of the weak, enforcing justice in the name of Gaia and her Apostles. Orders of knights arose across the kingdoms, some defending pilgrims and churches, others serving as elite royal guards or adventurers for hire.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Beyond the battlefield, the Western Kingdoms were also a hub of intellectual and economic innovation. The birthplace of mercantilism, the kingdoms saw the rise of powerful merchant guilds that transformed trade across the continent. Wealth flowed through bustling markets and trade cities, empowering a new class of merchants, financiers, and craftsmen whose influence began to rival that of the nobility.

    In comparison to other nations, the Western Kingdoms carved a unique identity. They lacked the warlike ambition and self-destructive tendencies of the Chaos Dragon¡¯s Empire, the unparalleled innovation of the Dwarven realms, the scholarly prowess of the Elven kingdoms, and the formidable martial traditions of the Beastmen tribes. Instead, the west prioritized stability and wealth over rapid progress, fostering an environment where economic prosperity flourished. This cautious approach to growth ensured that the Western Kingdoms remained a center of power and wealth for centuries.

    A key factor in the west¡¯s resilience against conquest by more militaristic nations was their mastery and heavy reliance on Arcane warfare. The Western Kingdoms invested heavily in magical advancements, fielding battle-mages, enchanted weaponry, and sophisticated defensive wards that gave them an edge on the battlefield. Their expertise in Arcane warfare allowed them to secure crucial victories in their crusades against the Chaos Dragon¡¯s Empire, reinforcing their dominance and safeguarding their territories.

    The printing press was one of the most revolutionary inventions of the age, and also an entirely human invention, enabled the spread of ideas, scripture, and philosophy at unprecedented speed. Knowledge, once confined to monasteries and libraries, became accessible to commoners and nobles alike. Universities and academies flourished, drawing scholars from distant lands to study art, theology, and science.

    Then, the Adventurers Guild emerged. Originally intended to protect merchants and travelers from bandits and monsters, it evolved into a prestigious institution that attracted wandering knights, explorers, and fortune-seekers. These adventurers helped chart new trade routes, uncover lost relics, and defend the realm from the occasional monster incursion¡ªearning wealth and glory along the way.

    Despite the outward appearance of prosperity, tensions simmered beneath the surface. The rise of mercantilism and a wealthy merchant class challenged the old feudal order, creating friction between nobles and merchants. The noble houses, deeply rooted in the ideals of chivalry and divine right, struggled to maintain their relevance as commerce and innovation shifted power into the hands of the rising bourgeoisie. Some nobles embraced the change, forming alliances with merchant leagues, while others clung stubbornly to outdated traditions.

    Meanwhile, the Papacy¡¯s grip on society began to weaken. The printing press, which had once served as a tool for spreading religious teachings, became a double-edged sword, spreading reformist ideas and criticism of the Church. Dissenters questioned the wealth and influence of the clergy, calling for a return to simpler, more humble forms of worship. These tensions gave rise to sectarian movements that, while initially small, began to spread rapidly across the kingdoms.

    With the traditional order in flux, the Papacy and monarchs found themselves at odds. Some kings sought to assert greater independence from the Church, viewing the Council of Cardinals as a threat to their sovereignty. Others grew frustrated with the Church¡¯s reluctance to embrace reform, arguing that faith should adapt to changing times.

    Corruption seeped into every layer of governance. The Church, once seen as the moral compass of the west, was plagued by nepotism, bribery, and internal power struggles. Monarchs became increasingly absolutist, disregarding both the nobility and the Church as they pursued personal ambition and wealth. At the same time, the nobility distanced itself from the common people, indulging in decadence while failing to address the kingdom¡¯s growing crises.

    Religious wars erupted, ignited not by external threats but by disputes over sects and doctrine. Each kingdom sought to crown their own Pope, arguing over which interpretation of the faith was true and which monarch had the right to appoint spiritual leaders. What began as theological debate spiraled into bloody conflicts, further draining the strength and resources of the kingdoms. As armies turned on one another, the delicate balance that had once united the west shattered.

    This internal disarray left the Western Kingdoms woefully unprepared for the greatest threat they had ever faced: the Daemon Horde. For centuries, adventurers and mercenaries had been enough to contain the occasional outbreak of monsters or rogue cults. Yet the Demons were unlike anything the kingdoms had encountered before¡ªorganized, relentless, and far more powerful than anticipated. Entire cities fell before the adventurers could react, and knightly orders found themselves overwhelmed on the front lines.

    The Papacy¡¯s pleas for unity and holy war came too late. By the time the kingdoms realized the gravity of the invasion, their armies had already been crippled by infighting and religious schisms.

    But they are not yet lost.

    Maybe, just maybe, the west needs a Hero to rally them, and perhaps, just perhaps, the idea of a united western kingdom isn¡¯t too far-fetched.

    <hr>

    The Archonate of Chaos

    An unbroken behemoth

    The Archonate of Chaos serves as both the official state religion and a central institution within the Valerian Empire. It venerates the now-deceased Chaos Dragon, a divine progenitor, as its god and upholds the original doctrines and teachings attributed to this ancient primordial being. The Archonate mirrors the expansive bureaucracy of the Empire, its influence extending into every aspect of life, from governance to cultural traditions.

    Unlike many religions, the Archonate recognizes the shared equality of both sexes, as women can serve in the Archonate as Clerics or Cardinals, and believes that equality can only be achieved by strength and strength alone.

    The original teachings of the Chaos Dragon emphasize the doctrine of "Might Makes Right," a philosophy that underpins the Archonate''s view of the world. In this belief system, power is the ultimate measure of worth. Anyone, regardless of their background, can rise to prominence, provided they possess the strength to fight for it

    Over time, however, the definition of "power" has evolved. No longer solely focused on martial prowess, the concept of strength now encompasses a variety of domains, which included intellectual brilliance, mastery of the Arcane, and technical expertise. As the Empire expanded and became more complex, so too did the Archonate¡¯s understanding of what constitutes power. The strong were no longer only those who could command armies or engage in physical combat; those who could command knowledge, wield magic, or manage bureaucracies were equally revered.

    It was during this transformation that the Emperor, recognizing the need for a more sophisticated system of governance, established the Imperial Examinations, a meritocratic system designed to identify the most capable individuals to serve as civil servants across the Empire. Rooted in the Archonate¡¯s belief that strength manifests in many forms, the Examinations became a cornerstone of imperial society, ensuring that only the most competent, whether they be scholars, strategists, or magicians, would rise to positions of power.

    Although the Archonate stands at the center of Imperial theocracy, it has never been truly independent.

    Its authority is intrinsically tied to the Sovereign of the Empire, who serves as both the head of state, government, and the supreme leader of the faith. By tradition and decree, the Sovereign holds the title of Archon, granting them the ultimate authority to interpret and, if necessary, amend the doctrines of the Archonate.

    From its inception as an organized religion, the Archonate has been bound to the will of the throne. Its doctrines that glorify and legitimize the ruling royal family were elevated and propagandized, while more spiritual and introspective teachings were gradually suppressed and erased from common practice. Over time, the original tenets of reverence for Reyvrys, the Chaos Dragon, were overshadowed by a growing cult of the Imperial royal family. The Archonate became less a vessel of divine worship and more an instrument of imperial authority, its teachings reshaped to emphasize loyalty to the Sovereign as both divine representative and temporal ruler.

    As observed by a Western Priest, ¡°The peoples of what was once the Chaos Dragon¡¯s faithful have been made into thralls of the throne. Where they once bowed to the divine, they now kneel to mortals who wear crowns and dare claim divinity, their prayers shaped to exalt the living rather than honor their God.¡±

    While absolutism is not a foreign concept in the West, where nobles have historically banded together to challenge kings who overreach their authority, the form of absolutism within the Empire has evolved into something far more entrenched. Within a single lifetime, the Imperial royal family has solidified itself as the embodiment of the Empire. Their influence extends into every facet of society.

    The transformation has been so comprehensive that the Empire¡¯s very identity is inseparable from the royal family. To question the Sovereign is not merely to challenge a ruler but to commit an act of sacrilege, as the Sovereign is both temporal ruler and divine representative. The Archonate¡¯s relentless promotion of the cult of the royal family ensures this perception is deeply ingrained in the populace, leaving little room for dissent or alternative interpretations of power.

    However, such concentrated power has also created vulnerabilities. The royal family¡¯s omnipresence means that any perceived failure¡ªbe it a military defeat, a natural disaster, or a significant economic downturn¡ªcan cast doubt on their divine mandate.

    But even then, it would take more than a catastrophe to unseat the Sovereign of Chaos.

    <hr>

    The Court of Gaia

    The Court of the Gods

    If you were to ask a worshipper of Gaia, ¡°Who do you worship?¡± they would likely reply, ¡°Gaia, the Goddess of Life.¡± But ask them this: ¡°Who is your apostle?¡± Their answer will reveal much about their beliefs.

    If they name Sol, Luna, or Terra, they align with the mainstream doctrines of the Court of Gaia, a faith structured around the celestial triad of apostles who are said to embody Gaia¡¯s will. These three figures¡ªSol, the Apostle of the Sun, Luna, the Apostle of the Moon, and Terra, the Apostle of the Earth¡ªform the pillars of orthodoxy, their teachings revered and their authority unquestioned by most adherents.

    However, if they name anyone outside this triad¡ªbe it Gaia¡¯s sons or daughters, a demigod, or a forgotten apostle¡ªthey are part of the Revisionists, a collection of splinter sects that diverge from the mainstream faith. These sects often revere other Gods that the orthodox Court has deemed heretical or fringe.

    But how can one worship a God or an apostle, yet still claiming to be worshipping Gaia?

    The term ¡°Court of Gaia¡± refers to the divine pantheon centered around Gaia, the Goddess of Life, and her celestial court of apostles and divine entities¨Cher sons and daughters. This encompasses not only Gaia herself but also the entities that serve as extensions of her will and manifestations of her power. For the mainstream adherents, Sol, Luna, and Terra are the ultimate representatives of this divine hierarchy, embodying the sun, moon, and earth as Gaia¡¯s most trusted apostles.

    However, the Revisionists argue that Gaia¡¯s court is far more expansive than what the orthodox teachings acknowledge. To them, Gaia¡¯s divine essence flows through a myriad of beings¡ªher sons and daughters, demigods born of her essence, and even forgotten apostles who once served her before the rise of the celestial triad. They claim that these figures are no less divine than Sol, Luna, and Terra, and that worshiping them is merely a different way of venerating Gaia herself.

    Revisionists view the triad as an incomplete representation of Gaia¡¯s will. They believe that the orthodox Court of Gaia suppresses the full spectrum of divine truth to maintain control over the faith and, by extension, the populace. In their eyes, Gaia¡¯s life-giving essence is far too vast to be contained within three apostles. A few sects even claim that Gaia¡¯s essence extends into rival gods, positioning her as the source of all divinity in the world.

    To Revisionists, acknowledging these beings is not heretical but rather an expansion of Gaia¡¯s worship. They see the mainstream faith¡¯s exclusive focus on the triad as an arbitrary limitation, born more from political motives than spiritual truth.

    The orthodox Court of Gaia staunchly opposes Revisionist beliefs, denouncing them as heretical distortions of the faith. To the orthodox clergy, Gaia¡¯s will is clear: Sol, Luna, and Terra are her chosen apostles, and their guidance is sufficient for humanity¡¯s spiritual needs. The Court¡¯s leaders argue that the Revisionists dilute the purity of Gaia¡¯s teachings by introducing conflicting doctrines and alternative deities.

    The Papacy, established by Gaia herself, serves as the ultimate institution to represent humanity¡¯s collective voice in worship and devotion. It is structured as a divine hierarchy with the Pope at its head, functioning as Gaia¡¯s earthly representative and the spiritual leader of the faith. The Pope is chosen from among a Council of Cardinals, a body of high-ranking clerics who are regarded as paragons of spiritual wisdom and devotion.

    ¡­ that may have been the case a decade ago. However times are changing.

    The rise of absolutism and centuries of religious dogma, coupled with the silencing of critics, eventually led to a breaking point: the League Wars. These devastating conflicts, fueled by both theological and political divides, fractured the unity of the faith and left the Papacy¡¯s authority hanging by a thread.

    The first blow came in the form of Reformist ideas, sparked when a prominent cleric nailed 555 Theses to the door of a local church. In this manifesto, the cleric detailed the corruption and moral decay at the heart of the Papacy, exposing its indulgences, power grabs, and hypocrisy. What began as whispers of dissent quickly grew into a tidal wave of reformist fervor that swept across the lands, challenging the orthodoxy that had reigned for centuries.

    Amid this turmoil, something unprecedented occurred. The Gods themselves, once active and vocal in guiding their mortal followers, seemed to withdraw. Perhaps consumed by their own celestial conflicts, they left humanity to fend for itself.

    For the first time in recorded history, mortals faced an unsettling reality¡ªGaia¡¯s silence.

    This silence reverberated across the west, plunging it into division and strife. The once-unified faith splintered into two warring factions. The Orthodox League, staunch defenders of the Papacy and its traditional doctrines, and the Reformist League, a coalition advocating for sweeping changes to the faith¡¯s structure and practices. For only the second time in the west¡¯s turbulent history, its lands were drenched in blood as religious fervor ignited a devastating conflict.

    Foreign military ideas, carried westward by mercenaries, adventurers, and foreign interference, reshaped the battlefield. The musket made its devastating debut, revolutionizing warfare and marking the end of the dominance of knightly orders.

    Cannons became commonplace, tearing through fortifications that had stood for centuries. Infantry formations adapted to the new realities of ranged combat, with pike-and-shot tactics gaining prominence. Traditional cavalry charges, once the pride of western militaries, were rendered nearly obsolete by disciplined lines of musket fire.

    The League Wars raged for decades, leaving a trail of devastation unmatched in western history. Entire regions were laid to waste, and millions perished as soldiers, civilians, and innocents caught in the maelstrom of ideologies and ambitions. By the time a fragile peace was finally brokered, over five million lives had been lost, with neither the Orthodox nor the Reformist League emerging as true victors.

    As peace lingered precariously, the question remained: could the west unite against an external threat, or would it fall prey to the very divisions it had created?

 Part XXVIII: The Serpent and the Dragon

    A slow day in the office, they said. As Prime Minister and head of government, there was no such thing as a truly "slow" day. Even on days when the Empire wasn¡¯t in turmoil or actively engaged in battle, there were always fires to put out. Today was no exception, they were just quieter.

    Earlier, she¡¯d dispatched a diplomatic team to negotiate with the Aquileans. Viscount Adam Thorne was a relic of a bygone era and about to retire, but his his experience in dealing with the Aquileans were just too good to pass up.

    Her attention shifted to Clarissa, who stood at her side, dutifully sorting through the endless tide of paperwork that seemed to multiply every time Ries dared look away. Clarissa¡¯s expression was as composed as ever, her hands moving deftly as she stacked the latest pile of documents onto the already teetering tower on Ries¡¯ desk.

    ¡°¡ªThese are the complaints from rural nobles who¡ª¡±

    ¡°Boring,¡± Ries muttered, cutting her off mid-sentence. She waved a hand dismissively and leaned back in her chair. ¡°What is it this time? Rising costs? Grain shortages? Another petition for me to reinstate their hunting privileges?¡±

    Clarissa arched a brow but didn¡¯t comment on the interruption. Instead, she handed over the top document to her. ¡°Protests from rural nobles regarding rising costs due to the war and increased taxes on luxury goods. They¡¯re demanding relief measures.¡±

    ¡°Relief measures?¡± Ries scoffed, snatching the document and giving it a cursory glance. ¡°Half of them are hoarding wealth while the other half are throwing lavish parties. Maybe they should try spending less instead of begging the government for handouts.¡±

    Clarissa¡¯s lips twitched, a fleeting hint of amusement crossing her face. ¡°I¡¯ll make a note of your thoughts, Madam Prime Minister.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± Ries sighed, tossing the document aside. ¡°Just draft something that looks like a response and send it back. Tell them I¡¯m ¡®reviewing their concerns¡¯ or whatever diplomatic nonsense you¡¯re supposed to say.¡±

    Clarissa, remained silent as she continued her task, sorting through the endless pile of paperwork. ¡°And the economic proposals? There were...¡±

    ¡°Three, right?¡± Ries interrupted, resting her chin on her hand. ¡°We¡¯re going with the Central Bank¡¯s solution, yes?¡±

    ¡°Correct,¡± Clarissa confirmed, pausing as she glanced at the papers in her hands. ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Right, right. I forgot. It''s hard to keep track of all this, considering we¡¯re still fighting a war,¡± Ries said, her tone more weary than frustrated. She sighed, rubbing her temples. ¡°How¡¯s the economy looking? It¡¯s been months since we transitioned into a full war economy, hasn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Yes, it has fully transitioned,¡± Clarissa answered, keeping her voice calm and steady. ¡°Do you want a full report or just the¡ª¡±

    ¡°Just the highlights,¡± Ries groaned, leaning back in her chair, her eyes scanning the ceiling. ¡°I¡¯ve got enough reports about bread shortages and noble complaints to last me a lifetime.¡±

    Clarissa paused for a moment, flipping through the documents before beginning. ¡°Production is up in war-related sectors. Weapons, munitions, and steel are being manufactured at full capacity. However, civilian production has been cut down significantly. The general populace is facing increasing shortages in basic goods like food and clothing. Unemployment is down, but that''s largely because of the conscription efforts, so it''s not an accurate measure of workforce health.¡±

    Ries leaned forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°Sounds like the populace is working, but living conditions are getting worse. People won¡¯t be content for long if they¡¯re struggling to feed their families.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a delicate balance, Madam,¡± Clarissa replied. ¡°The Central Bank¡¯s measures are helping to curb inflation, but price controls and rationing are causing unrest in the lower classes. Public morale is low, but we¡¯ve kept the unrest to a manageable level... for now.¡±

    ¡°For now¡­¡± Ries repeated, her voice laced with both annoyance and concern. She tapped her fingers against the desk. ¡°How long can we keep this up before people start questioning whether it''s worth it?¡±

    Clarissa hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. She wasn¡¯t sure how much to say or whether it would even make a difference. Everyone who had more than a passing understanding of the Empire¡¯s war machine knew the truth, war is expensive. Cripplingly so.

    Yes, the Empire could theoretically mobilize tens of millions of men. Yes, it had the industrial capacity to churn out weapons, munitions, and vehicles at a near-limitless pace. Yes, its sheer size, modern infrastructure, and industrial might made it a near-impossible foe to defeat. Any enemy would be a fool to underestimate the risk of facing the Empire in open war. But¡­

    Ries exhaled, the sigh barely audible as she leaned back in her chair. It wasn¡¯t about whether they could win, it was about the price they¡¯d pay to do so, and how much the people would tolerate before they decided it wasn¡¯t worth the cost. How much longer would they endure before they decided it simply wasn¡¯t worth it? And when the war was won¡ªif it could be called winning¡ªwhat then?

    Her mind drifted back to her tribe. When her people won a battle, they celebrated with unbridled fervor. Feasts stretched into the night, warriors claimed their rewards, and the dead were honored with joyous song and fiery ritual. It was a catharsis, a way to acknowledge both the victory and the sacrifices that came with it.

    Human culture, however, was different. There might be celebrations, such as parades through the capital, medals pinned on the uniforms of the lucky few who survived unscathed, but it never carried the same weight. The victories were hollowed by the empty chairs at family tables, the widows and orphans left behind, and the lingering scars that no amount of ceremony could heal. After the confetti was swept away and the speeches faded into history, what came next?

    When the war ended, Ries knew the Empire would not emerge unscathed. There would be broken families mourning the dead, a generation of maimed soldiers struggling to find their place in a society that had no need for them anymore, and a nation crippled by the staggering cost of sustaining the conflict. And even if the Empire itself stood unbroken, would its people feel the same? Would they still believe in what the war had been fought for?

    Leaning forward, she propped her elbows on the desk and buried her face in her hands.

    This is why I hate being here.

    A soft knock at the door broke the silence. Clarissa, moved to answer it. She cracked the door open, exchanged a few hushed words with whoever was on the other side, and then returned with a folder in her hands.

    ¡°Madam Prime Minister,¡± she said, her tone both cautious and formal, ¡°this is a royal decree from Her Majesty.¡±

    Ries barely lifted her head from her hands, her feline ears twitching as she groaned. ¡°A royal decree? Great. What does she want now?¡±

    Clarissa handed over the folder, and Ries took it begrudgingly, flipping it open to the first page.

    SOVEREIGN IMPERIAL PROCLAMATION ON THE CONSTITUTIONAL REVISION GOVERNING PARLIAMENTARY INSTITUTIONAL ARRANGEMENTS

    Ries blinked. ¡°This is¡­¡± Her voice trailed off as she began flipping through the pages, her expression shifting from annoyance to alarm.

    When she finally reached the last page, she counted fifty in total. Fifty meticulously written pages of legal jargon and reform proposals.

    She slammed the folder shut, her eyes locking onto Clarissa. ¡°She wants to change the constitution!¡±

    <hr>

    Diplomacy is anything but a fool¡¯s game. It is a necessity in shaping the past, defining the present, and determining the future. Yet, it is also fragile. A single misstep, a shift in power, or even a careless word can shatter years of careful negotiation.

    Promises. People make them all the time. Treaties, agreements, pacts... they are all written, signed, and sealed with conviction. But what truly binds them? What stops a nation from discarding a non-aggression pact, breaking a trade agreement, or abandoning peace when it becomes inconvenient?

    For Adam Thorne, the Empire¡¯s seasoned diplomat and its chosen envoy to the Aquileans, diplomacy is not about honor nor sentiment. It is about pragmatism. In his sixty years of service, he has seen treaties built on grand ideals crumble under the weight of ambition and self-interest. He has watched allies turn to enemies and enemies extend a hand in friendship when necessity demanded it.

    They say, "To know your enemy, you must know yourself." A fair assessment.

    Diplomacy is not merely the art of words. It is the recognition of strength, the balance of power, and the unspoken understanding that both sides must see each other as equals. Without that, there is no negotiation, only submission or defiance.

    Thorne knew this better than most. Decades of diplomacy had taught him that treaties were not built on goodwill alone, but on the careful calculation of risk and reward. Two nations could only come to the table as equals if both believed they had something to gain and something to lose.

    Thorne exhaled slowly, staring out at the vast ocean beyond the ship¡¯s deck. The Aquileans had always been a mystery, an empire that thrived not on land, but in the depths of the sea. Their fleets were not built but grown, living organisms molded into warships, undying and self-repairing so long as the ocean itself endured.

    It was no wonder they saw themselves as equals to the Valyryan Empire, despite centuries of war. They did not fear occupation, nor did they worry about the devastation of their homeland. The sea was their domain, one that no army could march upon, and no siege could break.

    And yet, they could not break the Empire either. For every living warship they unleashed, Valyrya had built steel dreadnoughts to counter them. For every sunken vessel, more were forged in the Empire¡¯s shipyards, churning out leviathans of iron and firepower at an unrelenting pace.

    This war¡ªwhether it was truly the hundredth or simply felt that way¡ªhad settled into an eternal deadlock. A cycle of destruction and renewal, fought over and over again with no true victor.

    ¡°Sir, we are approaching Shallow Island,¡± a sailor informed.

    Thorne gave a small nod, his gaze never leaving the horizon. Shallow Island¡­ one of the few patches of land where both Empires could meet without the interference of warships or the ever-watchful eyes of their respective admiralties. A neutral ground, if such a thing truly existed between two nations locked in perpetual rivalry.

    The Empire could have continued this war indefinitely, grinding away at the Aquileans just as it had for centuries. But this was not just any war. The looming campaign against the Daemons demanded full Imperial might. The navy, stretched thin from its endless engagements against the Aquilean fleets, had been ordered to shift its focus to encircle and blockade Daemon-controlled ports, cutting off whatever supply lines those wretched creatures relied upon.

    And so, an uneasy necessity had been born. Valyrya could no longer afford to fight a war on two fronts, not if it hoped to crush the Daemons once and for all. The Aquileans had to be dealt with. Through diplomacy, if possible.

    Thorne adjusted his coat once again, straightening the medals pinned to his chest. The Aquileans respected strength, and strength was what he would offer.

    ¡°Signal the delegation,¡± Thorne ordered coolly. ¡°Tell them we¡¯ll be making landfall shortly.¡±

    As the island loomed into view, he could already discern shifting shadows beneath the waves, monstrous shapes gliding through the water. The Aquilean envoys were waiting.

    He was escorted into a rowboat that was carefully lowered and rowed by several sailors. The rhythmic splash of oars were the only sound punctuating the quiet tension of the moment. Thorne maintained a composed, neutral expression, his hands folded calmly in his lap as they neared the shore.

    When the boat finally scraped against the damp sand, Thorne stepped out, his boots sinking slightly into the soft ground. There, standing in a semicircle on the beach, were the Aquilean envoys. Tall, imposing figures clad in organic carapace armor unique to their kind. Their skin, slick and faintly iridescent, shimmered under the overcast sky, reminiscent of living sculpture carved by the tides.

    They brought to mind the ruling class of the Xia Empire from the southern continent. Where the Xiaese were dragons, the Aquileans were their aquatic counterparts, sea serpents of regal bearing. Ancient, very ancient races, both of them.

    One envoy, clearly the highest-ranking among them, stepped forward. His voice boomed, like what you¡¯d expect from a normal diplomat. Indeed, even though they are races of the deep, they still speak using their mouths.

    "Thorne of Valyrya," the envoy intoned. "I must admit, I never thought it has been more than fifty years, no? I remembered you being the junior diplomat in our first ceasefire."

    "Indeed. Though, you haven¡¯t aged one bit, Silias." Thorne remarked, a hint of amusement flickering across his otherwise composed expression.

    The Aquilean diplomat bared something between a grin and a grimace, revealing rows of sharp, needle-like teeth. ¡°We of the deep do not wither as quickly as land-dwellers. Time is a current that moves differently for us.¡± His dark, unblinking eyes studied Thorne with a gaze as steady as the tides. ¡°But you¡­ You have changed.¡±

    Thorne adjusted the cuffs of his coat, allowing himself a small chuckle. ¡°Time does that to men. We wear our years on our shoulders, and in our bones.¡±

    Silias inclined his head slightly. ¡°And yet, you still return. Again and again. Does Valyrya truly seek peace, or is this merely another lull before the next storm?¡±

    Thorne exhaled slowly, watching the tide lap at the shore. ¡°If it were just another lull, I wouldn¡¯t be here myself.¡± He took a measured step forward, hands folded neatly behind his back. ¡°You and I both know what this war has become¡­ an endless cycle. Broken ceasefires. Fleets built to replace those lost. Borders shifting like the tides, yet never truly changing.¡±

    He paused, letting the words settle. It was more than that, of course. The so-called ¡®peace¡¯ they had shared before was never peace at all. Merely ceasefires, pauses in the bloodshed to rearm and rebuild, waiting for the next inevitable clash. No true treaties had ever been signed, and no lasting agreements forged.

    Silias let out a low chuckle, a gesture somewhere between skepticism and amusement. ¡°You speak as though you seek to break the cycle.¡±

    Thorne met his gaze squarely. ¡°I do.¡±

    Another ripple of murmurs passed through the gathered Aquilean envoys, their slick, scaled hands shifting subtly in the mist-laden air. Silias remained still, his eyes locked into Thorne¡¯s

    ¡°Bold words,¡± Silias mused. ¡°Valyrya has made countless promises over the years, each one followed by its share of betrayals. Why should we believe that this time is any different?¡±

    Thorne allowed himself a faint smile. ¡°Because this time, you stand to gain something substantial.¡±

    Silias¡¯ gills flared, unmistakably signaling interest. ¡°Go on,¡± he prompted.

    ¡°The Empire is redirecting its focus,¡± Thorne said steadily. ¡°You know as well as I do that the Daemons are not a threat that can be ignored. Valyrya cannot afford to fight on two fronts indefinitely.¡±The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°The Daemons¡­ fascinating. And here I believed they had kept their promise,¡± Silias remarked.

    Thorne¡¯s eyebrow arched in quiet curiosity. ¡°They came to you?¡±

    Silias chuckled. ¡°Oh, indeed. Your Admiral¡ªthe one stationed in the Coroner Islands¡ªwas targeted. We were advised to capture him, to ignite yet another conflict with you.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re revealing this now. To what end?¡± Thorne asked.

    ¡°Because the Daemons failed in their promise,¡± Silias replied, his voice even but laden with quiet reproach. ¡°They swore they would crush you swiftly on land. Yet here you stand, unbowed before us.¡±

    Thorne let the silence hang between them for a moment, the sound of the waves punctuating the tension. ¡°That failure speaks volumes. It proves that neither side can continue this endless cycle of empty pacts and renewed hostilities. The Daemons have shown us that promises, like the shifting tides, are fickle.¡±

    Silias¡¯ gills fluttered as he mused, ¡°Indeed, as they say: keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. And you, Thorne, have something very dear to us.¡±

    Thorne inclined his head. ¡°The Crown Prince of the Aquilean Empire.¡±

    A subtle smile tugged at Silias¡¯ features. ¡°Indeed. It has been... quite some time since I last saw my niece. How is he faring?¡±

    Thorne shook his head. ¡°He was detained by our secret police on charges of espionage.¡±

    Silias snorted, a sound both incredulous and amused. ¡°I¡¯m well aware that you lack authority over your own soldiers in such matters. And what became of him?¡±

    ¡°He escaped. Assisted by friends,¡± Thorne replied tersely.

    Silias exhaled sharply, his gills flaring in mild amusement. ¡°Friends¡­ good for him,¡± he murmured, his tone lightening. ¡°But let us set aside these diversions and return to the matter at hand.¡±

    Thorne inclined his head. This was merely the opening volley, and the game has yet to be played.

    The question was, who would play their hand first?

    Silias dismissed the other envoys with a flick of his hand, sending them back into the depths to conduct the finer details of negotiation elsewhere. He remained behind, fixing Thorne with a piercing gaze.

    "Do you know how many of my people have perished in this war?" Silias asked, his voice calm, but was edged with something dangerous.

    Thorne tilted his head slightly, his practiced poker face betraying nothing. "Care to enlighten me?"

    Silias did not answer immediately. Instead, he stepped forward, the faint shimmer of his robes trailing like flowing water, his presence exuding an air of restrained fury. He let the silence stretch between them, like the stillness of the ocean before a coming storm.

    "One hundred and ninety-seven thousand," he finally said, his voice almost too even, too controlled. "That is the number of Aquileans who will never return to their families. Warriors, scholars, artisans. Some perished to cannon fire, some were torn apart by your depth charges, and some¡­ suffered far worse fates at your hands.¡±

    Thorne absorbed the words, though he did not allow them to sink into his bones just yet. Numbers, no matter how staggering, were weapons in their own right, wielded to shape the battlefield of diplomacy.

    "A tragedy," he said at last, his tone carefully calibrated to be neither dismissive nor overly sympathetic. "One that Valyrya does not take lightly, despite what you may believe. But tell me, Silias, how many Valyryans have fallen in this war? Do you think our dead rest any easier?"

    Silias''s lips pressed into a thin line. "You think this is a contest of suffering?"

    "I think," Thorne said, stepping forward, "that war spares no one. And I think that if we sit here counting the dead, we will condemn the living to join them."

    A quiet tension settled over them, the distant hum of the ocean being only sound between them.

    Silias regarded him for a long moment before speaking again. "Your words are well-rehearsed. Expected for a senior diplomat. But I did not ask for hollow sympathies."

    "Then tell me what you do want."

    Silias exhaled sharply, as if weighing the cost of his next words. "We want assurance. We want guarantees. You say Valyrya seeks peace, yet for centuries your empire has bled the seas and treated my people as little more than obstacles. Tell me, Thorne, why should we trust you?"

    At that, Thorne allowed a small, knowing smile to creep onto his lips. And there it is.

    The first real move.

    He clasped his hands behind his back, deliberate in his poise. "Trust is not built in a single meeting, nor won through a single treaty. It is forged in action." He tilted his head slightly. "So, let us dispense with pretense. What does Aquilea require in order to believe Valyrya¡¯s intentions are true? What would convince your people that this war must end? Because if I recall correctly, of the sixty ceasefires we¡¯ve brokered in the past, it was Aquilea that broke forty-seven of them first."

    "You would dredge up the past to justify your empire''s crimes?" Silias¡¯s voice had sharpened, but it remained quiet. "The circumstances of those ceasefires were far different, and you know it. We did what was necessary. Survival demanded it. It was never Aquilea that sought war, only that we refused to kneel when war was forced upon us."

    Thorne remained unmoved. He understood that, like all civilizations, no society¡ªno matter how united or seemingly invincible¡ªwas immune to internal division. Factionalism was a curse, a blight that reminded the world of its inherent imperfection.

    In Aquilea, that divide ran deep between the so-called hardliners and the pragmatists.

    The hardliners were the traditionalists, fervent believers in aquatic exceptionalism. They had long dismissed any notion of peace with Valyrya¡ªor any land-dwelling civilization, for that matter. To them, every treaty was merely a temporary lull before inevitable betrayal, every concession a step toward subjugation. Burdened by centuries of resentment, they were convinced that Valyrya would never honor its word. For them, survival meant perpetual vigilance, and that vigilance necessitated never lowering their guard.

    The pragmatists, however, saw the war for what it had become, a constant drain on Aquilea¡¯s strength. Their fleets were battered, their economy strained, their people weary of bloodshed. They did not trust Valyrya, but they understood that clinging to old wounds would only lead to ruin. They wanted guarantees, not just words, but something real. Something that would prove this peace was more than another fleeting illusion.

    Thorne understood this divide well. He had seen its reflection within his own empire, where nobles, generals, and ministers argued over the path forward.

    The difference was that Valyrya had the upper hand, despite its internal struggles. Aquilea, for all its defiance, was the side that needed peace more.

    Thorne let the silence stretch, watching Silias with a practiced gaze. The Aquilean envoy was many things¡ªproud, bitter, perhaps even desperate¡ªbut he was no fool. He had to know that their position was untenable. Yet pride was a powerful thing, and Thorne had no doubt that the hardliners would sooner see their cities reduced to ruin than accept what they perceived as surrender.

    "You speak of necessity," Thorne said at last. "That Aquilea never sought war, only refused to kneel. But necessity, like war, is a matter of perspective. Valyrya¡¯s necessity demanded expansion. Yours demanded resistance. And now, here we stand, staring at the cost of both."

    Silias¡¯s jaw tightened. "Is that how you justify it? That your hunger was simply a force of nature? That we were nothing more than stones in the river¡¯s path?"

    Thorne tilted his head slightly. "You mistake my meaning. This is not about justification, it never was. It is about reality. Aquilea has fought because it believed it must. Valyrya has conquered because it could. Now the war has bled both our nations dry, and the only question that remains is whether you will keep bleeding out of principle."

    A silence settled between them, heavy with unsaid truths.

    Silias let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Hah¡­ you speak grandly, Thorne. But let me tell you something. Even if you were to outline a treaty fair enough to mend our wounds, why should Aquilea sign it? Why not continue to collude with the Daemons, using their distractions to keep your fleet off balance? From where I stand, it seems your empire''s stronghold is nothing more than a sandcastle, slowly eroded by the relentless tides."

    Thorne''s eyes narrowed imperceptibly at the retort, but he kept his voice calm and deliberate. "You would rather see your people squander their strength chasing illusions, than forge a lasting peace? A sandcastle, you say? Yet even a castle built of sand can be rebuilt when the tide recedes, if only the builders have the will to do so."

    Silias smiled. A slow, knowing expression, more akin to a predator baring its teeth than an act of amusement. "A poetic sentiment, Thorne. But tell me this, if Valyrya is so willing to rebuild after every tide, why did you salt the earth where our cities once stood?"

    Thorne¡¯s composure faltered, just for a fraction of a second. It was the smallest of pauses, the briefest tightening of his jaw, but Silias saw it.

    "Ah," Silias murmured, leaning back with a quiet chuckle. "You speak of pragmatism. Of necessity. Yet your empire did not merely conquer, it made sure we could not rise again. When Valyrya took our outer colonies on shallower lands, it did not just occupy them; it razed them, drowned them in fire, made sure no Aquilean child could ever call those waters home again. Do not mistake me, Thorne, I understand war. I understand cruelty. But do not stand before me and pretend this was just the natural order of things."

    Thorne¡¯s fingers curled slightly at his side, though his face betrayed nothing.

    Silias continued, his tone deceptively light. "So tell me, Valyryan. If your empire truly desires peace, if you wish for Aquilea to believe your words, will you return to us what you have stolen?"

    The silence that followed was different from before. Heavier.

    Thorne spoke at last, his voice measured but lacking its usual certainty. ¡°I¡­ cannot guarantee that.¡±

    Silias exhaled sharply through his nose, something between a scoff and a sigh. ¡°Then what guarantee do you offer, Thorne? What promise can Valyrya make that is not just another illusion?¡± He leaned forward. ¡°Or is this peace merely another tactic? A pause until your empire finds the strength to finish what it started?¡±

    Thorne straightened, regaining his composure, but Silias had already seen the moment of hesitation. And hesitation, in negotiations like these, was blood in the water.

    ¡°I do not deal in illusions,¡± Thorne said finally. ¡°Nor do I offer empty assurances. What was taken cannot be undone overnight. But peace¡ªtrue peace¡ªdemands compromise.¡± He met Silias¡¯s gaze. ¡°So I ask again, what would it take for Aquilea to believe in this peace? If not the return of outposts, then what?¡±

    Silias considered him for a long moment, then leaned back. ¡°Reparations,¡± he said at last. ¡°For every city razed, every life taken, every future stolen. If you will not return the outposts, then you will pay for what was lost.¡±

    Thorne did not react immediately. Such demands were expected, though expected did not make them any less formidable. "That will not be an easy demand to meet," he conceded. "But how much are you seeking?"

    Silias leaned back as if to ponder.

    Conversion rates between the Valyryan Virs and the Aquilean Lumen were notoriously complex. A twisted arithmetic where the Virs, a paper currency backed by gold, had little in common with the Lumen, the rare metals mined from the depths of the seas. Add to that the tangled history of both empires¡ªa ledger of grudges, betrayals, and bloodshed¡ªand the sum became a battleground in its own right.

    ¡°Six hundred million Virs.¡± Silisa finally said.

    Silence followed. A beat. Two. Thorne did not flinch.

    ¡°Six hundred million,¡± he repeated. Not a question, nor quite a challenge.

    ¡°And,¡± Silias continued, ¡°a reduction of your naval presence in the Swirling Ocean. As well as unrestricted movement for my people through your territories there.¡±

    There it was. The full demand laid bare.

    Thorne was not a career bureaucrat. He was a diplomat, a messenger, not a decision-maker. The authority to accept or reject such terms lay far beyond him. But that did not mean he was powerless.

    Six hundred million Virs. A staggering amount to the common citizen, but to an empire? It was a year''s worth of subsidies, meaning it was manageable in theory. But with a war raging on land, resources stretched thin, such a request would be anything but simple.

    For now, he needed to buy time.

    ¡°I see¡­¡± Thorne exhaled, measuring his words. ¡°Very well. I will relay your terms to my superiors.¡±

    Silias studied him, as if weighing the sincerity of that promise. Then, with a slight incline of his head, he spoke.

    ¡°Do that. And tell them this.¡± His voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. ¡°The tides will not wait forever.¡±

    A polite dismissal. The negotiations was over.

    Thorne dipped his head in acknowledgment, then turned, his gaze drifting momentarily toward the horizon. The ocean stretched vast and serene before him, belying the storm brewing beneath its surface. Then, without another word, he strode toward the waiting rowboat, where a sailor stood ready.

    The moment he sat down, the boat rocked gently with the waves. He let out a slow breath.

    Now came the hard part.

    He needed to convince those above him that six hundred million Virs and a strategic naval retreat were not concessions, but investments. Pawns traded for something far greater down the line.

    ¡°Hah¡­ so much for retirement.¡±

    <hr>

    ¡°But Your Majesty, that¡¯s¡ª¡±

    Ries barely managed to protest before the Empress¡¯ voice, refined and effortlessly commanding, cut through the telephone line.

    ¡°Ohoho, Lady Katzennia, pray do not burden thy mind with undue consternation,¡± the Empress chuckled, a silken amusement laced in her tone. ¡°As I have said, Democratic Centralism, at its core, is a most fitting structure for my empire.¡±

    Ries clenched her jaw. ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ah, let me remind you,¡± the Empress interjected, her voice never losing its elegance, ¡°that the present constitution, though enshrined with noble intent, is but a vessel, subject to the tides of necessity and wisdom, or the betrayal of its constituents. It was not writ upon stone, no, it was penned by men, and what men have wrought, men may amend.¡±

    Ries¡¯s tail flicked in irritation, her ears flattening slightly. ¡°With all due respect, Your Majesty, this isn''t just an amendment. This is a complete restructuring of governance. If you centralize all authority under the Crown while keeping the illusion of representation, people will see through it.¡±

    The Empress let out a soft, knowing hum. ¡°Shall they? Or shall they see what is placed before them? The semblance of choice oft placates even the most unruly of spirits. A council may debate, a chamber may bicker, but who, pray, shall hold the pen when the final decree is writ?¡±

    Ries exhaled sharply through her nose. ¡°And what of the aristocracy? The ones who will see this for what it is, an erosion of their influence?¡±

    A delicate laugh, rich with amusement. ¡°My dear, thou dost assume they are blind to their own irrelevance. The wise among them have long since learned that true power does not reside in titles nor ancient bloodlines, but in proximity to the throne.¡± The Empress¡¯s voice lowered, growing ever so slightly more serious. ¡°And those who fail to see this¡­ shall be reminded. Like they always do.¡±

    Ries hesitated. She knew what that meant. A reminder from the Empress was seldom gentle.

    Yet, the sheer audacity of it all gnawed at her. ¡°Your Majesty,¡± she said carefully, ¡°there are already voices¡ªsocialists, republicans, liberals, even conservatives¡ªcalling for a real parliamentary democracy. The current constitution is structured well enough to maintain the Crown¡¯s influence while keeping Parliament in check.¡±

    The Empress exhaled a soft chuckle, the kind that sent a chill down Ries¡¯s spine. ¡°Ah, mine dear Lady Katzennia, do you truly believe these disparate factions to be aught but quarrelsome children grasping at the illusion of power?¡±

    Ries¡¯s tail twitched. ¡°They won¡¯t stay quarrelsome forever.¡±

    ¡°Indeed not,¡± the Empress mused, ¡°but unity does not always herald strength. A beast with many heads oft tears itself asunder ere it may take a single step forward. Tell me, who among these factions dost thou believe capable of seizing power without fracturing upon the first blow?¡±

    Ries already knew the answer. Of the many factions poised to dominate the future Parliament, two stood above the rest. The Socialists and the Conservatives. Naturally opposed, yet destined to shape the coming political order.

    But even with them at the forefront, a thousand and five hundred seats spread across both chambers would inevitably breed factionalism. Divisions would form, alliances would shift, and infighting would weaken any true push for reform.

    The most obvious example was the CDLWP, the Coalition of Democratic Liberals and Workers Party. On paper, it was a united front, a shared banner under which liberals and socialists rallied. In reality, it was a precarious alliance, held together not by ideology, but by necessity, and by the force of a single leader.

    Anya.

    She was the keystone holding it all together. Without her, the coalition could shatter overnight. The liberals, wary of the radical socialists, might ally themselves with more moderate factions, while the workers¡ªdisillusioned by half-measures¡ªcould swing toward extremism. The CDLWP¡¯s strength lay in its sheer numbers, but numbers alone could never ensure stability.

    And the Empress knew this all too well.

    Ries never considered herself a politician, even after assuming the mantle of Prime Minister. Yet her heritage inclined her to sympathize with the Socialists.

    When the Empress had earlier declared her intentions over the telephone, Ries had replied with measured resignation, ¡°I will discuss this with my advisors.¡±

    The Empress had chuckled in refined amusement, ¡°Naturally. Very well, I shall continue my bath,¡± and with that, the line had gone dead.

    Ries slowly set the receiver aside and sighed heavily. Great, another job added to her ever-growing list.

    Moments later, Clarissa entered, placing a folder on her desk. ¡°Madam Prime Minister, a document from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.¡±

    Ries brightened. ¡°Ah! Is it the update on the Aquilean peace negotiations?¡± She swept the rather thin document across her desk and flipped it open, scanning its contents.

    ¡°Fancy yourself excited over foreign affairs, Madam?¡± Clarissa teased.

    Ries¡¯s feline ears twitched, but she ignored the jab. ¡°No mention of any counteroffers¡­ Thorne must still be stalling.¡±

    ¡°Buying time,¡± Clarissa agreed. ¡°Standard diplomacy.¡±

    Ries clicked her tongue. Six hundred million Virs was hardly an insurmountable sum on paper. The real sticking point was the naval retreat. The Swirling Ocean was the strategic artery, the lifeline of Imperial trade and influence. Any concession there would be met with fierce resistance, not only from the military but also from the aristocracy, the industrialists, and every bureaucrat invested in maintaining Imperial dominance.

    ¡°Clarissa, help me tone these terms down,¡± she instructed, picking up a red pen. As she scribbled annotations on the document.

    ¡°Six hundred million? No, that must be reduced. Reduction of capital ships? Allow, at most, two battleships, those with eight batteries remain indispensable. Reduction of support vessels by seventy-five percent? Better scale it back to fifty. Extend the reduction period. Narrow the DMZ¡¯s radius. And ¡®no aviation vehicles¡¯? Nonsense.¡±

    Clarissa leaned over, watching as Ries methodically sliced through line after line with ruthless efficiency. ¡°You¡¯re gutting their demands,¡± Clarissa remarked, a trace of admiration in her tone.

    ¡°I¡¯m making them realistic,¡± Ries corrected coolly. ¡°If we hand them everything on a silver platter, we might as well paint a target on our backs for the next opportunist waiting to pounce.¡±

    Clarissa nodded, crossing her arms. "They¡¯ll push back, you know."

    "Of course," Ries muttered, circling another section aggressively. "But that''s the point. We let them believe they¡¯ve forced us to negotiate, make them fight for every concession, and by the time we reach an agreement, they''ll think they¡¯ve won something."

    Clarissa smirked. "Classic compromise. Give them just enough to save face."

    Ries set the pen down and cracked her knuckles. ¡°Exactly. Now, let¡¯s see how much they¡¯re willing to bleed for it.¡±

    Clarissa picked up the revised document and gave it a careful once-over. ¡°I¡¯ll have this drafted formally and sent back through the proper channels. Expect Thorne to respond with his usual complaints from the Aquileans.¡±

    Ries stretched languidly. ¡°Let them complain. If they truly desire peace, they¡¯ll take what they can get. It¡¯s a matter of attrition, after all. Who can bleed themselves dry first?¡±

    "Yes, though I think we are forgetting something, or someone..."

    Ries shrugged. ¡°By the way, I¡¯m taking a quick nap.¡±

    Clarissa raised an eyebrow but only managed a nod before the office door clicked shut.

    <hr>

    To be fair to Lord-Admiral Montague, never in his illustrious career had he envisioned himself adrift in the middle of the ocean, alone in a rowboat, left to the mercy of the waves. He had attempted to row, of course¡ªif only for the sake of his pride¡ªbut after thirty grueling minutes, he had abandoned the effort with a heavy sigh. Instead, he had settled into the boat¡¯s creaking hull, propping his hat over his face, and resigned himself to a well-earned nap.

    At least the Aquileans had been generous enough to provide food and water. For how long? Who could say? Perhaps until they figured out what to do with a high-ranking Imperial officer stranded in their waters or when an Imperial patrol finds him.

    Montague exhaled slowly, staring up at the endless blue sky.

    Welp... perhaps retirement isn¡¯t such a bad idea after all.

 Part XXIX: All Quiet on the Western Front

    Kravan was many things.

    Born to a lesser subrace of Daemons¡ªphysically weaker than their kin but gifted with an uncommon intellect¡ªhis tribe was an anomaly to his own race. Among the Daemons, strength was the only currency of worth, and those who lacked it were destined to serve. His people became slaves to the mightier tribes, shackled by a brutal hierarchy that saw them as little more than expendable chattel.

    But Kravan was not meant to be bound. He escaped, of course. He always did.

    From nothing, he clawed his way up. He endured hunger, humiliation, and the constant threat of death. He did what no other of his kind had ever done. He studied.

    At Lichden University, deep in the heart of the Valkorian Herzlands, he became the first of his race to receive a formal education. There, he learned the languages of men, the sciences, the arts of war, and, most importantly, the truths that had been denied to him.

    He saw his people for what they truly were, savage. Not just in the way the world already perceived them but in their very essence. They did not conquer with purpose, nor did they build civilizations. They lived and died by the cycle of slaughter¡ªraiding, enslaving, pillaging¡ªbecause they believed it was the natural order of things.

    So when whispers reached him of a self-proclaimed Ruler of Daemons, a warlord seeking to unite the scattered tribes, he sought her out.

    He traveled deep into the wastelands his race called home, through fields soaked in the blood of the conquered, until he reached the encampment of the Imperatrice. At the time, it was little more than a collection of war tents and scavenged banners, a kingdom built from ambition rather than stone.

    He approached her, offering his services.

    The Imperatrice, young but brimming with arrogance, laughed at the sight of him, a frail-looking Daemon standing before her, daring to ask for a place in her army. She did not see a warrior, only weakness wrapped in flesh.

    "If you wish to serve me," she declared, "then prove you are worth more than the dirt beneath my feet. Defeat one of my generals, and you shall earn your place."

    A duel.

    Kravan never favored duels. Strength for strength, power for power, these were the laws of his kind, and they were laws he despised. But if it must come to this, so be it.

    His opponent was a Greater Daemon clad in black diamond armor, its four muscular arms gripping curved blades forged from the same dark metal. It was a beast, a towering executioner molded for war.

    And Kravan? He had no armor. No sword. No strength to match this monster in open combat.

    But he had something else.

    Something foreign to Daemonkind.

    A rifle.

    The Imperatrice raised her hand, and the duel began.

    The Greater Daemon roared, its four blades glinting under the sun as it thundered forward. The gathered warriors expected a spectacle of blood, broken bones, and a slow, agonizing death.

    Kravan gave them none of that.

    He raised his rifle and pulled the trigger.

    Thunder cracked across the camp. The gunshot shattered the silence, sending even battle-hardened warriors recoiling in shock.

    The Greater Daemon halted mid-step, its charge frozen in time.

    Then, slowly, its legs buckled. Its body trembled. And before its blades could even taste blood, it collapsed into the dirt, black blood pooling beneath it.

    A single shot. A single moment.

    Kravan lowered his rifle. His face betrayed no emotion as he looked at the Imperatrice, whose smirk had faded into something colder, something thoughtful.

    He had her attention now.

    The war camp remained eerily silent. Dozens of Daemon warriors, all creatures who had known only the ways of the blade and fists, stared at Kravan as if he were something unnatural.

    Because to them, he was.

    One of them finally spoke. "Witchcraft." Another snarled. "Cowardice!"

    The Imperatrice raised a hand, and the murmurs died. Her red eyes locked onto Kravan.

    "You fight like no Daemon I have ever seen," she said. There was no longer disdain in her voice, only curiosity. "What is that weapon?"

    Kravan glanced at his rifle, then back at her.

    "This," he said, "is a Valkorian Gewehr 35. First produced in 1235 by the Royal Valkorian Army."

    His fingers traced the polished wood of the stock, the cold steel of the barrel. The weapon was a masterpiece of human ingenuity, the very thing that separated the civilized from the savage.

    "It fires a .30-caliber round," he continued. "Effective up to five hundred meters. Accurate and lethal. Unlike your swords, it does not care for strength nor Arcane abilities. A weakling, a cripple, anyone can wield it and kill a man just the same."

    A hush settled over the camp.

    Now, he saw it. The spark in her eyes. The ambition. The understanding.

    The Imperatrice rose from her seat, stepping down toward him.

    Finally, she spoke.

    "Then welcome to my war, what is your name?¡±

    He met her gaze without hesitation.

    "Kravan, Your Majesty."

    A slow smile spread across her lips.

    "Mar¨¦chal Kravan. That is who you are now."

    <hr>

    Five years since he became Mar¨¦chal.

    Three years since Daemonkind united.

    One year since their invasion of the Western Kingdoms.

    Five months since their war with the Valerian Empire.

    Everything was moving too fast. It had to. The Daemon Empire was a machine held together by nothing but force of will. Stopgap measures upon stopgap measures designed for war. A reckless beast charging forward, ignoring the cracks forming beneath its feet.

    Kravan stood over the war table, his amber eyes locked onto the Imperial front. The map was littered with markers. Red for Daemon forces, blue for the enemy. The red had surged forward in the first months, but now, they bled into a stalemate.

    The ¡®blitz¡¯ into Rozafir had been a total disaster.

    He had known it before it even began. The Imperatrice, however, saw every invasion as progress¡ªevery battlefield, another step toward victory. But Kravan understood the truth.

    The plan had been simple. Take Starfell within three months, at worst. A region that can be exploited for its grains and a gateway to the Valerian Empire. Their foothold in enemy territory. But the Valerian Empire¡¯s intervention had shattered that timeline. The Imperials struck like a hammer upon an anvil, and now the primary invasion force was in shambles.

    And yet, Eras, that hot-headed fool, refused to retreat.

    The Daemon general had thrown wave after wave at the dug-in Valerian positions, believing brute force would carry the day. But the enemy had made Starfell into a fortress. The streets had turned into kill zones, the buildings into barricades, and every alley hid Imperial sharpshooters.

    Her forces bled for every inch they took. And still, she pressed on.

    And as if that wasn¡¯t catastrophic enough, Eras had convinced the Imperatrice to support the Valkorian revolutionaries by marching an entire army through the Blackmist Great Forest.

    Three hundred thousand Daemons. Into a cursed, uncharted nightmare.

    How absurd.

    Never mind the fact that their supply lines would be stretched to the breaking point, if they could even get supplies through at all.

    Never mind the fact that they would lose tens of thousands to the terrain alone.

    Never mind the fact that¡ª

    A hand slammed down on the table, snapping Kravan from his thoughts.

    He looked up. Eras.

    The general loomed over him, wings folded behind her back, her black-diamond armor still streaked with blood and soot. She belonged to one of the aerial tribes, her kind was built for speed and maneuverability. But not much in the way of critical thinking. Birds have small brains, their Daemon counterpart are no different.

    She pulled off her helmet, shaking out her short, dark hair. Her predatory grin was already in place.

    "You have something to say, Kravan?" she asked, her voice dripping with amusement. She could already see the frustration burning behind his eyes, and she enjoyed it.

    Kravan exhaled slowly, forcing his expression into something cold and impassive. "Just wondering," he said, "how much longer you plan to throw away our forces in Starfell."

    Eras snorted. "Throw away? We''re winning."

    Kravan raised an eyebrow. "Are we?" He tapped a gloved finger against the war table. "Because from where I''m standing, the Imperials have turned Starfell into our grave, and no matter how many bodies you throw at their trenches, it hasn¡¯t moved the line."

    "Tch." Her smirk widened. "Coward."

    "And you¡¯re an idiot." Kravan shot back without hesitation.

    Her eyes flared. "You think you know better than me?"

    "I think you''re gambling with Daemon lives like they''re worth nothing."

    Eras scoffed. "You don¡¯t get it. Have you never heard of keeping an enemy off balance? They can¡¯t rest if we keep attacking. If we keep pressing, they''ll break."

    Kravan slammed his hand onto the table. "And our soldiers? They¡¯re the ones breaking! Dying for nothing. If we keep this up, we won¡¯t have an army left to fight! And I do know better than you!"

    Eras let out a loud, exaggerated yawn. "Blah, blah, blah. Why don¡¯t you lead the army yourself, then?"

    Kravan¡¯s face darkened, his patience snapping. "With what army?! The ones you¡¯re dragging into that cursed forest?! The airborne Daemons you¡¯ve wasted in meat-grinder assaults?! This disaster happened because you didn¡¯t follow my orders!"

    Eras scoffed, unimpressed. "Orders? What, you mean waiting months before attacking?"

    "IT¡¯S WINTER, YOU IMBECILE!" Kravan roared, slamming his fist down hard enough to rattle the war table. "Do you have the slightest understanding of logistics, or has your skull turned to mush from the savage you are?!"

    The air in the command tent turned deadly.

    Eras¡¯ smirk vanished.

    Her wings flared slightly, her fingers twitching toward the hilt of her sword.

    Kravan¡¯s own hand drifted, slow and deliberate, toward his sidearm.

    He knew the insult had struck deep. Among Daemon tribes, calling someone a savage was as good as challenging them to a duel to the death.

    Tension crackled between them.

    Then¡ª

    "Sorry, Mar¨¦chal, I was¡ª"

    An oblivious voice cut through the charged silence like a dull blade.

    A man stepped inside, clad in a crisp Daemon officer¡¯s uniform, frost still clinging to his cloak. He stopped mid-step, his eyes darting between Eras¡¯ flared wings and Kravan¡¯s half-drawn pistol.

    "Am I interrupting something?"

    Kravan exhaled, forcing his fingers to relax off his gun. He turned to him calmly, smoothing the anger from his expression.

    "Not at all, Lieutenant Jacques." His voice was level. "You were saying?"

    Jacques hesitated, clearly wondering if he should pretend he hadn¡¯t walked in on two high-ranking officers seconds away from murder. Then, deciding ignorance was the safest course, he cleared his throat.

    "The audit, sir. It¡¯s finished."

    Kravan straightened, taking the opportunity to fully step away from the war table, and from Eras. "And?"

    Jacques shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, well¡­ Ahem.¡±

    He pulled a leather-bound ledger from under his arm and flipped it open, eyes scanning the pages. "We¡¯ve suffered over a hundred thousand casualties since the invasion began. Nearly half of our battalions are under half strength. Supplies are dwindling, particularly rations and winter gear. Most of our troops aren¡¯t properly equipped for this weather." He glanced up. "And if we keep this pace, our logistics officers estimate we¡¯ll run out of essential provisions within two months."

    Kravan felt his jaw tighten. He already knew the situation was bad, but hearing the hard numbers made it feel worse.

    Eras, however, merely scoffed.

    "Soldiers fight. Soldiers die." She waved a hand dismissively. "That¡¯s war."

    Jacques hesitated. "Yes, General, but we¡ª"

    "Ignore her," Kravan cut in, his patience snapping. His glared at Eras. "General, if you would so kindly get out. A very important strategic meeting is about to take place."

    Eras raised a brow. "But I am a General."

    Kravan didn¡¯t blink.

    "I said¡ªget out."

    The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

    Eras stared at him for a long moment, her red eyes gleaming with a predator¡¯s amusement, or was it something else?

    Then, slowly, she grinned.

    "As you wish, Mar¨¦chal..."

    She stepped back, her wings tucking in close, and strode out of the room without another word. But Kravan didn¡¯t relax. Not yet. Not until the door finally closed behind her.

    Only then did Jacques let out a breath. "That... was risky."

    Kravan exhaled, running a hand down his face. "That woman is going to get us all killed."

    Jacques hesitated. "Sir, if I may... she is using our acquired laborers as her playthings.¡±

    Kravan¡¯s fingers curled into a fist, his eyes twitched. He already knew Eras had no regard for discipline, but this?

    "Explain," he said, his voice low.

    Jacques shifted uncomfortably. "The laborers we conscripted from the occupied territories, they¡¯re being worked to death, Mar¨¦chal. Literally."

    Kravan scoffed.

    "She¡¯s wasting them," Jacques continued. "Throwing them into forced labor projects without food, without rest. Some officers report she¡¯s using them for target practice."

    Kravan already knew Eras was reckless, but this was stupid. Slaughtering their workforce wasn¡¯t just cruel, it was shortsighted. Even for her.

    "Who else knows?" he asked.

    Jacques hesitated. "The officers under her command. Some are loyal. Some... are afraid to speak."

    "Prepare a full report," he ordered. "Every officer who¡¯s seen it. Every witness. Every detail."

    Jacques nodded. "Yes, Mar¨¦chal. But... what will you do?"

    Kravan scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What else can I do? I¡¯ll write a very strongly worded letter to Her Majesty, begging her to replace Eras with someone more capable."

    "And if she refuses?"

    Kravan huffed, stepping back to the war table. "Then we pray we don¡¯t all die because of that woman¡¯s incompetence. Eras, I mean."

    Kravan''s eyes swept over the war table, each piece a grim reminder of their predicament. The lands of Rozafir had been carved into an endless labyrinth of trenches¡ªsnaking, intersecting lines dug in by both sides¡ªmaking any breakthrough seem all but impossible.

    And yet, the bulk of their forces¡ªcommanded by Eras¡ªwere slated to plunge into the Blackmist Great Forest.

    Kravan scowled. He dismissed superstition in theory, but even he had heard the old wives¡¯ tales about that cursed woodland, where strange, nocturnal creatures skulked in the shadows. A place where legends whispered of certain doom.

    As winter¡¯s icy grip began to thaw, a new window of opportunity¡ªand peril¡ªopened. The season¡¯s end heralded not only the promise of renewal but also the inevitable launch of a fresh Imperial offensive.

    He had to devise a new plan, a strategy to counter the looming Imperial strike and salvage what remained of his beleaguered force. In his experience, any rational military command would seize the moment at winter''s end. The enemy was no different.

    Leaning in close to the sprawling map, his gloved finger traced the intricate network of trenches and supply lines, searching for any exploitable weakness, every potential blind spot. Then he looked up towards Jacques.

    ¡°Lieutenant, status on our landships?¡± he demanded.

    ¡°Landships¡­ ah, those metal carriages?¡± replied Lieutenant Jacques with a wry inflection. ¡°They¡¯re stowed safely in the sheds, as you ordered, and the fuel is being stored in specially insulated compartments to prevent freezing.¡±

    Kravan gave a curt nod, though a deep concern gnawed at him. Even this was a problem, a ticking clock that could cost them dearly if the machines didn¡¯t spring to life when needed.

    Pausing, he considered the stakes. The Imperial offensive was advancing like a relentless tide, unlike them, the Imperials have all the times in the world, and every miscalculation now could be fatal. ¡°We must ensure our mechanized units are primed to roll at the first sign of thaw. Any delay, any failure, and our momentum will evaporate, leaving us exposed.¡±

    Jacques stepped closer, urgency tinting his words. ¡°Marshal, I¡¯ve coordinated with the engineers. They¡¯re retrofitting extra insulation on the fuel tanks and even rigging temporary heating systems for the sheds. It should buy us some precious time.¡±

    Kravan didn¡¯t spare him a glance. Instead, he turned his full attention back to the map, lost in planning the defense. The Kingdom of Rozafir lay on vast, arable flatlands. Lands that had once earned it the title of the Empire¡¯s breadbasket before it claimed its independence at the end of the last crusade. That very geography, however, now presented both an advantage and a curse.

    The open plains, ideal for cultivation and trade, also offered little natural cover. Imperial forces could maneuver across the fields with ease, setting up wide flanking maneuvers and exploiting any gaps in their defensive line. Every road, every river, and even the scattered villages could either serve as a strategic chokepoint or a deadly trap.

    Kravan¡¯s eyes flicked over the map as he envisioned the unfolding battle. He began to mark potential fallback positions and narrow corridors where his troops might hold the enemy at bay. ¡°If we can turn these open fields into a network of controlled avenues,¡± he murmured to himself, ¡°we might just level the playing field.¡±

    He reached for a piece of charcoal and started drawing tentative lines across the parchment. His mind raced with ideas: rapid counterattacks, feints to misdirect the enemy, and the calculated use of natural obstacles to force them into disadvantageous positions. Every detail¡ªthe course of the irrigation channels, the placement of the old stone windmills, even the rise of a distant hill¡ªwas a potential asset in his plan.

    Jacques, still lingering near the war table that Kravan had almost forgotten amid his intense strategizing, cleared his throat. ¡°Marshal, if we can hold them off until the landships are fully operational, we might just reverse the tide. Our mechanized units could transform these open plains into death traps for the invaders.¡±

    Kravan¡¯s gaze sharpened as he tapped a specific sector on the map. ¡°Exactly,¡± he replied. ¡°We¡¯ll use the very openness of Rozafir against them. We¡¯ll set up ambushes along these routes and force them into confined spaces where their numbers become a liability. Every farmstead, every roadside, will serve as part of our defense.¡±

    He paused, studying the terrain once more. The Daemon trenches and the Imperial fortifications lay miles apart, but on these flat plains, both sides had perfect visibility. It was a double-edged sword: while the enemy could observe their movements, so too could he exploit every advance they made.

    A heavy silence fell over the room as the gravity of the plan sank in. The strategy was audacious¡ªtransforming an open battlefield into a labyrinth of ambushes and counterattacks¡ªbut it was their best chance at stalling the Imperial assault.

    ¡°Lieutenant, inform the commanders of an upcoming meeting. You are dismissed,¡± Kravan ordered.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Jacques saluted crisply. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    Once Jacques had departed, Kravan turned his attention to drafting the second phase of his plan. The first phase, nicknamed Op¨¦ration Citadelle, had been designed to bolster their defenses and hold the enemy at bay. Now, he would outline Op¨¦ration Temp¨ºte; a coordinated, all-out offensive that would integrate his new armored divisions with regular infantry.

    Temp¨ºte was conceived as a sudden, overwhelming strike aimed at shattering the Imperial lines at their weakest points. His vision was clear, while the armored divisions would spearhead a direct thrust into enemy territory, specialized flanking units would circle behind, targeting supply lines and command posts. The goal was to disorient and fracture the enemy formation, leaving them vulnerable to decisive blows.

    And¡­ though it irked him deeply to rely on Eras¡¯ airborne Daemons, he had no choice. Their reckless flyers, as unpredictable as they were, were indispensable for delivering explosive payloads onto the advancing Imperial soldiers.

    For a moment, Kravan lit a cigarette and pinched the bridge of his nose, the weight of responsibility bearing down on him. In his eyes, he was the only one with a keen mind in the room, while the other generals were nothing more than brutes with muscles for brains, constantly in need of guidance. Naturally, it fell to him to shepherd them through the intricacies of war.

    Even as the acrid smoke curled upward into the dim light of the command tent, his thoughts churned with tactical possibilities. He mentally rehearsed the next phase of Op¨¦ration Temp¨ºte, the armored divisions would smash through enemy fortifications along carefully chosen routes, while specialized infantry units, likely shoch troopers¡ªpositioned in ambush along the flanks¡ªwould circle in to dismantle the enemy¡¯s rear and supply lines.

    His mind raced as he plotted every contingency, every potential vulnerability that might be exploited. The survival of his people hinged on his ability to control every variable in this unfolding chaos. While the other generals charged forward with brute force, it was his intellect that would decide the outcome of this battle.

    With the plan for Temp¨ºte now etched clearly in his mind and on the parchment before him, Kravan straightened his shoulders. The day was coming when the clash of armored titans and the stealth of well-positioned infantry would turn the open plains into a crucible of victory or defeat.

    He reached for his pen and began detailing the final adjustments to his strategy, already envisioning the moment when the roaring engines of his landships and the thunder of mechanized columns would herald a new chapter in the war.

    And as the early light of dawn grew brighter, Kravan silently vowed: no matter the cost, he would see his people through the tempest and emerge victorious.

    <hr>

    General Pride¡¯s war doctrine is simple.

    If it moves, shell it.

    If it¡¯s intact, shell it.

    If it surrenders, pretend you didn¡¯t see it, and shell it anyway.

    After all, bullets and artillery shells are cheap. Men are not.

    "Artillery is King!" they said. And they were right.

    For over three centuries, the Empire¡¯s military doctrine has revolved around massed artillery barrages to tear through enemy walls, shatter formations, and grind entire cities into submission before the infantry ever set foot on the battlefield. Where others relied on cavalry charges or complex maneuvers, the Empire trusted in sheer, overwhelming firepower.

    And for the most part, it worked.

    It worked against the fortresses of the western kingdoms, reducing their proud stone bulwarks to rubble-strewn graves. It worked against the nomadic tribes of the steppe, forcing them to flee before the ground beneath them turned to a cratered wasteland. It worked against the rebels, the secessionists, and the opportunists who mistook mercy for weakness.

    Of course, these methods hadn¡¯t delivered the same results against the Elves or the Dwarves, but the principle held.

    General Pride turned his gaze toward the window of his office. Outside, Goodhaven spread along the shores of the Bay of Wisteria. A city born of enterprising merchants long before the kingdom it lent its name to had been swallowed by the Imperial fold. Even now, Goodhaven remained vital, serving as Rozafir¡¯s gateway to the lucrative Valerian markets.

    His eyes shifted to the document on his desk. At last, Valyrya had sent the reinforcements he¡¯d been practically begging for over the past weeks.

    He then glanced at the document on his desk.

    A bitter scoff escaped him. In another age, a simple letter to the General Staff would have sufficed. But with that body effectively dissolved, he now had to address both the Lord-Marshal and the Prime Minister, two figures he despised.

    The Lord-Marshal was nothing more than a relic of a bygone era. Though he still wore the uniform and commanded respect in ceremonial parades, his title was inherited more through lineage than earned through valor or competence. The same could be said for the old General Staff, whose members had recently been purged for incompetence. Good riddance. Their erasure, however, left behind an administrative void now filled with even less desirable elements.

    Hence¡­ like all good military generals, the vacuum reeked of opportunity. If he could seize the initiative, launch an offensive, and defeat the Daemons, there would be no escaping the inevitability of recognition from those who truly held power at the top.

    And then there was the Prime Minister¡­

    Why should the military¡ªthe very force that built this very empire¡ªbe subservient to civil functionaries?

    He who wields the sword holds the power, does he not?

    Or has the world turned so upside-down that they now take orders from men who measure their courage in tax quotas and trade tariffs?

    The bureaucrats scribble their edicts from gilded chairs funded from tax Virs, feasting on banquets while the soldiers ration moldy bread at the expense of tax money. They speak of ¡°stability¡± as they slash our budgets, as if a nation can be sustained on papers and platitudes! Stability? You cannot eat stability. You cannot arm armies with it, or stop any enemy army at the gates by waving a balance sheet. Their ¡°stability¡± is a noose, slowly tightening around the throat of every man who¡¯s ever held a rifle for this damned empire.

    Look at them, parasites, all of them. They funnel our slashed budget into their pet projects of marble monuments to their own vanity, sprawling bureaus staffed by their nephews and mistresses, while the army gets hand-me-downs for equipment. This winter alone we had to wait over six months because some comptroller ¡°misplaced¡± the requisition forms. SIx months! Men froze to death on watch, while the clerks deliver a positive report to the Prime Minister about their fiscal responsibility.

    And the arrogance of it! These functionaries, who¡¯ve never bled for anything beyond a papercut, dare lecture us on sacrifice. They prattle about ¡°efficiency¡± as they drown us in triplicate forms and inspections. Want ammunitions? Fill out a petition in triplicate, wait for six committees to approve the fletching budget, then pray the shipment isn¡¯t pilfered by their crony corporations selling us two hundred year old musket balls. Meanwhile, the Daemons doesn¡¯t wait for permits! They don¡¯t debate supply chains over brandy, they strike. And when they do, who answers? Not the fattened magistrates. Not the silk-robed chamberlains. We do. With bodies piled as the last line between order and oblivion.

    And to add insult to injury, the Prime Minister herself¡ªa Beastmen¡ªheld the post, making him wonder why influential positions were so cavalierly awarded to those society deemed second-class. Her damaging reforms had only destabilized the existing Imperial social, economic, and political order.

    He exhaled a dense plume of smoke from his cigarette, letting the bitter thought dissolve into the night. Now was not the time for political squabbles, calm yourself... deep breaths... His focus had to be on the war. He needed to check with his adjutant to confirm that the supplies and troops were in order. Rumor had it that a new type of weapon¡ªthe so-called landships¡ªwas slated to arrive by train.

    General Pride flicked the ash from his cigarette into an unlit tray and strode toward the corridor, where his adjutant awaited him.

    ¡°General,¡± the adjutant began, ¡°the latest dispatch confirms the landships will arrive at dawn. The infantry and artillery are positioned as instructed, and our engineers are finalizing the last details.¡±

    A curt nod was all the General afforded, though his mind raced with the implications. The landships were colossal constructs engineered to traverse the most rugged terrain with unexpected agility, essentially mobile fortresses as described by those higher up. Which could either be a masterstroke or yet another extravagant drain on the Empire''s coffers.

    "There''s more," the adjutant continued. "Along with the landships, we are expecting a fresh influx of reinforcements. Under the new law, Beastmen are now conscripted into the army, so additional Beastmen units will be joining us."

    "Really? And why would that be?" General Pride asked, his tone edged with skepticism.

    "Officially, it is to strengthen our forces in anticipation of the coming conflict, sir. The bureaucrats argue that integrating Beastmen will infuse our ranks with a unique blend of versatility and ferocity, qualities they claim our traditional forces lack."

    Pride''s eyes narrowed as he considered the notion. "Versatility and ferocity? Hah," he sneered. "We both know the real reason is to throw more bodies onto the battlefield. They''re less disciplined, yes, but expendable fodder and sacrificial lambs so that our best soldiers can fight on."

    The adjutant shifted uncomfortably. "Ahem, well they are said to bring a different kind of strength to the field, General. And the Prime Minister insists that this measure is essential to offset our dwindling numbers."

    Pride''s lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Then why not conscript more humans? Lower the age if necessary, and even draft from the noble families. At least we¡¯d have a fighting force that understands discipline."

    Before he could continue, the adjutant interjected, "On another note, sir. The airfields are now fully operational. Airships are scheduled to begin arriving over the course of this week, accompanied by a fleet of smaller fighter planes."

    "Ah, finally! Took long enough," Pride replied, his tone brightening. "How many are we getting?"

    ¡°We should see approximately six full-sized airships and about three hundred fighter planes, General. Moreover, those airships are laden with several tons of bombs, allocated for multiple bombing runs.¡±

    ¡°Fantastic! Get me in touch with the air commanders as soon as they arrive.¡± General Pride patted his adjutant¡¯s shoulder approvingly before dismissing him.

    With a salute, the adjutant departed, leaving General Pride alone with his thoughts. He sighed deeply and began to stride away¡­ only to catch the gaze of someone he utterly despised.

    Standing squarely before him was Lieutenant-General Frorence, his immediate subordinate and Deputy Chief of Staff. A woman of noble lineage, she embodied every trait he loathed of them; loud, arrogant, imperious, and infuriatingly obnoxious, if that were possible. Her youth only deepened his contempt; how she had ascended to such a high rank was beyond him. It must have been connections. And, of all people, a woman in the military? In an arena that ought to be reserved for those of proven mettle? Preposterous!

    Though on the upside, her presence does serve as eye candy for him.

    "General," Frorence intoned, her tone imbued with the refined cadence of nobility as she crossed her arms with measured grace.

    Pride¡¯s eyes narrowed, his tone icily measured. ¡°What is it now, Frorence?¡±

    Stepping forward with regal bearing, she replied, "General, if I might be so bold, I have perused the latest deployment orders and noted certain discrepancies concerning our new assets. While our air units indeed hold considerable promise, they remain largely untested under genuine combat. I should counsel that we undertake additional joint drills with our ground forces to ensure flawless coordination before their full deployment."

    Pride scoffed. ¡°Joint drills? We have no time for that, Lieutenant-General. Every moment we delay, the enemy fortifies their position. Our airships and fighter planes are our decisive edge, and any hesitation now would be a luxury we can¡¯t afford.¡±

    Her eyes flashed with indignation, yet her tone remained refined. "With all due respect, General, caution is not synonymous with delay. These newly conscripted Beastmen, together with our raw air support, require proper integration. An impulsive assault might, I fear¡ªparticularly given your exalted station¡ªend in disastrous consequence, leaving us perilously exposed when the stakes are at their zenith.¡±

    She allowed a slight, measured pause before continuing in her mellifluous, aristocratic manner, "Furthermore, I have taken the liberty of compiling a detailed ranking of the various subraces among the Beastmen conscripts. It is my considered opinion that we might form specialized units from those demonstrating superior aptitude, relegating the remainder to the ranks of regulars¡ªthose, alas, not quite worthy of distinction."

    General Pride rolled his eyes dismissively. ¡°Cease your cryptic prattle, or I¡¯ll have you demoted,¡± he snapped, turning to stride away.

    Before he could leave, Frorence¡¯s grip tightened on his shoulder. ¡°Not so fast, General,¡± she declared. ¡°We have the entirety of this night to review my notes. It would be most unfortunate to disregard them, would it not? Besides, you might not secure that promotion if you continue to ignore sound counsel.¡±

    Pride paused, his back stiffening as he regarded her. Though his pride bristled at the implication, he could not entirely dismiss the possibility that her insights, however couched in lofty terms, might prove indispensable in the days ahead.

    ¡°Very well, Frorence,¡± he conceded with a sigh. ¡°We shall convene in my private quarters in one hour. I will review your notes, if only to prevent further indignity from this endless bickering.¡±

    A sly, knowing smile played upon Frorence¡¯s lips as she released his shoulder. ¡°Not later, General. Now. Come, let us walk to your quarters,¡± she replied in a tone that blended imperious command with an unmistakable hint of playfulness.

    With a reluctant sigh, General Pride fell into step beside her, their footsteps echoing in the hushed corridors of the requisitioned Adventurer¡¯s Guild building turned to military command center. As they moved away from the hubbub of urgent military activity, the din of preparations faded into a distant murmur, leaving only the quiet cadence of their conversation and the soft glow of lantern light to mark the passage of time.

    ¡°You know, General, we have a saying,¡± Florence began.

    General Pride arched an eyebrow. ¡°Oh? And what is it? Perhaps something about being annoyingly obstinate?¡±

    ¡°Non, it is a cherished proverb from pre-imperial Romanza,¡± she replied, humming softly as if recalling a long-forgotten melody. ¡°In our tongue, we say, ¡®La forza ¨¨ nell''unit¨¤, non nel numero¡¯¡ªstrength lies in unity, not in numbers.¡±

    A dismissive snort escaped him. Figures, a noble from a conquered kingdom. He noted, with quiet scorn, that her accent was markedly different from the standard Valyryan tones. Why would the Empire allow Romanza¡¯s decadence into its ranks, let alone Beastmen? His thoughts were bitter, though his words remained curt.

    Noticing his obvious contempt, Florence¡¯s smile softened into something wry. ¡°We also have another saying, General,¡± she declared, her eyes glinting with mischief. She paused deliberately before adding, ¡°In Romanza, we say, ¡®Il cervello ¨¨ piccolo quando il cuore si gonfia d¡¯orgoglio¡¯¡ªone¡¯s mind shrinks when the heart swells with pride. In this case, Pride''s pride.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps we should focus on strategy rather than ancient aphorisms,¡± he immediately said.

    Florence inclined her head. ¡°Ah, but wisdom, General, often comes wrapped in allegory. Besides, a little self-reflection might serve even the proudest of us well, no?¡±

    Reaching his private quarters¡ªa modest chamber adorned with maps, books, and stacks of documents¡ªGeneral Pride paused at the door and turned to face Florence. ¡°Now, explain how you propose we integrate these disparate elements into a force capable of reshaping the battlefield.¡±

    Florence offered a graceful nod. ¡°Of course, General. But before we descend into such particulars, might we procure some wine to ease our discourse? After all, a clear mind requires both strategy and a touch of pleasure.¡±

    ¡°Wine?¡± he retorted, a hint of incredulity in his tone. ¡°Do you take this for a luxury hotel, Florence?¡±

    With a self-assured smile, she strolled over to a modest side cabinet beneath the bed, her delicate fingers retrieving a discreetly hidden bottle of wine. ¡°Indeed I do,¡± she replied with a playful lilt. ¡°It appears someone has been smuggling alcohol into these quarters. A most blatant abuse of power, wouldn¡¯t you agree, Ge-ne-ral?¡±

    General Pride grunted. ¡°Just go ahead,¡± he commanded.

    With a flourish, Florence uncorked the bottle and poured a modest measure into two crystal glasses. The rich, ruby liquid caught the lantern light, casting a warm, inviting glow across the room. She then returned to the table, setting one glass before him. ¡°Now, as we savor this wine, allow me to elucidate the finer points of our Beastmen contingents.¡±

    General Pride scoffed, crossing his arms.

    ¡°Firstly, what defines a Beastman? What is it, General?¡±

    ¡°I''m not here for a damn history lesson¡ª¡± he began.

    ¡°Ah, ah, ah¡­¡± Florence interjected, placing a finger against his lips. ¡°Answer the question, please.¡±

    ¡°They are animals,¡± he grumbled.

    Florence chuckled softly. ¡°Indeed, they share many traits with animals, such as extra appendages like tails, horns, or pointed ears, and, regrettably, their antics often resemble those of wild beasts.¡± She sipped her wine before continuing, her eyes alight with a mixture of mischief and earnestness. ¡°Now, do you know how many Beastmen subraces are found within this Empire?¡±

    ¡°Just get to the damn thing¡ª¡± he snapped impatiently.

    ¡°Shh¡­¡± she hushed him gently. ¡°There are five hundred and seventy-six distinct subraces of Beastmen living in our Empire. Combined, they¡ªif I may be so bold¡ªoutnumber us humans.¡±

    He set his glass down, his skepticism warring with reluctant curiosity. ¡°And you expect me to believe that all these¡­ subraces can be trained to fight as one cohesive unit?¡±

    ¡°They are people too, General, each with unique gifts and temperaments. Let¡¯s begin with the Feline Beastmen, the very subrace to which our Prime Minister belongs.¡±

    ¡°Tch. Right, her,¡± he grumbled, his tone laced with disdain.

    Florence arched a delicate eyebrow and allowed a wry smile to play upon her lips. ¡°Ah, but consider this, General, the feline Beastmen are renowned for their agility, sharp instincts, and an uncanny aptitude for stealth. Their lithe forms and reflexes make them superb scouts and skirmishers.¡±

    General Pride snorted dismissively. ¡°So? They¡¯re just moderately better than their human counterparts, aren¡¯t they? Why meddle with something new when the old methods work perfectly well?¡±

    Florence¡¯s eyes danced with a mixture of amusement and exasperation as she inclined her head. ¡°General, it is not a matter of being ¡®better¡¯ in a pedestrian sense, but rather of complementing our existing forces with attributes that human training cannot impart. Our human scouts, for all their discipline, are bound by convention and methodical routines. The feline Beastmen, by contrast, possess an innate, almost instinctual flair that is unencumbered by the rigidity of learned behavior. Their natural prowess in evasion and rapid maneuvering affords us a tactical versatility that is simply unattainable through traditional means.¡±

    General Pride folded his arms. ¡°So you¡¯re saying that by harnessing their wild talents, we can outflank our enemies with moves even our best-trained men wouldn¡¯t dare attempt?¡±

    ¡°Precisely, General. Our strategy is to forge unity from diversity. The Beastmen are not simply wild brutes; they are assets whose inherent differences¡ªwhether the stealth of the feline, the brute force of the Ursine, or the aerial prowess of the Avian subraces¡ªallow us to adapt to a multitude of battlefield scenarios. When properly integrated, they form a force that is far greater than the sum of its parts, providing tactical versatility that traditional human formations simply cannot match.¡±

    General Pride¡¯s tone turned brusque as he crossed his arms tighter. ¡°Very well, do as you will. But if your plan fails¡ªand I don¡¯t care to hear the specifics¡ªwhat then? Have you prepared a contingency for tomorrow?¡±

    A sly smile curved Florence¡¯s lips as she inclined her head. ¡°Ah, but of course, General. We shall revert to our tried-and-true doctrine. Unleashing relentless artillery barrages upon our foes, raining destruction from dusk till dawn, twenty-four hours a day, for weeks on end, until the enemy breaks. That way, if our innovative maneuvers falter, we can always rely on our Grand Battleplan.¡±

    General Pride¡¯s expression remained stern. ¡°So it¡¯s settled, then. You have your way with the Beastmen, and your fallback plan is our conventional artillery assault. I expect every detail to be laid out by sunrise, and don''t forget, you''re in charge of it. I''m not going to take the blame if it fails.¡±

    ¡°Rest assured, General. By tomorrow morning, you shall have a complete briefing detailing integration protocols, training regimens, and every contingency required¡­¡± Her voice trailed off as she set her wine glass on the desk with deliberate care and rose from her seat.

    ¡°Hm? Is there any more¡ª?!¡± he began, but before he could utter another word, Florence moved with unexpected swiftness. Without a further word, she advanced, gently but firmly pushing him toward the bed.

    Her voice dropped to a husky whisper in his ear. ¡°Consider this a¡­ form of revenge.¡± She let the words linger as she pressed close, her warm breath sending a shiver along his skin.

    ¡°After all, caro Generale, you do have a knack for breaking disciplinary rules¡­ and all this planning is making me feel stressed.¡±

    <hr>

    Ries eased into the high-backed leather chair with a confident sigh. ¡°Alright,¡± she said, settling in. ¡°Let¡¯s dissect this thing one by one.¡±

    The senior official¡ªan austere man whose lined face hinted at decades of state service¡ªcleared his throat before unrolling a yellowed document with care. ¡°If you could please open the document to page one,¡± he instructed in a measured tone.

    The document¡¯s title leapt from the page in bold, stately type:

    <blockquote>

    SOVEREIGN IMPERIAL PROCLAMATION ON THE CONSTITUTIONAL REVISION GOVERNING PARLIAMENTARY INSTITUTIONAL ARRANGEMENTS

    </blockquote>

    ¡°This is Her Majesty¡¯s proposal for a reform on the current lackluster constitution. Let me explain this one by one.¡±

    <blockquote>

    PREAMBLE

    Promulgated Under the Auspices of Her Imperial Majesty¡¯s Supreme Constitutional Authority

    Whereas the Imperial Crown, in exercise of its sovereign prerogative under Article IX of the Imperial Charter, undertakes a comprehensive statutory recalibration of the parliamentary governance structures to ensure jurisdictional coherence, procedural codification, and hierarchical alignment with the sacrosanct principles of federal subsidiarity;

    And whereas this revision is necessitated by the exigencies of administrative modernization, interprovincial concordats, and the imperative to codify constitutional conventions emergent from the sui generis federal compact binding the Empire¡¯s constituent polities;

    Now, therefore, by virtue of the plenary constitutional authority vested in the Crown per Divine Right, and in consultation with the Council of Magisters and the High Tribunal of Juridical Review, the following provisions are hereby promulgated as inviolable amendments to the Constitution of the Valyryan Empire:

    </blockquote>

    ¡°Observe how the preamble lays the foundation,¡± he said. ¡°It is not merely ceremonial verbiage. The text invokes Her Imperial Majesty¡¯s Supreme Constitutional Authority, underscoring that these revisions are not made lightly but are an exercise of the Crown¡¯s ancient and inviolable powers. When it speaks of ¡®statutory recalibration¡¯ and ¡®hierarchical alignment with the sacrosanct principles of federal subsidiarity,¡¯ it means that the constitution is being updated to reflect modern administrative needs and to ensure that each state or province retains its rightful voice under an overarching imperial unity. Essentially, it¡¯s saying: ¡®We¡¯re modernizing our laws while keeping our traditions intact, because this is our divine right and duty.¡¯¡±

    <blockquote>

    ARTICLE I: PRINCIPIA IMPERIALIS

    Section 1. Federal Supremacy and Coequal Sovereignty

    1.1. The Empire of Valyryra constitutes an indissoluble federal union (foedus perpetuum), wherein constituent states, principalities, and protectorates retain constitutionally enshrined coequal sovereignty under the Crown¡¯s paramount suzerainty, subject to the doctrine of preemptive federal jurisdiction in matters enumerated under Schedule II of this Constitution.

    </blockquote>

    ¡°The first section establishes the Empire of Valyryra as an unbreakable union,¡± the official explained. ¡°Every state, principality, or protectorate under our banner is recognized as sovereign in its own right, but this is always within the framework of the imperial order. Even though these entities have their independence, they are all ultimately subject to the Crown¡¯s paramount authority, especially in matters that we, by necessity, have reserved for federal oversight.¡±

    <blockquote>

    Section 2. Executive Primacy and Delegated Authority

    2.1. The Sovereign, as Fons Honorum and Caput Imperii, embodies the indivisible executive authority (potestas executoria) of the Crown, exercising supreme governance over civil, military, and ecclesiastical estates.

    2.2. Pursuant to the Imperial Prerogative (Art. VII, ¡ì3), Her Imperial Majesty may, via instrument of devolution (Edictum Delegatio), confer operational executive functions upon a Minister-President, who shall be elected by universal suffrage under protocols established by the Electoral Committee and confirmed by Imperial Assent.

    </blockquote>

    ¡°Here we see a clear statement of where power truly resides,¡± he continued. ¡°The Sovereign is described as the source of all executive power, what the text refers to as ¡®Fons Honorum¡¯ and ¡®Caput Imperii.¡¯ This language reinforces that ultimate authority. Yet, recognizing the practical needs of governance, the constitution allows Her Majesty to delegate certain functions. That¡¯s where the Minister-President comes in as an official chosen through universal suffrage, yet operating under the direct sanction of the Crown.¡±

    <blockquote>

    Section 3. Ministerial Appointments and Non-Derogable Reserve Powers

    3.1. The office of Prime Minister constitutes an extraordinary commission of statecraft, appointed motu proprio by Her Imperial Majesty as a non-derogable reserve power (ius exclusivum), exempt from parliamentary confirmation or legislative oversight.

    3.2. The Prime Minister serves at Her Imperial Majesty¡¯s pleasure durante bene placito and functions as the principal executor of Crown policy within the Imperial Cabinet, subject to recall ad nutum by sovereign decree.

    </blockquote>

    ¡°Now, note the special status accorded to the Prime Minister,¡± the official said, leaning forward. ¡°Unlike typical parliamentary systems found in other nations, here the Prime Minister is appointed directly by the Sovereign¡ªmotu proprio¡ªand does not require the usual parliamentary confirmation. This is what we mean by ¡®non-derogable reserve power.¡¯ The Prime Minister¡¯s loyalty and function are primarily to execute Crown policy, and their tenure is as flexible as it needs to be: they serve ¡®at Her Imperial Majesty¡¯s pleasure.¡¯ In simpler terms, if the Crown loses confidence in them, they can be dismissed without the usual bureaucratic fuss.¡±

    <blockquote>

    ARTICLE II: PARLIAMENTARY INSTITUTIONAL REFORM

    Clause 1. Bicameral Harmonization Protocol

    1.1. The House of Commons (Conventus Populi) and House of Lords (Conventus Patricii) shall operate under a harmonized legislative codex, subject to the Crown¡¯s suspensive vetum moratorium and the High Tribunal''s authority for ex post constitutional review.

    1.2. All legislative initiatives require dual-majority ratification (50%+1 in both chambers) and subsequent Imperial Promulgation (Sanctio Regia) to attain statutory force.

    </blockquote>

    ¡°Moving on to the reform of our parliamentary institutions,¡± the official said. ¡°This clause mandates that both houses¡ªthe House of Commons and the House of Lords¡ªmust work in a coordinated fashion under a harmonized legislative framework. Every piece of legislation must pass both houses, receiving at least a 50%+1 majority, before it is finally sanctioned by the Crown. This dual ratification ensures that laws are balanced and have broad support, preventing hasty or unilateral decisions.¡±

    <blockquote>

    Clause 2. Delineation of Executive-Legislative Interfaces

    2.1. Prime Ministerial Mandate

    2.1.1. The Prime Minister, appointed exclusivamente by Her Imperial Majesty under the Crown¡¯s non-derogable reserve powers, shall function as the paramount intermediary between the Sovereign¡¯s prerogative authority and the parliamentary apparatus.

    2.1.2. The Prime Minister¡¯s competencies include, but are not limited to:

    A. Formulating and implementing Crown-sanctioned policy directives (directiva imperialis);

    B. Chairing the Imperial Privy Council (Consilium Secretum), with ex officio oversight of national security, fiscal sovereignty, and interstate diplomacy;

    C. Exercising superseding authority (auctoritas praeeminentis) to suspend or amend legislative proceedings deemed incompatible with the Imperial Charter.

    2.1.3. The Prime Minister serves durante bene placito (at the Crown¡¯s pleasure) and may be recalled via Sovereign Rescript (Rescriptum Principis) without parliamentary consultation.

    </blockquote>

    ¡°The text here clarifies the role of the Prime Minister as the vital link between the sovereign¡¯s will and the workings of parliament,¡± he explained. ¡°Not only is the Prime Minister responsible for drafting and implementing policies¡ªwhat we term the ¡®directiva imperialis¡¯¡ªbut he also chairs the Imperial Privy Council, overseeing critical matters like national security and fiscal policies. Moreover, he wields the power to suspend or adjust legislative proceedings if they conflict with our imperial principles. This is not done arbitrarily, of course, but serves as a safeguard for the state¡¯s foundational values.¡±

    <blockquote>

    2.2. Elected Minister-President

    2.2.1. The Minister-President, elected triennially by universal suffrage under the Electoral Committee''s regulatory framework, shall exercise delegated executive authority over domestic governance, subject to Imperial Assent.

    2.2.2. The Minister-President¡¯s administrative purview encompasses:

    A. Day-to-day stewardship of the Civil Bureaucracy (Administratio Publica);

    B. Proposing legislation to the House of Commons under Crown-mandated policy parameters (limitationes imperiales);

    C. Coordinating with subnational executives through the Federal Chamber of Provinces (Consortium Foederalis) to ensure subsidiarity compliance.

    2.2.3. The Minister-President¡¯s tenure may be terminated via No-Confidence Motion approved by two-thirds of the House of Commons, pending ratification by the High Tribunal of Juridical Review to ensure constitutional conformity.

    </blockquote>

    ¡°Finally, we come to the role of the Minister-President,¡± the official said. ¡°Unlike the Prime Minister, the Minister-President is elected triennially through universal suffrage. Their duties are more focused on domestic governance, such as running the day-to-day operations of our civil administration, proposing laws within the limits set by the Crown, and coordinating with subnational leaders to ensure that each region¡¯s interests are respected. However, their position is not inviolable; they can be removed by a no-confidence vote of two-thirds of the House of Commons, with the High Tribunal ensuring that such a removal adheres strictly to constitutional norms.¡±

    Ries forced a nod as the official droned on, his measured tone blending in with the stillness of the room, or maybe the ringing in her head? Grateful for the earlier coffee that now bolstered her waning attention, she masked her disinterest with a polite smile.

    ¡°I see¡­¡± she offered, her tone coolly diplomatic. ¡°You may leave now.¡±

    The senior official inclined his head in acknowledgment, murmuring a subdued ¡°Thank you,¡± before quietly departing the room, leaving a trail of formal courtesy in his wake.

    Ries exhaled sharply and turned to Clarissa, whose pen hovered eagerly over her notepad. ¡°Did you get all that?¡± she inquired, her eyes searching for affirmation.

    ¡°Of course, do you want¡ª¡± she was promptly interrupted by Ries¡¯s firm interjection.

    ¡°Yes, compile it into concise notes and leave them on my office desk.¡± She pinched the bridge of her nose, the gesture betraying both fatigue and mounting frustration. ¡°And by the way, are there any headache medicine?¡±