Two weeks passed since the recital, and the city's atmosphere had changed dramatically. After winning, the city found a reason to accept me, and the thousands of workers learning trades did—enthusiastically.

As for Priest Code, he quickly recovered from his mysterious illness and was speaking within a week. However, he was weak, bedridden, and unable to fight my new gains.

Naturally, his mysterious sickness didn’t stop him or his people. They soon spread the word that he was invited to my home before the meeting and claimed I had poisoned him.

It was absurd.

Abhorrent.

Absolutely unhinged.

I would never, never, never poison someone with a carefully cultivated pathogen in my own home—especially Clostridium tetani.

Such accusations were appalling, and I immediately gave proof of their illegitimacy.

Unfortunately, truth spreads slower than fiction, so a conspiracy formed with the hardliners in the city, creating a political rift. Such is the nature of politics.

However, ultimately, it was my problem. If the political climate polarized and people started protesting, it would give Priest Cole a stronger voice to force his ideals upon me.

Rema promptly explained this to me while pacing back and forth in my study, her curled locks fraying from rolling them between her index and thumb. “Why aren’t you taking this more seriously?” she asked. “You need to be in the streets getting seen.”

I gave her a sidelong glance with an annoyed frown. “Can you relax?”

“Ryker, our job as politicians is to solve crises, and if we allow this minor martyrism argument to gain momentum, it will become one,” she snapped. “So, how am I supposed to relax right now?”

I looked up at Thea’s smiling face looking down at me as she ran her fingers through my hair with a loving gaze. “Lap pillows help. Would you like me to assign you a personal servant to give you one? They do wonders.”

Rema looked at me, lying on the couch with my head on Thea’s lap, and turned bright red to the tip of her ears, her mouth quivering. “A-Are y-you… ARE YOU INSANE?!” She turned around aggressively. “I’m a princess, you asinine fool!”

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of Thea running her fingers through my hair. “Then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Just tell me what your plan is already!” Rema snapped, turning to look at me but blushing again when she saw me gazing at her with an amused smile.

Thea was smirking, watching the redhead squirm. She was okay with Rema as long as she could point out that I was hers and bask in the win.

“The problem with politics is that humans are irrational, and you can rarely know what they’ll do,” I argued, closing my eyes again. “However, you can count on certain things. For example, Priest Cole is undoubtedly looking for ways to destroy me as we speak.”

***

Current Time | Priest Cole’s Mansion

In Priest Cole’s study, the nobles sat around the table with grave expressions. It had only been a month since King Everwood had overtaken Inspira, Goldenspire’s capital. However, he had firmly built a vast following by teaching trades, providing relief, and allowing religion to flourish.

Since the takeover didn’t claim very many lives, and there were no signs of oppression, persecution, or subjugation, people quickly accepted him as the new ruler.

Duchess Phontus, the blonde who spoke candidly at the last meeting, stood. “Enough of this! While I support the holy church, we cannot continue playing these games. You must concede in the short term, Priest Cole, lest we all fall to ruin!”

“I agree,” Lord Ween said. He was the nervous man who had broken his pact to work with King Everwood. “Isn’t it fine to concede to him until you can build support?!”

Priest Code slapped his hands on the table, then held his head and swayed. He opened his mouth slowly. “This heretic has poisoned me, and you want me to concede to him?”

The table got awkward.

Duchess Phontus frowned and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll say it. What poison takes a week to hit your system?” she asked. “There’s a difference between politics and this meeting.”

“It was poison!” Priest Cole snapped. “How else does someone with soul mana get sick, woman?!”

“Don’t call me ‘woman,’” she demanded, narrowing her eyes.

“Let’s become proactive for once.” A noble with silver hair and a cleft chin stood up, wearing flowing golden noble robes that added to his affluent vestige. “If we can’t find anything on King Everwood, we’ll have to make it.”

Everyone at the table gulped, save for Duchess Phontus, who rolled her eyes.

“What do you have in mind?” Priest Cole asked.

***

Current Time | Ryker’s Study

“He’s plotting against you right now? Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” Rema scoffed. “That’s the whole reason we’re talking.”

Thea stopped playing with my hair and glared daggers at the redhead, making her freeze. However, I grabbed her hand and playfully bit one of her fingers, making her giggle and removing her bloodlust.

“You’re eerily good at keeping her emotions in check,” Rema commented, her eyes sharp.

“I’m good at keeping Thea happy because I know what she’s going to do,” I smiled, brushing Thea’s cheek and making her turn rosy. “When you know someone is guaranteed to do something, it’s easy to plan your next move—or set a trap.”

Rema froze. “You set up a trap?”

I rolled my head to Rema with a slight smirk. “Of course.”

Her foot tapped twice with a red face, agitated that I wasn’t just telling her. “What did you do?”

“If I told you, it would ruin the surprise,” I said, standing up and stretching. “But feel free to make it a game and guess which crisis is of my doing.”

Rema’s eyes flashed with murder. “Ryker! This isn’t a game. It’s my job to know if something is happening!”

“He just told you what he was planning,” Thea growled, standing up and staring into the redhead’s eyes. “You’re just not listening.”

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Rema met the cat woman’s gaze with a vicious look. “Ryker manufactured a crisis of his choosing. I understand. Now which one is it? I don’t know how to prepare if I don’t know which one is real or fake.”

“That’s why I’m not telling you,” I yawned, taking Thea’s hand and walking toward the door. “Your job is social politics. Networking. Diplomacy. You know, things that require good social skills. That’s what you do well.”

Rema blushed when I turned to her, surprised by the praise. However, her face relaxed when she saw my stern gaze.

“However, my type of politics doesn’t require words,” I continued. “It just requires a person to hang themselves. I have a meeting with a clockmaker, so I’ll see you later.”

“What’s a clockmaker?” Rema called out.

“Someone that doesn’t exist yet, but will,” I replied, shutting the door.

***

After leaving the Golden Cathedral, I walked to a shop called Valeria’s Jewelry. Inside, I found a barebones establishment with nothing on display. Despite that, the wooden storefront was in the noble district, only distinguished as a shop by the counter inside.

“Unless you’re King Everwood, I’m not selling to you, so fuck off,” a woman said from behind the counter.

“And if I am King Everwood, Leslie Heartfield?” I asked, putting my finger on Thea’s lips to prevent her from giggling.

“I’d begrudgingly sell to you,” she replied. “But I’ll warn you; if you’re not King Everwood, take my name out of your mouth.”

“I’m King Everwood,” I confirmed.

“Are you sure?” Leslie asked. “Because I’m gonna murder you if I get up, and you’re not actually King Everwood.”

“I’m sure,” I chuckled.

A wood chair scraped against the ground, and a black-haired woman stood from behind the counter and turned to me, appraising me with her ferocious orange eyes.

After studying me, she frowned. Then she looked at my clothing, and her frown deepened further and further until she sighed deeply. “If you’re going to hang me, please bury me in Rocksberg next to my mother.”

I smiled at her ultra-direct way of speaking. “I think we’ll get along.”

“With all due respect, that’s doubtful,” Leslie replied. “My patience for all people is almost non-existent. I’m certain that I’ll offend you in 15 seconds.”

“If you don’t mean to harm me, there’s no need to worry,” I replied, walking up to the counter.

“I see. Well, if that’s the case, I should actually show you my wares,” she grumbled, pulling out chests and unlocking them. When she opened each, Thea’s eyes lit up as she saw the various rings and necklaces, each made with intricate engravings, filigrees, milgrain, and inlays.

“They’re so pretty,” Thea said, her eyes sparkling.

“If Lady Heartfield will sell me one, you can pick whichever you like,” I smiled, enjoying the look on her face.

Thea looked at me with wide eyes and swallowed, hesitant to accept but hesitant to deter me. The jewelry was just that beautiful.

“Do you think I wouldn’t sell to a king?” Leslie frowned. “I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were,” I replied. “You just seem like the type that sells to someone that appreciates your art, and I’m not that person.”

She frowned. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I want you to make this.” I pulled out a folder and showed her intricate clock drawings and gears.

Her jaw dropped looking at it. “What is this?”

“It’s called a mechanical watch,” I replied. “It’s an intricate device that requires immensely skilled craftsmanship.”

Leslie eyed me suspiciously. “I thought you said that you didn’t appreciate my art.”

“I don’t appreciate art in general,” I clarified. “But I do appreciate your craftsmanship.”

“Is there a difference?” she narrowed her eyes.

“To you and Thea, there is,” I said, looking at Thea, whose eyes were glittering like stars, staring at a silver necklace with an aquamarine gemstone pendant. Then I turned back to her. “To me, I just see someone who can make history.”

I inwardly grinned when the woman’s intense narcissism lit up like fireworks, and her tone changed.

“Ahem. What is this ‘watch?’” Leslie asked.

“It tracks time. Once you make it, it’ll be the standard time for everyone in the world,” I said. “I’ll make you famous far and wide and give you all the tools you could need.”

Leslie gulped. “I accept.”

“Will you abide by the drawing and size requirements?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

She scoffed, looking at the sheets. “Do you think that you can make something like this better than I can?”

“If I could, I wouldn’t be here,” I huffed, rolling my eyes. “But I can say that you'll fail if you don’t follow that drawing to a T.”

Leslie stared at me with an aggressive expression.

I returned a chilling look.

After five seconds of silence, she turned away. “I’ll get to work on it. You can expect the pieces in a week.”

“Okay. I’ll send you tools,” I said.

Her eyebrow twitched. “I have tools.”

“I said I’ll send them, not that you have to use them,” I said, my tone humorless.

Leslie huffed.

I rolled my eyes and turned to Thea, swallowing as she looked at the necklace, glancing at the black-haired woman with a nervous gaze.

“Does Lady Lockheart pass your appreciation requirements?” I asked.

Leslie turned to the blushing beastkin, gazing at the jewelry nervously. The aquamarine contrasted perfectly with her teal hair, making it a perfect accessory. “Take it.”

“W-What?” Thea asked.

“Take it,” Leslie reiterated, waving her hand. “That will be a nice advertisement for people with taste.”

I smiled thinly and grabbed the necklace, turning Thea around and putting on the necklace. I could feel her body trembling with excitement, welling up in emotions.

Leslie snuck glances at the cat woman from her desk, pretending not to notice. However, she couldn’t hide her slight smile as we walked out the door.

***

Three days had passed since I spoke to Leslie, and I decided to check in on her.

“Hello, Leslie,” I smiled. “Did you get the spring and tools, alright?”

Leslie shot up and thrust her hands on the table. “I don’t need your tools!”

I put my hands up playfully. “Then how is it coming?”

Her scowl turned to a frown, and then she averted her gaze. “What does this thing do, anyway?”

“Hoh? You’re interested in knowing what you’re making?” I taunted.

“Just tell me!” she snarled.

“It keeps time,” I replied, materializing a beautiful golden pocket watch adorned with stunning engravings.

When Leslie grabbed hold of it, her eyes widened in shock. “W-Who made this? Tell me!”

“Unfortunately, this master prefers to be nameless and passed away last month after he stubbornly refused soul mana meat,” I frowned. “So you’re chasing a ghost.”

I quickly snatched the pocket watch out of her hands and used a tool to open it up, making her panic. Then I handed it back to her.

“T-This….” Leslie stammered.

“These are the same gears you’re working on,” I confirmed, watching multiple sets of gears moving in unison. “The same escapement mechanism, balance wheel, gears train, and hairspring.”

Leslie immediately hid the gears on her desk with the papers and looked at me with a serious expression. “How?”

I gave her a mocking smile. “Well, for starters, they used the same lathe and milling press I gave you.”

Her lips curved into an awkward smile. “I-Is that so?”

“It is,” I smiled. “Would you like me to send someone who can teach you? Or do you want to stay forever in his shadow?”

“I’ll learn,” Leslie swallowed.

“Good. Let’s talk about how the watch works.” I picked up the pocket watch. “When you wind this watch, it compresses a large spring called a hairspring. That one wound-up spring releases energy, turning these gears, until it’s fully released.”

I picked up a spring on her desk, smushed it down, and gradually released pressure.

“Shouldn’t that just take a second?” Leslie frowned.

“It would release instantly if there wasn’t an escapement mechanism,” I explained, picking up a drawing that looked like an 18th-century ship’s captain wheel, only with a jagged spike at the end. On the top was something that looked like an arrowhead with two grooves that rocked left and right, stopping the wheel from turning.

“The spring makes this wheel turn constantly,” I explained. “However, this escapement mechanism rocks back and forth, only allowing it to turn in one increment at a time. That’s why clocks tick.”

Leslie looked at it in fascination. “Why are there three tickers?” she asked, looking at the second, minute, and hour.

“That’s part of the gear train,” I explained. “As this gear turns, making it tick, it helps move the other gears, allowing them to tick as well in different intervals. That’s why making a watch is so intricate—all of the gears must lock perfectly and spin without friction. Hence the tools.”

She pouted while looking at it.

I rolled my eyes. “They’re tools. They’re no different than tweezers.”

Leslie smiled wryly. “You said the escapement mechanism rocks back and forth? How does that work?”

“To do that, it uses this,” I said, pointing to a piece that looked like a jagged peace symbol, made of a circle split in thirds by bent lines. “This is a balancing wheel. The hairspring is coiled around the wheel, and it presses on it, constantly pushing it against the escapement mechanism, causing it to rock back and forth.”

“I have no idea what you just said,” she confessed, her eyes glazing over.

“You’ll get it as you make it,” I replied.

“I’m sending over a machinist to show you how to use the machines,” I announced. “He’ll teach you how to use these tools. You’re taking the first step towards perfecting your art.”

Once we left, Thea looked at me with a strange expression. “Isn’t time different here than on Earth?”

I looked up at the sky. “Yes. I’d estimate there are 32 hours in a day here instead of 24. While there are records on time and astrological patterns, we should build tools to quantify them or ourselves. We’ll get there, but we have a bigger problem for now.”

“Priest Cole?” she growled.

“Yes,” I replied. “While we’re still two months away from proving ourselves, there are only a few more days until that foolish man makes a move, so we need to prepare.”