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A MAP MARKED IN RED
Reivan sighed, dragging a gloved hand over his face as he stared at the map laid out before him.
The kingdom of Elseth had fallen.
He traced the red ink that marked its borders, now smeared and useless, as if reality itself had bled through the parchment. The reports scattered across his desk all said the same thing—Elseth no longer existed. Its capital had been taken, its leadership scattered, and its people were fleeing in every direction.
This wasn’t supposed to happen yet.
In the original timeline, Elseth should have held out for another three years. It was meant to be a buffer kingdom—a minor trade hub on the empire’s eastern border that absorbed the first waves of war before crumbling in an expected, manageable way.
But now?
Now it had collapsed far too early.
That meant something had changed.
Something had sped up history.
Reivan frowned, eyes flicking between different reports, cross-referencing information in his head.
What had caused this?
* Was it an economic collapse? That was plausible. The empire had been tightening trade restrictions, which had suffocated Elseth’s fragile economy.
* Had their military fallen apart? Also likely. The kingdom’s forces were always second-rate at best. A poorly timed rebellion or a general’s betrayal could have accelerated its fall.
* Had there been an invasion? The most dangerous possibility. If another power had actively destroyed Elseth, then it meant war was no longer coming. It was here.
* Was the Holy Kingdom involved? The most troubling thought of all. If the Holy Kingdom of Saerun had been moving behind the scenes, using mercenaries and political sabotage to weaken Elseth, then things were spiraling far faster than they should.
Reivan leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.
Whatever the cause, the result was the same.
Elseth was gone.
And the first wave of refugees was already flooding into his territory.
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AN EMPIRE ON THE EDGE
A kingdom collapsing wasn’t just a minor event.
It was a political earthquake that sent tremors throughout the entire region.
* The border towns were in chaos. Soldiers and civilians alike feared that an invasion was next.
* Nobles in court were divided. Some wanted to seize the newly vacant lands, while others feared that war would spill over into the empire.
* Merchants were already hoarding goods, expecting supply chains to fail.
* Mercenaries and bandit groups were on the move, eager to profit from the instability.
* Whispers of rebellion were stirring. Some believed that if the empire couldn't even protect its borders, then maybe it was time to seek power elsewhere.
And at the center of all this, of course—
Was Reivan.
Because unfortunately, the first massive wave of refugees was heading straight for his lands.
“Of course they are,” he muttered, staring at the latest reports.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Across the room, Sylpkx, who had been lounging near the window, flicked her tail lazily.
"You’re making that face again," she said, not even bothering to look up.
“What face?”
“The one where you realize everything is broken, and you have to fix it.”
Reivan exhaled. “I don’t have to fix it.”
Sylpkx raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “No? So you’re just going to let the nobles handle it? Let them mess everything up and turn starving refugees into criminals?”
Reivan rubbed his temples.
Damn it.
She was right.
Again.
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THE REFUGEE PROBLEM (AND WHY IT WASN’T JUST ABOUT KINDNESS)
Reivan wasn’t heartless.
He knew that these people needed help. But wanting to help and being able to help were two different things.
Because an uncontrolled influx of thousands of desperate, starving people into a single region could lead to catastrophe.
* Food Shortages – Even the wealthiest regions weren’t designed to handle sudden population surges.
* Housing Issues – People couldn’t just sleep in the streets. Overcrowding would turn settlements into disease-ridden slums.
* Security Concerns – Desperate people did desperate things. Theft, riots, and conflict between locals and refugees would be inevitable.
* Political Manipulation – Some nobles would see this as an opportunity to push their own agendas.
If this wasn’t managed properly, it could spiral into disaster within weeks.
Reivan set down the report and exhaled.
Fine. If no one else was going to fix it, he’d have to do it himself.
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STEP ONE: TURNING REFUGEES INTO AN ECONOMIC ASSET
The first thing he had to do was change the way people saw the refugees.
Right now, they were a burden. A problem.
He needed to make them an opportunity.
Because the moment people saw them as valuable, they would stop resisting their presence.
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STEP TWO: SOLVING THE FOOD CRISIS
The biggest issue?
Feeding thousands of people.
Reivan secured grain shipments before prices could spike, then rerouted refugees away from the cities and into agricultural villages.
* More workers meant larger harvests.
* Farmers got extra hands for planting and harvesting.
* Food production increased instead of collapsing.
At first, the local farmers had been wary.
Then Reivan did something unthinkable.
He paid them.
Not just for food, but for taking in refugees as workers.
Suddenly, instead of a burden, the refugees became a workforce.
The moment the money started flowing, opposition vanished overnight.
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STEP THREE: THE ACCIDENTAL MILITARY SUPPLY CHAIN
Reivan had one goal.
Stabilize the trade routes.
Unfortunately, he accidentally created a military-grade logistics network.
Because when you regulate food distribution, enforce trade efficiency, and standardize supply lines…
It starts looking like wartime preparation.
Suddenly—
* His roads were better maintained than the empire’s.
* His caravans had armed escorts.
* His controlled food distribution ensured long-term sustainability.
People noticed.
And they misunderstood.
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THE MISUNDERSTANDINGS BEGIN
Word spread quickly.
DUKE VARION’S THOUGHTS:
"He does not prepare for war, yet his lands are fortified. He secures food, roads, and manpower… What is he planning?"
COUNT ESTIENNE’S THOUGHTS:
"A masterful strategy. He makes himself indispensable, yet claims to be uninvolved in politics."
PRINCESS SERAPHINA’S THOUGHTS:
"Fascinating. He builds infrastructure, gains loyalty, and ensures economic stability. A merchant? No. A kingmaker."
THE COMMONERS’ THOUGHTS:
"Finally, a noble who actually does something logical. Gods bless him."
THE MERCHANTS’ THOUGHTS:
"Reivan is too fair. Too competent. We must protect this rare breed at all costs."
REIVAN’S THOUGHTS:
"I DID NOT MEAN TO DO THIS."
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FINAL SCENE: A MEETING WITH SERAPHINA
That evening, he received a summons.
Princess Seraphina stood in the royal gardens, gazing at the moonlit fountain.
"You move quickly," she said.
"I move logically," Reivan corrected.
Seraphina smiled. "To the nobility, there is little difference."
Reivan sighed. "I just want things to function."
"And yet, the empire now relies on you," she murmured. "You’ve become a pillar of this war."
Reivan groaned. "Why does this keep happening?"
Seraphina’s smirk deepened.
"Because you are too competent for your own good."
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Reivan just wanted peace. Fate had other plans.