What is money?
To an ordinary citizen, it is a tangible thing—a 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—a 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—well… 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—like, 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—if she were to base her theory on when she infiltrated, so to speak, the Central Registry Office—is 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—the 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—garbage 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—luxuries that only the wealthy could afford—added 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—a 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—fake as it was—required 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!—uhm… 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 café 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—not 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 café. For now, that was enough.
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“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—awarded 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—knight, 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—” 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—just maybe—she 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.
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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—she 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—or 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—"
Clarissa looked up again, waiting for her next instruction.
"—if 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.”
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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—scales of justice balanced perfectly, along with a dragon circling it—was 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—questions 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—carefully 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”
----------------------------------------
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.
----------------------------------------
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—far 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—not 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—and 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—so 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—all of them—and 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.