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—just 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—three 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—better 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—a 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, “—this 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.”
----------------------------------------
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—the 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—what’s left of them—in 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—a 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:
> 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.
>
> 57th Prime Minister of Valyrya.
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.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
She set aside Wyke’s letter and opened the last ordinary letter. Ripping it off, it read:
> 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’
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’—such 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:
> 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.
‘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:
> 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—let 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—ignore him.
>
> Her Imperial Majesty, Valeris IX
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.
> 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
----------------------------------------
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—deserters 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—not 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—a 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—a 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.
----------------------------------------
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—frustrations 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—one 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—responsible 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—real or perceived—into 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?