Ries took a deep breath as she stepped into the room, feeling nervous from the stares of her cabinet members. It wasn’t the same as when she was an adventurer, where confidence came naturally to her in the heat of battle or the occasional banter. These were politicians and bureaucrats, monsters in their own right. Still, she had to remember that she had appointed them. They were here because of her decisions, not the other way around. Unfortunately.
Thankfully for her, Clarissa, her former secretary now appointed Deputy Prime Minister is a capable individual. She gracefully guided Ries to her seat at the head of the table, subtly adjusting the flow of the room to draw attention away from Ries' moment of hesitation.
"Good afternoon, everyone," Clarissa began, her voice smooth and authoritative. "We have several matters to discuss today, as you are aware, this is the first cabinet meeting of Lady Katzennia’s cabinet.”
Ries winced when she mentioned Katzennia, not quite used to her new surname. Her gaze was fixed in the documents she had before her, but she ocassionaly glanced at the other cabinet members.
Aside from the few who survived Eden’s coup attempt, and the people who helped her quietly take out Veron, there were noticeably more younger ministers. Though ‘young’ as in less than thirty years of age.
Clarissa continued her introduction, providing a brief overview of the agenda, which included matters of she couldn’t possible comprehend, letting her mind drift elsewhere. As Clarissa wrapped up her introduction, Ries steeled herself for what was to come.
“Thank you, Clarissa,” she said with a calm voice, as calm as she could manage. “Let’s hear the reports from the ministries first.”
Ries let her words hang in the air, glancing around the room to gauge the ministers' reactions. She was still learning about the intricacies of the Empire's inner workings and what kind of people these high-born ministers truly were. Their eloquence and pragmatism were expected, but whether or not they were loyal or self-serving remained to be seen.
Viviana had briefed her on the immediate crises, and Nay had provided her with a broad understanding of the Empire's geopolitical situation, but neither had given her a true sense of the individuals she now had to lead. The only way to grasp their motivations, loyalties, and hidden agendas was to hear directly from them.
The first to speak was a young woman with striking white hair, a clear mark of her aristocratic lineage if there was any. Her posture radiated arrogance, as if she viewed herself as superior even in this room of powerful individuals. Most notable was her appearance—while most of the cabinet were dressed in the sharp, formal suits befitting their station, she stood out in her lavish attire. Her heterochromatic eyes, one blue and one yellow.
Without waiting for permission, she crossed her arms, her tone already dripping with disdain and displeasure. "I suppose it’s time to inform you of the disaster the previous administration left for my ministry?" Her words were sharp, yet she barely acknowledged Ries as anything more than a mere inconvenience.
Ries’s feline ears twitched in subtle irritation, but she kept her composure. Duchess Eugen Pritwitzz of Charlinne, she recalled. The young noblewoman was appointed Minister of Transport, responsible for managing the Empire’s vast logistical networks—roads, railways, and shipping lines. Despite her insolence, Pritwitzz was reputed to be highly competent, though with an ego to match.
Ries folded her hands, her gaze calm but direct. “Go on, Lady Pritwitzz,” she said. She wasn’t about to let some arrogant noble dictate the tone of the meeting.
Eugen lifted her chin slightly, the hint of a smirk playing at her lips as if she was already victorious in securing her demands. “Normally, I’d be reluctant to request help,” she began, her tone laced with a mix of pride and thinly veiled condescension. “However, the previous administration seems to have had an affinity for grandiose projects—megastructures, if you will.”
She paused for effect, gauging the room before continuing. “I’ve recently uncovered plans for a rail line connecting the capital of the Kingdom of Rozafyr to our most eastern city. We’re talking about over ten thousand kilometers of railway that’s already partially under construction. A colossal undertaking that needs immediate resources to be committed and accomplished. And might I remind everyone, this isn’t just a matter of logistics—it’s an economic artery. One that, if completed, could drastically alter trade and transportation across the continent.”
The room grew tense as the magnitude of the project sank in. Ten thousand kilometers of rail would be the Empire’s largest infrastructure feat to date, but the sheer scope of it was overwhelming and most definitely extremely expensive.
Ries tapped her pen against the table. A project of this scale could bankrupt the treasury or cripple other vital sectors. And yet, if completed, it could be a game-changer for the Empire's economy and influence in the region.
“Why hasn’t this been brought up sooner?” She asked.
Eugen shrugged as if the question were irrelevant. “The previous administration kept it under wraps, likely because they had no idea how to actually finish it. I only discovered it when I went through old transport records.”
Ries leaned back, considering the implications. This project could be a huge opportunity, but it was also a ticking time bomb if mismanaged. The Empire was already stretched thin, and diverting more resources toward this without careful planning could lead to disaster.
“How far along is the construction?”
“About twenty percent of the line is built, mostly in the western regions and in Rozafyr. But the eastern section hasn’t even broken ground. It’ll take years, maybe decades, to complete at the current pace. Unless we make this a priority.”
If we even have the money.
Ries left that unsaid. “Thank you, Duchess Pritwitzz,” she said after a long pause. “I’ll need a full briefing on the project, including costs, timelines, and the resources you’ll need. We’ll discuss this further in our individual meeting.”
Eugen gave a curt nod, satisfied for now. “Of course, Prime Minister. I’ll have the documents prepared.”
“Any other concerns?”
Eugen shrugged nonchalantly. "Eh, not much. I can handle them on my own," she said, her dismissiveness rubbing Ries the wrong way. The young minister's arrogance was undeniable, but at least she seemed competent, even if her attitude left something to be desired.
“On the topic of that railroad, Prime Minister,” Ries looked towards the source of the voice, it was Nay. The man can be serious and unserious at times, though she respected the man for being formal during an appropriate time.
“Yes?”
“The Kingdom of Rozafyr wants to see us complete the railroad atleast in the western provinces.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, they depend on us for most industrial and wheat. The province of Wysteria provides both of those, so they’re quite eager to improve the transportation routes for easier access to resources. The railway would drastically reduce their reliance on overland caravans, which are slower and less efficient.”
Ries nodded thoughtfully. "So they want to speed things up, and they're putting pressure on us to finish at least that section."
“Correct,” Nay continued. “They’ve even hinted at possible trade deals and concessions if we prioritize it.”
That caught Ries' attention. "Concessions? What kind of concessions?"
"They’re willing to lower tariffs on certain goods we export and might even invest some of their own funds into the project—if it means the rail connection to Wysteria is completed sooner."
“That could be good. Send the full report to me, then. Anything else?”
Nay gave a quick nod, acknowledging her decision. “I’ll have the full report on your desk by tomorrow. As for other matters, nothing pressing regarding this project, Prime Minister.”
Ries shifted in her seat, mentally preparing for the next round of discussions. “Good. Now, who’s next?”
A woman raised her hand before she spoke. Clearing her throat, she spoke, “This concerns the economy, madam Prime Minister.”
The woman who spoke was the Minister of Finance and Economy, she recalled she assigned the position to a lady named Recina Helvia. The Queen of Hallenstadt, Ries reminded herself. Queen Helvia was not only a high-ranking noble but the ruler of one of the Empire’s wealthiest vassal states. Despite her royal status, she had agreed to serve as Minister of Finance and Economy, a move that had raised eyebrows among the aristocracy.
“Madam Prime Minister, as my colleague have pointed out, the feasibility of this… megaproject is questionable at best. For years now the Empire has been running at a deficit thanks to its insistence on isolation from the global market,” the Queen gracefully spoke.
Right, another thing this Empire is too… what’s the word without being too harsh… Insular, that’s it. The Empire's strict protectionist policies had kept the economy artificially insulated, forcing provinces to trade within a closed system. Sure, it had worked for a while, but now the cracks were showing.
The Empire’s currency, which is pegged to gold, should have inspired confidence. But outside of their borders, it was viewed as little more than paper. Foreign merchants had little use for it, and no one trusted the Empire’s economic system enough to see the Golden Virs as valuable. This was the clearest sign of how little economic influence they truly wielded beyond their borders.
“How bad is it?” She asked. Never having a clear education or knowledge on economics, she had to rely on either Clarissa or Queen Helvia heavily for her future policies.
Helvia folded her hands neatly on the table, her expression turning more serious. "It's not catastrophic yet, but we're on the edge of a precipice. The deficit has been growing steadily over the past decade. We’ve been pouring money into the military, infrastructure, and—" she glanced at Eugen, "—megastructures, without adequate returns. Our manufacturing sector is strong, but without access to foreign markets, we're creating a surplus we can’t sell."
Clarissa nodded in agreement, adding, "The internal trading system is essentially a closed-loop economy, which can only scale as far as provincial consumption allows. However, aggregate demand has been steadily decreasing due to rising tax burdens and restrictive tariffs, which act as a deadweight drag on both private sector consumption and provincial GDP. Disposable income across the Empire is shrinking, reducing overall market liquidity. The average citizen is experiencing a real decline in purchasing power, exacerbated by inflationary pressures in key commodity markets."
“Precisely,” Helvia continued, "Though our budget appears expansive on paper, it’s highly illiquid. Much of it is tied up in earmarked funds for defense and infrastructure, creating a liquidity trap. Though with the size of the Empire, it is not unusual. Moreover, the current account deficit is widening as we fail to balance imports and exports. Without a strong export base to generate foreign exchange reserves, our currency has depreciated in real terms internationally, leading to the devaluation of the Imperial Virs. Our currency lacks convertibility and, therefore, credibility in international markets, effectively rendering it a fiat currency with minimal intrinsic value beyond our borders."
Ries’ eyes darted between the two woman, despite her efforts to maintain focus, the complex economic jargon felt like it was spinning in circles around her. What the fuck are they saying?! she thought, resisting the urge to sigh.
Trying to wrest control of the conversation, she spoke up. "Helvia, what do you suggest we do, then?"
Helvia sighed, clearly not thrilled with her own recommendation. "To continue funding that megaproject would be reckless. It’s bleeding money we don’t have, and pushing forward will force us into austerity—slashing budgets across all departments. It would mean massive cuts, likely affecting defense, infrastructure, and social services. We’d be facing widespread discontent, and no one in this room wants to be responsible for that."
She glanced around the table, and the silence from the other ministers was telling. No one was eager to endorse the grim prospect of austerity. Except one person who stood up and leaned in on the table.
“Hey! If we finish this project, it will become the new lifeblood, the artery of the Empire! Think of the economic benefits it will bring!” It was Duchess Pritwitzz, it seems she isn’t afraid of going toe-to-toe with a Queen.
“Lifeblood? Artery of the Empire?” Helvia repeated, her voice calm but laced with sarcasm. “That’s a romantic notion, Duchess, but we're staring at financial ruin. The economy is hemorrhaging. Even if we finish the project, where do you propose we find the money to maintain it? We can barely balance our existing infrastructure, let alone something on this scale.”
Eugen scoffed, her heterochromatic eyes flashing with impatience. “You’re not thinking long-term, Helvia. Yes, it’s costly, but once completed, this railway will pay for itself. Efficient trade routes between Rozafyr and Wysteria will open up unprecedented access to resources, as well as opening up the entire country. We’ll streamline the movement of goods, and provinces that have been isolated will suddenly be connected to vital markets.”
"You're assuming ideal conditions, Duchess. Ideal conditions we don't have. We're lacking the funds, labor, and political capital to push this through without severe sacrifices. What you're proposing is a gamble—a high-risk gamble on an already teetering economy."
Pritwitzz didn’t back down. "It's a necessary gamble. We can’t sit back and stagnate. Delaying the project only worsens our economic outlook. Every day this railway remains unfinished is a day we lose potential growth. We could be tapping into trade with Rozafyr, we could be leveraging our industrial production—if we complete the project. Shelving it is a coward’s move."
Ries swore she could almost see sparks flying between Pritwitzz and Helvia as the two women locked eyes, neither were willing to yield. The atmosphere grew thick with tension, and though it was her job to intervene, Ries hesitated. They’re making scary faces…
Just as she was mustering the will to step in, a nervous voice broke the charged silence.
“Uhm, why can’t we print more money?”
Minister Talbott of Agriculture had spoken the unthinkable. The air seemed to freeze as both Helvia and Pritwitzz snapped their attention to him, their gazes filled with equal parts disbelief and disdain.
“Are you stupid/retarded?”
Ries nearly buried her face in her hands as the tension in the room shifted from heated debate to sheer disbelief. “Really, Talbott?” she thought, watching the man wilt under the combined glares of Helvia and Pritwitzz.
Helvia was the first to speak, her voice icy and dripping with condescension. "Minister Talbott," she said slowly, as though explaining to a child, "printing more money does not magically increase wealth. It devalues the currency. You flood the market with more money than the economy can support, and all you get is runaway inflation."
"Basic economics, Talbott,” Pritwitzz chimed in, still glaring at the man. “You print more, you make the currency worth less. You’d turn the Imperial Silver and Golden Virs into worthless paper overnight. What next, bartering with cows and crops?"
Talbott's face flushed, clearly regretting his outburst. "I-I just thought... maybe we could—"
"How about you just… don’t," Ries interrupted, her exasperation finally bubbling over. She shot a glance at Talbott, who wisely closed his mouth. “If I leave this to them, the man might actually wither away.”
Taking a deep breath, she steered the conversation back on track. "Alright, enough. We all know that printing money isn’t the answer. What we need are real solutions."
Helvia, still glaring at Talbott, straightened her posture. "Real solutions involve hard choices. We can’t afford to stretch our budget any thinner. To proceed with the railway without external investments or budget cuts would be reckless."
“Right… let’s say we proceed with the construction of the railway, and not make it a priority. Can you figure out some way to balance the budget?”
Helvia took a measured breath, finally shifting her gaze away from Talbott and focusing on Ries. "Balancing the budget without drastic measures is... possible, but it will require some strategic thinking." Her voice was calm, though still heavy with caution. "First, we would need to scale back non-essential infrastructure projects, particularly in regions where the return on investment is minimal. We can delay expansions in areas with lower economic activity."
“Yeah, you do that. Send me a report by then,” Ries internally sighed. The meeting wasn’t even halfway and she already felt her vitality being chipped away as the meeting dragged on. “Anyone else want to report something?”
She scanned the room, hoping for a change in tone, but her eyes landed on Jachs, who sat slouched in his chair, far removed from the crisp, colorful uniform he wore back in Paluushtag. Instead, he wore a wrinkled, ill-fitting suit, as if he didn’t care much for the formalities.
“Jachs,” Ries called, snapping his attention to her. “You were in charge of the Palushian pacification, right? What’s the status on that?”
In wars, nothing is simple. Especially when fighting a decentralized primitive force such as the Palushian tribes. Though their tribes fell one by one, and even after signing a treaty, they still waged insurgency wars. Not very difficult to handle, considering the superiority of the Imperial army, but it could be a problem in the long term if it wasn’t suppressed.
Aside from committing more and more resources, it could cause a strain in the economy. And Helvia wouldn’t like that would she?
Jachs sat up a little straighter, rubbing the back of his neck as if to buy time. "The tribes are… still a problem," he admitted. "We took down most of their leadership, got them to sign a treaty—you remember that, right? But that hasn't stopped them. They’ve reverted to guerilla tactics. Hit-and-run attacks on supply lines, ambushing patrols."
Ries sighed. "How bad is it?"
"Nothing catastrophic yet," Jachs said. "Casualties are low, but they’re making us bleed resources. Every time we clear an area, they pop up somewhere else. It’s like whack-a-mole with people who know the terrain better than we do."
Ries sighed heavily, waving her hand as if to physically dismiss the problem. "Welp… just… send a report to my office," she muttered, clearly done with the subject for now.
Jachs blinked in surprise. "Aren’t you going to ask about the Armed Forces?"
Ries leaned back in her chair, massaging her forehead. "To be frank, I’m starting to get tired." Her voice carried the weight of exhaustion, and she scanned the room with weary eyes. "Who else has a report?"
For a moment, there was blessed silence as the ministers exchanged nervous glances. No one seemed eager to prolong the already exhausting meeting.
But, inevitably, another minister found the courage to stand. He launched into his report, droning on in a monotone voice about a problem that, from what Ries could gather, had no straightforward solution. As his words blurred into an endless stream of bureaucratic jargon, Ries could feel her eyelids grow heavier, a dull headache creeping across her forehead. She nodded occasionally, pretending to follow.
Finally, Ries caught Clarissa’s eye and gave a subtle signal, silently pleading for her assistant to handle it. Clarissa nodded in acknowledgment and immediately began scribbling notes.
Somehow, at some point, Ries found herself dozing off.
And she dreamt of simpler days.
----------------------------------------
“Madam Prime Minister, please take a look at this.”
“Madam Prime Minister, what do you think?”
“Madam Prime Minister, the budget is off—”
“Madam Prime Minister—”
“Madam Prime Minister!”
Ries jolted awake, blinking as her eyes refocused on the chaotic scene around her. Viviana, now wearing glasses and looking as if she'd been through a horrific war, sat nearby with papers in hand. It didn’t take long for Ries to recall where they were—back in the meeting room.
There was nobody except her, Viviana, and Clarissa. Everyone seemed to have left. What even happened after she fell asleep?
The once-pristine space had devolved into a battlefield of crumpled paper, scribbled notes, and towering stacks of reports. The blackboards along the walls were scrawled with equations, graphs, and terms that all blurred together into what Ries could only describe as a foreign language. Economics. Or as Ries liked to think of it, “bureaucratic sorcer,” or something similar.
"You dozed off during the meeting. We’ve taken the initiative and begin drafting the constitution without you," Viviana gave her a tired smile.
Ries rubbed her eyes and glanced over at Clarissa, who sat buried behind a massive binder, flipping through its pages with an intensity that made Ries feel like the least industrious person in the room.
She sighed. "Good lord, I shouldn’t have taken this job at the first place…" Her shoulders ached, stiff from the hours of work hunched over documents and scrawled notes.
“Alright… back to business.” She rubbed her temples, trying to summon the energy to continue.
Viviana nodded, “Right, turn to page two hundred seventy-nine.”
Clarissa flipped to the page without missing a beat and Ries flipped it with a bored face, leaning over to examine the text. She squinted at the legal jargon that sprawled across the page, a dense mass of clauses, subclauses, and what felt like endless compromises.
What was this section even about? Oh, land ownership.
“Clarissa, could you read this out for us?” Ries asked, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
Clarissa cleared her throat. “Article 168, Section 12, Subsection A, Clause 6-A, Subclause 3, regarding provincial land ownership and leasing rights.” She paused for a moment, making sure Ries was still following. “It states that any land leased or sold to private parties within provincial boundaries is subject to taxation by both the provincial and imperial governments. However, any disputes regarding land ownership between provinces and the imperial government will be adjudicated by an independent court established by the central authority.”
Ries’ eyelids felt heavier with each word. How could something as simple as land ownership turn into such a convoluted mess?
Wasn’t the purpose in writing this constitution to make things easier on the bureaucracy? And not making things even complicated.
Viviana chimed in, a smirk forming on her lips. “You’d think we were writing this for warring kingdoms instead of provinces. This is what happens when you let every noble in the Empire have a say.”
“Yeah, well, we have to make sure the nobles don’t start a civil war over grazing fields or some dirt hut. At least, not on my watch.” Ries sighed.
“This is also what happens when you try to combine hundreds of codex of laws into one central and written constitution, by the way. Lots of headaches.”
“True…” Ries turned to Clarissa. “Alright, let’s say we’re done with the land stuff. Please read out what next.”
“We have…” Clarissa flips a page and squints to see the text. “Naming conventions for roads, nature, public buildings…” Clarissa read out slowly, her tone sounding as disbelieving as Ries felt.
“Are you kidding me?” Ries exclaimed. “We’re drafting a constitution, and we need to decide on road NAMES?”
Viviana shook her head. “I too think this is absurd. This is unimportant.”
Ries groaned. “I’m starting to think the civil war option might be simpler.”
Clarissa cleared her throat, bringing the attention back to the binder. “Article 200 states that all public works—roads, schools, buildings—must follow a standardized naming convention approved by the central government. This is to prevent inconsistency between provinces and to ensure that historical and cultural figures honored are in line with imperial values.”
“Imperial values, huh?” Ries leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing at the sheer absurdity. “And who decides what those are?”
Viviana waved her hand. “The Ministry of Information’s censorship and propaganda department, that much is obvious.”
“Right then… let’s continue shall we?”
Hours pass and Ries could feel the drowsiness taking her from within. They flipped page after page of mostly reviewing laws and changing bits here and there. Until finally, they were at the end of the binder at the cover closed as if a massive burden was taken off of her.
Ries sighed a breath of relief. “Thank fucking God. That was it, right? We’re done?”
Viviana didn’t respond. She looked awake, though if any indication is to go by, she’s very much asleep. With her eyes open too.
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Clarissa spoke up, strangely she didn’t feel fatigue. “Yes, Madam Anise. Though we’ve ignored these two articles in particular.”
“Really now? What are those?”
“The articles regarding central and provincial governance and… elections.” Clarissa answered.
Ries cursed under her breath, her weariness quickly replaced by a surge of frustration. “Of course, the most important parts are left out. Why am I not surprised?”
Clarissa continued, her tone was calm despite the subject matter. “We deliberately left those sections for last, knowing they’d be the most… contentious,” she explained. “The central and provincial governance chapter is complex enough, but elections... that’s where things get especially tricky.”
Ries shook her head, slumping back in her chair. “Elections? You mean the thing we’re pretending to offer while the Empress keeps all the power? How are we even supposed to make that work?”
“We need to craft it carefully, Madam Prime Minister. The Empress wants to ensure the constitution doesn’t threaten her sovereignty, but the provinces and most common people are demanding more freedom to decide for themselves. Elections are the only way to appease the shouting protestors.”
“Without pissing off the Empress,” Viviana muttered, finally snapping back to life, rubbing her temples. “Which means we’re drafting an election system that looks democratic but isn’t.”
Ries pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well do we have a draft of it then?”
“Actually, yes. We have three proposals. The first is we follow the democratic example of the Kingdom of Rozafir, which is a constitutional monarchy. The second is we follow the Republic of Avarze’s democracy. The third is we make our own type of democracy and we’ve coined the term ‘Imperial Democracy’,” Clarissa explained. “Of course, if we choose to follow either Rozafir or Avarze, it would have its drawbacks.”
“Imperial Democracy.” Ries snorts, finding the absurdity of that name. “Then please do explain them to me.”
Clarissa cleared her throat, flipping through her notes. "The first option, following the democratic model of Rozafir, would make us a constitutional monarchy with a parliament elected by the people. The Empress would retain a ceremonial role, but most of the real decision-making power would go to the elected officials. The risk here is obvious—the Empress could lose her grip on governance, and the nobility wouldn’t be happy about their influence diminishing either."
Ries frowned. "So, the crown becomes a puppet. Not ideal."
Clarissa nodded. "Exactly. Then there's the Republic of Avarze’s system—pure democracy, with a president as head of state and no monarchy. The idea is radical, and it’s doubtful the Empress or the nobles would tolerate it for even a moment."
Viviana scoffed, crossing her arms. "An Empire without an Empress? Not happening."
"Which brings us to the third option," Clarissa continued. "Imperial Democracy—our own creation. The Empress stays in power as the ultimate authority, but elections are held for a provincial council. This council would handle local governance, while all matters of the empire remain with the crown. It would give the illusion of democracy, appeasing the masses without actually threatening the Empress’ sovereignty."
Ries frowned. “So it’s a charade. We let the provinces think they have power, but the Empress still controls everything that really matters.”
Clarissa nodded. “Not entirely, Madam Anise. There’s more nuance to it. We have plans to democratize the National Assembly, giving the commoners a voice. The nobility would still have their own assembly—a House of Lords, so to speak. Both assemblies would work in tandem, representing their respective classes. It creates the appearance of a balanced system.”
Ries raised an eyebrow. “And in reality?”
“In reality, the Empress would still have veto power over any decision made by both assemblies. She could override the National Assembly or the Lords’ decisions if they conflict with imperial interests,” Clarissa explained.
“It’s a managed democracy,” Viviana yawns. “We let the people have their say, but the Empress still has the final word.”
“This whole setup sounds like a powder keg. How do we make sure it doesn’t blow up in our faces?” Ries asked. “And what—who would appoint the ministers? Who would become Prime Minister? The elected representatives?”
“Not exactly,” Clarissa replied, shuffling her papers as she explained. “The Empress would still appoint the ministers, including the Prime Minister. While the elected representatives would propose candidates, the final decision remains with the crown. Essentially, the elected officials act as advisors, and the Empress decides who among them has her favor.”
Ries looked to Viviana, who nodded slowly. Then she turned to Clarissa. “Alright then, what are the specific articles?”
Clarissa cleared her throat, adjusting her papers as she prepared to delve into the details. “Under Article 1 through 55, section A through G, Clause 34, Sub-clause 17, the assemblies—both National and Noble—are to be structured as follows: The National Assembly will have representatives elected by the provinces every five years, with proportional representation based on population size. The Assembly of Lords, on the other hand, will consist of hereditary seats held by the nobility, each noble family entitled to a seat based on land ownership and title."
"Both assemblies can propose legislation, debate national policies, and suggest reforms. However, key imperial matters—such as foreign policy, military, and taxation—remain strictly under the Empress’ purview. They can propose, but the Empress retains veto power over any law passed by either assembly."
“The assemblies may nominate candidates, but the Empress makes the final decision. The Prime Minister acts as a bridge between the Empress and the assemblies, enforcing imperial policy while maintaining provincial interests.”
Viviana smirked, folding her arms. "In other words, you're the face of this new 'democracy,' Anise. They vote, but you’re the one who tells them what the crown has decided."
Ries exhaled sharply. "Sounds like I’m in the perfect position to be hated by both sides." She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment before speaking again. “Alright, what about elections? What’s the plan there?"
Clarissa flipped another page. " Elections will be held in the provinces every five years. However, voting will be limited to property owners, those with significant wealth or land, and citizens with specific credentials, like military service. Voters must have registered beforehand to vote, is literate, and has to be a minimum of twenty (20) years old for both male and female. Citizens born outside of the Empire are not allowed to vote and criminals are also not allowed to vote."
Clarissa paused for a moment to sip her coffee, then she continued. "Additionally, voting rights can be revoked for anyone found guilty of treason, conspiracy, or any crime deemed to threaten the stability of the Empire. In order to maintain social order, the criteria for eligibility are strict, but it’s designed to ensure that only those who have a vested interest in the Empire’s well-being can participate."
"We’re excluding a lot of people, right? The poor, foreigners, anyone who doesn’t fit this neat little box of 'loyal and useful.' And we expect them to just… accept that?" Ries questioned.
"Not like they have much of a choice, do they? The more dissatisfied voices we silence, the less opposition we face. As long as we keep them busy with work and bread, they’ll grumble but not rise up." Viviana smirked as she leaned on her chair.
Ries let out a deep sigh. "Alright… We give them elections, but the leash is still firmly in the Empress’ hands. Fine. What else do we need to hammer out?"
Clarissa flipped to the last page of the binder. "That’s the bulk of it. We just need to finalize the phrasing for governance provisions and the process for emergency powers."
"Emergency powers..." Ries shook her head. "Let's hope it doesn’t come to that."
“Alright, after this you will have to present it to the Empress for her approval.” Viviana slumped on her chair and closed her eyes. “I’m taking a light nap.”
Ries shook her head and sighed as she picked up the large binder, almost heavy binder and made her way out of the room. The Empress was in her palace, and she would have to make her way there.
The palace is obviously in the opposite end of the boulevard, and she didn’t walk alone anymore. She was guarded by the Royal Guards as she walked. Stared down and subject of murmurs much to her displeasure.
Eventually, she reached the Palace and was immediately granted an audience with the Empress who now sat behind her desk of her office.
“Ah, Prime Minister,” the Empress greeted, setting aside a paper she had been reading with a deliberate grace. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit today?”
“Your Majesty,” Ries set down the large binder onto the coffee table with a loud thud. “The first draft of the Constitution as you requested.”
The Empress’ eyes flickered with mild interest as she rose from her desk and moved toward the coffee table with unhurried steps, lowering herself elegantly onto the sofa. “Ah, the Constitution. Do proceed, Prime Minister. I trust you will guide me through the details.”
Suppressing the weariness that tugged at her after hours of review, Ries sat across from the Empress and opened the binder. “The draft begins with the fundamental rights and duties of citizens, establishing essential freedoms, such as those of speech, trade, and—”
The Empress raised a slender hand, halting Ries mid-sentence. “Let us pause there,” she said, reaching into the ornate drawer of the coffee table and placed three neatly stacked documents before Ries, each bearing the imperial seal. “I have prepared these for your consideration. Do examine them.”
Ries paused mid-sentence, her brows furrowing slightly as she reached for the documents the Empress had placed on the table.
“What are these?” Ries asked cautiously as she unpacked the first document.
“Two of these contain my personal annotations on your draft. The third... is a compilation of grievances submitted by the nobility and military. It seems, as always, they are not without their concerns.” The faintest trace of amusement lingered in her voice, though her expression remained composed.
Ries nodded, though inwardly she was already bracing herself for the mental gymnastics ahead. The Empress seemed more and more comfortable using whatever type of sorcery called royal language to her.
She cautiously flipped the first page, her eyes narrowing as she skimmed the title: SLAVERY
“Slavery?” Ries looked up. “You mean the abolition of slavery?”
The Empress, arms now crossed elegantly over her chest, gave a soft, bemused chuckle. “Ah, Prime Minister, you must realize by now that such matters are never so simple.” She gestured languidly towards the document. “I have provided two sets of my own thoughts, and well, grievances from the aristocracy. It appears they are somewhat... perturbed by the notion.”
Ries glanced at the Empress, confused. “Perturbed by the abolition of slavery?”
“Is it not a barbaric practice, in your estimation? The enslavement of another is, to my mind, wholly an affront to human dignity. Treating people as if they were mere chattel—no more than beasts of burden—is morally repugnant.” She tilted her head slightly. “Furthermore, the economic argument against it grows thinner by the day. The rise of mechanization is rendering the institution obsolete. In time, even the most stubborn of our nobles will realize this... or so I’ve been led to believe.”
Ries shook her head. “No, I meant, the abolition of slavery? Now?”
Although the idea seemed morally right, Ries knew the practical implications could be far-reaching. For centuries, slavery had been an integral part of any Kingdom’s social and economic structure. How then, would they construct buildings, build roads, or farm large fields without this workforce? The nobility, many of whom relied on slaves for these menial tasks, would certainly not be pleased.
The Empress, however, was unperturbed. "Indeed, now is the most opportune moment. Do you not think it regressive to cling to such antiquated systems? Make no mistake, I am not a reactionary. Machines—mechanisms that never tire nor revolt—are poised to replace human labor. The nobility will, of course, resist, but I believe they can be swayed by more lucrative ventures. After all, wealth and power are more malleable than they appear."
Ries blinked, nodding along, trying to keep pace with the Empress' words. "So... Your Majesty wants to include the abolition of slavery in the constitution?"
"Precisely," the Empress smirked. "From henceforth, the Empire shall harbor neither slaves nor serfs. The practice is to be abolished entirely. This is a decree." She leaned back, resting her head on her hand. "And if you're concerned about the former slaveholders protesting, worry not. I am fully prepared to purchase their slaves myself, liberating them from bondage, and doing so with the royal family's wealth."
Ries felt her brow furrow slightly. She could already envision the chaos this decree might bring among the slaveholders. Still, there was no doubt the Empress had thought this through.
“I see… I will bring this into discussion with my… Cabinet,” she still had weird feelings calling it her cabinet. Like some kind of fever dream. “Then what about the other document?”
She put back the document inside its folder and reached the second document. Unpacking it and flipping open the first page, Ries’ brow furrowed slightly as she scanned the document, her eyebrow arching at the title. “The role of the Temple?” She looked up to the Empress, somewhat perplexed.
“Are you acquainted with the Temple, Prime Minister?”” the Empress inquired, her tone taking on a measured, almost rhetorical quality.
“Somewhat.” No she didn’t. Religion had never been her concern, especially not a human one. Why would someone like her—a Beastman—bother with a human faith?
“Given that this Empire operates as an absolute theocratic monarchy, it would be beneficial for you to become more versed,” the Empress remarked. “To clarify, the Temple is the supreme religious body of the Khaos faith, which venerates the great Chaos Dragon—my own esteemed ancestor. Officially, they are known as the Archonate of Chaos, though the common folk simply call it the Temple."
Ries couldn’t suppress a grimace. Not only was the Empire governed by an ancient lineage tied to a god-like dragon, but now she was forced to navigate the intricacies of its dominant religion too. Not reactionary, huh? The irony wasn’t lost on her. They weren’t merely holding onto tradition, they were actively entrenching it further into law.
The Empress continued. “Their role in the constitution must be clearly defined, Prime Minister. Though I, as Empress, and as Archon, am the highest authority of the Temple, it is prudent to formalize their position within the legal framework of the state. It’s a matter of ensuring balance and delineating the boundaries of power. The Archonate may hold spiritual influence, but they are to remain, officially, beneath the throne. Don’t you agree that such clarity will prevent any... misunderstandings?"
Ries nodded slowly. “So, the Archonate’s influence will be codified but limited?”
"Precisely," the Empress replied smoothly. “The people will still look to them for spiritual guidance, but all matters of state shall ultimately flow through the crown. This distinction will ensure stability, prevent overreach, and quell any potential for ecclesiastical dominance,” she leaned forward. “We are modernizing, are we not?"
Ries exhaled, realizing just how deep the balancing act would be. Religion, politics, slavery—all under one roof, and all hers to navigate. "I’ll make sure it’s handled carefully, Your Majesty."
“Mhm. Then you are dismissed. Don’t bother with the complaints of obsolete nobles. Leave the binder here, I shall review it myself.” The Empress waved her off dismissively.
Ries stood up, offering a respectful nod as she prepared to leave. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, please wait a moment,” the Empress stood up and fixed her dress. Before handing her a paper document. “Do sign my decree.”
Ries looked down on the paper. Looks like she was serious about the whole abolition thing.
When she returned to her office, it was well into the afternoon. Clarissa had stacked neat piles of paper onto her desk, each labeled in order of importance. These were papers, documents she had to personally rubber stamp and pass into law.
She sighed as soon as she sat down. Each document represented yet another layer of bureaucracy, decisions that would ripple through the empire. Some were minor regulations, others carried more significant consequences.
Pen, ready.
Rubber stamp, ready.
“Let’s see…”
One of the more pressing issues were to restore the public’s confidence in the government. Currently, they see it as a bloated, corrupt machine. The government’s image had been marred by scandals, incompetence, and what most saw as an indifference to the common folk.
She picked up the top file and began flipping through its contents. "Public confidence, huh?"
Though she wholeheartedly agreed that the government was corrupt, bloated, and marred by scandals, Ries had to admit it was also frighteningly efficient. It managed to govern a sprawling empire, after all. There was no denying the cold, bureaucratic machine had its uses, especially when it came to maintaining order across vast territories.
But for all it’s efficiency, it has a glaring drawback. It’s size.
Too big too fail, and too big to care.
The system’s sheer enormity made it slow, unresponsive to the needs of the people. It was as if the government operated in its own world, far removed from the daily struggles of its citizens. Decisions were made in distant offices by people who would never set foot in the streets of the common folk. It was a machine, all right—one that churned relentlessly but with little regard for those caught in its gears.
Imagine being a common citizen just trying to apply for something as simple as a license. The process itself seemed designed to drain your patience and hope. First, you'd have to visit a government office, fill out a form—after waiting in a long line, of course. After submitting that form, you’d be told to return the next day, no exceptions.
When you return, you’re required to bring a set of relevant documents. No problem, right? Except if you forgot even one, the whole application was rejected immediately, forcing you to start over. Assuming you had everything, you'd then wait a few hours for an examination or assessment, only to be told to return again the next day.
On the third day, you'd bring even more documents, maybe take another test, and be told that the final decision could take up to two weeks. Two weeks! And through it all, you were expected to carry every single piece of paper related to your case—missing even one meant the entire process would collapse in on itself, throwing you back to the start. There were no exceptions, no leniency, no understanding. Just more bureaucracy.
And it wasn’t just the common citizens suffering under this oppressive bureaucracy—nobles, too, were subject to the same mind-numbing process. Even with their influence and status, they had to wade through the same swamp of endless paperwork and procedural hurdles. But perhaps most concerning of all was the toll it took on the business sector, particularly the entrepreneurs and industrialists who built the factories and products that kept the empire’s economy running.
These were the people whose innovation and hard work created jobs, produced goods, and fueled progress. Yet, they found themselves entangled in the same web of inefficiency. Starting a business, securing contracts, or acquiring permits took weeks, sometimes months, as they were forced to jump through bureaucratic hoops just to keep their enterprises afloat. Every delay cost them time, money, and opportunities. And of course, economic growth.
So Ries’ job was clear, then. To cut the red tape. But how?
Luckily, Clarissa had drafted possible solutions on the paper she’s holding right now. Along with a fifty-page document on the whole thing… oh boy more reading.
She sighed and flipped open the thick document. Fifty pages of this? She thought, Clarissa had been thorough—she had to give her credit for that—but the sheer volume of information felt overwhelming.
The first section outlined the key inefficiencies in the system, breaking down the complex web of offices, approvals, and middlemen that clogged up every process.
The proposed solution was to merge redundant offices and cut down the number of steps in common procedures. Clarissa had also suggested to expand the filling system used by the ISD and apply it across all government departments. The ISD’s record-keeping system was known for its meticulous organization and efficiency—every document filed and retrievable in mere minutes. If they could implement something similar across the other ministries, it would save countless hours of bureaucratic headaches.
Ries leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen on the desk. Expanding the ISD’s filing system was a solid start, but it wasn’t a magic fix. There were still deep-seated issues in how the Empire functioned—too many layers of approvals, too many people involved in decisions that could be made much faster.
Could it be fixed using technology? It may be expensive and untested, sure, but technology had gone a long way. She passed by a store selling this new item called Televisions. Fascinating, but expensive.
If not technology… Her mind drifted toward the arcane. Magic had long been a tool of the Empire, though everyone can manifest them, it is used primarily by the nobility and powerful institutions. While it was more stable and reliable than most experimental technologies, it carried its own set of problems. The Arcane Arts were expensive to harness and required highly trained practitioners, most of whom had their own agendas and loyalties. Still, it was an untapped resource in the realm of administration.
What if they could use magic to bypass some of the bureaucratic hurdles? Spells for rapid communication between departments, enchantments that could organize and sort documents, or even magically bound contracts that could instantly finalize approvals once conditions were met.
These were far more efficient than any telegraph, human workforce, or any middlemen.
The Arcane Arts could cut the red tape, but how to integrate it without giving more power to the nobles who already control most of it?
Skimming through the pages, a note made by Clarissa caught her eye. “Consider a partnership with the neutral academia. Less political baggage.”
That was it. Instead of relying on noble families who would leverage their arcane power for political gain, she could form partnerships with the independent academia. They wouldn’t be tied to the aristocracy—ostensibly—and their students and researchers were often eager for opportunities to test their theories in practical applications.
She immediately closed the document and searched for another report that had caught her attention earlier. Her eyes scanned the desk, and then—there it was. She snatched it up and quickly began flipping through the pages. A request for a bail out from the Valerian Royal Academy.
The Academy, with its sprawling campus nestled on the outskirts of the capital, functioned like a self-contained city, its own micro-state, if you will. Far enough to enjoy its independence, but close enough to maintain influence. She didn’t know all the specifics, but she knew enough that it was a massive institution, home to thousands of staff members and even more students. Its reputation for academic and arcane excellence was unparalleled, especially among the aristocratic elite who sent their heirs to study there.
Recently, though, the Academy had been hemorrhaging money, spending far more than it could sustain. For an institution of its stature, that wasn’t surprising—prestige came with a price. They had expensive tastes, from research projects that devoured funds to the upkeep of the ancient buildings. Now they were coming to her, hat in hand, seeking financial support.
Perfect. She could grant them their funding in exchange for their assistance. It wasn’t blackmail—it was just… politics. An exchange of favors. Classic.
“Ries, you genius,” she thought to herself, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “You’ve done it again.”
Just then, the door creaked open, and Clarissa’s head appeared. "Madam Prime Minister," she said. "They’re ready for you."
Ries blinked, momentarily pulled from her victorious reverie. "Who?"
"The radio broadcasters," Clarissa explained. "The equipment is set up, and it’s time for your first broadcast."
“…”
I have a broadcast!?
----------------------------------------
“I’m home,” Herman entered his house after another day of heavy work, setting down his worn satchel by the door. His literacy helped him get a job at a warehouse as a Supervisor.
His wife, Clara, looked up from the kitchen, smiling softly at him as he entered. The smell of stew filled the small but cozy home.
"Welcome back," Clara greeted, wiping her hands on a cloth. "Dinner's almost ready."
Herman stretched, his back aching from another long day at the warehouse. His position as a supervisor was a step up from his previous job as a dockworker, and his literacy had helped him secure it. But the long hours and responsibility still weighed heavily on him.
"How was work today?" Clara asked, setting the table with simple wooden plates and utensils.
"Busy as ever," Herman said, sitting down with a sigh. "The paperwork’s piling up. Never thought I’d miss just moving crates." He chuckled wearily.
Clara smiled. “Anna bought a radio, just today.”
“What?!” Herman sat up straighter, his brow furrowing. "A radio? How much did she spend on that?"
Clara chuckled softly, brushing off his worry. "It wasn’t as expensive as you might think. She saved up for months and got a second-hand one from old Felton. Apparently, he’s upgrading to a fancier model."
Herman shook his head, still incredulous. "A radio... in our house. What's the world coming to?"
"You should've seen her face when she brought it in, like she’d just won the lottery."
"Well, I hope she knows how to use it. What does she plan to listen to anyway?"
Clara shrugged. "News, music, stories... maybe she’ll learn something useful. It's all the rage in the city now."
Herman sighed. “Just propaganda all around… What about her tuition? I can’t let her opportunity to go to the Academy slip by, three hundred GOLDEN Virs PER term, how ridiculous is that?!”
“Dinner’s ready. Can you call out Anna? She’s in her room.”
Herman nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Three hundred Golden Virs... I’ll never get used to that," he muttered as he stood up. "Alright, I’ll get her."
He walked to the hallway and knocked on Anna's door. "Anna, dinner’s ready."
A muffled response came from behind the door. "Coming!"
Herman sighed again, shaking his head as he returned to the dining room. "She’s still in there, glued to that radio, I bet."
Clara smiled softly as she began setting the table. "At least she’s curious. You remember what it was like to be her age, don’t you?"
"Yeah," Herman replied, sitting back down. "But curiosity doesn’t pay for Academy tuition." He grumbled.
Anna came bursting out of her room, excitement practically radiating from her. “Mom, Dad! The new Prime Minister is going to make a speech!” She held out the radio triumphantly.
Herman glanced at the device, a frown settling on his face. “That Beastman, huh? What’s she got to say that’s so important?”
Anna ignored his grumbling and set the radio on the table, adjusting the dial until a faint crackle gave way to a voice.
"—Uhm… *FAINT RUSTLING OF PAPER* is this on? It is? Oh. Uh, well, I wo—I won’t take up much of your time. I have been mandated by Her Imperial Majesty to begin drafting a new centralized constitution for our empire—”
Herman raised an eyebrow, his frown deepening as he listened to the awkward start of the speech. “She doesn’t even sound confident,” he muttered under his breath.
Anna, however, was completely engrossed, her eyes wide with excitement as the speech continued.
“—Uhm… oh, I have signed a decree from her Imperial Majesty in abolishing the practice of slavery effective immediately.”
Herman’s eyes widened, and his arms dropped from his chest. “Slavery… abolished?” he whispered.
“—And, uh, to those affected by this decision, the Crown will, of course, provide compensation to former slaveholders. However, we cannot allow the injustices of the past to define our future… *VOICE WHISPERING TO THE SIDE* is that it?”
Clara glanced at Herman. “Well, that’s something, isn’t it?”
Herman shook his head, still in shock. “I never thought I’d live to see the day. A Beastman, of all people, abolishing slavery? What kind of world are we living in?”
Anna, her eyes wide with admiration, grinned. “She’s doing what’s right, Dad. She’s standing up for people who’ve been treated unfairly. Isn’t that what you always told me to do?”
Herman looked at his daughter, conflicted. He’d taught her to stand up for justice, but this? It was a monumental shift in the fabric of their world which was turned upside down. “Yeah, but…” He trailed off, uncertain how to process it.
“—I’ll, uh, make another statement soon. Thank you for your time.” There was a brief moment of silence before the radio announcer cut back in, reiterating the Prime Minister’s historic decision, their boring flat voice continued on with the affairs of today.
Herman stared at the radio, the monotone voice of the announcer fading into the background. This wasn’t just a small policy shift, it was a fundamental change to the Empire’s way of life which had existed for centuries, and one that would ripple through every corner of society. His own livelihood, the structures he’d known his entire life—they were all built on these ancient hierarchies.
That was all he ever knew, and all he cared to know.
Clara set a hand on his shoulder. “Things will change, but maybe for the better. This could be a fresh start for so many.”
Herman rubbed his face, sighing deeply. “I know… It’s just hard to believe it’s happening. And by someone like her.”
Anna stood up, hands clenched with determination. “She’s a leader, Dad. She’s brave enough to change things, even if it's uncomfortable for people like you. Isn’t that what you want?”
Herman met his daughter’s eyes, seeing her hope and idealism, and he couldn’t help but smile, albeit faintly. “Maybe I’m just getting too old for all these changes.” He chuckled, but there was no mistaking the worry in his eyes.
----------------------------------------
The Valerian Royal Academy stood as a beacon of excellence within the Empire, renowned for shaping the minds and futures of the elite. From academic studies, to arcane arts, and most important of all, combat; its curriculum was a crucible that tested students to their very limits.
It occupies large swathes of land dominated by gothic buildings, the most popular spots were the park, where students would often congregate; and the arena, where most competitions happen.
To attend this Academy was to secure a future laden with opportunity. Graduates frequently went on to become leaders, scholars, and influential figures in society, their success assured by the institution's rigorous education and the connections it fostered.
Well, except for one Elisabeth Aloysius-Margarethe. A striking figure at the heart of Academy life, who stood out even among the privileged elite. With her flowing dark hair and piercing red eyes, she exuded an air of perfection. The daughter of a powerful Marquis, Elisabeth was the embodiment of aristocratic grace and intelligence—everything a young nobleman could desire in a woman. Her beauty was matched only by her relentless work ethic and sharp mind, earning her the admiration of many.
Yet, for all the attention she garnered, Elisabeth had also amassed a quiet number of enemies. Her impeccable demeanor masked a ruthlessness that had wronged more than a few of her fellow students—especially a certain downtrodden commoner girl who had somehow earned a place at the Academy.
Among the whispered rumors, there was one consensus: Elisabeth acted every part the classic villainess.
Wait…Villainess?
Unbeknownst to the rest of the Academy, she was not who they thought she was. For Elisabeth had been reincarnated—transported from another world into this one. And, as if that weren’t complicated enough, she had found herself inhabiting the body of a villainess from a game she had once played. A game called [My Handsome Prince]
A villainess destined for a tragic end in every possible outcome.
Elisabeth knew exactly how this story went. She remembered every twist, every betrayal, every doomed romance. And if she didn’t act soon, her fate would be sealed just like the character in the game.
One morning, or night, Elisabeth found herself in the midst of the dreaded condemnation event—the very scene that she had feared the most since realizing her reincarnation into this world. The grand ballroom of the academy, filled with students, glittered under crystal chandeliers, but the atmosphere was anything but celebratory. Whispers rippled through the crowd as accusations of her villainous plots were laid bare for all to hear. There she stood, at the center of the storm, her carefully crafted schemes unraveling before her eyes.
Her heart raced, but her face remained stoic. She had played this moment a thousand times in her mind—after all, this was where the villainess was supposed to fall. Her engagement to the dashing foreign prince, who now stared at her with cold contempt, was shattered in front of everyone. He had just publicly declared the end of their arrangement, severing their political ties with a single sentence. His eyes lingered briefly on the heroine, whose demure beauty contrasted sharply with Elisabeth's now-tainted reputation.
So, it’s happening... just like in the game, she thought, a sinking feeling filling her chest.
In the aftermath, when Elisabeth had the chance to gather her thoughts, she finally began to piece together the truth. The moment she had been thrust into this world, the narrative was already in motion, and it was too late to reverse the damage. The heroine, with her innocent charm and perfect timing, had already claimed the hearts of the various suitors—the capture targets, as Elisabeth knew them. Each one of them had been destined to fall in love with the heroine, and now they were firmly on her side, leaving Elisabeth isolated in the court of public opinion.
And worse still, Elisabeth knew what was coming. In one of the later routes, her downfall wasn’t just social ruin—it was execution. She had been cast as the villainess, and villains didn’t get happy endings.
I have to change things, she realized, panic gripping her. I can't let the story play out like this.
Then she remembered. The Academy's financial collapse, she thought, her mind rushing back to the lore she barely remembered. There was an event—an essential, but almost forgotten, plot point before the game’s final stretch. The academy, burdened by insurmountable debt, would be forced to sell a rare and ancient magical tome to a wealthy merchant to stave off bankruptcy. But that decision would set in motion a series of events leading to disaster.
The second-to-last boss of the game, an enigmatic and depressed mage, would appear, intent on stealing the tome to perform a forbidden ritual—resurrection. It wasn’t clear though on who would she resurrect. The chaos that followed was a key moment in the game's plot, one that would lead to a climactic battle where the heroine and her harem of devoted suitors would swoop in, save the day, and ensure the academy’s continued survival.
But that battle would be the opportune time to escape the academy and vanish.
In the original timeline, the villainess had long been disgraced by the time of this event, a mere side note as the heroes carried out their destinies. But now that Elisabeth had foreknowledge of the coming chaos, she could use it to her advantage. When the academy faced its darkest hour and all eyes were focused on the threat of the mage, she could slip away unnoticed. If she played her cards right, she could secure the tome before anyone else, and flee before the final confrontation ever began.
It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was something.
The event wouldn’t take place until the next semester, which meant she had time. Time to prepare, to gather resources, and to solidify her plan. Elisabeth couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. One misstep, and the heroine would complete her story arc, ensuring that Elisabeth’s fate ended in a noose or, worse, an ignoble execution at the hands of the academy itself.