“Not every problem can be solved by cracking heads, dear, even though it may look like it,” Lia sighed. These days, she was much more hopeful about the future and felt genuinely energized, but she couldn’t avoid the pains of old age. Not entirely, at least, even with her brews helping soothe the worst aches.
“I’m not sure the Grand Marshal would agree with that, considering how quickly that approach has seen him conquer land,” Margaret muttered, though she had the good sense not to be overheard by anyone else.
People could be surprisingly sensitive when it came to what they perceived as badmouthing the face of the Revolution. Especially the ex-slaves. They all took to her training with gusto, wanting to be useful in any way possible, and for them, there was no greater insult than even the slightest implication that Leonard Weiss wasn’t the Light personified.
Sometimes, Lia wondered just how inevitable it had been that a cult of personality would form around him—power had a way of attracting reverence, after all—and how much it was a direct consequence of her fellow ministers’ intervention.
With the cunning priest following along with the army to coordinate the intelligence department and the Spirit Summoner in the east raising hell, Lia should have had free reign over Lamprey Port and the rest of the conquered territories. She was the only cabinet member available, which meant the authority rested solely on her shoulders, a weight she felt keenly.
But she found her ability to enact change stymied more often than not. She didn’t think there was any malicious intent and was sure there was no coordinated campaign to undermine the revolution. No, it was just people being people.
Despite the change in leadership and all that entailed, most citizens had simply swapped the old aristocracy with a new ruling class in their minds. Oh, they sincerely appreciated that resources weren’t stolen from their hands, that injustice was almost a thing of the past, but for all intents and purposes, they had gone back to living life as usual, and that meant clinging to old habits and hierarchies, even if they were of a different flavor now. They revered Leonard Weiss not just as a leader but as a savior, a near-mythical figure who had delivered them from their chains.
“It is only to be expected that after being denied their freedom for so long, a few of them would end up going overboard. That they have kept to a few brawls and drunken revelry instead of something more destructive shows that our approach is working. Keeping the ex-slaves busy and teaching them new trades doesn’t only help the cause, but also gives them the chance of integrating.” Lia explained for what felt like the nth time.
She wasn’t a young woman anymore, but she remembered that the world looked ripe to take if one had the courage. Every problem had seemed surmountable with enough enthusiasm, and “slow and steady” hadn’t even entered her vocabulary. But her current methods were successful. They might not be as flashy and immediate as Margaret would have liked, dazzled as she was by the revolution’s quick victories, but Lia knew better than to leave a shallow foundation behind.
“I suppose… At least there haven't been too many problems with all the foreign vessels that arrived. I was surprised when the order came to allow them to moor as long as they didn’t break the law, with how enthusiastic the Hero had been in kicking them out, but they have behaved so far.” Margaret replied, as all teenagers not wanting to give up the last word.
Lia chuckled, peering over the rim of a large cauldron to check that the newest batch of Restorative Potion was coming along. Most people wouldn’t have bothered with what amounted to little more than a pick-me-up, but field testing had shown that soldiers performed much better if they knew they could expend their energy and recover it in a flash.
Just as they were settling back into their brewing, a knock at the door interrupted their work. A young guard, looking slightly out of breath, entered the room. “Madam Minister, ma’am, we have a situation at the port.”
Lia’s wrinkly brow furrowed. “What happened?”
“A clash between some of the freemen and a ship crew from Hammerfest,” the guard reported. “The crew was making provocative comments, saying they would buy people at a fair price. They don’t have slaves in their hull, so we let them moor as you told us, but they’ve been pushing it. They also seemed confident they could get away before any serious repercussions, which made the group that was working as dockhands mad.”
Lia sighed, shaking her head. “Very well. Margaret, get a few of the burliest soldiers from the Security Forces. We need to address this personally.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Margaret nodded and quickly left to gather the men. Lia turned to the guard. “Make sure the direct offenders are detained. We’ll throw them in jail for a couple of days. Let’s see if that doesn’t cool their heads.”
Within minutes, Lia, Margaret, and a small contingent of imposing soldiers made their way to the port. The tension in the air was palpable, and the crowd that had formed to watch the spectacle parted as they approached.
Lia assessed the situation with a practiced eye. The soldiers were already holding back a few men from both sides, and though the violence had stopped, it could restart at any moment. Given the rebellious look of the Festese sailors, she needed to put an immediate end to any bellicose idea.
Lia strode forward, pushing mana out of her body so that everyone could feel it pressing down. It wasn’t something she had needed to do much since her retirement in Alpar, but she was more than capable of putting a few Apprentices and Journeymen in their place. “Enough!” she called out, her voice strong and authoritative.
The crowd quieted, and Lia turned her gaze to the man who had to be the captain of the Hammerfest ship, given the more expensive clothes and feathered hat. He had a very punchable, smug look on his face. “Captain, you know perfectly well that slavery is illegal here. Your men’s behavior is unacceptable.”
The captain scoffed. “My men never broke your laws. We were simply checking the market since this was a lucrative stop on our routes before you took over. Release my men and apologize, and we’ll forget this ever happened. You need our supplies, old woman. You can’t afford to alienate Hammerfest.”
Lia’s eyes narrowed. “We might be unable to avoid trade with Hammerfest, but we can bar you and your men from our port. Test me, and you’ll find your ship and crew unwelcome in any harbor we control, once you get out of jail.” The SF soldiers she had brought along loomed, using their stature to the fullest.
The captain’s smug expression faltered. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” Lia said coldly. “Your men will spend a few days cooling off, enjoying my hospitality in our best cells. Next time, they will be permanently barred. Do I make myself clear?”
Unfortunately, this was as far as she could push it, and the man knew it. He also knew that trying to ask for more now that she had drawn a line in front of so many people would only end in pain, so he swallowed his pride and nodded, “Clear.”
Lia turned to the crowd, her voice carrying authority and reassurance. “This is a free land now. Provocations will not be tolerated, but neither will violence. If you have problems with how someone behaves, you go to the Security Force. That’s what they are there for.”
The captain swept away soon after, taking his remaining crew with him. Lia doubted she’d see him again if he could avoid it.
The soldiers led the offending men away, and Lia was about to call it a day when she felt Margaret’s eyes on her. The girl was evidently dissatisfied with something but at least had the good sense to wait until they had left the port.
Once they were back at the mayoral mansion and the guards had left for their posts, Margaret’s patience finally wore thin. As soon as the doors closed behind them, she exploded with frustration.
“We should have thrown the entire crew into the dungeons!” Her voice was sharp, echoing in the grand hall. “We need to show the Hammerfest Empire that we won’t be bullied anymore. They can’t come here and flaunt our rules without consequences!”
Lia sighed, the weariness of years settling on her shoulders. She gestured for Margaret to follow her to the study. Once inside, she closed the door and turned to her apprentice with a stern expression. “Girl, our job is to steward the growth of the freed lands, not to open an entirely new conflict. We’re already stretched thin as it is.”
“But they were openly mocking us, challenging our authority,” Margaret insisted. “How could you let them get away with it?”
There was something more to the girl’s complaints, and Lia suspected it had to do with having been left behind while Oliver got to follow his mentor, but she wasn’t about to spend her afternoon listening to a teenage girl’s rants.
“I didn’t let them get away with it,” Lia said calmly. “I detained the worst offenders and sent a clear message—both to the foreigners and our people—that only the Revolutionary Government has authority. However, we cannot afford to escalate the situation unnecessarily. Leonard put me in charge because he knew I could navigate these tense moments without creating more trouble. While I’m sure I could have found a good reason to detain the entire crew, it would have cost us more than a moment of satisfaction could give.”
Margaret’s face was flushed with frustration. “But if we don’t stand up to them now, they’ll think we’re weak. They’ll keep pushing and testing our limits until they can go back to plundering and stealing our people.”
The problem with Margaret was that she was an intelligent young woman. Even in the throes of anger, she could articulate herself well enough to make sense. If Lia used her authority to shoot her down, the girl would start plotting something she couldn’t see coming. “And that’s why we need to be strategic. We need supplies from the southern states, whether we like them or not. If we alienate Hammerfest entirely, we risk a reprisal that could cripple us. The Hero can’t be everywhere, and we can’t rely on his presence to solve all our problems.” Then she lifted a hand, stopping the complaint before it could be expressed, “That doesn’t mean I’ll allow those slaving scum to make a mockery of our principles. I told the captain that this would be his only chance, and I meant it. Any further provocation will be punished harshly.”
Margaret clenched her fists, her knuckles white. “I just wish we could do more to help.”
“We are doing more,” Lia said firmly. “By maintaining order and fostering growth, we are showing strength. Not every battle is fought with swords and spells. Sometimes, it’s about diplomacy and patience. We need to build a lasting foundation, not just win quick victories that could lead to long-term instability.”
Margaret took a deep breath, trying to let Lia’s words sink in. “I understand, but watching them disrespect us is hard.”
“It is hard,” Lia agreed, her voice softening, taking the girl’s hands in hers. “But remember, the true strength of the Revolution is not just in our ability to fight—the nobles were plenty good at hitting each other—but in our ability to build a better future. We must choose our battles wisely. The Hero might win any duel, but we are just as important to the stability of our new nation. You took over several classes to teach the ex-slaves alchemy and ingredient cultivation, which will help much more than any single soldier might. It’s less flashy, but it is just as important.”