Rain pounded on the Council Chamber windows. It was a veritable downpour, enough that work on the highway had needed to be halted for the day. I sighed. Cannara and Shia had returned, but I wasn’t sure what to do with them yet.

Inciting a revolution sort of required people to be outside.

Of course, maybe it was sunny in Ribera, but there was no need for them to brave this. I’d had Shia check if it was magical, obviously, but apparently not. Just good, old-fashioned shit weather.

It made me feel like I was back in England.

Everyone was gloomy, and I could only imagine how Duke Kalvin felt, out in the field. I almost used [Command Centre] to ask him, but he’d probably scoff and call me a fool for worrying about something as paltry as a little rain.

Still, we could get something done. Shia and Cannara were playing some kind of game with hexagonal cards—Bardra, I think it was called—and Hana stood beside me, as expressionless as ever. Now, though, I knew a tumult of emotions hid behind that mask. Somehow, that deeper understanding made her seem beautiful.

Unfortunately, she wouldn’t look at me. When our eyes would accidentally meet, she’d quickly turn away in shame. She remembered everything, then. Honestly, I wanted to tease her about it, but I felt like that was a rabbit hole I wasn’t ready to go down.

Casting aside thoughts of one-on-one bonding, I eyed the other two sitting on the floor. I really needed to get that table. It wasn’t fair that I sat while everyone else had to stand.

On the topic of tables, my Ruler View exploits had actually granted me an achievement, which—unlike the last one—had given me XP. It wasn’t much, but it had levelled me up.

[Master of the Map]

Use all the functions of [Command Centre] in Ruler View.

Honestly, a little pride swelled in me at seeing that. Without any tips or tutorials, I’d managed to master my newest Skill through sheer curiosity. What’s more, my stats were slowly looking less depressing.

Larheim/Oliver Marsden (Lv. 6)

Experience Points (XP): 110/150

Approval Points (AP): 50/100

Sovereign Points (SP): 20

Yields

Economy (ECN): -68

Resources (RSC): 7

Military Strength (MST): 25

Crime (CRM): 53

Education (EDU): 2

Culture (CLT): 3

Religion (RGN): 45

Morale (MRL): 19

Skills (4)

Specialists (7)

Quests (2)

Diplomacy

Ruler View

Those with eagle eyes may notice a few changes. First, my Economy was creeping upward. As people earned and spent more, the recovery marched on, but it was nowhere near enough. I was spending a lot, and the deficit showed it—we needed more income.

Fiscal multiplication would help, but realistically, we were stuck in the mire without Ribera’s wealth. Food prices were climbing down, in part thanks to Konstantin’s Merchant Guild, but that didn’t mean much if people were still too poor to afford them. Hopefully, the amphitheatre would help.

Crime had increased, despite Morale doing the same. A quick glance at Ruler View told me most of the Morale gains were in the capital, where I’d inspired the population, whereas Crime was concentrated in more rural areas.

Each town or village had a Magistrate, who answered to the Duke, and their judgments were rarely overturned. In Kalvin, Relas’ wife had kept a tight grip on things, but I realised I’d been too naive, hoping the rising Economy would be enough to mitigate it. In the areas being developed, sure, but elsewhere, people grew more desperate.

Project Highway would expand though, especially once we brought Ribera back into the fold. I’d have the road stretch outward to each duchy. To paraphrase a wise folk singer, I’d have those rivers of concrete become the bloodstream of the country.

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But to do that, we needed to reclaim Ribera. The food and raw materials would lubricate trade, and help to drive down prices. I had a plan, of course, but it required access to Aleister’s soldiers, which meant sitting and waiting.

It was stressful, but necessary. I’d considered being more proactive, but to march on Ribera would invite the ire of its citizens, and they’d resist my rule.

Fucking propaganda.

Cannara’s improved spy network constantly fed us information, and I was confident I’d know exactly where to lay my trap when the time came. For now, though, all I could do was focus on my projects.

At least I’d gained a new Skill from my achievement.

[Ruler’s Command] - Using Ruler View, you can send specific commands to any citizen who directly serves you or your nation. They feel a compulsion to do as you ask, and instinctively know that the order comes from you.

I jumped for joy when first reading it. Rather than being limited to Specialists, I could now give orders to any of my units, allowing me much greater range of control over any battles.

But it didn’t help with the amphitheatre. For that, I could only wait for Arter to finish his designs, and Konstantin to find the funds.

It seemed I was doing a lot of waiting, these days.

I wasn’t waiting much longer, though, as Captain Tomas marched into the Council Chamber.

“Arter Rinstone, sire,” he said, gesturing to the young Beastman who entered.

Arter’s eyes drooped, his fur matted and lacklustre. He carried a large wooden board with a sheaf of paper on top, and his expression lit up when he saw me.

I smiled. “Arter! How’s it going?”

“Sire,” he said, breathless. Had he run here? “It’s complete.”

Springing from my throne, I jogged over, eyeing up the designs as he held up the board. Honestly, I didn’t really understand it, but it was impressive nonetheless.

His papers were covered in sketches and scribbles, some kind of shorthand labelling different elements. It showed the building’s concept from every angle, including massive pillars, a sloping roof, and inner areas full of space for stalls and other recreation.

Rather than a single-use structure, he’d designed me a concert hall crossed with a shopping centre. Hell, I wasn’t complaining.

The others crowded around us, their faces dangerously close to mine. Hana’s breath tickled my cheek as she stared in wonder.

“Guys,” I said, “personal space.”

They shared a guilty look before backing off, Hana coughing awkwardly and averting her gaze. Should I pull her aside?

Eh, she’d get over it.

As I flipped through Arter’s designs, I noticed a map with a huge ‘x’ drawn in the area I’d put aside for my bathhouse.

“You even considered the location?” I asked.

“Of course,” said Arter, puffing his chest. “With the sheer number of abandoned buildings in this city, it was easy enough, and I believe that with the correct urban planning, we can make this project even greater than you intended.”

I went slack, the shock showing in my features. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Of course, I’d considered district zoning, but they’d only been vague ideas I’d formed before being waylaid by other priorities.

Thank the System for Architects.

I traced a circle around the area with my fingernail. “So, what, an entertainment district here, maybe?”

“That’s what I was thinking, sire.”

Excitement welled in my belly. Already, my capital city was beginning to take shape in my mind. I pointed at an area next to it, stretching toward the wall and the Larm Bridge, which was less abandoned but still struggling.

“How about a commercial district here?” I said, excited.

“Isn’t that too close to the slums?” said Arter. “Surely the location would put people off.

Shaking my head, I grinned. “Nah, it’ll be fine. If we improve the slums, won’t that make businesses more likely to wanna set up shop there?”

We shared a conspiratorial glance, but it was broken by Tomas clearing his throat. I turned to face him.

“Lord Konstantin Verard, sire,” he said, and the haggard Treasurer trudged into the room.

Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his arms hung loose and limp, like something out of a Romero film. Water dripped from his hair—matted to his head—onto my stone floors.

“Rough day?” I asked, grimacing. “Don’t you have an umbrella?”

“I couldn’t find it,” he said, miserable. “And yes, it has been a rough day, week, month, everything is rough recently.”

“Oh.” Guilt stabbed my stomach. The only reason he was working so hard was because I was driving him like a slave. Slavery was mostly a punishment for heinous crimes, but here was Konstantin, guilty of nothing but still going.

“You all right?” I said.

“Quite,” he replied, sighing. “Unfortunately, our finances are not. As I thought, until we are able to secure more funding, your amphitheatre is impossible.”

I shit you not, Arter whined. Like an actual dog. His ears flattened against his head, and my heart fell out of my ribcage.

More funding? In that case, we needed Ribera, but my plan was reactive.

Maybe it didn’t have to be.

If I could provoke him, force him to fall for my plan…

I didn’t get to dwell any further, however, as Captain Tomas led yet another person into my Council Chamber. This one was a tall, skinny man in a turquoise cloak bearing the Ribera family crest, drenched to the bone.

“A messenger, sire,” said Tomas.

I narrowed my eyes. The messenger carried a large object covered with a cloth, which he withdrew to reveal an ornate, body-length mirror.

Wordlessly, he handed it off to my Guard Captain before leaving. Shia immediately rushed over, running a hand over the object.

“Well?” I asked, my innards clenching.

She nodded.

“All right, then,” I said, sighing as I returned to my throne. “Let’s do it.”

Shia and Tomas carried the mirror over, standing it 10 feet from me. Konstantin and Arter gaped, still uncertain of how they should react. Hana laid a hand on my shoulder, and Cannara’s nose twitched.

Activating the device, Shia let Tomas strain under the weight as she left only enough contact to channel the mana into it.

Before long, I find myself staring at the oily visage of Aleister Ribera.