The continent of Varno was split right down the middle by a mountain range called the Giant’s Backbone. The lands to its East and West were home to a crowded mess of countries big and small. Among them was a tiny nation that carved out a place for itself in a valley near the northernmost tip of the mountains.

It was known as the Kingdom of Natra.

The citizens of Natra became dispirited when the first signs of autumn began to creep up on their kingdom.

The wind gave them a gentle warning that the brief summer was over and that a long winter season was about to take its place. When the chilly breeze passed by them, it was customary for the townspeople to shiver and click their tongues in annoyance as they started preparing for the cold days ahead.

But this year was different.

The rays of the summer sun were waning. Autumn was just around the corner. And despite that, the people were filled with a cheerful vitality. In fact, the nation thrummed with heated enthusiasm.

The reason for their jubilation was the invasion by the neighboring nation of Marden and the subsequent war that had erupted right before the summer.

With the current king bedridden, command had fallen to Crown Prince Wein Salema Arbalest, who led the troops into battle, pushing back their enemy. But he didn’t stop there. He went on to invade Marden in turn and even captured their precious gold mine.

And when Marden raised an army of thirty thousand to retake it, Wein had managed to stand his ground with only a few thousand men of his own. This historic achievement was more than enough fuel for the people to heap praise on their crown prince. As the military fervor refused to die down in the Kingdom of Natra, the townspeople forgot all about the oncoming chill.

The same could be said about the royal capital of Codebell.

“Just as you’d expect from His Highness.”

“When I heard the king had fallen ill, I wondered what was going to happen to us for a while, but…”

“The prince is merciful and mighty. Our nation is safe as long as he’s here.”

This kind of discussion could be heard all over. There was no need to strain to pick it out from the crowd. The recent war had left a strong impression on the people.

I imagine they’ll continue to be on cloud nine for a while… thought a young girl, as she slipped through the main street with a burlap sack.

With her near-translucent white hair and flaming red eyes, she had the appearance of a doll. But she was a flesh-and-blood human, Ninym Ralei, the one who served as aide to the subject of many a rumor—Prince Wein.

And so what if we won against a neighboring nation? It was just this once. It doesn’t mean that we’re suddenly stronger as a nation or that other countries don’t pose a threat to us anymore.

It’d be inaccurate to call her pessimistic. After all, she found the victory favorable, and she was pleased that her master had earned the respect of his subjects as a result. But as someone engaged in national politics, Ninym concerned herself more with future danger than past accomplishments.

It worries me that Wein’s reputation is skewed to one side.

Through the grapevine, the general populace knew many sides of Wein, but all agreed that he was a benevolent ruler. Everyone had heard about how he remembered every last one of his soldiers’ names and rooted for them as individuals. Or how he personally liberated the residents of the captured mine from oppressive rule. There were truths and lies, but overall, Wein was seen as kind and compassionate in the eyes of the public.

This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Certainly not, but Ninym was well aware that a skewed reputation could cause issues down the line.

I wonder how Wein feels about that. She decided to ask him about it later.

With her mind made up, Ninym hastened toward the palace, where she imagined the crown prince would be waiting for her arrival.

Constructed by King Salema, the very first ruler of the Kingdom of Natra, Willeron Palace was a structure with a long, rich history.

That said, it was just shy of two hundred years old. With repeated repairs, the kingdom had managed to keep it in a functional state and restore its exterior, but the palace was overdue to be demolished and rebuilt… At least, the idea had been brought up in meetings for a few dozen years running.

But there were no signs it would be happening anytime soon. It wasn’t out of respect for the palace’s history or the sentimental attachment of its occupants. It came down to the cold hard math: There was no wiggle room in the budget to accommodate this project.

Down that dilapidated, “historic” hallway, a young boy sauntered forward, trailed by a gaggle of government officials. His name was Wein Salema Arbalest. Carrying the legacy of the kingdom’s birth in his middle name, he was rumored to be the founding king reborn.

“Your Highness, the channel along the Torito River has been completed without incident.”

“How are the water levels of the main river and its tributaries?”

“It’s estimated that both fit in the range of our expectations. We’ve calculated that the possibility of a flood has dropped significantly. All according to plan.”

“Don’t get too optimistic. Start to believe you control creation, and it’ll come back to bite you. Keep a close eye on it.”

“Yes, of course.”

When one official bowed his head and took a step back, another filled his place.

“About the Torito River. We’ve had reports of disputes with local tribes as our people travel down the tributaries.”

“That should have been left to the dispatched magistrates. Are you telling me they couldn’t strike a deal with the local communities?”

“I regret to inform you that words and appeals to authority have failed to sway them.”

“I guess there’s no helping it. Tell Raklum to head down there with his troops and shush them. Do whatever it takes to avoid bloodshed. Gather as much information on the area as you can, and submit a detailed report.”

“Understood!”

Wein’s orders were swift and precise, exacting political measures with elegance and magnanimity. The officials with tender hearts considered him an ideal prince and one worth serving.

“Your Highness, we have a report from General Hagal, who is defending our borders from the Kingdom of Cavarin. He wishes to receive your approval on a few things.”

“I’ll take a look before I send a reply. Are Cavarin and the remnants of the Marden army still engaged in a skirmish?”

“Yes. The remaining soldiers are united under the banner of the surviving members of the royal family.”

“We don’t know how the situation’s going to play out. Form diplomatic relations with both camps. Don’t forget to tighten surveillance and send more spies.”

“Understood. We’ll take care of it immediately.”

Wein continued with his vassals until his office door came into view and he’d reached his destination.

“Your Highness, I apologize for the delay. I have the financial report for the war and the budget for each of the restructured departments. Here.”

Wein took the report and stared at it for a beat. “You’re sure this is correct?”

“Absolutely.”

“…I see. I’ll be looking over it in my office. Come in if you need anything,” he announced.

The officials halted in place and bowed once as Wein entered the office.

“…Phew.”

When he was finally alone, he placed the report on his desk, stretched out his limbs, and drew in a long breath.

“I JUST WANNA SELL THIS COUNTRY OFF AND GET THE HELL OUTTA HEEEEEERE!” Wein wailed. “Oh boy. The treasury is running on empty… What in the world? …Like, yeah, so maybe we went overboard with the war against Marden, but I didn’t think it’d be this bad…”

He stared at the report on the desk with trepidation. The merciless figures written there would make any politician shudder.

Wein had a new idea. “…Hold on. Calm down. I could have misread the whole thing. Yeah, that’s gotta be it. If I check the report again, I bet the coffers will turn out to be bigger by at least two or three figures…!”

Wein gingerly placed his hands on the documents that he’d dropped, keeping them as far away from him as his outstretched arms would allow. He peeled up a corner and snuck a quick peek.

There was no mistaking it this time.

Wein face-planted onto the desk as Ninym slipped in through the doors with her burlap sack.

“…Don’t tell me you’re just fooling around, Wein,” she lamented in a voice coated in exasperation when she spotted him.

What she didn’t expect was for him to reply with a bold laugh. “Heh-heh-heh, I wonder if you can keep your cool after seeing this…!”

“This is… Oh, it’s the cost of our war.” Ninym thumbed through the pages. “…Seems about right. Just as we’d estimated. It’s as awful to see the first time as the last.”

They hadn’t gone into the war lightly, but war is an expensive endeavor. And since Natra wasn’t wealthy to begin with, it took a huge bite of their budget. They may have annexed a sliver of Marden territory and seized their mine, but it’d take years before they got their money’s worth.

“Well then, I’m guessing these new departmental budgets are based on this report… Hey, Ninym, so you know about the money we have to cover expenses of the royal family?”

“Yes, the budget for private use.”

In other words, an allowance for royalty that far surpassed what an average commoner could hope to ever see. They were the representatives of the entire nation, after all.

Well, in theory.

“This is my current allowance.”

Wein fished out a small cloth sack from his breast pocket and flipped it inside out. A single gold coin bounced off the table.

“…That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Wein moaned. “Argh! To think I protected us against Marden, swiped their mine, all while keeping the war budget at a minimum! And my reward? One measly gold coin? What a serious downer…” He deflated, slumping against the desk.

Ninym checked the reports as she kept him in her periphery. “Couldn’t you have cut some other spending? Like, the military.”

“They already can’t make ends meet. We gotta compensate for lost manpower and equipment, and if I cut it down any more, the troops will plan a coup and kill me.”

“Then raise taxes. Simple.”

“The people will revolt and kill me.”

Ninym gave him a spirited nod. “Then let’s give up.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Wein writhed around in agony—the sight of which pulled on her heart strings.

She suddenly had an idea appear in the back of her mind. “…I know! Wein, why don’t you think of it from another perspective?”

“Like what?”

“Think of it this way: You went to war at the head of a destitute country and came back with enough to afford yourself one gold coin.”

“……” Wein folded his arms. “You’ve got a point.”

“Right? If it were anyone else, we would have been in the red, for sure,” Ninym sincerely assured him.

No one else could have led them into battle and pulled off the same feat.

As if in higher spirits, Wein started to slowly puff out his chest and heaved an exaggerated sigh. Ninym could feel his ego inflating, just a little bit.

“Well, you’re right. Like, there’s no one in this country with more power, popularity, and wisdom than me. This is the only logical outcome when I show even a fraction of my potential. Now, isn’t that right?”

With an overconfident swagger, Wein started to toy with the coin. He was being a bit of an ass, but it was more annoying to deal with him when he was morose.

Ninym pressed on. “Exactly, Wein. You could say that coin is proof of your skills.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It carries the weight of a nation that no one else can hold!”

“You’re right!”

“It may be a single coin to others, but it’s priceless!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Miss Ninym. You’re giving me too much credit! I may get overly confident, you know?!”

“But I’m just telling the truth.”

“And who am I to stop you? Man, it’s so hard being right all the time! It’s so freakin’ hard being a genius!”

Ninym smiled. “That aside, now you can pay me back the money I lent you when you were an exchange student.”

“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA?!” Wein yowled as the coin was snatched from his fingers. “Are you a demon?!”

“I have every right to it.”

“Hello? There’s a little thing called ‘timing’!”

“You want me to add interest?”

“It’s all yours, Lady Ninym…! Oh, please let me massage your shoulders…!”

Wein bid a heartbroken farewell to his gold coin, but mitigating accrued interest came before his pride.

“I’ll give you this in exchange. Enjoy.” She opened the bag and took out some food wrapped in paper. “It’s rabbit pie from The Polar Bear.”

“Woah, this takes me way back. I had no idea they were still open.”

The Polar Bear was a restaurant tucked away in a corner of the city surrounding the castle. Wein and Ninym used to sneak off into town as kids.

“Aw yeah! This thick slab of pie crust, the overpowering taste of herbs, the dryness of the rabbit meat… Mmm, just like the old days.”

“You can be honest and say it tastes bad.”

“We all become poets when we reminisce.” Wein slowly turned to gaze out the window as he chewed on it. “You know, I haven’t been able to survey the town lately.”

“Which makes sense. Time is of the essence when you’re acting on behalf of the king, and for your safety you have to behave in accordance with your new position.”

“Meaning there’s no way you and I could run off on our own like old times.”

“I suppose we could. If you feel like getting assassinated.”

“Never mind, I’m good.”

The Kingdom of Natra considered Wein the man of the hour, but there were more than a few who considered this development a nuisance. That included vassals who were giving Wein the cold shoulder, aristocrats who’d been hoping for a gullible and foolish king rather than a sagacious one, and a number of nations begrudging Natra’s rapid development.

Of course, there were more people grateful for Wein’s existence, but some lurked in the shadows for a chance to wring his neck.

“How were things in town?”

“I’m guessing this celebratory mood is going to continue. We don’t get good news often. I can’t say I blame the people, but I’m concerned that your name is becoming synonymous with compassion and benevolence.”

Wein’s expression turned grim as if to say, Ah, right.

“It’s fine to be popular with the masses, but it’ll be a problem if they don’t take me seriously.”

That was exactly what worried Ninym. No politician is ever displeased by the people’s favor. Popularity means support. A higher rate of approval means it’s easier to move a nation to meet proposed goals.

But even if a ruler is loved by the people, that isn’t the same as immunity from being looked down upon. Earning the disrespect of the masses even once could lead the populace to start flouting laws and political authority, indulging in crime as the country falls to pieces.

To prevent that, politicians have to strike a delicate balance: to be loved and feared by the people.

Well, easier said than done. Too many nations had fallen for failing to maintain this equilibrium.

“It’ll be fine if I can rule without earning their disdain. But if they get full of themselves…”

“You’ll do what?”

“…I’ll become a dictator!”

“Um, hold on.”

“Dictatorship! Tyranny! Despotism! Totalitarianism… Oh, how the corpses will pile up! We can achieve peace by sending the masses into a perpetual state of grief and resentment!”

“If that happened, they’ll squash you—literally. That’s not the sort of joke someone in politics should make, Wein.”

“Yesh, ma’am.”

Just because Wein had one accomplishment under his belt, it didn’t mean his position was secure. They needed to avoid anything that would throw cold water on his hard-won favor.

“Well, let’s wait and see how things go. Keep an eye out and ears open for the word on the street.”

“I’ll see to it.”

“Great. With that settled, I’m off to have some fun!”

“Wait.”

Ninym yanked the collar of Wein’s shirt as he attempted to clamber out of his chair.

“Are you dreaming? There’s still work to be done.”

“…Heh, I thought you’d say that. But think about it for a second, Ninym. It’s weird for me to be this busy.”

She flashed him a look. What the hell are you on?

He continued. “First of all, in my opinion, a nation is made up of a hundred vassal specialists and one monarch generalist.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Within the nation are a variety of industries, like farming, animal husbandry, construction, transportation, and the military. But none require the leadership or input of the monarch to function. It’s enough to have vassals specializing in those fields.”

“I see. Go on.”

“It’s the job of a monarch to decide on industry policies and oversee them. We determine what to research, allocate necessary funds according to set budgets, keep a lookout for corruption, and check if industries are progressing according to plan. To do that, we need to know our countries inside and out. But the ultimate goal is to be vigilant for corruption and errors, not meddle with the industries themselves.”

“There’s some truth to that.”

“Right? It’d be weird for me to bother with progress and research! My only job should be to check the reports from each department and dole out the cash money! And I already did that today! In other words, I’m free! How’s that for a flawless argument?!”

“Are you done dreaming?”

“NIIIIIIIIIIIIINYM!” Wein cried. “What the hell? How could you possibly take issue with my reasoning?!”

“First, a question: How many of those ‘specialists’ are in Natra?”

“………” He slyly averted her gaze.

Ninym sandwiched that face between her hands and forced him to look at her head-on.

“There’s, uh…enough to count on one hand… At least, I hope…”

“In that case, you’ll have to find others to fill in the gaps, Mr. Generalist.”

“Yeah…but—”

“And you intentionally failed to mention diplomatic relations. That’s a part of your princely duties. It isn’t uncommon to lose a seat at the negotiating table if you can’t stand shoulder to shoulder with the bigwigs.”

“Yeah… There’s that, too.”

“Plus, you’re scheduled to talk with the newly appointed Imperial ambassador of Earthworld after this. And I think you know who’s the only person who can claim to be on equal footing.”

“Fine, I get it! Message received! I’ll do it. Are you happy now?!” Wein ranted despairingly. “Agh, why’d the big-booby lady have to go home, anyway?!”

“Because you beat her down.”

“Damn it, that’s right!”

The Earthworld Empire was positioned in the eastern half of the divided continent of Varno and was a major power that had been aggressively expanding its territory in recent years. That was until its figurehead—the Emperor—fell ill some months prior, and now the nation was experiencing a major upheaval.