Once more, everyone had gotten nervous. I couldn't blame them, this interview was turning into something else entirely.
Before anyone else could muster the courage to speak, one of the guests cleared her throat softly. It was Margaret Willis, the community volunteer. Her warm yet hesitant tone broke through the silence.
"Your Majesty," she began carefully, her hands clasped in her lap, "I am Margaret Willis, a volunteer who works with struggling families. Forgive me, but I must ask—how will you support those who are already on the edge? Those who, even without evictions, struggle to afford food or heating? People who have fallen through the cracks?"
Her question hung in the air, poignant and sincere.
I shifted my gaze to her and thought for a moment about my answer. "Agravain, decree number seven." I said, and he understood what I wanted.
I had already prepared a number of decrees and changes I would implement today. I had no doubt they would throw the nation into chaos, but such was a sad necessity. Sometimes, to build, one had to tear down the old.
Agravain stepped forward, his polished armor gleaming under the golden light of the throne room. With deliberate precision, he unfurled the scroll he carried, his expression one of resolute duty. His voice, calm yet commanding, rang out across the vast chamber.
"By the will of His Majesty, Arthuria Pendragon, Sovereign Ruler of Camelot, Defender of the Realm, and Keeper of the Sacred Blade, I hereby proclaim." He began, each word weighted with authority and reverence.
"Henceforth, let it be known across the sovereign lands of Camelot—England, Wales, and Scotland—that the burden of income taxation shall be lifted from all subjects for the span of one full year."
He paused, allowing the words to settle over the gathered guests and echo through the chamber. The weight of his announcement was matched only by its significance.
"This decree is issued in recognition of the struggles borne by the people of this land, who have toiled and suffered under the weight of unjust burdens. No longer shall the common folk be forced to surrender their hard-earned coin to systems that do not serve them."
"For twelve months, the fruits of labor shall remain in the hands of those who have labored, unclaimed by treasury or crown." He rolled the scroll back together and stepped back. Letting his words and my decree fill the chamber.
The Prime Minister, visibly tense, leaned forward slightly. "Your Majesty, this decree is generous—perhaps overly so. How will the kingdom sustain itself without its revenues for an entire year? What of public services, infrastructure, and the treasury?"
I met his gaze steadily, unflinching. "Prime Minister, Camelot's coffers are vast, and my treasury shall shoulder the cost. The burden of rebuilding this nation must fall to its leaders, not its people. It is the duty of a King to protect his realm, even if it means sacrifice."
My words hung in the air, firm and unyielding. For a moment, the Prime Minister seemed ready to challenge me further, but something in my tone stilled him.
Likely feeling that things were taking a dark turn, Prince Edward was quick to change the topic. "Your Majesty, do you believe that the ideals of chivalry still hold relevance in this modern world? Or must they be redefined for this age?"
"A fine question. This age is defined by greed and personal desire. I very much believe that the old values hold meaning, and while some still work for a better world, there are few who do so. I wish to bring more of my time's ideals back."
"That's hardly fair," The prime minister began but was quickly silenced by an angry growl from Mordred.
Joanne Hartfield, a hardworking single mother and nurse from Sussex, was next to speak up. "What are your thoughts on globalization? Should Camelot engage with the world or remain focused on its own people?"
I mused over the question only briefly: "In my time, everything outside of my realm was enemies; there was little trust. Today, it is different; the world is connected by common interests."
"Yet," I continued. "Yet, I admit that I feel the need to ensure that Camelot, my own lands, and my own people prosper. There will be a temporary halting of much of the current interaction with the outside world. Most trade will continue, but little beyond that."
It was not an easy decision, but I knew that what I had planned wouldn't align well with the rest of the world. Too many politics, I didn't want to deal with. No, I had to withdraw England from the world stage if I hoped to rebuild it.
Without first doing that, I wouldn't have the freedom to do what I wanted, what I needed to do.
So I told them that, even if the world would no doubt boil over at the news.
It was Robert "Bobby" Harris, the retired coal miner, who broke the silence. "Your Majesty, you say you're pulling back from the world stage to focus on Camelot. But what about the industries we've lost? Coal, steel, textiles. How do you plan to rebuild without help from the outside?"
"Are those industries not suffering precisely because of the outside world? Did mines not close because it was cheaper to buy coal from somewhere else? Did factories not close because opening new ones elsewhere was cheaper?" I pointed out.
"I do not agree with capitalism; it serves the few, whereas it should be the focus of serving the many. So what if it is more expensive? There are ways of mitigating that issue, ways that won't leave people suffering for work."
Robert leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he processed my words. His voice, still rough with skepticism, carried a blunt honesty. "So, Your Majesty, you're saying the old ways of trade and business aren't coming back? That this land will stand on its own, no matter the cost?"
I nodded, my voice steady. "Yes, Robert Harris. This land will stand on its own, not out of arrogance but necessity. For too long, the prosperity of Camelot's people has been tied to the whims of distant markets and faceless corporations. That must end."
He rubbed the back of his neck, his doubt clear. "And what happens when the cost gets too high? When people can't afford what they need?"
I let my gaze meet his, unwavering. "Then we adapt. Industries will be rebuilt with fairness and purpose, not greed. The Crown will ensure that no family goes without the essentials—no matter the cost. The wealth of this realm will be spent on its people, not hoarded by the few."
Margaret Willis, the community volunteer, leaned forward, her expression cautious but curious. "Your Majesty, if I may… you've spoken against capitalism and foreign reliance, but what system do you envision? What will replace it?"
I turned to her, appreciating the sincerity in her question. "Margaret Willis, I envision a system where labor is honored, not exploited. Camelot will not follow the path of unchecked capitalism, Instead, it will forge its own way—a balance between freedom and fairness."
Margaret tilted her head slightly. "That sounds noble, but how do you enforce such a balance? How do you stop those with power or wealth from tipping the scales?"
"Because." My voice filled the chamber. "Because I am the one with power and wealth, and therefore I can ensure that wealth is shared with those who need it the most."
Fatima Rahim raised her hand next, her youthful energy cutting through the tension. "Your Majesty, if Camelot rejects the outside world, doesn't that mean we risk falling behind? The rest of the world is advancing in ways we can't ignore. How do we compete?"
I turned to her, my tone softening but remaining firm. "Fall behind in what? Exploiting our people? Getting them in debt? Innovation is good and all, but only if the people benefit from it. I would rather we fall behind than the people are left behind."
Fatima could help but ask again. "I see your point, Your Majesty," she said carefully, "but isn't there a risk that isolating Camelot too much could create resentment among the people? Especially those who have grown used to the conveniences of the modern world?"
"It isn't like we are going to lose those things. I won't be taking anything away from the people. Instead, I will give them more, things they haven't known, and values that are worth far more than modern conveniences."
Margaret Willis, still pondering, leaned forward again. "Your Majesty, I don't mean to press, but what happens when this balance—this system you envision—inevitably faces opposition? From within or without?"
I met her gaze directly. "Margaret Willis, opposition is inevitable. There will always be those who resist change, who cling to systems that benefit them while others suffer. But know this: Camelot is not built on compromise with greed or corruption. Those who stand against the greater good will find no place in this realm."
The Prime Minister, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke again. "Your Majesty, forgive me for saying so, but your vision is… ambitious. Many would call it idealistic. Do you truly believe it can succeed in a world so driven by self-interest?"
I turned to him, my tone sharpening. "Prime Minister, the world has been driven by self-interest for far too long. And people afraid of change, what you see as idealism is but the truth."
His expression tightened, but he nodded slightly, choosing not to argue further.
I let my gaze sweep across the room, addressing all of them. "This vision will not be easy to achieve. It will require sacrifice, perseverance, and unwavering resolve."
"But I ask you this—what is the alternative? To continue down a path of exploitation and division? To accept a world where the few thrive while the many suffer?" The silence in the room was heavy at my words.
"You speak of the people." Prince Edward began. "But in a democracy, power lies with the people. By declaring absolute rule, are you not denying them their voice?"
I couldn't help but sigh behind my helmet. "Democracy… Let me ask you all." I used my left arm to motion to the people in the room. "Who among you wish to pay taxes? Who would rather keep their money for themselves if given the choice?"
All eight of the common folk representatives slowly and with mixed amounts of hesitation raised their hands.
"If I were to take this room as a representation of the nation at large, it means eight tens of the people wish not to pay taxes, yet pay they do. Why I ask? If the people are given rule, do their voice, their will not matter?"
The room fell silent as my question lingered, the weight of it settling over the guests. The hesitation in their eyes spoke volumes. Prince Edward furrowed his brow, his regal demeanor slipping slightly as he searched for a response.
"They pay taxes because they must," he said finally, his voice measured but uncertain. "Not because they wish to, but because they understand it is necessary for the functioning of the nation."
"Do they truly understand?" I countered, my tone calm but unyielding. "Or have they simply been told it is so, with no say in the matter? Democracy claims to give the people power, but what power is it if the few dictate terms to the many?"
Prime Minister Brown couldn't hold his tongue any longer and spoke up. "Your Majesty, taxes are necessary for public services—for healthcare, education, and infrastructure. Without them, how would we provide for the people?"
I turned my gaze to him. "I do not question the necessity of it all, even in my time the people were taxed. And even in my time, people would rather not be."
"The difference." I continued. "Is that in my time, it wasn't the people themselves who held power, but lords and crown. People do not, and never have wanted to pay taxes, we can agree with the need, but not the want."
"Yet, now the supreme power of law is in the hand of the people. Yet despite this, the people are forced to pay tax, they protest in the streets against bank bailouts while they lose everything, yet banks are bailed out."
As I continued to speak, my voice grew louder as my passion rose. "You claim to have given people the power, but they are powerless, their voice ignored, their will cast aside. If the people truly ruled this nation, then you would obey them, even if their wishes are impossible."
"Gawain!" I call loudly."
"Yes, your Highness?"
"If I were to ask you to bring me the head of a dragon, what would you do?"
"I would likely fail, to fell a dragon is nearly impossible, even finding one might be impossible." He answered honestly.
"But would you try?" I pressed
"Yes, I would try to the best of my abilities!"
"This! I stated," This is how a servant should behave, even when faced with an impossible task, they should at least try. You claim democracy serves the will of the people, but it serves but the will of the few."
"Even I knew to leave important matters to those best suited for them, not those most popular, democracy if a fine dream, yet it should remain as such."
Prince Edward finally broke the silence, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity. "Your Majesty, if democracy is merely a dream, as you say, then what would you call your vision? A kingdom where power rests solely in the hands of one ruler—how does that ensure justice or fairness for all?"
I turned my gaze to him, appreciating the honesty in his question. "Prince Edward, I call it a responsibility, not a privilege. The burden of absolute power is heavy, but it ensures that one person—bound by duty and guided by principles—carries the weight of the realm."
I gestured to the guests. "In democracy, power is scattered, diluted among many who bicker and quarrel, serving themselves or their factions. Under my rule, power will be held by me, wielded by those with ability and heart."
Anne Spencer, the retired schoolteacher, raised her hand hesitantly. "But Your Majesty, what if you're wrong? What if your decisions, even made with the best intentions, lead to suffering? In democracy, at least leaders can be replaced. Who holds you accountable?"
Her question gave me pause, but not for long. "Can you really replace them? and can you pick the replacement? I know little of the politics of this age, but I do know that you often have to trade one bad choice for another."
My words hit true. For they were true, democracy had many flaws, so it honestly was all too easy to point them out and pick apart their arguments.
"What about The United Kingdom's international obligations? The economy? National debt?" The prime minister questioned.
I knew what he was doing, he had likely come with this plan ready if he felt he needed it.
The key part of his question was the matter of debt; the UK had plenty of it, plenty of international obligations. His question was meant to maximize the number of enemies I would be making.
Yet, I feared not the global response. I wasn't a mortal king; I was divine, a goddess. I alone could ensure that my people wouldn't suffer, so while he thought himself clever, I had no problem answering him.
"None of that matters to Camelot, the obligations and debts belong to the government and the United Kingdoms, not my Camelot. However, I believe the current United Kingdom extend beyond my realms. You can continue to rule that, and that what remains can shoulder those burdens."
"That sounds like you are breaking Northern Ireland off from the rest of the United Kingdoms, that… impossible, you can't simply do that!" Prince Edward couldn't help but stand up at my words.
"Sit," I commanded, and after my knights all gripped their weapons, he did.
"I am no conqueror. Camelot is my realm; it is so by divine right." I said, bringing out the Golden Sword of the Victorious Caliburn.
"Whoso pulled out this sword of this stone and anvil is rightwise king born of all England." I spoke aloud the inscription. "I seek not to claim land that isn't mine, only what is. You, Prime Minister, can still have your democratic nation, just smaller."
The sight of the sword caused a series of gasps to come from everyone. I couldn't blame them.
Caliburn was a beautiful sword, not to the same level as Excalibur, but still, something that would draw admiration.
Words like amazing, questions like "How did you do that?" Or "Was that magic" came from my guests, but I ignored them.
"I don't force myself onto the throne, the throne was forced on me the moment I pulled this sword from the stone, it is my duty and burden to be king." I stated with an air of finality on the topic.
The interview or question session continued for hours, lasting a full four hours before I finally called for it to end. Double what was planned, but I didn't mind, neither did anyone else. We got wide around, from the most important and serious questions to some more light-hearted ones.
(End of chapter)
We continue and end the interview, we get around, honestly I could continue for longer, but figured it was better to end it here and bring up things along the way.
So, we are getting close to Arthuria taking over the UK, though I doubt it will be that easy, still... what other decrees are there?