A/N: good new guys from now on i will post a chapter daily and for that I will release two chapters today.
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"This kingdom needs order, purpose, and vision. You've been chosen for your skills and your potential. I expect nothing but your best. Let's begin rebuilding Solara."
They bowed in unison, and with that, the first council of Solara was officially formed.
I smiled and informed.
"Now, just to be safe... I would like all of you to form a contract with Karlos — or should I say Mephistopheles."
A few gasps echoed. Karlos gave a smug, daemonic grin, his eyes glowing faintly for dramatic effect.
"Swearing to not betray Solara. Now, don't get me wrong — it's not that I don't trust you all…" My eyes flicked to Belmor. "...excluding Belmor. It's just a formality, you can say. A little magical insurance policy."
Belmor looked like he was about to faint. "Wait! My lord, I—I'm loyal! I didn't even do anything yet—I mean—!"
"Relax," I cut in. "It's just a little demonic pact. Nothing extreme. No soul-eating clauses. Probably."
Karlos stepped forward, lifting one clawed hand. A faint black mist began to swirl in a circle at the center of the room, forming a glowing red seal. "All you have to do is place your hand in the circle and speak your name. The contract only activates if you intend to betray Solara or me, so unless you're planning a backstab in your free time… you'll be perfectly fine."
One by one, they approached — hesitantly at first. Sister Arlen went without hesitation, placing her hand in the seal and speaking her name with a calm smile. "I serve truth — this changes nothing."
Thalor muttered something about "fascinating ancient contracts" as he did his part.
Belmor shook like a leaf as he stepped up. "Please don't eat my soul."
Karlos just smiled ominously and said, "Just don't make me eat it."
Eventually, all the council members bound themselves to the contract.
Once it was done, the seal glowed brightly for a moment before fading into the floor.
"Well," I said, dusting off my hands. "That's that. Now we can rule with peace of mind — or at least, with one less knife aimed at our backs."
Zalario raised an eyebrow. "Efficient. Paranoid, but efficient."
"Thank you, I try."
Then we headed to the meeting room — the one I had Darius prepare specifically for our internal meetings. It had that overly formal atmosphere, with a big polished table, uncomfortable chairs, and a suspiciously expensive-looking rug that I'm sure none of us paid for.
Also, since the role of diplomacy was still unassigned — yeah, classic gap in my genius planning — I handed that temporary responsibility to Darius. The man had enough experience and political sense not to cause an international disaster, hopefully.
We all took our seats — me at the head, naturally. Zalario to my right, calm and composed like always. Reinhart looked like he was already mentally making ten strategic plans. Darius sat across, papers already in hand, because of course he was that prepared. The ministers followed — each one settling in, some curious, some anxious, and Belmor already sweating.
Karlos, for some reason, didn't sit. Despite the chair literally reserved for him right next to me, he chose to stand silently behind me like some kind of loyal butler-daemon hybrid. Not that I complained — it gave me extra intimidation points.
I leaned forward slightly, resting my arms on the table, and looked around the room.
"Alright, everyone. I want each of you to speak up. Tell me the problems your department is facing, big or small. This is the time to get everything on the table."
Then Garren, the newly appointed head of the agriculture department — and very much the image of a grumpy, sun-baked farmer in fancy council robes — raised his hand.
"Lord Velsun," he began, his tone respectful but carrying that earthy honesty you only get from someone who's spent more time talking to soil than people, "agriculture's in a bad way. The land is barren — completely worn out thanks to the constant war between Glora and Bermud. Both kingdoms kept sabotaging each other's food supplies, burning fields and salting crops. The worst part? It's not just temporary damage — the fertility of the land itself has taken a massive hit."
I sighed, leaning back in my chair, already feeling the weight of what this meant. Food shortage, economic instability, possible unrest. Fantastic. Just what I needed.
I scribbled it down quickly on the page I'd brought—yes, I actually remembered to carry one this time. Small victories.
"Garren," I said, glancing up from my notes, "after this meeting's over, stay behind for a bit, alright?"
He gave a quick nod, understanding the seriousness.
"Also," I leaned forward, fingers steepled, "how much longer can Solara hold on with the current food stock?"
Garren scratched the back of his head, clearly not thrilled about the answer. "If we stretch it… maybe two months at best, my lord. But if the integration of Glora continues and their population gets added to our burden? Even less."
Perfect. Starvation in hard mode. Just what every newly crowned king needs in his welcome package.
I turned towards Belmor with the kind of smile that says, "I'm about to give you a massive headache, but I'm pretending it's a gift."
"Well, Minister of Trade," I said with a casual tone and a raised brow, "looks like you've got something in your hands now, right?"
Belmor blinked, then smirked, already calculating profits and supply routes in that greedy little brain of his. "Of course, my lord. A challenge, but nothing trade can't solve… with the right incentives."
Karlos let out a faint, almost unnoticeable chuckle beside me.
"And by 'incentives,' you mean draining my treasury like a thirsty leech," I muttered under my breath, then waved for Belmor to continue. "Alright, genius, let's hear what you've got."
Belmor adjusted his fancy little merchant robe like he was about to give the speech of a lifetime and stepped forward with a gleam in his eyes—probably imagining gold bars instead of crops.
"My lord," he began, voice smooth like butter on a hot pan, "first, we need to import food immediately from neutral or unaffected regions. I already have contacts in the eastern valleys and the southern trade cities. It won't be cheap—nothing worth doing ever is—but it'll keep the people fed while we work on recovery."
He paused dramatically, clearly enjoying the spotlight. "Second, we offer temporary trade tax exemptions to merchants bringing in agricultural supplies—tools, seeds, fertilizers. That will bring in the necessary goods quickly and in bulk."
"And third," he added with a proud smirk, "we establish a grain reserve fund—run by yours truly, of course—to ensure we never reach starvation again. With some clever trading and market manipulation—er, I mean stabilization—we'll be self-sufficient within a year."
I nodded slowly, scribbling it all down. "Hmm... Not bad, Belmor. Greedy and slightly suspicious, but not bad."
Zalario muttered, "He's dangerously competent."
Karlos just gave Belmor a look that said, You better behave… or else.
I leaned back and said, "Alright, Belmor. Make a detailed proposal and present it to Darius and me by tomorrow. Also… congratulations—you've officially made yourself useful."
Belmor grinned like he just won a gold mine.
Thalor, the ancient-looking historian who probably remembered the birth of ink, raised his hand slowly—like his bones might argue about it.
"Ahem, my lord," he began, adjusting his monocle. "Our archives, both in Bermud and Glora, have suffered during the war. Many documents were destroyed or lost, and the scribes scattered. Without proper restoration, we risk losing centuries of knowledge—some of which might include ancient agricultural techniques, political treaties, and even… forbidden alchemical recipes."
Zalario raised an eyebrow. "Forbidden, you say?"
Thalor gave a dry chuckle. "Yes, but don't worry, Lord Velsun. I'm far too old to try blowing up a city again."
I coughed. "Again?"
Thalor just smiled and sipped from a mug that suspiciously looked like it had something stronger than tea.
"Alright, restoration of archives and a new recruitment drive for scribes," I said, scribbling on the paper again. "We'll discuss a budget later. Darius, keep this on the agenda."
Karlos whispered, "Maybe give Thalor a few assistants so he doesn't wander off mid-scroll again."
I nodded. "Yeah… good idea. Anyone else?"
Halden raised her hand, her gauntlet clinking lightly as she did. "Lord Velsun," she said, her voice calm but sharp—like someone who's used to yelling over a battlefield but is politely holding back for court decorum.
"Our borders are a mess," she began bluntly. "The outposts are understaffed, the watchtowers are half-burnt, and we have reports of bandits taking advantage of the power shift. Not to mention, refugees from Glora are pouring in faster than we can process them."
She paused, giving me a pointed look. "I need more men, proper supplies, and a temporary decree to enforce martial law in unstable border regions until order is restored."
I nodded slowly, scribbling all that down while glancing at Reinhart.
"You heard that, General?" I said.
Reinhart gave a curt nod. "I'll coordinate with her. I'll send some trusted officers. Glora's remaining soldiers, once screened, could be used for border control. That should ease the pressure."
"Good," I replied. "Halden, work with Reinhart to draft a short-term plan. Prioritize the most vulnerable regions first. And…" I glanced at Darius, "we'll need a funding plan. Add that to your growing list, Prime Minister."
Darius gave me a dry look. "Of course, my lord. Who needs sleep anyway?"
I grinned. "That's the spirit. Anyone else before I find out something's secretly on fire somewhere?"
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