There were three days left until Luffe Aros.
The king had been extremely busy with work. Every decision he made could mean life or death for the citizens of the Federated Kingdom. Especially now, when they were in the midst of war. Even during this winter lull, he had to do everything he could to restore the nation’s strength and prepare for the spring thaw.
Norgalle Senridge firmly believed that if they couldn’t eradicate the Demon Blight during the upcoming spring offensive, there would be no future for humanity. And he was certain the king’s actions during this temporary time of peace would determine that battle’s outcome.
And so he didn’t have a moment to rest. Each day began early, and after waking up, he would review his schedule with Chancellor Venetim Omawisc over a simple breakfast. His meals were always sparse: rye bread with pickled turnips, a soup made from vegetable scraps, and occasionally a slice of bacon. On a good day, he might even have a fried egg.
“…Um, uh. Once again, there are numerous documents that require your approval and review today, Your Majesty.” Venetim handed him a stack of papers. It was about as thick as Norgalle had expected. If anything, it was a little sparse. “Furthermore, in regard to the royal guards—”
“No need. I already have the schedule memorized,” replied Norgalle, before taking a sip of his soup, a mere whisper of salt dancing on his tongue. “Venetim, you must swiftly secure the cooperation of the western nobles. The spring offensive will be held up without their support. Do not forget to keep the Temple in check. We cannot let any fools take control of their forces.”
“Everything will proceed as planned. You have my word.” Venetim bowed. The king had been giving him quite a lot of tasks lately, and it appeared he was giving them his all. His face was showing signs of fatigue.
Norgalle decided to offer him a word of encouragement: “Keep up the good work.”
After seeing the man off, Norgalle turned his attention to the mountain of paperwork awaiting him. Venetim had already screened the documents compiled by the Allied Administration Division, but there were still an overwhelming number to consider.
He separated anything that required further consultation. While the king didn’t need to know everything in minute detail, a certain level of understanding was essential. At the same time, it was equally important not to dwell on the specifics. A king needed to think both strategically, considering the bigger picture, and tactically, understanding individual perspectives.
But even while Norgalle was poring over this paperwork, he received the occasional visitor. He had no formal appointments scheduled for that day, but he made exceptions for a select few, such as Kafzen Dachrome, the head of the intelligence agency and the captain of the Twelfth Order of the Holy Knights.
This man had a knack for appearing without warning, often slipping into the king’s office as if he’d appeared out of thin air.
“It has been far too long, Your Majesty,” he said with an exaggerated bow. The man always had an air of theatricality about him. “Please forgive me for the tardy greeting. I am very pleased to welcome you back to the First Capital.”
“Enough with these meaningless pleasantries. You and I are busy people.”
“As you wish. Then please allow me to give you our report on the current situa—”
“No need. I have already been briefed by one of your men. It seems you’ve been fulfilling your duties in my absence.”
A towering stack of documents dominated Norgalle’s desk, all of them clandestine reports from Kafzen’s network. While these daily deliveries had become routine since his return to the First Capital, this was the first time Kafzen had come to visit in person.
“I am honored that our efforts have earned your approval, Your Majesty. How were the front lines?”
“The situation is dire,” replied Norgalle gravely. “Very dire. The soldiers are injured, and the people are exhausted. At this rate, we won’t be able to keep up the war even two or three more years. We must strike now, while we still have the energy.”
“Then my men and I must work even harder.”
“I expect you to give your utmost at all times.” Norgalle glared at Kafzen, who was wearing a somewhat sadistic smile. “Stay vigilant. Remember, you and your people are solely responsible for this nation’s covert security. Pay particular attention to the east.”
Norgalle believed that was where they should be focusing their efforts. His daily reviews of tax revenue, migration, and shifts in public order and economic activity painted a clear picture.
“It appears the people of the eastern islands have been duped by a pack of fools into starting a rebellion. Those so-called pirates are highly suspicious.”
“You have a keen eye. We believe those pirates are armed forces from a powerful clan connected to the former Kioh royal family. They call themselves ‘Zehai Dahé’s army,’ and they are leading a force of dryads, making them difficult to suppress.”
Zehai Dahé was the name of a creature worshipped as the guardian deity of the former island kingdom of Kioh. It was said to be an enormous serpent with scales of deep crimson, able to soar through the air, as well as the depths of the ocean. The legends said it could slice through mountains and conjure mighty windstorms. It was clear that the pirates were attempting to legitimize themselves by claiming ties to the Kioh royal family.
“Do everything in your power to ensure that the spring offensive stays on track. The port is especially critical. Defend it at all costs.”
“As you wish.”
“That is all. Get to work.”
“No need to be so cold, Your Majesty.” Kafzen smiled wryly, as if holding back pain. “I was looking forward to conversing with you upon your triumphant return.”
“My return to the royal capital will only be triumphant once we’ve won the war.” Norgalle shifted his gaze back to the documents atop his desk. “First, we must win. Everything else can wait.”
“I dream of that day—the day you return to the royal castle, and the people rejoice and welcome you home. The day our soldiers are allowed to heal, and our land can finally rest. I yearn for it.”
“Never call it a dream again,” Norgalle barked. Peace was by no means a dream, and a king should never allow it to be spoken of that way. “Now go. We both have jobs to do.”
“I shall take your advice to heart.”
Norgalle glanced up, only to find Kafzen already gone. He always moved about like a shadow.
The only other uninvited guest to visit Norgalle that day was a boy.
The small, thin youth approached with timid steps, then executed a perfect bow.
“Sir Norgalle,” he said, “I still haven’t properly thanked you for saving my life back at the Tujin Tuga Hills.”
“Good to see you, Rykwell,” the king replied. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well. You didn’t come crying to me even once. I’m proud of you. A member of the royal family must always be strong.”
The boy was his younger brother and the kingdom’s third prince, Rykwell Zef-Zeal Meht Kioh. He was a candidate for the throne, since Norgalle had no heir, though Rehnavor and Rezufar were both ahead of him in line.
Wait. Rezufar is… A sharp pain lanced through Norgalle’s temples, causing him to shake his head.
“Sir Norgalle?” Rykwell looked up at him anxiously, but Norgalle simply groaned and shook his head, trying to reassure the boy.
“I’m fine, Rykwell. It appears the exhaustion is finally catching up with me. That’s all.”
“Really? …Well, please don’t overwork yourself. Melneatis is worried about you.”
“Understood.” Norgalle drew a deep breath and finished signing the final document before him. “I expect you two to stay in good health as well. It may seem improper for royalty to rest in times like these; the kingdom needs a steady leader, and there are few left who can take that role.”
Otherwise, the nation would always fall under the sway of whomever proved to be the strongest. That would only bring strife, and the people would never know peace.
Or else the nation might adopt a parliamentary system, such as the one formerly practiced in the Western Federation. Though some people advocated for such a change, Norgalle refused to entertain the notion. Having citizens vote to decide their representatives was like determining a nation’s rulers via a popularity contest. Such a system could never ensure that the most capable individuals would lead. Expecting the populace to be wise enough to choose their own leaders seemed almost cruel to Norgalle.
The king is the foundation of the nation.
And he must be assisted by capable individuals. To ensure that, they needed to expand the nation’s educational infrastructure and put in place protections against corruption.
“Listen, Rykwell. You must constantly ask yourself what your duty is. That is what it means to be royalty.”
“Ah! Um… U-understood!” Rykwell replied innocently after a moment’s hesitation. “I will do as you say, Sir Norgalle.”
It was a perfect answer. Though young, the boy clearly had potential.
After a moment, he asked, “So, um… How are the other heroes doing?”
“They’re well. Almost too well. They are my elites, after all. I cannot have them faltering after such a trivial skirmish.”
Though gravely injured in the last battle, Xylo and Jayce were already back in action. The two of them led the nation’s forces on land and in the air, and they would be key in bolstering the military’s forces in the lead-up the spring offensive. There was no time for them to rest.
“Now, then. I apologize, Rykwell, but I have another duty I must attend to.”
“You’re going out?”
“Yes. I have business that must be taken care of, so I’m afraid I can’t play with you today.” Norgalle slowly rose from his chair, his headache already gone. “I must personally recruit soldiers for the royal guard.”