Ernst narrowed his eyes, pulling the heavy, leather-bound ledger close to his face before shoving it to arm’s length.
He squinted at the ink strokes again, looking exactly like a confused elderly man trying to decipher a glowing screen on a dark train.
After a long, suffocating silence, he finally confirmed that his vision was not playing tricks on him.
His expression twisted into a grimace of sheer disbelief.
He cursed under his breath.
“Damn it, how did Kjerag end up like this…”
His anger was entirely justified.
If the financial reports submitted by the Three Great Families and the statistical records from the Karlan Temple were even remotely accurate, the expenditures of the entire Kjerag government under the temple’s administration were divided into four main categories.
Religious sacrificial expenses devoured roughly sixty percent of the entire national budget.
Building maintenance and temple upkeep accounted for another thirty percent.
Support for scientific research, industrial investment, and general development scraped by at eight percent.
National defense spending sat at a pathetic two percent.
Even a complete novice with absolutely zero background in political economics could look at these figures and sense the sheer absurdity of the situation.
Yet Head Maid Kjera, who claimed she was ordered by the Saintess to assist Ernst in his duties, seemed utterly bewildered.
She tilted her head, her deep blue eyes blinking in genuine surprise.
“Is there something strange about this allocation?”
“Isn’t this strange enough!” Ernst groaned, leaning back against the cold stone corner of the wall and dragging a hand down his face.
He had fully anticipated that Kjerag, as an isolated agricultural pure land completely untouched by modern industry, would have a rather ugly financial ledger.
He had mentally prepared himself for poverty.
What he had not expected was that revenue volume was not the primary issue.
The fatal flaw was the distribution.
“Listen,” Ernst sighed, dropping his hand.
“The Ursus Empire’s national defense spending historically accounted for over fifty percent of their government budget.
Even though it has decreased slightly in recent years, it stabilized around forty percent.
Then look at Columbia.
Every single year, on top of dedicating over thirty percent of their budget to technological development, they approve massive special innovation funds to reward companies and individuals who achieve breakthroughs in scientific research.”
He tapped the ledger against his knee.
“How massive is Columbia?
How vast is Ursus?
Imagine for a second if they decided to compete or clash with Kjerag in terms of military might or scientific advancement.
Could Kjerag possibly survive?”
Kjera nodded slowly, a look of sudden understanding washing over her features.
But a moment later, a hint of stubborn doubt crept into her voice.
“But I think the Paleroche Family’s army and Karlan Trade’s various technological inventions are quite impressive.”
Ernst raised his head and rolled his eyes at the maid.
“You are right.
But putting aside the actual combat strength of a militia lacking modern weaponry, can the Paleroche Family truly represent Kjerag?”
He tossed the ledger onto a nearby desk.
“No matter how strong the Paleroche soldiers are, they are ultimately the private army of the Paleroche Family.
They have never demanded a single penny from the Karlan Temple to fund those troops.
If a real national crisis arises, the Kjerag government has absolutely no legal right to command them.
To put it bluntly, the Paleroche Family is essentially a warlord faction.
They just happen to obey the government’s commands for the time being.”
Kjera frowned, clearly displeased by his harsh assessment.
“How can you speak of the Paleroche Family that way?
For thousands of years, they have faithfully protected the safety of Kjerag!”
Ernst pursed his lips.
He knew her words represented an obvious historical truth, a sentiment deeply rooted in the hearts of almost all Kjeragians.
But the cold reality remained.
If Kjerag was ever going to achieve complete modernization, the Paleroche Family was an entity that would eventually have to be fully incorporated into a state military, or entirely dismantled.
It was a harsh truth everyone would have to face sooner or later.
“Has it always been this way, and therefore it is correct?”
Kjera choked on her next words, falling into a stunned silence.
Ernst did not push her to accept his radical ideas immediately.
The far more pressing matter at hand was the immediate financial crisis.
Solving global financial problems always boiled down to a simple concept: increase revenue and reduce expenditure.
Reducing expenditure was a guaranteed way to make enemies.
This was especially true regarding the religious affairs that currently monopolized the largest share of the government’s financial outlay.
The budget absolutely needed to be slashed, but the method of execution was a political minefield.
Kjeragandr was the absolute faith of all Kjeragians.
Even a ruthless visionary like Enciodes had to respectfully bow and maintain a polite distance in front of the Saintess.
Failing to do so would invite the wrath of the entire nation.
This meant Ernst could not simply use his usual underhanded tactics, like diverting the blame to a specific family, the way he had tricked Karlan Trade.
There was no shortcut here.
Sacrificing to Kjeragandr was an ironclad ancestral rule.
Whoever dared to touch the ancestral rules would quickly lose their head.
After chewing on the problem, Ernst decided to temporarily abandon the idea of cutting expenditures and focus all his energy on increasing revenue.
Compared to cutting budgets, generating wealth offered far more avenues.
Tourism, mining, land leasing.
Ernst mentally crossed them out one by one until he settled on the simplest, most convenient path.
A method that required very little initial capital.
However, he could not pull it off alone.
He needed an accomplice.
“Head Maid, I will take this ledger with me for now.”
Ernst stood up, brushing the dust from his trousers.
He glanced at Kjera, noticing her spirits seemed somewhat dampened by their debate.
After a brief internal struggle, he decided to take responsibility for ruining the mood and offered a few words of comfort.
“Actually, you do not need to pay too much attention to my rambling.
Whether it is building a national army or funding scientific research, these are headaches that I, as the Kjerag Prime Minister, should worry about.
They do not have much to do with you or Enya.
Besides, I am just a lone general right now.
Everything I just said is nothing more than empty talk.”
He offered a self-deprecating smile.
“Perhaps I am talking a big game right now, but when it comes down to actually executing it, it will just be a futile effort, and I will end up making a mess of things.”
Kjera lifted her head.
A strange, searching light flickered in the depths of her blue eyes.
“If that were the case, would you still try?”
Ernst nodded without a second of hesitation.
“I would.”
A stunning, ethereal smile bloomed across Kjera’s face.
She nodded slightly.
“Then Kjeragandr will bless you.”
The sheer beauty and weight of that smile caught Ernst completely off guard.
He was momentarily captivated, his heart skipping a strange beat.
Realizing his own impropriety, he quickly rubbed his eyes, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he tried to cover his embarrassment.
“Thank you for the blessing.
May Kjeragandr bless you too.”
With that, he turned on his heel and walked briskly out of the Hall of Sacred Records, his hurried footsteps resembling a tactical retreat.
…
Karlan Trade Headquarters, nearing the end of the business day.
Due to the sudden reassignment of Gnosis, Enciodes had been exceptionally busy.
The temporary personnel adjustments and shifting of executive duties had consumed hours of his time.
Normally, by this hour, he would already be resting at the SilverAsh estate, savoring a cup of black tea while contemplating his next move on the geopolitical chessboard.
Yet he did not feel tired.
His mood was remarkably better than usual.
The reason was simple.
He had won a long-standing bet with an old friend, and his younger brother had just delivered a highly entertaining surprise.
Enciodes had originally assumed that Ernst, pushed into the heavy roles of Prime Minister and Speaker without a proper power base, would spend his first few weeks flustered and overwhelmed.
‘I just need to remind him that such bad behavior as tricking his elder brother cannot be repeated,’ Enciodes mused, a faint smirk touching his lips.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, the sound of rapid, cheerful footsteps echoed in the corridor outside his office.
Enciodes looked up from his paperwork.
Before he could even open his mouth to permit entry, the heavy oak doors burst open.
A silver blur launched across the room.
If anyone else had witnessed this, the Kjerag morning papers would be reporting the assassination of the Karlan Trade Chairman.
“Brother!”
Encia scrambled off Enciodes’s chest, shouting at the top of her lungs.
“Sorry, sorry!”
Enciodes groaned, rubbing his bruised abdomen as he reluctantly picked himself up from the expensive carpet.
He looked down at his most energetic younger sister.
The SilverAsh family was comprised of four siblings.
Enciodes, the eldest, ruled Karlan Trade.
The second sister, Enya, served as the revered Saintess of Kjerag.
The third brother, Ernst, had just seized the titles of Prime Minister and Speaker.
And then there was the youngest sister, who had perfectly inherited the athletic genetics of her three older siblings and channeled it entirely into becoming an extreme sports fanatic.
“Next time, knock before entering,” Enciodes sighed, reaching out to ruffle Encia’s hair.
It was only in the presence of his youngest sister that the cold, calculating Chairman allowed his gentle side to surface.
“Even if you refuse to knock, at least do not crash into me like a falling boulder.
You could get hurt.”
Encia leaned into his hand, rubbing her head against his palm like an apologetic snow leopard.
“Tell me, what do you need?” Enciodes asked, adjusting his coat.
“Do you want me to import some new climbing equipment from Victoria?”
Encia pouted, crossing her arms.
“Can I not just want to see my big brother?”
“Then you could have waited for me at home.
I am not leaving Kjerag anytime soon.” Enciodes gave her a knowing look.
“If you came all the way to the headquarters to find me, it must be for something specific.”
“You caught me.” Encia dropped her arms, spreading her hands helplessly.
“But you got one thing wrong.
This time, I am not the one who wants to see you.
Someone else sent me.”
“Who?” Enciodes raised an eyebrow.
“Brother Ernst,” Encia replied brightly.
Enciodes let out a short, amused breath, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.
“Then why did he not come here himself?”
“He said he just offended you, so he sent me to test the waters.
He told me that if you were still angry, he would choose another time to visit.” Encia blurted out Ernst’s exact instructions without a shred of hesitation, completely selling out her other brother.
“This fellow…” Enciodes shook his head, walking back to his leather chair and sitting down.
“Did he mention exactly what he wants to see me about?”
Encia nodded eagerly.
“To make money.”
Feeling that her delivery lacked the proper impact, she leaned over the mahogany desk, exaggerating her expression and dragging out the syllables for dramatic effect.
“To make a lot…
of…
money!”
[Rhodes’s Note:
Enjoying the operation so far, Doctor?
(This daily grind literally pays the landship’s rent!
to use the links!)