In Kjerag, there is only one absolute taboo—betraying Kjeragandr.
The great Kjeragandr carved out this nation amidst the wind and snow, guided the ancestors in their expansion, survival, and prosperity, and lit this small flame of civilization among the mountains.
Thus, He is Kjerag’s one and only king, and the eternal god its people revere.
Anyone who denies this, no matter their status or position, becomes an enemy of all Kjerag.
But a bottom line is still just a bottom line.
Much like the Cross faith, whose doctrine proclaims belief in the one true God, yet whose church, in order to sustain itself, built layer upon layer upon that foundation, gradually forming a systematic and rigid structure of belief.
If you do not believe in God, then you are a heathen—there is nothing to discuss.
But if you believe, yet refuse to follow the prescribed system, then you are a heretic.
You directly threaten the interests of those who claim to be God’s sole representatives, and for that, you must be dealt with harshly.
That is why heresy is considered worse than unbelief.
What the Monastery has done is no different.
Kjeragandr created Kjerag, shielded it from calamities, and established the Monastery to grant terranity the freedom to choose its own path.
Was that meant to preserve everything in rigid stagnation?
Ernest did not know the will of a god.
But he believed that if Kjeragandr truly was as described in the Epic of Kjeragandr, then He must be a god who wished for His people to live well.
And such a god would never deny the direction of the times, nor the necessity of reform.
But in the end, these were only assumptions.
Ernest could not know the will of a god.
As a pragmatist, he was hardly a devout believer.
And the moment he attempted to interpret divine will through his own reasoning, the charge of heresy was inevitable.
“Do not sell the land!”
“Kjerag belongs to Kjeragandr, not to you!”
“No Tri-Clan Council, no report to the Monastery—you kept all of Kjerag in the dark.
Is the Silverash family trying to sell out the country?”
Shouts and curses surged outside the low, humble office building.
Just days ago, Prime Minister Ernest had been politely described as “not bad.” Now, he had become a public enemy, branded as a traitor to Kjeragandr.
Forcing her way through the furious crowd, Lara finally slipped inside.
Her face was filled with worry.
“Young master, it’s not safe here anymore.
Should we relocate?”
But Ernest shook his head.
Seated at his desk, he showed no sign of discouragement, instead speaking calmly:
“I’m fine, Lara.
The prime minister does not abandon his post.
Besides, since Lord Arctosz and Miss Ratatos are both here, I assume my safety is guaranteed.
Am I right?”
He turned to the two figures in the room.
Arctosz of the Paleroche family sat on the sofa, a pipe clenched between his teeth.
Ratatos of the Browntail family leaned by the window, gazing at the agitated crowd outside.
Arctosz lifted his head, glanced at Ernest, and openly showed his disdain.
“Not necessarily.
I never go easy on those who betray Kjeragandr.”
Ratatos, meanwhile, tilted her head slightly, lowering the hand that had been supporting her chin.
Crossing her arms, she asked:
“Your reason?”
“To make money,” Ernest replied.
Her brow furrowed.
Clearly dissatisfied, she pressed further:
“And why do you need money?”
The Browntail family had always believed in balance.
They lacked the wealth of the Silverash family and the military strength of the Paleroche, yet they maintained their position through careful equilibrium and caution. Follow the newest chapters on novelping.com.
They pursued profit as well.
Aside from the rare imports brought in by Karlan Trade, nearly all goods in Turicum originated from Browntail territory.
But their actions had purpose—to balance against the Paleroche family, to restore order to the Tri-Clan Council, and to prevent themselves from being swallowed by an unchecked rival.
It was no coincidence that the Silverash family’s return to the council and Karlan Trade’s expansion into Kjerag both bore their influence.
She did not believe Ernest’s motives were so simple.
Six hundred million—an unimaginable sum.
Yet Ernest fell silent, as if avoiding the question.
After all, what could he say?
That he needed the money to overturn them and establish a true central authority in Kjerag?
Of course, Ernest could give the usual official answer—for the development of Kjerag.
That kind of rhetoric worked well enough in public settings.
But here, behind closed doors, with the two great families pressing him for answers, reciting empty formalities would only make him look like a fool.
At best, they would dismiss him.
At worst, they might slap him just to see if he’d snap out of it.
After a long silence, just as Ratatos was beginning to lose patience, Ernest finally spoke:
“For Kjerag’s future.
So I won’t regret it later.”
Ratatos’s already furrowed brow tightened further.
She didn’t believe Ernest didn’t understand how hollow that sounded.
Yet he said it anyway.
What was he implying?
That he was speaking nonsense on purpose, daring them to call him out?
“Damn it!
You sell Kjerag’s land to those Columbian vultures, and you still dare claim it’s for Kjerag’s future?”
Arctosz finally exploded.
He slammed his pipe onto the table and rose with a sharp crack, striding toward Ernest.
His burly frame, hardened by years of training, and his thick beard gave him a fearsome presence—even Enciodes would hesitate before him.
Now he loomed directly over Ernest, glaring down as he roared:
“I put you in that seat to rein in your unruly brother!
I thought maybe you’d keep him in check.
Turns out he quieted down, and now you’re the one stirring trouble!”
“I’m telling you this right now.
As long as I’m here, as long as the Paleroche family stands, not a single inch of Kjerag’s land will be sold to Columbia!”
“To be precise, I borrowed money.
The land is merely collateral.”
Ernest spoke slowly.
“And as for your accusations, Lord Arctosz… did you really not expect things to turn out this way?”
His gaze met Arctosz’s head-on, his own anger, long restrained, now visible.
“You pushed me into this position to warn my brother—since you couldn’t deal with him yourself.
That kind of balancing act wasn’t your idea alone.
I’m sure Miss Ratatos had a hand in it.”
“In the end, neither of you understands me, nor did you ever intend to.
To you, I was just a useless puppet.
You thought that sitting in a powerless position, I would obediently act according to your will and help you deal with my brother.”
He let out a cold laugh.
“Did it never occur to you that even a puppet, once given the title of Prime Minister, might want to do something?”
Selfish.
The moment you learned about the loan, you didn’t think about Kjerag.
You thought about the Silverash family growing stronger overnight.
You thought about those six hundred million Columbian gold certificates.”
“You are not conservative when it comes to principles.
You simply prioritize yourselves.”
He straightened slightly, his tone firm.
“But let me make one thing clear.
This money was borrowed in the name of the Kjerag government.
I will not spend it solely on Silverash territory.
It will be allocated based on population across all regions.”
“Because this money concerns Kjerag’s future.”
Children were the future.
Educating them meant shaping that future.
But Arctosz, a man of war, would never understand that.
He would rather see schools teach nothing but physical training, raising generations skilled in hunting through the mountains—each generation teaching the next, an endless cycle.
“You—!”
Whether struck at a sore point or simply enraged, Arctosz raised his hand as if to strike Ernest.
But before he could act, Lara stepped forward without hesitation, placing herself between them.
Arctosz recognized her.
A girl born in Paleroche territory.
A snowfield Ursus.
And now, she stood against him.
Though smaller in stature, Lara showed no fear.
She met his gaze directly and said firmly:
“What Ernest said is true!”
She believed him without question—because he had once shown her the world beyond these mountains.
Arctosz’s arm froze midair.
He glared, grumbling, “Fine, I’ll hit both of you,” yet his hand never came down.
Seeing this, the silent Ratatos let out a quiet sigh.
She turned to Ernest and spoke calmly:
“Ernest, I don’t believe your words.
But I do think you deserve a chance.”
“According to Kjerag’s traditions, when the Tri-Clan Council cannot resolve a matter, we may ascend the Holy Mountain, stand upon the Sacred Stone Plaza, and pray to Kjeragandr’s divine stone for judgment.”
“But think carefully.
You are still young.
If you admit your mistake now, with your status, there is still room to recover.
You may step down, but you would have another chance in the future.”
Her expression hardened.
“But if you step onto that plaza and are denied by Kjeragandr, you will have no place left in Kjerag.”
“This is the bottom line.”
Those rejected by Kjeragandr have no right to remain on this land.
It was an unspoken truth, yet one shared by every person in Kjerag.
“Do you dare?” she asked.
Ernest nodded.
“I do.”
T/N: I usually upload 2 chapters per day, but since I like stories with politics and kingdom building, and i’m really interested in this fic.
So I will upload this fic more than usual depending on the situation.
But don’t worry, the chapters will remain 2 chapters per day as a minimum for this fic.