Walking through the corridors of the Monastery, Enya seemed unable to contain her curiosity.
From time to time, she glanced back at her younger brother.
“How did you manage that?
I thought the Grand Elder would make things difficult for you.”
Ernest did not answer immediately.
Instead, he cast a cautious look at the black-haired attendant walking silently beside Enya, who seemed to be deliberately minimizing her presence.
He had never seen her before, yet the way she looked at him felt strangely familiar.
It reminded him of how his mother used to look at him before he left for an interview, a gaze filled with affection and quiet expectation.
There was nothing inherently unusual about such a feeling, but seeing that kind of maternal warmth on the face of a servant was decidedly odd.
Sensing his concern, Enya glanced at Kjera but did not dismiss her.
Instead, she smiled gently.
“This is Kjera, my head attendant.
She has lived in the Monastery longer than I have.
You can trust her.”
As if in response, Kjera, who had been wearing a thoughtful expression, set aside her curiosity and offered Ernest a calm, courteous smile.
“She doesn’t feel like a head attendant.
More like an elder,” Ernest thought instinctively, though he chose not to dwell on it.
Since his sister trusted her, he would do the same for now.
He shrugged and explained:
“It’s simple.
The Grand Elder is easy to read.
He opposes reform, but he knows how to prioritize.”
Enya nodded in understanding.
“So you laid out Kjerag’s main contradictions to him, and he agreed out of a sense of duty?”
Ernest rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“No.
I just told him that the person he should be dealing with right now is my brother, not me.”
Enya was momentarily speechless, then burst out laughing, her entire face lighting up with undisguised delight.
“Hahaha, that’s true.
It’s about time that guy had someone give him trouble.”
After laughing for a while, her mood visibly improved.
Returning to the Saintess’s chambers, Enya took her seat, watching as Ernest sat down on a chair brought over by Kjera.
Only then did she speak again:
“The Grand Elder isn’t someone you can brush off so easily.
He’s been dissatisfied with that man for a long time, but he’s never had the right excuse to act.
I thought that excuse would be you.
So how exactly did you convince him?”
The establishment of the National Assembly and Ernest’s rise to power were the result of compromise among all parties.
Anyone with even a basic understanding of Kjerag’s politics knew this.
The Vine-Bead Court had long been displeased with Enciodes using the names of “Karlan” and “Kjerag” in his external dealings.
Before Karlan Trade was established, the Monastery had been the only institution representing Kjerag officially.
As for the Browntail and Paleroches families, they were dissatisfied that the profits earned by Karlan Trade under the banner of official authority all flowed into the Silverash family’s coffers.
This imbalance threatened the equilibrium of power among the factions.
With both sides applying pressure, Enciodes had no choice but to compromise and relinquish the “political entity for Kjerag’s external relations” that he had already all but secured.
Naturally, he did not take this lightly and quickly launched a countermeasure.
Even if he could not keep the prize for himself, he would not allow it to fall into the hands of the other two families or the Monastery.
Since everyone claimed to be acting “for Kjerag,” then fine.
They would follow the example of other nations and formally establish a government body recognized by all parties.
This organization would handle Kjerag’s external relations and official trade, while Karlan Trade would be limited to coordination and private transactions.
That should satisfy everyone.
On the surface, the proposal seemed fair.
Judging purely by its wording, it resembled the kind of “equal opportunity, shared benefit” agreements seen in free trade treaties, with no obvious flaws.
The problem was that this was a calculated, transparent strategy.
For thousands of years, Kjerag had remained isolated from the outside world.
What little politics existed never extended beyond family rivalries.
At its most intense, political struggle meant reporting each other before Kjeragandr, accusing one another of violating ancestral laws.
As for foreign exchange?
What foreign exchange?
Kjerag was a divine nation, rich in resources.
It had no need for such things!
Under these circumstances, if a modern government institution were truly to be established, where would the necessary officials come from?
Could the Paleroches warriors suddenly master administrative writing?
Could the Browntail merchants take on the coordination of large-scale trade?
Or would they appoint clergy from the Monastery to run the government, leaving finances and planning in complete disarray while consulting oracles instead of addressing the people?
Clearly, the manpower would still have to come from the Silverash family.
In essence, it would simply be the same personnel from Karlan Trade, now dressed in the guise of government officials.
The Browntail and Paleroches families were not blind to this, but the reality remained.
They could force Silverash to give up the prize, yet they could not openly claim it for themselves.
And since Enciodes’s proposal left little room for objection, the only thing they could do was decide who would “cook the meat.”
Just as they had once sent Enya to the sacred mountain to weaken the Silverash family, this time they put forward Ernest to play that role.
In the end, however, this was still nothing more than the three great families dividing the spoils.
No one cared about the original owner of the “cake,” the Vine-Bead Court.
Retaliation from the Monastery was inevitable.
“So I pointed the Grand Elder toward a target and gave him a method,” Ernest said calmly.
“My brother’s Karlan Trade isn’t entirely clean.
When they were building railways in Kjerag, they purchased more steel than necessary.
I told the Grand Elder about it.”
“Steel?”
Enya repeated the word softly, still puzzled.
“I’ve never heard of this before.
What does it prove?”
“It proves that my brother deceived the Monastery, the Grand Elder, and you as well, Enya.
Deception alone is enough.”
Ernest spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.
“For a politician, the worst thing is letting others know exactly what you’re doing.
But it’s just as bad to let them think you’re doing nothing at all.”
Enya nodded, half understanding.
Soon, a faint smile appeared on her face.
Unable to resist, she reached out and ruffled Ernest’s hair.
“You’re so young, yet you speak in riddles no one can follow.
Anyway, as long as you’re fine, that’s what matters.
If you run into any trouble, tell your sister.
I’ll help however I can.”
As she spoke, she gestured to Kjera.
“You came for the Monastery’s ledgers, right?
They’re kept in the Archive Hall.
Go with Kjera.
I still have to finish today’s sermon, or the elders will start nagging again.”
___
On the way to the Archive Hall.
Kjera, the head attendant, walked ahead, with Ernest following behind.
The hall was located in a remote part of the Monastery, and they encountered no one along the way.
Halfway there, Kjera turned slightly, curiosity evident in her voice.
“Speaker, there’s something I’m curious about.
May I ask?”
Ernest had been admiring the vast, desolate landscape stretching out from the mountaintop.
Hearing her, he turned back.
“What is it?”
Kjera did not hesitate.
“About what you told the Saintess earlier, regarding the steel.
Why would that make the Grand Elder angry?”
Ernest tilted his head, puzzled by the question.
“Isn’t it obvious?
The Monastery used to be Kjerag’s governing authority.
If Karlan Trade secretly stockpiled steel without reporting it, of course he’d be upset.
Think of it this way.
The Saintess gives you money to buy sweets, but every time, you secretly keep one for yourself without telling her.
If she found out, wouldn’t she be angry?”
Kjera nodded thoughtfully.
Ernest paused, then clicked his tongue, sounding slightly bored.
“Put simply, I just played into his sense of ownership.
Here I am, the current Prime Minister of Kjerag, coming to him for help, an old man left behind by the times.
It makes him feel important and gives him the impression that I’m not much of a threat.
I just nudged his mindset a bit.
That’s all.”
Kjera’s face was filled with astonishment, as though she had never encountered such a way of handling things before.
It seemed to shake her entire understanding.
After a long moment, she finally regained her composure and spoke again.
“I have one last question.”
Ernest, somewhat bored, nodded.
“Go ahead.”
Kjera narrowed her eyes.
“If Karlan Trade secretly stockpiled steel, then the Grand Elder didn’t know, the Saintess didn’t know, and neither did the Tri-Clan Council.
There have never even been rumors of such a thing in Kjerag.
Enciodes must have kept it extremely well hidden.
So, Speaker… where did you learn about it?”
Ernest paused mid-step.
Noticing that the footsteps behind her had stopped, Kjera turned around.
For a brief moment, she thought she saw something flash across Ernest’s otherwise lazy expression, a confident smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“Well, I am the Speaker and Prime Minister,” he said casually.
“I have my own channels.”
“Aren’t you afraid of offending your brother?
I’ve heard from Enya that he’s quite formidable.”
Ernest let out a helpless sigh and spread his hands.
He knew very well how capable Silverash was.
“What choice do I have?
Sitting in this position, everything must be for Kjerag.”