Narrowing his eyes, Ernest held the ledger closer, then farther away, looking every bit like someone squinting at a phone on the subway.
After a long silence, he finally confirmed that his eyesight wasn’t the problem.
His expression twisted, and he couldn’t hold back anymore.
“What the hell… how did Kjerag end up like this?!”
His frustration was understandable.
If the figures submitted by the three families and compiled by the Vine-Bead Court were even remotely accurate, then during the monastery era, Kjerag’s government expenditures fell into four main categories:
Around sixty percent went to religious rituals, thirty percent to infrastructure maintenance, eight percent to research, industrial investment, and development, and a mere two percent to national defense.
Even someone with no background in politics or economics could tell at a glance how absurd these numbers were.
Yet Kjera, the head maid who had claimed she was “instructed by the Saintess to assist Ernest,” tilted her head in confusion, as if she saw nothing strange at all.
“What’s so unusual about that?”
“That’s not unusual to you?” Ernest slid down against the wall, covering his face.
He had expected that, as an untouched agricultural land free from modern industrialization, Kjerag’s finances wouldn’t look impressive.
He had prepared himself for that.
What he hadn’t expected was that revenue wasn’t even the worst part.
The real shock was how it was being spent.
“Take Ursus for example.
In previous years, over fifty percent of their national budget went to defense.
Even now, it still holds steady at around forty percent.
As for Columbia, they not only allocate over thirty percent of their budget to technological development every year, but also set up special innovation funds to reward breakthroughs in research.”
He paused, then continued.
“Think about it.
How big are Columbia and Ursus?
If they were ever to compete with Kjerag in technology or military strength, what chance would Kjerag have?”
Kjera nodded in understanding, but still seemed unconvinced.
“But the Paleroches army looks quite strong, and Karlan Trade has developed some impressive technologies.”
Ernest looked up and gave her a long, exaggerated eye roll.
“You’re not wrong.
But setting aside how effective militia forces without modern weapons really are, can the Paleroches family represent Kjerag as a whole?”
“No matter how strong their soldiers are, they belong to the Paleroches family.
They’re private troops.
Just like how they’ve never asked the monastery for funding, if something really happens, the Kjerag government has no authority to command them.
To put it bluntly, the Paleroches are essentially a warlord family.
They just happen to still obey the government for now.”
Kjera frowned, clearly displeased.
“How can you say that?
For thousands of years, it’s been the Paleroches family protecting Kjerag!”
Ernest pressed his lips together.
He knew she wasn’t wrong.
It was a belief deeply rooted in nearly every Kjerag citizen.
But reality was reality.
If Kjerag were to truly modernize, the Paleroches family would inevitably have to be brought under control, or even dismantled.
That, too, was an unavoidable truth.
“Just because something has always been that way… does that make it right?”
Ernest didn’t press her further.
Understanding something like this took time.
Right now, there were more urgent matters to deal with, namely, the financial crisis.
At its core, all fiscal problems came down to four words: increase revenue, reduce expenditure.
Cutting costs always offended people, especially when the largest portion of spending was tied to religion.
It had to be reduced, but how to do it was a delicate problem.
Kjerag’s faith in Kjeragandr was absolute.
Even someone as rebellious as Enciodes had to show proper respect before the Saintess, or face backlash from the entire nation.
That meant Ernest couldn’t simply redirect the conflict onto a particular family or individual the way he had done with Karlan Trade.
The room for maneuver was extremely limited.
After all, religious rituals were ancestral tradition.
Anyone who dared tamper with them would lose their head.
After much thought, Ernest decided to set aside cost-cutting for now and focus on increasing revenue instead.
Compared to cutting expenses, there were far more options for generating income.
Tourism, mining, land sales, there were many ways to boost government revenue.
After weighing them one by one, Ernest ultimately chose the simplest, most convenient path, one that required almost no upfront investment.
But it wasn’t something he could accomplish alone.
He needed help.
“Miss Head Maid, I’ll be taking this ledger with me.”
He stood up, brushing the dust off his trousers, and looked at Kjera, who seemed somewhat downcast.
After a moment’s thought, he decided to say something reassuring.
“You don’t have to take what I said too seriously.
Whether it’s building an army or developing technology, those are concerns for me as Kjerag’s prime minister.
They don’t really have much to do with you or my sister.”
“Besides, I’m basically a commander without troops right now.
Everything I said earlier is just talk.”
He let out a small, self-deprecating laugh.
“For all I know, I’ll end up failing miserably, like trying to draw water with a wooden basket, and just make a mess of things.”
Kjera lifted her head, a searching light flickering in her deep blue eyes.
“If that’s the case… will you still keep trying?”
Ernest nodded without hesitation.
“I will.”
Kjera smiled, gentle and almost radiant, and inclined her head slightly.
“Then Kjeragandr will bless you.”
The smile was so striking that Ernest found himself momentarily lost in it.
He quickly realized his lapse, rubbed his eyes with a faint blush, and covered his embarrassment.
“Thank you for your blessing.
May Kjeragandr watch over us.”
With that, he turned and strode out of the Hall of Records, his pace just a little too quick, almost like a retreat.
___
Karlan Trade Headquarters, nearing the end of the workday.
Because of the situation with Gnosis, Enciodes had been unusually busy.
The sudden reshuffling of personnel had taken up much of his time.
Normally, by now, he would already be home, enjoying a cup of tea while contemplating the future. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Yet he felt no fatigue.
On the contrary, he was in high spirits, even better than usual.
The reason was simple.
He had won his wager with his old friend, and his younger brother had given him quite the surprise.
He had expected that Ernest, thrust into the roles of prime minister and council chairman with no real support, would struggle for a while.
“I should still remind him that setting up his own brother like that isn’t exactly good behavior.”
Thinking this, Enciodes looked up at the sound of lively footsteps outside his office.
Before he could even say “come in,” a silver-haired figure burst through the door and launched herself straight at him.
At this rate, news of an assassination attempt on Enciodes would probably spread across Kjerag by tomorrow.
“Big brother!”
Ensia scrambled up from on top of him and shouted, “Sorry, sorry!”
Rubbing his chest, Enciodes got up from the floor with a helpless sigh and looked at his most energetic sister.
There were four siblings in the Silverash family.
He was the eldest, now chairman of Karlan Trade.
The second was Enya, the Saintess of Kjerag.
The third was Ernest, newly appointed prime minister and council chairman.
And then there was the youngest, Ensia, who seemed to have inherited all of her older siblings’ physical talents and set her sights on becoming a master of extreme sports.
“Knock next time,” Enciodes said, patting her head.
“And even if you don’t, at least don’t charge in like that.
You’ll get hurt.”
Only in front of his youngest sister did he show such gentleness.
Ensia obediently rubbed her head against his hand, as if offering that as her apology.
“Alright, what is it this time?
Want me to bring you more sports gear from Victoria?”
Ensia pouted.
“Can’t I just come see you?”
“You could wait for me at home.
I’ve been in Kjerag lately,” Enciodes replied, clearly unconvinced.
“If you came all the way here, there’s definitely a reason.”
“Can’t fool you,” Ensia admitted with a shrug.
“But you got one thing wrong.
It’s not me who wants to see you.
Someone else does.”
“Who?” Enciodes raised an eyebrow.
“Big brother Ernest.”
Enciodes couldn’t help but laugh.
“Then why doesn’t he come himself?”
“He said he just offended you and wanted me to test the waters first.
If you’re angry, he’ll come another time.” Ensia relayed everything without the slightest hesitation.
“That brat…” Enciodes sat back down.
“Did he say what he wants?”
Ensia answered simply, “Money.”
Then, as if that wasn’t enough, she exaggerated her tone and expression, dragging out the words:
“A big—pile of money!”