In Kjerag, time seemed to pass quickly.
This snowbound land, sheltered by the grace of Kjeragandr, knew none of the ever-present catastrophes that could claim lives at any moment and drive people from their homes.
The people rose with the sun and rested at dusk.
Occasionally, they would visit the emerging town of Turicum to glimpse the novelties brought in from the outside world.
After the brief excitement, life returned to its usual rhythm, as if nothing had really changed.
As for the so-called “Kjerag People’s Assembly” and the “Kjerag Government,” few paid them much attention.
People only knew that this government now represented Kjerag, and even the three great families had to show it a measure of respect.
But who really cared?
Most still made their living within the territories of the three families, and daily life had not changed in any noticeable way because of the government’s existence.
Perhaps it came up occasionally in idle conversation, but more often than not, people talked about Ernest Silverash himself rather than the government he led.
If someone were to ask what kind of person the Prime Minister of Kjerag was, most would probably reply:
“Who?”
A smaller number might offer a polite answer:
“He seems like a good person.”
Ernest, for his part, had no intention of forcing his presence on anyone.
The reason was simple.
Until Enciodes completed his trip to Columbia as Kjerag’s representative, the government remained little more than an empty shell.
A government without money has no credibility.
Even Julius Caesar secured his reforms by rewarding his legions in gold, without coin, who would follow you?
As for being rated even lower than a “nice guy” and reduced to “who are you,” Ernest couldn’t care less.
Because soon enough, everyone in Kjerag would remember him.
And after that, it was unlikely anyone would ever describe him as “a good person” again.
Time flew by.
In the small, modest government office, Ernest arrived right on time and greeted his secretary, Miss Lara, who had already checked in early.
The name Lara might not be familiar to some, but in Rhodes Island she went by another codename: Aurora, the operator who once carried the Doctor through the chaos of the Snowcap Incident.
As part of the Silverash family’s talent development program, Lara had been sent to Columbia to study, specializing in defensive engineering under extreme snowfield conditions.
In a sense, she was more of a civil engineering specialist, someone who had little to do with secretarial work.
But Ernest had so few people at his disposal that he had no choice but to assign this trusted subordinate to the role for now.
The reason was simple.
Her study application had been personally approved by him.
As a snowfield Ursus living in territory controlled by the Paleroche family, Lara would never have made it onto Enciodes’ tightly curated list of sponsored students.
After all, opportunities to study abroad were limited, and Enciodes, as a businessman, naturally prioritized his own people.
There was no reason to invest heavily in cultivating talent from outside his circle.
But Ernest had recognized her.
The reason was simple.
Even as a casual observer, he had once seen footage of Aurora carrying the Doctor for an hour straight, and had used plenty of those wildly popular Aurora-themed memes.
The coincidence was too striking to ignore.
Whether due to some shift in fate or Enciodes’ own decision, Lara’s name had not been included.
Ernest couldn’t stand by and watch such a hardworking and promising girl have her future cut off by circumstance.
So he quietly found the family butler, Chester, borrowed the key to Enciodes’ room, slipped into the study that night, and added her name to the list himself, noting beside it: “Her expenses will be covered by me.”
It wasn’t exactly an honorable act.
Yet the next morning, when Enciodes saw the list, he said nothing.
It was as if he hadn’t noticed, silently allowing it.
And so, Lara gained her chance to go to Columbia.
Later, through some unknown means, she learned what had happened that night.
She declined an offer to join a Columbian research expedition, returned to Kjerag, joined Karlan Trade, and when Ernest was appointed as the first Prime Minister, she voluntarily applied to become a civil servant.
This was also how Ernest learned about the missing steel.
As a graduate specializing in snowfield engineering, Lara had a clear estimate of how much steel Kjerag’s railway projects actually required, and the amount imported by Karlan Trade far exceeded that figure.
Ernest hung his winter coat on the rack and had just taken his seat when Lara stepped forward, delivering the news he had been waiting for:
“Young Master Ernest, Master Enciodes has just sent word.
Columbia’s Magnus Bank has accepted our loan application.
Their representatives are already on the way and should arrive at the Turicum pass in about two days.”
Still a bit groggy, Ernest instantly snapped awake.
“When was the message sent?” he asked quickly.
On Terra, because of Catastrophes and geopolitical constraints, a fully interconnected communication network spanning the land remained an unattainable dream.
Even the intercity networks of mobile cities only connected when two cities docked.
Most of the time, communication between cities and nations relied on an ancient profession: messengers. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Whether on foot or by vehicle, messengers inevitably meant delays.
The message Ernest had just received from Enciodes might have been sent days ago.
For all he knew, the man could already be well on his way.
“Two days ago,” Lara confirmed, as expected.
“Master Enciodes and his party should be arriving soon.”
Ernest let out a sigh, not in the mood to complain about Terra’s frustrating communication methods.
He stood up at once, grabbing his coat and hat that had barely warmed up in the heated room.
“Then let’s go.”
“This is the first major deal for our Kjerag government.
Our salaries depend on it, so look alive.”
He paused mid-step, as if recalling something, then turned back to Lara with a serious expression.
“Oh, right.
Don’t call me ‘Young Master’ outside.
Call me ‘Mister’ or ‘Prime Minister.’ That’s how they do it over there.
We need to show our Columbian friends that Kjerag is civilized.
Leave a good impression on our… clients.
Got it?”
Lara nodded.
“Understood.” She hesitated for a moment, then asked cautiously, “What about in private?”
Ernest had no idea why she was so attached to the title, but he waved it off.
“It’s just the two of us in private.
Call me whatever you like.”
“Yes, Young Master!”
“…Hmm?” Ernest raised his tone slightly.
Lara froze for a split second, then quickly corrected herself with a small bow.
“Yes, Prime Minister!”