CH1036 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1036: Regime of the New Kingdom

On the second day after his coronation, Roland convened the third plenary session in the castle’s reception hall.

The subject was power — its distribution, its terms, its cost. Nothing in the new government structure concerned the assembled officers more.

They had chosen correctly. Now they expected to be rewarded for it.

Serving a local lord and serving the king were, as every man in this room understood, entirely different propositions. Most of them had worked long enough in the City Hall to have grasped Roland’s guiding principle: weaken the local, strengthen the center. What it meant for them was this: they were no longer the managers of a small piece of the Western Region. They were the top officers of the Kingdom of Graycastle. Their reach would extend far beyond anything the old great nobles had commanded.

Roland read all of this in their faces and did not let it fester.

“First,” he said, “let me congratulate each one of you. Everyone in this room is entering Graycastle’s governing elite. In the coming decades, you will be joining me in the task of running this kingdom.”

Barov rose immediately. “Your Majesty flatters us beyond measure.” His bow was deep, his expression delighted. “We are at your disposal. Whatever you require, simply name it.”

The flattery was smooth. The ambition behind it was visible. Roland gestured for everyone to sit.

“There is one principle I need to establish from the start,” he said. “The reason I removed the feudal nobles’ power was to replace it with capable personnel. A kingdom’s strength depends on the quality of the people working inside it. I do not intend to watch you become another version of the nobility.”

“Of course,” Barov said quickly. “No one can guarantee his descendants will be equally capable. All positions should go to the most qualified.”

Murmurs of agreement ran around the hall.

Roland nodded, but said nothing. He had noticed — over the past two years, the City Hall officers had changed. Their flattery had grown more polished. The expressions in their eyes held something new: an awareness that this man before them was no longer merely a lord, but a king. It produced a sensation he recognized as satisfaction, and immediately distrusted.

This is probably what the ceremony does. No wonder Timothy and Garcia were willing to drag half the kingdom through war just to sit on that throne.

He did not linger in the sensation. Even as supreme king, what he governed was still one corner of a vast continent. Contentment at this scale was the same disease that reduced petty chieftains to petty thinking. The world was too large.

“What you’ve said is only the most basic point,” he continued, letting his gaze move across the room. “Even the most capable person cannot be trusted to remain qualified indefinitely. There are many routes to ruin: external temptation, the calcification of thinking, the desire to expand personal influence. None of you are immune.”

The officers lowered their heads. The room held its breath.

“Appointment to this group is the beginning of your career, not the reward for it. Your performance will be assessed annually. Promotion or stagnation will follow accordingly.” He paused. “And there are worse outcomes. Anyone who knowingly damages the kingdom will be removed and sent to trial.”

Barov cleared his throat. “May I ask — who writes the assessment reports, Your Majesty?”

“I do,” Roland said. “Any further questions?”

The silence that followed answered him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You’ve worked toward this for years, and if what you’ve earned is not rest but continued vigilance — continued risk — then what was the point? But I want you to understand: your reward and your obligation are not in opposition. They are complementary. Think of it as a loaf of bread. When the loaf is large enough, every man can eat well even with a small portion. When the loaf is too small, eating all of it still leaves you hungry. Those who stand closer to the front will get their portion sooner. That is the nature of the arrangement — and I believe you understand it.”

The resources available to a senior officer — the connections, the access, the latitude — went far beyond any listed salary. Any man too dim to see that was too dim to have a voice in the City Hall.

The stick-and-carrot principle had been tested across centuries of history. Roland had found, applying it, that the rough edges came off quickly.

“Before I announce the appointments: anyone who wishes to leave may do so now. Those who leave will receive a substantial payment in gold royals — enough to live on comfortably for the rest of your lives. But those who remain take on the obligations of their office. Make your choice.”

Nobody moved.

Not even the minister of Chemical Industry, who had complained about his position constantly in the early days and had spoken openly of retirement. He had, over two years of actual governing, acquired a precise understanding of what the title of minister was worth when it came time to negotiate appropriations with Barov.

“Good,” Roland said, and almost smiled. “Here are your appointments.”


The largest structural change from the old City Hall was the integration of the surrounding regions.

Roland had adapted a system he recognized from another world: major cities designated as provinces, their prefectures encompassing the surrounding towns and villages. The administrator of each province carried the title of governor — the same rank as a minister. Each province would establish its own city hall, subordinate to the central City Hall in Neverwinter.

The foundation for this already existed in the secondary City Halls Roland had set up during the expansion of the Western Region. The transformation required no new machinery, only new mandates. The ministers’ workloads would increase considerably. So would their reach.

Barov, as he had always hoped, was named Hand of the King: responsible for coordinating all departments and concurrently managing the Treasury. He was among the first batch of Border Town’s managers, had trained more administrative talent than anyone else in the City Hall, and had never once been given a reason to question whether choosing Roland had been correct. The appointment was, by any measure, fitting. He had not expected Roland to remember the joke made four years ago. He had not expected it to become real.

Among the new structures, one had no precedent at all: the Headquarters of the General Staff.

This was not a battlefield staff organization. It was a strategic body — responsible for foreign policy and long-range planning, for managing Graycastle’s relationships with the three other kingdoms and with the Fjords as those relationships grew more complex. With the threat of the Battle of Divine Will compressing the horizons of every nation, Roland needed a body capable of seeing past the immediate. Of controlling the overall situation before the situation controlled him.

Its minister was Edith Kant.

The Pearl of the Northern Region.

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