CH883 · Rewrite
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Chapter 883: A New Generation of Officials

“Respects to Your Majesty!”

The ceremonial officer Blanche Orlando set the tone and the officials followed — knelt in unison, a low human wall lining both sides of the hall.

“Respects to Your Majesty!”

The servants and maids came next, the people who kept the palace clean and running. As Roland swept his gaze across the hall he saw every head bent, every face carrying the same compound expression: reverence threaded through with something close to fear.

“Respects to Your Majesty!”

Last were the First Army soldiers, kneeling behind him. Their voices were the loudest of the three — not quite speech, something closer to the successive crash of waves.

Roland had thought himself immune to this kind of scene. He had watched enough military parades and large gatherings to have made himself indifferent. Yet here, now, in the moment of it, he felt something regardless — a warmth that surprised him. Being held in regard by this many people was the same feeling no matter how many times it came.

The cheering continued as he walked up the steps toward the heart of the old king’s city, the Holy Temple of Double Towers.

Once he was settled on the throne, the officials made their way in and arranged themselves in three rows before him. Roland studied the hundred or so faces with something that was almost sentiment. The City of Dawn had earned its name as Graycastle’s former center — it had taken only a year to assemble this many literate officials, and most of them had come from humble stock. That level of education was perhaps matched only by Neverwinter.

“Your Majesty, your scepter.” Blanche stepped forward and offered a gleaming gold staff with both hands. Intricate patterns covered every surface; a translucent blue sapphire was set into its tip. “Forged by the goldsmith who specializes in these. Every king’s scepter has its own particular character.”

Roland’s instinct was to find no use for such a symbol. Treating it with too much ceremony would make him look like a man trying on a borrowed coat. But the hall was large and full of people, and he quickly saw the point: without it, gathering everyone’s attention would be a negotiation. With it, he simply had to raise the thing and tap.

He raised it and tapped.

The room fell quiet.

“You all know who I am, so I’ll spare the introduction.” He spoke at a measured pace, letting his gaze move across the hall. “My goals for this expedition are straightforward. First, to eliminate threats. Second, to put things back in order. When I say ‘threat,’ I don’t mean only military opponents — I mean anyone who obstructs the implementation of the new policies, whether noble, merchant, freeman, or Rat. These people will be treated no differently from open rebels.”

He paused, then continued.

“To achieve the second goal, an administrative structure modeled on Neverwinter’s City Hall will be established here. By now you’ve all heard the general terms: City Hall officials receive strong compensation and benefits, and advancement depends on ability, not ancestry. In other words, a commoner who performs well can rise to minister. Even to Prime Minister.”

A murmur broke through the hall — low and immediate, the sound of people recalculating. Before this announcement, even minor nobles had never imagined such positions as possibilities. The story of Barov — a treasurer’s apprentice who had become the second most powerful figure in the kingdom — was already widely known in these parts. Eyes sharpened across the room.

“Not everyone will be admitted into the City Hall,” Roland continued, level. “You’ll need to pass an examination first.”

The murmur grew.

“Your Majesty — what will be tested?” Someone from the crowd found the nerve to ask.

“Questions assessing reliability,” Roland said, with a small smile. “No different in principle from the process in Neverwinter. A candidate doesn’t need a perfect score, but there is a minimum. The specific contents will be announced shortly before the examination.”

In truth the question set was adapted from Scroll’s Ten Questions of Loyalty, with additions covering work expectations and approach. The true purpose was to ensure the administrative team’s integrity — though it was deliberately not called a loyalty examination, because the word alone would drive people away. In this era, disloyalty covered an almost absurdly wide range of offenses: thinking disrespectful thoughts about the monarchy, grumbling about the king’s decisions over a cup of wine. Every citizen alive had done something the law could call disloyal. Label the test plainly and the room would empty within the hour.

Eventually, as recruitment expanded, Nightingale would not be able to screen every candidate personally. But at this founding stage, Roland wanted as much reliability built in as possible. The people selected now would become the permanent scaffolding of the administration, assuming they adapted well.

“Anyone admitted into the City Hall must relinquish their private businesses,” he added. “Officials may not engage in commercial dealings. Violations will be severely punished. I ask that everyone consider this carefully before applying.”

A pail of cold water, precisely placed. The hall quieted.

Unlike Bordertown, most of these people had established trades and livelihoods built over years. Abandoning all of it for a new position was not a small ask.

But it was necessary. Some would find workarounds — hand the business to a distant relative, hire a proxy — but the policy had to hold on the surface at minimum. Roland knew perfectly well that genuine professional officials were a concept this era had not yet developed; noble appointments were understood as honors, not duties, and men who wore them as honors would always put their personal interests first when their glory wasn’t threatened.

Professionalization bound the selected personnel to their departments. Their only legitimate path to greater benefit became the prosperity of the kingdom itself. Separating business from governance also prevented the absurdity of a man arbitrating disputes in industries where he personally competed.

“One final point.” Seeing the mood settle into uncertainty, Roland released what he had been holding back. “I will personally record the name of every City Hall official, regardless of rank. Your position — and the benefits that come with it — will be recognized across every territory under my rule. Not only here.”

That was the genuine prize of professional bureaucracy, and its weight landed visibly in the room. Most of the people standing before him didn’t yet grasp the full scope of what it meant to hold authority that traveled with you — but they would understand the taste of it in time.

The old king’s city had already been through several rounds of purges; the noble class had been substantially stripped away, which made reorganization considerably easier here than in the previous cities. Plenty of doubts remained visible on individual faces, but no one stepped forward to oppose. A long queue formed at the registration table before the gathering had properly ended.


Roland returned to his study and was about to send for Theo, Yorko, and others from the old Western Region circle for a private conversation when a guard came in at speed.

“Your Majesty. We have just received a report from the garrison in the Northern Region. They have spotted the Kingdom of Dawn’s army to the west of Hermes.”

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