Cobwebs.
That was all the treasury contained. A smaller building held up by pillars, it stood across the plaza from the palace. Inside, a large room was full of desks and abacuses and silence, where bureaucrats had once done their work.
Now, however, it was as empty as the vault in the back, which looked depressingly like a decrepit old warehouse waiting for renovation.
We’d scoured the palace, searching for jewels, regalia, and artwork, anything that could fetch a profit if sold to a collector. A few prize paintings, the royal jewellery, the Royal Arms—which I’d previously assumed to be attached to my shoulders—and several other items had popped up, meaning we had a short-term income.
I had, however, allowed myself to be a little too optimistic. What was I expecting with an Economy yield of -77? Still, I’d sent Duke Kalvin to make enquiries about the items I wanted to sell, while a few choice things I’d decided to keep, much to his relief.
He’d been apoplectic when I’d suggested the fire sale, but this had seemed to placate him. He didn’t need to know the reasons. I had no interest in finery or trinkets, but they’d make a great tourist attraction for a museum down the line.
Despite the state of this room bringing tears to my eyes, I left it behind, Hana and Shia accompanying me into the square. Maybe my ‘everything-must-go’ plan could bring us enough to start Project Highway, but my optimism had already been dashed once. There were other things to consider, too.
Our mining operations used Movement mages. Their power, being akin to psychokinesis, would be incredibly useful in any kind of construction project. Plus, if they could dig mines, they could tunnel through the mountains, and that would open up a glut of trade options.
Our trade with Kavsta was done with Zaleria as an intermediary. Naturally, they took tariffs, and apparently we hadn’t had actual diplomatic relations with the southern country in decades.
Well, foreign trade was almost non-existent, at this point, but I hoped we could grease the wheels by buying food. We’d have to sell at a lower price to reduce inflation, of course, but we could handle the deficit.
I hoped.
Those purchases, though completely necessary, would eat a good amount of the profits from selling the jewels. Hence my decision to check the treasury. As Hana, Shia, and I left the sad building, I idly wondered if any of those psychokinetics went eyeball pulling in their spare time.
It was a brighter thought than the others.
If we carried on the way we were, Project Highway would be a bust. We’d be unable to do anything but tread water, trying desperately not to haemorrhage both money and citizens. Far from being a superpower, we’d become more third-world than we already were.
We needed money. We needed it quickly, and I didn’t know what to do. Aside from national projects and trade, I couldn’t think of any decent solutions to get the gears of the economy turning.
Without a starting cache, we’d be stuck in wheelspin forever.
The weight of responsibility threatened to crush me flat as I sighed. Shia put a hand on my shoulder. Shying away, I eyed her oddly, and she gave a sympathetic smile.
“It’s okay,” she said, flicking her wrist and making the fountain take the shape of a bear. A few passersby goggled, but most remained in their stupor. Hunger did that to a person.
Hana had been bringing me meals, and I hadn’t asked where they came from. I’d been too preoccupied. But if we had anything spare, I was inclined to stand on my balcony and start tossing it at the population.
“It’s not,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Big ideas mean nothing if you can’t even get them started.”
“Perhaps inspiration will strike,” said Hana.
“Doubt it,” I said. A tumult of emotions swirled in my gut—rage at the System for dropping me here without so much as a ‘how do you do?’, and the previous King for ignoring his citizens to build a pointless statue in the plaza—
Wait.
I stared at the statue, and the lights came on in my head.
Pointing at it, I said, “That’s solid gold, right?”
“Indeed,” said Hana. “It has been reinforced with magic, and—”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “How much does it weigh?”
“Several tonnes, I’m sure.”
“I could perform the calculations!” Shia danced over to it, tripping over her foot and face-planting at its base. I sniggered, expecting a reaction, but no-one paid any attention.
They just continued their zombie-like shuffle.
Fuck it. These people needed more than food or money or infrastructure. They needed hope.
They needed what I hadn’t had until being sucked through a portal to another world. They needed to know that things could, and would, change.
“The Royal Arms had an axe in the set, right?”
Hana’s face lit up in realisation. As she sprinted back to the palace, Shia stood and regarded me with a smile.
“You’re a good person,” she said.
“You think so?” I mean, I liked to believe I at least tried, but what had I done so far to prove that to her? All I’d managed was a bunch of big plans with no tangible results. In the end, it was only words.
She said nothing, and time passed slowly between us until Hana returned, bearing a great-axe with a haft as long as my torso and a head as big as… well, my head. When I tried to lift it, my muscles screamed in protest.
Shaking her head, she took it back, lifting it effortlessly. I scowled. Fucking show-off.
Then, she handed me a smaller hatchet with a wicked edge.
I grinned at her, and she nodded.
We both lashed out at the statue’s feet, a colossal screech erupting as the pair of axes embedded themselves in it.
Shia altered the gravity of our tools so they’d strike the thing as if falling, but we still struggled to dent it. The protection was strong. Unfortunately for the statue, my will was stronger, and despite the sweat soaking my robes and the howls of my arms, I refused to give in.
For a while, me and Hana hammered away at it, barely inflicting a scratch. Then something strange happened.
A burly middle-aged man wandered over with a hatchet and started wordlessly hacking in time with us. Unlike the others, his eyes had fire in them, and the sickly pallor had been replaced by a sheen of glistening colour.
As time went on, more joined, until we had a veritable demolition crew smashing the thing with whatever was on hand. Hammers, knives, rolling pins. One enterprising elven woman brought a vial of acid, and I almost had a heart attack. My gold!
Luckily, she’d only brought enough to melt a pinkie toe.
With this much help, it was hard not to make progress. We managed to chop halfway through the legs when my two remaining palace guards arrived bearing rope and a horse. The poor creature looked starving, but so did everyone else, and they were all helping. My guards nodded at me before tying the rope around Theo’s neck—a symbolic gesture, I had to say—and prompting the horse to pull.
It struggled and strained, garnering my sympathy. I dropped my axe, my arms hanging limp and useless. Eventually, though, a tearing sound rang through the plaza, hell, probably the entire city, followed by a crash! as the statue clattered to the ground.
The citizens, previously silent, cheered and chattered, patting each other on the backs and punching lightly in their shoulders. I couldn’t help but grin. Hana allowed herself a tiny smirk before reverting to her usual Robotnik self.
After the initial afterglow, the assembled masses turned to me. I must have been a hell of a sight, in regal robes drenched to my skin, my blonde hair stuck to my head.
They stared at me in wonder, like I was fucking Jesus or something.
Oh, balls. I was going to have to say something, wasn’t I?
Hana nudged me. She was lucky I felt it, given my arms were almost numb, but I did, and I had to pay attention.
Clearing my throat, I faced the crowd. Cannara better have done her job. “Citizens of Larheim,” I began, scouring my brain for words. Was there someone I could rip off in this situation?
Probably not. In that case, random bullshit, go!
“Listen,” I said, “times have been hard, and everyone’s hungry. But I want you to look at this as a sign. The old regime, who only cared about their wealth and power, and not about your lives and problems, are dead! This statue’s fall is a benchmark, the start line we’ve drawn, here, today.
“Even if we’re caught deep in the trenches of destitution, we can rise again! Today begins a new era of hope. Of prosperity. Of a Larheim built not on the backs of your suffering, but standing on the shoulders of your greatness! We can build it. Together! It may be hard, and we will struggle, but at the end of that path is a light made brighter by your belief!
“So don’t let despair take hold. Tell everyone you know, mark your calendars, and remember where you were today.
“Because this is the day Larheim proved itself a phoenix—the day the ashes began to reform into something greater!”
I gasped and panted, my face flushing. There was a moment of pregnant silence. Then, a huge cheer broke out, applause overwhelming the chittering of twilight birds. Hana nodded in approval. I looked around, but Shia was nowhere to be seen.
That is, until she exited the palace gates holding a crown. It was gold, with rubies embedded in each of its points. My first thought was to sell it.
My second thought was of Hana cutting my head off, so I decided against it.
With a shaky smile, she handed it to Hana, who held it aloft and addressed the assembled.
“My people,” she said, projecting her voice like she’d been stage trained since infancy, “you know me. I am the Arbiter.” Gently, she placed the crown on my head. “And I declare this man, Oliver Marsden, as the new King of Larheim!”
The entire crowd burst into chants at once.
“Long live the King!”
My stomach fell to my feet. There went my clean break.
Still, if this was what adulation felt like, I could sure as shit get used to it.
