“You appear to be building yourself a fine court, sire,” said Duke Kalvin. “What a shame that somebody has just tried to cut off its head.”

The sun had barely risen, and I’d gathered my Council in the chamber. This included Captain Tomas, but he had more of a ‘speak when spoken to’ vibe, so I imagined he wouldn’t pipe up. Everyone was looking at me with expressions varying from worry to anger.

“His threat wasn’t idle,” said Konstantin. “They never are.”

“This is a clear act of aggression.” Duke Kalvin puffed his chest. “He has essentially declared war.”

My eyelids were heavy, and every nerve felt frayed, like I’d just gone twelve rounds with a mind flayer or some shit.

I wanted out. At least with an adventuring career, I’d know my life was on the line, rather than thinking I was safe in my bed when a knife plunged into my back. But I’d already begun this path, and the alternative was handing the throne to Aleister.

An image of my new friends, broken and lifeless, overtook my vision. That wasn’t going to happen.

“Look,” I said, “we all know it was him.”

“The timing’s too convenient to be a coincidence,” said Shia.

“Exactly.” I sighed, throwing my head back. “He wants us to know it was him. Because we can’t prove anything, and that means he can rub it in our faces.”

“Sire,” said Duke Kalvin, “with all due respect, all you require to declare war is his blatant disregard for your authority. I admire your stance, and your wish to avoid conflict; I share that wish. However, in this instance, I believe it unavoidable.”

“Maybe,” I replied. “But what about the people in Ribera? If we fight, how many innocents have to die because of Aleister’s greed and ambition? How strong would the Crown be, then, with the resentment of an entire duchy pointing towards it?”

To be honest, I just didn’t want that blood on my hands.

Konstantin smiled and nodded, clearly impressed. Next to me, Hana gripped the back of my throne until her knuckles turned white.

“Cannara,” I said, catching her attention, “I’m sorry, but I need you to go back to Ribera.”

Smirking, she gave a shallow bow. “Of course, Oliver. I’ll leave immediately.”

I allowed my lips to flicker upward. Unlike the rest of these stuffy idiots—like Duke Kalvin, who cast her a withering glare—Cannara had no problem referring to me by name. It was refreshing. She turned to leave, and I raised an eyebrow.

“I haven’t even told you what I want you to do,” I said.

Without turning back, she said, “You want me to spread rumours of Aleister’s lies to the commoners, no? Perhaps foment the seeds of a rebellion, or cause unrest within his court?”

Well, I guess a high Intelligence stat counted for something. It was as though I’d been able to telepathically communicate my intentions, which, now that I thought about it, sounded like an amazing Skill. I’d have to check out my new options later.

“While you’re at it,” I said, “would it be possible for you to see to the protection of Lord Verard’s family?”

The Treasurer gaped at me, apparently unsure whether to smile or cry.

“Who do you take me for?” said Cannara. “That’s barely even a challenge.” With that, she disappeared.

“Shia,” I said. She snapped rigid, making a constipated noise.

“Yes, sire?”

“Do you think you could work with the Army’s mages to create some kind of magical barrier on the border?”

“It’ll require a lot of manpower, but leave it to me!”

I turned to the General and my Guard Captain. “Duke Kalvin, I want as many troops as we can spare stationed at the border with Ribera. Make a show of it—I want him to know we’re there. Hopefully, a show of strength will put him off attacking us any time soon.”

“It shall be done, sire.” His expression held misgivings, but he kept them to himself.

“Captain Tomas, please increase the palace security. I don’t want another incident like last night.”

“Already done, sire,” said the guard. “I’ve doubled patrols and the amount of men at every entrance and exit.”

“Including the secret ones?” I hadn’t found any yet, but come on, it was a royal palace. Of course there were secret doors.

“The ones we know about,” said Tomas.

“All right then,” I said. “Dismissed.”

As they left, I focused on Hana, who hadn’t said a word. She was still gripping my throne, a slight quiver in her bearing.

“Hana?” I said. “What’s wrong?”

“I believe you should listen to Duke Kalvin,” she replied, her tone uneven. “Duke Ribera represents a colossal threat, and he must be dealt with quickly.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” I replied, confused.

“You do not understand.” Stepping away, she clenched her fist. “This kingdom cannot withstand any more turmoil. Even if there must be sacrifices, they will pale in comparison to the consequences of him deposing you.”

“It’s the citizens you’re talking about sacrificing!” I glowered at her, my nose wrinkled. She said it was for the kingdom, but I knew better. People were selfish. There was no ‘greater good’ in drenching the nation in blood; her desire for escalation was personal, and I wouldn’t let anyone die for it.

Her face scrunched, and she bit her lip. This was probably the most emotion I’d ever seen from her, and it drove a spike through my heart.

“Look,” I said, softening my tone, “it’s those citizens who are the building blocks of a nation. You could replace me with any half-competent, half-decent noble and nothing would really change. The country would still recover.

“But without the people, it’s nothing.”

“Those people are already dying,” she said, “because of me.”

I halted, the words fleeing my brain. How had she come to that conclusion? “What… do you mean?”

With downcast eyes, she said, “The Arbiter was created by Larheim’s first King when he worried of the priorities of his sons. Our duty is to ensure the crown is never held by an unworthy ruler, by any means necessary. When I was young, my mother drilled that lesson into me.

“She told me that people were inherently good, but some souls cannot be saved. I was only thirteen when she died, almost a decade ago, and I still refused to believe her. ‘Everybody is capable of salvation’, I thought, and allowed King Theo’s indiscretions regardless of severity.

“Each time, I convinced myself that it was a mistake, and that he could get better, that he would even try. I advised him, and he pretended to listen. My youth made me foolish, and now the entire country is paying the price.

“Though I corrected my error in the end, the damage was already done. My hands are already covered in the blood of thousands who perished due to his negligence and hedonism.” She screwed her eyes shut. “Due to my selfishness.”

I chastised myself for my self-righteousness. Without considering her perspective, I’d mentally condemned her for thoughts and feelings born of suffering. I’d whined to myself about my burden, my responsibility, when she’d carried a weight so heavy it could have crushed a planet, and kept her back straight. She was inspirational.

I was just an idiot.

“It’s not a crime to believe in people,” I said. “You were a kid. It’s not your fault.”

She scoffed. I don’t think she believed me. Yeah, maybe she’d let the old King live and abuse his position, but her reasons had been pure and good. Besides, she wasn’t the one who led the country to ruin.

He was.

As far as I was concerned, her hands were clean. Clearly, she didn’t agree.

“I had one duty,” she said, “and I failed it. I disappointed my mother, the kingdom, and myself. An Arbiter is not allowed to be a child.”

I took a moment to process my shock. Medieval-level politics or not, everyone deserved to have a childhood. To be innocent and naive, to explore the world with unfettered curiosity, every discovery a delight.

Take it from someone who never had that.

It looked like she was holding back tears, and a bitter taste flooded my tongue.

“Imagine how lucky I felt when we summoned you,” she continued. “Already, I can see your honour, nobility, and intelligence, and it is my duty to protect you.

“I will fulfil it by any means necessary.”

A warm fuzz took root in my chest. “Thank you, Hana, really. I’m glad to have you by my side.”

She sniffled, her gaze shining as it met mine. “If it is you, then perhaps…” — she sighed wistfully — “we will arrive in a Larheim that has no more need of the Arbiter.”

“Do you trust me?” I said. “Do you still think you made the right choice?”

“Of course.”

“Then stop worrying so much.” I stepped over, placing a hand on her shoulder. Given that she was several inches taller than me, it must have looked quite comical. “I’ll turn our turmoil into a tide of change, my way, and give you that Larheim you’re after. Just have faith, okay?”

She laid her own hand on mine, meeting my eyes. Her gaze was almost hypnotic.

“Thank you,” she said. “I shall.”

All my desire to abandon my position dispersed. Without realising, I’d started to build more than a country. I’d been slowly building the one thing I’d never had, that I craved more than anything else.

Our bonds were still young and fragile. But they’d grow, and I wouldn’t let anything get in the way.

Fuck Aleister and his assassins. I’d help Cannara redeem herself. I’d help Shia and Duke Kalvin work out their issues. I’d make sure Hana didn’t have to suffer for believing in people, and give her a world where the Arbiter wasn’t necessary.

And I’d save the damn kingdom while I was at it.