The murmurs of approval and joy had barely settled over the staggering revenue figures when the atmosphere in the council chamber shifted to the cold reality of statecraft.

"A beautiful ballad, to be sure," Jasmine noted, her elegant fingers idly tracing the polished grain of the wood beneath her hand. "But minstrels only sing of the coin we have already gathered. And as much as a surplus of twenty thousand silverii is always a sweet melody to hear, I fear every department in this palace is currently starving for those shiny coins. Some of them, in fact, are practically drooling as we speak."

She didn’t name the culprit aloud, but her gaze flickered with unmistakable intent across the table.

A moment later Jarza collected himself, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the heavy wood groaned beneath him, coughing into his fist to hide a sheepish grin.

Alpheo let his gaze drift across the expectant faces of his councilors, his thumb idly stroking the carved falcon on his armrest. He knew the quiet wouldn’t last they were like sharks eyeing a fat tuna, and unfortunately, those revenue figures were the last bit of easy, uplifting news he had to bring to the table today.

"The Queen speaks the truth," Alpheo said, his deep voice sliding smoothly across the mahogany table, drawing every eye back to the head of the board. "Differently from what the minstrels’ name may suggest, significantly more than a single penny found its way into our coffers. But by that same token, so did our current expenditures."

He leaned forward, grounding his palms on the table. "Our borders have expanded, and our administration must grow alongside them unless we wish to watch it fracture under the weight of these new lands. I am well aware that every one of you has a petition tucked neatly into your sleeve. Before we open that floor, however, if nothing else than for memory’s sake, if you would all turn the page?"

The sharp rustle of parchment whistled through the chilly room as the councilors obeyed.

"Last year, with an expected balance of 205,000 silverii, we composed our operating budget," Alpheo began, collecting himself with a dry cough as he let the raw numbers fly. "To the military went the lion’s share of the cake: forty-six percent of the yearly revenue, summing to a grand total of 95,000 silverii."

He paused, he would have liked to slim the military a bit but that was a box he could not let open. he instead he let his eyes drift to the next line. "Second went to court expenditures, claiming twenty-four percent, or 50,000 silverii in raw numbers."

If he had his choice, that was the singular budget he would have loved to ruthlessly slim down. But one does not simply strip the fat from the court without inviting a domestic war; he could already picture the outrage from his dear wife and his proud in-laws. Most of that small fortune was devoured by grand feasts, thrown twice a year for the holy festivities, complete with exotic southern delicacies and imported spiced wines from the sand. Worse still, a staggering portion of it went directly to the Queen’s pet projects, all that good coin wasted on vain poets and wandering singers, money that could have been forged into spearheads or bought horses.

"Finally," Alpheo continued, tapping the ledger, "28,000 of that total had been assigned to our infrastructure efforts."

If he truly had his way, he would have doubled that number in a heartbeat and sliced the court’s vanity fund in half. But the peaceful, contented life he currently enjoyed in his own halls and bed was achieved entirely through a delicate political balance, so he had reluctantly relinquished the point. Yet, of the three major sectors, the infrastructure budget was the one that boasted the most magnificent, tangible achievements. It provided the regular, vital upkeep for the great highway of the Magna Strata, and it had seen watermills and windmills sprouting across the crown lands like mushrooms after a heavy rain.

Strangely, despite its utility, it was also the most mocked and neglected budget at the table. That was the natural order of things in a court like theirs; while the Military had the roaring support of all the battle-hardened legates, and the Court had the fierce backing of Jasmine and Shahab, the infrastructure faction consisted entirely of old Pontus, alongside whatever subtle, desperate help Alpheo could afford to feed him from the shadows.

"And of course, lastly," Alpheo concluded, "a reserve fund of 35,000 silverii had been set aside. A reserve that, as you all well know, is now mostly depleted from the ever-increasing costs of maintaining the dead, conquered carcass of our new southern territories."

He closed the ledger with a soft, definitive snap, his dark eyes sweeping the length of the table. "Still. New year, new money. Let us see how we carve the new budget.So, let us begin the butchery. Who wishes to claim the first bite?"

Before the King could even finish his breath, Jarza took the lead once more.

"The legions claim it," Jarza said, his voice booming off the stone rafters even though his tone remained remarkably calm. He jabbed a thick, calloused finger directly into the center of the budget sheets. "Not for wants and whims, Alpheo,but need. You want to keep those grand southern highways safe for your precious, fat merchants? You want the Regalia Ordinum to keep multiplying? Then we need silver for that, especially after this bloody war of ours. We got gutted, Alph. We lost nearly forty percent of our forces between the dead and the crippled."

The massive legate leaned over the table, the veneer of his professional composure fraying just a fraction. "We have, by our very latest count, 494 raw recruits currently sitting in the muddy training camps. If you add Ratto’s fresh riders, that’s 594. Every single one of those boys needs food, leather boots, winter cloaks, and a mountain of other shit,all of it exceptionally costly on the current market. I’ll spare you the expense of the armory and weaponry; the vanguard iron-smiths can produce that ourselves."

"Thank the gods for small mercies," Jasmine muttered under her breath, a faint, graceful sarcasm touching her lips. "You are like a well without an end, Jarza. It is a relief to know you don’t want the stones along with the mountain."

"Well, Your Majesty, I wouldn’t say it’s an overreach to claim that we are the only thing keeping this state afloat in the first place," Asag spoke up, his tone perfectly calm and measured, as it always was. There were very few occasions when Asag lost his cool, and when he did, he always ensured the entire room felt the strike.

"No insult was meant," Jasmine replied smoothly, waving an elegant, rings-laden hand as a pacifying sign. "It was merely a small note, Legate. I am well aware of your supreme importance. We are about four legions away from a total collapse, I’d think."

Alpheo watched her closely. He did not know whether his wife was saying it with genuine concern or sharp aristocratic scorn, and frankly, he had absolutely no desire to make that distinction at a budget table.

"I am acutely aware of all of that, Jarza. I was there, remember?" Alpheo said, his right ear burning with a sudden, ghost-like ache, as if the tip had been pinched by a red-hot iron. He would always remember that field, to be sure. "Unfortunately, the only good grace I can afford to give the military this year is a promise not to lower your current budget."

Jarza’s wide eyes snapped open, staring at his king as if Alpheo had just slapped him across the face with a raw carrot. "Why? Aren’t our actual revenues significantly more than we originally planned for?"

To his credit, the big man took the blow more calmly than Alpheo had anticipated.

"Our revenues are up, yes, but just like our expenditures, I fear," Alpheo countered dryly. And the latter were rapidly eclipsing the former. "If I recall your ledgers correctly, you ended this fiscal year with a positive balance of some 6,000 silverii, did you not?"

"Aye? What of it?"

"Then I am entirely certain you can find a few corners to cut within your own camps to stretch that coin and deal with the new recruits," Alpheo said, letting out a heavy sigh. "I want to give you more, Jarza,truly I do, but I am already standing here with holes in my hands. My immediate priority is to try and not punch more holes in the treasury. Which brings us directly to the most uncomfortable crux of the entire matter."

The King turned his gaze away from his military commanders, his dark eyes settling firmly upon his wife and his grandfather-in-law.

"I can grant the court a total budget of 65,000 silverii," Alpheo declared, anchoring his hands on the table. "Use that sum as you wish for the grand festivities that shall surround the upcoming coronation."

Jasmine’s expression hardened into a mask of pure, royal disbelief. "A mere fifteen thousand extra to organize a royal coronation and a week of celebrations, dear?"

"65,000," Alpheo repeated, his voice dropping into an iron register that brooked no argument. "Cut down on your budget for vanity poets or the scented wax for the candles if you find yourself wishing for more. Use the silver as you think best, but we have far more hurrying, blood-soaked costs than a party. Surely, you can try to make the arrangements... more affordable and less extraordinary?"

"Extraordinary should be the only word a coronation is called, dear," Jasmine chided, her fingers tapping a restless rhythm against her ledger. "I was already treating with some exotic Azanian traders to secure some beasts for the grand procession. I was thinking of an elephant, perhaps, or a magnificent giraffe to awe the foreign dignitaries.Do you really not want a giraffe?We could have it wear a wooden crown....the people would love that. Do you reall not want to see a giraffe with a crown too?"

No.

Alpheo offered a flat, thoroughly unimpressed stare. "Well, I fear none of that shall be happening. Take falcons. That is your house animal, is it not?"

"Falcons are mostly common, dear," she murmured, wrinkling her nose like a rabbit.

"The legions are not,there is only one of them" Alpheo countered casting a brief glance back toward Jarza and Asag. "The sight of three full legions on foot , and two on horse in flawless formation marching through the high town will be more than enough to awe the foreign guests , noble lords and the smallfolk alike. I am already pushing the crown’s coin as far as it can possibly stretch, Jasmine.But there is only so much I can do. You all need to start meeting me on my side of the ledger.I can’t be the only one building the road."

The Queen closed her eyes for a single, tense moment, letting out a long, defeated sigh. "We will do what we can with the silver provided."

It was something. Probably not nearly enough to soothe her pride, Alpheo reasoned as he prepared to turn the page, but still, was it not something?He hoped there would be something like that from the other parts of the day’s matter too, on that account.Though he knew that would be a far-fetched wish...