With the gold for the coronation and its accompanying revelries strictly partitioned, only the final business of the morning remained to be directed. Well, two final items, technically, after all, there was still the shadow budget for Lucius.

Not that he would discuss it with the others.

That sum was kept an absolute secret from everyone else in the council, as it was a dark matter that only the King himself could decide upon.

As for why the Carrion Raven did not possess a grand, high-backed seat within this chamber, it was simply because Alpheo preferred to deal with his spymaster entirely alone. If a rot was uncovered in the realm, he, and he alone, would decide whether to reveal it to the others or quietly excise it by his own hand.

Now, it wasn’t a matter of loyalty; Alpheo trusted almost every man at this table unconditionally with his very life if the need arose. They had all proven themselves worthy of that trust ten times over in the mud and the blood, or in life.

Except Pontus, of course.He strictly kept him because he was useful.

But while he trusted their loyalty, he did not trust their judgment. Most of his legates and kin were far too emotional, driven by pride, anger, or previous slights, completely incapable of stepping back to see the grand, sweeping tapestry of the bigger picture. And so was his wife and her grandfather

When he had revealed is wish to make peace with Sharjaan to deal with Oizen , a many deal of them had been opposed to it.

Had he listened to them, he would have fought a battle that could entirely be avoided for nothing but revenge’ssake. And of course at war’s hand holding very little to show for all the bloodshed.

For such and many other instances, there were a great many times when Alpheo held critical information that his council simply did not need to know, nor had they any practical need to comprehend his own personal designs. All those who truly needed to understand the grand strategy of Yarzat amounted to exactly two people, and currently, only one of them was sitting in this room.

"Continuing with the allocation of our wealth," Alpheo announced, his voice snapping the room back to attention as he turned the page of his ledger, "in light of our heavy, expected expenditures, we will be forced to cut down on the emergency reserve funds, reducing them from 35,000 silverii to fifteen thousand."

A collective murmur passed through the table, but Alpheo raised a hand before the objections could form. "With the heavy fighting firmly behind us and the necessary funding for the sustenance of the Oizenian refugee camps finally settled, we have a desperate need to cut the fat where it is not strictly required. I do not, hopefully, foresee any other cataclysmic emergency that would require our immediate, costly attention."

Inwardly, the King crossed his fingers at the statement. Mathematically and logically speaking, there should be no grand surprises on the horizon. The principalities of Oizen, Habadia, and Sharjaan were thoroughly bled out of the war. The only lingering problem lay further north in Kakunia, but Alpheo had already personally informed his ally, Merelao, of Yarzat’s current tight economic state.

The graceful lord had been most understanding and forthcoming; when the summer thaws finally arrived, Merelao would receive a few allied units to bolster his upcoming campaign, though nothing close to the overwhelming numbers Yarzat had stationed on the frontier during the height of the war.

Of course, to secure that reprieve, Alpheo had been forced to promise himself that the kingdom would outdo its promise the following year. Yet, he held very little fear of that goal. Soon, the freshly established royal olive groves and wineries would begin to soar, and likewise, the number of wealthy merchants eagerly adhering to the Regalia Ordinum would only multiply. Besides, he had two or three other grand economic projects tucked away in his mind that he would soon employ and fund.

With that settled, the King turned his dark eyes down the length of the table, his gaze landing squarely on the heavily bundled form of Pontus.

The old architect stiffened instantly. "Your Majesty?" he asked, a distinct, nervous trembling entering his voice. Looking at the ledger, the old man clearly feared that his beloved building projects were about to suffer the exact same gutting as the emergency reserve funds.

He did not need to worry about that, however. On the contrary.

"Last year’s budget assigned to the Infrastructure Bureau was 28,000 silverii, correct?" Alpheo asked.

"Aye, Your Majesty," Pontus said quickly, nervously scratching the crown of his head. "And if I may be so bold as to state, the current coin is barely enough to keep up with the grueling yearly quotas you have personally assigned to our builders. To say nothing of the fact that many of the critical wooden bridges spanning the Lampianis, the Allendino, and the Zauern rivers are currently rotting with thick mold. They are at immediate risk of collapsing into the torrent at one moment or another."

Jasmine narrowed her eyes, leaning forward slightly as she pinned the architect with a sharp gaze. "And what exactly have you and your builders been doing for the last twelve months, ser?"

Pontus was exceedingly careful to let absolutely nothing but pure, unadulterated servility echo in his tone. If nothing else, the old builder had finally learned to tone down his stubborn, artistic words when dealing with the royal family members who actually signed the ledgers for his works and provided the coin.

"Your Majesty," Pontus explained, bowing his head slightly toward the Queen, "the entirety of the coin I possessed was completely used up just to reinforce the run-down bridges we already have, to systematically survey the great highway of the Magna Strata, and to construct new watermills and windmills near the frontier villages. Especially the latter, I must note, required a truly monumental amount of labor and transport. There is simply only so much my men can achieve with the time , and silver , given. Besides, with the onset of the war, a vast number of our finest master engineers were forcibly enlisted to serve the legions."

That last part, at the very least, was entirely true. Alpheo had drafted a great deal of the realm’s builders into the Bastion, sending them to the front lines primarily to oversee anti-mining and tunneling operations. The King had deeply worried that the enemy would attempt to undermine his walls, just as he had done at the Fingers..

In the end, he had stressed over nothing; the enemy never even tried it.But better prepared than sorry.

"Peace,both of you," Alpheo murmured softly, a single wave of his hand instantly quieting both Pontus’ frantic worries and Jasmine’s inquisitive gaze. "I am remarkably well aware of the scale of your work, Pontus, and I have been most satisfied with the results. I assure you, you have absolutely no need to worry about your infrastructure budget being reduced this winter. After all, the great roads and bridges are the very veins that carry the lifeblood of this entire state, eh?"

Alpheo watched him with a content, steady smile. He only hoped the old man would remain just as remarkably happy when he heard the next part of the plan.

"And in light of all these vital achievements," Alpheo declared, his deep voice carrying clearly across the room, "I am planning to increase your operational infrastructure budget from 28,000 to 40,000 silverii."

That sudden declaration brought an instant, breathless giddiness to the old architect, and an equally immediate wave of profound displeasure to the rest of the table. For once, both the Court and the Military factions of the council were in absolute, grim alignment, their collective eyebrows snapping down in silent outrage at the massive sum being handed over to the master of brick and mortar.

The King continued smoothly, cutting off the room before anyone could voice their mounting grumblings aloud. "I will be in need of a truly major, unprecedented effort down in Oizen. As much as that conquered land is currently overflowing with murderous bandits, it is also completely wrecked in terms of infrastructure. During the fighting, almost all the major grain mills were burnt to the ground, and likewise with the river bridges.’’ They were of course happy enough to see those go up in flames when they belonged to the enemy, but now the land was theirs, and theirs was to deal with the ashes ’’ If the resettlement issue my son is leading is to proceed with any hope of success, I will be in need of more mills and sturdy crossings than we ever had before."

Alpheo leaned forward, his dark eyes sweeping over Jarza and Asag. "The reason why Yarzat’s mainland remains entirely free of desperate outlaws isn’t just because of the sharp spears of our legions. It is mostly due to our deliberate, grueling efforts in stabilizing food production and creating safe local markets for the villages to sell their crops. Couple economic security with military presence, and you won’t find many reasons why a common man wouldn’t deign to live an easy, honest life instead of one lived with a blade, constantly freezing and on the run in the woods. Especially considering that those same unlucky outlaws who choose the brush can often be heard weeping as they die, raw-nailed to the trees along our highways."

"Your Majesty is entirely right!" Pontus agreed, bobbing his head so frantically his double wool cloaks shifted around his neck. "Instead of merely treating the bloody symptoms, one must ruthlessly cure the underlying cause! Your Majesty can trust the bureau implicitly with that!" the architect solemnly declared, thoroughly giddy at the spectacular increase in funds and sounding, for a rare moment, surprisingly wise.

"I expect nothing short of a masterpiece of engineering from you," Alpheo murmured, his smile turning slow and sharp. "After all, you will be traveling down there to oversee the foundations yourself."

That single sentence killed the triumphant smile right off the Romelian’s face. His jaw went slack, and the color drained from his eagle-beak nose. "Wh—I mean, what exactly does Your Majesty intend by that?"

"You will be going there yourself, Pontus," Alpheo repeated, his tone entirely conversational yet unyielding. "You will be personally trusted with a highly special, monumental work from the crown that will desperately require your exact attention and your legendary architectural skills."

"If... if it is purely a matter of technical skill, Your Grace," Pontus attempted, stumbling over his words, his eyes darting frantically toward the door as he sought a plain escape, "my eldest pupil would be more than happy to take my part in the mud! It is... it is always good to teach the younger generation the heavy realities of the field, is it not?"

"You may teach the boy at your own leisure, ser, but not with a state project that explicitly requires your personal genius," Alpheo countered, cutting the excuse down instantly. "I am neither deaf to your complaints nor blind to your fears. You need not lose sleep over the outlaws, Pontus. I shall personally trust you with a most skilled, heavily armored retinue of guards to watch your tents, among them, men chosen directly from my own royal ranks with their only task to oversee your safety."

Pontus swallowed hard, his hands wringing together beneath his thick sleeves. The prospect of leaving the comfortable, heated stone of the capital for the rain-slicked, blood-drenched hills of a newly conquered principality clearly terrified his bones.

"Your Grace, I am deeply honored, truly," Pontus stammered, attempting a second desperate refusal. "But my joints... the winter damp in the south is notoriously brutal on old bones, and I fear my presence might actually slow the construction crews down. If I were to remain here in the capital, drafting the grand blueprints from my warm study—"

"Pontus," Alpheo interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, the sudden, freezing weight of kingly authority instantly chilling he room. The casual smile vanished from the tyrant’s face. "Are you truly sitting at my council table preparing to deny a king’s direct, personal request for a third consecutive time?"

The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush a man.

"You may certainly wish to do so, of course," Alpheo continued softly, leaning back into his high throne, his dark eyes pinning the sweating architect to his seat. "And with that refusal, you may likewise gladly relinquish your high position, and your budget to someone far more eager for the crown’s favor. I shall find another builder by nightfall. But I reiterate to you now: this specific work needs to be supervised directly by you, and no other."

Pontus froze, the reality of the trap closing tight around his neck. He looked at the vast mountain of coin promised to him, looked into the unblinking, dangerous eyes of his king, and quickly understood that the matter was entirely finished.

He had no bargaining power.

Relinquishing all remaining resistance to the King, the architect let out a long, trembling breath and bowed his head low over the table. "I... I understand completely, Your Majesty. Your will is my absolute decree. I shall pack my instruments and depart for Oizen with the first vanguard supply train."

Alpheo’s warm, content smile returned as instantly as it had vanished, the sudden storm in the room dissipating into thin air. He offered a light, dismissive wave of his hand.

"Excellent, but there is no need for such hurry, take your time and depart at your leasure. Do not worry, all is well between us," the King said cheerfully, gathering the heavy stack of finalized parchments and handing them back to Aron, pointing at the last three. Aron nodded and went handing it out to the architect. "And with that final matter settled, our grueling work for the morning is officially done."

He rose from the head of the table, prompting the rest of the council to stand too. Alpheo paused, casting one final, encouraging glance across the faces of his kin, goodkin and commanders.

"Take heart, my friends," the King added, a proud, calculating glint in his eye as he looked toward the future. "Work hard this winter. Next year’s budget will likely increase to a sum that will make this year’s surplus look like common pocket change. The crown’s total revenue is projected to soar remarkably high very soon, and when the silver flows, we shall all taste the sweetness of it. Go, eat, and prepare your funds as you wish. Good times are ahead!"