Solvere massaged the base of his right thumb, frowning at the stacks of paperwork on the desk before him. He had arrived at Scalebound Keep shortly after dawn and set straight to work in his office, yet felt no closer to finishing than when he had begun. A lesser man would no doubt have crumbled beneath the pressure by now.

  But I am no lesser man. I am the one to lift Emberthain up.

  He grabbed the next report from the pile, this one titled Drakeship Incident. He flipped through the pages with one hand, tracing the lines with a finger so he wouldn’t lose his place.

  “No evidence of sabotage upon further inspection,” he spoke the words aloud to fill the silence. “The aetheric core remained intact, though stress fractures were discovered along the containment lattice. Aetheric anomalies were present. Interviews with Engineer Rekar indicate abnormal acceleration in the lattice rings prior to the fracture. In separate interviews, her subordinates corroborate the statements.”

  He turned another page. The final third of the report detailed technical specifications and the production chain. He skimmed through these documents.

  Engine Core: Type IV Drakeheart…

  …Lattice Assembly: Imperial Pattern 3…

  …Manufactured at Industrial District Machining #3, Port District Steelworks #1…

  No anomalies were noted. It seemed the Mountainfolk had been honest from the beginning. He frowned softly and turned to the final page. He reached for his pen and wrote in the space below the investigator’s signature.

  Reinstate Engineer Rekar. Six months’ compensation for the inquiry.

  He paused, pen hovering over the paper, before he added a second note beneath his first.

  Offer twelve months’ compensation and relocation to the Eastern Bridges project if she refuses the initial offer.

  His empire needed brilliant minds more than scapegoats, and mercy often bought loyalty more readily than fear.

  The drakeshard clock ticked faintly from across the room. He glanced at it briefly.

  The councilors would arrive soon.

  He pulled a thinner report off the stack and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he read.

  “Dockmaster Stonemoor accused of redirecting military supplies to private buyers. Shipment, purchase, and sales logs are inconsistent under cross-review but show no significant anomalies. Stonemoor contends innocence; several employees contradict him.”

  Solvere read the report and the attached testimony twice. He tapped his pen against the paper, considering. Finally, he wrote his note:

  Send a small contingent of the Unified Defense Force - no more than four, at least two aligned with the Drakesworn.

  Now he was out of time. He rose from his chair and carefully straightened the piles of paperwork. He stepped from behind the desk and paused before a hanging mirror. He adjusted his collar, then the cuffs of his sleeves. From his pocket he produced a small cloth and wiped a faint smear of ink from his forehead.

  Only when he was satisfied did he leave the office and step into the larger council chamber beyond. He approached the head of the table and stood beside his chair, hands clasped neatly behind his back. The door opened, and he smiled.

  Plan each moment. Control each moment. Then the rot that has gripped this empire for ages can finally be cut away.

  Alenor Ironen, the Grand Duke of the Heartlands and Low Peaks, entered first. He waddled toward the nearest seat, breathing heavily. As he settled onto his chair, it groaned in protest. He dabbed at the sweat that covered his brow and Solvere fought the urge to sneer in disgust.

  Most powerful man in the nation, if he had even a hint of conviction and discipline about him.

  Thorley Oakfield, Margrave of the Boglands and Riverlands, entered next - a stern looking man who Solvere wasn’t convinced could smile. He gave the briefest of nods as he sat.

  Archmage Maror Ravengate and Archbishop Thane Hollow entered together, speaking in hushed tones. Maror was the taller of the two, rail-thin and sporting a pair of glasses whose lenses were thick as his thumb. Thane was a portly old man who was never spotted dressed in anything other than his holy regalia.

  Neither should be underestimated.

  High Commander Marrec entered shortly after, pausing just past the threshold to give Solvere a crisp salute. He was the quickest to his seat.

  Marrec was followed by the Grand Mayors of the Glittering City and the Great Walled City - Dorana Wolf and Alarton Ashwood, respectively. Dorana Wolf lived up to her name, while Alarton carried himself like the former commander he was.

  The Trade Commissioner, Harbormaster-General, and Guild Speaker entered shoulder-to-shoulder mid-argument about some combination of tariffs, trade routes, and guild cuts.

  Better they bicker amongst themselves than with me. I’m sure I can use that.

  The last elected official to enter was Elathera Nightvale, an elf who had been a diplomat for nearly as long as Solvere had been alive. She was his most powerful ally when they were aligned - and the exact opposite when they weren’t.

  “We’re missing one.” Alenor said.

  “Give her a moment,” Solvere countered, with a forced smile.

  The sound of panicked footsteps pounding down the hallway soon followed. A young, frazzled woman burst into the room a moment later, offering breathless apologies as she did.

  “High Treasurer Thora Calon. Please, be seated.” Solvere said kindly.

  Her cheeks burned bright red as she nodded and sat. She was easily the youngest on the council - but the one Solvere was most excited to work with.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Solvere waited until the last chair scraped into place before he sat. He leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. His gaze swept across the council.

  “There is much to decide.”

  He let the words hang in the air for a moment before he continued.

  “For too long has the foundation of the empire been pillaged for the benefit of the grandest of spires. I mean this both literally and figuratively. The poorest parts of our Districts rot so that the richest may expand. The poorest of our population suffer so that the richest never need to.”

  His gaze again swept across the council as he spoke, though he focused on the Grand Duke and Margrave in particular.

  “If we continue to steal from the foundation for too long, the entire thing collapses upon itself. We are not far from such a disaster. We must take drastic measures. We repair the foundation of our population: wages, unemployment relief, food, shelter, education. Once stabilized, we begin actual infrastructure projects.”

  Grand Duke Ironen had frowned midway through Solvere’s proposal. Grand Mayor Wolf listened with a look of guarded optimism. Solvere waited and let the words settle into the council’s thoughts.

  If I give them too much at once, they try to get clever.

  “Lofty goals, but I am sure the High Treasurer - even so inexperienced as she must be - has already warned you the State’s pockets do not run so deep.” Ironen was the first to speak.

  Wolf was the second.

  “And I’m sure she’s also proposed a way that the State may deepen its pockets.”

  “You are both correct.” Solvere smiled, “We will institute a new progressive tax. It will affect the nobility of all ranks, and certain high-earning elected officials. The economic return will return that prosperity in time.”

  “Why- ” Ironen stammered, face darkening to a mottled shade of ugly red, “The nobles will revolt! Why, they already donate a great deal of their wealth to the arts and other civic projects.”

  “Aye, and how much of that makes it to the regular folk?” Wolf challenged, with a soft slap of her hand against the table, “Let ‘em revolt. I’ve seen my city’s streets. I’ve seen the worst parts of the Residential District. These people outnumber the nobles ten-to-one, and I’ll only be too happy to tell ‘em the nobility refused to give up an ounce of comfort to help ‘em.”

  Solvere's smile widened. Grand Mayor Ashwood nodded along as she spoke. Margrave Oakfield’s expression was unreadable, but he didn’t seem eager to come to Ironen’s aid. Diplomat Nightvale looked like she appreciated the obvious - but effective - effort to pit the pair against each other.

  “This is nothing more than a grab for our wealth and power,” Ironen said, trying to pivot to a different argument.

  “Grand Duke, I would remind you that this will need to be voted upon by this very council,” Solvere responded pleasantly, with a motion of his hand to signal that vote be called immediately.

  Nine hands raised. The Grand Duke, Archmage, and the Harbormaster-General were not among them.

  “It seems someone has forgotten whose money got him elected.” Ironen scoffed.

  “And it seems you have forgotten what I campaigned upon, Grand Duke. I would advise you to mind your tongue. Let us next discuss our registration efforts.”

  “We are approaching the end of the initial trial period of the registration system,” Archmage Ravengate jumped at the opportunity to speak, “I certainly do not mind it in principle, but I think that tracking and classifying magic users specifically is dangerous and beyond the scope of what –”

  “Unregistered mages and magic users are a danger to themselves and others,” Marrec cut in firmly. “And beyond that, carving out an exception for magic users alone is unfair to the rest.”

  “Oh, but the extra paperwork for anyone not deemed human enough isn’t unfair?” Diplomat Nightvale scoffed.

  Solvere watched the rest of the table as they spoke. Nightvale’s arguments seemed to get the strongest reactions - nods of agreement, small attempts to cut in. It took only a minute or so before the arguments became repetitive.

  I have seen all I need.

  He raised his hand and the council soon fell silent. He tapped his fingers against the table, pretending to consider.

  “We continue registrations. Extend the review period another sixty days. Mages and magic-users are not exempt - safety and order is our primary concern. Diplomat Nightvale, you will form a small council of no more than five to review the application criteria. We want the process to be useful, not arbitrary. You will have thirty days to make recommendations.”

  He paused there and waited for questions. When none came, he motioned for them to vote. Six hands in favor. Six against. He’d anticipated the Archmage and Archbishop to be opposed, as well as Nightvale, Wolf, and the Guild Speaker. It was Ironen that surprised him.

  Spiteful bastard, but spite alone isn’t enough.

  “I cast the tie-breaking vote in favor of extending the registration policies, with the caveats outlined. There will be no interruption to operations. Updated registration packages will be disseminated upon approval. High Commander, be sure that the Unified Defense Forces coordinate with the magistrates more closely this phase.”

  “I hardly think that’s necessary,” Ravengate frowned deeply as he spoke. “We are perfectly capable of handling the registrations as we have for the past month.”

  “You have stated you feel the registration of mages and magic users is ‘beyond the scope’, Archmage,” Solvere responded. “While I do not doubt your team’s capabilities, nor your loyalty to Emberthain, I would be remiss if I did not take precautions.”

  “We will not send soldiers to make your jobs more difficult,” Marrec added with a reassuring smile, “Only to make sure that things run smoothly, and to capture bad actors - on either side of the table - should they exist.”

  “No vote is necessary,” Solvere finished, before Ravengate could protest further. “We all require checks and balances. Thank you all for your attendance and participation.”

  The council chamber slowly emptied as chairs scraped across stone and quiet conversations began. Solvere stood and returned to his office as they left, keen on wrapping up a few more reports before dinner.

  “You handled them well,” Archbishop Hollow said from behind him.

  “There is little to handle when they work so well together,” Solvere replied as he seated himself behind his desk again. “Why do you linger, Flamefather?”

  “Ah, Flamefather!” Hollow laughed heartily, “I haven’t been called that in decades. It was always my favorite title. Ah, but, you’ve distracted me, First Elect. I wanted to offer some guidance, not fit for formal discussion.”

  The old man shuffled further into the room and finally stopped beside Solvere’s desk.

  “Policies are important. Enforcement equally so. But there is nothing more powerful than faith. Give the people something to believe in, and they will follow you to the hells’ and back.”

  Hollow reached out, patted the back of Solvere’s hand kindly.

  “You are closer than you may already know. There are many passages in our texts that could be… interpreted favorably. ‘When we face our darkest hour, the Flame will raise a hand to restore order.’ Your victory has already been a spark.”

  An interesting interpretation for certain - but what would his price be?

  Hollow pulled back and shuffled his way back to the door. He spared a glance over his shoulder, and offered a serene smile. “Do not work yourself to death, Solvere. You would do us no good then.”

  “I will consider your counsel, Flamefather. Be well, and may your path be ever illuminated by fire.”

  The Archbishop laughed heartily, tickled once more by the old title. Solvere listened to his dragging footsteps grow fainter, then heard the door shut. He waited a few more breaths to make sure he was well and truly alone.

  They are too afraid to wield the flames to cauterize the Empire’s wounds, he thought to himself, reframing the earlier thoughts of rot in light of the Archbishop’s words. He pulled another report off the pile. Luckily for us all - I am not.

  “Preliminary census review indicates irregularities among several recently issued registration papers. Investigators recommend a broader audit to identify potential illegitimate registrants.”

  He paused to read the synopsis again. The report was surprisingly thin - just a whisper of a larger problem lurking beneath the surface. He tapped his pen against his desk.

  How very interesting.