First Sword of the King was a title that had not been used since the age of the first Lancephilian king. In practice, it placed Killian above any ordinary noble authority. It made him the leader of the king’s personal Knight order, and in times of crisis, it even allowed him to assume command over the kingdom’s armies. It was not a small honor. In many ways, it carried more weight than Francis’s position as Grand Chancellor, especially because Killian would now oversee every Enforcer in the kingdom. In terms of raw authority and martial power, he would stand above the Dukes themselves. Even Veridia, back when she had ruled as master of the Archine Tower, had never possessed such sweeping control.

  Killian soon rose from his knees and swore the same oaths as the others, binding himself to the kingdom, the church, the people, and the crown. When he stepped back into line, his gait was noticeably heavier. The title of Count sat on him like armor—fitting, but heavy with responsibility.

  After that, Kai continued without pause.

  One by one, he called forward the men and women who had stood with him from the very beginning. The Enforcers and Mages who had followed him through the chaos of the civil war—Gareth, Clement, Feroy, Bord, and Bran, along with the Mages Jacks, Klan, and Cansor—were each granted the title of Baron. They received small lands and high-ranking positions, either within the newly founded Enforcer Academy or inside the Sorcerer’s Tower. None of them spoke much as they accepted their titles, but the pride in their eyes was unmistakable.

  Then Kai’s gaze shifted to a man who had been standing awkwardly among the nobles the entire time.

  “Malden,” he called.

  The merchant nearly tripped over himself as he rushed forward, dropping to the ground so fast that his lips nearly touched the stone. Kai granted him the title of Baron as well, along with exclusive rights to oversee and manage the kingdom’s trade with the Ashari Desert.

  For a long moment, Malden looked as if he could not believe what he had just heard. When he finally returned to his place, he was practically bouncing on his feet, already whispering excitedly to nearby nobles—this time with the authority to do so.

  Kai continued handing out positions to a few more people who had contributed greatly, even if many of them had originally served under other nobles. He made sure their efforts did not go unnoticed. Still, there were some individuals for whom he could not grant a formal noble title.

  Claire was the first among them. Not because she lacked merit—far from it—but because Kai could not justify binding her to land and political duties. She had not fought in the war directly, and more importantly, she had already rejected a title when he brought it up the previous day. She had told him plainly that she had no interest in managing territory or dealing with other nobles. Her time was better spent elsewhere. Kai agreed with her. Even so, he had no intention of leaving her without influence. Claire already had extensive experience overseeing Veralt’s education initiatives, expanding them into the Sylvan Enclave, and organizing the search for potential Mages and Enforcers. Because of that, Kai had already decided she would be given a seat on the council once it was formally established.

  Balen and the alchemist Orion were much the same. Both of them rejected noble positions outright, uninterested in titles or land. All they wanted were greater budgets, better materials, and fewer restrictions so they could continue their work. Kai was more than happy to grant that. Their value to the kingdom far exceeded what any noble rank could offer.

  Then there were Ansel and several members of the Watchers. They, too, refused official titles. In their case, it was a matter of necessity rather than preference. They were spies, shadows that worked best when unseen. Giving them noble positions would only draw attention and undermine their effectiveness. Kai understood that well. Even so, he made a mental note to reward them in other ways. He already planned to create a smaller, more specialized branch of the Watchers—one that would act as long-term observers within noble houses he did not yet fully trust, and eventually, as agents sent into other kingdoms. That, however, was a matter for the future.

  With those matters settled, the coronation continued. Kai formally announced the elevation of the new Duchesses and confirmed Duke William Blackwood’s promotion as Archduke and Supreme Commander of the army. He also declared his intention to commission a complete and accurate map of the kingdom and to begin constructing major roads to connect distant territories, accelerating trade, travel, and communication across Lancephil.

  By the time the announcements drew to a close, it was clear to everyone present that this was not merely the rise of a new king, but the foundation of an entirely new era.

  He saved one of the most consequential announcements for last.

  When Kai declared that Veralt would become the new capital of the kingdom, the reaction was immediate, and overwhelmingly positive. A ripple ran through the nobles first, sharp minds already calculating the implications, followed by the crowd as realization set in. Veralt was no longer just a prosperous city or a strategic stronghold. It was now the heart of the kingdom.

  Land in Veralt became priceless at that very moment.

  Kai could see it in the faces. Merchants thinking of trade within the city.. Nobles thinking of buying estates. Commoners thinking of the various opportunities this would grant them. His projects had already transformed the city with careful planning and infrastructure, but a capital demanded more than efficiency—it demanded vision. And with him ruling from Veralt, the flow of resources, talent, and attention would inevitably follow. Kai fully intended to invest heavily into the city, not just to make it grand, but to make it functional, fair, and sustainable.

  He followed that by formally announcing the creation of the royal council, the body that would oversee and approve the kingdom’s most important decisions going forward. He did not name every member, but he announced the ones that were confirmed—Duke William Blackwood, Killian, Duchess Vaessa, Duchess Marren, Claire, and Francis. With all of them, he was aiming for a balance of military, administration, magic, nobility, and ground reach, all bound together, and the announcement was again appreciated by the commoners, even if not much by the nobles left out of the council.

  And then came the final announcement.

  His engagement to Princess Amara.

  Kai had expected approval. Perhaps polite applause. What he did not expect was the explosion of enthusiasm that followed.

  The moment he spoke her name, the square erupted. Cheers rose so loud they drowned out everything else, voices overlapping into a single roaring wave of approval. When he stepped forward and exchanged pendants with Amara—who had a big smile on her face—the noise only intensified. She flushed under the attention, hands trembling slightly as she accepted the pendant.

  Perhaps it was her making a connection with the commoners. Or perhaps the countless rumors that had already spread about the two of them.

  Whatever the reason, the people welcomed her without hesitation.

  By the time the cheers finally began to fade, the coronation had reached its end. The banners fluttered in the wind, and the crowd slowly began to disperse—buzzing, hopeful, and alive with anticipation about the future.

  And just like that, Kai’s first day as King of Lancephil began.

  ***

  After the coronation, Veralt celebrated as if the city itself had been holding its breath for years and had finally been allowed to exhale.

  Food was carried out into the streets in endless trays. Barrels of drink were cracked open without charge. Fires burned through the night as bards played wherever there was space, and strangers sat together on stone steps and rooftops, arguing, laughing, and speculating about everything Kai had announced. Titles, councils, the new capital, the engagement—every word spoken on the stage was dissected and debated like prophecy.

  By the next day, Kai learned it hadn’t stopped with Veralt.

  Verdis celebrated. Veyrin celebrated. Even cities that had never seen him in person held their own gatherings, turning his coronation into something closer to a festival than a political event. People lit fires, flew banners, and told stories in taverns about the man who conquered the kingdom.

  A few nobles, emboldened by the mood, approached him with suggestions—half joking, half sincere—that the day should be declared a national holiday.

  Kai refused.

  He told them plainly to return to their territories and begin the real work: rebuilding, stabilizing food supplies, restoring roads, and lifting people out of the wreckage left behind by the war. Celebration had its place, but the kingdom could not afford to linger in it.

  As the nobles departed, they carried more than orders with them. They carried news; news of how the war had ended, how the princes had fallen and how Lancephil had a new king.

  Kai was acutely aware of how slowly information moved through the kingdom. Word still traveled by riders, merchants, rumors and chance meetings. It was inefficient, and even dangerous. And he intended to change that as soon as possible. Until a true information network could be built for the common populace, the drones would remain the only reliable thread connecting Veralt to the rest of the realm.

  For now, though, there were far more immediate concerns.

  Most of the nobles left within the day, but Duke Blackwood remained, along with Francis. The three of them met in his office, away from music and celebration, discussing the problems that needed to be solved as soon as possible.

  Border security came first.

  A new king always invited attention, and not all of it would be friendly. Neighboring kingdoms would test Lancephil’s resolve, its defenses, its unity. And among them, Alparca was the most dangerous.

  They would soon learn of Kai’s ascension.

  They would certainly reach out.

  Whether that contact would come in the form of envoys or armies remained to be seen.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Fortunately, Duke Blackwood chose to take direct control of the borders himself.

  It was the most sensible decision. His name still carried weight among the military, and there was no one in the kingdom better suited to handling sudden provocations or silent troop movements. With Duke Blackwood overseeing most of the frontier, Kai only needed to concern himself with one region personally—the border with Vanderfall.

  Ironically, it was the only border Kai felt no real unease about.

  With Elias there, Vanderfall was unlikely to move against Lancephil, and they were still dealing with the repercussions of the plague. Still, Kai agreed to keep an eye, coordinating with Viscount Redmont to ensure that no surprises slipped through under the assumption of goodwill.

  Francis proposed a broader approach.

  He suggested sending formal diplomatic envoys not only to the neighboring kingdoms but even farther beyond, carrying official records of what had happened: the end of the civil war, the fall of the Lancephil royal family, and Kai’s ascension to the throne. At the same time, the borders would be quietly reinforced, not in a way that looked aggressive, but enough to ensure the kingdom could respond instantly if diplomacy failed.

  Kai agreed, but he also added an idea of his own. They would spread official word that he was a Magus.

  It was a lie, but one that would be accepted without much scrutiny.

  After everything Kai had displayed during the war, most kingdoms already believed it. Making it official would change how the world perceived Lancephil overnight. A kingdom ruled by a Magus was not something any ruler took lightly, especially when that Magus was young.

  That was the key.

  Most Magus who ruled or influenced kingdoms were ancient, cautious, and bound by tradition. A young Magus on the throne—one who had already crushed a civil war and survived battles that should have killed him—was unpredictable. The kind of variable neighboring kingdoms would rather observe than provoke.

  There were risks, of course.

  Declaring himself a Magus might draw assassination attempts, particularly from rival Mages who feared what his growth might mean in the long term. But Kai suspected that danger existed regardless. Power, once visible, always attracted hostility.

  So they went ahead with it.

  Beyond diplomacy and borders, they turned to internal integration—the part Kai cared about most. The kingdom needed to stop functioning as a patchwork of isolated territories and begin operating as a unified system.

  The nationwide education program would expand first. Then the Mage and Enforcer identification initiatives would follow, ensuring that talent was found early rather than wasted.

  Alongside that, a far more robust apprenticeship programme would be introduced for commoners—paths into trades, crafts, administration, and even magical theory to assist Mages, so people could find work without relying solely on birth, connections or noble favor.

  While all of that was being set into motion, Kai also pushed for the Adventurer Guild to become a national organization.

  That had always been his intention when he first helped establish it in Veralt. The results here had already proven its worth—jobs for the capable, protection for the weak, and a steady flow of information that didn’t rely on noble channels. Expanding it into every major city would not only stabilize the kingdom internally, but also give each region a force that could respond quickly to threats. In times of crisis, adventurers could act as a local militia, buying precious time until formal troops arrived.

  That was the kind of structure a kingdom constantly on the edge of danger needed.

  Like that, Kai, Duke Blackwood, and Francis worked through the kingdom’s most pressing issues for two full days. They spoke until their voices grew hoarse, argued over priorities, redrafted plans, and discarded ideas that wouldn’t survive reality. By the end of it, the framework of the new Lancephil was no longer just a vision—it was something that could actually function.

  On the third day, Duke Blackwood finally took his leave.

  He clasped Kai’s arm in a firm grip before departing and wished him the best as the ruler of Lancephil.

  Ironically, despite being king now, the first thing Kai chose to do once he finally had a moment to breathe had nothing to do with court or politics.

  He decided to return to Valkyrie’s Tower.

  The general direction for rebuilding the kingdom had already been given. Francis and Killian were more than capable of enforcing it, refining it, and handling the day-to-day burdens of rule. Kai trusted them with that. But there was something far more urgent pressing at the back of his mind.

  His strength and his knowledge. He knew Maleficia would not remain idle.

  Regina had underestimated him. Selenia had paid for that mistake with her life. But the rest of the organization would not repeat it. With two of their important servants gone, Kai was certain that whatever came next would be decisive, and merciless.

  If he was going to stand against that, then politics alone would not be enough.

  He needed to grow stronger.

  He also didn’t intend to make the journey alone. Amyra would go with him. He hadn’t had the chance to speak with her properly in a long time, let alone inspect her astral space. She had spent months entrenched in the plague lands, and now that most of them had finally been cleansed, she was free to leave. The timing couldn’t have been better.

  Still, before any of that, there was one thing Kai could not avoid.

  He needed to speak with Amara.

  They were engaged now, and even though the decision had been mutual, Kai knew the truth well enough to feel the weight of it. He was about to leave again. And he wouldn’t be able to give her the time she deserved.

  An apology was the bare minimum.

  But when he sat in front of her, she spoke first before he could even open his mouth.

  “I know what you’re going to say,” she said gently. “You don’t have to say it. I understand.”

  Kai froze for a moment, then leaned back against the chair in his room, staring at the ceiling as if weighing the words he still felt lodged in his chest. After a few seconds, he exhaled.

  “I still feel like I should,” he said quietly. “I know you were probably looking forward to spending time with me.”

  She smiled, not sadly, not bitterly, but with a calm that caught him off guard.

  “I was,” she admitted. “But I already got what I wanted.”

  Her hand rose to the pendant resting against her chest, fingers brushing it lightly.

  “And I know the responsibilities you carry,” she continued. “I support you—your majesty.” She paused, eyes glinting with amusement. “Or should I call you Kai now?”

  That earned a breath of laughter from him, the tension easing out of his shoulders.

  “You can call me anything,” he said. “Kai sounds good when we’re alone.” He studied her for a moment, then added honestly, “I’m still surprised you understood everything I told you so quickly.”

  She tilted her head slightly. “Claire helped,” she said. “She’s known for a while. I don’t fully understand everything yet, but I believe you. All of it.”

  Kai smiled at that, relief settling deep in his chest. “So,” he asked, “what are you going to do while I’m gone?”

  Her expression brightened immediately.

  “I have a lot I want to do,” she said. “I’ll help Francis with the administration—I've always been interested in that. And I want to push for the third circle.”

  “That sounds busy,” Kai said.

  “It will be,” she agreed, then looked straight at him, her gaze steady. “But before all that… I still have this night with you. I want to spend it together.”

  His smile softened. “What do you want to do?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “A game of battleboard. Every time you lose, I get to ask you one question.”

  As she spoke, she was already moving, pulling open a desk drawer and setting the board and pieces between them.

  Kai watched her, then sighed, a resigned amusement in his eyes. He already knew there was no escaping the game tonight.

  ***

  A/N - You can read 30 chapters (15 Magus Reborn and 15 Dao of money) on my patreon. Annual subscription is now on too.

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