We were all seated in the meeting room, the tension thick in the air as each of us took turns briefing the new chancellor on our respective areas of expertise. The justice minister spoke first, struggling to condense the dire state of crime in layman's terms for Oskar's benefit. It was already a grim situation, but ever since the assassination attempt on the previous minister, the crime rate had skyrocketed further. People had lost faith in the central government's ability to maintain order. As fear spread, so did the chaos, and the streets had begun to resemble a battlefield of a different kind.
The finance minister spoke next, his tone urgent as he reported on the economy. Two of the country's largest banks had experienced a bank run—a disastrous chain reaction as panicked citizens rushed to withdraw their savings. The minister was pushing hard for a bailout, which meant dipping into the royal treasury we had seized during the war.
I glanced at Oskar as the minister presented the request. He looked worn, his brow furrowed deeply, a hint of sadness and fatigue in his eyes. He had only returned a short while ago, and I wondered if he had ever truly grasped just how dire the situation had become. Perhaps he felt guilty, ashamed even, for having abandoned these burdens to his brother. Ludvig had borne all this weight, trying to create something meaningful out of the rubble of war, while Oskar had been blissfully unaware on his farm.
Any request put before him was met with the same cautious response: "I'll put it under consideration." It was a stall, nothing more—Oskar buying time, trying to make sense of a situation that had spiraled far beyond his experience. His fingers drummed softly against the table, a subtle, unconscious expression of his anxiety.
When the spotlight turned to Eliza and me, we presented our findings, our primary concern being the growing instability surrounding Governor Valois. We explained his increasing dissent, the provocative measures he'd been taking, and what that might mean for our already fragile government. Just as we were wrapping up, the timing could not have been more coincidental—a messenger rushed into the room, breathless, a letter in hand.
The letter was addressed to most of us here, its wax seal bearing the distinctive crest of Governor Valois. As I took it and began to skim through it, I could already sense the contents from the elaborate formality of the language. It was written in the style of the pre-war royal family, bloated with flowery jargon and archaic phrasing. But underneath all that, the message was simple and dangerous.
I read aloud to the room:
"To the Esteemed Members of the Provisional Council,
It is with deep concern and a sense of solemn duty that I write to you, as the appointment of one Oskar Steinhardt to the role of interim chancellor has raised a most troubling issue. The governors of these united provinces, among whom I count myself, have not approved this decision. Such oversight undermines the traditions we have long upheld, even in these turbulent times. Therefore, I must declare that the Province of Lorianne will refuse to recognize the authority of this new chancellor until due and proper deliberation has taken place.
I hereby demand that Oskar Steinhardt present himself at my estate within five days, that I may determine his worthiness for this esteemed office. Should he prove satisfactory, I will then consider recognizing his leadership. Should he refuse or fail to demonstrate his capability, I shall have no choice but to prohibit all activities, persons, and facilities officially sponsored by the central government within the boundaries of Lorianne Province until such a time as a mutually acceptable agreement on the new chancellor is reached.
May wisdom guide our actions, for the future of our people depends upon it.
With the utmost sincerity, Governor Henri Valois"
If the stakes weren't so high, the situation would almost be laughable. Valois—draped in his outdated arrogance, still fancying himself as an untouchable noble from the pre-war days—demanding the chancellor present himself for evaluation. It was ridiculous, a power play that should have been scoffed at, dismissed entirely. But we were in no position to ignore it. We were in a precarious position, one where Valois had the audacity to issue such a "damned if we do, damned if we don't" ultimatum.
If Oskar agreed to meet with Valois, it would be a public act of submission, an acknowledgment of Valois's power over the central government, making Oskar look utterly weak in the eyes of the public. It would validate the notion that a provincial governor could dictate terms to the head of state. If Oskar refused, however, Valois's vaguely worded threat was clear enough: a potential move towards secession. While such an act would be blatantly illegal, it wouldn't stop Valois—not when he had the support of his people behind him.
And that was the crux of the problem. The province of Lorianne was not like the others. It was a border region, its people forged by the constant threat of invasion and conflict, having suffered first-hand from the ravages of many wars. A culture of self-defense had developed there, one of fierce independence, and nearly every citizen was armed. They were not just civilians—they were fighters, battle-hardened and fiercely loyal to their land and their leader. If Valois called on them to resist the central government, they would rise, and it would not be an empty gesture.
Eliza leaned closer, her eyes narrowed as she reread the letter, her expression darkening. "He's playing a dangerous game," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "And he knows we can't afford to call his bluff."
Oskar had remained silent as the letter was read aloud, his face growing increasingly somber. He rubbed at his temples, eyes closing for a moment as he processed the situation. It was clear he was out of his depth, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity. This was not the straightforward world of battles and orders that he knew. This was politics—a battlefield where words were weapons, and appearances could mean the difference between loyalty and rebellion.
"Do you and Eliza have a plan?" Oskar asked at last, his voice quiet, weighed down by exhaustion.
I hesitated for a moment before replying. "Nothing finalized at the moment."
"We had not anticipated the situation to devolve so fast, so soon," I continued, choosing my words carefully. The truth was, we hadn't expected Valois to act so aggressively, not this quickly. The tension was rising faster than we could manage, and we needed a solution before things slipped completely out of our control.
"Come up with something fast," Oskar said, his voice firmer now. "Whatever you decide, I give you full approval for it."
I exchanged a quick glance with Eliza, whose expression mirrored my own surprise. This was a significant show of trust—an enormous responsibility that I hadn't expected him to delegate so completely.
Oskar must have noticed our expressions because he continued, scanning the room with a deliberate, steady gaze, making sure everyone heard him loud and clear.
"Pertaining to this issue, whatever these two requests of you, you are all expected to fulfill to the highest effort possible. Understood?"
"Yes, Chancellor," came the near-unison reply from around the table, the words curt and obedient, though I could sense the undercurrent of unease from some of the officials.
"If it's you two—Vish—Viktor and Eliza," Oskar continued, stumbling briefly over my nickname before correcting himself, "I am certain we can get through this."
His eyes softened as they settled on me, his voice carrying a trust I had not expected, a belief that felt almost overwhelming. It was the sort of look Ludvig had often given me—a belief that, even in the darkest moments, I could do what needed to be done. There was warmth in his tone, the kind of faith one gives to family.
Eliza met Oskar's gaze and gave a sharp nod, her eyes steady, unflinching. "You can count on us, Chancellor."
I followed suit, standing straighter, giving Oskar the strongest, most assured look I could muster. "We won't let you down, sir."