Prince Alpheo had waited far too long for this moment. Since the day the notion of taking over the princedom had first planted itself in his mind right after he had killed Arkwatt , it had grown into a fervent belief that reform—both administrative and political—was not only necessary but inevitable. The princedom, with its patchwork of outdated customs and fractured authority, had always struck him as an unwieldy relic. His vision, bold and clear, demanded an overhaul.
But the timing had never been right.
First, there had been Ormund's rebellion, a mostly short conflict, but one that required his attention nonetheless. No ruler could afford to dream of reforms while the very foundations of his rule were under attack. Then, barely had the dust settled from that uprising when the Herculeian Prince had insulted them , forcing Alpheo to abandon all other considerations in the pursuit of a war of honor, something that ironically he did not give a shit about
