Davan leaned over his desk in Londonium's opulent Governor's Hall, scanning the endless stream of reports and directives flooding his terminal. His fingers danced over documents, each one worse than the last—supply chains disrupted, commodity prices in freefall, and key institutions frozen as the empire teetered on the edge of financial collapse. This was shaping up to be the worst financial disaster in Edenite history, and he was right at its center.
Londonium, the glittering financial capital of the empire, was supposed to be insulated from the chaos gripping the administrative heart of Eden. But as the political factions in Eden tore each other apart, throwing massive amounts of currency into circulation to stabilize the crumbling system, it triggered a financial shockwave that hit Londonium's markets with terrifying speed. The supply chains were barely holding together—now it was Davan's job to make sure the markets didn't implode under the weight of Eden's blunder.
Seated in his governor's office, draped in luxurious yet austere black and gold, Davan issued orders with sharp precision. His aides scrambled to implement his instructions, knowing that every second counted. He had already shut down key financial operations to limit the damage: stock markets suspended, international trading postponed, and luxury imports halted until further notice.
The largest challenge, however, was dealing with the banks. The Eden Central Bank, the financial backbone of the empire, had already closed under emergency orders. But the Iron Bank—stubborn and independent—remained defiantly open, clinging to its ancient charter.
Davan tapped his comm-link to connect with Garth, the Minister of Commerce, who was holed up in Eden's chaotic administrative center. Garth's weary voice crackled through the channel.
"Davan, the Supreme Leader has declared martial law," Garth said, barely concealing the exhaustion in his tone. "That gives you the authority to shut the Iron Bank down by force, no matter what the old laws say."
Davan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Shutting down the Iron Bank would stabilize the financial chaos, but it would come at a heavy political cost. The Iron Bank was a symbol of autonomy and stability across the empire; closing its doors might spark unrest among investors and financiers. Yet, he knew the alternative—letting the bank remain open and destabilize the economy further—was far worse.
"Understood," Davan replied curtly. "I'll issue the orders immediately. If the bank resists, the garrison will take care of it." He didn't bother waiting for a response and cut the channel.
He stood up from his desk, gazing out the window at Londonium's sprawling skyline—towering glass and steel structures glittering under the hazy afternoon sun. Beneath that grandeur, the financial arteries of the empire were convulsing. Traders, bankers, and citizens alike were frantically adjusting to the sudden freezes in liquidity. The sheer scale of Eden's financial machinery, once a testament to its invincible empire, now felt fragile. A broken condom and an unwanted dome baby had been all it took to bring it to its knees.
---
The governor's office buzzed with controlled chaos. His aides shuffled papers and whispered into comm-links, while Davan resumed his position at the center of the storm. Every decision he made now had the potential to reverberate through the empire for years to come.
There was a faint knock at the door. An assistant stepped in, holding a new report from Eden. "Governor, the Supreme Leader personally intervened on the Senate floor," the assistant said, her voice tinged with disbelief. "The power struggle has stopped. The Inquisitors conducted a… selective culling."
Davan exhaled in relief, though the weight on his shoulders barely lifted. Mark Lantrun's direct intervention in the Senate—something that had never happened before—had restored some semblance of order to the administrative capital. The Inquisitors, ruthless and efficient, had neutralized key troublemakers, clearing the way for normal operations to resume.
"Good," Davan muttered, rubbing his temple. The power struggle might be over, but the financial fallout would cling to Eden's markets for years. Investors would be cautious, liquidity scarce, and entire sectors would take time to recover. Already, merchants across the empire were speculating on how long the crisis would last—and many were betting on a prolonged downturn.
He opened another channel to Garth. "Any word on when we can expect stabilization?" Davan asked, though he knew the answer.
Garth gave a bitter chuckle. "Years, Davan. Maybe a decade. The treasury is scrambling to keep things afloat, but the damage is done. It'll take more than gold to fix what's been broken."
Davan leaned back in his chair, staring at the holographic reports still floating in front of him. He could see the financial scars forming—currency devaluation, shattered trade routes, rising debt. All of it traced back to one ridiculous, preventable event: a soldier's broken condom and a child no one had expected or wanted.
"Unbelievable," Davan muttered to himself, letting the absurdity of it all wash over him. It was almost poetic how something so small could unravel the vast machinery of an empire.
---
The clock ticked away as Davan resumed issuing orders. Shutting down the Iron Bank would buy them some time—time to stabilize the treasury, realign the markets, and keep Eden's empire from crumbling. But even with martial law in effect, the road ahead was treacherous. Trust was a currency far more valuable than gold, and Eden had just spent far too much of it.
He tightened his grip on the edge of his desk, forcing himself to focus. There was no room for mistakes. The empire needed him now more than ever, and he intended to see Londonium through this crisis, no matter what it took.
"Dispatch the garrison," Davan ordered his chief aide, voice cold and steady. "The Iron Bank will be closed by nightfall."
The aide gave a quick nod and left the room. Davan returned his gaze to the skyline, knowing full well that tonight would mark the end of an era for Eden. When the dust finally settled, there would be a reckoning—a painful, costly reckoning—and all they could do was survive long enough to face it.
He poured himself a drink, savoring the bitter taste as he raised the glass to his lips. In the end, it was just another day in the empire—a crumbling monument held together by power, fear, and the ruthless efficiency of those willing to do whatever was necessary.
And if Davan had to shut down every bank, choke every trade route, and tear the economy apart to save it, then so be it.