Chapter 2: A Throne Under Siege
Roman leaned back on the ornate headboard, his mind swirling with newfound memories and a mounting sense of dread. The knock at the door echoed again, and a voice called out.
"Your Majesty, the council awaits your presence."
Roman forced himself out of bed, feeling the chill of the polished marble floor against his bare feet. He glanced at the grand mirror across the room. His reflection stared back at him—sharp features, dark hair, and piercing eyes. The body looked regal, but inside, he felt like an imposter.
The memories that poured into his mind painted a grim picture. The kingdom of Death, nestled in a cold, mountainous region, was teetering on the brink of collapse. The western border was under siege from a neighboring kingdom, Eryndor, whose forces had already claimed several key cities. Refugees poured into the capital, creating unrest. The kingdom's resources were stretched thin, and morale was at an all-time low.
More troubling were the political schemes within the royal court. The Prime Minister, Lord Varic, wielded immense influence over the council and had been eyeing the throne long before Roman's father passed. The only thing keeping Varic from seizing power was the kingdom's strict code of ethics, which frowned upon coups. But even that seemed like a fragile barrier. Roman's survival felt like a miracle—or perhaps a curse.
He was, quite literally, a king with no power. A pawn in a dangerous game.
As he stood, a maid entered, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty, your attire is ready. The council grows restless."
Roman nodded, masking his anxiety. As the maid helped him into his royal robes—a deep black and crimson ensemble lined with fur—he tried to piece together a plan. But before he could gather his thoughts, something unexpected happened.
A faint humming sound filled his ears, and his vision blurred. Suddenly, a translucent blue screen appeared before him, floating midair.
Day 1
Troops: 100 Soldiers
Roman blinked, stunned. He instinctively waved his hand through the screen, but it remained fixed. His heart raced. "What… is this?" he muttered under his breath.
The maid, startled, glanced up. "Your Majesty?"
"Can you… see this?" Roman gestured toward the screen.
The maid frowned, concern etched on her face. "See what, Your Majesty? There is nothing there."
Roman exhaled sharply. "Nothing. It's nothing."
His mind reeled. Is this… my golden finger? He had read countless web novels back in his world, where protagonists often gained cheat-like abilities. Was this his? A system? A means to survive in this cutthroat world?
He had no answers, but he knew one thing: he couldn't afford to let anyone know about this, at least not yet.
"Your Majesty, the council," the maid reminded him gently.
Roman straightened, suppressing his confusion. "Very well. Lead the way."
---
The council chamber was a grand hall with towering columns and an imposing round table at its center. Around it sat the most powerful figures in the kingdom—generals, nobles, and advisors—all of whom stopped their hushed conversations as Roman entered.
Lord Varic rose, bowing slightly, though his eyes betrayed his disdain. "Your Majesty, we are honored by your presence."
Roman took his seat at the head of the table, every pair of eyes drilling into him. He could feel the tension in the air—resentment, doubt, and ambition. Varic's presence loomed large; the man radiated confidence and control.
"We have urgent matters to discuss," Varic began, his tone dripping with feigned respect. "The western front is crumbling. Eryndor's forces have taken the cities of Velstad and Croyan. If they breach Ironvale, the capital will be exposed."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. Roman clenched his fists under the table. He wasn't just battling an external enemy; he was surrounded by wolves in sheep's clothing.
"What are our options?" Roman asked, trying to sound authoritative.
A general, a grizzled man named Hadrin, spoke up. "We need reinforcements, Your Majesty. The capital's defenses are thin, and the soldiers at the front are exhausted."
"And where," Varic interjected, "do you propose we find these reinforcements? We lack the manpower. The treasury is nearly empty. Perhaps… if we sought a truce with Eryndor—"
"No!" Roman snapped, surprising even himself. The thought of surrendering made his blood boil. Memories of his father's steadfast rule surged within him. "Death does not kneel. We will find another way."
Varic's lips curled into a subtle smirk. "As you wish, Your Majesty. But time is not on our side."
Roman's gaze swept across the room, landing on each council member. He could see their doubt, their lack of faith in him. But beneath his robes, his hands itched to call upon the mysterious screen.
If this system can give me soldiers… could it save the kingdom?
He pushed the thought aside for now. First, he had to survive this meeting.
"Prepare a full report on the western front," Roman commanded. "I want options, not excuses. This meeting is adjourned."
As the council dispersed, Varic lingered, his eyes narrowing. "You're playing a dangerous game, Your Majesty. I hope you're ready for the consequences."
Roman met his gaze, unflinching. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect this kingdom."
As Varic left, Roman finally allowed himself a moment to breathe. He glanced around the empty chamber, then summoned the blue screen with a thought.
Day 1
Troops: 100 Soldiers
A small smile tugged at his lips. Let's see what you can do.