The months after finalizing the deal with Axion Argonia flew by quickly, despite everything.

  Now, Reivan watched as the final wisps of a teleportation gate flickered out, announcing that Helen—who should give birth to his first son in the coming month—had finally left Lageton and returned to the kingdom. And if everything went smoothly, she would be safely back in Aizenian territory.

  Probably. He didn't have a live video feed from the other to check if his wife was the one using the portal, but he was inclined to believe nothing went wrong with the wondrous mode of transportation. Nothing had happened before now, after all.

  Reivan never wanted to be away from his wife, but it was for the best.

  His pregnant wife would be back in the kingdom's capital, where experts on just about every field hung about. Surrounding her would be two other women who had given birth to the royal family's brats, namely Vianna and Stel. And all in all, Reivan wanted his son or daughter to be born in the kingdom itself. Though his line was no longer the main family bloodline, an Aizenwald still had to come into the world on Aizenian soil.

  Speaking of, he had another kid on the way. Elsa's stomach bulge was already noticeable, the st time he checked—which was very recently, so it was fresh information.

  'Hm. I just noticed, but my first two children will be half a year apart. Neat.'

  The initial pn had been to give it at least a year before having another kid with someone else, but such pns did not survive first contact with his loins. As, he had been unable to control himself. Whoopsie daisy.

  But it was fine because Elsamina didn't want their kid to have any cim on the crown, even distantly.

  In fact, their child wouldn't even be the child of "Reivan Aizenwald". It would be Elsamina's child with some mysterious fellow named "Ken", who was, coincidentally, Reivan Aizenwald himself. Nobody knew the st part, of course. Except the royal family, of course. And most of the knights who were stationed in Samsara... Oh, and he supposed a few priests knew as well.

  'When I think of it that way, maybe it isn't such a big secret after all...'

  Reivan internally debated the question of how few people needed to know of a secret for it to actually be considered a good one. He didn't bother very hard, but it was a nice distraction as he waited for the newly installed elevator that delivered him from the secret underground teleportation gate to the hidden room behind his private office.

  Soon, however, his thoughts gradually drifted over to more pressing issues. Like how his concubines-to-be have been slowly trickling into Samsara since about a month ago.

  Helen hadn't noticed because she didn't bother reviewing the full list of concubines he was supposed to have, nor was she aware of what everyone looked like. Reivan, however, did. And that's how he noticed. Hell, he'd met every single one of them personally and exchanged correspondence from time to time, so it would have been hard for him not to notice them. Besides, the women themselves didn't try very hard to evade his eyes.

  Regardless, his concubines haven't been acting as his concubines yet. As with most adult denizens of the kingdom, the majority of his soon-to-be concubines had jobs too. Even the ones that didn’t have one still had the skills to take one up should they desire to.

  Most prominent among them was a girl named Criselda, who transferred over from one of Aizen’s ministries after Samsara expanded its occupied territory by at least five times in the past few months. Reivan had naturally called in support because his administration cked the manpower to oversee everything.

  With enough time, he would train up Arkhanian ministers so Samsara’s government could be filled with its own people, but that was a story for the future.

  In any case, Criselda was not only a fresh graduate from the Royal Institute, but she had also passed Aizen’s equivalent of a civil service exam with flying colors and qualified as a minister. She was also a charming young woman who came from old money, so to speak.

  Not as old as Aizenwald or Mercer, of course, given how those two cns were well-known since the kingdom’s founding.

  But generations of Criselda’s ancestors had worked as ministers. And for a nation that had a very prominent meritocracy within the government, that was big. Mainly because it meant their family produced competent people generation after generation. Clearly, they knew how to raise their children.

  In any case, Criselda was now working under Dame Gwendolyn. And the personification of Reivan’s right hand did not withhold praise for the other woman’s capabilities, despite her inexperience.

  The clincher was how Criselda wasn’t the only one. There were at least six other girls who would have been working as ministers if they weren’t going to be Reivan’s baby mommy. Well, they still could. He would actually appreciate the extra hands. He would just have Gwen give them lighter work once they got pregnant, but after that? Their abilities would be appreciated.

  ‘Dear god, are they all going to show up now…? Surely not, right?’

  Most of the women chosen as his concubines were of many varying talents and skills. They weren’t just intellectuals like Criselda and the other ministers. There were aspiring knights, even. And experienced cooks too, which he was honestly looking forward to confirming. He did like food, after all. Helen did too, so maybe she would get along with them? Fingers crossed.

  The elevator eventually slowed to a halt, allowing the contemptive Reivan to exit the secret room and directly come out into his office.

  "Fuck..." He wasted no time scowling at the stack of documents on his table. "It's still here."

  Unfortunately, he didn't live in a magical world where mountains of paperwork disappeared if you stepped out of the room for a little. All it had were cat girls. Oh, and ten beastiaries' worth of monstrosities.

  Since his administration was trying a “no paper policy” by using holostones and dream crystals, he immediately realized what the documents were about. They likely had details and information that shouldn’t be passed to him through a rey of messengers.

  Reivan sat behind his desk and read through the documents one by one, turning each one into ash with a fsh of electricity after reading its contents.

  ‘So the supply trade went well.’

  That meant yet another infusion of popution, and another spike in public sentiment for rescuing Arkhanians from Argonia’s evil clutches. The successful sve-for-supplies trade with Axion’s camp was the main reason why Samsara had to expand the nd it occupied.

  Lageton simply couldn’t contain so many people. With the help of [Earth] attribute elementalists, making buildings and physically expanding the city wouldn’t be a problem given enough time. But it wasn’t sustainable to have more than fifty million people crammed inside Lageton.

  Maybe it wouldn’t have been much for a metropolis in Modern Earth—a pce where a portion of the popution was satisfied to live in small apartments that were barely bigger than his bathroom. But in this world? Fifty million people’s shit would clog up any sewer. Feeding such a city would be a bitch and a half too, unless they could grow their own food.

  That was why Reivan continuously pushed for the revival of rge-scale fishing and agriculture by establishing small fishing blocs along the southeasternmost part of Samsara’s domain and rebuilding the towns with plenty of ftnds nearby, which had to be healed by Sormon Priests for an entire month before it became serviceable.

  All in all, everything was going very well for the most part.

  ‘They still haven’t requested the death of some imperial prince though. Or princess. So maybe Jiji was right.’

  Axion’s side had been voraciously trading millions upon millions of Arkhanians for food these past few months. Yet they were utterly quiet about the other part of their transaction—specifically, the one where ten million Arkhanians would be relinquished to Samsara upon the death of a specified imperial rival.

  This silence was what caused Jiji to approach him the other day, saying that they may have been misled by Axion. She realized only betedly that perhaps the other side wanted the supplies more than the death of their rivals. Yet Samsara’s side overly focused on the tter during the negotiations.

  Sir Xander was sent to spy on the imperial factions up north together with some other knights who were skilled at that sort of thing, and honestly, the information they sent back was starting to give him simir conclusions as Jiji.

  Some of the imperial factions were rationing, and they seemed to focus on stealing supplies from each other when attacking.

  ‘If only we had this information from the start…’

  Reivan sighed in regret. Still, Jiji had made the best of the situation back then, so he didn’t bme her at all. Nor did his opinion of her lower from this.

  “We are, all of us, our worst day. But we are also our finest day as well. And every single other one, even those that are yet to come,” a particurly philosophical knight in the past had once said. Though he died from being eaten by some giant sea serpent in the depths east of the kingdom, his words still lived on in writing because someone fortunately found his diary.

  Anyway, Jiji’s failure would define her. But so would her greatest victories and all of the mundane days of mild successes. The tter won out in the end, in Reivan’s sincere opinion.

  His sister was taking the defeat hard though, and even he was not allowed to speak of it. She would cm up during dinner if he so much as looked at her funny. So he was giving her time to get back on her feet for now, though she really shouldn’t be too hard on herself.

  Honestly, she should just get over it by hating Axion. Those pesky Argonian vermin weren’t much use for anything else but absorbing resentment. Little shits, the lot of them.

  Reivan was broken out of his thoughts by a familiar knocking pattern on the door that he and his best friend had agreed on. With a casual wave of his hand, he used [Formless Will] to open the door.

  Hector stepped into his office afterward, and not with a casual gait. “Van, the darkin patrols spotted ships in the distance. Twenty, actually.”

  “That’s a lot…" Reivan's forehead creased in contemption. "Or too few, depending on what they want. By the way, do we know what they want?”

  “The darkin wanted to confront the ships." Hector shrugged. "But they weren’t allowed since it might be dangerous.”

  Not having a reliable coast guard was really inconvenient, it seemed. And it wasn’t even the darkin’s fault, because Reivan was used to the notion of having Ascendants flying around the coasts. Sure, there was a treaty forbidding Ascendants from taking action around these parts. But that only applied to the signatories.

  For all he knew, those ships were elven. And with ten Transcendents in every ship, no matter how absurd the idea was.

  “Oh!” Hector suddenly spped his forehead. “Right. They got a description of the fg, though.”

  Reivan raised a brow. “Why are you pying up the suspense? Just tell me already.”

  “Gee, how rude.”

  “How about I shove my rudeness up your asshole?” Reivan threateningly raised his fist with a smirk.

  “Alright, alright. Can’t have fun anywhere, these days…” Hector chuckled and raised both hands in surrender. “It’s the Star of Fortune.”

  “Oh. That’s not who I expected, if I'm being honest…”

  'Actually, I almost forgot about them because of their insistence on staying neutral.'

  During the initial turmoil after the Sage King’s murder, a lot of the Star’s personnel hung around in Lageton for a while. Including the Gdiator King. But then, for some reason, they suddenly took everyone and left.

  All of their personnel were saved without exception. But given just how many businesses and properties were destroyed, the Star of Fortune wouldn’t have been unreasonable for resenting both Aizen and Argonia. But they didn’t seem to be.

  The kingdom had even proposed, after the treaties were signed, to compensate the Star of Fortune for their unexpected losses. But the Star had apparently refused, saying that none of them expected the destruction to be so widespread and it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

  Honestly, Reivan’s opinion of the mercantile organization was raised tremendously by that. They took the loss like champs instead of throwing a tantrum. Maybe it was because they were businessmen? Failure and unexpected tragedies causing losses were just part of the profession.

  Regardless, the severance of communication had been arming though. Aizen had been utterly incapable of getting in touch with the Star of Fortune after they left. And not for ck of trying, because the kingdom wanted to approach the Gdiator King about helping guard the kingdom while an extended expedition was sent deep into the Outnds to find the rest of the darkin.

  ‘Well, I guess I’ll have to meet them once they make ndfall.’

  Reivan sighed, menting how busy he was these days.

  The fleet of ships bearing the Star of Fortune’s fgs docked in Lageton's port at around dusk, their identities reconfirmed upon nding.

  It wouldn’t have been very polite to rush a meeting with guests when they were presumably tired from their voyage. And it was already dark outside, so Reivan was fine with letting them have their night of respite and welcome them tomorrow morning.

  Of course, the welcoming would be done mostly by his subordinates. Different from Modern Earth, it wasn’t supposed to be easy to meet a monarch because it lowered their prestige.

  And so, Jiji was sent off to offer a brief welcome before they were escorted to their lodgings—which the Samsaran Pace thankfully had built in from the very start. Hopefully, the opportunity to be useful got Jiji out of her little rut, if it could even be called that.

  “Checkmate,” Hector preened.

  Reivan frowned and squinted at the chessboard, suspicious. “Am I really?”

  “Yes. You have no moves here.”

  A dozen seconds passed as he tried every method at his disposal to potentially save his king. But he eventually had to concede to the fact that he’d lost this game.

  Again.

  He lost again.

  “What the fuck did you do to me…?” Reivan muttered absentmindedly, bewildered at his quick defeat.

  With the presence of a foreign power in the pace, he couldn’t sneak out and spend the night at Elsa’s. And with Helen going back to Aizen, Reivan was essentially homeless tonight—in the sense that he couldn't sleep in a bed warmed by a lover.

  That was why he was pying chess with Hector while slightly wasted in the middle of the night. And no, that wording was intentional. He was way past the point of being tipsy. But he was also not completely wasted either. Somewhere in between but closer to wasted was where he currently stood on the drunken scale.

  It took some effort to intentionally lower his resistance to alcohol though, but it was an enjoyable way to spend an evening.

  If it wasn’t for Hector mopping the floor with him at chess, that is.

  ‘Is it because I keep trading queens with him early…? It does seem like I get fucked in the ass from that point on.’

  Was he just useless without a queen even when the other side lost theirs too? Or was Hector just unnaturally proficient in the scenario? Merciful god, why was this frustrating him so much? Maybe it was the booze. He wasn’t supposed to care about chess.

  “Did you practice? Why’re you so good at this…?” Reivan asked with a frown, his forehead creased in frustration. He wasn’t some Grandmaster when it came to chess, but he thought himself pretty decent at it. Apparently not, if he was getting consistently mated within fifty moves.

  “I guess I’m just that good.” Hector basked in his victory as he poured himself a cup of brandy from a nearby carafe. This one wasn’t vintage, but it was from one of Akeno City’s famed brewmasters. Affordable for the average citizen but fit for a king’s table. "I devour casual pyers like you for breakfast."

  “Oh, fuck off…”

  “Also, while you were out being a hero and infiltrating the Spirit Tower, I kept on battling it out in that pce with the usual crowd.”

  Reivan’s brows rose, and his expression eased at that, remembering the days when he, Hector, and a bunch of other young knights sharpened their teamwork and coordination by fighting hordes upon hordes of nightmare spawns. Well, Reivan was honing his skill in commanding rather than teamwork, but still.

  Those were fond memories, and thinking about them brought a smile to his face.

  “How are they, by the way?” he asked, his frustration over his loss gone with the wind.

  Hector shrugged. “Nobody’s died since you left, thankfully enough. And the stronger ones are going to volunteer to get sent here the next chance they get. It’s an opportunity to sharpen themselves, and all that.”

  Reivan hummed, his mood rising. Knowing that all of those ugly bastards still drew breath was relieving. And he looked forward to reuniting with some of them soon.

  There was a hint of concern somewhere in there, dulled by the alcohol. After all, there were no Ascendants here to bail them out of trouble unless the other side fielded Ascendants too. But he believed in their capabilities. And frankly, everybody was in danger here. Danger was just a part of his life now, he supposed.

  “Let’s go again,” Hector put his cup down and started fixing his side of the board again, though he was having some trouble because his hand was dizzily frozen in the air. The drunken bastard seemed to have lost his depth perception and couldn’t even grab pieces anymore.

  ‘This is my chance!’

  Reivan agreed immediately, setting up his own pieces. But halfway through it, there was a knock on the door and he caught a familiar scent wafting from the gaps. He wondered why she was looking for him in his bedchambers until he remembered he wasn’t in his personal bedchambers.

  He and Hector were in some vacant parlour close to his room.

  “Gwen,” he called out with a bit of a sloppy garble. “You can come in.”

  The door opened and in came Dame Gwendolyn, whose professionalism wasn’t enough to prevent her from grimacing at the concentrated stench of alcohol permeating the room. It was only on her face for a moment though, and Reivan only saw it because his spinning gaze just coincidentally nded on her at the time.

  “It seems I should have come in the morning.” She bowed in greeting, likely because she was meeting him as his Head of Staff rather than a knight. “It’s just that I was informed that you had yet to retire to your room, so I thought…”

  “Oh, it’s fiiiiine.” Reivan shook his head, unintentionally worsening his dizziness. “Totally fine. I'm not drunk yet. See, I was just killing time with Hector before going to bed. A night cap, if you will. Isn't that right, Hector...?”

  He gestured to his friend but was mildly surprised that the guy had already passed out while sitting.

  ‘Damn. I could have stolen a win if we kept pying…’

  Was it dirty to win that way? Oh, definitely. There was no denying that. Would he still do it though? Probably, yeah.

  “As you wish,” Gwen kept standing by the door, seemingly unwilling to get too close to Reivan and Hector. “There were just some key points that I wanted to inform you of so you may ruminate on the facts at your leisure. Perhaps before you personally welcome the Star’s personnel, should you wish to.”

  “Hit me with it.”

  “First of all, the Star of Fortune has…rebranded, in their own words. They are now called Fortuna. With the losses they suffered, they seem to want to dissociate the current organization from the old one. Of course, it is still mostly the same in practice."

  Reivan carefully leaned back into his posh armchair. “Noted.”

  “Second, though Fortuna came here with twenty ships, there are only a hundred people. Most of their ship’s space carries cargo.”

  “Noted.”

  “Oh, and they lost some ships to sea monsters, apparently.”

  Reivan sobered up a little at that. But only a little. “I’ll express my condolences when I meet them.”

  “Please do. Now, for the st but arguably the most important fact—Fortuna’s people did not come here alone. They've brought envoys from the Pentagoria Continent.”

  “I see, I see… That’s noted…” Reivan, still drunk, nodded along as he listened. It took him a few seconds to finally process what she had just said. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

  “Envoys from Pentagoria, Your Excellency,” Gwen patiently repeated. “Particurly, from the Principalities of Talima, Isaria, and Lawada. Talotras and Japat sent envoys as well, but they were among those that perished.”

  “Eh…?”

  Reivan immediately purged the alcohol in his system using essence and spent a moment to feel the crity return to his mind.

  When it did, he only had a single question. “Why are they here, though?”

  Gwen shook her head. “I cannot be sure, and I have yet to properly probe them. But there are possibilities.”

  “Alright. Please share.”

  “They might simply be here to pay their respects to a potential neighbor. Even though our current territory is very far from theirs, that may not necessarily stay the same if we conquer more.”

  “That’s true, I suppose…”

  “The five principalities could also be pnning to establish a truce between them as they journey across the Great Blue, aiming to take a chunk out of Southwestern Arkhan.”

  Reivan clicked his tongue. “That could be troublesome, yeah…”

  While Pentagoria wasn’t a collective threat to Aizen, it was a threat to Samsara. Pentagoria’s five nations were also signatories of the Treaty of Alexander, so they were also not allowed to use Ascendants during conflicts with other signatories. But even without the Ascendants, Samsara—despite the kingdom's support—wouldn’t be able to handle Argonia in addition to a small continent’s army.

  ‘Oh, my god… Why does every fucking thing have to happen all at once…!?’

  Reivan pinched the bridge of his nose. Weren't special events supposed to come in waves and arcs? That’s how it went in stories, anyway. Why couldn’t reality be as convenient? Instead, so many things in his life were happening all at once and he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed.

  He had way too much shit going on right now. Not all of them were bad, but still.

  There was the yawning and ever-looming threat of the Outnds. His desire and feeling of obligation to aid the darkin find the rest of their kin somewhere in that unforgiving nd. Samsara required his attention as its ruler. And very soon, dozens or maybe even more than a hundred concubines were going to come into his life. He was going to have to work hard in impregnating them for the good of his bloodline. Argonia was a problem too, and Axion a particurly gring one. The Sons of Arkhan, a mysterious organization that he frankly couldn’t make sense of, invaded his thoughts sometimes, too. His brother was off fighting in the nds north of Aizen, while his father had apparently come out of closed seclusion again—possibly having given up on Ascendance temporarily.

  And to top it all off were worries for his wife’s pregnancy and the joyful anticipation for his first child. Oh, and of course, Elsa would soon give birth too, so he was going to be the father of two before the year was up.

  The worst part was how difficult it was to tackle everything one at a time. He couldn't just split them up and tackle them individually either. Because a lot of the points were connected to other points.

  His worry for his wife and child would be alleviated a little if he could come with them to Aizen, but he couldn’t, because he had to stay and preside over Samsara. The threat of the Outnds was stopping him from fulfilling his desire to fully liberate the darkin as well.

  It was like a web. A very unpleasant web of shit.

  ‘Too much, man. It’s too much…’

  Reivan couldn’t tell which to prioritize, honestly. Didn’t the main characters of the stories he’d read in the past have an easier time than him? Sure, some of them had seemingly unsolvable problems with high stakes on the line, but at least they could focus on one thing.

  Thinking about all the shit he had to keep in mind made him dizzier than the strongest booze.

  ‘Gimme a break…’

  Reivan pitifully gazed toward Gwen, and she seemed to understand a bit of his thoughts.

  “It’s not such a big deal, Your Excellency,” she said in what seemed to be a comforting tone. “Regardless of what they are here for, ignoring and letting the situation pass is also an option.”

  “Huh…? But what if we offend them and they ally with Argonia?”

  “That is extremely unlikely. Pentagoria knows very well that Argonia would devour them if it wasn't busy dealing with us. It is in Pentagoria's best interest that we thrive, so that we can keep the hungry lion in check.”

  “Fair enough…”

  “Also, though our diplomatic retions have stagnated, we still remain cordial with Pentagoria. In their eyes, we are the better hegemon to have as a neighbor. Though they aren’t spoiled for choice because it is either Aizen or Argonia nowadays.”

  ‘I see. So ignoring is viable… Let’s go with that pn, for now!’

  Reivan was very fond of ignoring problems. As long as he could get away with it, of course. With any hope, nothing eventful would happen with the envoys, allowing him to send them back home with warm hugs and blessings.

  The next morning, Reivan just happened to catch a glimpse of the Pentagorian Envoys, accidentally discovering that they were all mermaids in disguise.

  With this discovery in mind, Reivan was forced to admit that maybe he really was cursed.

  AnnouncementChapter Word Count: 4424Last Edited: April 09, 2025Lire