Chapter 23: The Vote

  The Sejm Chamber, with its rows of seated representatives and observers, thrummed with barely restrained anticipation. Every seat in the chamber was filled, and the tension in the air was palpable. This was not the first time a proposed bill targeting foreign merchants had been brought before the Sejm, but it was the first time since the war with Mikisui—a war that was still fresh in the minds of many gathered here today.

  Robert stood at the back of the gallery, his gaze sweeping over the assembly below. He was here as an observer, not a participant, yet he knew how crucial it was to pay attention. The bill before the Sejm—an amendment to the Jadai Trade Laws—had already garnered widespread support. House Rest had lent its backing, along with House Crima and House Mighthaves. It seemed almost certain to pass.

  But as he looked around the chamber, Robert sensed a different kind of unease beneath the surface. This was not just a matter of trade. It was a test—a subtle maneuver to gauge how far the Commonwealth could push its neighbors before they pushed back.

  “The session will now commence,” the herald announced, his voice ringing out across the chamber. “The proposed amendment to the Jadai Trade Laws, introduced by House Crima and House Mighthaves, will be presented and discussed.”

  The chamber fell silent as the representative from House Crima stood and moved to the center of the room. The man’s presence was commanding, his voice strong and clear as he began to outline the proposal.

  “Esteemed members of the Sejm, for too long, Jadai traders have taken advantage of the Commonwealth’s open markets. Their low prices and foreign goods have harmed our local economy, and our own merchants have suffered as a result. This amendment seeks to rectify that imbalance by imposing tariffs on Jadai goods and restricting the types of goods that may be traded.”

  A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. Robert noticed several representatives nodding in approval. The economic impact of Jadai merchants had been a point of contention for years, and many saw this bill as a long-overdue correction.

  “But this is not merely an economic matter,” continued the Crima representative, his voice rising slightly. “It is a matter of national integrity. We cannot allow foreign merchants to undermine our markets and our way of life. This amendment will ensure that our people—our merchants—are given the opportunity to thrive, free from the unfair competition imposed by outsiders.”

  Robert’s gaze shifted to the representatives of House Mighthaves, who watched the proceedings with satisfied expressions. Their support for the bill was not surprising—House Mighthaves had been one of the loudest voices calling for stricter trade regulations. But there was something more at play here. Robert could feel it in the way certain representatives leaned forward, their expressions intent.

  He remembered the recent history of the Commonwealth’s dealings with its neighbors. The Principality of Mikisui—once a duchy—had been subjugated only a year and a half ago, following a conflict sparked by a similar piece of legislation. That bill had not targeted goods but access to roads, establishing tolls that restricted Mikisui’s merchants from moving freely across the border.

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  The result had been a swift escalation. Mikisui’s Duke, unable to tolerate the restrictions on his domain’s commerce, had protested—first diplomatically, then with military force. The Commonwealth, under the banner of “defending its economic interests,” had responded with overwhelming strength. House Rest’s army, alongside forces from House Crima and the Royal 2nd Army, had crossed the border. They seized key borderlands and subjugated the duchy, reducing it to a principality under Commonwealth rule.

  The memory of that campaign lingered in the minds of everyone in the chamber. The swift victory had been hailed as a triumph, but the lingering resentment and unrest in Mikisui were a reminder that even seemingly minor policies could have far-reaching consequences.

  “The Commonwealth cannot afford to repeat the mistakes of Mikisui,” a lone voice called out from one of the lower seats. The speaker, a representative from a minor house, rose hesitantly, his gaze shifting nervously around the chamber. “While it is true that Jadai traders have posed a challenge, we must consider the potential repercussions of further restrictions. Our recent conquest of Mikisui has already strained our resources and our reputation. Should we not tread more carefully?”

  A tense silence followed his words. The representative’s statement was reasonable, but it was clear that it had not been well received. Eyes narrowed, whispers spread, and Robert could feel the undercurrent of irritation in the room.

  The representative from House Mighthaves stood, his expression hard. “The situation with Mikisui was different. The tolls were an internal matter—one that the Duke of Mikisui chose to escalate into conflict. This amendment is about protecting our markets, not infringing on the sovereignty of another state.”

  “But what if this amendment has the same effect?” the man pressed, his voice wavering slightly. “What if the Jadai see this as a hostile act?”

  “If they do,” House Mighthaves’ representative replied coldly, “then it is a testament to their true intentions. Any state that seeks to undermine our economy does not deserve our leniency. The Commonwealth will not be held hostage by threats—implied or otherwise.”

  The chamber erupted into murmurs and low voices, and Robert could see that the representative had effectively been silenced. The question of whether this amendment would provoke the Jadai was no longer one that would be entertained.

  “Are there any other voices of dissent?” the herald asked, his gaze sweeping across the chamber.

  None rose. There were no more protests, no more objections. The amendment would pass—of that, there was no doubt. House Rest had already declared its support, and Peter’s earlier discussions with other houses had confirmed that no significant opposition would arise.

  The King, seated at the head of the chamber, raised his hand for silence. His expression was neutral, almost contemplative, as he regarded the assembly.

  “Representatives of the Sejm,” he said slowly, his voice measured and calm. “We have heard the arguments for and against this amendment. While I would caution against framing this as anything other than an economic measure, we must also consider the broader implications.”

  He paused, his gaze shifting to the representatives of House Rest, then to House Crima and House Mighthaves.

  “We have seen before how minor disputes can grow into larger conflicts. The Principality of Mikisui is a reminder of how quickly tensions can escalate. I trust that all of you will remember that as we cast our votes.”

  Robert felt a shiver run down his spine. The King’s words, though carefully chosen, carried a warning. This amendment might pass without contest, but the consequences would not be so easily controlled. It was not a declaration of war, but it was a provocation—a move that would force the Jadai to respond, one way or another.

  The votes were called, and as expected, the amendment passed with overwhelming support. There was no applause, no celebration—only a quiet acknowledgment of what had been decided.

  As the session adjourned and the representatives began to file out of the chamber, Robert remained in his seat, his gaze distant. The Principality of Mikisui had been conquered over a road toll. What, then, would come from a bill that openly targeted Jadai’s economic foothold in the Commonwealth?

  Robert rose slowly, his thoughts heavy. He had come to observe, to learn, and he had learned something important.

  This vote was only the first move in a larger game. The real question was how the Jadai would respond—and whether the Commonwealth was truly prepared for the consequences.

  “Let’s go,” Alexander murmured quietly, his presence a comforting anchor. “This is just the beginning. We should be ready for what comes next.”

  Robert nodded, his gaze lingering on the chamber for a moment longer. Whatever happened next, one thing was certain: the Commonwealth’s future had been set on a path that was far from peaceful.