Prince Alpheo had waited far too long for this mont. 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 The princedom, with its patchwork of outdated customs and fractured authority, had always struck him as an unwieldy relic.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, sothing that ironically he did not give a shit about
For years, one crisis followed another. Each battle, negotiation, and uneasy truce seed to push his ambitions further into the shadows. And yet, the idea persisted, burning brightly in the back of his mind. He carried it with him like a secret talisman, knowing its ti would co.
Now, at last, the horizon was clear. Peace, hard-won and tenuous though it might be, was ahead of them. The Herculeian threat was no longer imminent, and the chaos of rebellion was but a distant mory. Alpheo could finally turn his attention inward, away from swords and shields, and toward quills and ledgers.
He finally received Jasmine's approval to begin the long-anticipated recruitnt process for the new administrative body. With her consent, he wasted no ti in setting the wheels in motion, disseminating information about the effort to rchants in the capital. He believed they would eagerly seize the opportunity to secure employnt within the court. After all, service to the crown was not only prestigious but also profitable, a way to climb the social ladder for families that had long thrived in comrce.
Alpheo had also considered another potential pool of recruits: the second and third sons of knights. These younger scions, often overlooked in inheritance and overshadowed by their elder brothers, were usually given little more than a horse, armor, and vague encouragent to seek their fortunes. Alpheo imagined they might welco the chance to work for the court, particularly in administrative roles that offered stability and stature. Unfortunately, their numbers were disappointingly small, and they often resisted positions unrelated to the military. A desk and quill could hardly compete with the allure of swordplay and adventure for most of them.
This left Alpheo to rely far more than he had anticipated on the sons of rchants. While these young n lacked the martial traditions of knightly families, they possessed one invaluable advantage: literacy. They had grown up around ledgers, contracts, and negotiation tables, making them ideally suited to the bureaucratic demands of Alpheo's reforms. It was a practical compromise, and one he reluctantly accepted as necessary. If the knights' sons preferred warhorses to paperwork, then the rchant class would serve as the backbone of his budding administration.
Alpheo had briefly entertained the notion of charging a fee for these positions—a way to draw funds directly from the aspiring recruits or their families. It would have been easy enough to justify; as they were commoners after all, and the roles he offered carried prestige and access to the corridors of power. Many families would likely pay handsoly for such opportunities.
But the idea was quickly discarded. Alpheo understood too well the dangers it posed, as he was no fan of the idea of selling positions,sothing that plagued great empires, like the eastern roman empire during the middle ages.
It wasn't as though he needed the money. The princedom's coffers, bolstered by recent victories and spoils of war, were more than sufficient to fund the recruitnt and establishnt of a capable bureaucracy. His focus was not on short-term gains but on building a foundation that would stand the test of ti.
Right now Alpheo stood in his chambers, the day had finally arrived. His mind, usually sharp and ordered, now swirled with sothing akin to relief, as if seeing a man arriving with a bucket while your hand is on fire.
At his side, Ratto stood at attention, his slight figure unobtrusive yet always present when needed. With his sharp eyes and quiet deanor, he was as much a shadow to the man, always at his side as much as he was still young and eager to learn as much as he could.
"The guests have already arrived" Ratto inford him, his voice calm and asured. He stepped forward slightly, hands clasped behind his back.
Alpheo turned to face him, the faintest trace of a smile brushing his lips. "Thank you, Ratto," he said, his words sincere but distracted. His gaze, however, lingered on Ratto longer than usual. His eyes narrowed slightly as though trying to parse sothing unspoken.
Ratto shifted slightly under the weight of the prince's scrutiny. "Is everything all right?'' he asked, his tone carrying just a hint of unease.
Alpheo's gaze lingered on Ratto for a mont longer before he spoke, his tone calm yet deliberate. "How old are you, Ratto?"
Ratto straightened his posture instantly, as if the question itself was a summons to attention. "Twelve" he replied crisply, his words almost chanical but infused with pride.
Alpheo nodded slightly, the answer aligning with what he already knew. At twelve years old, Ratto had proven himself more than capable in many ways. He already knew how to write and read—sothing that one person in high command still refused to learn . His training with weapons was sufficient for soone his age..
"It's ti," Alpheo said, his voice firm, "that you learn on how to properly ride and fight on horseback."
Ratto's eyes widened slightly, his composed deanor giving way to a rare mont of unguarded excitent, it was every boy dream to be a knight after all , and a knight always fought on horseback. He didn't say anything imdiately, but his hands twitched faintly as if suppressing the urge to fidget.
Alpheo leaned back slightly, folding his arms as he continued, "Tomorrow, I'll speak with Sir Egil and inform him of my decision. You'll follow him for a ti, learn from him, until he deems you good enough. At that point, we'll shift your training once again."
Ratto's excitent was barely restrained now, his face lighting up as he bowed slightly, his voice brimming with gratitude. "Thank you, Alpheo . Truly..''
Alpheo allowed himself a small, approving smile as he rose from his seat. The boy's enthusiasm was infectious, and it reassured him that his trust was well-placed. "Good," Alpheo said simply, his voice steady but tinged with warmth. He adjusted the folds of his tunic and began to move toward the door, his thoughts already turning to the matters ahead.
It was ti to et the n and won who would form the foundation of his fledgling bureaucracy.
As Alpheo glanced back at Ratto, his eyes caught the familiar dagger strapped to the boy's side—the sa one he had given him on the day they first t, ugly as he rembered it to be . The sight stirred a small, fleeting smile on Alpheo's lips, a quiet acknowledgnt of how far the boy had co since then. Without a word, he turned away and walked forward, stepping out of the room .
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The hall was a grand space, with high vaulted ceilings and an air of solemnity. Alpheo stood near the entrance, his eyes scanning the crowd of roughly one hundred applicants gathered for the examination.
The rchants' sons, as no knight were requested to take the test given thier nobility, stood out like gaudy roosters in a barnyard. Their brightly colored hats and silk garnts, clearly chosen to display wealth and status, instead gave them an air of nervous flamboyance. The rich fabrics shimred under the hall's light, but the anxious glances they exchanged undercut any pretense of confidence. They shifted uncomfortably in their fine shoes, clearly unused by the place.
Alpheo's lips curled faintly in amusent. The ostentation was almost comical, but he understood their motives. These young n were trying their best to impress, to look the part of soone worthy of a position in his nascent bureaucracy.
Alpheo stepped into the room with an air of quiet authority, flanked by five of his guards. The solid steps of the armored n echoed off the walls, drawing the attention of everyone present. The examiners, seated at long tables laden with quills, inkpots, and parchnt, turned to observe the unexpected arrival. For a mont, confusion clouded their faces. They exchanged glances, wondering if this was so minor noble , given the guards trailing behind him.
But then, recognition flickered among a few of them. Whispers began to ripple through the hall as so examiners who recognized him from the military parade on his return leaned toward each other, murmuring, "That's the prince" Their eyes widened as they connected the youthful face before them with the storied reputation of the man who had led armies, subjugated rebellion, and vanquished the Herculeian prince, called by so the War-Prince.
Most of the room was visibly taken aback. Alpheo's youthful, almost boyish face stood in stark contrast to the image of a hardened warrior they had conjured in their minds.
Alpheo stepped forward, his eyes sweeping over the room of applicants. He paused briefly, allowing the murmurs to settle before addressing the gathered group in a steady, commanding voice.
"Welco. Each of you has co here today with the hope of serving the court and the realm of Yarzat, sothing that is both honorable and glorious. The tasks ahead , and I am not speaking about your exam ,will require patience, diligence, and above all integrity of the soul.
Today marks the beginning of a journey, one that will help shape the future of this princedom. Prove yourself worthy of this calling, and you will be rewarded with the trust and responsibility of aiding in the governance of our lands. I wish you all the best of luck. Work hard, and show us what you are capable of."
He gave a firm nod, his gaze briefly eting those of a few applicants before turning to leave. His guards followed closely behind, their armor clinking faintly in the silence he left in his wake.
As Alpheo walked down the hall, his thoughts lingered on the candidates behind him. Soon, he thought, these individuals—awkward rchants' sons and nervously posturing hopefuls—would grow into the pillars on which the state would stand. They would carry out the administration, maintain order, and implent the reforms he had long envisioned, as many tis the work of many was much more efficient than those of the few...
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