Chapter 42: Foundation
I continued my duties after the coronation. The celebratory atmosphere had died down in the capital. The former nobles who survived the massacre were tasked with carrying out my orders. Even if they did not want to, I had detached my forces to ensure they fulfilled them. Now, it was back to peaceful days.
However, that peace did not last long. It was about the capital city. Arthenburg was suffocating under its own weight.
In the wake of my victories and the promise of a free, slave-less society, the capital's population had tremendously surged. Two hundred thousand souls were now crammed within its walls. The traditional infrastructure, designed centuries ago by lazy aristocrats to support only a fraction of that number, was at its limit. The dirt roads had turned into impassable trenches of mud and waste. The slums were overcrowded, creating a breeding ground for cholera and plague.
If a plague swept through the city, the newly freed citizens would die just the same.
"I want the slums leveled," I commanded, standing over a massive architectural map of the capital spread across my study desk.
Chief Engineer Thorgar looked up, his soot-stained face momentarily pale. "Leveled, Grand Prince? What about the people living there—where will they sleep?"
"Thorgar, you have the formula for Leo Cement and the autonomous mana golems from Libertas powering the foundries. We are no longer limited by the speed of a stonemason's chisel. I want the kilns burning day and night," I replied, tracing a finger along the main arteries of the city map.
What followed was a campaign of urban reformation so rapid that the citizens of Arthenburg thought they were witnessing the birth of a new magic.
I deployed the Royal Army to tear down the sprawling, decaying wooden slums in the lower districts. In their place, Thorgar's engineering corps erected massive, standardized wooden frameworks. I relocated the residents outside the city walls temporarily with relief supplies. They complied because of the three meals a day; in the slums, one meal a day was a miracle.
I rode out to the construction sites personally. Hundreds of heavy wagons, pulled by the tireless Libertas mana golems, dumped tons of wet, grey cement sludge into the frameworks.
I stood before the first massive residential block—a functional, four-story building designed to house dozens of families safely—and placed my hands against the wooden framing.
I did not have time to wait days for the cement to cure. Channeling my earth mana, I pushed my power deep into the wet mixture, accelerating the chemical binding process. The water evaporated in a massive cloud of hissing steam. Within moments, the sludge hardened into impenetrable, solid stone.
When Thorgar's men tore the wooden frames away, a towering, perfectly smooth stone building stood where mud huts had been just hours before.
"Do it again," I ordered Thorgar, moving to the next block. Of course, I also got help from the earth Grand Mage, Duchess Zemlya.
Within two weeks, we built uniform, safe residential blocks and paved the main avenues, sealing the suffocating mud beneath flat, hard cement. Most importantly, I directed the earth mages, headed by Zemlya, and the golems to dig deep beneath the streets, constructing a massive subterranean aqueduct and sewer system, modeled strictly after the Roman engineering of my past life.
Clean water flowed in. Waste flowed out. The stench of the medieval era was completely scrubbed from the capital. Arthenburg was rising from the dirt, transforming into a modern, industrialized fortress-city.
A modern city requires a modern mind to run it.
...
The first-ever Imperial Civil Service Examinations were held in the vast, newly cemented courtyards of the royal palace. It was a sight that would have given the late Marquis Orientis an aneurysm.
Thousands of wooden desks were arranged in perfect, military-straight lines. Seated at them were over three thousand hopefuls.
I saw the children of wealthy merchants sitting shoulder to shoulder with emancipated half-orc slaves, Elven scholars sharpening their quills next to soot-stained Dwarven foremen.
They were all taking the exact same test, though with different questions tailored to their respective expertises. It was a grueling, comprehensive exam covering mathematics, construction, logistics, basic law, agriculture, management, medicine, and alchemy.
I stood on the high balcony overlooking the courtyard, flanked by Vane and the newly appointed Chancellor Elias.
"It is a beautiful sight, Grand Prince," Elias said.
"But I fear finding truly capable administrators among the uneducated masses will be like searching for gold in a river of mud."
"Don't worry. We will find the right people."
I leaned against the stone railing and activated my System.
[Inspect: Area Wide]
A translucent, digital overlay washed over my vision, cascading down upon the thousands of test-takers below. It was a massive drain on my mental stamina, a dull ache blooming behind my eyes as the System processed thousands of data points simultaneously.
Lines of text floated above the heads of the examinees. The Chancellor was largely right. Centuries of aristocratic oppression meant that most of the commoners lacked formal education.
Administration: E-Rank | Logistics: F-Rank
Construction: D-Rank | Architecture: C-Rank
Medicine: C-Rank | Alchemy: D-Rank
I scanned row after row, looking for the rare B-Ranks and A-Ranks that would form the backbone of my new provincial governments. I found a few dozen solid candidates—a sharp-eyed Elven woman taking the medical exam, a meticulous human merchant's son testing for law, a Dwarven quartermaster excelling in construction.
What I needed most was to fill the power vacuum in the Northern, Eastern, and Western Provinces after the rebellion and the massacre.
I pushed the skill harder, sweeping the far back rows of the courtyard.
Suddenly, the System interface flared. A brilliant, blinding flash of golden light erupted in my vision, hovering over a single desk near the very edge of the courtyard.
I blinked, dismissing the rest of the data, and zoomed in on the source of the golden light.
[Target: Cassian]
[Background: Destitute Commoner / Former Indentured Scribe]
[Loyalty: Neutral]
[Exam Track: Administration & Logistics]
[Primary Stats: Administration (Master-Tier / Rank S) | Logistics (Master-Tier / Rank S) | Law (Rank A)]
[Status: Currently solving the theoretical grain-distribution question using a highly advanced, self-derived mathematical algorithm.]
My breath hitched. Master-Tier. Not even Elias, my Chancellor, possessed double S-Rank stats in administration and logistics. He was, at best, A-Rank in administration and S-Rank in assassination. Yet sitting there in the dirtiest clothes in the courtyard was a once-in-a-generation administrative genius.
"Vane."
"With me."
I did not wait for the exam to end.
I turned and strode quickly down the stairs, Vane and a squad of Venator guards falling into step behind me.
As the heavy palace doors opened and I stepped out into the courtyard, the scratching of three thousand quills stopped instantly. The examinees froze, eyes wide with panic, as the Grand Prince of Leo marched directly into the testing grounds.
I ignored their stares, weaving through the rows of desks until I reached the back corner.
I stopped in front of the desk.
The young man sitting there looked like he had not eaten a full meal in weeks. His clothes were little more than rags, and his fingers were stained black with cheap ink. He looked up at me, his face pale, his entire body trembling violently. He dropped his quill, terrified that he had broken a rule and was about to be executed on the spot.
"G-Grand Prince," he stammered, scrambling to stand and bow. "I beg your pardon, I—"
"Sit down," I commanded.
He fell back into his chair. I reached down and picked up his exam paper.
I scanned the page. He had not just answered the question on regional grain distribution; he had completely dismantled the premise, identifying a critical flaw in the traditional supply routes, and had rewritten a flawless, hyper-efficient logistical network that minimized travel time and eliminated rot. A modern mind for a medieval era.
It was perfect.
"What is your name?" I asked, looking down at him.
"Cassian, Your Highness. Just... Cassian."
"Where did you learn to calculate like this, Cassian?"
"I was an indentured scribe for the late Baron Vesper, Your Highness. I kept his ledgers. When you... when you executed him at the festival, I owed him a debt, and now my debt was voided. I have no formal schooling. I swear I did not cheat—" he is talking nervously, because of that the sentences became none-sense.
n summary, what he meant was that he had once served as a scribe under Baron Vesper without pay. The Baron recognized his talent, fabricated a debt supposedly left behind by his late parents, and used it as a chain to exploit him and force his service. He lived in constant fear, because the Baron had threatened to kill his wife and children if he ever disobeyed. After Baron Vesper was executed as one of the late Marquis Orientis's co-conspirators, that false debt was annulled by the Baron's family. The eldest son, a far kinder man, became the new head of the house and was reappointed as mayor of the territory. Although the new mayor offered Cassian the chance to remain in his post, he refused. The land had given him and his family nothing but trauma, and he wished to leave it behind. When he heard of the civil service examination, he journeyed to the capital with his family, carrying only the little wealth Mayor gave him for travel costs and compensations for past services.
"You answered all questions perfectly," I interrupted. I looked up, sweeping my gaze across the thousands of examinees who were watching us.
"Hear my words!" I projected my voice across the courtyard. "For centuries, the blood in your veins dictated your worth! The nobility told you that you were unfit to rule, unfit to govern, and unfit to lead!"
I held up Cassian's exam paper for everyone to see.
"This man is a commoner. An indentured servant who wore the rags of a corrupt Baron. And yet, on this parchment, he has just drafted a logistical network that outshines the combined efforts of the entire former aristocratic council!"
A shocked murmur rippled through the thousands of candidates.
I looked back down at Cassian. The pure terror in his eyes was slowly being replaced by shock.
"Stand up, Cassian."
He stood, his knees shaking.
"By my decree, you are hereby appointed as the Provisional Governor-General of the Eastern Provinces. You will be given an escort of Royal Knights, a salary of one thousand paper Leos a month, and the absolute authority to restructure the eastern supply lines exactly as you have written on this page. Furthermore, fill the administrative vacuums as you see fit, so long as they do not conflict with imperial law."
(A thousand paper Leos equal ten gold sovereigns, one year's worth of a commoner's earnings.)
Cassian's knees buckled. He fell to the ground, pressing his forehead against the newly poured cement of the courtyard, weeping openly.
"My life is yours, Grand Prince."
"My mind, my blood, my life... it is all yours."
[System Update: Target (Cassian) Loyalty shifted from Neutral to 100% (Fanatical/Absolute)]
"Finish your test, Governor-General."
I turned and walked back toward the palace. Behind me, the courtyard erupted in congratulatory cheers for Cassian. After a few moments of celebratory cheering, every single candidate gripped their quills with renewed intensity.
They had just watched a ragged servant be elevated to one of the highest positions in the Principality simply because he was competent.
The meritocracy was no longer a promise on a piece of paper. It had become reality. They took this exam more seriously than ever, because it could change their lives.
(Continue….)