"Father, the king knows so much," Jean breathed once Rowan had gone.
What she didn't realize was that what amazed her were just ordinary truths to Rowan. Ask him for grand philosophy and he'd come up empty; but on matters everyone should know, he could talk for days. Back home, that was how a nation rose—by laying tens of thousands of roads and rails so provinces could trade freely across a vast land.
"Hm. Looks like we still have a lot to learn," Seamus said. "Hurry and issue the notice—urgent recruitment of craftsmen. Don't wait until Mr. Albedo finishes the cement and we're short on hands. Raise the pay this time, but only for workers who are diligent and willing. No freeloaders. Mondstadters must understand: freedom is fine—but trying to trade freedom for mora is pure fantasy."
He gave her a long, fatherly look. "And don't you go soft-hearted again. If the king finds out you staffed the crews with loafers, your deputy's seat will vanish."
He could only shake his head at how Frederica had "trained" his daughter. Thankfully, Rowan seemed to have snapped her awake. From how she'd behaved just now, she wasn't about to start playing saint again—but he warned her anyway, so she wouldn't slip and sneak questionable hires into the construction corps. If Rowan caught it, Jean could retire on the spot.
"I won't, father. I've clearly recognized my mistake," Jean said. "No more of that. I won't try to handle every little thing myself either."
After the public notice went up, plenty had asked why she no longer allowed the Knights of Favonius to help find lost cats and dogs. That was when she realized how wrong she'd been. It had started with a moment of kindness—she thought, "I'm free anyway, I'll lend a hand." But that only attracted people who wanted something for nothing. Some hard-working folks even started to sour; why break your back for a day when the layabout across the street gets the same reward by making others do the work for free?
No one's heart stays balanced in the face of that. Once she understood, Jean began correcting her bad habits. She stopped trying to do everything herself—and she pulled Noelle close to work at her side within the Knights.
Speak of Noelle and she arrived: the maid-knight stepped in with two steaming cups.
"Minister Seamus, Captain Jean—your coffee!"
"Thanks, Noelle."
"You're welcome—this is what I should do." Her cheeks flushed scarlet at the praise.
Downstairs, in the Grand Master's office of the Knights of Favonius, Frederica was coaching Eula on handling the corps' affairs. Leafing through Jean's past approvals, Frederica could only shake her head.
Silly girl—why did you try to do everything yourself?
She rolled her eyes over the older files. If Jean were only a vice captain, that might be forgivable. But an acting grand master is, for all intents and purposes, the grand master. A leader—any proper first-rank official—exists to make decisions, not personally execute every plan. The real job is to sit in the office, review and sign off, then assign tasks to the people best suited for them—not scoop everything into your own arms while everyone else sits around staring at the walls.
That had been Jean's style, and the consequences were now obvious: outside of the specialties tied to their titles, most Knights barely knew what they were good at. So Frederica had summoned every squad captain, asked each what they actually excelled at, and only then could she parcel out the workload. Without that, she wouldn't have known where to start.
Recruitment had already begun. Frederica sent Kaeya to run it—no one else fit quite as well. For all his playful airs, his personal charisma outstripped the rest. In this arena, Eula was undisputed last place. Even though Rowan had decreed that people must stop seeing her through colored lenses, many minds hadn't caught up. Cleverly, Rowan had had Venti place his signature at the bottom: the edict bore the Anemo Archon's sanction. If you opposed it, you weren't a Mondstadter—you were a heretic. In a nation of Barbatos' faithful, you could guess the outcome. The people themselves would make you a fool without the Knights lifting a finger.
As they say in Liyue, "If the Geo Lord acts thus, he must have his reasons." In Mondstadt that becomes: "If Lord Barbatos wills it, there is purpose." That was the advantage of theocracy—like when Rowan was named Knight-King. If it's the wind god's command, Mondstadt follows. And so far, Lord Barbatos hadn't chosen wrong.
"Frederica, how is the recruitment going?" Rowan walked in mid-lesson.
Frederica and Eula started to rise, but he waved them back down.
"Extremely fast," Frederica reported. "By yesterday afternoon alone, sign-ups exceeded two hundred thousand. Should we stop recruiting? We can't keep this up—the treasury won't hold."
It wasn't needless worry. The moment the Knights announced enlistment, people had swarmed in. As of this morning, Kaeya's report put Mondstadt's registrants north of two hundred thousand, and climbing toward three hundred thousand. Too many bodies, and management becomes a nightmare.
"No need to stop—keep going," Rowan said. "Out of those two hundred thousand, we'll be lucky to keep a hundred thousand. Only once they become formal Knights do we pay stipends. Before that, we provide only lodging and training."
"As for funds, the hundred billion I fleeced from Snezhnaya is more than enough."
(End of Chapter)
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