Chapter 412: The Weight of a New Kingdom

The Weight of a New Kingdom

Three days after Victor left New Fantom City, Eon and Brinda were being bombarded with a mountain of work.

The room looked as though a storm had passed through it.

Documents covered nearly every surface.

Maps were spread across tables.

Requests from merchants were stacked beside reports from the Adventurers Guild.

There were lists of supplies, construction plans, tax records, requests for workers, reports from the city guards, and letters from villages that had suddenly decided they wanted to become part of Victor’s newly declared territory.

Eon sat behind a large wooden desk with his black hair falling messily around his face.

His black eyes were fixed on a report.

He had been reading the same paragraph for nearly a minute.

Not because he didn’t understand it.

Because there were simply too many things demanding his attention.

Across from him, Brinda stood beside another table.

Her long purple hair was tied loosely behind her back, while several sheets of parchment were held between her fingers.

She looked down at the papers.

Then at the mountain of documents beside her.

Then back at the papers.

She slowly exhaled.

"This is ridiculous."

Eon didn’t look up.

"That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said in the last hour."

Brinda turned toward him.

"I have been saying sensible things all morning."

"No."

Eon finally lifted his head.

"You’ve been threatening to throw the paperwork into the fireplace."

Brinda narrowed her purple eyes.

"I was considering it."

"You were holding the papers over the fire."

"I was considering it seriously."

Eon stared at her for a moment.

Then sighed.

"Unfortunately, we can’t burn the problems away."

Brinda dropped the papers onto the table.

"Why not?"

"Because there are more copies."

She looked horrified.

"More?"

Eon pointed toward a corner of the room.

Several unopened crates sat there.

Brinda stared at them.

Her expression slowly collapsed.

"Those arrived this morning."

"Yes."

"And what’s inside?"

"Reports."

"How many?"

Eon paused.

"Enough."

Brinda closed her eyes.

For several seconds, she said nothing.

The situation should have been impossible.

Three days had passed since Victor’s departure from New Fantom City.

Yet instead of becoming calmer, the city had become busier.

Victor’s ideas had given the people hope.

That much was undeniable.

The declaration of independence had created a strange kind of energy throughout the city.

People wanted to work.

They wanted to rebuild.

They wanted to prove that the new government could actually provide something better than what they had lived under before.

The Adventurers Guild had offered assistance.

Several fallen nobles had also placed their resources at Eon’s disposal.

Even merchants who had originally been hesitant were beginning to cooperate.

But enthusiasm alone could not build roads.

It could not repair walls.

It could not feed thousands of people.

It could not pay workers forever.

That was the problem.

Victor’s ideas were excellent.

Making those ideas happen was another matter entirely.

Eon leaned back in his chair.

He rubbed his temples.

"We have the plans."

Brinda nodded.

"We have workers."

"Some."

"Adventurers."

"Some."

"Former nobles."

"Some."

She frowned.

"You keep saying some."

"Because every answer leads to another problem."

Eon picked up another document.

"We need builders for the eastern district."

He placed it down.

"We need food for the workers."

Another document.

"We need transportation."

Another.

"We need guards for the roads."

Another.

"We need medicine."

Another.

"And every one of those things costs money."

The room became quiet.

That was the real enemy.

Money.

Victor had left behind a considerable amount.

Under normal circumstances, it would have been an enormous fortune.

But New Fantom City was no normal project.

They weren’t simply maintaining a city.

They were trying to transform one.

Eon glanced toward the ledger beside him.

He opened it.

The numbers were already beginning to frighten him.

"The money Victor gave us is a lot."

Brinda nodded.

"But?"

Eon gave her a tired look.

"But it isn’t enough."

Brinda’s expression became serious.

"I already knew that."

"We could drain the resources of the Redcliffe family."

"We already have."

"The other fallen nobles?"

"Almost everything useful has already been seized and redirected."

Eon tapped the ledger.

"And even if we take every remaining coin from them, it won’t be enough to maintain what we’re building."

Brinda folded her arms.

"Then we need another source."

"Exactly."

The problem was that nobody had an easy answer.

For the moment, the people were working without demanding proper payment.

The proclamation of independence was still fresh in their minds.

People were excited.

They believed they were part of something new.

Some volunteered their labor.

Others accepted temporary food rations instead of wages.

Farmers brought grain.

Craftsmen repaired buildings.

Adventurers helped protect supply routes.

Even some merchants were willing to transport goods without immediate payment.

It was almost miraculous.

But Eon understood something the excited citizens didn’t.

Miracles didn’t last forever.

Soon people would become tired.

Children would need food.

Families would need money.

Workers would need wages.

Merchants would demand payment.

Adventurers would expect rewards.

Hope could move people for a few days.

It could even move them for a few weeks.

But eventually, reality always came knocking.

Brinda leaned against the table.

"How long?"

Eon looked at her.

"Until what?"

"Until people stop working for free."

Eon remained silent.

That silence was enough.

Brinda understood.

"Not long."

"No."

She looked toward the window.

Outside, New Fantom City was alive.

Hammering echoed from the streets.

Workers shouted instructions.

Children ran through alleys.

Merchants argued over prices.

Adventurers carried crates of supplies.

The city was changing.

It was rough.

It was messy.

But it was moving.

And somehow, that made the problem even more frightening.

Because they could see what was possible.

They just didn’t know how to sustain it.

A knock came from the door.

Eon looked up.

"Come in."

A young administrator entered.

He bowed quickly.

"Lord Eon."

"What is it?"

"The workers from the western district are requesting additional food."

Eon sighed.

"How much?"

"Enough for three hundred people."

Brinda immediately looked at him.

"Three hundred?"