Chapter 115: Proper Decorum

Down on the central platform, Caldwell raised both hands, signaling for order.

The chamber’s acoustic dampeners turned on with a low hum, muffling the angry shouts from the provincial benches until the hall grew quiet again.

"Peace, colleagues, peace," Caldwell said soothingly into the microphone. "No one is abandoning the provinces."

He paused, adjusting his posture with an air of dignified patience.

"In fact, the High Council understands that fighting off rifts requires immense material support," he continued.

His pleasant, grandfatherly demeanor hardened into something far more dangerous.

"To ensure that our defense forces are properly equipped," Caldwell said, his voice carrying clearly to every corner of the arena, "we must pool our strategic resources under unified leadership."

He looked around the room, making sure every delegate was listening.

"The High Council hereby introduces an Emergency Strategic Requisition Mandate," Caldwell declared.

Murmurs of confusion and suspicion spread across the circular floor.

"Under this mandate," Caldwell explained, "all unverified provincial mining hubs, heavy smelting refineries, and strategic mana crystal reserves across all outlying territories will be placed under High Council emergency oversight."

The provincial delegates froze in their seats.

"We cannot have critical wartime assets managed by inexperienced regional factions," Caldwell continued smoothly. "These resources must be pooled into central stockpiles to ensure our frontline forces have adequate supply."

He clicked through a series of regional maps on the central projection console, highlighting several outlying territories. ℯℯ𝑙.

"The eastern iron valleys, the northern quarry basins, and southern mineral hubs like Veridia," Caldwell said as he gestured. "These areas hold huge amounts of refined steel and mana crystals."

His gaze slowly drifted up toward Sovereign Box Four.

"However, many of these regional sectors are currently controlled by newly formed guilds without multi-generation imperial track records," Caldwell said smoothly.

A collective breath caught in the throat of the room.

"In a time of continental crisis, we cannot allow critical industrial assets to remain in inexperienced hands," Caldwell declared. "To ensure the safety of the Empire, the High Council must oversee extraction quotas, smelting schedules, and resource distribution."

Several Capital guild masters and financial oligarchs in the front rows applauded politely.

Across the open air in Sovereign Box One, Silas Drake watched with a cold, triumphant smirk.

House Drake had spent years trying to monopolize the refined mana steel trade. If this decree passed, Apex’s newly acquired foundries and crystal mines in Veridia would be forcibly placed under Drake-controlled committees.

And every other provincial guild would be bled dry right alongside them.

Inside Sovereign Box Four, Amber’s knuckles turned white against the polished railing.

"He’s couching it as empire-wide oversight, but it’s an outright robbery," Amber whispered, her voice dropping to a dangerous chill. "If the High Council takes administrative control of the foundries, they’ll choke our supply lines within a month."

Zephyra leaned forward, her violet eyes razor-sharp. "Shall I silence him?"

"Not here," Evren said with a faint smile, placing a calm hand on Amber’s arm. "Let me handle this."

Evren stepped forward, resting his hands lightly on the brass rail of the sovereign balcony.

He didn’t ask for permission to speak, and he didn’t raise his voice.

He pressed the balcony’s audio transmitter, and a cold, clear chuckle rang through the amphitheater. The sound echoed across the dome, instantly silencing the crowd.

Caldwell paused at the podium, his smile faltering slightly as he looked up.

"Elder Caldwell," Evren’s calm voice echoed through the hall, dripping with quiet amusement. "You have a remarkable talent for dressing up cowardice in expensive words."

Gasps erupted across the main floor.

Delegates turned their heads in shock, staring up at Sovereign Box Four. In the history of the National Assembly, almost no one dared to openly mock an Elder of the High Council to his face.

Caldwell’s face tightened. "Chairman Evren. This is a solemn legislative assembly, not a provincial tavern. You will maintain proper decorum."

"Decorum?" Evren laughed softly, leaning over the brass railing. "You stand there in silk robes, proposing a media blackout and circus games while border towns fight for their lives. And now you want to talk about decorum?" Evren added.

A ripple of nervous chuckles spread through the provincial benches.

"The High Council’s resolution is about strategic efficiency," Caldwell retorted sharply into his microphone. "We must pool our resources to supply the frontline!"

"Pool your resources?" Evren countered, his tone hardening into steel. "Then where is the Capital’s pool?"

Evren swept a hand toward the lower tiers where the wealthy Capital lords sat in velvet and fur.

"You sit behind two-hundred-foot granite walls, drinking imported wine and planning fireworks for your grand gala," Evren’s voice rang with authority. "Meanwhile, the provincial guilds down on that floor are the ones actually shedding blood against void beasts."

Several regional masters shouted in fierce agreement.

"You claim there’s a shortage of mana steel and crystals," Evren continued, locking eyes with Silas Drake across the open expanse. "So why doesn’t the High Council mention the forty-five thousand tons of refined mana steel sitting in private vaults right here in the Capital?"

Silas Drake’s smirk instantly vanished.

"Why don’t you mention the millions of carats of uncut crystals hoarded in House Drake’s tax-sheltered warehouses?" Evren pressed, his words falling like hammer blows. "You’ve been holding back supply to inflate market prices by three hundred percent."

The amphitheater exploded into an uproar.

"Is that true?!" a provincial master shouted, glaring at the High Council benches.

"They’re sitting on stockpiles while we ration bullets?!" another voice yelled in fury.

Caldwell slammed his palm onto the podium console. "These are baseless, slanderous accusations from a reckless upstart!"

"If they’re baseless, open your private warehouses to an imperial audit right now," Evren replied effortlessly.

Caldwell’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His face turned a deep, furious shade of red.

Up in Sovereign Box One, Silas Drake’s golden mana flared around his shoulders, cracking the polished granite tile beneath his boots.

Evren looked down at the entire hall, his presence dominating the arena despite standing three stories above them.

"Let me make Apex’s position clear to everyone in this room," Evren stated. "Veridia’s mines were built with our coin. Our foundries were bought with our money, and our gates are guarded by our people."

"We don’t need a single copper from the High Council," he declared. "Apex will fully fund and supply its own frontlines without asking the Empire for a dime."

He paused, looking toward the battered provincial delegations in the lower tiers.

"And furthermore," Evren added, "Apex will guarantee direct, open-market shipments of refined mana crystals to any allied provincial guild at baseline rates."

A thunderous cheer erupted from the provincial benches.

Guild masters who had felt abandoned and squeezed by the Capital suddenly saw a lifeline standing right before their eyes.

Then Evren turned his gaze back to Caldwell and Drake. "As for your requisition mandate? Apex will not hand over a single ounce of crystal or a single foundry to men who run away from danger."

"If the High Council wants our mines," Evren challenged, "don’t pass a cowardly resolution in a legislative hall. Bring your men down to Veridia and try to take them yourselves."

Dead silence fell over the chamber.

Not a single person breathed.

To openly challenge the High Council to an armed confrontation in the middle of the Imperial Assembly was madness. Yet the total confidence in Evren’s voice made the hair on the back of every delegate’s neck stand up.

Before Caldwell could recover his breath, the thud of a golden gavel shook the central rostrum.

BAM!

Grand Arbiter Kincaid stepped forward, his piercing gaze sweeping over the podium.

"Under Section Nine of the Imperial Sovereign Defense Charter," Kincaid announced, "any registered guild that fully self-funds its defense deployment is exempt from administrative asset pooling."

Kincaid looked directly at Caldwell.

"The High Council’s requisition motion is predatory, unconstitutional, and hereby struck from the docket," Kincaid declared.

Caldwell swayed on his feet, clutching the edge of the podium as whispers of mockery spread through the room.

Across the arena, Silas Drake slowly rose from his seat in Sovereign Box One.

The temperature around the Solar Crown balcony skyrocketed, golden flames dancing across his manicured fingers.

He leaned over the railing, his furious glare locked onto Evren.

"You talk big from a private balcony, delivery boy," Drake’s voice boomed across the amphitheater, rich with killing intent. "You think having deep pockets makes you a sovereign power?" Drake snarled. "The Void Incursion doesn’t care about your coin, and monsters don’t read financial ledgers."

Drake pointed a golden gauntlet directly at Evren.

"The Imperial Defense Charter dictates that defense zones are earned by blood and blade," Drake roared. "If Apex claims the strength to stand alone, prove it in the Colosseum testing arrays."