The day had started like any other in Haven. Noisy, busy, and filled with the relentless sound of construction. But by noon, Alaric found himself in a frantic predicament.

  Lex had burst into his office, his face pale and his breathing ragged. "Lord Alaric! A carriage... a high-noble carriage just passed the gates. No advance warning."

  Alaric had barely finished his lunch before he was rushing to his private quarters. He stripped off his dusty work clothes, tossing them into a corner, and frantically began fastening the buttons of his ceremonial official dress. It was a stiff and uncomfortable.

  "Of all the days," Alaric muttered, struggling with the collar. "Who just shows up at a Viscount's territory without a letter?"

  He smoothed down the coat, checked his reflection to ensure he looked like a Lord and not a labour, and marched out.

  He arrived at the Town Central Hall, his boots clicking sharply against the polished stone floor. The guards at the heavy oak doors of the VIP meeting room snapped to attention and swung them open.

  Alaric stepped inside, composing his expression into one of calm, welcoming authority.

  The guest was already there, standing by the window and looking out at the sprawling city.

  He was a man in his mid-forties, with sharp, calculating eyes and a neatly trimmed beard. He exuded wealth. He wore a heavy navy-blue long coat tailored from the finest velvet.

  He turned as Alaric entered.

  Alaric stopped, recognizing the crest on the man’s lapel immediately. He gave a small, practiced bow and offered a noble greeting.

  "Welcome, Your Grace," Alaric said, his voice smooth. "To my humble abode. It is an honor to receive a peer of the realm, though I must ask, what is the occasion for the Duke of Osborne to come to this dense forest all the way from eastern Shersia?"

  Duke Osborne didn't return the bow immediately. He looked Alaric up and down, then gestured to the window.

  "This doesn't really look like a dense forest, Viscount," Osborne said sharply.

  He walked back to the center of the room, his eyes gleaming with genuine appraisal.

  "What you have made here... the city, the infrastructure, the sheer scale of it... it is incredible. I don't even know how you're doing it. I have seen cities take decades to grow this large. You did it in a year."

  Alaric smiled politely, gesturing for the Duke to sit. "I have a motivated workforce, Your Grace. And necessity is a harsh but effective teacher."

  "Indeed," Osborne said, taking a seat. "And your leadership seems to be the catalyst. I've heard rumors of your management style. Quite... unconventional."

  "Flattery from the master of Western commerce?" Alaric replied, pouring tea. "I have heard of your own estates, Duke. They say your taste in art and architecture is unrivaled in the Kingdom. I can see from your attire that the rumors are true. Excellent taste."

  They spent the next twenty minutes dancing around the point. They talked of the weather, the price of grain, the monster leather trade, and the state of the roads. It was a nonchalant duel of words, each testing the other's patience and intelligence.

  But the air in the room grew heavier. The pleasantries ran dry.

  Alaric set his teacup down with a soft clink. He looked Osborne in the eye.

  "Your Grace," Alaric said, his tone shifting from polite host to serious ruler. "You didn't travel halfway across the kingdom to compliment my city planning. What are you really after?"

  Osborne leaned back, his eyes sharpening into predatory slits. The mask of the polite guest dropped.

  "I will be frank," Osborne started, his voice lowering. "I can see what's happening in this kingdom. I am not blind. I can also see Duke Larethin and Prince Lucian's goal. It is really clear as day. They want a purge."

  He paused, tapping his finger on the armrest.

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  "But if a war is really going to happen no matter what... I wouldn't want to shy away and lose my upper hand."

  Alaric raised an eyebrow. "You wish to join the fray? I thought the West preferred neutrality."

  "Neutrality is profitable only until the victor decides to eat you," Osborne replied dryly. "I'm not sure about the advantage or disadvantage on both sides, tactically speaking. But my guts tell me Thorne will come out on top. And I don't want to just sit behind and observe and lose my opportunity to grow bigger."

  "So you want an alliance?" Alaric asked.

  "More than that," Osborne said. "You know, I'm probably sure that there might be some illegitimate heir of the current royal family, but the King has hidden them well. It’s none of our concern. But do you know who is the current official to inherit the throne after Prince Lucian?"

  Alaric blinked, curious. "Whom?"

  "It’s me," Osborne replied calmly.

  Alaric froze. "You?"

  "My father was the brother of the late King of Shersia," Osborne explained. "Technically, I am of royal blood. If Lucian dies, and the King dies... the crown falls to me."

  Alaric was shocked. He looked at the man sitting across from him….a merchant duke, a man of money, not war.

  "Then..." Alaric hesitated. "Are you saying that you want the Throne if the royal family dies? You want us to back your claim?"

  Osborne laughed, waving his hand dismissively. "Hey now, I'm not so aggressive nor am I dumb."

  He leaned forward, his expression serious.

  "I was skeptical about you in the Buckland war, Viscount. But now I fully know what you're capable of. And Thorne... Thorne is a force of nature himself. Opposing you two for the Throne would be dumb suicide. I have no desire to be crushed by the Iron Wall."

  "Then what?" Alaric asked.

  Osborne smiled. A sharp, revolutionary smile.

  "But how about this?" Osborne whispered. "Let's not make a king in this country."

  Alaric’s eyes widened. "Huh?"

  "Yes," Osborne said, spreading his hands. "If we want to maintain the status quo and make myself still relevant... I propose to turn the Kingdom of Shersia to a Republic."

  Alaric couldn't process it. "A... Republic?"

  "We will create a Council of Nobles," Osborne explained, his eyes lighting up with the vision. "Which will be led by the Top Three of this land."

  He pointed to himself, then to the North (Thorne), and then, finally, at Alaric.

  Alaric got the hint immediately. Osborne was suggesting the third position belonged to him. The Triumvirate: Osborne, Thorne, Alaric.

  "The different ranks of nobles can get voting rights," Osborne continued. "And they can vote amongst themselves to decide a Chancellor to govern the council for a certain period. No absolute monarch and bloodline tyranny. Just power, distributed and managed."

  Alaric sat in stunned silence. He didn't know what to say.

  He looked at Osborne with new eyes. This man wasn't a warrior. He didn't have the military prowess of Thorne or the magical genius of Alaric. But he was a Duke with excellent leadership and supreme economic authority.

  He has thought this through, Alaric realized. He wants to give himself the best opportunity without submitting to a royal family under Thorne. If Thorne becomes King, Osborne becomes a subject. But in a Republic... Osborne can be Chancellor.

  It was pride. Probably his pride with the royal blood of Shersia wouldn't let him bow to another king, especially one who was just a peer before.

  Alaric didn't reply immediately. He couldn't. The implications were massive. It would fundamentally change the structure of the nation.

  "I..." Alaric started.

  "You don't have to answer today," Osborne said, standing up and smoothing his coat. "I already talked this over with Thorne."

  Alaric stood up quickly. "You did? What did he say?"

  "Thorne said he is a warrior, not a philosopher," Osborne chuckled. "He said he will trust Alaric's judgment. Whatever you decide, he will back."

  Alaric sighed. Of course he put it on me.

  "Give me some time," Alaric said. "This is... unprecedented."

  "Take your time, Viscount," Osborne said, heading for the door. "But do not take too long. The war waits for no one."

  After the Duke left, Alaric sat alone in the meeting room as the sun began to set.

  A Republic, Alaric thought. This is really something new.

  He knew of the City States in the western continent where a council of oligarchs ran whole countries in the name of republic. But this would be a national government. Even if he agreed, it couldn't be a free-for-all. Some boundaries and checks and balances had to be made first. If they just handed power to the nobles without structure, it would be chaos.

  I will not hastily decide, Alaric resolved. I need to talk to the Duke face-to-face.

  He stood up and walked out of the hall.

  "Lex!" Alaric shouted. "Call an emergency meeting for the City Council!"

  Ten minutes later, Lex, Hans, and the key administrators were gathered, looking worried.

  "We have a crisis?" Hans asked, hand on his sword.

  "No," Alaric said, pacing at the head of the table. "We have a turning point."

  He looked at his team.

  "I am going to leave again. Prepare the fastest ship. I am going to Ironhold."