Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 398. How to Rule
A month had passed, just like that.
The days didn't slow down, but they got easier. Or maybe Rose had just gotten stronger.
She had grown into the title—Queen of Euphorion. Bit by bit. She didn't try to grab it all at once, didn't try to drown herself in power or make grand decisions for the sake of appearances.
She started small—festival arrangements, local charity oversight, education audits—and slowly worked her way up. The staff had been patient, helpful. Chancellor Allan, always sharp but respectful, guided her through the maze of royal routines, and Claire had become more than just her assistant.
Rose knew how to rule, at least in theory. She'd been taught since she could read, raised with the expectations of royalty on her shoulders. She had attended court in Zephyrus, stood beside her father and uncle during formal judgments, observed economic briefings and royal speeches. She was trained to be queen. But Euphorion was not Zephyrus.
Not even close.
Zephyrus was half coastal. It breathed salt and sea wind, lived off fishing routes and naval control. Their problems were storms, piracy, and trade embargos. Euphorion, on the other hand, sat right in the heart of the continent. A fortress of land. Its strength wasn't in ships but in the endless flow of wagons, caravans, and merchant guilds threading through the kingdom like veins.
The trade roads were everywhere, sprawling like a web from every direction—north, south, east, and west. Euphorion was the intersection of everything, and Angel had turned that into a weapon. A strength.
Every city, every town had its own outpost—a checkpoint, both military and civil. Soldiers patrolled the trade routes regularly, specialized in scouting, ambush prevention, and terrain reading. They weren't just soldiers. They were trackers. Traders. Diplomats. Enforcers. Each city had a traveler's rest stop—a basic lodging under royal subsidy. Clean. Safe. But strict: one night only. No loitering. No freeloading. No exceptions.
But what caught Rose off guard most of all was the system beneath it all.
There were no beggars in Euphorion.
None.
That wasn't just talk. She had visited towns. Walked their markets. She had looked for them—on purpose—and she hadn't found a single one. She asked the mayor of Ridan Town, thinking maybe the poor had been pushed out of the city centers.
The mayor had laughed.
"We don't do that here, Your Majesty," he said, tugging nervously at his sleeve. "Anyone without means is registered. Those with skills are given jobs based on their ability. Those without... well, we always need laborers. Construction. Sanitation. Roadwork. If they don't want to work, we feed them once. That's it. But next time, if we find him begging again, we'll throw them in jail. Alongside the criminals. There is no place for slackers in Euphorion."
"And the children?" Rose asked.
He gestured to the east wing of the city. "The orphanage takes them. Teenagers go to the Talent Halls. We assess them, find their strengths. Tailor their work or education accordingly."
"And the elderly?"
He didn't hesitate. "Nursing shelters, staffed by royal clerks and healers. Sometimes they assist with tutoring, if they're able."
It was a clean answer. Almost too clean. Rose had narrowed her eyes then, her voice sharper than usual. "And no corruption?"
The mayor paled slightly. "Not if we want to keep our heads, Your Majesty."
That was when she began to understand.
It wasn't just order. It was fear.
Angel hadn't just created a system—he'd weaponized it. He had taken his past—those early years riding across Asteria, stomping out bandits, seeing the waste of human lives left to rot in the gutters—and he'd built a kingdom where that didn't happen. Where every citizen had a place, a purpose. Or else.
And the nobles?
They obeyed.
Because they'd seen what happened to those who didn't.
Rose remembered the stories now. The ones that used to reach Zephyrus about the Black King of Euphorion. How he'd executed a baron publicly when he discovered a false tax report. How he'd personally ridden to a city that tried to bribe his officers and burned the corrupt ledgers in front of the guilty baron's hanged corpse.
Tyrant, they had whispered in her homeland.
Monster, said others.
But as she walked the clean, quiet cities, passed well-fed children and stable markets, watched teenagers filing out of the Talent Halls with tools and books in hand...
She saw something else.
Prosperity.
Real. Tangible. Earned.
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