Chapter 25: The First Royal Examination
In the triumph aftermath of the civil war, the scent of blood had finally faded from the capital, replaced by the nervous, hopeful energy of reconstruction. The return of the victorious First Legion had been a cathartic celebration, a necessary release of tension for a populace that had teetered on the brink. But for Alexius, the victory was merely the clearing of a rotten foundation. Now, the true, arduous work of building something new in its place had to begin. Also, Monsters in the north are dying down with the help of reinforcements from 3000 Royal Army First Legion, commanded by Commander Bestiaus at Swordman Level, a former loyal knight commander under former Marquess, now Lord Marshal General Varrus. Because the north is stable now, Newly appointed Lord Minister of Internal Affairs, Duke Thorne has returned to the capital and started doing his jobs, codifying laws like criminal law, etc to be
approved by me and started training 1000 police forces that I explained which functions when he greeted in my solar as a custom and appointed Captain Marcus as the border Guard Forces General under the Ministry of Internal Affairs. Of course, Duke Thorne's job is only to manage and organize the functioning of the entire ministry but the final say is only me and me alone. The Prince's Highway project is continuing to do construction after the civil war that hindered the project. Paper production also expanded, even to the neighbouring countries, especially the Klian Empire's border nobles like it a lot. My Paper is a lot thinner and smoother to write the best quality in the entire continent.
Alexius sat in his solar, the grand chamber now less a place of leisure and more the command center of a nation. The cheers in the streets had died down, but the problems of the realm screamed silently from the shimmering blue interface of the System that only he could see. The only problem is.....
[Principality Management Overview]
Stability: 85% (High - Post-war consolidation)Treasury: 152,000 GL / 450,000 SS (Healthy - Bolstered by seized assets)Military Readiness: 55% (Moderate - First Legion veteran, Second Legion forming)Corruption Index: 68/100 (High - Systemic issues remain)Administrative Efficiency: 22% (Critically Low)
That last metric was the dagger at his throat. He had won the war, executed the traitors, and seized a third of the kingdom's land as direct Crown Territory. But who was to manage it? Who would collect the taxes, oversee the new highway's construction, and distribute the grain from the royal granaries? The old system relied entirely on hereditary nobles, and he had just proven that their loyalty was, at best, a commodity and, at worst, a lie.
Chancellor Elias stood before him, a list of names on a piece of parchment. "Your Majesty, with the lands of House Dynan and its allies now forfeit, we must appoint new administrators. I have prepared a list of minor nobles from loyal houses. The second son of Baron Thornecroft is said to be reasonably competent with numbers, and—"
"No," Alexius said, the single word cutting through the quiet room.
Elias blinked, surprised. "Your Majesty?"
"No more," Alexius clarified, his gaze fixed on the flashing red of the 'Administrative Efficiency' score. "We just fought a war because men believed their names entitled them to power. We will not rebuild my government using the same flawed materials. Appointing another lord's son, however loyal, just perpetuates the system that nearly destroyed us. Competence will not be a happy accident, Elias. It will be a requirement."
A revolutionary idea, born from the memories of a world half a universe away, began to take shape in his mind. A system where power was not inherited, but earned.
"I am dissolving the old provincial bureaucracy," Alexius declared, the decision solidifying as he spoke. "We will create a new civil service. The Royal Service of Leo. And entry into it will be open to everyone."
The Royal Decree that was proclaimed in every town square the following three days was an earthquake that shattered the remaining foundations of the old order. It announced the first-ever Royal Service Examination, to be held in the capital in one month. All subjects of the Crown—man or woman, human or non-human, highborn or low—were invited to participate. Positions as tax officers, works overseers, logistics officers, provincial scribes and even mayors of cities and towns were all on offer, with appointments granted based on nothing but the results of the test.
The remaining nobility reacted with apoplectic fury. They saw it as the ultimate insult, a declaration that a common merchant's daughter or, Gods forbid, a dwarf, an elf, and beastkins could be deemed more fit to govern than a man of noble blood. The common folk were a mixture of disbelief and filling with hope. It sounded too good to be true, but the King who had fed them and crushed the tyrants was the one making the promise. For the first time in centuries, a path to a better life that did not require a sword or a title had been opened to them.
Alexius, with Elias's pragmatic assistance, designed the examination himself. It was a tool of modern statecraft unleashed upon a feudal world. It consisted of three parts: a basic test of literacy and arithmetic, a section of logic puzzles and situational problems designed to test practical intelligence, and finally, specialized exams for different fields.
On the day of the examination, the Great Hall—the very same chamber that had been the stage for a bloody massacre months ago—was transformed. The tiered seats of the nobility were gone, replaced by hundreds of long wooden tables. The hall was filled with the scent of damp wool, nervous sweat, and the faint, sharp tang of fresh ink. The air itself was thick with the combined hopes and anxieties of nearly a thousand souls. At long tables arranged in neat rows, a cross-section of the entire kingdom hunched over sheets of Alexius's fine new paper, their brows furrowed in concentration. Sons of minor knights sat beside farmers who had taught themselves to read by candlelight. City merchants, hoping to leverage their practical knowledge, worked alongside quiet scholars who had rarely left their libraries. It was a silent, intellectual battlefield.
From a high gallery, concealed behind a latticed screen, Alexius watched the scene unfold, a profound sense of satisfaction settling over him. This was more important than any single military victory. This was the forging of a new social contract, written in ink and intellect rather than blood and steel. He saw not just a crowd, but individuals—the raw, untapped human (and non-human) resources of his kingdom.
His eyes, guided by a subtle System prompt that highlighted candidates with high Aptitude scores, drifted to a powerfully built dwarf in the engineering section. His name was Borgin Ironhand, a former builder slave freed from one of the raids of illegal slave houses. His hands, calloused and scarred from a lifetime at the forge, looked almost too large for the delicate quill he wielded. Yet, he moved it with an artist's precision. He wasn't just answering the questions; he was correcting them, sketching in the margins improved designs for aqueducts and notations on the tensile strength of different stone types. He had spent his life watching human lords build flimsy bridges and weak walls, his superior knowledge ignored because of his. Status and race. Today, on a simple sheet of paper, he was building a new, stronger Leo.
Not far away, a young woman named Elara, the daughter of a simple textile merchant, flew through the finance examination. Her sharp, intelligent eyes scanned the deliberately flawed ledgers Alexius had created for the test. Where others saw a confusing morass of numbers, she saw a clear, elegant pattern of fraud. Her quill moved in a blur, circling the ghost ledgers, underlining the false expenses, and calculating the true tax liability in a neat column at the bottom of the page. She worked with the fierce, focused joy of someone finally allowed to use a gift she had been told her whole life was unseemly for a woman.
In the logistics section, an old soldier named Corvin, his face a roadmap of old scars and his leg a wooden prosthetic, grunted as he worked. He wasn't a scholar, and his handwriting was a barely legible scrawl. But the situational problems—how to move a thousand tons of grain over a mountain pass with limited wagons, how to establish a supply depot in hostile territory—were not theoretical exercises to him. They were memories. He had solved these problems in the real world for thirty years while serving as a quartermaster. He wasn't writing essays; he was writing after-action reports.
And near the back, a quiet half-elf named Lyren endured the hostile glares of a few human candidates with placid grace. His focus was entirely on the section on law and governance. His answers were not just legally correct; they were nuanced, citing precedents from the founding of the kingdom that argued for a centralized, just authority—the very kind of authority Alexius was now building. He wasn't just seeking a position; he was seeking to validate his belief in a Leo that could be better, a Leo that had a place for him.
The week it took to grade the mountain of exam papers was a frantic, exhilarating time. Alexius, Elias, and a small, hand-picked team of the most trusted royal scribes worked tirelessly. For Alexius, it was like being a prospector who had struck the motherlode. Every paper revealed another nugget of talent, another mind full of potential that the old system had left to languish in obscurity.
When the final results were posted on a huge board in the People's Plaza, it caused a commotion. A crowd of thousands gathered, jostling to see the names. A wave of shock, then elation, then furious envy, rippled through the city. The name of a dwarf was listed above the son of a baron. A commoner's daughter had outscored every merchant's son. It was a public, undeniable declaration that the old rules were abolished and truly dead.
Alexius summoned the highest-scoring candidates to the throne room the following day. It was a strange procession that entered the grand hall—a dwarf in clean but practical leather, a young woman in a simple but well-made dress, an old soldier leaning on a cane, a half-elf with his head held high. They knelt before the throne, their hearts pounding.
Borgin Ironhand was called first.
"Master Ironhand," Alexius began, his voice echoing in the vast chamber. "My Chancellor informs me that your examination paper on structural engineering was less an answer and more a correction of the test itself. He says your designs for a cantilever bridge are unlike anything ever seen in this kingdom."
The dwarf grunted, a sound of gruff pride. "The old ways are wasteful, Your Majesty. Good stone, bad design. A waste of dwarven craft."
"Indeed," Alexius smiled. "The Prince's Highway is the single most important infrastructure project in this realm. It requires a master builder, not a titled amateur. I am naming you Royal Master of Works and Engineering, with full authority over the highway project and the refortification of our border keeps. Do you accept?"
Borgin looked up, his tough, bearded face cracking with stunned emotion. "I… Your Majesty… I am a dwarf. A former slave. I work with stone and iron."
"And you are the most qualified person in this kingdom for the job," Alexius stated firmly. "That is all that matters."
Borgin Ironhand slammed a calloused fist to his chest in a traditional dwarven salute, his voice a low, rumbling oath. "no one had recognized my talent in my entire life. Only you recognized me. Your Majesty. On my beard, I swear it. I will move mountains and build bridges that can even cross the heavens." by bowing, kneeling, and crying. "I trust the works with you Royal Master of Works and Engineering, Borgin." nodded.
One by one, he gave them their new roles. Elara was appointed as the Chief of the Royal Treasury department under Elias, with the specific task of designing and implementing a new, unified system of tax collection to eliminate fraud. Corvin, the old soldier, was named Chief of Army Logistics, a civilian post that would work alongside General Varrus. Lyren was given a position in the Chancellery, a junior role, but a crucial first step in integrating non-humans into the heart of the government.
That night, Alexius stood on the balcony of his solar, looking out at the peaceful lights of his capital. He had done it. With the Royal Army, he had broken the nobility's monopoly on violence. Today, with the Royal Service, he had shattered their monopoly on governance. He was not merely ruling the old Leo; he was building an entirely new state, one founded on the radical principles of competence and loyalty to the Crown, not to blood.
His new administrators—the dwarf, the merchant's daughter, the old soldier, the half-elf—owed him everything. Their loyalty would be absolute, for he was the source of their impossible rise.
A familiar blue screen shimmered in his vision.
[Administrative Efficiency: 22% -> 38% (Projected to increase to 55% as new civil servants implement reforms).] [National Stability: Increased.] [New Trait Gained: [Meritocratic Ruler] – Significant bonus to loyalty from all non-noble government appointees. ]
The old guard would smolder with resentment, he knew. But they were becoming the relics of a past he was systematically erasing. He was building a machine of state that no longer needed them.
His gaze drifted south, towards the border. The Papal Legate, Cardinal Alistair Beaumont, confronted him in the last three weeks, although the negotiation outcomes are acceptable the information he got from the Cardinal Beaumont are unsettling. He said to himself "I only have limited time. The south will move soon." (Continue.....)