73 The World of Klaus (1/2)
By the time the officials and king snapped out of their stupor, the messenger was long gone. Ignoring the sycophants, Klaus' cold-blue eyes locked on Erik, and while the duke stood several meters away from him, the king still quivered to no end.
”Y-you're back? M-my good nephew, g-good to see, g-good t-to s-” Erik stuttered, but as his broken words struggled to leave his lips, Klaus raised one hand, and the king dared not speak further.
”Enough. Uncle, I've already told you that I don't want your throne. But as a monarch, even a tributary ruler, how can you so easily forget your dignity? You're not just one man, your face represents our state. If you can't even keep your back straight in your palace, perhaps we do need another ruler,” Klaus half-joked. As the ”son” of Otto von Karsten—the king's cousin and former Duke of Kars—Klaus was Erik's maternal nephew.
In his early years, Erik treated him with a gentle elder's care. He was the type of man everyone wanted as a relative, but none would ever entrust important duties to. A fatuous, self-indulgent king, the 63-year-old monarch had yet to realize that his ”beloved wife” was the reason why he'd have to pass down his throne to his daughter. Men like Erik convinced Klaus that hereditary and absolute power could not build healthy states. The Arcadian Empire could afford it because of the von Skolls' might, but was it healthy? Of course not.
Shaken by Klaus' joke, Erik clenched his throne's arms as tight as he could, mustering his full strength to not collapse on the ground. ”I...can abdicate, if you want. Our f-families intermarried for generations. I'm sure we can fabricate a claim to let you inherit. J-just say the words,” Erik offered. As a High Emissary, he shouldn't have looked older than 40. Alas, the weight of a crown he could no longer endure wrinkled his face.
In less than ten years, he buried his five sons, some of whom he was forced to execute by circumstances he couldn't control. His queen spent the majority of her time in the distant academy, not even bothering sending him words or answering his messages.
As a king, Erik had many faults, but as a father and husband, he tried his best. On the day he wedded Esther, he gave up his official mistresses. Although he kept their status in name to avoid shaming them or his sons, he never touched them again. For Esther, he ignored state matters, did all he could to make her smile, but only received the same apathetic gaze.
To obtain her hand, he exhausted one-tenth of the state's treasury. For her love, he gave up the rest. Though he knew her heart lay with another man, he restrained his fears. Rupert killed the man to avoid scandals, but claimed it was for Erik's sake. Knowing he shared the blame, Erik didn't dispute.
Now he sat on an empty treasury, with one child left out of six, and fear ruling his life. What use did the crown have for him? And why would he let it fall on his only daughter's head? To have her live the rest of her life as Klaus' puppet? No, the blood of those 8,000 northern tribesmen, of Otto and the other von Karsten heirs, proved one thing: Klaus…was too ruthless.
They might as well abdicate.
But as if reading through Erik's thoughts, the duke stepped forward, and faster than the king's eyes could follow, crossed the hall to land before him.
”Fine. Then today, let's make history. As I leave to handle the invaders, you will promulgate a royal decree that creates me Grand Chancellor and officially surrenders the crown's authority to me. I will draft a new bill of rights, suppress the aristocracy, reform the government, and build a state run by competence instead of bloodline. The state will in turn allow you—and all succeeding monarchs—to live your lives in prestige and luxury—granted you don't intervene in its matters.” While Klaus didn't believe in absolute monarchy, a democratic republic or meritocracy didn't hold that much appeal to him either.
In his eyes, all three were defective. At their worst, absolute monarchies fostered generations of abuse and incompetence, democratic republics led to constant squabble among conflicting political parties, and meritocracies bred elitism.
But for his vision of the revolutionary state, Klaus aimed to incorporate elements of the three, and with what little time he had left, make Orloth his testing ground. In success, Arcadia would have a new option. In failure, his successors would learn from his mistakes and build something stronger.
Unable to challenge Klaus' words, Erik bowed in submission. Satisfied, the Duke of Kars spun and vanished from the court hall, leaving behind dozens of restless officials and their king-in-name.
…
At the border between Orloth and the Arcadian Empire, a 60 meters long, dark-blue aircraft hovered overhead amidst 720 fighters. The average man could never expect that an aircraft of that size hid an army of over 800,000 men, ready to pillage its way through Orloth's 160 million lives.
Dark-blue mist swirled around the aircraft, projecting the invaders' daunting presence to the border tribes and beyond. From the cold north to the capital, all could see that nightmarish image that presaged nothing but slaughter. In a flash, chaos filled Orloth.