Building a Modern Nation in a Fantasy World

Arthur sat at the head of the council chamber, eyes cold and voice devoid of warmth as the tall, broad-shouldered noble stepped forward.

"So you finally show yourself… Count Delric Vachiel," Arthur said, his tone flat but laced with disappointment. "You were summoned days ago."

Delric gave a courteous bow, but the tension in the air was unmistakable.

"I offer my sincerest apologies, Your Majesty," he said, his voice smooth, practiced. "The moment I received your summons, I made preparations to depart immediately. However, an urgent matter arose at the mines—one that required my personal attention. It could not be delegated."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Convenient," he said. "And yet, somehow you managed to appear today—on the final day of the time window you were given."

Delric stiffened slightly, choosing his next words carefully. "It was not my intent to disrespect your authority, Your Majesty. The mining operation suffered a sudden cave-in. We lost three workers, and production was halted for nearly two days. I stayed to oversee the rescue efforts and stabilize the site. Fortunately, the situation was brought under control in time for me to attend your summons."

Arthur leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving Delric's.

"And you expect me to believe there was no one else in your domain capable of handling the matter in your absence? Not a steward, not even a foreman?"

Delric didn't answer immediately.

Arthur's voice dropped, sharp and quiet.

"When a king issues a direct summons, it is not a request, Count Delric. It is an order. You may think yourself indispensable in your mines, but you would do well to remember that your title—and those mines—exist at my pleasure."

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.

Delric lowered his head further, voice measured but tight. "Understood, Your Majesty. I meant no defiance. It won't happen again."

Arthur gave a faint nod, though his tone remained cold. "See that it doesn't."

He let the silence stretch just a moment longer before speaking again—voice calm, but laced with an unmistakable edge.

"Now… the reason I summoned you is to ask about a particular matter in Iron Hearth. A name you've probably heard before—Iron Shield. A gang, or rather, an organization that seems far too organized to be dismissed as mere street thugs."

Delric visibly stiffened. A heartbeat later, he composed himself again, as if adjusting a mask.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he replied smoothly. "I've heard of them."

Arthur's expression didn't change. "Good. Then tell me—what do you know about them?"

Delric cleared his throat before answering, voice measured and rehearsed. "From what I've gathered, the Iron Shield is a criminal group operating in the shadows of Iron Hearth. They extort local vendors under the guise of collecting 'protection fees.' They're elusive, Your Majesty—highly secretive. From what little we've uncovered, they appear to be backed by considerable influence. Someone is shielding them."

He paused, then added with a touch of self-righteousness, "Naturally, I couldn't allow such lawlessness to spread unchecked. I've personally ordered efforts to root them out after reports reached me of their activities harming not only Iron Hearth but even affecting trade in my own lands. But it was not too successful"

Arthur kept his face impassive, but his thoughts churned beneath the surface.

What a cheeky bastard. He's spinning it like he's the hero cleaning up the mess… when he's likely the one financing the filth in the first place. Confident, too—he's speaking so boldly because he thinks we've got no proof. And unfortunately, he might be right.

Ken and the investigation unit had already delivered preliminary reports. Traces, rumors, and whispers all pointed toward Count Delric's involvement with Iron Shield. But none of it was solid—nothing actionable.

Arthur leaned back slightly in his throne, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. Then he spoke again, voice calm but layered with meaning.

"Yes, that aligns with what we've discovered as well. My investigators have done a bit of digging of their own. And like you said… the Iron Shield is difficult to trace, almost unnaturally so. But something else came up—something curious."

He paused deliberately, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing.

"Reports indicate the Iron Shield may be receiving financial support—not just from the shadows within Iron Hearth, but from noble houses. Some of them even appear to have indirect connections to foreign coin—possibly from rival kingdoms attempting to destabilize our trade routes. Did you know about that?"

Delric's eyes widened—an expertly crafted expression of shock, though Arthur could see the flicker of calculation behind it.

"I… was unaware of such developments, Your Majesty. That is deeply troubling. If such ties exist, then I've clearly underestimated the scope of their operation. I apologize for my failure. I will redouble my efforts to investigate more thoroughly."

Arthur offered a faint smile—not warm, not genuine, just enough to unsettle.

"There's no need to apologize, Count. After all, the duty to investigate isn't yours—technically."

He paused, then let his next words carry the weight of a subtle warning.

"However… I do hope that you're not one of the nobles involved in backing them. Because lately, the Iron Shield has grown bolder. More organized. More violent. And I would be gravely disappointed to discover that a man of your station was enabling such behavior."

Delric's posture stiffened. A flicker of something—fear, anger, guilt—flashed in his eyes before he bowed deeply.

"You can trust me, Your Majesty. I am not so low as to ally myself with criminals. I serve the Crown faithfully."

Arthur gave a curt nod, still watching him closely.

"Good. Since we're on the subject, I'd like to assign you a more direct role. As Count of the region, I expect you to oversee the effort to dismantle the Iron Shield. Work with the city guard. Restore order. Protect the people. Will that be a problem?"

Delric straightened and smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Not at all, Your Majesty. I would be honored to assist. Though, as I said, the Iron Shield is deeply entrenched. I may not be able to eliminate them outright, but I will ensure their reach is curtailed, and their influence over the people diminished. I will see to it personally that the crime rate falls."

Arthur inclined his head slightly.

"See that it does."

Outwardly, it was a simple assignment. A king delegating a task to a noble under his domain. But in truth, Arthur had no illusions about Delric's sincerity. He hadn't given the count this responsibility because he trusted him—far from it.

Arthur assigned Delric this task precisely because he suspected him.

It was a move layered in quiet strategy. By placing the count in charge of suppressing the very organization he was likely backing, Arthur was sending a message—I'm watching you. It was a calculated warning disguised as responsibility, forcing Delric into a position where any further chaos would fall squarely on his shoulders.

But there was a deeper reason as well—one not even Delric could see.

The kingdom's new law enforcement system, a cornerstone of Arthur's long-term reforms, was still in its infancy. The recruits were being trained, vetted, and organized into regional divisions. It would take time before they were ready to be deployed and operate independently. Until then, Arthur needed a stopgap solution.

Delric was that stopgap.

If Iron Shield struck again, Delric would take the blame. If they quieted down, then the pressure was working. Either way, the move would buy Arthur the time he needed to establish a modern, centralized authority free from noble manipulation.

And more importantly, now that Delric knew the king's eyes were on him, he would think twice before acting boldly again.

Just as Arthur was preparing to shift topics, Delric spoke again.

"Your Majesty," he said carefully, "if I may ask… is that the only reason you summoned me here?"

Arthur's expression remained unreadable. "Not quite."

He leaned back in his seat slightly, folding his hands in thought. "There's another matter I'd like to discuss—the situation in the mines. I've been hearing troubling reports."

Delric tensed, then quickly nodded. "Ah, yes. The cave-in. It was… unfortunate. A structural collapse in one of the older shafts. Three workers were lost, and operations halted temporarily while rescue teams cleared the debris and stabilized the tunnels. We've since resumed limited extraction."

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

"And what of the oversight?" he asked. "Was the collapse due to negligence? Old equipment? Lack of inspections?"

Delric hesitated. "It's still under review. I've instructed my men to conduct a full assessment, but initial findings suggest it may have been a natural shift in the rock formation."

Arthur gave a slow nod, not entirely convinced. "Very well. I expect a full report within the week."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Delric replied smoothly, bowing once again.

Arthur continued the conversation, steering it toward broader topics—asking about the economic state of Iron Hearth, the morale of its people, and the challenges of maintaining order in a region known for its volatility. It was less about the answers and more about watching how Delric responded—his expressions, his word choices, his deflections.

And Delric, responded with practiced ease. He praised the growth of trade, mentioned improvements in infrastructure, and spoke of recent patrol reinforcements—just enough detail to sound sincere, but never too specific to be pinned down.

Arthur listened carefully, offering only the occasional nod. Each question was a feeler, each response a thread. He wasn't just gathering information—he was measuring the man.

Eventually, the meeting drew to a close. Delric offered a final bow, his expression composed but guarded.

"If there's nothing else, Your Majesty, I shall take my leave."

Arthur gave a small nod. "Very well. Travel safely—and remember what we discussed."

"Of course," Delric replied. "You have my word."

As the count turned and made his way toward the chamber doors, Arthur watched him go in silence, eyes cold and unreadable.

After Delric departed, Arthur turned to Klein and asked, "How's the spy doing ?"