The Princess' Harem
Chapter 130: Financial Crisis

Chapter 130: Financial Crisis

Far from the rebuilt walls of Elysia, in a chamber shrouded in obsidian, Count Lazarus allowed himself a slow, chilling smile. News traveled even faster than his most dedicated spies, especially news of destitution.

Elysia, victorious yes, but crippled, a kingdom left with deep, festering wounds. The recent, costly victory had drained them, leaving their coffers empty, their granaries bare, their people hungry, despite the fading cheers.

This was a vulnerability, vast, and gaping, a fissure he could exploit, oh, so elegantly, like a surgeon’s precise cut.

"They saved their crumbling kingdom," Lazarus murmured, swirling dark, potent wine in a goblet that seemed to absorb all available light. The liquid, thick and claret, clung to the glass as he contemplated.

"But at what unbearable cost, precisely? They revel in their survival, blind, truly, to the more profound, the lingering wound that now afflicts them." His eyes, cold and hard, and calculating, gleamed with a predatory delight.

"A kingdom desperate for stability, for an immediate influx of tangible wealth, for any kind of clear direction. And a young princess, hailed, quite loudly, as a hero, yet still, fundamentally, unmarried, without an heir, without true power."

He paused, a flicker of irritation crossing his features before it smoothed into a more amused contempt. "And I hear," he added, a dry, almost mocking chuckle escaping this throat, "she has begun gathering her... chosen companions in that ridiculous old Imperial Palace. A ’harem’ for a princess without a husband, how utterly scandalous, how deliciously unorthodox."

He scoffed, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. "A petty defiance of tradition, nothing more. A childish move to garner attention and loyalty, easily undone, easily turned to my advantage when the time comes. Such sentimentality will be her undoing, a weakness I can easily exploit."

His smile widened, a slow, cruel, knowing twist of his thin lips. "The common folk, so fickle in their affections, will soon turn their adoration into desperate, hungry cries. The nobles, ever pragmatic, ever self-serving, will quickly seek a solution, a swift path out of this financial abyss. And who better than a wealthy, influential Count, with deep, far-reaching connections throughout the entire empire, to offer a generous hand in marriage to their beloved, their celebrated savior? And with that hand, a clear, direct path to the throne, to true, undeniable authority."

The very thought of Viana, now so widely celebrated, becoming his queen, ruling, but only under his subtle, unbreakable influence, sent a deliberate shiver of preserving pleasure through his cold, calculating mind.

"The true game, Princess, the final, decisive engagement, has only just begun. And this time, you won’t even see my hand, you won’t even perceive the strings I pull."

Back in Elysia, the initial, intoxicating euphoria of victory had begun its slow, inevitable wane, replaced by the stark, the gnawing reality of an entirely emptied treasury. The celebration, so loud and vibrant, had been fueled by desperate relief, but true, sustainable prosperity remained a distant, elusive dream.

The city, though slowly, painstakingly rebuilding, still bore deep, ugly scars. Its once bustling markets were quieter, its merchants struggled, their faces drawn with worry.

Trade routes, once vibrant arteries of commerce, were slow, painfully slow, to recover, and the common people, though grateful, felt the constant, unrelenting pinch of scarcity.

Children played in the street, but their laughter often seemed to echo against the hollow emptiness of hunger.

Viana understood this economic reality more acutely, more painfully, than anyone else. Her new home, the sprawling, magnificent Imperial Palace, was grand and undeniably beautiful.

Yet, its very upkeep, its sheer, immense size, was a silent, relentless drain on the kingdom’s already depleted resources.

It was a powerful symbol, a beacon of hope, but even symbols needed constant sustenance, a steady flow of coin and provisions.

She spent her days not in leisure, not in enjoying her hard-won peace, but hunched over dusty ledgers, her brow furrowed in deep, troubled concentration.

Arden Daelis, her newly appointed tutor and economic advisor, sat opposite her, his keen, analytical mind dissecting, piece by agonizing piece, the kingdom’s dire, unprecedented financial state.

"The blight, Your Highness, a truly insidious affliction, devastated our agricultural output for a full, lost season," Arden explained, tapping a quill with a precise rhythm against a worn ledger.

"Combined with the astronomical cost of the war itself, the devastating loss of trade during the prolonged siege, and the necessary, immediate rebuilding efforts... we are facing a truly unprecedented deficit, the largest in Elysian history. Every single coin desperately spent on reconstruction is, regrettably, a coin we simply do not have for our immediate, pressing needs."

Viana traced a slender finger over a column of alarming, blood-red numbers. Her heart felt heavy, burdened by the sheer scale of the problem.

"So, how do we, realistically, bring lasting prosperity back? How do we break free from this relentless cycle of crushing poverty before the people’s hard-won hope, and my parents’ rapidly dwindling patience, entirely run out?"

She could still clearly picture Lazarus’s smug, calculating face, the insidious whispers of his vast, shadowy network. She knew, with chilling certainty, that this financial vulnerability was precisely, absolutely what he would exploit, what he would use to tighten his grip.

Arden paused, his gaze thoughtful, his mind already spinning through complex equations. "It requires a multi-pronged approach, Your Highness, a truly comprehensive strategy. Short-term relief for the immediate, agonizing suffering of the people, coupled with long-term, carefully considered investment for sustainable, lasting growth."

He paused, making sure if the princess understood his words. But she was listening to him, as if she understood them, and she pressed on. "Go on."

Arden nodded and continued. "We need to actively encourage robust trade, revitalize our devastated farmlands, and, most importantly of all, find powerful, new sources of reliable revenue that are not easily controlled, not easily manipulated by external, hostile forces."

Viana nodded, her jaw set with grim determination. "New sources. Such as, pray tell?"

"Our mineral wealth, perhaps largely untapped, or significantly under-utilized, holds immense potential," Arden suggested, his eyes brightening with intellectual fervor.