“My advice is, never do tomorrow what you can do today. Procrastination is the thief of time.” — Charles Dickens, David Copperfield

  ???

  Before the situation could escalate, there was a sigh from Yuliana Nightray, and she spoke, her voice cutting through the tension.

  “If you think we’re exaggerating or lying about the situation, I invite you to take a walk outside the capital,” Yuliana Nightray spoke, and the hall grew quiet. Even Lord Kael ceased his struggling as every pair of eyes in the hall landed on the Nightray heiress. Her smile was cold and her eyes even colder, as she crossed her arms under her bosom. “But I won’t be able to guarantee that you will be able to return to the Imperial City alive.” Her eyes grew colder, and her smile even more so. “Want to take on this challenge?”

  The noble who had spoken grew pale, his gaze dropping to the table in front of him, unable to meet with the eyes of Heiress Nightray. He mumbled something that no one could hear, looking as if he wanted to disappear into his chair.

  Lord Arden Valemire snorted. “Thought not,” he muttered, though his voice was loud enough to carry across the hall. “Though now I understand why those in the Imperial City are so Goddess-damned blind or na?ve to the situation outside. You refuse to even believe what is being reported in our national paper as the truth, preferring to live in your own personal bubble. Little wonder why the Crown Prince is as clueless as he is, if you lot have been feeding him your lies for years.”

  Rem flinched as half the room turned their gazes toward him.

  “If it isn’t clear enough, our people in the various regions across the kingdom need immediate help,” Lady Elenya spoke, her voice like steel, and her cold blue eyes sweeping across the room. “We, the Ten Great Houses, have been funding recovery efforts out of our private treasuries, but even we can’t do much without the support of the Crown. Our people are dying! What would it take for you to render aid to the people outside the capital?!”

  No one dared to meet the judgmental stares of the lords and ladies of the Ten Great Houses.

  “Even I haven’t been able to see much of what lies in store,” Lady Maris spoke next, and everyone turned to the head of House D’Aragon. It is common knowledge that she was born with the gift to see the future, though she can’t always control it. “The paths ahead of us are murky and unclear. It’s like I always said. A split-second decision that someone makes can change the future. The future isn’t always set in stone, as I realised long ago. A split-second decision can create several new paths. And right now, all I’m seeing in Alathia’s future are death and destruction if we don’t change the path that the kingdom is on.”

  There were murmurs from several of the Parliament members in attendance.

  “If Lady D’Aragon is saying it…”

  “That means The Alathian Times isn’t lying? Were things really that bad?”

  “The reports weren’t lies?”

  “That can’t be true…”

  Baron Aldren Veylor, undeterred, spoke again. “So you’re suggesting that we let the capital go without? And what, divert fundings from the other departments like the merchant guild, alongside several others, just to ensure that your people don’t go without?” His eyes, however, flickered towards the Finance Minister nervously. From the Great Houses’ table, Yulia narrowed her eyes.

  “And what about the people outside?” Lord Kael demanded dangerously, his eyes flashing. “You lot keep talking about taxes and roads and bloody business permits. But what is the point of a thriving capital when half the kingdom is dying?!”

  Lord Hunt nodded with agreement. “Our people are dropping like flies. Our soldiers, especially!” There were murmurs of grim agreement from the military commanders in attendance. “Black market auctions and criminal activities are practically taking place out in the open, and we neither have the budget nor the clearance thanks to Parliament! Because you lot are taking your own sweet time to ‘investigate’!”

  Finally, Rem spoke. His voice was soft, but it carried clearly across the hall. And for once, he spoke with steel in his voice and authority, speaking like the man who was groomed to rule and lead the kingdom.

  “When I granted Parliament the power of state six years ago, it was to help the kingdom. The entire kingdom,” Rem said, his gaze scanning the room. “I was young and na?ve, then, and I deem it a necessity. Now, I see that I should have taken the advice of Lord Merren and Heiress Nightray. It was a mistake letting this body have as much power as they did.”

  Deadly silence filled the room. No one dared to even breathe too loudly.

  Rem leaned forward on his elbows. “The Crown will aid the people of Alathia. All of them. I don’t care even if we have to post notices in every Goddess-damned district in the Imperial City to tell them why we’re going without certain things for an undetermined period, or even if we have to send out the court criers to let the people know the reasons why, as it is apparent they don’t trust what they read in the national paper.” He paused. “We’ll help everyone,” Rem said again. “From the capital to the border towns and villages, and from the lords to the farmers. This applies to the rural districts in particular, especially the ones in the Northern Holds, who are the most at risk from raiders and bandits, considering what happened to Caer Morden, Greyhollow, and Blackridge.”

  Lord Kael said nothing, but his eyes flickered with mild surprise as his gaze fell on Yulia, and then back to Rem. Even the rest of the lords and ladies of the Ten Great Houses were silent. Half of them still looked at Rem with doubt, but they seemed to be watching his next move.

  “Infrastructure and taxes can wait. Roads, market stalls, and even buildings can wait. As are any research projects. Funding will be diverted from the merchant guilds and even Research and Development to the military branches, as well as the hospitals and clinics, and even any independent doctor already working in the field.”

  His voice rang clear with finality.

  “The Crown will divert funding and distribute food to the various regions. That comes first. Medical funding and military resources will be prioritised. Food comes first.” Rem paused, his gaze unwavering. “The only thing that can’t wait is people’s lives!”

  For several long moments, there was nothing but silence.

  Several of the merchants, Parliament officials, ministers, and even the nobility from the capital exchanged uncomfortable looks. They weren’t used to seeing Prince Rem being this assertive and firm when they were used to being the ones in charge.

  This wasn’t the soft-spoken Crown Prince they were used to.

  The lords and ladies of the Ten Great Houses, however, and even the military commanders, exchanged contemplative looks. Even the Protectorate soldiers stationed throughout the hall, and the two members of the Crownsguards on duty exchanged quiet looks of interest.

  “…If the Crown Prince can stand his ground, then I might just have some respect for him,” One Protectorate soldier murmured to his partner in a voice low enough for only the two of them to overhear.

  “Shh!”

  Near the table of the Great Houses, Cassian Hunt shot his subordinate a warning look.

  From one of the middle rows, one of the wealthier merchants looked displeased and even annoyed. “…What does it matter if one or two civilians die, anyway?” he muttered, but the words carried clearly across the hall.

  Yulia had been staying silent throughout everything, watching Rem contemplatively, and the Crown Prince had fought the urge to not fidget under her gaze. This Parliament session was also a test, Rem knew. A test from not just Yulia, but also Gaius. Neither of them had interfered much, both choosing to watch what he would do, and what decisions he would make.

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  That was why they have remained largely silent.

  Now, however, Yulia’s gaze snapped towards the merchant who had spoken, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “What was that?” she questioned sharply. Every single pair of eyes in the hall turned towards the Nightray heiress. “Do you want to repeat that?”

  The merchant, a man with gilded cuffs and far too many rings on his pudgy fingers, apparently has no fear of death, as he rose to his feet arrogantly. Those seated around him nearly have their heads in their hands. A few in the back rows were even murmuring prayers to the Goddess for the foolish merchant.

  “I said,” The merchant repeated loudly, “what does it matter if one or two peasants die? The people serve us. Not the other way around!”

  The room froze.

  Even most of those seated around the merchant were looking at him with horrified expressions. The military commanders looked murderous. More than one of them had their hands on the pommels of their swords.

  Even the Protectorate soldiers looked furious, with some of them even reaching for their swords, before Lord Hunt barked, “Hold!” He rose to his feet again, his gaze sweeping around the chamber, warning his soldiers not to move with his eyes. Cassian murmured a command to the soldier next to him, who nodded, moving discreetly toward the table of the merchant guild. “Let him speak.” Lord Hunt almost growled, his voice low and dangerous, causing a ripple of unease to sweep around the room. “I think we’ve got a severe misunderstanding about what it means to govern.”

  Lord Hunt looked around the chamber, his gaze heavy with judgment. Majority of the room lowered their gazes to the tables in front of them, unable to meet Lord Hunt’s gaze. “Let me make it very clear to every man and woman sitting in this chamber. The Crown doesn’t rule by divine right. Parliament doesn’t rule by coin. We rule because the people allow us to. We serve them, not the other way around.” He paused, exhaling. “We were placed here to protect them. To serve them. Defend them. And if this body forgets that, then they deserve the gallows no less than any tyrant who came before us.”

  Lady Rovaryn watched the merchant coldly, her arms crossed over her chest. “I lost my husband in the war,” she said coldly. “He fought to protect the people. Our people. To give them a future. As did every single soldier who died in that war, and for Alathia. You just spat on all their sacrifices like it was nothing.” Lady Rovaryn rose to her feet, the movement drawing the eyes of every single person in the hall. “Even the late king and queen gave their lives in that war. Are you suggesting that they are beneath you?”

  The merchant paled. “N-No, that’s not what I meant—” His beady eyes went towards Prince Rem in desperation, with the Crown Prince being unusually still.

  Lord Idris Velastra, the lord of the desert steppes of Alathia, spoke for the first time, having observed the proceedings since the start of the Parliament session. The lord of Blackmere Hollow leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes fixed on Rem.

  “Your Highness, I believe we’ve heard quite enough,” he said simply, his deep voice carrying clearly across the hall. “This is your Parliament. Your kingdom. You are our future king. This body holds the power it does today because you gave them that. Now is your time to choose.” Lord Velastra leaned back in his chair. “Make your decision. Do you stand with them? Or do you want to save your people?” His smile was cold. “Choose.”

  The gazes of every single person in the room, even those of the Protectorate soldiers and the Crownsguards, looked toward the prince.

  Rem met Yulia’s gaze, but for the first time in years, he didn’t waver. He knew that his decision was the correct one. He knew what he had to do.

  And he also knew that this Parliament session was Yulia’s test for him. The one that would determine whether he would ever be worthy in her eyes. And this decision, as Lord Velastra said, is also Rem’s ultimate test—to judge if he’s indeed the king that Alathia needs.

  And if Rem failed Yulia’s test right here, he knew that he would lose her forever.

  Rem shook his head slowly. “My decision stands,” he declared, his voice carrying clearly across the hall. “The Crown will help the people. All of them. We’ll divert funding from the guilds, and even Research and Development, to the military departments, medical resources, and food.” Rem turned to Gaius, who stood quietly next to him. “Gaius, please organise a team to ensure that those supplies are distributed evenly, and reach every single village and town outside the capital. Prioritise those in immediate need. Liaise with each military branch and even the Medical Board.”

  Gaius nodded solemnly, already scribbling into his notepad. “I would like to coordinate with the lords and ladies of the Ten Great Houses after this session to ensure that every region receives what they need,” he replied. From the Great Houses’ table, every single one of them nodded. Most have looks of relief visible on their features.

  “I can connect Lord Merren with the head of the Medical Board,” Lady Rovaryn offered, her voice steady. House Rovaryn, after all, was renowned throughout Alathia for its medical expertise. The majority of doctors and nurses in the kingdom had, at some point, trained under a physician employed by House Rovaryn. They even owned most of the clinics and hospitals across Alathia.

  “That’ll be appreciated, my lady,” Gaius inclined his head to Lady Rovaryn respectfully. “I’ll also be reaching out to the military commanders within the next week.” He added, his gaze flickering towards the table where the military commanders sat behind the Great Houses, and they nodded in response.

  The Grand Parliament Hall, however, wasn’t staying silent or idle in the wake of Rem’s proclamation. Though the Great Houses and the military commanders looked relieved that aid was finally being rendered, most of Parliament’s officials, and even the merchants, as well as the minor nobility, looked enraged or even fearful.

  “You can’t do that to us!” One noblewoman from the capital’s delegation cried, rising to her feet, her expression livid.

  Before anyone could respond, Yulia gave a rude scoff. “Frankly, I think it’s long overdue,” she said, her voice thick with disdain, and there were nods from the other lords and ladies of the Great Houses. “And let’s make one thing clear.” She rose to her feet slowly, with the movement drawing the eyes of the rest of the room. “Madam, he is your prince and your future king, not your friend. You answer to him, not the other way around. If Prince Rem wished it, he could quite easily strip you of your noble title, and cast your entire family from the capital and into the streets, and not a single one of us would be able to do or say anything.” Half the room paled, with the woman falling back into her seat, ashen-faced. “Luckily, for you, that is, Prince Rem is not a tyrant.”

  “And let’s not forget that the kingdom of Alathia is still a monarchy,” Lord Grimalde added, a flicker of amusement visible in his eyes. “This body exists to advise and support the king, not dictate what he does, or govern the realm without his knowledge. If we’re being honest, Parliament’s actions, or shall I say, inactions, are bordering on treason.”

  Faces around the hall paled. But the mutterings and murmurs have yet to die down. The ministers, however, normally amongst the loudest voices in Parliament sessions, were unusually silent, unwilling to draw attention. Yulia’s gaze flickered towards the Finance Minister, but he refused to look up from the table.

  “Your Highness, please be reasonable,” Baron Veylor pleaded, his face slick with sweat. “The people in the capital would riot if their needs aren’t seen to—”

  “And the people outside the capital,” Lord Valemire cut in darkly, his voice low and cold, “are on the verge of something worse: bloody murder.”

  A hush fell over the chamber.

  “It’s not just the Northern Holds that are facing problems,” Lord Valemire’s gaze swept the room. Majority of the people were unable to meet with his gaze, choosing to stare instead at the tables in front of them. “It’s all of us. Every single noble house. Not just the Ten Great Houses. We’re all facing the same damn problem! Food shortages, medicine running dry, people dying from diseases that we know how to treat, if only we had the right medicines. And for some regions, the lack of clean water! And you want them to die out there just so the people in the capital can keep living in comfort?!”

  Half the room jumped when Lord Valemire slammed his hand down onto the table.

  “Since I doubt that most of you here have even bothered to open the paper in months, if not years, or skimmed through the pages that you didn’t like, allow me to fill you in on what is actually going on out there, especially in the rural areas,” Yulia snapped, her voice cold and sharp. “People are so desperate that they are eating rats or even carrion meat just to stave off hunger!” Half the room turned green. “Families are so desperate that they’re either selling their children or even bartering limbs for food! Our soldiers, who survived the war, are now dying in border skirmishes or even bandit attacks because Parliament slashed their rations and never replaced their gear.” She exhaled. “Our people are on the verge of rioting. Is this what you want? A Goddess-damned civil war not even a decade after the end of the last war?”

  Faces around the room paled drastically. The war with Nuvelle still lingered in the memories of those present. No one wanted to see another war break out in Alathia, especially not a civil war.

  “And a civil war, ladies and gentlemen, is going to happen if you continue ignoring the people,” Lady Rovaryn added, her voice flat and unforgiving.

  “Surely you exaggerate,” said one particularly arrogant councillor with a condescending wave. “I admit things probably hadn’t been easy for the rural provinces, but things can’t be as bad as you make them sound—”

  SLAM!

  Half the room jumped when Lord Kael slammed a thick stack of folders and parchment onto the table. At the far end of the Great Houses’ table, Lady Maris once again hastily steadied the precarious tower of documents.

  “Our statements from the soldiers weren’t enough? Or the articles in The Alathian Times? You want proof?”Lord Kael growled. “Here! Reports from the last six years. Reports and photos of what had been happening in the kingdom since the war with Nuvelle ended. Border skirmishes. Starvation. Outbreaks. And from the Northern Holds, two dozen in Darrenshade were dead in just a week last winter because they couldn’t even afford the firewood to keep warm! And not forgetting that three villages in my lands were wiped out less than two weeks ago because I didn’t have enough soldiers left to defend them! Because this Parliament wouldn’t fund the garrisons. And now you’re debating road maintenance of all things while people are burying their children?!” He thundered. “We have villages constantly under threat from raiders and bandits, and getting wiped out because our men couldn’t get there in time! Shall I go on?”

  One of the merchants had turned pale so drastically that Rem briefly wondered if her heart might give out. “T-Things can’t be as bad as it is…” she stammered. “J-Just because they can’t afford food from the capital—”

  “When entire villages and towns can’t afford basic necessities like food and medical supplies, that’s not just a problem,” said Lady Rovaryn, her voice icy cold. “That’s a kingdom failing its people.”

  A councillor muttered with disdain just then, though his voice carried clearly across the room. “This is all political theatre. You noble houses just want more coin for your lands. You’re just trying to manipulate the prince—”

  The sound of a blade sliding from its sheath caught everyone’s attention.

  Yuliana Nightray was on her feet, one hand on the hilt of her black blade, half-drawn, the edge gleaming darkly in the chamber’s light. Her face was blank, but it was the expression in her eyes that made half the room wonder if there would be a funeral planned after the Parliament session, and one less member to their numbers.

  “Say that again,” she said, her voice dangerously low. “Go on. I dare you.” The councillor swallowed nervously, falling back into his chair. “Suggest that we would manipulate the Crown again, and your head will roll to the ground.”

  Gasps erupted like hissing fires across the room. The Protectorate soldiers and the Crownsguard didn’t flinch. Neither did the military commanders or the Ten Great Houses. Several of them even looked approving. Lord Hunt, for instance, looked as if he would gladly help Yulia in removing a few heads.

  Yulia sheathed her blade with a soft click, her gaze blazing. “My House made an oath to the von Aubere royal house with the inception of this kingdom centuries ago,” she said. “We swore to protect the members of the royal family. And not just that. The Ten Great Houses swore fealty to the Crown. We didn’t swear to this body. Not to Parliament. Not to you. But to the kingdom. We would no sooner guide the Crown wrong than we would abandon our people.”

  Silence reigned in the room. Finally, Rem sighed before speaking again, his voice steady and ringing with authority, carrying clearly across the room. “My decision stands,” he said firmly. “The kingdom’s resources would be redirected to the military, medical aid, and to feed the people of Alathia. All of them. The capital will survive on less. Because there are places in this kingdom that have nothing. And my lords and ladies…” Half the room flinched when Rem leaned slightly forward, his gaze thunderous. “If you think that a starving child or someone dying from starvation and diseases that we have been able to treat for decades is not an issue, then you don’t belong here.” He exhaled. “This is the decision of the Crown.”

  Several moments of long silence reigned. Then, finally, General Thorne, having stayed silent until now, spoke. “For the first time in ten years,” he said, his voice sombre, but also carrying a note of pride when he looked at Rem, “you’re finally sounding like a king, Your Highness. And may I say that it is about damn time.”