The kingdom went broke on a Tuesday.
This detail mattered because Tuesdays were usually reserved for mild inconveniences—rain that arrived uninvited, a missing shipment of lemons, the occasional goat wandering into a bakery. Not catastrophic national despair.
But after paying Dravakar enough gold to make even the mountains feel wealthy, the royal treasury had developed a new personality trait:
It was empty.
Lord Halbrecht announced it in the council chamber with the exact tone one might use to inform a patient that their arm had fallen off.
"We are," he said slowly, eyes hollow, "financially compromised."
Aerin sat at the head of the table and blinked.
"…Compromised?" he repeated.
"Yes," Halbrecht said. "In the sense that there is no more money."
Merrowin sipped her tea calmly.
Master Orrick stared into the distance as if hoping the laws of economics would reverse out of pity.
Cassian looked offended on the kingdom's behalf.
Elira looked excited.
"Money is not real," Elira said. "We can simply take other people's."
"No," Aerin and Merrowin said at once.
Elira frowned. "That is strange logic."
Halbrecht slapped a ledger onto the table. "We paid away most of our reserves. We have enough for essential services—barely. No festivals. No extra guard pay. No repairs. No—"
He flipped a page dramatically.
"—no royal pastry budget."
Aerin gasped.
"Not the pastry budget," he whispered.
Cassian leaned over. "Your Majesty, stay strong."
Aerin grabbed the edge of the table. "We can recover. We just need to be… responsible."
Halbrecht's eye twitched. "Responsibility would have been useful before we paid Dravakar the gross domestic soul of our kingdom."
Aerin lowered his head. "I didn't want a war."
"And now," Halbrecht snapped, "we have an angry population instead."
Merrowin's fan snapped open.
"Angry is manageable," she said smoothly. "Violently angry is… less so."
The Harem Alarm hummed ominously, as if to say: You have unlocked a new difficulty level.
By the end of the week, the palace had become a very expensive prison.
Aerin learned this when he tried to take a walk.
He made it three steps outside the main doors before a court attendant sprinted toward him in a full panic.
"YOUR MAJESTY!" the attendant hissed. "You cannot go out there!"
Aerin blinked. "Why not?"
"Because," the attendant whispered, eyes wide, "the people are… expressing themselves."
Aerin frowned. "Expressing how?"
The attendant pointed.
Aerin leaned forward.
Down the palace steps, beyond the gates, a crowd had gathered.
Not the cute, supportive crowd that waved flags and threw flowers.
This crowd held signs.
Large signs.
Angry signs.
GIVE US BACK OUR MONEY
YOU PAID THEM WHAT?!
MY TAXES DIED FOR YOUR ROMANCE
MARRY THE MUSCLE LADY NOW
DOWN WITH THE HAREM ALARM
Aerin stepped back slowly.
"Oh," he said softly. "They're… upset."
Cassian appeared behind him, arms folded. "That's a polite word."
Aerin swallowed. "How bad is it?"
Cassian leaned forward and listened.
A distant shout carried up the steps.
"WHERE IS THE KING?! I JUST WANT TO TALK!"
Cassian grimaced. "That one has a rock."
Aerin's soul tried to leave his body.
"I'm not going outside," he decided immediately.
Elira popped up beside them like a shadow that had learned to speak.
"I can eliminate the rock-holder."
"No eliminating citizens," Aerin said.
Elira sighed deeply. "Your rules make ruling difficult."
Mira approached quietly, her expression uneasy.
"You can't hide forever," she said.
Aerin stared at her like she had suggested he wrestle a dragon.
"I can try."
He did hide.
For three days.
Every hour, the palace received complaints.
Tax collectors returned with bruises.
Merchants refused to deliver goods.
A bakery sent a letter that simply said:
WE ARE DISAPPOINTED IN YOU.
Aerin clutched it to his chest like it was a dagger.
"Not the bakers," he whispered. "They were on my side."
Halbrecht slammed another ledger down. "We need to calm them."
"How?" Aerin asked.
Merrowin smiled with the serenity of someone who enjoyed crises.
"We do what all monarchs do in hard times," she said.
Aerin leaned forward hopefully. "Yes?"
"We give a speech," Merrowin said.
Aerin went pale. "No."
"Yes," Merrowin insisted.
"No."
Cassian patted Aerin's shoulder. "You can do it."
Aerin looked betrayed. "You're supposed to protect me from this."
Cassian shrugged. "You need to develop."
Elira nodded. "Or die."
Mira sighed. "Or both, at this rate."
The Harem Alarm chimed once, as if applauding the chaos.
On the fourth day, Aerin attempted leadership.
He stood on the palace balcony, notes in hand, trembling like a leaf in a storm.
The crowd below roared as soon as they saw him.
"BOOO!"
"WHERE'S OUR GOLD?!"
"BRING BACK THE PASTRIES!"
Aerin swallowed.
He raised his hands.
"People of Aqura!" he shouted.
His voice cracked.
He cleared his throat and tried again.
"People of Aqura!" he said louder. "I hear you!"
"NO YOU DON'T!"
"I understand your frustration!" Aerin continued.
A tomato flew past his head.
He ducked.
"It was never my intention to harm the kingdom—"
Another tomato.
Cassian leaned close. "Maybe skip the words that sound like excuses."
Aerin nodded rapidly.
"I—uh—We paid Dravakar to prevent war," he said. "I know the cost was high. But I would do it again to protect you."
The crowd quieted slightly.
Aerin dared to hope.
Then someone yelled, "SO YOU'D RUIN US AGAIN?!"
Aerin panicked.
"No!" he shouted. "I mean—yes—no—"
The crowd surged.
Aerin stepped back from the balcony.
"I think… I made it worse," he whispered.
Merrowin nodded. "You did."
The Harem Alarm buzzed. Even it sounded disappointed.
That night, Aerin couldn't sleep.
He sat in the library with Mira, staring at the fireplace.
"They hate me," he said quietly.
Mira didn't immediately deny it.
She was honest like that.
"They're scared," she corrected. "And angry. But not hopeless."
Aerin rubbed his face. "I feel like a fraud."
Mira looked at him.
"You're not a fraud," she said gently. "You're… overwhelmed."
"That's worse."
She smiled faintly. "It's also human."
Aerin stared at his hands.
"I want to go outside," he said suddenly. "Not on a balcony. Not behind guards. Just… as me."
Mira's eyes widened. "That's dangerous."
Elira appeared behind a shelf instantly.
"It is extremely dangerous," she agreed. "I approve."
Aerin jumped. "WHY are you always in the library?"
"I like knowledge," Elira said. "And ambush points."
Mira sighed. "If you go outside, they might chase you."
Aerin nodded. "Probably."
Elira tilted her head. "I can chase them back."
"No."
Cassian entered like he'd been listening outside the door—which he probably had.
"If you go," he said, "you don't go alone."
Aerin frowned. "I don't want it to look like a show of force."
Cassian shrugged. "Then we go quietly."
Merrowin's voice drifted from the doorway. "You're going to do this now?"
Aerin flinched. "Yes."
Merrowin stared at him.
Then nodded once.
"Fine," she said. "But if you die, I'll haunt you."
They left through a side gate at dawn.
No banners. No music. No balcony.
Just Aerin in a simple cloak, Cassian nearby, Elira hidden in the shadows, Mira walking calmly beside him like she could domesticate disaster through sheer composure.
The streets were quiet at first.
Then someone saw him.
A fishmonger froze mid-swing, knife in hand.
"Is that…" the fishmonger whispered.
Aerin waved weakly. "Hello."
The fishmonger's face twisted.
"GET HIM!"
It spread like wildfire.
Shouts erupted.
Feet pounded.
Aerin's eyes widened.
"Oh no."
Cassian grabbed his arm. "Run."
Aerin ran.
He was good at this.
He ran through the market, cloak flapping dramatically behind him, dodging carts, leaping over baskets of apples like his life depended on it.
It did.
Behind him, a mob surged.
"PAY US BACK!"
"MAKE HIM MARRY THE MUSCLE PRINCESS!"
"WHERE ARE THE PASTRIES?!"
Aerin's lungs burned.
He turned a corner too fast—
—and his cloak snagged on a merchant's hook.
Time slowed.
His feet tangled.
His arms flailed.
Cassian shouted his name.
Mira screamed.
Elira vaulted from a rooftop.
Aerin fell.
He fell with the full commitment of a man who had never learned grace.
He hit the ground.
And slid.
Right into a puddle.
A very large puddle.
A puddle that was not water.
It was thick.
Black.
Shiny.
And it smelled… wrong.
Aerin blinked, face first in the mess.
"What… is this?" he wheezed.
The mob arrived.
Then stopped dead.
Silence.
Aerin lifted his head slowly, oil dripping from his hair and nose, looking like a tragic painting of regret.
Someone in the crowd whispered, "Is that… oil?"
Another voice replied, "That's not normal street oil."
A third voice screamed, "THE KING FOUND IT!"
Aerin froze.
"I—what?"
The crowd surged forward again, but this time not with anger—
With awe.
"He discovered oil!" someone yelled.
"He did it on purpose!" someone else cried.
"A SIGN FROM THE GODS!"
Aerin opened his mouth to deny it.
Cassian grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Do not," Cassian hissed. "Do not ruin this."
Mira stared at the puddle, stunned.
Elira crouched beside Aerin, sniffed the oil, and nodded solemnly.
"This is wealth," she declared. "You have fallen into prosperity."
Aerin sputtered. "I TRIPPED."
The Harem Alarm, somehow having followed them (as it always did), chimed from behind a cart.
A clear, bright sound.
DING!
The crowd erupted into cheers.
They lifted Aerin.
They actually lifted him.
Oil and all.
Aerin flailed. "PUT ME DOWN!"
They carried him through the streets like a hero, chanting:
"OIL KING! OIL KING!"
Aerin screamed in pure panic.
Mira laughed.
She tried not to.
Failed.
Cassian covered his mouth, shoulders shaking.
Elira looked proud, like she had personally planned this.
By noon, the palace was surrounded again.
But this time the signs were different.
OUR KING IS A GENIUS
OIL KING SAVE US
HE FELL FOR THE PEOPLE
WE LOVE YOU (PLEASE BATHE)
Master Orrick tested the oil.
He came running into the council chamber, eyes wild.
"It's real," he gasped. "A massive deposit. The kind that changes history."
Halbrecht dropped his ledger.
Merrowin's fan fell from her hand.
Cassian whispered, "You've got to be kidding."
Aerin sat on the floor because he still smelled like fate.
"I didn't mean to," he said weakly.
Merrowin stared at him.
Then slowly smiled.
"That," she said, "is the most effective leadership you've ever shown."
"I fell," Aerin whispered.
"Yes," Halbrecht said, dazed. "Into money."
The kingdom went from broke to hopeful in a single morning.
Merchants began negotiating.
Foreign powers sent polite letters.
The baker returned.
With cake.
And a note:
WE FORGIVE YOU.
Aerin wept.
That evening, Aerin stood on the balcony again, clean at last, staring out at a city that now cheered when he appeared.
Mira joined him quietly.
"You're a hero," she said, smiling.
"I'm a clumsy idiot," Aerin replied.
"Yes," she said. "But you're our clumsy idiot."
Aerin laughed softly.
"I thought they'd hate me forever," he admitted.
Mira leaned against the railing. "People are strange. They forgive when they feel hope."
Aerin hesitated.
"Mira," he said softly, "earlier… on the stairs…"
She froze.
The moment returned.
Her heart pounded.
She opened her mouth.
Then the Harem Alarm chimed quietly behind them.
Not warning.
Not urgency.
Just… encouragement.
Mira smiled.
"I'll tell you," she said. "Soon."
Aerin nodded, shy and hopeful.
Behind them, Elira stood guard—farther away than usual.
Trying.
Cassian leaned in the doorway, shaking his head in disbelief.
"A king," he muttered, "who trips into oil."
Merrowin's voice floated up from below.
"Make sure the historians write it as intentional!"
Aerin buried his face in his hands.
The city cheered.
And somewhere deep beneath the ground, fortune waited—found not by ambition…
…but by a cloak and a puddle.