The summoned man stepped forward without waiting for permission, as though the call had not been an invitation but a written procedure. Not a trace of surprise or hesitation appeared on his face; he was satisfied... not with pride in the position, nor gratitude for being chosen, but with the practical satisfaction of a man transferred from one duty to another that simply carried a broader scope.
He was Julian Stern, formerly the Chief Judicial Inspector, now the highest executive authority of the law in the border provinces. A man who did not see justice as a moral virtue, but as a function, for to him the law was not a collection of texts to be interpreted, but orders to be carried out.
He wore a dark robe devoid of any noble insignia, as though his office required no prestigious lineage to honor it, only results to justify it. His footsteps were steady and measured, carrying neither display nor intimidation; they were the steps of a man accustomed to entering halls to conclude cases, not to begin debates.
The moment he appeared, the atmosphere in the hall shifted. Some nobles straightened in their seats, others averted their eyes, while a silence settled over the room—a silence born not of respect, but of caution. The man standing before them was not a politician who could be swayed, but a judge renowned for treating people the same way he treated case files: facts, evidence, and judgment.
His name had begun stirring unease in the capital years ago, particularly when a certain lord attempted to buy his silence with an enormous bribe to clear his son of a murder charge. Julian not only refused the bribe, but turned it into material evidence and used it to open a case that ended with both the lord and his son being convicted in a single hearing. The son was executed for murder, while the father was sent to trial on charges of corruption. Shortly before that, Julian's own son had stood before him as the accused. He requested no delay, sought no pardon, but presented the evidence with his own hands and delivered the verdict as though the defendant were a complete stranger.
He was just... and that was precisely why no one found him comforting.
From the day he earned the reputation of being the righteous judge, his very existence became intolerable to the aristocracy, especially as his fame continued to grow during the reign of the Thirteenth Emperor. He enforced the law without favoritism and without room for negotiation, supported by the people and endorsed by several nobles, among them the Duke of the South. It was something the feudal order was never prepared to endure for long, especially while the Empire itself was collapsing.
Since removing him outright would have been an admission of their own corruption, they chose the more elegant solution: transferring him to a distant, impoverished, chaotic border province.
It was exile in all but name. Julian offered no objection... he simply went. Even if he had no real choice, he walked there with his dignity intact, five years ago during the reign of the Fourteenth Emperor.
Within only five years, the smuggling networks disappeared, criminal organizations were dismantled, and the forgotten province became the most orderly region along the frontier. He refused to let cases pile up or give corruption the time to grow. There... the people gave him a title the state never did:
"The Executioner."
It was not a title he earned because he was cruel by nature, but because he believed that delayed justice was another form of corruption. The principle he never abandoned, regardless of office or place, remained the same:
"The law does not warn... it amputates."
He believed prison was nothing more than "temporary shelter," where criminals waited for a pardon from an influential relative. As a result, he adopted a policy of immediate severance, turning judicial platforms into public gallows and enforcing the law with an uncompromising approach that left no room for reconsideration. Today, by Imperial decree, he returned to the capital after carving out his reputation in what had been called exile.
Upon reaching the platform, he bowed respectfully before the throne. Sislin stepped forward carrying the ceremonial case containing the official seal, a symbolic key bearing the title (Legal Balance), and a pen engraved with the title (Executor).
Everyone expected Morgana to praise his accomplishments, and Julian himself expected her to speak of his past. Instead, she simply took the pen, handed it to him calmly, looked him in the eyes, and summed up everything with a single phrase.
"You've done well."
The words were neither loud nor ceremonial, yet they fell upon the hall like a final judgment.
Several nobles exchanged glances, as though waiting for more that never came. Ray smiled and glanced toward Morgana with quiet appreciation, while even Rei paused for a brief moment and looked at her.
That brevity was not understatement... it was recognition that required no explanation.
Faced with that acknowledgment, Julian's eyes softened. Anyone who knew him well might have thought he smiled, yet his expression remained unchanged. He bowed, accepted the pen, and it felt as though the noise that had followed him for years had finally faded—not because the burden had disappeared, but because his efforts had finally been placed where they belonged.
He spoke in a steady voice.
"I offer my gratitude with the edge of the sword and the sincerity of my words to the Sun and Moon of the Empire."
The words "You've done well" echoed through Julian's mind as he returned to his seat carrying the ceremonial case. They felt light... gentle... peaceful... in a way he had never experienced before.
His mind, accustomed only to the clamor of courtrooms, overlapping voices, and the cries of the condemned, received those two words like a drop of morning dew falling into the stillness of dawn. The chaos within him quieted, escaping only as a faint sigh as he took his seat.
The silence did not last long.
Rei regained his formal voice, as though ceremony allowed no room for emotion to linger, and announced:
[Next, the Ministry of Agriculture and Water Resources: the ministry responsible for food production, land reclamation, and the protection of water resources...]
Several attendees lifted their heads without much enthusiasm. The tension left behind by Julian's appointment still lingered in their throats. Yet the instant Rei spoke the next name, audible sighs of relief spread throughout the hall, and the expressions on countless faces changed as though a dark cloud had suddenly dispersed.
[Marquis Silas Green... step forward if you believe yourself worthy of this responsibility.]
The moment the name was announced, the tension eased, and eyes naturally turned with admiration toward one of the East's greatest nobles. Silas Green—the man who possessed the Empire's last remaining "paradise" on the edge of the storm.
Anyone who saw the endless greenery of his lands and the vastness of his farms would never believe the Empire was dying. Silas had been too clever to let the chaos consume him. On the contrary, he quietly exploited it to expand his influence until his domains covered nearly one percent of the Empire's immense territory.
A calm smile appeared on the face of the "Man of Wheat," the smile of someone fully aware of his worth on the current balance of power. He rose with measured dignity and approached the throne in composed steps that carried none of Julian's severity, but rather Elena's grace.
Upon reaching it, he bowed respectfully before the throne. Although Ray's eyes regarded him with sharp understanding, fully aware that Silas was nothing more than a brilliant opportunist wrapping the surrounding chaos around his own interests, he did not reject his appointment. In times of famine, the man who owns the fields becomes the uncrowned king.
Sislin then revealed the ceremonial case containing the Ministry's seal, the symbolic key bearing the title (Lifeline), and a finely engraved pen bearing the title (Cultivator).
"Marquis Silas..."
Morgana took the pen and spoke, wiping the faint smile from Silas's face.
"Nobility is not measured by the size of your lands, but by the number of mouths fed by their bounty."
She handed him the pen and continued with a calm tone and an appreciative smile.
"Land that endures when everything else collapses does not need a ruler who merely owns it, but a man who knows how to keep it alive. You proved in the East that you are that man. Today, we entrust you with that which feeds the entire Empire. Protect it from hunger... before you are forced to protect your own neck from the hungry."
A brief silence settled as Silas accepted the pen. The confident smile vanished from his face, replaced by a far more restrained expression, as though he was weighing her words before answering them through action rather than speech.
He felt the eyes of the nobles upon him, while the weight of the throne behind Morgana gave her words their full meaning. He bowed once more, this time without display—a precise bow from a man who understood that his duty was no longer managing his own estates, but feeding an entire nation.
"Your message has reached me, Your Majesty."
He took the ceremonial case and stepped back with composed strides, leaving behind the echo of words that had reshaped the balance of power within the hall.
Then Rei's cold voice rang out once more, bringing the hall back to attention.
[Next...
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End of Chapter
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[Side Note: The Records of Julian Stern — The Balance of Blood]
[Five years ago, a decree was issued transferring Chief Judicial Inspector Julian Stern to the border provinces, a move officially described as "a redistribution of authority," while many nobles in the capital viewed it as the removal of a man whose literal enforcement of the law had become an increasing political embarrassment.]
[Upon his arrival, the region suffered from widespread smuggling, competing power centers, and judicial rulings that had remained unenforced for years. His very first decision was to activate those suspended judgments and carry them out immediately, seeking to restore the authority of the law before attempting to reinterpret it.]
[Julian adopted an unusually hands-on approach for someone in his position, personally traveling between villages and border crossings while refusing to postpone cases or send them through lengthy administrative chains. As a result, litigation times were dramatically reduced, though it also earned him the reputation of being the judge who never granted a second chance.]
[Local records indicate a sharp decline in the activity of criminal organizations and smuggling networks, transforming the province into the Empire's most stable border region at the present time, even if that stability rested more upon strictness than popular approval. It was during this period that the title "The Executioner" first appeared—a title never officially recognized by the state, and one Julian himself regarded as a functional description rather than a personal honor.]