The Imperial Strategy Chamber had not been used for civilian matters in decades.
It was built for war.
Maps covered the walls — three continents, trade routes, resource veins, mana concentration zones. Crystal orbs floated above a central obsidian table, projecting moving information in faint golden light.
Today, however—
The battlefield was internal.
Arthur stood at the head of the table.
No armor.
No ceremonial cloak.
Just a fitted black coat with minimal embroidery.
Across from him stood:
Princess Seraphina
Prince Darius
The Imperial Treasurer, Lord Halbrecht
Two senior archivists
And three silent royal guards
The door sealed shut with a heavy thud.
Arthur did not waste time.
"Begin with southern district tax records from the last three years."
Lord Halbrecht swallowed faintly.
"Your Highness… the southern district produces modest revenue. It is unlikely—"
Arthur's gaze shifted toward him.
Halbrecht froze.
Arthur didn't raise his voice.
"Unlikely does not mean impossible."
"Yes, Your Highness."
The crystal orb above the table shimmered. Pages of records began projecting midair.
Arthur stepped closer.
His golden eyes moved rapidly.
Not casually.
Not scanning.
Calculating.
Income per household. Trade fluctuations. Seasonal shifts. Military levy changes. Infrastructure spending.
He began noticing patterns immediately.
Small increases.
Subtle.
Almost invisible.
Darius leaned closer. "That looks normal."
Arthur shook his head slightly.
"No."
He pointed.
"Year one: eight percent levy."
He shifted.
"Year two: nine percent."
Again.
"Year three: ten point five."
Halbrecht frowned.
"That is within acceptable flexibility margins."
Arthur's voice cooled.
"Not when the imperial decree caps it at eight."
Silence.
Seraphina's eyes narrowed slightly.
Halbrecht hesitated.
"Viscount Harlowe may have adjusted based on 'local necessity.'"
Arthur's lips curved faintly.
"Then we will examine the necessity."
He gestured.
"Cross-reference with infrastructure improvements in southern district."
The orb flickered.
Minimal public works. Minor road repair. No major projects.
Arthur's expression hardened slightly.
"Where did the additional levy go?"
Silence.
Darius looked at the treasurer sharply.
Halbrecht's throat moved.
"It… would be recorded under regional administrative allocation."
"Display it."
More projections.
And there it was.
A line item.
"Security Reinforcement Expenditure."
Arthur stared at it.
"Amount?"
"Three hundred thousand gold annually."
Darius inhaled sharply.
"That's absurd for that district."
Arthur nodded once.
"Breakdown."
The orb hesitated briefly — then displayed summary entries.
Mana barrier maintenance.
Guard reinforcement.
Equipment procurement.
Arthur tapped the table lightly.
"Southern district crime rates."
The archivist quickly responded.
"Low. Extremely low. The area is stable."
Arthur looked back at the projection.
Three hundred thousand gold.
For stability that did not require it.
His mind assembled the pieces quickly.
Small percentage increase. Spread over years. Justifiable terminology. No visible infrastructure change.
Elegant theft.
Seraphina spoke softly.
"He's skimming through security allocation."
Arthur nodded.
"And because it's labeled as defensive, no one questions it."
Halbrecht's face paled slightly.
Arthur turned toward him.
"How many other districts use similar labeling?"
Halbrecht hesitated.
Arthur didn't threaten.
He didn't flare mana.
He simply waited.
The silence grew unbearable.
"…Six," Halbrecht admitted quietly.
Darius's jaw tightened.
Arthur's gaze sharpened.
"Names."
They were given.
Two viscounts.
Three counts.
One duke.
The room grew cold.
Seraphina spoke carefully.
"If we move against a duke immediately, it will create panic."
Arthur nodded slightly.
"Yes."
He stepped back from the table.
"Which is why we do not."
Everyone looked at him.
He continued calmly.
"We start small."
He looked at Darius.
"Summon Viscount Harlowe to court."
Darius straightened. "Publicly?"
Arthur's eyes gleamed faintly.
"Yes."
Seraphina watched him carefully.
"You intend spectacle."
Arthur's lips curved slightly.
"I intend clarity."
—
Two days later.
The Grand Court convened.
Hundreds of nobles filled the chamber.
Dukes in embroidered cloaks. Counts with jeweled signet rings. Knights lining the walls.
At the center—
Viscount Harlowe stood stiffly.
Sweat glistened along his brow.
Arthur sat beside the Emperor.
The hall was silent.
The Emperor spoke first.
"You are accused of exceeding imperial taxation limits."
Harlowe bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty, any adjustments were made for the protection of citizens—"
Arthur interrupted.
Calmly.
"List the threats that required three hundred thousand gold annually."
The viscount faltered.
"Bandit activity—"
Arthur raised a hand slightly.
A projection orb activated.
Crime statistics filled the air.
Zero major incidents.
No bandit clusters.
No mana surges.
Harlowe's breathing quickened.
Arthur's voice remained steady.
"Explain."
The hall felt suffocating.
Harlowe attempted to speak.
Failed.
Arthur rose slowly.
He descended the steps toward the viscount.
Each step echoed.
Not rushed.
Not angry.
Controlled.
"You increased taxation gradually," Arthur said quietly. "Small increments. Masked under defensive terminology."
Harlowe trembled.
"You believed it would go unnoticed."
Arthur stopped directly in front of him.
"You believed the Crown would not look closely."
The viscount collapsed to his knees.
"I-I intended to repay—"
Arthur's eyes turned cold.
"Intent does not erase betrayal."
Silence.
Arthur turned slightly.
"Confiscate his assets. Strip his title. Imprison pending further investigation."
Gasps spread across the hall.
No trial delay.
No negotiation.
Clean. Decisive.
The Emperor did not object.
Which meant—
This was sanctioned.
Guards dragged the viscount away.
Arthur returned to his seat.
The hall remained silent.
Then Arthur spoke clearly.
"This is not punishment for ambition."
He let his gaze sweep across the nobles.
"This is punishment for betrayal."
His golden eyes seemed to weigh each of them.
"Taxation is a covenant. Break it, and you break trust with the Crown."
No one breathed.
Arthur leaned back slightly.
"The audit continues."
That line echoed like thunder.
Several nobles lowered their heads immediately.
Others clenched their fists quietly.
Fear was no longer abstract.
It had become real.
—
That night.
In hidden chambers across the capital—
Messages were burned.
Secret meetings convened.
Panic spread.
"He moved faster than expected."
"He didn't even threaten first."
"He destroyed Harlowe publicly."
And somewhere in the darkness—
A masked figure whispered:
"He is consolidating loyalty."
Another voice replied:
"Then fracture him."
—
Back in his chambers.
Arthur stood alone.
He closed his eyes.
Mana flowed through him.
The crack in his core pulsed faintly.
The detonation array had not weakened him politically.
It had triggered something else.
He smiled faintly.
"They thought injury would slow me."
Instead—
It clarified him.
Arthur opened his eyes.
Golden light flickered briefly within them.
"If corruption is rot…"
His expression hardened.
"I will carve until the bone is clean."
And the empire trembled — not from fear alone.
But from anticipation.