Chapter 407 --407
Even though she had stepped down, even though Samuel sat on the throne and wore the crown, the shadow of the woman who had single-handedly dismantled the old noble factions and forced the empire into stability still loomed large over every corridor. To them, she wasn’t just a retired princess; she was the architect of their current reality.She reached her private office, pushing the door open without a knock.
Predictably, Demerti was already there. He was sitting at his auxiliary desk, sorting through a neat stack of parchment, but the moment the door opened, he practically bolted to his feet. He looked tired, the dark circles under his eyes contrasting with his sharp, professional attire. He looked every bit the thirty-three-year-old man who was balancing the weight of an imperial administration with the domestic demands of a young family.
"Master," Demerti greeted, his voice a mix of profound respect and palpable relief. "You’re here."
"I am always here at this hour, Demerti," Elara said, walking over to her massive oak desk.
The desk, which used to be piled so high with documents that she could barely see across the room, was remarkably bare. There was only a single, neat stack of folders resting in the center, alongside a freshly filled inkwell and a polished quill. The ten percent.
"His Majesty, Emperor Samuel, sent an envoy earlier this morning," Demerti began, stepping forward with a leather-bound folder. "The river case involving the recent nobleman... Samuel is having difficulty establishing the legal precedent for the land seizure. The nobleman’s lawyers are arguing that the inheritance rights predate the current imperial decree."
Elara sat down, her posture perfectly straight, her hands resting calmly on the dark wood of the desk. She didn’t look at the folder Demerti was holding out. She didn’t need to.
"Samuel is overthinking the opposition," Elara stated flatly. "The inheritance rights are irrelevant. The nobleman signed a clause three years ago during the grain distribution crisis, granting the crown temporary administrative access to the riverbanks in exchange for a tax exemption. That temporary access was never formally dissolved. Tell Samuel to cite Section Four of the crisis decree. The land belongs to the crown. The nobleman has no legal standing."
Demerti blinked, a helpless, familiar expression crossing his face. He lowered the folder, a soft, exhausted sigh escaping his lips. "You haven’t even read the brief, Master."
"I wrote the crisis decree, Demerti. I do not need to read the brief."
"Of course," Demerti muttered, rubbing his temples. He looked up at her, his expression softening into that sentimental, worried look he always had when he looked at her lately. "Samuel was... anxious. He handles the court well enough, but whenever a complex legal dispute arises, he still panics."
"He panics because he fears conflict," Elara said, her eyes tracking Demerti’s movements as she picked up her quill. "Conflict is a necessary variable in statecraft. If he cannot learn to tolerate the friction of the nobility, he will remain an ineffective ruler. I will not always be here to provide the answers."
Demerti pressed his lips together, his gaze drifting to the window, where the mid-morning sun was shining brightly over the palace gardens. "The people still ask about you, you know. The commoners, the lower-ranking administrators. They wonder why you spend so much time in the training grounds or locked away in your quarters. They think you are planning something."