The thought solidified in his mind, hard and sharp as a diamond. Money was power, and in this empire, power flowed through veins of gold. The largest vein was the Imperial Treasury.
He turned from the window. The Empress Isabella sat motionless in her chair, her eyes vacant, her beautiful face a perfect, empty mask. She was a testament to his power, a living trophy of his will. But she was a silent partner. The active opposition was still very much alive.
"Marcus," Aaron's voice was low, but it echoed in the cavernous chamber.
The steward appeared in the doorway almost instantly, his face pale and slick with sweat. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, not daring to look at his master or the silent Empress. "Your Grace."
"Summon the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Lord Valerius. Tell him I wish to discuss the empire's finances. Immediately."
Marcus bowed so low his forehead nearly touched his knees. "At once, Your Grace." He practically ran from the room, escaping the suffocating pressure of Aaron's presence.
Aaron settled into the Regent's throne, a monstrous thing of black iron and obsidian that seemed to drink the light from the room. He let his fingers trace the cold armrest, feeling the thrum of contained power from his own creation, the Eternal Throne, now integrated into this seat of power. He had a plan, but it required an actor. And he knew Lord Valerius would play his part perfectly.
An hour later, Lord Valerius was announced. He entered the throne room with a practiced air of deference, a portly man in robes of expensive, deep blue velvet. His face was fleshy and his smile was oily, but his eyes were small, sharp, and constantly moving, calculating every shadow, every angle. He was a creature of the court, a viper hiding in a silk purse.
He stopped a respectable distance from the throne and executed a deep, flawless bow. "Your Grace," he said, his voice smooth and rich. "You honor me with this summons. How may I serve the throne?"
Aaron watched him, his own expression unreadable. He could smell the man's ambition, a sour scent beneath his expensive cologne. Valerius was a leader of the traditionalist nobles, the ones who saw Aaron as a crude usurper, a temporary storm to be weathered. They thought him a simple brute, a warlock who understood only force.
"Lord Valerius," Aaron said, his voice flat. "The empire is at a crossroads. We have enemies without and weakness within. I intend to fortify our position, starting with our coffers." He gestured to the empty throne beside him, where the puppet boy-emperor Leo should have been. "The Emperor's reign must be built on a foundation of solid gold, not debt."
Valerius's smile widened, a predator sensing an opening. "A wise and prudent course, Your Grace. In fact, I have been developing several proposals that would greatly enhance our financial standing and strategic power." He was too prepared. This was not a summons; it was an ambush he had been waiting to spring.
The Chancellor clapped his hands, and two aides hurried forward, laying a heavy parchment scroll on the table between them. The wax seal depicted a kraken entwined with a galleon.
"The Sea Lords of the southern isles," Valerius began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr. "They are pirates and rogues, it is true. But they command the southern passages. Their fleet is the key to controlling trade from the distant continents." He leaned forward, his small eyes gleaming. "They offer an alliance. A powerful naval ally, Your Grace. And they ask for so little in return."
"So little?" Aaron prompted, picking up the scroll. The parchment was heavy, the ink rich with magical preservatives.
"Just a few… trade concessions," Valerius said, waving a dismissive hand. "Exclusive rights to trade certain goods, reduced tariffs in our ports, and the right to establish their own trade posts in our southern cities."
Aaron unrolled the scroll. His eyes scanned the dense, legalistic text. He didn't need to read every word. The trap was laid out in plain sight for anyone with eyes to see. The "concessions" were a complete surrender of maritime sovereignty. The Sea Lords would gain a stranglehold on all imperial shipping. They could tax, delay, or seize any goods at will. The trade posts would become fortified pirate dens on imperial soil. It was a Trojan horse crafted to gut the empire's economy from within, bleeding it dry for the benefit of the Chancellor's faction and their new 'allies'.
It was a stupid, obvious trap. And that was what made it so insulting. They truly thought he was a fool.
He looked up, meeting Valerius's eager gaze. He let a flicker of interest show in his eyes. "A powerful fleet would be useful," he mused aloud. He saw the flash of triumph in the Chancellor's face, quickly suppressed. The viper thought the bait was taken.
"An interesting proposal, my Lord," Aaron said, his tone carefully neutral. He pushed the scroll back across the table. "I will consider it." This was the first move in their game. Rejection would have been a declaration of war. Consideration was a promise of a future battle.
Valerius, clearly pleased, did not press the matter. He simply rolled up the scroll and motioned for his second proposal. This one was even larger, bound in leather and illustrated with intricate diagrams.
"If naval power is not to your immediate taste, Your Grace, perhaps a project of infrastructure? A work for the people, to secure their loyalty and ensure the prosperity of the northern provinces."
He spread the new schematics out. They depicted a grand magical irrigation system for the arid northern plains. A network of aqueducts and enchanted conduits that would draw water from the great mountain rivers and turn the dust bowls into fertile farmland.
"A noble endeavor," Valerius said, his voice thick with false sincerity. He was a picture of benevolence. "Think of the grain, the taxes, the happy, productive citizens singing the praises of their wise Regent."
Aaron almost laughed. He leaned over the plans, his knowledge of magical engineering far exceeding anything this fat lord could comprehend. The design was clever, he had to admit. It would function, for a time. But it was a masterpiece of malicious inefficiency.
The conduits were designed with a rare, expensive alloy where simple enchanted stone would suffice. The runes of water-drawing were deliberately complex, requiring ten times the magical energy to maintain. He saw stabilization arrays that were intentionally misaligned, guaranteed to crack and fail within five years, necessitating a complete and costly rebuild. It was a black hole for funds, a colossal sinkhole designed to drain the treasury while lining the pockets of the noble families who owned the mines and the mage guilds contracted to do the work.
This wasn't just corruption. It was systemic rot. The empire's systems were designed for this, to bleed power and wealth through a thousand cuts. The nobles, the mages, the merchants—they were all leeches, and they had been feeding on this dying beast for centuries.
But there was something else. Aaron's eyes narrowed. The proposed location for the main reservoir… it was less than a league from a major ley line convergence. A place of immense raw power. A place someone like Reynolds would find very, very interesting.
This wasn't just a scheme to steal money. It was a cover. A way to establish a massive, treasury-funded operation right on top of a strategic magical resource. Reynolds's hand was in this. Valerius was not just a greedy noble; he was a pawn for a greater power.
"I am not interested in farming, my Lord," Aaron said coolly, pushing the plans away. The air in the room grew cold. Valerius's benevolent mask slipped for a fraction of a second, revealing the hard-faced schemer beneath.
"But, Your Grace… the people…"
"The people have survived this long without magical rivers," Aaron cut him off. He leaned back in his throne, letting the silence stretch. He saw the flicker of panic in Valerius's eyes. The Chancellor had expected him to fall into one of the two traps. He hadn't anticipated outright refusal of both.
This was the moment Aaron realized the truth of his situation. He couldn't just command this system. He couldn't reform it. It was too rotten, too infested. Trying to fix it would be like trying to cure a corpse of its decay.
He had to break it. He had to use its own corrupt rules, its own greedy players, to get what he wanted. He would not be their master. He would be their disease. A fever that would burn the rot away, leaving only what he could control.
He let a slow, cold smile spread across his face. It was a predator's smile, and it made Valerius take an involuntary step back. The Chancellor's confidence was gone, replaced by a primal fear.
"However," Aaron said, his voice now dangerously soft. "You were right about one thing, my Lord Chancellor. The empire needs grand projects. It needs to see its wealth put to work."
He reached out and tapped the irrigation plan. Valerius stared at his finger as if it were a snake.
"This project… it has merit. But it is timid. It is small-minded."
Valerius was utterly confused. "Your… Your Grace?"
"We will build it," Aaron declared.
The shock on Valerius's face was comical. His jaw went slack, his eyes wide with disbelief. He had gone from victory to defeat and now back to a victory so sudden and complete he couldn't process it. He thought he had won.
"A most… excellent decision, Your Grace!" he stammered, recovering quickly. A wave of smugness washed over him. The fool had taken the bait after all. The arrogant warlock was blind to the subtleties of statecraft.
"But," Aaron said, holding up a single finger. The word cut through Valerius's triumph like a shard of ice. "We will make some… improvements to the design."
Aaron stood and walked over to the table, looming over the Chancellor. He picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and began to make changes directly on the master schematic. His movements were swift and precise.
"This alloy is inferior. We will use star-forged adamant. It is more expensive, but it will last an eternity." He made a note. Valerius's eyes bulged. Star-forged adamant was ten times the cost.
"These runes are inefficient. I will provide a new set of arrays. They will triple the water flow with half the energy cost." He drew a complex new symbol over the old ones, a symbol Valerius had never seen before. It pulsed with a faint, dark light for a moment before fading.
"And the oversight," Aaron continued, his voice dropping to a low growl. "The noble contractors and mage guilds are too slow, too corrupt. This project is too important to be left to them." He looked directly into Valerius's eyes. "I am creating a new office. The Ministry of Imperial Works. It will answer directly to me. Its first task will be this irrigation system. We will hire our own workers, source our own materials. We will bypass the guilds entirely."
Valerius's face had gone from triumphant red to a pasty, sickly white. He understood now. Aaron wasn't just approving the project. He was hijacking it. He was using the treasury's funds to create his own private construction empire, completely outside the nobles' control. The star-forged adamant, the new runes… they weren't about efficiency. They were about raising the budget to astronomical levels, all of which would now flow through Aaron's new Ministry.
He had turned Valerius's black hole for funds into his personal bank account.
"But Your Grace… the guilds… the noble families… there are contracts, traditions…" Valerius sputtered, his mind racing to find a countermove.
"The traditions of failure and theft are over," Aaron said, his voice like grinding stone. "You will approve the new budget. You will sign the edict creating the Ministry. Or I will find a Chancellor who will." He leaned closer, the shadows in the room seeming to deepen around him. "Do you understand me, Lord Valerius?"
Valerius could feel the raw power radiating from the Regent. It was not the subtle influence of a courtier; it was the crushing force of a god. He was a mouse arguing with a dragon. He bowed his head, defeated.
"Yes, Your Grace. I… I understand completely."
"Good." Aaron stepped back, his smile gone. "Now get out of my sight and get it done. I want the first funds transferred by week's end."
Lord Valerius bowed again, a broken man, and scurried out of the throne room, his fine velvet robes seeming to hang off him. The aides scrambled to collect the schematics and followed him out.
Aaron watched them go, then turned his gaze back to the window. The city lay before him, a web of power and intrigue. He had just plunged his knife into its heart and twisted. He hadn't gotten his mountain of gold yet, but he had secured the shovel to start digging. He had taken their own weapon, their own corruption, and turned it against them. They would pay for their arrogance. They would pay for everything.
And they would fund his ascension, one stolen coin at a time.