Chapter 16: Centralisation of Arm forces Part 1
The first carts of the "miracle harvest" rolled into Aethelburg, piled high with golden grain that seemed to glow under the autumn sun. The streets buzzed with joy—people cheered, kids ran alongside the wagons, and old folks whispered that their young Grand Prince was touched by some divine hand. But Alexius, watching from his solar's window, felt no joy. The harvest was a bandage on a bleeding wound, a brief respite from the hunger that had haunted the capital. It bought him time, but time was a currency he was burning fast.
His eyes kept drifting to the map on his desk, its edges curling from constant use. The System updated it daily, painting a swath of the Northern Duchy in pulsing red—a jagged scar marking the front line. Reports from Captain Marcus Valerius's expedition trickled in, carried by exhausted riders on half-dead horses. The news wasn't catastrophic, but it was grim, like a loop of bad code he couldn't fix. Marcus, a brilliant commander, was holding back a tide of ant-like monsters, but it was a brutal stalemate. His men were dying in droves, their gear breaking, their supplies crawling up muddy tracks too slow to matter. The feudal system—nobles hoarding their own armies and resources—was strangling them.
Alexius's stomach hurt. This wasn't just a war; it was a test, and Leo was failing. But the harvest, the full treasury, and the people's fleeting adoration gave him a window—a chance to rewrite the rules. He called his Royal Council, to push adoption of unew reforms.
The council chamber was heavy with tension, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and worry. Marquess Varrus sat like a storm cloud, his scarred face grim, his thoughts clearly with the soldiers in the north. Duke Thorne, usually a rock, looked worn, the strain of the war on his lands etched in the lines around his eyes. Baroness Althea Varro and the others watched Alexius, waiting for him to speak.
"My Lords, Ladies," he began, and pointed to the Leo map's on the floor, particularly red dots. "Captain Marcus and Duke Thorne's forces of ten thousand of our best are fighting up there, holding back a nightmare. They're brave, they're tough, but they're dying because our system is broken."
He met Thorne's gaze, knowing this would hit hardest. "Supplies take weeks to reach them, crawling through mud. Our soldiers are a mess—different lords, different training, different gear. This monster surge should've been crushed fast, but it's a bleeding sore because Leo isn't a kingdom. It's a patchwork of fiefdoms playing pretend. That ends today."
He unrolled a sheet of crisp paper, the ink of his decrees still fresh. The System had helped him draft them, but the ideas behind them was his own. "First, we need a real treasury to fight this war. As of now, all noble tax rights are to be abolished. The Crown will takes over, with a new tax code run by my Royal Tax Commission. Your houses get generous stipends, you can keep your current wealths and authority to rule the territorry, but Leo's wealth will directly go to the Crown and serves Leo, starting with our men in the north."
He continue. "Second, we need to move fast. I'm ordering the Prince's Highway—a proper, paved road from here to Ostengard of Duke Thorne's Capital and Stonefall Fort of Marquess Varrus. After finishng the high way Our troopscan march in only two days, not current two weeks travel." Nobles murmurs between themselves and suprised it will benefit for them.
He paused, then delivered the main blow. "Third, to win this war, and all the wars to come, we need a single, professional army. The system of noble levies is hereby abolished."
The air in the room grew thick with shock. Even Varrus looked stunned by the audacity of the declaration.
"I am decreeing the formation of the Royal Army of Leo," Alexius said, his voice ringing with absolute authority. "A standing army, trained to a single standard, equipped with the best arms our treasury can buy, and loyal only to the Crown. All current soldiers in noble service will be given a choice: retire, or enlist in the Royal Army for better pay, better equipment, and the honor of serving the realm itself. Recruitment will be open to all my subjects—human and non-human alike."
Then, He looked directly at the a warrior like man. "Marquess Tiberius Varrus, I name you General of the Royal Army. Your first task is to create this force with all possible speed, efficenciency and break the stalemate in the north. After that you will be in charge of the Royal Army and only answer to the Crown."
Varrus, snapping out of his shock, slammed a fist to his chest, his eyes blazing with a fire Alexius had never seen. "It will be done, Your Majesty!"
Alexius then turned to the silent, processing Duke Thorne. He knew this was the most difficult pill for the traditionalist to swallow. "Duke Thorne, this is not an insult to your honor. It is a necessity for our survival. I am creating a new Ministry of Internal Affairs, responsible for domestic law and border security. I need a man of unimpeachable integrity and experience to lead it. I name you its first Lord Minister. Your household forces will be the core of our new Border Guard and police forces former City Guards. You will still be Leo's shield and maintain law and order for the entire realm, but now the entire strength of the Royal Army will be ready to reinforce you at a moment's notice via the new highway."
The offer was brilliant. He had taken away Thorne's private army but given him authority over the security of the entire realm, a far greater and more prestigious responsibility. Thorne, faced with the undeniable logic of the northern war and an offer that preserved his honor while increasing his actual authority, gave a slow, deliberate nod.
The decrees were made. They were not abstract plans for the future; they were urgent, necessary responses to an ongoing war. Alexius had used the crisis as a crucible, forcing the fractured elements of his kingdom into a new, stronger alloy. The forging of his new Leo had begun, not in a time of peace, but under the harsh, unforgiving pressure of war. (Continue…..)