The Aspiration Blossoming In The Colonies

May 1st.

The largest city in the Polia Kingdom’s colonies—Beyru.

Once scarred by war, the city had, over the years, completely healed and been restored. Even now, it continued to serve as the foremost colonial metropolis.

Resources gathered from across the colonies flowed into this logistics hub. Materials arriving by train were promptly loaded onto ships and sent across the ocean to the mainland.

In truth, one could say this place felt entirely untouched by the great war erupting on the Old Continent. In contrast, colonies belonging to other nations were in a state of high alert—naturally so, since fleets from the various empires were moving about near their waters.

While a brutal trench war raged inside the Leman Federation, this continent remained free of direct conflict. But who could say how long the standoff would last? Battles between colonies could break out at any moment.

In any case, Beyru remained peaceful and ordinary—for the most part. The exception was that Prince Vincent di Polia, once the First Prince and contender for the throne, was now residing here.

“These factories are far too small, don’t you think?”

“I apologize. The infrastructure here is rather lacking…”

The man bowing his head was Count Rolchen, Governor of the colonial administration. His deferential attitude was due to the sheer presence of those surrounding him.

Prince Vincent had brought his entire faction with him to the colonies—or more precisely, all the capable people who had formed his political base. Many questioned why the current king had permitted such a move.

Alongside him stood his maternal grandfather, Duke Gwens, who still held his ducal title and influence. Even his wealth had remained intact as he relocated it to this colony in the New Continent.

“From over there to that side—buy up all that land. We’ll build factories on it.”

“Excuse me? Over there?”

“Why? Is there a problem?”

“Well… that land belongs to the royal family. Purchasing it would be difficult.”

“Hmph, is that so?”

Vincent wore a face of feigned surprise and cleared his throat. Others around him followed suit awkwardly. Though he had tried to speak with gravitas, it turned out to be rather embarrassing. This was why preliminary research was vital—but as his faction was still forming here, there were many gaps.

“Then where is land currently available for purchase?”

“North of the city center would be ideal.”

“The north, hmm… that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“May I ask what kind of factory you intend to build?”

“Oh, nothing major. I plan to manufacture shovels and pickaxes.”

“I see…”

One might wonder why shovels and pickaxes, of all things. But recently, demand for those tools had surged. With war raging and trenches constantly being dug, they were in growing demand.

Vincent intended to capitalize on that trend by establishing factories—though they were closer to blacksmith shops than true factories. Having heard that the mainland was enjoying substantial war profits, he was determined to get his share here as well.

After consulting with his grandfather, Duke Gwens, they concluded that war between the empires could soon erupt even on this continent. They sought to be ready—by building facilities to amass wealth while they could. Since the war could end at any time, construction had to begin quickly.

“For Prince Vincent to invest here… I’m truly grateful.”

Establishing factories would generate tax revenue for Beyru, and Governor Rolchen was pleased. Vincent, however, shook his head as if it were nothing.

“No need to thank me. I live here now—naturally, I want to help the city develop.”

“Haha, of course.”

While the governor smiled, Vincent harbored other thoughts. This place would be his new base of power. He had no delusions of reclaiming the mainland. His younger brother had taken the throne and consolidated his rule—and word had reached him that he now controlled the political scene completely.

‘If not the mainland… then this shall be my foundation and new homeland.’

Here, Vincent found new hope—or rather, opportunity. He’d always wondered: why had his brother sent him, and his followers, all the way out here? Even the Second Prince had been sent to a different colonial city.

Unlike Vincent, he had been sent to the second-largest city in the colonies. The parallel was too clear to ignore.

‘Ian… that bastard wants us to tear each other apart in the colonies.’

He assumed Ian didn’t want to dirty his own hands, so he devised this plan. To remain pure while eliminating his brothers—how hypocritical and cunning, Vincent thought.

‘Well, that’s how he got the throne, I suppose…’

At first, Vincent had been enraged and humiliated by his defeat. But now, seeing how things had unfolded, he had to admit that Ian had far more political acumen than he’d realized. Not having recognized it earlier had cost him dearly.

‘Fine then. I’ll build my power here. In the end, this fight will be mine to win. I’ll found my own kingdom right here!’

Prince Vincent was contemplating full independence. The conditions weren’t bad. Though things were improving, colonial laborers were still undervalued and underpaid compared to the mainland, breeding deep resentment.

If he could stir and manipulate those grievances just right, he could ignite unrest and spread it like wildfire. Amidst the chaos, he would present himself as the unifying figure—a protector of the people.

Among the nobles who followed him were clever strategists. Together, they concluded that even if independence were achieved, they couldn’t completely sever ties with the Polia Kingdom. The world was not kind; it was cold and perilous.

For the colony to survive independently, it would still need protection from external threats. Ultimately, they would have no choice but to seek Polia’s support. It was ironic: even in independence, they would remain little more than a colony.

From a certain angle, it meant offloading responsibility onto the “independent” state while continuing to extract resources—just as before. Knowing this, Vincent still couldn’t help but desire the crown that never came to him.

At any rate, Prince Vincent’s ambition for independence and kingship burned anew—and naturally, Prince Rubid, the Second Prince, felt much the same. A storm of bloodshed might yet descend upon this land.

By the third year of Ian’s reign, the Polia Kingdom’s mainland had reached a state of significant internal stability. The effects of the tax reductions implemented during his first year had yielded a degree of financial independence and soundness among the populace.

With money flowing into people’s hands, their spending naturally increased. Purchasing power slowly rose, reviving the market. On top of that, with revenue from weapons sales coming in, there was enough capital to justify expanding large-scale public works projects.

Accordingly, the Polia Kingdom began developing essential infrastructure. In addition to constructing more reservoirs, major dams were planned and underway to supply electricity to the cities.

Railway tracks were being laid extensively to allow trams to reach farther than before. And even a subway system—something long delayed while the empires pressed ahead—had finally begun construction.

As a long-term, hundred-year project, Ian gave strict instructions to ensure it was thoroughly designed before being built. To minimize the risk of corruption or shoddy work, the secret police were even deployed to supervise construction.

Beyond this, various civil engineering projects were underway. With laborers recruited and money flowing into the economy, much of it was being saved in banks—thus giving rise to a boom in finance.

With funds circulating widely, economic activity flourished. Considering the kingdom’s population of ninety million, it was a massive domestic market. Internally, there was more than enough potential to grow and thrive.

True, the ongoing imperial war had restricted typical exports, but the internal market was compensating for that, albeit modestly.

With people tangibly experiencing improvements in everyday life, it was only natural that public support for the king rose. After all, people tend to follow those who keep them warm and well-fed. Loyalty to the king who made that possible was a given.

Early concerns about the young monarch had vanished. Now, no one doubted Ian’s legitimacy as king. He had become an undisputed ruler, trusted by all.

Polia Kingdom, Royal Palace.

“Hmph. So, the entertainment business is booming, you say?”

“Yes, Your Highness. It appears to have grown nearly twice as large as before.”

Listening to Viscount Rubingston’s report, Ian thought, So the nightlife is thriving now that money’s in people’s hands? Naturally, with more income, people would spend—and especially single men were likely to frequent such establishments.

“Entertainment business” usually implied underground connections…

Ian wasn’t planning to launch a grand crackdown on the underworld. Such elements, if wiped out, would only spring up again. In fact, having large, consolidated organizations could be more helpful.

If underground groups lacked order, it’s the commoners who suffered most.

If many small organizations were scattered about, it would only increase chaos. That said, he wasn’t planning to ignore the situation either. Left unchecked, those funds would inevitably become untraceable underground capital, undermining the very economic stimulus he’d initiated.

Even if such funds represented only a small portion of the overall market, their scale would still be significant. Ian suspected the underground economy was already massive.

“What’s the largest organization operating in the shadows of the capital right now?”

“There are two major ones: Basilisk and Medusa.”

“Is that so?”

The names struck Ian as oddly similar. Both were based on mythical creatures with petrification powers—monsters historically regarded as deadly threats. Could there be a connection?

“Are they related in some way?”

“Originally, the Basilisk organization controlled the capital’s underworld. But in 1902—ten years ago—an internal split led to the formation of Medusa.”

So said Viscount Rubingston, citing investigative records. Ian now confirmed that the capital’s underground was essentially divided between these two factions. The key was to bring them under his control.

While the secret police, the Mauter, already existed, true dominion over the underworld came through its own criminal structures. Ian intended to use them to govern the subterranean world of the Polia Kingdom.

“I need to ensure things like narcotics can’t circulate in this country.”

He had heard reports that various drugs were already in circulation. He’d been too busy with other matters until now, but the time had come to address the spread of narcotics. Ultimately, drugs harmed both the individual and the state.

Ian saw drugs as pure evil—substances that fattened only the dealers while rotting everything else.

“Viscount Rubingston.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Contact the leaders of the Basilisk and Medusa organizations. Tell them I want to meet with them.”

“Your Highness intends to meet them personally?”

“I do.”

“Is there any need to meet with such lowlifes?”

“I’ve decided it’s necessary, so I’ll meet them.”

“Understood. I’ll arrange a meeting at once.”

With his doubts silenced, Viscount Rubingston answered immediately. Ian nodded, already thinking that it had been a while since he’d left the palace in secret. Having spent so much time cooped up inside, he welcomed the chance to get out.

In the end, it took about a week to set up the meeting.