The Shifted Throne (Overlord)

Chapter 9: A Kingdom's Burden

After the tense meeting with the council, Edmund needed a moment to himself. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on his shoulders. The kingdom was on the brink of collapse—resources dwindling, military forces stretched thin, and the looming threat of the Beastmen growing ever closer. It was all too much. Edmund, despite the stoic mask he'd kept during the meeting, was overwhelmed by the enormity of his responsibility. The path ahead seemed impossibly difficult, and for the first time in a long while, he questioned whether he was truly ready for what lay ahead.

The palace's garden offered little comfort, despite its beauty. The perfectly trimmed hedges and vibrant blooms seemed to mock him, a stark contrast to the mess that was the kingdom. Edmund's feet carried him aimlessly, his thoughts as tangled as the vines that crept up the garden walls. The more he thought about it, the more doubts surfaced. Was he really capable of leading? Was this the right choice, or was he simply caught up in the moment?

Every decision, every move felt so heavy. 'If I hesitate any longer, it'll all fall apart,' he thought, clenching his fists. His frustration only grew. What was the point of all this if he couldn't act decisively? He knew that the time to hesitate had passed, but his instincts seemed to scream that he wasn't ready.

Edmund shook his head as though to rid himself of the doubts. He couldn't afford this. He was the king now, and that meant making decisions, even if they were difficult. With a sigh, he turned back toward the palace. His mind was in turmoil, but as he passed a stone bench, something flickered in his memory—a small, almost insignificant thing, but one that he couldn't ignore.

The memory came to him unexpectedly—nights spent falling asleep to documentaries on ancient history. In his previous life, he had often put on documentaries, letting the voices and facts lull him to sleep. At the time, it had been an unremarkable habit, but now, those same documentaries seemed to have left an imprint on his mind.

What had he learned from those nights of drifting off to the sound of narrations? He remembered bits and pieces—ancient Rome, Athens, Sparta, the Mongol empire. It all came back in flashes. Each empire's governance, military strategies, and innovations. He paused in the middle of the garden path, trying to pull the details together.

'Wait, didn't the Romans have this system of taxes and public works?' Edmund thought. 'And the Spartans, their military training was so rigorous... Maybe there's something here I can use.' His mind clicked into gear, thoughts racing.

He turned quickly and made his way to the king's office, his heart beating faster. The palace seemed empty, the quiet only adding to the intensity of his thoughts. Once inside, he sat at the desk, pulling out a quill, ink, and paper. It felt strange to be in this office, to be in charge, but the task ahead seemed too urgent to ignore. He needed to write down everything he could remember, every scrap of knowledge from those nights spent with his eyes closed, listening.

The quill scratched across the paper, faster and faster, as Edmund recalled everything he could about governance and military strategy. The Romans' taxation system, Athenian democracy, Spartan military discipline, the Mongols' speed and adaptability in battle. He wrote about the efficiency of the Roman roads, the philosophical foundations of Greek democracy, the importance of discipline in Sparta's military, and how the Mongols dominated their enemies through sheer mobility and unconventional tactics.

The words flowed out of him until the pages were filled, each one containing detailed accounts of military tactics, economic reforms, and political strategies that he could potentially implement. By the time the ink dried on the twenty-fourth page, he had created a comprehensive list of ideas—ideas that, if put into action, could help stabilize and rebuild the kingdom.

But there was more to consider. The kingdom was in dire straits, and he couldn't afford to implement these ideas without careful thought. 'Taxation and accounting reforms should come first, but agriculture and food production are essential. I need to deal with the military too, especially with the Beastmen threatening the borders,' he mused. Edmund stopped writing and leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled before his face as he contemplated how to proceed.

And then, it hit him—something he had completely overlooked in his earlier stress. 'I'm in a fucking fantasy world,' he cursed under his breath. 'How could I forget about magic?' His mind swirled with frustration. How could he think of running a kingdom without considering magic, the very foundation of this world?

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to calm down. 'Right, focus. Let's think about magic systems. What do I know?'

From his past knowledge, he recalled two major types of magic before the rise of the Tier Magic system. First, there was Wild Magic, used by the dragonic kingdoms. Wild Magic was powered by souls, not mana. A powerful and dangerous form of magic, it required the caster to sacrifice souls in exchange for spells. He remembered reading about it and how it was in sharp contrast to the more familiar Tier Magic that was now dominant.

Then there was Runecraft. Runecraft, once practiced by the dwarves, had nearly died out after the Demon God Unrest, a tragic event that had nearly wiped out the art. Though no longer in common practice, Edmund thought it might be worth finding dwarves who could still use Runecraft, if only for their historical and cultural value to his kingdom.

Finally, there was Tier Magic, the magic most commonly used today. It had been introduced by the Players who were transported to this world, and it had become the dominant system. Tier Magic was divided into levels, with each level corresponding to the caster's power. It was structured and methodical, allowing for wide accessibility, but it had also led to the decline of older forms of magic, like Wild Magic, which had become corrupted over time.

'The military... no,' Edmund thought, shaking his head. 'The military doesn't need magic; it needs strength, discipline, and strategy. Magic is secondary here.' He began to plan again, but this time, his focus was sharper. Magic would be useful, but only if used wisely. The true strength of his kingdom would lie in its people—their loyalty, their training, and their ability to adapt.

'First, I need to deal with the immediate threats, and then I can start rebuilding from the ground up.' He glanced at the stack of papers in front of him, his mind now clear, the plans laid out before him. There was no more time for hesitation. The kingdom needed action, and Edmund was ready to give it.

End of chap.