Building a Modern Nation in a Fantasy World

Lucien could understand if Arthur had claimed Keldoria might survive an invasion. Barely. With bruises and blood, perhaps. That much, while laughably optimistic, still hovered within the realm of possibility.

But to claim that Keldoria could win and even defeat Chronos?

That wasn't just madness.

That was suicide dressed in royal silk.

Lucien struggled to suppress the urge to scoff. The difference between their nations wasn't a gap—it was a canyon. Chronos had a population ten times the size of Keldoria. Its military was a professional, disciplined, and armed with knight, mages and much more advance siege weapon that had crushed rebellions and rival kingdoms for over a century. Keldoria, on the other hand, had only recently restructured its military from a fractured, feudal mess into something barely resembling a national force. Arthur Tesla's reforms might have impressed his court, but against Chronos? They would be dust in the wind.

Lucien told himself all this, repeated it like a mantra to keep his footing.

And yet… something inside him had begun to fray.

He couldn't shake the image of Arthur's cold and calculating eyes as a knight's blood soaked into the marble just moments ago. He couldn't shake the calmness with which Arthur described Chronos's own hidden war plans, down to the very tactics buried in confidential scrolls locked within the royal war chambers.

That kind of composure wasn't the result of reckless arrogance.

It was the confidence of a man who knew something others didn't.

A man who had a plan.

Still, Lucien had to push back. Had to test him one more time.

"Your Majesty," he said, voice steady despite the flicker of uncertainty in his chest, "do you truly believe that Keldoria could topple Chronos? I admit, your schemes are clever. You might have exposed our methods, yes. But cleverness alone does not defeat armies. Strategy does not swing a sword."

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate. "No matter how much you posture, the truth remains: the power difference between our nations is like heaven and earth. We could raze your capital within a week."

And for a moment, just a moment, Lucien saw Arthur smile.

Not a wide grin. Not a triumphant smirk.

Just a subtle, knowing curl of the lips that made the back of Lucien's neck prickle.

Arthur's voice came low and smooth, like the whisper of a blade unsheathed in a quiet room.

"Hmm… You're absolutely right, Lucien Vale," he said. "There is no chance—none at all—that Keldoria could defeat Chronos."

Lucien exhaled slightly, almost relieved.

And then Arthur's gaze sharpened.

"But tell me something, Lucien… do you really think I don't know that?"

Lucien froze. The shift was subtle, but unmistakable—like the sudden stillness before a blade is drawn.

"You think I'm delusional," Arthur said, each word slow and deliberate, "That I'm clinging to some inflated sense of power. That killing your knight was a childish outburst, a tantrum in gold-plated robes."

He tilted his head just slightly, not smiling—just observing, dissecting.

"But if I truly believed there was no path to victory… Do you honestly think I would have provoked you here, now, in this hall, in front of witnesses from both kingdoms? Do you think I would've wagered the safety of Keldoria on a bluff?"

His fingers rested against the armrest, tapping once—then still.

"I'm not gambling with Keldoria's future, Lucien," he said, voice calm as stone. "I did what I did… because I have a way to win."

Lucien didn't speak. But the silence wasn't a triumph for him. It was a trap—because in that silence, his mind began to spiral.

What Arthur said… made sense.

At first, when Arthur had refused to pay one million gold they'd squeezed from Keldoria in the name of "helping" Lucien thought the situation was salvageable. Heated, sure. Risky, definitely. But not irreversible. A few stern letters, a show of force, and the boy-king would fall back in line. That's how it was supposed to go.

But then Arthur killed the knight.

Not with outrage. Not with theatrics.

But with terrifying intent.

That changed everything.

Lucien swallowed hard. That act had shattered the mask of civility between their kingdoms. This wasn't diplomacy anymore—it was a declaration, made in blood and silence.

He clenched his hands behind his back, keeping his face unreadable.

Is this truly a calculated strategy… or the madness of a cornered king? Lucien wondered.

But the longer he looked into Arthur Tesla's eyes—those impossibly steady, unblinking eyes—the more he felt a chill he hadn't expected.

Lucien's thoughts tightened like a noose.

Does Arthur really believe he can win? Or… worse... What if he actually can?

Lucien drew in a slow breath, steadying himself. His voice, when it came, was careful—controlled.

"So that's it?" he asked, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. "You're declaring war on Chronos?"

The words dropped like stones into the center of the great hall.

Arthur didn't answer right away.

And that silence makes everyone present more nervous.

Even Klein glanced toward the throne. Chancellor Reinhardt shifted uncomfortably. The scribes froze mid-quill and everyone else held their breath. Because what Arthur said next wouldn't just be a reply.

It would be a verdict. A line drawn in blood.

Arthur simply leaned forward on the throne, fingers steepled, his voice calm but sharp enough to slice steel.

"Well," Arthur began, "I'm not the one who decides if Keldoria goes to war."

Lucien's brows furrowed. "Then who does?"

Arthur's lips curled—half smile, half warning.

"That depends entirely on Chronos."

Lucien blinked. "What exactly do you mean by that, Your Majesty?"

Arthur exhaled lightly through his nose, amused by the question, as if Lucien had missed something obvious.

"It's simple," he said. "If Chronos is willing to waive the debt we owe and forgive the… unfortunate death of your knight, then there's no need for bloodshed. We can pretend this meeting never happened. Maintain the illusion of alliance."

Lucien stared, the corners of his mouth tightening.

"And what," he asked slowly, "makes you think Chronos would ever agree to that? Waive ten million gold? Overlook an act of open aggression against an envoy's guard, committed in the middle of a royal audience? That's fantasy."

Arthur chuckled—not loudly, but with just enough disdain to rattle the bones beneath Lucien's diplomatic mask.

"Oh, I don't think Chronos will forgive it," Arthur said, his tone suddenly louder, clearer—ringing across the stone like a judge's gavel. "But if Chronos don't… they won't just be going to war with Keldoria."

He paused, letting the tension stretch like a drawn bowstring.

"They'll be going to war with the combined forces of Keldoria and Elysia."

The words echoed like thunder against stone.

And the temperature in the great hall plummeted.

Lucien's breath caught.

For a man trained to weather diplomatic storms with an unshakable mask, the crack in his expression was telling. His eyes widened—only slightly—but enough for every observer in the hall to see. Even his jaw clenched a heartbeat too late, betraying the split-second of disbelief.

It wasn't possible.

It shouldn't be possible.

Keldoria and Elysia? Allies?

Elysia has been constantly trying to attack Keldoria but now Arthur was Telling that Keldoria would allies with Elysia who has been hostile to Keldoria for many decades. The two nations had always been locked in a quiet, bitter standoff.

And yet—Arthur said it so plainly.

So confidently.

Lucien tried to recover, but his voice faltered before it left his lips. He forced a breath, regrouped, and managed, "You're bluffing. Elysia wouldn't side with you. Not without demanding Keldoria bend the knee. Did you forget you get into debt with us because you request for our help when Elysia attack you"

Arthur tilted his head—not in denial, but in amusement.

"You're right. They would never bend the knee to us… and I would never ask them to."

Arthur's fingers drummed once against the armrest—measured, calm, like a war drum played by a general before the first strike.

"This isn't about submission," he said, voice smooth as polished steel. "This is a direct threat to Chronos."

He leaned in just slightly, not with aggression, but with certainty—the kind that dared Lucien to challenge him.

"You know as well as I do—the only reason Elysia ever stalked our borders, harassed our trade routes, and tried to choke our growth… was because they feared Chronos more than they hated us. We were never their prize. We were just the high ground they needed for a future war."

His eyes gleamed.

"So tell me, Lucien… what happens when that high ground allies with them instead of standing in their way?"

Lucien's brow furrowed slightly, trying to process the implications. Arthur gave him no time to regroup.

"You think the stalemate between Chronos and Elysia will last? That it's balance by strength?" Arthur scoffed softly. "If Elysia marches through Keldoria unhindered, with our roads, our scouts, our ports…" He gave a short, sharp smile. "Chronos will bleed and it won't have time to recover from either."

Lucien was silent.

Not out of defeat.

But calculation.

His mind raced through strategic maps, supply lines, troop deployments—anything that could explain how the world had turned upside down in just a handful of minutes. Arthur had just thrown a wrench into everything Chronos had assumed: that Keldoria was weak, isolated, ripe for manipulation.

Now?

Now Keldoria was a potential staging ground for their greatest rival.

But even as that truth settled, Lucien latched onto the flaw. He raised his eyes again, sharper this time.

"And what makes you so certain Elysia won't turn on you the moment Chronos falters?" Lucien's voice was calm, but his eyes probed. "Even during the war—they could strike while your forces are stretched thin. You'd be offering them the perfect opening."

Arthur's smile returned, colder this time—less charm, more challenge.

"Let them try." His voice carried a quiet finality. "Whether it's Chronos or Elysia, war is inevitable. I'm simply choosing who bleeds first."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on the envoy.

"So tell me, Lucien—do Chronos truly have the gut to go to war with Keldoria?"