The heavy oak door of the upper study closes with a hollow thud, cutting off the damp, sulfurous scent of the bathhouse below. Sunlight streams through the narrow glass panes, illuminating millions of dust motes dancing in the warm air. Onaga sets a wooden tray down on the sprawling teak desk, which is imported from Xalathi Empire, the porcelain cups clinking softly against a polished brass teapot.
Aldo steps toward the leather-bound armchair, his fingers tapping a rhythmic, nervous cadence against his thigh. He looks at the three boys surrounding the map-covered table.
"I suggest Pragmatism," Aldo says, his voice flat, his dark eyes staring directly at Onaga. "That is the foundation. Strip away the sentimental garbage, analyze the material conditions, and execute what works."
Onaga doesn't look up from his teapot. He carefully fills a cup, steam rising to bathe his delicate features. He sets the pot down with a soft, deliberate click.
"Put your pragmatism in your locker, please, Lourdes will grill you if you bring that up." Onaga whispers, his voice smooth, unyielding, and quiet.
Aldo's jaw tightens. The muscle along his cheeks twitches. He looks at Onaga, then at Hano, who is leaning casually against the windowsill, and finally at Comtois, who is running a hand through his damp, light hair. A low, sharp laugh escapes Aldo's throat, tinged with bitter disappointment.
"Unbelievable," Aldo mutters, his fingers curling into tight fists at his sides. "People are too heavily influenced by tribalism. You'd rather wrap yourselves in comforting labels than look at the brutal reality right in front of your faces."
Without waiting for a response, Aldo spins on his heel. His boots strike the hardwood floor in rapid, heavy thumps. He jerks the study door open, steps out into the hallway, and slams it behind him so hard the windowpanes rattle in their leaded frames.
Silence settles over the room. Outside, a solitary crow alights on a pine branch beyond the window, its dark feathers rustling against the rough needles before it lets out a single, harsh caw.
Hano rests his elbows on the sill, watching the crow fly off into the blue sky. "Well. That went well."
Comtois shifts his weight, the heavy floorboards creaking under his broad frame. He pulls a wooden chair out and sits down with a deep grunt, resting his thick forearms on his knees. His gaze settles on the empty parchment laid out on the table.
"Alright," Comtois begins, his deep voice filling the space left by Aldo's departure. "Economics first. I'm thinking about the model. Capitalism, obviously, but what kind? Nordic? Or maybe Ordoliberal?"
Hano turns his head slowly, his brow furrowing as he squints at Comtois. "Where on earth did you hear those terms?"
Comtois shrugs his broad shoulders, a brief, sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth before he smooths his expression. "I found it interesting while browsing online back before we got summoned. Had a lot of free time."
Onaga sits down across from Comtois, smoothing his tunic over his knees. His fair skin catches the morning light, making his refined, almost feminine features stand out against the dark wood of the room. He tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes earnest.
"I think we should follow a Welfare State," Onaga says softly, leaning forward. "If we don't build a safety net, we are no better than the overseers in the mines. People need food, medical care, and protection when they fall."
Hano snorts, pushing himself away from the window and taking a step toward the table. His facial expression hardens, his eyes narrowing as he looks down at Onaga.
"Welfare is secondary, Wealth is first..." Hano retorts, his voice sharp and dismissive. "You can't distribute what you haven't created, Onaga. The main thing—the only thing that matters at the start—is a dynamic economy and abundant jobs. If people are working, they are eating."
Onaga doesn't flinch. He holds Hano's gaze, his chin lifting slightly. "Welfare helps the disadvantaged and distributes wealth so power doesn't concentrate in the hands of a few wealthy merchants. If you leave it entirely to the market, the weak get crushed."
Hano steps closer, standing directly over Onaga's chair. He doesn't say a word. He simply stares down at Onaga, his chest rising and falling with steady, deliberate breaths, his dark eyes cold and unblinking.
The silence stretches between them, heavy and suffocating. A breeze blows through the small vent in the wall, carrying the scent of pine pitch and damp earth.
Onaga's posture slumps slightly. He lowers his eyes to his teacup, his fingers fidgeting with the ceramic handle.
"Fine," Onaga murmurs, his voice dropping an octave as he backs down. "Welfare is already extensive in theory and doesn't need to be expanded right away. What's more important is being rich first before having welfare."
The heavy door creaks open. Aldo steps back into the room, his stride calm and measured, his previous sulking completely gone as if it had never happened. He walks straight to the table, pulling out a chair, and sits down, resting his chin on his hands.
"I choose Ordoliberal," Aldo declares smoothly, his voice devoid of anger. "Balancing the state and the private sector. The state sets the rules of the game to prevent monopolies and maintain order, but lets the market drive efficiency."
Comtois scratches his chin, his thick fingers rasping against his light stubble. "I choose Laissez-faire."
Hano turns to Aldo, tapping two fingers firmly against the wooden tabletop to emphasize his point. "I choose State Capitalism. Capitalism can only function effectively if it has a strong, solid foundation built by an authority that can't be bought."
Onaga raises both hands, palms facing outward, his eyes wide as he looks between the three of them. "Wait, stop! Everyone stop for a second! Let's vote first before we start arguing in circles."
Aldo raises his hand, his expression sharp and analytical. "If we each vote for our own single preference, we'll be stuck in a deadlocked tie forever. I suggest we each vote for two options." He raises two fingers. "I'll go first: Ordoliberalism and State Capitalism."
Hano immediately raises his hand, nodding approvingly at Aldo. "I choose State Capitalism and Dirigisme: a French historical model where the government exerts strong directive influence over investment, national industrial policies, and economic planning without directly owning all assets."
Comtois doesn't hesitate, jumping in right after Hano. "I choose Laissez-Faire and State Capitalism."
Onaga's jaw drops slightly. His eyes dart rapidly from Aldo to Hano, then to Comtois. His hands flutter in mid-air in visible panic.
"How come State Capitalism has three votes already?" Onaga stammers, his voice squeaking slightly. He lets out a defeated sigh, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. "Well... I'll choose State Capitalism too."
Aldo folds his hands together on the table, a tiny, satisfied smirk touching the corner of his lips. "So, we choose Capitalism, specifically State Capitalism."
Aldo leans forward, his dark eyes scanning the three boys sitting around him. The air in the room feels charged, focused. Outside, the steady rustle of leaves in the Central Mikhland forest provides a background rhythm to the quiet room.
"Specifically," Aldo continues, his tone dropping into a low, methodical register, "what kind of State Capitalism is everyone thinking of? I am thinking about Sovereign Wealth investment—where the state acts as an institutional investor, acquiring equity stakes in domestic and global private companies via Sovereign Wealth Funds to generate wealth or secure strategic assets without running daily operations. And Strategic Planning—where the state does not necessarily own the enterprises, but tightly steers private businesses through directive economic planning, targeted credit allocation, trade protection, and targeted subsidies. What are everyone's thoughts?"
Comtois blinks, his mouth opening slightly in genuine astonishment. He stares at Aldo, his brow furrowed as he processes the dense concepts.
"Wow," Comtois breathes, shaking his head slowly. "I haven't thought of that yet." He scratches the back of his neck, leaning back in his chair. "So I'll go along with your idea."
Hano leans across the table, his eyes sharp as he looks directly into Aldo's face. "Will you privatize the State-Owned Enterprises after they are running smoothly?"
Aldo tilts his head, his face unreadable. "Maybe."
Hano nods once, a firm, decisive motion. "Then I'll go along with your idea."
Onaga throws his head back, letting out a loud, dramatic groan that echoes off the wooden walls. He slumps down in his chair until his chin almost touches his chest.
"Oh my god, everyone's going ALL IN!" Onaga complains, throwing his hands up in mock despair. He sits up, pointing an accusing finger at Aldo, his expression turning deadly serious. "Oh well, fine, remember to add Welfare, Aldo."
Aldo gives a single, firm nod. "Of course."
Onaga lets out a long breath, adjusting his tunic and sitting up straight. A small, polite smile returns to his face as he looks around the table.
"Great, everyone," Onaga says, clapping his hands together once with a crisp sound. "Let's move on to another topic: Political Models."
Onaga leans over his notepad, his dark eyes bright with idealism as he looks up at the group. He taps his charcoal pencil against the paper.
"I propose Democracy," Onaga says, his voice clear and hopeful.
Hano reacts instantly. His head snaps toward Onaga, his face twisting into an expression of sharp disdain. He lets out a harsh, barking scoff.
"Are you out of your mind, femboy?" Hano snaps, leaning across the table until his face is inches from Onaga's. "On Earth, the people of the First World, with their supposedly progressive and liberal education, are still being lure into utopian populism every single election cycle. Do you honestly think it's feasible here, with 90% or more of the population being illiterate farmers who have lived under feudal lords their entire lives, like in Terre?"
Onaga flinches slightly at Hano's aggressive tone, but he holds his ground, his eyes flashing with quiet stubbornness.
"No," Onaga insists, his voice trembling slightly but remaining firm. "We won't jump into it all at once. We'll start slowly. Educate them, build local councils, expand it over generations."
Aldo shifts in his seat, resting his chin in his hand as he looks out the window at the distant timber frames of Farmland's outer perimeter.
"In some towns and cities in the Palantine of Heilop, there are already elections for Male Citizens," Aldo notes casually, his voice flat and objective.
Onaga turns to Aldo, his eyebrows drawing together in a deep frown. "But for women, that model is still completely unfair."
Aldo turns his gaze back to Onaga, his face expressionless. "Specifically, only 5 to 10% of the total population gets to vote in those towns. So it's unfair to ordinary people in general, not just women. Besides, that kind of timocracy model is suitable for the current conditions. Modern Western-style democracies with Universal Suffrage have only recently emerged on Earth after centuries of violent institutional evolution."
Aldo lifts his right hand off the table, holding it high in the air.
"Raise your hand if you support me," Aldo instructs, his eyes sweeping the room. "For Selective Suffrage in towns and cities based on property and literacy, and for provinces, Appointed Bureaucrats directly controlled by the central authority."
Aldo keeps his hand raised. Hano doesn't hesitate for a single second; his hand shoots up into the air. Comtois looks at Aldo, then at Hano, and immediately raises his broad, heavy hand right after.
Onaga's mouth gapes open. He waves both hands wildly in front of his chest, his face flushing red with frustration.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Onaga protests, his voice rising in panic. "That's not fair! Three people voting as one block before I can even counter!"
Onaga takes a deep breath, clutching his notepad to his chest. He looks around the table, his eyes pleading.
"So... Republicanism," Onaga says, his voice softer, more careful. "A constitutional republic without a monarch. Who agrees?"
Aldo, Hano, and Comtois speak in absolute unison, their voices merging into a single, synchronized response.
"I agree."
Hano taps his fingers against his chin, his dark eyes narrowing as he considers the volatile political climate of Heilop. "What if Republicanism doesn't succeed? What if the local nobility and the military apparatus refuse to accept a republic?"
Onaga nods slowly, his expression turning solemn. "Then we need Constitutionalism—a strictly limited Constitutional Monarchy—if the monarchy for Heilop still exists after the civil war."
Comtois nods his heavy head, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Okay, that's settled then."
Outside, the late morning sun hangs high over Central Mikhland, casting sharp, dark shadows beneath the towering pine trees that line the edge of Farmland. The air is warm, fragrant with the scent of crushed needles, damp clover, and fresh timber resin.
Lourdes Renaud stands near the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree, resting her back against the rough bark. Her arms are crossed tightly over her worn leather vest. Her sharp, hollowed face is partially shaded by the canopy above, her dark brown eyes fixed unblinkingly on the door of the administrative building. She shifts her weight, her worn boots digging into the soft dirt.
The heavy wooden door opens. Onaga steps out onto the dirt path, holding a rolled-up sheet of thick, handmade paper in his hands. He takes a deep breath of the fresh forest air, his delicate face wearing a tentative, nervous expression as he spots Lourdes waiting under the oak.
He walks over to her, his steps slow and deliberate.
Lourdes pushes herself off the tree trunk as he approaches. Her posture instantly tightens into a rigid, defensive stance, her dark eyes darting to the scroll in his hands.
"Well?" Lourdes demands, her raspy voice cutting through the rustle of the oak leaves.
Onaga stops a few paces away, unrolling the paper with meticulous care. He looks up at her, offering a faint, apologetic smile.
"We have finalized our position, Renaud," Onaga begins softly, trying to keep his tone warm and constructive. "Regarding the economic and political structure for the Heilop initiative—"
"Initiative?" Lourdes interrupts, her upper lip curling back in sharp disgust. She takes a step toward him, her height giving her a clear view over Onaga's shorter frame. "You call the liberation of human beings an 'initiative'?"
Onaga unrolls the paper fully, holding it out so she can see the neat, precise ink script written across the page.
"Please, just listen," Onaga pleads, his voice gentle. "For the economy, we agreed on State Capitalism with strategic planning and sovereign wealth investments, balanced with a baseline welfare system to protect the disadvantaged. Politically, we are proposing a Constitutional Republic with selective suffrage in urban areas and appointed bureaucrats for the provinces."
Lourdes stares at the paper as if it were a venomous snake. Her eyes widen in absolute horror, her pale face turning even paler as her cheekbones stand out in stark relief.
"Selective suffrage?" she whispers, her raspy voice trembling with sudden, explosive fury. She steps closer, towering over Onaga, her fists clenching so tightly that her scarred knuckles turn ghost-white. "Appointed bureaucrats? State capitalism? You are rebuilding the very same tyrannical apparatus that put the iron chains around our necks!"
Onaga steps back, holding his hands up defensively while keeping the paper firmly in his grip. "Renaud, please! Try to understand the practical constraints! Over ninety percent of the population in Terre in general and Heilop in particular are illiterate peasants! If you give universal suffrage overnight without an educated electorate, corrupt demagogues and old feudal lords will simply buy their votes with grain!"
"So you strip them of their voice before they even have a chance to speak?" Lourdes roars, her raspy voice cracking under the intense strain. Her dark eyes blaze with a fierce, wild hatred. "You sit in your clean study with your teacups and your ledgers, playing with human rights as if they were numbers on a balance sheet! You are cowards! You are creating a new class of masters, and you're painting it over with 'welfare' so the slaves don't revolt!"
Onaga's face pouts, his eyebrows pulling together in distress as he tries to maintain his composure. "We are trying to create a stable state that won't collapse into civil war and starvation within six months! Idealism without structure leads directly to disaster!"
"Your 'structure' is just a cleaner prison!" Lourdes screams, her body shaking with pure, unadulterated rage. She reaches out, grabbing Onaga by the lapels of his tunic, jerking him forward. "My people bled in the dirt for freedom! Not for 'selective suffrage'! Not for 'strategic planning'! We bled for absolute liberty!"
Onaga gasps, his hands clutching at her scarred, calloused wrists, but her grip is like wire cable forged in the mines.
"Enough."
The voice is not loud, but it carries a terrifying, icy weight that freezes the air around them.
Lourdes's head snaps to the side.
Aldo steps out from behind the shadow of the administrative building. His hands are buried deep in the pockets of his long coat. His fair skin is pale in the dappled sunlight, his expression completely blank, devoid of anger, pity, or hesitation. His dark eyes look at Lourdes as if she were a total stranger.
Lourdes slowly releases Onaga's tunic. Onaga stumbles back, clutching his chest and breathing heavily, his eyes wide as he looks between the two of them.
Aldo takes three slow, measured steps toward Lourdes, stopping just beyond her arm's reach. The wind rustles through the pine needles above, casting shifting shadows across his motionless face.
"Renaud," Aldo says, his tone completely flat, dropping like a heavy iron door between them. "You should act alone with your comrades. We're going to Ofliran far south in a few days."
Without waiting for a response, without a single glance at Onaga or the unrolled manifesto, Aldo turns his back on her. He begins walking down the dirt path toward the central barracks, his boots striking the ground in a steady, unhurried rhythm.
Lourdes stands frozen in the dirt track. Her mouth hangs slightly open, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Her eyes stare at Aldo's retreating back in total shock.
"Aldo!" she screams, her voice echoing harshly off the wooden walls of the surrounding huts and lost in the vast expanse of the forest. "Aldo, stop! Look at me!"
Aldo doesn't slow down. He doesn't turn his head. He continues walking, his long coat swaying slightly with his even stride, stepping past the fields of green clover toward the horizon.
Lourdes breaks into a run. Her worn boots pound against the dirt track as she chases after him, her graying chestnut hair flying wildly around her sharp, weathered face.
Onaga watches her go, letting out a long, shuddering sigh that shoulders drop in total exhaustion. He rolls the parchment back up, resting his forehead against the cold, smooth paper as the dust from her footfalls settles gently in the warm morning sun.