Chapter 80

"My thinking here is..." I paused, gathering my words. "Look, at some point, a war between Vega and Carmine is going to break out. When that war does break out, we are going to crush the armies of Vega and kill the reigning King. So... when that does happen, we're going to want someone to put on the throne afterwards. And what I want to know, Nicky, is... do you want to be the King of Vega? Or would you rather hand off that role to a puppet who'll do what we say, and then we'll have a bunch of free time we would not have if we were stuck doing administrative work in Vega ourselves?"

"...You think that you can make a puppet of my sister," Veronica said, primly. "That is..." She shook her head, and dropped registers. "Roxy, I grew up with her. That's not happening."

"I think it should be well within our capabilities to convince her to see things our way," I said dryly. "Among other things, we can simply avoid wiping off the blood before handing her the crown."

"...As little as I like my sister, I do still feel that threatening her with death is a touch unwarranted," Nicky said. "Even if that is the only way to keep her in line."

"I'm sure I can convince her more peaceably," I said, shrugging.

Nicky chewed on this for a moment, and then sighed.

"...You're right that I don't want the crown," Nicky said. "Except... maybe as an accessory to you publicly making me your bitch. That could be hot."

"Tangent," Ariel said.

"Right. I don't want the crown. And Vanessa, being older than me, has somewhat more inherent legitimacy than me, if we're going to advance the theory that the line of succession can, in fact, go through betas. So... if you can, somehow, actually convince her to take the crown and play along with your plans, then... sure." Nicky shrugged. "If you can accomplish that, then I'll go along with it. But... I don't expect you to succeed, so, I'm going to try to think of alternatives."

"Also," Ariel said, "your darling fiancee Penelope wishes to speak with you at earliest convenience."

"Ah, right," I said, nodding. "Okay, I'll go talk to her, and after that... I'll start working on Vanessa."

"Good luck," Nicky said. "You'll need it."

---

Princess Penelope Dorn- or was it Duchess Penelope Shang?- much like the Vegas I was hosting, had her own glass-dome penthouse suite at the top of a tower, and when I walked in, I found her at her desk, a book splayed open to one side while she scribbled down notes to the other side.

Penelope, like her father, wore simple clothes in private- the first time I'd visited her in her room, she'd been wearing a bureaucrat's three-piece suit sans the jacket, but now she had downgraded even further to only a simple robe that I knew for a fact she'd gotten from the vending machine downstairs, with the sleeves rolled up to keep them out of her way.

Her figure, while not quite as on-display in the loose, unfitted robe as it had been in her slacks and button-down, was still identifiably an archetypal beta's figure: middle of the road in height, breadth, muscle, and curves. Her shoulders were neither strong nor weak, her tits firmly in the realm of medium, and when she stood, I could only barely see the top of her head, from which grew long, golden-blonde hair- I had no idea what her mother looked like, but evidently she'd been more blonde than Rebecca Dorn had been.

She was young, but not outrageously so- very early 20s, somewhere around the same age as Akane and Nicky, although, certainly without the fulsome figures they carried that made them look more mature than the 22 year olds they actually were.

"Ah, you're here," Penelope said, looking up from her work. "Your Familiar, Ariel, gave me this report on your policies so far. Fascinating stuff, I must say. I wanted to ask you about it, and hear about the theory behind all this."

"...Well, unfortunately, I just explained the economic theory behind the Beggar's Ride Project," I said. "So I'm a touch hesitant to go over that a second time."

"Oh, that part was explained clearly in the report," Penelope said. "It would've been quite short, otherwise- 'step one, give every alpha, omega, and child in this city ten silver a month, step two, repeat.' No, what I wanted to know was... how did you come up with all of this?"

"I'm from another world, with different ideas about economics and politics," I said. "And while I could give you the full semester of introductory macroeconomics I got in college, right now I'm going to be far, far more brief."

"Fair enough. What's your thesis statement?"

"I am not a ruler," I said. "My position of authority over everyone who lives in Shang is not property that I am entitled to. I am a leader, and a leader whose actions are not benefiting their people is worthless to their people, a freeloading aristocrat who simply hasn't bled their people dry yet. So, as the Duke of Shang, my responsibility is to do everything in my power to ensure that everyone who lives in Shang lives a good life, unburdened by poverty and misery, and if I'm not doing that... what fucking good am I?"

"I see, I see..." Penelope said, nodding slowly. "So... hrm. There's a genre of book called 'mirrors for princes,' if you're familiar with them?"

"I know the concept, but I haven't read any of them," I said.

"It may be a good idea to read a few, but that isn't the point currently," Penelope said, shaking her head. "My point is that the most recent mirror for princes commissioned by the Crown, the Dornish Handbook For Rulers, frames a ruler's responsibilities as investing in their people, because it is their people who produce everything of value. And while that is regarded as more progressive and humanistic than the old Vegan tradition of prioritizing traditions of honor and class... you're on a level beyond that, aren't you?"

"Yes and no," I said. "It would seem that both the Handbook and I understand the realities of the situation well enough, we're simply optimizing for different end goals. The Handbook's goal is, ultimately, the enrichment of the ruler, through a set of hard-nosed and pragmatic principles that involve improving the lives of your subjects, but only insofar as they are productive, and you're getting a return on your investment. It certainly looks like compassion, but frankly, it's just the lens of a competent sociopath who regards their people without even the mild warmth a Rancher feels for their livestock. I, however, am secure enough to feel like the common woman on the streets has nothing worth the effort of taking, and so I instead pursue the end goal of making life better for everyone. To your Handbook, the people are cattle to be milked and sheep to be shorn. To me, they're housecats to be fed and watered, and given a clean litterbox."

"...Litterbox?" Penelope asked. "Apologies, I know you said far, far more important things just then, but..."

"A mixture of sand and small pellets of dry clay can absorb urine quite well," I said. "That's the litter, and a box full of it can be kept indoors to allow cats to be kept inside at all times, with the litterbox providing a mostly-sanitary place for them to relieve themselves."

"I see..." Penelope said, nodding. "Mm. Well, I can certainly see the sense in your vision, although, I must confess, most of the other noble houses in Dorn are... significantly less enlightened than House Dorn tries to be, and will likely give you tremendous amounts of grief over your soft-hearted treatment of the common folk. I strongly recommend reading the Handbook, darling."

"That's what you're for," I said dismissively. "On paper, at least, you're the one who's technically in charge here, which I am using as an excuse to deal with as few aristocrats as possible."

"I'm not asking you to take tea with Diana Ironborn," Penelope said firmly. "I'm asking you to read a single book that is barely more than one hundred pages. I'm told you're a Level 13 Wizard, and I have every confidence you could start reading it now, and be finished in the time it takes me to make a pot of tea."

"...Alright," I said, sighing. "You have a copy of it, or..?"

"Here," she said, producing a well-worn book from her inventory. "This is my own personal copy, with a few pages of notes stuck in here and there."

I grunted as I accepted the book, and examined it carefully, as the binding stood out to me. It was rough, lacking a hard spine entirely, and with covers that were very transparently just stiff cardboard with a printed paper cover-sheet glued on; the stitching was exposed, as it connected the cardboard covers to the signatures and the signatures to each other. This was very much not a showpiece.

I cracked the book open and began to read it. The book's central idea revolved around the ideal king being two-faced; the king should be seen performing 'proper' kingship by their aristocratic vassals, but should also be going behind their vassals' backs to get the real work done.

Which, y'know. Sure, a hard-nosed focus on specific, actionable goals and the related material conditions is a perfectly reasonable way to do civic administration, and dressing up that pragmatism with a polite veneer of diplomacy and geniality is a good way to make sure you can keep doing that, in a context where you don't have absolute authority and other people can meaningfully resist you.

But also, Rebecca Dorn grew up reading a book telling her that the ideal method of kingship was to be a two-faced snake, and knowing that made it difficult to trust her. This is why vassalage-based governments promote honor and loyalty and trustworthiness as virtues, because for the whole thing to work, you have to be able to trust your liege and your vassals to keep their word.

But... well. I kinda shouldn't trust Rebecca Dorn, should I? I already knew she was a snake- that's what all aristocrats are. Sure, she was helpful now, but only because she thought it would benefit her. Even the fact that I was now engaged to enter a political marriage with her daughter didn't convince me I was anything more than a particularly useful pawn to her.

"...It's given me a lot to think about," I said, as I finished the book. "The segment on dealing with unruly vassals was... a bit unpleasant, but I suppose that's the nature of the situation itself, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Penelope said, nodding. "Now, it would seem you've exceeded my expectations; this blend will need another minute to steep before it's ready to serve."

"Fine by me," I said. "It's occurred to me, while reading this book, that I have an important question to ask you: are you okay with me having, y'know, multiple girlfriends? What with, y'know, us being engaged and all..."

"It's quite alright with me," Penelope said. "I'm well aware our engagement is political, darling; while I would appreciate romance and intimacy between us, I hardly expect it, and I certainly don't expect exclusiveness. Now, do you take your tea with milk, sugar, any of that?"

"To be completely honest, I'm not much of a tea person," I said. "I used to drink a lot of sweet tea, but that was less tea and more brown-colored sugar-water."

"...Three sugars for you, then," Penelope said, already spooning sugar into my cup. "The accommodations may vary wildly, but one must make them for one's colleagues, nonetheless."