July 12, Upper City, Princess’s Bedroom
A summer morning should have been bright, but a lingering thin mist shrouded the Capital Lucien like a veil of gauze.
This mist carried a subtle, unpleasant dampness, as if it were the decaying breath of the earth, making even the sunshine appear weak and listless.
Inside Princess Charlotte Durand’s bedroom, light filtered through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, softened into muted tones by heavy velvet curtains.
The scent of decay did not reach this place; instead, there was only the faint aroma of book ink and the pleasant fragrance of dried flowers.
Unlike the typical image of a princess’s boudoir filled with lace, jewelry, and fine clothes, this room looked more like the office of a high-ranking administrative official.
Towering bookshelves were packed with various texts, ranging from the Kingdom Code to financial reports, and from historical biographies to military theories.
On the large desk, piles of processed and unprocessed documents were stacked into two precarious small hills.
The only things reflecting the owner’s youthful spirit were perhaps a few carefully preserved old dolls in the corner and a portrait on the wall.
The painting depicted a noble lady who bore a striking resemblance to Charlotte.
Her eyes were gentle and her smile serene, as if she were quietly watching over her hardworking daughter.
Charlotte rubbed her bleary eyes and sat up from the soft, large bed, her long golden hair draped lazily over her shoulders.
Stripped of the layers of glory that came with being the “Moderate Faction Leader” and “Princess of the Kingdom,” at this moment she was merely a sleep-deprived 16-year-old girl with a hint of fatigue on her face.
Her slender shoulders looked as if they might be crushed by the heavy weight of the Kingdom at any time.
“Your Highness, your schedule for today has been arranged.”
A voice identical to her own, yet devoid of any emotion, rang out.
Charlotte looked up. Another “herself” dressed in a standard maid’s uniform—Charlotte—was holding a set of complex court attire, waiting quietly.
With the double’s skillful assistance, Charlotte began one of the most annoying parts of her day.
The corset was tightened loop by loop, tracing the graceful curves the girl had begun to develop.
Layers of petticoats, bustles, and outer skirts were put on in succession, like a magnificent but heavy shackle for a beautiful bird.
Once the final outer coat, adorned with exquisite lace and small gemstones, was buttoned up, Charlotte looked at her radiant reflection in the mirror but felt only a bone-deep exhaustion.
“What is the schedule for today, Charlotte?” she asked softly.
The other Charlotte glanced at the list in her hand and read in a flat tone:
“9:00 AM, Privy Council special meeting on financial reform.”
“11:00 AM, inspection of the Royal Mint.”
“2:00 PM, consultation with Robe Nobility representatives regarding the Universal Property Tax Draft.”
“4:00 PM, briefing by the Urban Planning Committee on the Old City District renovation.”
“5:00 PM, hearing the report on the first batch of candidates for rural magistrates.”
“Evening, you are required to attend a charity gala for the war orphans of Pannotia.”
“So many meetings?” Charlotte’s mind whirred as she realized the situation. She gave a helpless, bitter smile. “Has our new Minister of Finance’s policy officially been released?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The double picked up a newspaper that had just been delivered and offered it with both hands. “Sent by Viscount Bernard’s people, the latest issue of the Lorraine Gazette.”
Charlotte took the newspaper and walked to the desk, reading carefully by the light from the window.
As she read through the reform details—each one seemingly moderate but hiding lethal intent, everywhere dripping with the sinister implication of “boiling a frog in lukewarm water”—the last traces of morning sleepiness vanished completely.
She was very much awake now.
As the actual helmsman of the Kingdom’s administration, no one knew better than she how large a storm would be kicked up once these policies were implemented.
“Father really didn’t pick the wrong person,” Charlotte laughed with a mixture of admiration and helplessness.
“Once those nobles realize what’s happening today, they’ll go mad with anxiety.”
“Should your meetings be canceled?” the double asked.
“Hmm… cancel the useless ones for me. For those where I don’t need to speak or only need to give a brief statement, you go in my place.”
Charlotte made a quick decision. “Today, I expect many core figures of the Moderate Faction will want to see me privately. It seems it’s time for another hard battle.”
“You were busy all day yesterday as well. Would you like to rest for a moment now?”
‘I don’t even have to think to know that my annoying brother will definitely be here soon.’
Charlotte put down the newspaper and tidied her appearance in the mirror, ensuring she still looked energetic and radiant.
She turned around and gently touched the double’s cheek, looking closely at the face that was identical to her own, and smiled sincerely.
“You have done an excellent job as my double. Sigh, if it weren’t for you, I can’t imagine… if I had to push these policies through while working around the clock alone, I’d surely drop dead from exhaustion.”
“You are working hard.” The double lowered her eyelids slightly, returning to that hollow, doll-like aura.
The “Deep Sea” of the Dawn’s Children had become the perfect shadow under the Royal Family’s special training.
When acting as a maid, she withdrew all her radiance and was as humble as dust; yet once she played the Princess, she could switch modes instantly.
Whether it was her posture, her manner of speaking, or her innate nobility, she was indistinguishable from the original.
Meetings that were time-consuming, inefficient, yet mandatory were now mostly handled by her.
Charlotte was growing increasingly fond of this “sister.”
Since Bernard was now completely tied to the Royal Family’s chariot, she didn’t care whether the double was a spy or not.
This tool was simply too convenient; not using it would be a waste.
Her gaze fell on the newly printed copy of Andersen’s Fairy Tales on the desk, which had been sent along as a gift from Bernard.
She shook her head and sighed softly, “Fairy tales are all lies. Being a princess… is not a good career at all.”
Having witnessed the Princess’s daily routine, the double naturally understood her complaint.
Every noblewoman in the Kingdom longed for a princess’s life, imagining it meant ultimate luxury and romance.
In reality, at an age where other girls were pampered by their families, Charlotte had become a poor workhorse drowned in a sea of documents and meetings.
She did not dare to relax even slightly. If she slackened just a bit, a section of the central Bureaucratic System would rot, and that decay would inevitably spread until the local regions were completely ruined.
Of course, such a predicament was precisely proof that the Durand Family still cared for their subjects.
In the neighboring Empire, the rulers didn’t have nearly as many worries.
All crises could be solved with blood and violence. Curiously, this method of cutting through the Gordian knot was indeed terrifyingly efficient at times.
The Empire had an extremely high mortality rate, but its birth rate was equally staggering. Frequent wars even guaranteed a certain cruel level of social mobility.
In contrast, the Lorraine Kingdom’s past hundreds of years of stability and relatively successful governance had instead led to the current multiple crises of overpopulation, land annexation, and social stratification.
This continent was inevitably sliding into the abyss of the Malthusian Trap.
War, famine, and plague would become the bloody tools used to regulate the balance between population and resources.
Unfortunately, in this era, only Allen knew the true key to breaking this desperate cycle.
Charlotte was doing her best to play the role of a renovator, and all she could do was push the fated collapse back just a little further.
Charlotte’s prediction was spot on.
With the help of a lady-in-waiting, the double changed into an identical court gown and had barely stepped out to attend the tedious Privy Council meeting when Crown Prince Charles strolled familiarly into his sister’s bedroom.
His face was filled with an unmasked, gloating smile.
“My dear sister, have you seen it?”
“I have.” Charlotte gave him an annoyed look. “Those reform details have nothing to do with you, do they, Brother? In the end, I’m the one who has to implement them. So, did you come specifically to laugh at me?”
Charles walked over without ceremony, picked up Charlotte’s untouched breakfast, and began eating it himself.
“What’s wrong with visiting my poor sister before I leave?” he said, his voice muffled by food.
“Hmm?” Charlotte caught the keyword.
She looked at the sharp military dress uniform Charles had pointedly worn today. “Where are you going? Has our war with the Empire finally broken out?”
“I’m going to clean up the mess for our Minister of Finance and our dear father, of course,” Charles explained after swallowing a piece of bread.
“The Minister of Finance’s reform plan did indeed make Father very happy. I’ve read it carefully; these reforms look moderate on the surface, leaving room for compromise everywhere, but behind them, one can faintly see Father’s unique, sinister style.”
He picked up the Lorraine Gazette from the desk and pointed to a policy regarding “encouraging the reclamation of wasteland and providing low-interest loans,” sneering:
“Think about it. Once these reforms are implemented, they won’t cause a violent backlash initially; some policies might even benefit those fools. But… once the foundation is laid, the resistance to the more radical reforms that follow will be much smaller. This Minister of Finance is just a shield Father pushed to the front. Essentially, these are all things Father wants to do. He likely believes the time has come to act.”
“Sigh, poor Viscount Bernard.” Charlotte said the words, but a smile identical to Charles’s appeared on her face. “The road to power always requires a price. So, Brother, what is your price?”
Charles changed the subject. “When is your Rebirth Banquet scheduled for?”
“July 20.”
“That’s fine, then. I’ll make it,” Charles said with a sigh of relief. “The price your brother is paying is that you won’t be seeing me for the next few months.”
Seeing his sister’s puzzled expression, Charles threw up his hands.
“While the talk of reform is still fermenting, I have to take those Sword-Bearing Nobles who are bored to death in the Capital out of here. I need to get them away from the eye of the storm. In the coming months, we will hold an unprecedented Royal Hunt. Every Sword-Bearing Noble will be granted special permission by Father to leave the Capital.”
“A Royal Hunt?” Charlotte certainly knew of this traditional Kingdom event.
“It’s true the national treasury has been tight, and this event has been suspended for several years. But if I recall, isn’t the best season for hunting in late autumn? That’s when the prey is the fattest.”
“The arrow is notched; it must be fired, my dear sister.” Charles understood the mechanics behind it better than she did.
“The benefits are numerous. First, hunting allows those guys with too much energy to release the bloodlust for war in their veins. At the same time, a nationwide tour allows local nobles to join, improving the so-called relationship between the center and the provinces. It also satisfies the vanity of those fools in the Capital.”
“Second, this is a disguised form of war mobilization. It’s not just a hunt; it’s a show of force to tell the imperialists next door that our swords haven’t rusted yet.”
“Third, and most importantly,” Charles’s smile turned cold, “it distracts their excessive energy. Letting them stay in the Capital will only lead to them networking and plotting conspiracies. Right now, with the reform policies coming out, we absolutely cannot let them unite against Father. Letting them head out with their private guards—and perhaps visit the lands ‘managed’ by the Royal Family on their behalf—will help them regain some confidence that they are still in control. It can stabilize them for a while.”
“I will stall them for these few months. By the time they return to the Capital, the reforms will be a settled matter. The die will have been cast.”
“Brother, when did you become a reformer?” Charlotte joked with a smile.
“We are family,” Charles’s answer was simple and powerful.
The siblings discussed the implementation details of the reform for a moment longer before each prepared to step onto their respective battlefields.