Arknights: Prime Minister of Kjerag — Chapter 21

Chapter 21: A New Way to Make MoneyYou're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.

“Is Saint Ernst serving Kjeragandr here? I heard there are job openings. I want to sign up!”

“I am very sorry. Prime Minister Ernst does indeed work in this building, but our recruitment slots are completely full. Please keep an eye on the bulletin board outside; the moment a position opens, we will post the notice there.”

After finally ushering the last overly enthusiastic Kjerag citizen out the door, Aurora rubbed her cheeks. Her facial muscles were stiff from maintaining a polite, practiced smile all morning. She let out a long, exhausted breath, turned on her heel, and retreated into Ernst’s private office.

Ernst sat comfortably behind his desk, engaged in a casual conversation with Cliff, the renowned CEO of Blacksteel Worldwide. Hearing the door click shut, Ernst looked up at the Ursus girl and offered a helpless, knowing smile.

Aurora nodded, her face instinctively trying to form that customer-service smile again before she caught herself. “Yes. That was the one hundred and third.”

Cliff clicked his tongue, a low rumble of amusement escaping his chest. “A hundred and three walk-ins? If my Blacksteel branches could get that many people actively throwing themselves at our doors, I would never have to worry about staffing a global enterprise again.”

Ernst leaned back in his chair, pouring himself a cup of hot tea. “That is a hundred and three people today.”

The Holy Stone Judgement had concluded an entire week ago, yet the sheer weight of the miracle that manifested on the Karlan Holy Mountain showed absolutely no signs of fading from the public consciousness. Instead, as the tale of Ernst’s divine favor spread through the biting winds of Kjerag, it ignited a fierce, cascading chain reaction across the snow-capped nation.

No mortal dared question the absolute sacredness of Kjeragandr. The goddess had spoken, and her judgment was final. The two opposing forces that had clashed so violently in the Holy Stone Plaza found their fates sealed the very second the divine light faded.

Enya SilverAsh, the Saintess who had stood her ground to support Ernst and interpret Kjeragandr’s oracle as a declaration of his innocence, completely solidified her authority. Her unwavering defiance against the corrupt Grand Elder earned her an unmatched wave of reverence from the common folk.

The Grand Elder, conversely, faced utter ruin. His arrogant attempt to stand upon the Karlan Holy Mountain and twist Kjeragandr’s own oracle to execute her divinely favored champion drew the collective, venomous fury of the entire nation. The populace likened his hubris to the ancient tyrants of the Holy Stone myths. To the people of Kjerag, his manipulation of the masses and his vile slander against Enya were unforgivable acts of blasphemy against both the state and the goddess herself.

His end was entirely predictable.

The morning after the Holy Stone Judgement, the disgraced Grand Elder took his own life, kneeling in shame before Kjeragandr’s Stone deep within the Karlan Temple.

He was denied the sacred sky burial he had always demanded for himself. Instead, his corpse was unceremoniously shoved into a shallow, hastily dug grave somewhere on the temple’s outer grounds. The monks blackened his name in the ledgers, burning his portraits and chiseling his face out of the corridor murals. The moment his heart stopped, the vast web of power and wealth he had spent a lifetime hoarding dissolved into ash, his former allies scattering like frightened rats.

It was a beautiful, poetic irony.

Truthfully, while the old man’s suicide brought Ernst a deep sense of political satisfaction, it was a slight miscalculation. He had not expected the man to break so quickly. Perhaps it was a bit unfair; had the Grand Elder known the true, intimate nature of Ernst’s connection with Kjeragandr, he might have thought twice before acting so aggressively during the trial.

Regardless, the permanent removal of Kjerag’s most stubborn conservative leader—especially in such a thoroughly irredeemable manner—was a massive victory for Ernst’s administration.

Maintaining the solemn dignity required of his station, Ernst had attended the Grand Elder’s pathetic funeral in his official capacity as Prime Minister. He stood in the freezing wind, ostensibly to mourn the passing of a prominent religious figure, but practically to look down into the dirt and verify the old bastard was actually dead.

As the frozen earth was shoveled over the casket, Ernst had offered a silent, mocking eulogy in his mind.

‘Your death has contributed far more to this nation than your entire life ever did.’

It was a ruthless psychological victory, cementing his dominance over the conservative faction. Beyond the elimination of a rival, the Holy Stone Judgement gifted Ernst an extraordinary political weapon: he could now openly operate under the undisputed title of the Karlan Saint.

It was a title he had earned in blood and divine light. In hundreds of years of recorded Kjerag history, no single individual had ever compelled Kjeragandr to manifest a miracle solely for their survival.

Privately, Ernst had lobbied to change the title to something with a bit more weight, like Patriarch or Apostle, but the traditionalists had drawn a hard line there.

“It is entirely because of this new title that my modest little government office has morphed into a second Karlan Temple,” Ernst complained, though a distinct undercurrent of pride laced his tone.and support the real translator.Read at elysianreads.com This is a stolen translation. You're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.

“A hundred and three is just the morning rush. Yesterday was an absolute nightmare—over two hundred people crowded the lobby. Aurora nearly lost her voice trying to convince a mob of devout believers that we do not perform animal sacrifices, we do not chant scriptures, and we absolutely do not offer fertility blessings or fortune-telling services.”

Ernst let out a long, theatrical sigh, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. “Honestly, the sheer administrative bloat is giving me a headache.”

Cliff raised a thick eyebrow, his sharp gaze shifting to Aurora. The High Mountain Ursus girl stood quietly near the wall, her eyes fixed entirely on Ernst. A soft, rosy flush colored her pale cheeks. Catching the veteran mercenary’s perceptive stare, she blinked, quickly averting her eyes with a shy, embarrassed smile.

Completely oblivious to the quiet exchange happening in his periphery, Ernst leaned forward, fixing Cliff with a look of predatory anticipation. “So, Mr. Cliff. How about it? Care to drop a massive investment into our developing infrastructure?”

Ernst possessed zero shame when it came to funding. Blacksteel Worldwide was an international corporate titan. They operated out of their own colossal, independent Nomadic City and dominated the global mercenary market. They had money to burn.

For the Prime Minister of a sovereign nation to beg for cash like this was no different than a shameless grifter spinning fabricated sob stories on an internet forum just to beg for a quick fifty bucks. But Ernst did not care about his dignity. Dignity did not pave roads or build factories.

Startled by the sheer audacity of the request, Cliff’s perpetually hardened expression cracked into a genuine, booming laugh. He shook his head slowly.

“What exactly would I be investing in? Kjerag does not even meet the basic logistical requirements for me to establish a forward operating base. I did spot a few individuals in your territory with exceptional combat potential, but unfortunately, they already have strict allegiances.”

“Mr. Cliff, you wound me with your rejection,” Ernst deadpanned, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense.

In reality, he understood the geopolitical reality perfectly. Just as Magnus Bank could never legally purchase sovereign land in Kjerag, Blacksteel Worldwide—an entity with deep, tangled ties to the Columbian military-industrial complex—could never establish a permanent armed presence here. Doing so would instantly trigger a diplomatic crisis with the surrounding superpowers.

As for the exceptional recruits Cliff mentioned, Ernst knew exactly who the old mercenary was talking about. His older brother’s Karlan Trade forces were packed with elite operators. And who knew? Given enough time and use, Ernst might just poach a few of them for his own inner circle.

“However,” Cliff continued, his tone shifting into something far more calculated. “While I cannot dump a treasury into your lap, Prime Minister, I can offer you a very lucrative piece of advice.”

Ernst immediately dropped the act, sitting up straight. His eyes sharpened.

“Whether it is scraping by on government taxes or taking high-risk mercenary contracts like my people do, the margins are ultimately just small change,” Cliff said, leaning forward. “Do you know what generates the most obscene wealth in Columbia?”

Ernst blinked, turning the question over in his mind. “Uh… heavily armed bank robbery?”

Cliff froze, staring at him for a second before bursting into another fit of laughter. “Do not let Russell hear you say that.”

Wiping a tear from his eye, Cliff sobered up. “Scientific research. The tech conglomerates out in Trimounts are drowning in money. A single successful R&D project—even if it produces something completely bizarre and seemingly useless—can generate billions in patent licensing alone.”

Ernst nodded slowly, following the logic, but a frown quickly formed on his face. “That makes perfect economic sense, but you have seen Kjerag. We are a nation of snow, stone, and faith. Telling us to pivot to advanced scientific research is like telling a man to dig up a functioning spaceship with a wooden spoon.”

“Who said you have to do the research yourself?” Cliff countered, a sly glint in his eye. “Those Columbian tech giants are apex predators; they eat the prime cuts of meat. But that does not mean you cannot charge them for the privilege of sitting at the table.”

Cliff gestured toward the frosted window, pointing at the towering, jagged peaks in the distance. “Kjerag is a geographical anomaly. You possess a uniquely brutal natural environment, featuring atmospheric conditions strikingly similar to the Endless Icefield, alongside the highest altitudes on this continent. ‘Extreme conditions’ is a phrase that makes Columbian researchers salivate. If you can convince your local factions to open these hazardous zones to foreign testing, charging them exorbitant fees for access and localized protection… taking a massive cut of that soup will not be a problem.”

Reaching into his heavy coat, Cliff produced a sleek, black business card and slid it across the desk.

“If you decide to pursue this angle, call my private line. I know exactly which executives in Trimounts are desperate enough to pay for your snow.”You're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.