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ArabicArknights: Prime Minister of Kjerag — Chapter 24
Chapter 24: Kjerag’s First Publicly Funded Trip!
Londinium, Victoria. A quiet corner bookstore shrouded in the city’s perpetual, smog-choked drizzle.
After ducking into the narrow alleyway and observing the street for several tense minutes, Vina finally confirmed that the heavy, rhythmic clatter of mounted police hooves had faded into the distance. No one was following her. She breathed a faint sigh of relief, her breath misting in the chill air, and slipped through the unassuming wooden door of her usual sanctuary.
The bookstore owner, Golding, was a young, quiet teacher who worked at St. Marceau Primary School during the week and managed the shop’s till on weekends and holidays. Vina hadn’t interacted with her much; her only lingering impression was of a melancholic young woman with pale, light gray hair, always adorned with white lilies. It was a rather morbid aesthetic choice—in Victoria, lilies were a universal symbol of death.
Today was a weekday, meaning Golding was absent and the shop was largely empty. At this hour, the only occupants were a few idle elders seeking refuge from the damp cold, sitting in the worn armchairs to pass the time.
Vina handled the narrow, dust-moted aisles with practiced ease, her fingers trailing over cracked leather spines until she reached the geography section. She searched through the volumes one by one until she pulled out a heavy book titled Kjerag Customs Examination.
Spreading a public map of Terra across a nearby reading table, Vina finally pinpointed the isolated nation.
‘Kjerag is situated in the treacherous mountain ranges bordering Kazimierz, Victoria, and Columbia,’the text read.’Its citizens are devout followers of Kjeragandr, firmly believing the goddess forged their snowy homeland. Unlike the Laterano Church and other expansionist denominations, the followers of Kjeragandr harbor no desire to proselytize. The nation remains deeply isolationist and conservative. Internally, it is nominally ruled by the religious authority of the Karlan Temple, while actual governance is managed by the Three Great Families.'”Karlan Temple…” Vina muttered, her brow furrowing. She dug into the pocket of her worn leather pants, fishing out a thoroughly crumpled recruitment flyer. She smoothed out the creases against the wooden table. “This clearly says’Kjerag Government’.”
‘Could it really be a scam?’
She sighed, a bitter wave of disappointment washing over her. To be completely honest, even though the contents of this recruitment advertisement looked like a poorly constructed joke from every conceivable angle, she had clung to it with desperate hope.
She didn’t want to stay in Londinium anymore. If possible, she wanted to flee Victoria entirely.
It was simply too dangerous here. The constant, gnawing paranoia of walking down the street, terrified that a passing patrol of mounted police or a council noble’s spy would recognize her face and slit her throat in an alley—she had endured enough of that life.
She just wanted peace.
As for avenging her father and reclaiming the throne, she still carried the weight of those thoughts, but she wasn’t a fool. She understood it was an absolute impossibility at the present moment. Victoria still functioned without its king, and Londinium maintained its cold, mechanical order without her father; the nobles had cleanly and smoothly usurped the vacuum of power. Without a massive upheaval or chaotic accident, Vina would never have the chance to step foot inside the Iron Palace again in her lifetime.
How did the old saying go? Develop steadily and wait for the situation to change.
So, if there truly was an opportunity, she desperately wanted to temporarily leave Victoria behind and escape to a quiet, harmonious place.
“I didn’t expect anyone to still be concerned about Kjerag.”
A deep, resonant voice suddenly rumbled right beside her ear. Vina flinched, her head snapping up to gaze at the familiar, imposing figure that had materialized beside her.
It was a massive male lion, his golden mane radiating a faint, sun-like warmth in the dim bookstore.
“Gawain?”
Looking at this elusive guardian who only ever appeared at the absolute turning points of her life, Vina let out a breath of pure surprise. The last time she saw Gawain was the day the King was hanged. She had been secretly smuggled out of the blood-soaked palace, and Gawain had appeared from the shadows to guide her to safety.
“Why are you here? Do you know something?” Vina asked quickly, her voice hushed.
Gawain’s every appearance carried a deep reason. He had appeared to carry her to the Duke of Cumberland’s estate so she could see her father one last time. He had appeared to guide her through the hidden routes, allowing her to successfully escape the palace massacre. And now, he had appeared precisely when she was hesitating over a crude recruitment flyer from Kjerag.
Gawain did not answer immediately. His ancient, intelligent gaze bypassed Vina entirely, locking onto the crumpled notice as if recalling a distant memory.
After a long moment, he lowered his massive head, took a slow sniff of the cheap paper, and gently pressed his Beast Lord’s paw against the edge of the notice.
“You can go,” the Beast Lord rumbled indifferently, offering no further explanation or context. He simply stated, “It is safe there.”
Vina was stunned. Just as she opened her mouth to press for details, she watched Gawain slowly turn and pad silently down the bookshelf aisle. She scrambled out of her chair, chasing after him, but by the time she rounded the corner of the shelves, Gawain’s massive figure had already vanished without a trace.
She stood there in the empty aisle, finally shaking her head with a helpless smile.
Gawain had always been exactly like this. He never explained, never offered advice, and never forced her hand. He simply delivered the absolute truth she needed to hear, and then quietly disappeared before she could even process it. Just as her father had once told her: Gawain’s existence was solely bound by an ancient pact with the ancestors of Aslan, entrusting him to protect their bloodline. Beyond that, he would intervene in nothing.
But right now, his word was more than enough.
Vina walked back to the reading table, picked up the thin recruitment notice, folded it neatly, and tucked it securely into her purse.
The location written on the flyer was the County of Ascalon in Victoria, at a facility owned by an enterprise called Karlan Trade, a fair distance away from Londinium. Thankfully, the recruitment window was generous enough for her to make the journey.
Vina was ready.
“Young Master, do you think we can really recruit people by traveling so far away?”
Aurora asked, her bright eyes blinking with genuine curiosity. Ernst stared at her in deep, heavy silence for a long moment before slowly turning his head to look out the window.
‘If your flyer wasn’t so aggressively abstract, our chances of deceiving… ah, no, recruiting people, would probably be at least ten percent higher.’
Naturally, Ernst kept those hurtful words swallowed safely behind his teeth.
He couldn’t entirely blame the girl. Publicly recruiting civil servants for a newly minted government was a concept so foreign to Kjerag that not even Aurora could comprehend it. Even Ernst himself, armed with the memories and pragmatism of two lifetimes, was essentially flying blind. He had zero practical experience in this specific field.
Delegating the flyer design to Aurora was a blatant act of passing the buck on his part, so he had absolutely no standing to criticize the disastrous final product. Besides, Aurora had already apologized earnestly for the mess.
Putting all the bureaucratic headaches aside, Ernst had actually gained some valuable cultural insight during the process. It turned out that even the sturdiest, most straightforward Ursus girls possessed incredibly soft thighs.
Don’t misunderstand—it was just a lap pillow. Nothing untoward. Just a pragmatic resting place for a highly stressed leader.
After packing his luggage and double-checking the locks, Ernst snapped the suitcase shut and turned to Aurora with a perfectly practiced, confident smile.
“Don’t worry. As long as we offer a high enough price, there will always be brave souls attracted by the bounty.”
He paused, his smile turning just a fraction sharper as he added, “Oh, and remember: the high salary only applies after they pass their probation period and become regularized. You absolutely must not mention that little detail when they sign.”
Aurora nodded with solemn, knowing understanding.
Only then did Ernst grab the handle of his suitcase and step out of the modest, low-ceilinged government office building. Outside, a heavy-duty off-road vehicle proudly bearing the Karlan Trade insignia sat idling in the snow, having waited for quite some time.
“Aurora, are you ready?” Ernst asked, taking a deep breath of the freezing mountain air, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “First stop on our business trip: Victoria!”
“Ready!” Aurora cheered loudly, her voice ringing clear across the snow.
The heavy car doors slammed shut, the engine roared to life, and Kjerag’s first-ever publicly funded business trip—stretching from Victoria all the way to Kazimierz—officially began!