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ArabicArknights: Prime Minister of Kjerag — Chapter 5
Chapter 5: Gnosis, Don’t Regret It
Kjerag. The Karlan Trade Headquarters. Chairman Enciodes SilverAsh’s private office.
The building itself was a masterclass in deception. It was a modest, seemingly unremarkable three-story structure built from rough cement bricks and weathered tiles, with the Karlan Trade insignia hanging quietly in the upper left corner of the facade. Compared to the sprawling, opulent headquarters of most international conglomerates, this place looked more like a shady, back-alley hair salon in Columbia. Yet, this was the absolute epicenter of Karlan Trade in Kjerag—and ironically, the most modernized piece of architecture in the entire snow-locked nation.
The daily domain of Enciodes SilverAsh, the founder and Chairman of the company, occupied the entire top floor of this humble building. It was a spacious office defined by a massive floor-to-ceiling window that offered an unbroken view of the frozen landscape.
Having just handled the exhausting political theater of the Three Clans Meeting, Enciodes finally returned to his home ground. The dry heat of the air-conditioned office washed over him as he unfastened his heavy, snow-dusted winter cloak, draping it over a stand. He had barely taken a breath, let alone lowered himself into his leather chair, when the heavy oak door swung open without warning.
A Liberi with sharp features and red-streaked black hair strode directly into the room.
“Gnosis, you really should learn to knock.” Enciodes looked at Gnosis Edelweiss—a man who simultaneously occupied the roles of his closest friend, business partner, and fiercest intellectual competitor. Enciodes offered a faint, helpless sigh. “Your conduct has already stirred up a considerable amount of discontent within the company. Many of our technicians feel your management style is a bit too abrasive.”
Gnosis possessed a legendary lack of tact. He never knocked. He would loudly dress down senior staff over the most trivial calculation errors, casually referring to frustrated researchers as ‘lazy idiots’or’untalented waste.’ He had a terrifying talent for walking into a lively, optimistic room and instantly killing the mood by striking directly at everyone’s deepest professional insecurities. Regardless of his actual intentions, these spectacularly low-EQ behaviors had steadily eroded his reputation. Within the company walls, he was no longer seen as a diligent, careful technical executive, but rather as a sarcastic, impossible-to-please tyrant who lived to torment his subordinates.
Strangely, Gnosis seemed entirely oblivious to the trail of crushed egos he left in his wake. Or, more likely, he was perfectly aware and simply deemed the emotional state of his staff irrelevant.
“I am abrasive with them so they learn not to be abrasive with the data,” Gnosis replied, his voice clipped and utterly devoid of warmth. “If they wish to give me poor evaluations, I expect them to do so by challenging my technical competence. Unfortunately for them, that is an angle they will never be equipped to pursue.”
His confidence hovered dangerously close to pure arrogance, practically spilling from his lips. Yet, because he was almost always right, it was an incredibly difficult stance to refute.
“I did not come here to discuss human resources,” Gnosis continued, stepping up to the desk. “I am here for the results of the Three Clans Meeting.”
Enciodes raised a silver eyebrow, leaning back against the edge of his desk. “Weren’t you absolutely certain of your projections for this plan?”
Gnosis pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the lenses catching the glare of the overhead lights. “Even if I knew the exact result of the calculation from the very beginning, that is no excuse to avoid running the numbers a second time to verify the outcome. Science demands rigor.”
Enciodes turned his gaze toward the glass, not bothering to dissect Gnosis’s logic. It was perfectly sound, even if the delivery was perpetually grating.
“The Three Clans Meeting passed the motion,” Enciodes confirmed, his tone dropping into a serious register. “Though they did so with visible reluctance. The Kjerag People’s Assembly was officially established three hours ago.”
“And who holds the seats of First Speaker and Prime Minister?” Gnosis pressed, his posture rigid.
A fleeting shadow of melancholy crossed Enciodes’s features. He stared out through the French window at the slow, drifting descent of the white snow. The silence stretched between them, heavy and complicated, before he finally answered.
“My younger brother. Ernst SilverAsh.”
Gnosis froze. The revelation stunned him, though he quickly masked it; upon a few seconds of rapid calculation, it seemed to register as an unexpected variable that still fit within the boundaries of logic.
“I was certain it would be me,” Gnosis stated flatly. There was no trace of bitterness or regret on his face, only the cold curiosity of a man analyzing a failed hypothesis.
Enciodes nodded. It was true. Before the final votes were tallied, both of them had operated under the assumption that the Browntail and Paleroche families would elevate Gnosis Edelweiss to the dual positions of Speaker and Prime Minister. Gnosis was the current head of a vassal family sworn to the SilverAsh name—a bloodline historically dedicated to the compilation and preservation of ancient texts.
The political logic had been sound. Gnosis’s father, while never officially convicted, had lived his entire life under the dark suspicion of orchestrating the assassination of the previous SilverAsh heads—Enciodes and Ernst’s parents. That lingering historical blood-debt naturally created an inherent crisis of trust between Gnosis and the SilverAsh brothers in the eyes of the public.
, Gnosis was one of the very few individuals in all of Kjerag who possessed extensive experience in foreign diplomacy and modern administrative management. In a nation of isolationists, he was a giant among children.
Operating on these facts, Enciodes and Gnosis had deduced that if the Browntail and Paleroche factions wanted to fracture Karlan Trade’s monopoly, placing Gnosis in the highest seat of power was their optimal move. It relied entirely on the opposing families fundamentally misunderstanding the deep, private loyalty that actually existed between Enciodes and Gnosis.
They had even drafted a complete series of contingency plans for Gnosis’s ascension. The goal had been for Gnosis to project the image of a hostile, anti-Karlan Trade government. He would play the rebel, satisfy the conservative elders, earn their absolute trust, and quietly lay the groundwork for Enciodes’s final, bloodless coup d’état.
Enciodes had long harbored the ambition to completely shatter Kjerag’s archaic, decaying system. He intended to seize absolute control and drag his homeland into the modern era, recreating the world with his own two hands.
But every single one of those carefully crafted plans had just been rendered obsolete by Ernst’s sudden rise to power.
“Perhaps your methods were simply too extreme,” Enciodes remarked, a dry, teasing edge returning to his voice. “They likely looked at your disposition, panicked, and decided to gamble on my brother instead.”
To Enciodes’s genuine surprise, Gnosis did not immediately fire back a sharp retort. The usually stubborn, unyielding Liberi actually lowered his gaze, his brow furrowing as he fell into a rare moment of silent self-reflection.
‘What is this?’Enciodes thought, hiding his amusement.’I have advised you, warned you, and scolded you countless times over the years, and you never gave an inch. Now that my little brother has outmaneuvered you for a political seat, you suddenly discover humility? Have you just been coasting on your own genius this whole time?’
Competition, it seemed, was the only crucible that could force a man like Gnosis to evolve. His environment within the company had simply been too comfortable, entirely devoid of intellectual rivals.
“It is a good thing that Ernst can force you to take him seriously,” Enciodes said aloud, his voice echoing softly in the spacious room. “At the very least, it proves that you lost this round. If you ever want to sit in that Prime Minister’s chair in the future, you are going to have to overcome a genuinely formidable opponent.”
“Opponent?” Gnosis snapped out of his reverie. He shook his head, a dismissive sneer returning to his lips. “I hardly consider a puppet pushed onto a stage by desperate elders to be my opponent. I was merely calculating the most efficient, logical method to reclaim that position before the quarter ends.”
The sheer arrogance of the statement darkened Enciodes’s expression. He tolerated much from Gnosis, but this crossed a line.
“You would do well to remember those words, Gnosis. My brother is no simple puppet.” Enciodes’s eyes narrowed, the temperature in the room seeming to drop a few degrees. “During the years I spent studying alone in Victoria, the entire SilverAsh estate was managed by him. Encia’s care and safety fell entirely on his shoulders. The fact that the SilverAsh family smoothly reclaimed our seat at the Three Clans Meeting, and the fact that Karlan Trade established its monopoly in Kjerag with minimal violent opposition… those are largely his achievements.”
Enciodes stepped closer, his imposing height casting a shadow over the desk. “He may have been geographically limited by this mountain, unable to see the broader world and the future as we have, but do not mistake that for a lack of vision. He is not far behind us. If you truly doubt me, we can make a wager.”
Gnosis’s eyes narrowed behind his lenses. He rarely heard Enciodes—a man who calculated every variable and only moved when victory was assured—use a word as volatile as ‘wager,’ especially when evaluating human capital.
He considered the variables for a brief moment, then lifted his chin. “Very well. We will bet on whether I can systematically dismantle his political backing and replace him within one month. The stake will be…”
“Your research and development budget for the entire month,” Enciodes interjected smoothly, cutting off whatever trivial sum Gnosis was about to offer.
Gnosis’s eyes widened in genuine horror. He opened his mouth to protest, his jaw tightening, before he finally gritted his teeth and forced out a stiff, pained nod.
As if Kjeragandr herself had been listening and decided to lock the wager in place before Gnosis could retreat, the sharp chime of the office doorbell rang out.
“Enter,” Enciodes commanded, his posture returning to that of the untouchable Chairman.
The heavy door opened to reveal a young woman with black hair tied into neat pigtails. It was Monch, who had just transferred from Ernst’s newly established office.
She bowed respectfully to Enciodes, then cast a curious, lingering glance at Gnosis. The Liberi’s face was slightly flushed, his breathing tight, looking very much like a man who had just been robbed at gunpoint. Suppressing her urge to ask, Monch straightened her posture and delivered her report.
“Chairman, Mr. Ernst just departed. He has gone up the mountain.”
“Up the mountain?” Enciodes raised an eyebrow, gesturing for her to elaborate.
“He is heading directly to the Karlan Temple. He intends to formally request the complete, unredacted financial ledgers of Kjerag.”
“He knows to secure the financial throat of the nation on his first day. He possesses some tactical instinct,” Gnosis noted, his tone grudgingly approving. Then, a cold smirk touched his lips. “Unfortunately for him, considering the Grand Elder of the Karlan Temple’s fanatical stubbornness and political stance, there is absolutely zero chance they will hand over those ledgers. His little expedition is destined to end in humiliation.”
Enciodes remained silent, though the slight tilt of his head indicated he entirely agreed with Gnosis’s bleak assessment. The Temple guarded its wealth and secrets with religious zeal.
Monch blinked, her mind flashing back to the scene just an hour prior. She remembered the easy, terrifyingly confident smile on Ernst’s face as he buttoned his coat and stepped out into the snow.
‘Is it really that impossible?’ she wondered silently.
Before she could voice her thoughts, a sudden, violent commotion erupted from the ground floor, the sound of shouting bleeding through the thick glass of the windows.
Enciodes stepped past them, looking down through the floor-to-ceiling window. A mob of armed civilians had gathered in the snow directly beneath the three-story building. At the front of the pack stood a massive Ursus man, his chest proudly bearing the thick leather crest of the Paleroche family. It was Gulo, a known enforcer for the Paleroche clan.
Frowning, Enciodes strode to his desk and slammed a hand down on the intercom, connecting directly to the ground-floor security detail. “What is the situation outside? Why are Paleroche men swarming my lobby?”
“C-Chairman!” the security guard’s voice crackled through the speaker, breathless and laced with panic. “They’re demanding entry! They claim they have an official warrant to investigate the premises! Apparently, the new Prime Minister found a severe discrepancy while reviewing the preliminary financial reports. The imported tonnage of Columbia steel doesn’t match the declared market price. They are officially accusing Karlan Trade of illegal market hoarding and are demanding a full audit!”
Enciodes’s brow instantly furrowed into a tight knot. The sheer audacity of the maneuver hit him like a physical blow. He slowly turned his head, his piercing gaze locking onto Gnosis.
Pressing the intercom button once more, his voice was dangerously calm. “Understood. Hold the line. I will send a representative down to handle the rabble shortly.”
He released the button, the office plunging back into a heavy silence. A slow, dark smile began to spread across Enciodes’s face, a mixture of deep exasperation and obvious pride.
“My little brother…” Enciodes murmured, shaking his head. “He hasn’t even warmed his seat in the office, and his very first act of power is to launch a federal investigation into his own flesh and blood. He truly is ruthless.”
Enciodes turned fully toward his stunned business partner, the smile sharpening into something lethal.
“Gnosis. You had better not regret this bet.”