Arknights: Prime Minister of Kjerag — Chapter 81

Chapter 81: A Decisive Battle!

“What exactly do you want, Enciodes?”

Ratatos demanded, her voice cutting through the biting mountain wind. She stood with her arms crossed tightly over her chest in a rigid, defensive posture, glaring daggers at the broad back of the man walking ahead of her.

SilverAsh did not stop his measured pace, nor did he turn around. The crunch of his boots against the snow was the only sound for a brief moment before he asked a simple question.

“What did you think of my brother’s speech?”

Ratatos tightened her grip on her own sleeves. She could never quite fathom the depths of Enciodes’s calculations, so she opted for the safest route: the absolute truth.

“It was exceptional,” she admitted, her breath misting in the freezing air. “The emotional mobilization and the sheer inciting power behind his words were far above par. Honestly, for him to smoothly weave the people’s faith in Kjeragandr into a mandate for Kjerag’s modernization… even I had to applaud him.”

This was a genuine admission, one born of deep surprise.

As the traditional balancer of power among the Three Great Families, Ratatos Browntail was far from ignorant. In fact, within the strict confines of Kjerag’s ancient traditions, she was arguably more astute and capable than Enciodes himself. It was an established fact across the snowy peaks that before the SilverAsh Family introduced foreign industry and dragged Kjerag into the modern era, the Browntail Family had been the undisputed masters of commerce in this land.

The reason her family’s mercantile dominance had crumbled was not due to any fundamental flaw in Ratatos’s leadership. She had simply lost to an asymmetrical eclipse—the crushing, unavoidable reality of an industrial civilization obliterating an agricultural one.

Once she realized she was losing ground to the SilverAsh Family’s relentless expansion, Ratatos had quietly dedicated herself to studying the outside world. Because of that quiet education, she fully grasped just how terrifyingly advanced the ‘national concepts’and’political principles’ Ernest had woven into his address today truly were.

While the latter half of his speech—the impassioned plea to ‘make Kjeragandr proud’—was what truly ignited the fervor of the Kjerag people, Ratatos knew the truth. Those quiet, seemingly offhand political declarations hidden within the rhetoric were the actual core of his strategy.

Enciodes nodded, his posture relaxed but commanding.

Ernest’s performance today had naturally caught him off guard as well. When he had shouted ‘Pioneer!’ from the crowd, it had not been a superficial act of political theater. It had been a roar of genuine, heartfelt praise.

But the moment the echoes of his own shout faded, the cold reality of their situation had settled back over him.

“You are correct. Ernest’s speech demonstrated a remarkable level of political acumen. It was certainly a vast improvement over that rambling, aimless address he gave at his inauguration,” Enciodes said, finally coming to a halt. He turned slowly, his silver eyes locking onto Ratatos with a heavy, suffocating seriousness. “But he completely failed to address one massive, fatal flaw.”

“Kjerag has run out of time.”

Ratatos frowned, a cold knot tightening in her stomach. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean it literally,” Enciodes replied, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. “Ernest is moving too slowly.”

He took a step toward her, the snow crunching sharply beneath his heel. “His ideals align perfectly with his current actions, yes. But his actions do not align with the current geopolitical reality of Terra. Ratatos, the hourglass is empty. Our neighbors have already begun to cast their eyes toward Kjerag.”

Ratatos stared at him, a flicker of incredulity breaking through her composed facade. “How could you possibly come to that conclusion?”

“Because Karlan Trade’s caravans have traversed every corner of Terra!” SilverAsh snapped back, his usual calm replaced by a sharp, commanding edge.

“Look at Victoria. The chaos following the execution of their king has largely subsided. The Grand Dukes have seized absolute control of the board, and the royalist rebellions are no longer a threat worth mentioning. Once they finish stabilizing their domestic borders, where do you think their ravenous gaze will turn?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. “The same applies to Kazimierz. Historically, the Kazimierz General Chamber of Commerce and the Adeptus Spatiorum kept each other in a stalemate. But with the explosive, continuous expansion of the Major Knight Tournament, the Chamber of Commerce’s power is swelling out of control. As for the Adeptus Spatiorum? I cannot say if they hold any hidden trump cards, but based on the intelligence my caravans have gathered from the border cities, the corruption rotting within the Major Knight Tournament’s combat troops is terminal!”

Enciodes’s eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing through the howling wind. “And then there is Columbia. They appear the calmest, yet they are the most terrifying predators on the board. Their Great Reclamation Movement has already laid bare their insatiable hunger for territory. If Victoria and Kazimierz begin carving up Kjerag, do you honestly believe Columbia will simply sit back and watch?”

He raised a gloved hand, gesturing to the snow-capped peaks around them. “We are already encircled by wolves! And yet, Ernest insists on building from scratch, laying bricks one agonizing step at a time. I do not fault his methodology in a vacuum—but given the storm brewing across Terra, we do not have the luxury of time!”

Ratatos stood in silence. The wind whipped her hair across her face as she processed his words. Finally, she forced a cold, rational mask back into place.

“That is nothing but your own paranoid speculation.”

She took a slow breath, steadying her racing heart. “I know exactly what you are trying to do, Enciodes. You are trying to terrify me into backing whatever scheme you have planned for the Three Clans Meeting.”

“I intend to propose a vote of no confidence against Ernest,” Enciodes stated, his tone flat and absolute. “I will nominate Gnosis Edelweiss to assume executive control, thereby forcing Kjerag into immediate, complete industrialization. Not these meager, small-scale reforms Ernest is playing with. I mean total industrialization, anchored entirely in heavy industry.”

Ratatos stared at him, stunned. A harsh, humorless laugh escaped her lips.

“Do you even hear yourself? Who in their right mind would agree to such a suicidal proposal? Even if I were insane enough to support you, the Paleroche Family will oppose you to the bitter end. And beyond that—even if by some miracle the bill passes and Ernest steps down, do you truly believe you and Gnosis can govern? Without Ernest acting as your divine figurehead, your government has zero appeal to the common people. How do you plan to enforce this heavy industrialization?”

She stepped forward, her eyes blazing with defiance. “On what grounds, Enciodes?”

Enciodes looked down at her, his expression unreadable.

“What if I already possess the physical means to force the issue?”

“Impossible. Arctosz will never allow it—”

“What if,” Enciodes interrupted smoothly, “even with Arctosz’s objections, I possess the means to completely suppress his forces?”

Ratatos froze. The defiance in her eyes shattered, replaced by a sudden, widening horror.

“Wait… don’t tell me…”

A buried memory violently clawed its way to the forefront of her mind. It was a minor incident, something Ernest had warned the Paleroche Family about weeks ago. It had caused a brief uproar before being swept under the rug.

Karlan Trade had allegedly ‘misplaced’ a massive shipment of steel.

At the time, the Paleroche Family had seized upon the rumor, using it as an excuse to harass Karlan Trade and stunt SilverAsh’s momentum. But the fires of that scandal had been quickly smothered by Gnosis Edelweiss, who had provided a perfectly plausible, bureaucratic explanation for the missing inventory.

Ratatos had only heard about the resulting farce at Karlan Trade headquarters a week after it happened. She hadn’t paid it much mind, dismissing it as just another instance of Arctosz’s endless nitpicking.

Back then, the Holy Stone Judgement orchestrated by the Great Elder had been in full swing, and Ernest was trapped in the center of the political maelstrom. Ratatos had focused on the immediate crisis, quietly instructing her foolish younger sister to help Ernest survive the ordeal. Later, when Ernest miraculously turned the disaster to his advantage without needing her escape route, she had forgotten the missing steel entirely.

But what if that steel hadn’t been lost? What if it actually existed?

Where would one hide that much raw steel? And more… what was it being forged into?

Enciodes allowed a faint, chilling smile to touch his lips.

“And it is not just Arctosz who must yield. It is you as well, Ratatos. I know you are a brilliant woman, but your brilliance is chained to the survival of the Browntail Family. In that specific regard… I am afraid your sister lacks your foresight.”

“Why are you bringing Sciurus into this?!” Ratatos roared, her composure finally snapping.

If the realization about the missing steel had sent a chill down her spine, the sudden mention of Sciurus plunged her into a freezing abyss.

What was he implying? Was Sciurus in physical danger? Or was he threatening to install Sciurus as the head of the Browntail Family in her place?

But that was impossible. The Three Clans Meeting was not some modern parliament; the position of Patriarch was dictated by ancient bloodlines. Unless Ratatos died, no mortal could deny her birthright.

No mortal… except Kjeragandr.

Ratatos’s breath hitched. Could Enciodes actually manipulate the Karlan Temple enough to make the Goddess ‘speak’ and strip her of her title?

Enciodes offered no answers. He merely gave a noncommittal shrug, his silver eyes devoid of warmth.

“Do not panic. You have plenty of time to consider your options. I merely expect an answer before the Holy Hunt concludes tomorrow.”

Before Ratatos could scream another demand, Enciodes turned his back on her, his long coat snapping in the wind as he resumed his march toward Turicum.

This is necessary, he told himself, the crunch of the snow matching the rhythm of his racing thoughts.

In every clash of wits against Ernest, he found himself losing ground. Ernest’s political foundation was rapidly hardening into bedrock, inadvertently granting legitimacy and absolute authority to a government that, by all rights, should have collapsed weeks ago.

If he allowed this to continue, the window to flip the board would shatter permanently.

But surrender was never an option.

Ernest’s slow, methodical approach might be perfectly tailored to Kjerag’s internal culture, but it was practically suicidal on the grand stage of Terra.

For Ernest’s peaceful modernization to succeed, a string of impossible miracles had to occur. Victoria would need to plunge back into a bloody civil war. The Adeptus Spatiorum would need to experience a sudden, miraculous resurgence to throttle the Kazimierz General Chamber of Commerce. Columbia would need to be distracted by a crisis massive enough to pull their greedy eyes away from Terra’s borders.

Only in that impossible fantasy could Kjerag afford the luxury of taking things ‘step by step.’

Banking on those geopolitical miracles happening within the next few years was as foolish as believing Kjeragandr truly resided within the halls of the Karlan Temple.

Therefore, he had to force the issue.

He would activate the sleeper agents he had carefully planted over the years. Valais within the Paleroche Family. Monch within the Browntail Family. And even… his own sister, Enya SilverAsh, sitting upon the throne of the Saintess.

Tomorrow, upon the bloodstained snow of the Holy Hunt, the true master of Kjerag would be decided.