The Darsha estate council hall had never been so packed. Merchants with fortunes, nobles who had survived, and the newly called administrators of the empire packed the room, their faces running from awe to barely contained resentment. Sharath Virayan Darsha, at the head of the glossed obsidian table, gazed over them evenly. The air was charged with tension from those used to inherited privilege suddenly being questioned, balanced with the slight whisper of magical wards preventing any unexpected uprising.
"Today," Sharath started, his tone accurate and unyielding, "we embark on the real business of rule. The empire is not so much land and soldiers; it is structure, public works, and information. Toward that end, I am establishing a centralized government. Provinces will be organized into districts, and each district will have an appointed governor responsible to the crown—no exceptions."
Whispers sprang up among the nobles. Some shifted nervously, the gilded rings clicking upon polished wood. Several had expected the disarray after conquest to permit them to hold power by default. They were wrong.
"I see," Sharath went on, gaze keen, "that some of you fear being robbed of control. Let me make things clear: your titles and claims to history are abolished. Your money, though, is yours. You are not deprived of resources—only of untrammeled power. Government is no longer automatic—it is won."
The room fell silent a little, but some of the merchants cursed under their breaths. Sharath looked over them. "For those who will rule, an exam system has been created. Only those who can read, write, and show practical skills of administration are qualified. Of course, as nobles and merchants, you have the greatest privilege. It is made for your sake. Fail, and your equals could rise. Excel, and you could serve."
He paused, letting the words hang in the air, building tension. "Every governor will be subject to review. If they perform poorly, they will be recalled. Tests will be administered every five years. Old governors can take it again; newcomers can challenge them. No one, regardless of position or aspiration, shall claim independent rule. The emperor—myself—is supreme, over all governors, mediating and directing every district without exception."
🐧NeuroBoop, always on Sharath's mind, wisecracked softly, *"Ah yes, nothing like converting the old aristocracy into keen test-takers. Meritocracy with a silent guillotine. Lovely."
The whispers among the nobles increased. Some tried oblique objections, citing tradition, duty, or service as excuses. Sharath, unyielding, gave them a moment's hearing before countering each objection with facts, reasoning, and a subtle magical prod that left the most intransigent onlookers a discomfiting squeeze in the chest.
By mid-morning, Sharath shifted to tax reform, a ticklish and politically charged assignment. Existing systems were patchy, confusing, and permeated with abuse. Sharath had streamlined them, reducing rates to promote compliance—but the people, being unaccustomed to transparency, misread the new rules. In one especially funny but exasperating example, peasants tried to pay taxes in sacks of beans, claiming that legumes were "reasonable recompense" by local tradition.
Sharath stifled a sigh and mentally noted. "If ignorance is bliss, these individuals are positively euphoric."
Vowing to enlighten the populace, he ordered an applied textbook: Economics 101 and Taxes 101. The texts were basic, concise, and printed to be produced in large quantities. Basanna and her corps of scribes and magical printers printed thousands, sending copies to each village chief and district headquarters. The books were inexpensive and available, with endearing diagrams to help readers understand.
What Sharath was not expecting was the cultural fallout: villagers cherished the books as heirlooms, even if they could not read. Some even buffed them, others kept them above hearths or in private altars, believing the knowledge inside possessed magical or spiritual potency. 🐧NeuroBoop noted wryly, "Ah, literacy as talisman—truly the unintended charm of empire."
By the time the first governance exams were conducted, tensions had risen. Governors were asked questions on administrative competency, tax law, and strategic thinking. Nobles and merchants alike scrambled to take the tests with enthusiasm, their traditional sense of entitlement pitted against the cold reality of meritocratic control. Magical wards Sharath had installed in the testing room would prevent any cheating from going undetected; attempts at duplicity were immediately caught, whispering the offending individual away from the building and out of the running.
The outcome of the first test was proclaimed at a ceremonial announcement, witnessed by the new governors, chosen merchants, and living nobles. Sharath spoke to the gathered crowd:
"Congrats to the winners. You will form the support base for a meritocratic, centralized system of government. To the losers, take this as a lesson: power is determined by competency, not position."
The ceremony, though ceremonious, was not free from prompt challenge. Sharath and Madhu soon faced corruption attempts within a few hours. A small group of new governors attempted to falsify district accounts and embezzle funds. Sharath, with magical tracking and the appraisal spells he had practiced, sensed the irregularities. He called for the culprits quietly, with undeniable evidence and unflinching authority. Those who opposed him were put to death quietly, their removal serving as a stern lesson without causing panic.
🐧NeuroBoop, always cynical, whispered into Sharath's mind: "Subtlety, precision, and a dash of permanent persuasion. Nothing spells order like a bit of selective elimination."
With corruption in check, Sharath turned to building governance. Each governor was reminded of accountability: performance reports, yearly audits, and random inspections ensured that no district could go it alone. Villages were urged to lodge complaints directly through the new system, ensuring transparency while affirming the dominance of the emperor.
In the meantime, the books of taxation spread into society. Village chiefs and district magistrates were educated to read and explain the rules so that there would be compliance and education. Even illiterate peasants learned the concepts of taxation through word of mouth, illustrations, and example. Sharath observed the gradual acceptance with satisfaction. Mistakes still happened, but the ground was laid for knowledge and compliance.
By nightfall, Sharath had held a council with his closest assistants and Madhu. Reports were gone through, anomalies noted, loyalty readings of new governors taken. Monitoring was maintained on those whose ratings indicated possible subversion. The government system was working but fluid: meritocratic, centrally managed, and unrelenting in enforcing it.
🐧NeuroBoop recounted the day within, voice heavy with ironic amusement: "The empire expands, not so much through conquest, but through obedience, calculation, and insidious fear. And all before dinner. Nice."
Sharath permitted himself a fleeting sense of pride. The building blocks of administration were in place: centralized rule first and foremost, governors responsible to merit and law, citizens schooled in the economic sciences, and corruption instantly eliminated. The empire was no longer a collection of conquered territories—it was a centralized, ordered monarchy, with the emperor as supreme and unchallengeable ruler.
As night descended, the magical wards that surrounded the capital softly glowed, a quiet reminder that observation was ever present, loyalty was quantifiable, and disobedience would not be indulged. Sharath made his way back to his chambers, scanning the reports of loyalty for each governor, merchant, and surviving noble. The groundwork was not just laid—it was solid.
"Foundations of governance," 🐧NeuroBoop grumbled in Sharath's head, "laid with precision, obedience enforced, and authority absolute. Let us now see for how long human ambition can withstand proper regulation."
Sharath smiled weakly. The empire was expanding—not just in land, but in discipline, in knowledge, and unyielding control. The next consolidation phase would be even more stringent, making merit, loyalty, and obedience the very pillars of his rule.