The Finance Minister's Offer
As I stepped out of the meeting room, I stole a quick glance at the 5th Prince. For the moment, at least, I could breathe a sigh of relief. That piercing look from earlier was gone. If anything, when our eyes met, the corner of his mouth even twitched upward in a slight smile. Was he grateful that I hadn't sided with his half-brother, the thorn in his side? Or maybe he was thinking, Refusing the emperor's reward right to his face? What a mad bastard. Either way, it didn't seem like he was harboring any 'I need to kill you' intentions. For now, that was enough. Not ending up on the kill list immediately was a win.
"Ethan."
As I headed outside, a familiar voice called out. I smiled at the man who slung an arm casually around my shoulders.
"Godfather."
"You reckless fool. Bold enough to reject a reward from His Majesty the Emperor right in front of him. If your father were alive, he'd have a fit."
"Eh? I think Father would've praised me for it instead."
"Could be."
My late father's friend of thirty years and my godfather. Gilbert Rubren. Current Count of Utorar and Vice Minister of the Finance Ministry. The top candidate for the soon-to-be-vacant Minister position. That was exactly why I'd targeted the Finance Ministry as my first stage. Having a close ally made maneuvering so much easier. Connections were made for times like this.
"How was the mood among the nobles?"
"You mean about the Crown Prince? It's chaos. Absolute pandemonium. No exaggeration—this is louder than when His Majesty became the new heavens."
"As expected."
"The real problem is the Prime Minister. Looks like he's already spoken with His Majesty; he's come out strongly backing the 8th Prince. And that's only fanning the flames higher."
The Founding Emperor's publicly declared right-hand man. Cheriot Merken, the Prime Minister. His abilities were undeniable. He'd perfectly supported an emperor who only had martial prowess. He had a clear vision for the future and the execution to make it happen. A remarkable man who'd risen to Prime Minister purely on merit, without any political maneuvering or other strings attached.
The issue is how radically uncompromising he is.
Politics wasn't about blindly pushing what you thought was right. Those who opposed weren't villains—they had their own interests and survival on the line. That's why negotiation and compromise were essential skills for any politician. And Prime Minister Cheriot was sorely lacking in both. His unshakeable faith in his own judgment and vision led him to see people as either allies or enemies, nothing in between. As a result, his followers trusted him blindly, but his opponents hated him with a passion.
In the political arena, raw ability mattered, but it wasn't number one. The top virtue was accommodation—knowing how to accept others, and letting them accept you. Without it, even at the pinnacle, you'd just stir up endless strife every day. In politics, avoiding enemies was more important than making allies.
"It might've been better to nominate the Interior Minister instead."
"I agree. His abilities fall short of the Prime Minister's, but he has support from various factions."
Unlike the Prime Minister, the Interior Minister had a measured way with words. The nobles followed him more than the arrogant Prime Minister. That's why, despite the Founding Emperor's absolute trust, the Prime Minister had to split the political sphere fifty-fifty with the Interior Minister.
"But considering the Prime Minister's talents, it's not surprising His Majesty chose him."
It made sense for the Founding Emperor to ask his most trusted right-hand—the kingmaker who'd made him emperor—to back the 8th Prince. He probably wanted his chosen successor to receive the same guidance he'd gotten.
"More importantly, you okay?"
"Pardon?"
"I saw Kamag Regestice's face earlier—it wasn't pretty. He clearly wasn't thrilled about refugees near his family's lands. He might hold a grudge against you over this."
"A grudge? Isn't that a bit petty for the future maternal uncle of the Crown Prince?"
"That's politics for you. A pit where narrow-minded folks claw at each other. Gentlemen saints never step into the mud."
Before I knew it, our chat had brought us near the Finance Ministry. Suddenly, my godfather glanced around and whispered,
"So. You planning to back the 5th Prince too?"
"Godfather?"
"Honestly, after what you pulled in there, no one would blame them for thinking that. Your intentions might've been pure, but to them, it could look like you're refusing to join hands with the 8th Prince and the Regestiches."
"I see."
"What’s with that reaction? Wait, did you actually aim for that?"
Instead of answering, I just shrugged. My godfather's eyes widened in shock—you don't say? Of course, I'd only suggested a better path. I'd tell everyone the same.
"Then you planning to go see the 5th Prince now?"
"No, not that."
"Not that? After declaring you're not with the 8th Prince?"
"Why are you like this? I didn't say I wasn't with the 8th Prince—I just proposed a truly better path for the empire."
I couldn't reveal my full intentions, even to my godfather. Not even to family. This was mine to bear alone. It was the duty of a Family Head—the weight of protecting the house and kin, now passed from my father to me.
The 8th Prince has two powerful weapons the 5th lacks: his father and mother.
The biggest backer of the 8th Prince as Crown Prince? The Founding Emperor himself. The empire's master. Their father. No matter the ministers' objections or merits, if he said no, it was no. The founder of this new heaven—his will was heaven's mandate. No one could defy it.
And his mother's role was even more crucial than imagined. Whether you had maternal family support or a guardian made a huge political difference. The 5th Prince, motherless, paled against the 8th's living Empress. As long as she held strong, his position was rock-solid.
The 5th Prince had talent and support, no doubt. But the Founder's will pointed elsewhere. In the empire, after the Emperor, the Empress—mother to the 8th—was paramount. That's why whispers filled the courts. No one could say for sure who was right. It gave fence-sitters like me room to maneuver. Not cowardice—prudent caution.
"As you know, Godfather, my family and house always come first."
"Your father said the same. That's why he chose His Majesty and toppled Condor. But this feels different, no? The 8th Prince is young, but His Majesty's favor is firm."
"That's why I haven't made any official statement backing the 5th Prince. You know that. What about you—thinking of supporting him?"
"If you help me run the Finance Ministry well, sure."
"Not where people can hear, please."
My godfather had a point, in a way. From Earth's author's lore, I knew the plot beats. The Founder was emperor but politically naive. And the Empress's health was failing. The 8th could defy expectations and take the throne—or it could follow canon. Either way, not my fight yet. Jumping in too soon could get me purged. There was time to watch. My priority: raise my value first.
Regestiches and 8th Prince, or 5th—no matter. Goal: make them recruit me. Become indispensable. That's one path to survival.
"How's the National Tax Service setup going?"
"Smoothly. The Minister sees it as his final legacy—he's obsessed. I just need to take it and run it well. And with you impressing His Majesty, it'll go even better. He mentioned your name directly."
My godfather wasn't exaggerating. Exactly one hour after arriving at the Finance Ministry.
"Lord Montebello? The Minister wishes to see you."
I'd been summoned by the head of our Finance Ministry. Reasons for a superior's call: good or fucked. The guilty get nervous. Not me. So, good news.
No need to shrink before the Minister.
"Come in, Family Head Montebello."
"Feel free to speak casually. This isn't my estate or a socialite party. Here, I'm just a subordinate under Your Excellency."
"That eases my mind. Sit. My secretary will bring tea soon."
Before and after the tea arrived, we chatted idly—sorting our thoughts, not stalling like thieves.
"About that proposal you submitted earlier. The National Tax Service."
"Yes, Your Excellency. Any issues?"
"Quite the opposite. Fresh news: His Majesty specifically mentioned Ethan Montebello, urging us to push your idea harder."
"His Majesty did?"
"He must think highly of you. He's generous in backing those he favors."
Probably my meeting room performance. Good. The Founder's word meant no delays.
"We're planning divisions: Audit, Investigation, and Enforcement. I want to appoint you head of one. Any preference?"
"I can volunteer?"
"His Majesty's interest in the Finance Ministry is thanks to you. Decline if it's too much—but it won't be, right?"
The Minister knew the game. Everyone scrambled for positions—greed or survival. Either way, he was extending a hand. No major enmity here.
"I'd like Enforcement."
"Enforcement, eh? Understood."
"And, Your Excellency."
Not done yet. Couldn't end here. For smooth operations. For my future spot. Heaven's model had shown it.
"Enforcement will need... unusual personnel."
"Unusual?"
"When Enforcement moves, it's to chase tax dodgers. Can't do that with just pen and paper, right?"