Princess's Struggle for Survival-Chapter 520: Mobilization

In the Valeria Empire, the capital city, known as the City of Glory, far from the biting winds and frozen earth.

The sun rose in the east. In the former princess’s chambers, now the Regent’s palace, a petite golden-haired girl sat at the edge of a soft, large bed, her emerald-green eyes lowered as she gazed at her hand slowly pulling a stocking upward from the heel.

Brilliant sunlight poured into the room, illuminating the smooth, fair skin of the young girl’s slender legs. One leg was already sheathed in a delicate milk-white silk stocking, its golden-threaded cuff coiled in intricate patterns, accentuating the tender thighs of the imperial empress. Due to the sheer fabric, the girl’s bent knees appear pinkish-white. Below, her calf, bathed in sunlight, traced a straight, elegant line down to her foot, where the silk-covered instep resembled creamy pudding in softness.

Having put on her thigh-high stockings, Amalia stood in the morning light, gently brushing back her hair. Her long, golden wheat-colored tresses fell naturally, draped over her splendid white noble ceremonial dress like rippling waves on a sunlit sea.

Similar to the weekly holidays established at Elizabeth Academy of Magic, the Empress of Valeria technically enjoyed designated rest days, Saturday and Sunday, during which imperial duties could be set aside for personal matters.

However, after the previous emperor, Hibbort Valeria, ascended the throne, he moved the weekly council meetings to Sundays and, by his own tireless example, worked nearly every day of the year. This gradually eroded the relevance of the rest-day tradition established by the empire’s founding emperor.

As Hibbort’s biological daughter, Amalia not only felt determined to share the burdens facing her elder sister but also harbored a quiet ambition to prove her abilities surpassing even those of her power-obsessed late father. Thus, she naturally inherited this year-round, non-stop work schedule.

The long years she had spent confined in the ancient castle had granted her more than enough rest. A proper amount of busyness helped Amalia feel truly alive.

And there was also... the matter of avoiding constant thoughts about her beloved Regent, so far away in the North...

After adjusting her attire and taking up the imperial scepter, Amalia walked to the entrance. Her two adorable, soft white-stockinged feet slipped into intricately carved silver high heels as she slowly pushed open the door.

Although Amalia still wasn’t fond of wearing heels, as Empress of the Empire, slightly enhancing her height helped maintain a sense of dignity.

A sovereign should be looked up to.

Outside the room, the lady-in-waiting standing in the corridor bowed respectfully upon seeing Amalia, seemed unfazed by the fact that the Empress had spent the night in the Regent’s chambers. She then promptly ordered the meal preparations to begin.

Out of seven days a week, the young Empress resides normally in her own chambers from Monday to Friday. But on weekends, she will move to the Regent’s palace, conducting work, dining, and sleeping there.

As if, to her, this routine itself constitutes rest.

Considering Amalia had lived in this very palace alongside Astrid in the past, the maids could understand her habits.

Perhaps the Empress feels more at home here than in the imperial chambers.

After breakfast served by the maids and receiving reports from attendants on legislative reactions and frontline battle conditions, Amalia returned to her study and reorganized her thoughts, lightly tapping her fingers against the desk.

With the official promulgation of the conscription bill, the Empire had recruited many gifted soldiers in recent days. After another month or two of intensive training to develop their spiritual energy, they could be deployed to the battlefield.

Then, the pressure along the imperial borders would significantly ease.

Of course, that assumed they could survive these first one or two months.

On the logistical front, building materials were being transported at a frantic pace. The required elemental crystals, consolidated into the national treasury through Amalia’s newly enacted market laws, were being uniformly dispatched to the front lines.

While still insufficient to sustain long-term transportation via mana-powered airships, it at least alleviated immediate pressures. If necessary, these airships could be temporarily activated as transport vessels or aerial weapons; Hibbort had previously mandated strategic design modifications, such as replacing hull materials with shock-absorbing, impact-resistant alloys and adding special defensive barriers.

Combined with the recently developed thunderburst bombs from the reformist faction, the mana-powered airships indeed possess basic high-altitude bombing capabilities.

Their threat level would increase dramatically when paired with mages or soldiers equipped with high-precision, long-range mana weapons.

Staring at the frontline reports, particularly the intelligence from fifteen days ago detailing the Regent’s joint operation with Lyra Beckett, the so-called Imperial Bulwark, to cleanse the plague, Amalia rested her chin on one hand, silently reading the message on the parchment.

This intelligence had arrived simultaneously with Astrid’s letter to her, allowing Amalia to understand the specific circumstances and potential maneuvers by the Kingdom of Velys.

The plague’s originator, a terrifying entity; the ancient magic capable of temporarily dispelling the plague; the Winter Strategy; the rerouting of logistical supply lines; and the yet-untouched intelligence contacts the Saintess of Light.

There were so many matters requiring attention from her, the new heir. No wonder Emperor Hibbort always wore such a serious expression, anyone burdened with this much responsibility would struggle to smile.

Rubbing her temples, Amalia gently kicked off her ornate silver heels. Her silk-covered feet stepped onto a soft cushion as she wrapped her arms around her knees, deep in thought.

So many major initiatives recently, military reform, market planning, tax optimization, touching every aspect of governance.

Large-scale conscription, transportation, and logistical mobilization had caused the treasury to operate at a deficit directly. And the newly appointed Amalia relied on the decade-long credibility Hibbort had accumulated, leaving her with very little room for maneuver.

Considering even Hibbort, known as the Iron Emperor, had refrained from arbitrarily increasing taxes or conscripting civilians in his later years, fearing a newly crowned emperor might fail to control the nobility and trigger internal rebellion, how could Amalia possibly set such a precedent now?

Yet, with the treasury continuing to hemorrhage funds, even if she emptied the wealth stored within the imperial scepter, it wouldn’t last long.

The Kingdom of Velys faith was used as a tool to redirect blame, pointing every problem toward neighboring nations, while the Valeria Empire still had to balance the interests between Empress, nobility, and commoners.

Once the treasury runs dry, the only source of funds will be the nobility, leading to a sharp rise in their discontent.

She had to think of ways to boost the economy.

The Velmont family... Pan-Human Alliance...

Ores and silk... perfumes...

After a long silence, Amalia straightened her posture, jotting down notes on the imperial decree before quietly summoning the editor-in-chief of the Empire Weekly, left behind in the capital by Elise, and whispering her instructions.

Continue spreading propaganda among the nobility about the Kingdom of Velys’s cruelty and relentlessly to reduce their resistance to taxation.

The pressure on the Valeria Empire was still too low, insufficient to make the frogs in the pot feel the rising heat and leap out.

If those horrifying truths about the Plague were laid bare before them...

Considering possible methods to incite the nobility into actively investing their fortunes into war preparations, Amalia slightly frowned, her reinforced silk-covered toes gently tapping up and down.

No, aside from Astrid certainly disapproving of such measures, the cost would be far too high.

Using a solid defense as a bleeding wound, no matter how you looked at it, it was a losing proposition.

Amalia gently stroked the imperial staff in her hand, her foot brushed against the high heels and knocked it to the floor with a crisp sound.

There had to be another way.

She sat in the study all morning, annotating documents, adding suggestions, before finally leaving the room and heading to the private dining hall reserved for the Empress of Valeria.

Compared to the tedious issues of the morning, the real challenge waited for her at lunch.

At last week’s morning meeting, Amalia had passed a bill granting the Empress temporary authority to mobilize Arcanist mages within the Empire. Naturally, such a controversial law had sparked discontent among certain nobles.

Throughout the entire Empire, aside from a few rare magic prodigies of commoner origin, Fanya, Charlotte, and the future Lyra, every Arcanist mage had powerful noble houses behind them, blessed with optimized bloodlines and unlimited cultivation resources.

Thus, in the eyes of the nobility, this law wasn’t targeting commoners, it was targeting them.

Especially since Arcanist mages represent the peak of human combat strength, each one being critically important and holding immense influence within their respective families.

"Good afternoon, Duke Thomas."

Amalia sat gracefully in her seat, raising her dignified gaze toward the man across the table.

Duke Thomas, one of the Four Dukes who had supported the second prince’s bid for the throne. His son, Vorelter, was a follower of Alistair and had been secretly executed for conspiring against the eldest prince.

Although his son had died in political intrigue, the game of power was never simple. After witnessing the successive downfalls of both the second and eldest princes, Duke Thomas quickly shifted his allegiance, prostrating himself before Amalia and Astrid. He even encouraged his second daughter to spend more time with the Regent, hoping to strengthen ties, apparently treating the death of his son as a minor grudge not worth holding.

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty."

After bowing respectfully to the Empress, Duke Thomas took his seat under Amalia’s permission, his expression calm, brown eyes fixed on the lavishly dressed Empress.

As previously noted, nobles excelled at reading the wind. Thomas could show goodwill to the new Empress for the sake of his family’s interests, and likewise, he could oppose the Empress for the same reason. For instance, the Redgrave family possesses two Arcanist mages. If both were placed under imperial control, their overt military power would become alarmingly weak.

His stance was clear. As for how to cast the opposing vote, Duke Thomas naturally wouldn’t act personally. Instead, he had appointed several proxies. Yet he hadn’t expected the newly appointed Empress to possess such keen political instincts; within just a few days, she had pinpointed him.

Looking at the golden-haired, blue-eyed child-emperor before him, emanating an aura of imperial authority strikingly similar to Hibbort’s, as if carved from the same bone.

But this makes sense, after all. Amalia was Hibbort’s biological daughter.

"I assume Duke Thomas knows the purpose of my invitation to lunch."

Amalia didn’t beat around the bush. She lightly crossed her slender silk-covered legs, lifting one heel off the ground, and spoke with a soft yet firm voice.

"I’ve heard Duke Thomas holds strong reservations about my newly enacted law?"

Her tone remains calm, yet carries a subtle undercurrent of displeasure.

Noticing Amalia’s discontent, Thomas’s expression barely shifted as he replied in a low voice.

"Your Majesty overstates it. My thoughts aren’t so much resentment as concern, for both the Empire and my family."

Amalia tapped her knuckles slightly against the table. "What, exactly, does Duke Thomas fear?"

Both parties knew the answer, but Amalia asked anyway to keep the conversation flowing and prevent an overly stiff atmosphere. A slightly softened tone didn’t necessarily mean weakness.

This, too, was one of the negotiating arts Astrid had taught her, offering the other party a graceful way out.

Duke Thomas answered truthfully.

"I fear that the centralized mobilization of Arcanist mages will severely destabilize domestic peace."

Arcanist mages, though nominally under imperial command, were in practice the private forces of the nobility. Trained at great expense, their purpose was to deter threats and elevate their families’ influence. How could they simply be taken away at the Empress’ whim?

This was a matter of utmost importance, arguably even surpassing taxation issues.

"Your Majesty is well aware that the Empire is currently at war. The importance of Arcanist mages is self-evident."

If Arcanist mages were deployed in battle, the lives of these nobles would fall within the range of devastating magic. At such a critical juncture, without Arcanist mages nearby for protection, there would be only one outcome.

Like commoners, they will perish under flames, storms, searing light blades, and surging thunder tides.

Nobles accustomed to luxury value their lives above all else. Even imperial decrees will be resisted in their own ways.

In Duke Thomas’s eyes, Amalia was merely a newly crowned, unstable ruler. With Astrid, the Regent entrusted with guardianship, currently inspecting the northern territories, she likely relies on the resolve to enforce such a controversial law by force.

Unless Amalia completely disregarded the nobility’s opinions and wished to become a tyrant ruling by sheer will.

"It is exactly because they are so important that I enact this law, requiring them to answer the Empress’ call during critical moments."

Amalia’s voice grew deeper, her emerald eyes locking onto the man’s gaze.

The law targeted Arcanist mages, but its actual enforcement depends on the nobility’s cooperation, after all, the mages were under their control.

"If the Kingdom of Velys launches the first strike using Arcanist mages, while our domestic Arcanist mages remain scattered and unorganized?"

Without coordination or discipline, they would be picked off one by one.

"Duke Thomas, have you considered these possibilities?"