Journey to Become the Zenith

The Burden of Independence

"What is it?"

"The workers from the western district are requesting additional food."

Eon sighed.

"How much?"

"Enough for three hundred people."

Brinda immediately looked at him.

"Three hundred?"

The administrator nodded.

"They’ve been repairing the outer road since sunrise."

Eon rubbed his forehead.

"Give them what we can."

The administrator hesitated.

"And tomorrow?"

Eon stared at him for a moment.

"We’ll deal with tomorrow when it comes."

The administrator bowed.

"Yes, Lord Eon."

He turned to leave.

"Wait."

The administrator stopped.

Eon looked at him.

"Tell them their work hasn’t gone unnoticed."

A small smile appeared on the administrator’s face.

"I will."

He bowed once more before leaving the room.

The door closed behind him.

For a moment, neither Eon nor Brinda spoke.

The room became quiet again.

Only the faint sounds of the city reached them through the window.

Brinda looked at Eon.

"You really meant that."

Eon gave her a puzzled look.

"Of course I did."

He turned toward the window.

Beyond the glass, the city was still struggling to recover.

Some buildings remained damaged.

Others had already begun to rise again.

Workers moved through the streets.

Carrying stone.

Dragging timber.

Repairing walls that had been broken during the fighting.

Eon watched them for a while.

"If people are willing to work for this place, the least we can do is make sure they know their effort matters."

His voice was quieter this time.

There was no complaint in it.

No sarcasm.

He genuinely meant every word.

Brinda’s expression softened.

She had seen Eon complain about nearly everything since Victor left.

The food supplies.

The paperwork.

The damaged roads.

The merchants.

The endless requests from different districts.

Sometimes she wondered how he managed to complain so much and still get everything done.

But beneath all those complaints, something had changed.

Eon had started caring.

At first, it had been difficult to notice.

It was hidden behind his irritation and constant sighing.

But now it was obvious.

He cared about the workers.

He cared about the people living in the city.

He cared about whether the rebuilding actually succeeded.

And perhaps that was the dangerous part.

The more he watched people rebuild their homes, the harder it became to imagine simply walking away from them.

Brinda picked up another document from the table.

"There is something else."

Eon slowly turned around.

"What now?"

"The merchants."

Eon’s expression immediately changed.

"What about them?"

"They’ve started asking when the new trade regulations will be finalized."

Eon groaned.

"Of course they have."

Brinda glanced down at the document.

"They also want protection agreements."

"Naturally."

"And several guild representatives are requesting official contracts."

Eon stared at the ceiling.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then he let out another long sigh.

"Why does everyone suddenly want something?"

Brinda gave him a dry smile.

"Because you are running a government now."

Eon lowered his gaze.

He looked at her.

"We aren’t supposed to be doing this alone."

"I know."

"Victor left us with an entire city."

"Yes."

"And then he walked away."

Brinda’s lips curved into a faint smile.

"That’s Victor."

Eon shook his head.

There was genuine disbelief in his expression.

"That man really does have an incredible talent for creating impossible problems."

Brinda laughed softly.

"You’ve only just realized that?"

Eon gave her an annoyed look.

"No. I’ve known it for a long time."

He picked up the next document.

Then he looked at the mountain of paperwork waiting on the table.

His expression slowly fell.

"Unfortunately, knowing it doesn’t make the problems disappear."

Brinda smiled.

"No. It doesn’t."

Eon stared at the papers.

Then he sighed again.

"Fine."

He reached for the first document.

"Let’s see what disaster is waiting for us next."

Despite everything, Brinda laughed.

For a moment, the tension in the room eased.

Then another knock came.

This time, several fallen nobles entered.

They carried ledgers and sealed documents.

One of them bowed.

"Lord Eon."

Eon gestured toward the table.

"Report."

The noble placed several papers down.

"We’ve reviewed the remaining resources."

"And?"

"We can redirect another portion of the former noble estates."

Eon’s eyes sharpened.

"How much?"

The noble gave him the figure.

Eon calculated silently.

It wasn’t enough.

Not even close.

Brinda noticed his expression.

"Still short."

"Very."

Another noble spoke.

"There is also the possibility of opening trade with nearby territories."

Eon considered it.

"That will take time."

"Yes."

"And we don’t have time."

The noble lowered his head.

"I understand."

Another fallen noble stepped forward.

"We could temporarily reduce the military budget."

Eon immediately shook his head.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because we’re surrounded by enemies."

His voice hardened.

"If we weaken our defenses just when everyone is watching us, someone will take advantage of it."

Brinda nodded.

"He’s right."

The noble sighed.

"Then what do we do?"

Nobody answered.

The room fell quiet again.

Outside, the sound of construction continued.

Hammer.

Hammer.

Hammer.

Each strike seemed to mark the passing of time.

Eon looked at the city.

For the first time, the scale of what they were attempting truly settled over him.

Victor had given them freedom.

But freedom wasn’t free.

It demanded food.

Gold.

Workers.

Law.

Protection.

Leadership.

And every mistake would eventually reach Victor’s ears.

That thought made Eon’s fingers tighten around the edge of the desk.

He remembered the man who had walked away from the city without hesitation.

Victor was not someone they could casually disappoint.

Based on what they had seen, two things could happen.

One possibility was that Victor wouldn’t care very much.

The only thing that seemed to truly affect him was battle.

Politics, money, administration...

Those things might simply be noise to him.

But there was another possibility.

A far worse one.

Eon slowly looked toward Brinda.

Brinda met his eyes.

Neither spoke.

They didn’t need to.

If Victor became truly angry, the consequences could be unimaginable.

He might decide that they had failed.

He might decide that they were useless.

He might decide to kill them all.

Or worse.

He could do something they couldn’t even predict.

Brinda’s fingers tightened around the parchment.

"Don’t say it."

Eon frowned.

"I didn’t."

"You were thinking it."

"So were you."

She looked away.

The memory alone was enough to make her shoulders tense.

Eon quietly closed the ledger.

"Then we need to find a solution."

Brinda nodded.

"Before the people stop believing."

"Before the money runs out."

"And before Victor comes back."

Neither of them said anything after that.

Outside, New Fantom City continued to build itself beneath the night sky.

Every hammer strike sounded like hope.

Every unfinished wall was a reminder of how fragile that hope really was.

And somewhere beyond the city, Victor was walking his own path.

For Eon and Brinda, however, the work had only just begun.

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