Chapter 45: Confrontation with Prince Alphonse
The royal audience chamber, where His Majesty the King’s council was to be held, was wrapped in a solemn silence.
The polished marble floor gleamed with the reflections of a grand chandelier suspended from the high ceiling.
On the walls hung portraits of the successive kings of the Bernstein Kingdom, their stern gazes seeming to witness the turning of yet another page in the kingdom’s history.
At the far end of the hall sat King Edward IV, settled deeply into his throne.
To his sides stood the kingdom’s highest ministers, faces tense with formality.
On the right side were Prince Alphonse, the first prince, and the nobles of the conservative faction who supported him.
Every one of their eyes was sharply fixed on a single figure.
At the center of the chamber, Zenon von Arkwright stood alone in dignified silence.
His escort, Gray, had been stopped at the entrance — not permitted to accompany him further.
Hostility, curiosity, and contempt came at him from all directions, but Zenon ignored them all.
Back straight, gaze unwavering, he looked directly at the King.
He wore the Arkwright family’s formal attire — a deep navy ceremonial uniform with minimal ornamentation but impeccable tailoring.
Its simplicity only heightened his cool beauty and unshakable confidence.
“…Raise your head, Zenon von Arkwright.”
The King’s commanding voice broke the silence.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Zenon replied curtly and lifted his face.
“Well then.”
The King rested his chin on his hand, studying Zenon as though weighing his worth.
“Saint Liliana calls you ‘the solitary saint,’ yet my son Alphonse condemns you as ‘a machine devoid of human heart.’ Tell me, which are you truly?”
The atmosphere grew taut.
It was the perfect first question — one that struck at the heart of this hearing.
Who exactly are you?
“Neither, Your Majesty.”
Zenon’s reply was the same as the one he had given Alphonse at the soirée.
“I act only according to my own rational judgment. To some, that may appear saintly. To others, mechanical. But such perceptions belong to the observer, not to me.”
“Oh? You speak as intriguingly as ever.”
A faint, amused smile touched the King’s lips.
At that moment, Alphonse rose sharply to his feet.
“Father! This philosophical sparring with him is a waste of time! There is only one question worth asking — whether the reforms he enacted in Arkwright territory truly serve the interests of the Belnstein Kingdom or not!”
He turned a piercing gaze toward Zeno.
“Zenon von Arkwright, answer me! You stripped the merchant guilds of their long-held autonomy — a foundation of our nation’s tradition! Do you deny that this reckless act destroyed the delicate balance that has long existed among the Crown, the nobility, and the people?”
At his words, the nobles of the conservative faction erupted in agreement.
“Indeed! Without guild regulation, the market will descend into chaos! Poor-quality goods will flood in, and the common folk will suffer for it!”
“‘Free competition,’ you call it — but that’s nothing more than a pretty phrase to justify the law of the jungle, where the strong prey upon the weak!”
A storm of condemnation swept through the hall.
Zenon, however, listened quietly — not a flicker of emotion on his face.
Then, when the noise finally subsided, he began to speak.
“I understand your concerns,”
He said calmly, yet his voice carried clearly across the vast hall.
“However, those concerns stem from a fundamental misunderstanding of reality. The so-called ‘traditional’ guild system you defend had long outlived its purpose. It became a nest of vested interests — monopolizing profit through artificial barriers to entry and price collusion, stifling fair competition.”
From his breast pocket, Zenon drew out a large sheet of parchment — the centerpiece of the presentation he had spent three sleepless nights preparing.
Unfolded, it revealed two bar graphs drawn in bold contrast.
“Please take a look.”
He held it up so that all — the King and nobles alike — could see.
“The left represents one month of economic indicators before the reforms. The right shows the same indicators one month after.”
The nobles needed only a glance to grasp the meaning.
A collective gasp rippled through the chamber.
The numbers on the post-reform graph towered far above the pre-reform figures in every single category.
“Total market turnover — up 300%. New business establishments — up 500%. And the average disposable income per citizen — up 200%. These are the results brought forth by Rakuichi-Rakuza — the policy of open and free trade.”
Zenon read the figures aloud, his tone devoid of emotion — but the sheer weight of the numbers crushed every argument that had preceded them.
“You feared market disorder. Yet the facts show the opposite. Freedom of competition inspired merchants to improve quality and lower prices. As a result, the market flourished, and the people grew wealthier. Tell me, gentlemen — is there any counterargument to that?”
Silence.
No one could answer.
Zenon had presented not ideology, not theory — but results, undeniable and absolute.
Alphonse bit his lip so hard it nearly bled.
Humiliation burned through him.
He had been defeated — not by rhetoric, but by fact.
The “tradition” and “order” he cherished had been made to look like relics of a bygone age by a single sheet of parchment.
“…Impressive indeed.”
From the throne came the King’s murmur of admiration.
“Yet, Zenon — success in a single territoryn does not guarantee success across the realm.
Do you truly believe your methods could be applied to the entire kingdom?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Zenon’s reply came without hesitation.
“Of course, local geography and industrial conditions must be considered. However, the principles underlying my reforms — namely, the elimination of waste and the revitalization of the market through free competition, are universal truths. They can be applied to any organization, any nation.”
His words were no longer those of a mere noble presenting a report.
They were a direct challenge to the kingdom’s entire outdated system — and a declaration of absolute confidence that he could lead it into a new era.
Alphonse glared at Zeno, fury and jealousy simmering beneath his calm mask.
(Not yet. This isn’t over.)
He still had one card left to play — one that lay not in economics, but in the kingdom’s very foundations:
Military and diplomacy.
He would see just how far this so-called “rational genius” could go when faced with those.
The true battle of the royal council had only just begun.