THE TRASH PRINCE'S BLUEPRINTS SYSTEM

CHAPTER 5: THE CROWN MOVES & THE PROVINCE AWAKENS

The air inside the Crimson Grace Basilica is thick, & heavy with incense, candle smoke, and tension sharp enough to draw blood.

Pope Valerian Blackmoor stands at the head of the long obsidian table, with hands clasped behind his back, & white robes flowing like a blade of purity barely concealing steel beneath.

“As you have clearly heard, ladies and gentlemen, Third Prince Cain has made his move. This is preposterous, and cannot be allowed to stand. Yet we dare not sit around like ducks either.”

His voice is calm, like the kind of calm that precedes war.

Across the table, Crown Prince Alaric Vaelen Blackmoor-Thaloria leans back lazily in his chair, with one leg crossed over the other, & a slow smile spreading across his lips like poison.

“What do you suggest we do then, Uncle? Do you already have a plan to counter Third Prince Cain? Send him a strongly worded letter, perhaps?”

Alaric says lightly.

A few nobles stiffen.

A cardinal chokes softly.

Pope Valerian’s gaze sharpens instantly.

“This is a serious matter, nephew, and yet you still have the time to joke around. If you let your half-brother gain even more power, the consequences will be-”

“I know the consequences well enough, Uncle.”

Alaric cuts him off without hesitation.

He rises slowly & deliberately, & slams the Holy Book down on the table, with the sound echoing like a gunshot through the chamber.

“Why waste time talking when we can decisively act? Cut the weed, or burn it, before it becomes troublesome. Nip it at the roots.”

Alaric’s voice turns cold & surgical.

Silence falls in a heavy & oppresive way.

Lord Vice-Governor Frederick Blackmoor cautiously clears his throat.

“What are you implying, Your Highness? That we send assassins after the Third Prince? That will earn the ire of the King… and the Second Prince. You know it as well.”

“Sending assassins directly is better than doing nothing at all, my lord. You are cautious, & that is very commendable. But even a cautious man must act when his life or reputation is at risk.”

Alaric tilts his head slightly in an amused manner.

A cardinal steps forward, with clasped hands, & voice dripping with sanctimony.

“I shall pray to the Holy One for guidance during these dark times, Your Highness.”

Alaric’s smile widens into a sharp & cruel smile.

“Pray all you want, Your Eminence. If the Holy One listens to your mumblings. Let’s see if your prayers save you when you face my half-brother’s wrath.”

Alaric leans forward slightly.

The room tightens.

“The only thing dark here are your eyes. Open them.”

Alaric says softly.

“Enough.”

Pope Valerian’s voice cracks like a whip.

“Sit down, nephew. We cannot afford to alienate our allies.”

Alaric holds his gaze for a moment.

Then sits, while still smiling.

The Pope exhales slowly, then turns to the room.

“I admit my nephew has a point.”

That alone sends a ripple of unease across the nobles.

“We must act decisively before the situation worsens.”

His eyes shift.

“Lord Vice Governor Frederick, place all forces of House Blackmoor on high alert. Intensify training. I want soldiers ready if this escalates into civil war.”

Frederick nods stiffly.

“Yes, Your Holiness.”

“And you, nephew,” Valerian continues, as he locks eyes with Alaric.

“You will ensure those forces are properly equipped and funded. Use the royal treasury if necessary. The King will not intervene unless this situation spirals out of control.”

Alaric nods once.

“As for the rest of you, you will support these efforts fully, with no hesitation & excuses.”

The Pope says as his voice drops even lower & colder.

He leans forward slightly.

“If I hear ifs or buts, I will execute you myself and replace you with someone who will obey.”

No one dares to speak, much less breath.

“Furthermore, ”

His lips curl into a thin & knowing smile.

“We will not kill the Third Prince outright. ”

The room listens.

“We will sabotage him at every turn, undermine his authority, destroy his support, & bleed him slowly. This meeting is dismissed.”

Inside Frostmark Castle, high above the frozen city, Raphael Laurent lounges in a luxurious chair, with one leg draped lazily over the other.

“Hey, System, analyze the damn situation all over Frostmark City for me. And analyze the Province’s finances while you’re at it.”

“ Ding.

Analyzing.

Analysis Complete.

Findings:

Government Services: nonexistent.

Taxes: Excessive.

Citizen Sentiment: Unstable.

Crime Rate: Extreme.

Condition: Severe.

Recommendation: Direct and drastic personal intervention. “

Raphael exhales slowly.

“Yeah, no shit.”

“ Ding. Analyzing Financial Conditions.

Frostmark Province Financial Analysis Complete.

Findings:

Massive Fund Misappropriation Detected.

Royal Treasury funds used for personal luxury.

Tax revenue diverted illegally.

Condition: Severe.

Recommendation: Immediate embargo and confiscation. “

Raphael’s grin fades.

“Fuck. This place is worse than I thought.”

Raphael stands, & looks around his room.

There are silks, gold, excess, & waste.

“ First things first, this room has to be cleaned out. “

He claps once.

“Clear everything out.”

Servants hesitate, but Raphael stares.

The servants quickly clear his room.

Within minutes, the entire room is stripped bare with not even a single speck of furniture.

“Hey, System, materialize a foldable luxury bed, self-cleaning cabinet, clothing racks, laundry system, typewriter, self-refilling pens, documents, wall clock, wide work table, and a proper chair. It has to be prearranged. Now.”

Reality bends.

“ Ding. Blueprint Points Remaining: 18 Billion. “

Everything appears instantly, and the room is now clean, precise, & functional.

The room transforms into a command center.

Raphael nods once.

“Now that’s more like it.”

He sits, grabs the typewriter, & begins typing quickly & efficiently.

Each keystroke is sharp & deliberate.

Orders of embargoes, confiscation directives & execution permissions flood out.

He signs them not just with his name, but with forged signatures of the Prime Minister, Crown Prince, Treasurer, & his father the King.

“Royal bureaucracy is a pain in the ass. Why follow rules when I can just break them wantonly?”

Raphael mutters to himself.

The orders go out.

Knights move, and garrisons mobilize.

And something unexpected happens.

The loyalists guarding the Frostmark wealth surrender immediately, with no resistance.

Fear works faster than steel.

Raphael watches reports come in.

“Good.”

He doesn’t stop there.

“Hold an auction. Everything confiscated must be sold immediately.”

Even his own past belongings are gone & sold.

Within minutes, gold floods the treasury.

Just like that, Frostmark’s finances are fixed completely.

“A broke governor is a powerless governor “

He says to himself.

Then he leans back, & thinks on how to temporarily resolve the dire poverty of the Frostmark City residents.

The flyers spread like wildfire all over Frostmark City.

They are printed, distributed, and read aloud, thanks to the city criers instructed by Raphael.

The fliers read:

TEMPORARY CASH ASSISTANCE

FROM YOUR GOVERNOR

THIRD PRINCE CAIN VAILTAIR THALORIA

Amount: 800 Thalorian Golden Dragons per citizen

Location: Frostmark Castle Grounds

Requirement: Proof of residency

When: Right Now “

The city explodes in shock, disbelief & hope.

Eight hundred golden dragons is enough to change lives, save families, & reignite loyalty.

Citizens flood toward Frostmark Castle grounds, clutching documents, & breathing hard in the cold air.

Inside the castle grounds, long tables are lined up, with coin pouches stacked neatly right on top.

Each one of the coin pouches are heavy & real.