Albion Rules the Wind 2 (Patreon)

Albion Rules the Wind 2 - or ‘No, this is not a copycat of Noblesse Oblige’ (Zero no Tsukaima, Wales' Twin!SI)

The assassination of the Cunningham Family had opened a major vacuum of power that had led to several phenomena.

The one that really mattered to my new realm was the sudden migration of peasants. The group was a mix of quality minds and a workforce that needed space to employ their basic skills.

The first thing I accomplished was to do a repeat of what was done with the Whirlpool Island. The project had previously yielded an increase in crops and a rise of the fish market with Albion that lessened dependency to land-based regions in the continent.

The military presence in the island was also an experiment that allowed the late Duke to know how many coins were needed to be invested to sustain a sufficient garrison to keep the place safe both outside and within. Quality reforms for the soldiers regarding uniforms, protections and weaponry had seen some impressive expansion also in terms of discipline.

The notion of permanent armies was already known through the odd status of the military in Germania, with the Emperor there having the influence and power to muster a quality noble army and then call upon mobilizations of conscripts.

Yes, ‘Germany’ was actually Russia. And not too Germany-like beyond the administrative divisions similar to the Holy Roman Empire.

Still, the army was being formed as a ‘defensive’ bulwark against potential invasions from Gallia through the seas. The navy was minuscule due to the lack of a large enough dockyard compound that could tackle a bigger naval construction.

Two months into my new job, I was summoned by the Parliament in relation to the growing instability within the former fief of the Duchy of Cunningham. The path to Londinium was one of relative calm as banditry had been eradicated in my fief, and a light retinue was more than sufficient to make the trip to my destination.

Londinium was clearly in shambles and the proving ground that the clash between monarchists and parliametarianists had led to a major cut in the capital’s budget. The slums looked hideous as they were products of a situation that could have been handled in a more smooth fashion.

I reached the Parliament building no less than ten minutes into the city. And the assistants that guided me to the chambers of the deputies and lords were quite swift with their instructions.

In this unique session, the chambers meant only for the ‘Commons’ had been filled by the Lords too. I wasn’t alerted on why such a situation would have demanded this kind of urgency until the session itself started.

“The king has rejected a bill that would allow the Army to be mustered to stabilize the region,” The head of the session, Lord Pelham, proclaimed. “And we, as Parliament, can’t muster troops to deal with this matter. We asked Duke Wallace for aid, having land that could be provided to him for the effort, but he refused on the ground that the weather has rendered his fields troubled, lessening the yield and lowering the income that could be used to pay for troops.”

I slowly nodded at this, now aware that such a crisis could really cause problems. I thought that the instability would have been cured by the national government, but with the King engaging in a brawl with the Parliament, neither of the leading organs of Albion was able to find a satisfactory solution for the other.

The Parliament wanted this mess stabilized, the King wanted to use this to suck blood and privileges from the parliament by demanding ‘recognition’ for his legitimate kingly power.

So, I was now standing at a crossroad. I could potentially reject this at the expense of potential support of the parliament and keep the status quo going for a while but… the words from Lord Walpole’s letter reached out for my thoughts at the time. It was an opportunity, and I could exploit it.

“I will do it, with two requests. None of which will see any exchange of land or vassals,” I replied with a convinced tone, surprising most of the chamber with my price lacking a request for territorial expansion of my fief. “The first request is one tied to Londinium’s unnerving decline on an infrastructural matter. I understand these circumstances are well beyond Parliament’s wishes, so I am willing to ask, with the Parliament serving the role of administrators for the capital, to provide me with permits to invest on a reorganization of the infrastructure to fix the slums’ issues and modernize the sewage system.”

Lords and Representatives spoke animatedly as I was done talking, with the head of the parliament having to bang his hammer a few times to restore silence.

“Duke Tudor-Walpole, are you asking to use your own money for this, correct?”

“That would be the point of this request. I have seen the shameful decline of a city that should represent us myself and found it to be outrageous. But the state of affairs of our nation has led to severe negligence due to ‘external troubles and clashes’. Which is why I would like to put my own investment to guarantee better housing and a long-overdue improvement of the capital’s sewers to be doable.”

“I believe such a request would need a vote.”

And a vote did occur as the majority supported a win-win situation in their books. But the real trouble came when the second request as I was really toeing a fine line into covering the parliament’s ass from now on.

“I would like to request the role of ‘Marshal to the Parliament’ to prevent new similar instances to emerge and cause new national crises.”

“Such a request is… fair,” Lord Pelham nervously remarked. “But surely Lord Tudor-Walpole is aware that such a role would imply support in the eventuality of a situation of instability for the parliament and its representation by its people.”

“Lord Pelham and fellow lords of this august chamber, I wish to make my pledge clear as simply as possible,” I started to answer with a dry but truthful tone. “I am aware that issues are currently besieging the status quo and I feel compelled to make it clear I shall not seek a subversion of the parliament’s role just as I will not seek the empowering of such a role above the monarch.”

In a few words: I am willing to help you, but you can’t use my help to form a republic.

This much was agreed upon and I left Londinium with both requests accepted, my political position clear on the clash between the parliament and the king, and I had a new job to get to start- the pacification of the Dukedom of Cunningham. As promised, the efforts did not see the implementation of an expansion from my fiefs, but it took time and patience to see it gone through.

I had to rely heavily on diplomacy to see who could be trusted and who couldn’t, and by rallying a faction that was willing to accept a compromise candidate of my choice, I managed to see the rest of the ambitious factions destroyed within five months.

I hit 15 a month ago, and I was the one that pretty much installed a supportive duke for an alliance in the eventuality of a clash between King and Parliament. Duke Townshend was someone that had a stable line of succession despite his age, and had accepted to abdicate in favor to his son at the age of 50 to prevent any further shakes to the new fief.

At this point, the new buildings had been prepared in the capital, allowing for poorer people to find safer and cleaner places to live. And fixing the sewage system guarantees a lessening of sickness among the needy.

Some of the poor, however, decided to migrate in my fief, deciding to relocate in the new drive to ‘colonize’ the large product of the new island-formation project.

The Emerald Island, or ‘Ireland’ as it was named by the illiterate locals, was soon occupied by a sizable number of people that freed space in the capital and bolstered the economy within the Dukedom I was in charge of.

The new money, the bits that weren’t hurled at expenses and taxes to the crown, were used to create hospitals and elementary schools across the fief. The local Magic Academy was expanded with a bigger budget, but also a focus to approve the initiation of peasant-born students through a trust-fund I personally established.

The ‘Champion of the People’, that’s how many were keen to call me. Or, in some radical spheres, the ‘True King’.

My pacification campaign was met with a degree of quiet irritation from the king. I knew he had been opposed to my nomination as Marshal to the Parliament, knowing its full embarrassing meaning with an eventual violent clash between troops.

The king may try to wage war by using troops he rallied from loyal vassals in the Crownlands, but the Parliament had recently noticed the fact it neglected some of its roles and worked on keeping up.

Such a move was, by all means, a pragmatic one. The Parliament may have good people, but the overwhelming majority were gray figures with one thing in mind: influence and self-preservation. By ingratiating the people, the chances of a solid Royal Army against them would be limited.

So, for now, nothing truly came as the King didn’t try to approach me. Not through the means of normal meetings.

He managed to get me involved in something when he forwarded me ‘permission’ to ‘finally attend a longstanding tradition’: I had been invited to the 13th Birthday of Princess Henrietta de Tristain.

And the forwarded letter was worded in a way to ‘make sure I didn’t ignore such an important foreign affair’.

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AN

Someone’s about to get headpatted for the sake of destressing!