I Reincarnated as a Prince Who Revolutionized the Kingdom-Chapter 130: Proposing New Law

June 19th, 1701 – Royal Palace of Elysea

The candlelight flickered softly within the king's private chamber, casting long shadows across the carved bookshelves and oil paintings of dead monarchs. Outside, the palace gardens shimmered in the moonlight, undisturbed by the weight that sat so heavily on King Bruno's shoulders.

He did not sleep.

Instead, he sat by the hearth once more, nursing a half-finished cup of wine, the scroll from Masséna still on the table beside him—unread for the tenth time.

A soft knock came at the door.

"Enter," Bruno said, not turning.

Antoine Leclerc stepped inside, less formal than usual. His coat was unbuttoned, and fatigue clung to him like dust.

"You summoned me, sire?"

Bruno gestured to the seat across from him. "Sit. I need a clear mind tonight."

Leclerc obeyed.

There was a long silence between them, broken only by the crackle of fire and the distant howl of wind brushing against the palace walls.

Then Bruno spoke.

"Roux was a man we raised," he said, his voice calm but heavy. "We clothed him in titles. We placed him in command. He dined in our halls. And yet, when the moment came, he turned against the very crown that fed him."

Leclerc nodded slowly. "The pain of betrayal from within always cuts deepest."

"It does more than cut," Bruno murmured. "It rots."

He turned to look at his minister. "We gave him everything. Autonomy. Command. Respect. He did not lack privilege. And yet, it was not enough. His ideals outgrew his duty. His vision eclipsed his loyalty."

Leclerc folded his hands on his lap. "You're wondering how to prevent another like him."

Bruno's gaze lingered on the fire.

"Yes. We cannot allow another rebellion to rise from within our own circle. Not from governors. Not from generals. Not even from ministers who sit beside me."

Leclerc's brow furrowed. "Then what are you proposing, sire?"

Bruno stood slowly, walking toward the tall arched window overlooking the courtyard. The city beyond sparkled with lanterns and quiet joy, unaware of the storm raging in his thoughts.

"I once believed that giving power to the capable was enough. That men of merit, if trusted, would act in the interest of the crown. But I was wrong."

He turned back.

"Power alone does not corrupt. It reveals. And unchecked, it multiplies ambition."

Leclerc stayed quiet, absorbing the words.

Bruno continued.

"Roux was not corrupted by enemies or coin. He was corrupted by belief. By the idea that he was better suited to lead than the throne itself."

"A dangerous conviction," Leclerc said softly.

Bruno returned to his chair.

"We must rebuild the system of appointments. No longer will military governors hold civil authority unchecked. From now on, every colonial general will answer not only to the court—but to an inspector appointed directly by the crown."

Leclerc raised an eyebrow. "Even generals like Masséna?"

Bruno hesitated.

"Yes," he said. "Especially generals like Masséna. No man must ever stand so tall that he sees the empire beneath him."

Leclerc leaned forward slightly. "That will anger the military establishment."

"Let them be angered," Bruno said sharply. "It is better they grumble in barracks than rise in rebellion."

He stood again, pacing now.

"There will be oversight. There will be rotation. No governor will rule more than four years in the same colony. Loyalty must be renewed through service, not sustained through entrenchment."

Leclerc tapped his fingers together. "And the civilian governors?"

"They will be drawn only from those without ties to local factions. Neutral. Loyal. And they will have no standing army. Their protection will be provided by the Crown Guard."

Leclerc gave a small nod. "Checks and balances."

"Exactly," Bruno said. "We trusted one man too much. We trusted that his love for the New World would not eclipse his duty to Elysea."

He looked Leclerc in the eye.

"And we were wrong."

Leclerc folded his arms. "There's one more matter, sire."

"What is it?"

Leclerc hesitated before saying it.

"The court will call for more than reforms. They'll want punishment. Examples. They'll want to purge the institutions Roux touched."

Bruno exhaled through his nose.

"Then let them. But no blood for its own sake. No witch hunts. Find those who conspired with Roux knowingly—who armed, funded, or protected him. The rest… we discipline, not destroy."

"And the clergy in the colonies who preached in his favor?"

Bruno frowned. "Summon them to the capital. Reassign them. Silence the symbols. Do not let them become icons of resistance."

Leclerc nodded. "Understood."

Bruno moved back to the fire. The warmth didn't seem to reach him.

"The irony," he said quietly, "is that Roux wanted to give his people freedom. And in doing so, he only justified their chains."

Leclerc stood as well.

"And you, Your Majesty? What do you want now?"

Bruno's face was distant.

"Stability. Peace. An empire that does not require blood to keep its borders intact."

He looked at his minister.

"But if we must choose between loyalty and liberty, we must always choose loyalty. The realm cannot afford dreamers."

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

He walked to the shelf, pulling a new parchment scroll from the drawer.

"I will begin drafting the Royal Decree of Colonial Reform tonight. When it is ready, you will present it to the Council."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Bruno placed the blank parchment on his desk.

"One more thing, Leclerc."

"Yes, sire?"

"When the poets write of this war, ensure they do not forget what Roux did. Let him be remembered for his brilliance—and his betrayal."

He met Leclerc's gaze.

"But not his martyrdom."

Leclerc bowed. "As you command."

He turned to leave.

Bruno stared down at the parchment, quill hovering.

For a brief moment, he hesitated.

Then he began to write.

The rebellion was over.

But the preservation of the empire had only just begun.

The ink flowed steadily across the parchment as Bruno drafted the first lines of the Royal Decree. It wasn't written like a speech or a grand proclamation—it was a plan. A system of rules meant to stop the next Roux before he could even rise.