Reincarnated with the Country System-Chapter 213: The Last King

The helicopter blades roared like devils gnashing their teeth.

Its descent stirred ash and soot across the ruined helipad atop Lata's former Ministry Tower—a crooked building now draped in Bernard Empire banners.

Alberto stepped out first.

"Capital city of a 'proud kingdom' reduced to dogshit in days," Circe muttered, stepping over a crater.

Brigadier General Hans waited by the command truck, helmet under one arm, wrapped in a thick flak coat. His face was gaunt—too many nights without sleep, too many decisions with blood on both sides.

"Your Majesty," he said with a crisp salute. "Welcome.We have made all the arrangements."

"Good," Alberto replied. "Where's Eric?"

Hans gestured toward the hill. "Royal Palace. Waiting for you. Surrounded himself with local brass and half the damn clergy. Looks like he wants to play 'big boy politics.'"

Alberto grinned faintly. "Then let's teach him the rules."

...

The Royal Palace had been hastily repaired, though the burn marks still painted its marble walls like abstract blasphemy.

Inside the grand war hall—once a banquet chamber where Caspian toasted peace treaties with trembling hands—now stood the men who thought they still ruled something.

King Eric I sat at the table's head, clad in a sharp black military uniform with golden trim and his own making sigil—House Eriksen's roaring bear—stitched on the breast. His crown was modest, but his posture wasn't. He exuded the smug confidence of a man who thought he'd won the game.

To his left sat Bishop Laurentius, eyes sunken from prayer and exhaustion; to the right, Lord-Commander Dainas, arms folded across armored chest, a man with too much pride and too few troops. A gaggle of ministers, advisors, and nobles filled the chamber, most of them visibly sweating.

Eric stood as Alberto entered. "Emperor Bernard. Welcome to the New Latvia."

Alberto didn't stop walking. He strode past the guards, past the tapestries, and right up to the head of the table. Then he placed both gloved hands flat on the polished oak.

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"Cut the bullshit, Eric."

A hush swept the room like a blade through silk.

Alberto's eyes narrowed. "This isn't the New Latvia. It's the Old Latvia—beaten, broken, and bleeding out under my boot. And I didn't come all this way to play house with a little lordling in a stolen palace."

Eric's smile twitched. "We bled for this throne, Emperor. My allies and I fought tooth and nail to liberate this nation. The people—what's left of them—want a Latvian king. Not an imperial viceroy. We can work together, but Latvia must remain sovereign."

Alberto chuckled darkly, stepping around the table like a lion circling a chained dog.

"Sovereignty," he repeated, spitting the word like it tasted sour. "What a fucking joke. Your sovereignty died the moment my soldiers set foot on this land. The moment We captured your cities with my soldiers, my guns, my gods-damned railgun. Do you think we spent so much money and resources to make you king? My soldiers gave their lives fighting with Caspian so that I could get this territory and I took it."

He stopped behind Eric and leaned in.

"You're not a king. You're a mascot."

Eric's jaw tightened. "You wouldn't dare insult me like this if I didn't have the people's support. They'll riot. There are still loyalists—"

"They'll starve."

Alberto's voice dropped like a hammer.

"Do you think I give a shit about 'loyalists'? I could flood this valley with nerve gas and leave the crows to write your history. But I'm not here to wipe you out—I'm here to make use of you."

He walked back to the front, waving to Carl. Carl tapped his wrist console. A hologram burst to life midair: topographic scans, resource graphs, mineral yields, troop deployments, food stockpiles.

Circe smiled wickedly, stepping forward. "Let's spell it out for you, Eric. Latvia's got mana-rich rivers, deep vein iron, rare crystal fields, and—best of all—untapped divine oil under the southern marshes. You're sitting on the cock of god, and we're here to milk it."

Gasps from the clergy. Bishop Laurentius made a sign of warding.

Eric barked, "You can't just declare ownership over our land!"

"I can, and I just fucking did," Alberto said flatly. "Latvia is now a colony of the Bernard Empire. Full-spectrum control. Land, wealth, infrastructure, legislation. Your currency? Gone. Your military? Disarmed. Your religion? Registered and monitored. This isn't a negotiation. This is annexation."

Eric stood, slamming his hands on the table. "You said we'd be partners!"

"I lied."

Silence.

The nobles began murmuring in panic. Lord Dainas half-drew his blade, then froze when Carl's sidearm twitched in its holster. Bishop Laurentius slumped in his chair, lips moving in prayer.

Eric's voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "You bastard. You think you've won."

Alberto stepped closer, until they were nearly nose to nose.

"I have won. And if you want to stay alive long enough to taste the scraps I feed you, you'll play your part, smile for the cameras, and let me hollow out your kingdom from the inside like a fucking rotted peach."

He turned to the ministers. "Here's how this is going to work. Starting tomorrow, all Latvian governmental bodies are dissolved. The Imperial Consolidation Office will handle administration. You want your jobs? Apply to me. You want your titles? Swear fealty under my system interface. You don't? Hang yourself in the cellar and save me the trouble."

He clapped once, sharp as gunfire. "Three new military academies will be built in Lata, Venskal, and the coast. Only Bernard-approved instructors. We're drafting your children. We're building roads, ports, weapon foundries. And we're extracting every drop of wealth this country tried to hoard."

"People won't follow you," Eric said, trying to steady his breath. "They'll rebel."

"Then I'll bury them in mass graves under golden statues of myself. I don't care"

Circe laughed.

♦♦♦

Later, in the war room, Eric sat slumped in his chair, eyes hollow. Edith tried to comfort him, but he shrugged her off.

"I thought I could outsmart him," he whispered. "Thought I could use him."