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53.7% Path Of War / Chapter 115: Leadership

บท 115: Leadership

Arthur sat behind the imposing oak desk in the heart of the capital of the Water Country.

Sunlight streamed through the grand windows, casting rays across stacks of parchment. The weight of responsibility was evident.

Today, he was not merely a ninja. Today, he was John Belfort, the acting leader of the Water Country, a role that demanded every ounce of his considerable focus and skill.

The days filled with rigorous training in combat, strategy, and acumen now felt distant, especially during quieter moments like this when he was engulfed by administrative tasks. He recalled the minor side mission to the Fire Temple—a mission so rare within the broader spectrum of his duties that it now felt fleeting.

It was a reminder of the balance he had to maintain: a ninja in the shadows but a leader by necessity.

Under the authority of feudal lord Hiromu, Arthur navigated the governance of an entire country. Hiromu, although ostensibly in charge, followed Arthur's directives with a willing obedience that made the young leader's path smoother.

Yet, therein lay the paradox of his position—the constant balancing act of authority versus organization.

Arthur's responsibilities flooded his mind as he rifled through documents, his eyes scanning not just the ink blotches, but also the implications lying beneath each line and figure.

He knew that a single misjudgment could lead his country into disarray.

A slip in financial management would cause a betrayal of trust from the citizens; a hasty military decision might ignite conflict with the Mizukage, escalating into a civil war again that could ravage everything he held.

In all of his work, there were nine things keeping his country together—seven of which he focused more on.

Military service. This obligation loomed large. Arthur understood that the defense of the Water Country against outside threats showcased the strength of a competent leader.

He meticulously kept an eye on the Mizukage, not from a place of animosity, but rather as a strategic precaution. Knowledge was the acumen of leadership; knowing when to strike and when to be still was as vital as any physical skill.

Land management. That had become something he deftly achieved with the assistance of his council.

Arthur relied on this council composed of dependable advisors, local lords, and skilled administrators. They governed the vast stretches of land and water under his purview, working tirelessly in agriculture, livestock, and resource management.

Yet, every document that crossed his desk required his scrutiny—he could not rely solely on others to safeguard anyone's welfare. To identify and fix these problems, he merged intuition and reports, always looking out for signs that might indicate trouble brewing.

Then there was protection of vassals. That was yet another priority that he delicately layered into his daily affairs.

Whether it was ensuring the safety of farmers bringing goods to the market or mitigating tensions between visiting merchants from the Land of Waves, he was attentive to every shade.

He restricted revelry among the guards when there were whispers of bandit activity along the borders, sending out more patrols lest an opportunity arise for mischief.

As Arthur continued to sift through paperwork, the duties of justice administration reminded him that even in his absence as a judge, decisions he made affected the fabric of society.

He consulted with local judges to ensure that their sentences remained fair and tempered with compassion. Rumours of the harshness of the law could shatter trust, and with trust dwindling, he might find himself leading a volatile land.

He couldn't afford to shake the foundation of integrity the Water Country stood upon.

Then came the challenging task of financial management. Every coin collected meant nourishment for families; each tax was a thread that kept society together.

Arthur poured over ledgers and documents, checking for errors or discrepancies that could signal corruption. He understood that financial decisions were close to the core of this country—too high taxes could fracture loyalty, while insufficient funds could hinder military readiness.

Risk, reward, and the care of his compatriots exuded from every calculation.

Next was building and maintenance. This offered hope to the frail citizens.

Renewal and construction turned towns into thriving hubs. Roads to link the capital with its surrounding villages, fortifications to protect against nefarious intents, and even buildings that nurtured art and culture paved a way forward.

He understood that nurturing creativity could unify his people deeper than what governance could. His vision extended beyond the mere bricks and mortar; to provide space for artists, musicians, and scholars cultivated a culture.

It also projected strength, which nearby land lords could not ignore.

A sudden knock on the door stopped his studious pursuit. Sparing a fleeting glance from his mountains of documentation, he said in a calm tone, "Enter."

In walked his secretary, a woman of quiet resilience whose meticulous record-keeping kept Arthur informed about the political shifts of neighbouring realms.

Her arrival signaled information, but it was also a reminder of the broader task of diplomacy (his seventh job) that he was interested in.

"Excuse the intrusion, lord John," she calmly began. "The other lords from the neighbouring regions are requesting a meeting. They wish to discuss potential alliances—some out of necessity, others out of ambition. How shall we proceed?"

Arthur leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Diplomacy was a tightrope walk—one misstep could lead to consequences that could destabilize everything.

"Send out emissaries," he replied, "but wear their intentions on our sleeves. We show willingness to discuss, but commitment to our land's well-being is of more importance, seeing that this is not an emergency. If they persist, then I'll go."

"Of course," the secretary replied with a bow. "There's also talk of a marriage alliance in the southern provinces that would strengthen our position."

"Explore it as you see fit," he commanded, "but ensure the two are in love before making any decisions."

Marriage alliances were his eighth job. They had been historically potent tools; they not only solidified relationships but also built political unions.

What he understood, however, was that no one should marry for the sake of power alone. Hence why he demanded to know if the two parties loved one another first.

As the secretary swept out of the room, Arthur settled back into the comfortable silence of his office.

There was one last job he had to attend to: patronage of the arts. Such investment affirmed the identity of the Water Country amidst so much strife—a cultural evolution that many artisans wanted support for their local crafts.

Just as he was about to review the next stack of papers, there was another knock at the door.

"Come in," he said, knowing that it would not be his secretary.

When the man entered, Arthur recognized him immediately—it was a local merchant from one of the smaller towns.

For weeks now, this merchant had been expressing his concerns about his failing business, complaints that had arrived at Arthur's desk with an alarming frequency.

Arthur's initial instinct was to shield himself from the continuous grievances of the populace; after all, a governor could not fix every individual's woes.

"Grab a chair and sit," Arthur gestured, shifting his mood to one of patient understanding.

The man fidgeted with the edges of his tunic and bowed before saying, "Thank you for seeing me, my lord."

"Let's not beat around the bush," Arthur said calmly. "I know you've been struggling, and I've seen your reports. Your business is not prospering as you would like. Tell me, what have you done to change your situation?"

The man's eyes glistened with frustration as he took a seat, anguish evident in every crease that marred his expression.

"I've tried everything!" he yelled. "Lowering prices, bringing in different goods, even offering discounts, but… nothing seems to work. Customers aren't coming to my store, and my debts are mounting—"

"Stop," Arthur interjected, signaling for silence. The man piped up after noticing his rudeness. "From what I've gathered, the issue isn't about your product range or pricing. You need to market your goods more effectively."

"Market?" the merchant frowned, his confusion momentarily paralyzing his words.

Arthur leaned forward with a dark gaze that penetrated the man's core.

"Yes, market. You need to ensure that people know about your store and understand why it's worth their time and money. Quality should always be prioritized over just lowering your prices. If they see the value in what you're offering, they will be more inclined to support your business."

"Are you saying I should spend more money?" the man's voice trembled with disbelief. "But my funds... it's all in the stock I can't sell!"

"Is that so?" Arthur calmly responded, reaching into a drawer and retrieving a small silk pouch filled with ryō. "I will lend you one thousand ryō with no interest. These funds are meant to help you reinvest into your business—as a last chance to turn your situation around."

The man's eyes widened before anxiety clouded his features. He stammered, asking, "I—thank you, but is this a loan?"

"Yes and no," Arthur replied. "Consider it a loan with a warning. If you do not produce real results in three months' time, I will have no choice but to cease your assets. That means everything you own could be forfeited."

The man swallowed hard due to the dichotomy of happiness and fear. So he said, "I… I will do my utmost, my lord! I don't want to lose everything."

Arthur nodded and said, "Then do not squander this opportunity. Use these funds wisely, increase the quality of your inventory, and ensure your store is advertised effectively. If you cling to these principles, you might avert this crisis. And remember, leadership is not merely about giving; it's equally about accountability."

With a mix of relief and trepidation, the merchant clutched the pouch tightly, sliding it into his cloak. Then he said, "I will make you proud, my lord. I swear it!"

"Swear not at all," Arthur replied, quoting from the bible. "Either by heaven; for it is God's throne: nor by the earth; for it is his footstool."

Watching as the man exited the room, Arthur felt that he still had a lot of work to do. It was moments like these that validated his role as a leader—a leader who did not abandon the citizens.

While things remained laden with challenges, he took solace in knowing that through guidance and opportunity, he was paving the way for possible growth, not only for that merchant but for the entire country.

As dusk fell, the documents continued to pile high.

Arthur took a breath. He stood there, looking out over the capital from his office window.

The streets, even at this hour, were filled with laughter and chatter among the marketgoers. Here, in these moments of simple joy, he knew it wouldn't last long.

He had chosen not to make rash economic decisions, which was why they felt secure at this hour. Instead, he focused on incremental growth—nurturing the roots of the Water Country so they could withstand storms yet to come.

The decisions he made today aimed not merely to govern the present but to construct a legacy that no average person could accomplish without faith.

As night crept into the capital, he returned to his desk.

"John Belfort" might not yet have worn the title of feudal lord, but he commanded such respect.

Every paper he signed, every decision he deferred, and every alliance he fostered reflected his belief in steadfastness—leadership not driven by the immediacy of rewards but by the profound impact of wise governance.

'There are still a few months until my lab is finished constructing,' he reminded himself.

One tumultuous night complete, several brighter dawns awaited.

Having a country was great and did show power, but he, a ninja, also knew the importance of growing that power.

With that quiet thought, Arthur turned off the lights in his office and vanished.


บท 116: Scandal

The steady chime of a distant bell broke the monotony of the secretary-general's restless dreams.

He stirred in bed before slowly rising. Beside him, his wife was already out of bed and in their large kitchen. He could already smell the enticing aroma of cooked rice and fried eggs filling the air.

"Honey," she called out in a warm and inviting tone, "breakfast is ready."

"Not now," he grumbled, slumping back against his pillow. "I can't think of food when I'm plagued with the thoughts of how I'll endure another day with that insufferable successor to lord Hiromu."

The wife's laughter punctuated the room, mingling with the scent of breakfast.

"You can't go through work forever talking ill about lord Belfort, dear," she said. "He's going to be the feudal lord of our nation one day. And you must admit, some of the changes he's implemented have proven beneficial."

"Beneficial?" he retorted, finally rising to a sitting position. "You mean to say that because of him, the country is less of a mess?" That's not an endorsement; it just speaks to the barely-functioning machinery that he refers to as governance."

"Come, eat something. You'll feel better," she suggested with a gentle concern.

"I'll feel better when I'm free from all this," he replied, pulling himself up from the bed with a reluctant groan. "One day, I'll overthrow that John and take the title of feudal lord for myself. They'll see."

"Now, hold on," she cautioned, her hands on her hips. On top of having neglected to identify their lord by his title, he even stated that he would overthrow the current lord's successor. "Are you serious? You've been saying that for months now. What makes you think it will happen?"

"I have my reasons," he snapped, his frustration clearly showing now. "More than a few trade ships have gone missing at sea under his watch. And don't forget, he lacks proper citizenship. None of this is legally binding! He's an imposter playing at lordship, and this is the biggest scandal in my country."

The wife's eyes widened in disbelief as she said, "Dear, you can't be involved in those types of schemes! You know how dangerous it can be."

"It's easy to say when you're not the one pouring over all the contracts and documents. I have enough dirt on the guy to bury him six feet deep. If only the others knew. But they will. Oh, trust me, they'll know one day!"

"Saying things like that won't help," she admonished gently. She often played the rational one in their household. "Besides, I'd prefer to keep politics out of our lives. Let lord Belfort manage his own mess."

"Next week, I can guarantee I'll have enough evidence to bring him down," he muttered defiantly, slinking into a pair of worn shoes. "And when I do, I'll use it."

His wife let out a soft sigh, worry creasing her brow as they shared breakfast quietly.

After half-hearted bites and minimal conversation, he left their home, mind swirling with thoughts as he readied himself for the day's undertakings under John Belfort's regime.

Approaching the Ministry of Affairs, his coworkers greeted him respectfully, their demeanour stately and careful. The buzz of admiration for John was palpable; every day, the political parties were always talking about him.

"Hasn't lord Belfort really outdone himself with the infrastructure changes?" one co-worker gleefully remarked to the man.

The secretary-general forced a smile but felt a rage bubble beneath his calm facade. Shaking his head, he replied, "He's doing the bare minimum, in my estimation."

"Still, I've heard wonderful things about the recent investments in the villages," another colleague responded, blatantly ignoring the secretary-general's cynical tone.

"Alright, alright," he finally said, storming into his office.

The quiet room reflected the tension erupting within him. He shuffled through the correspondence that filled his desk, ultimately setting his sights on the detailed itinerary laid out by his personal assistant.

As he was doing so, his assistant first knocked, then entered the room without waiting for his reply.

"You're scheduled to leave for the Mist Village to assess military strength," she reminded him, smoothing her skirts as she approached with a faint smile.

"Yes, yes. I know," he sighed. "When do we leave?"

"We'll take the conveyance once the afternoon council meeting is finished," she answered. "You should consider preparing your mind for the trip. It'll be a long day."

He grunted in acknowledgment, but a knot twisted in his stomach as he donned his cloak.

"Fine," he said, "but make sure my room's topnotch. Last time I went to that crazy village, I kept hearing screams out my window."

This trip brought him only a few hours away from John and the incessant praises he'd be hearing.

Upon reaching the Mist Village in a fancy black carriage, he stepped down and was escorted by a cadre of guards. At the entrance stood Mei Terumi, the Mizukage herself, and an expectant smile adorned her face.

Mei, as the current fifth Mizukage, was known to have a multifaceted personality with a blend of strength, kindness, and a touch of flirtatiousness when she wasn't wearing her Kage gear.

On the surface, she is a gentle and approachable leader. She cares deeply about the welfare of her village and its citizens, and she's always willing to listen to others.

In the original story, her interactions with Gaara, the Kazekage at the time, demonstrated her open-mindedness and respect for different perspectives. She's also known for her kind and encouraging nature, often offering words of support to those around her.

However, beneath her friendly demeanour lies a fierce kunoichi. As the Mizukage, she possesses exceptional strength and combat skills. Her first Kekkei Genkai grants her control over acidic substances, allowing her to unleash devastating attacks.

Despite her powerful abilities, she remains humble and grounded, recognizing the limitations of her power and the importance of teamwork.

In terms of her playful and flirtatious side, she enjoys teasing others and isn't afraid to express her admiration for attractive individuals. However, this doesn't detract from her professionalism or her ability to lead effectively.

In essence, Mei is a complex character who embodies some of the best qualities of a leader: strength, compassion, and a commitment to the well-being of those that reside in her village—hence why she's also a memorable figure in the Naruto universe.

"Welcome, secretary-general!" she greeted, her stance poised as she approached. "I hope your journey was pleasant."

"Completely uneventful," he replied without the slightest hint of warmth. His mind was fixating on the celebrations of John and his so-called transformative "leadership."

As they walked side by side towards her office, Mei wasted no time and said, "Have you heard how lord John's recent investments have turned around the village's economy? We've seen a notable influx in trade and resources—it's all very assuring."

"Please," he muttered while suppressing his disdain, "spare me the details."

Not many were allowed to talk in such a manner in front of the Mizukage. Had it not been for the fact that he outranked her, he might not have spoken ill about her comment.

Mei's eyes narrowed, and she paused, assessing him closely. She then asked, "Is there some animosity between you and lord John, by any chance? You are aware I'd rather not get entangled in your political grudges?"

"Much like my wife," he shot back, the words escaping before he could think.

"Excuse me?" Mei arched an eyebrow, surprise evident on her face.

"You're sounding rather like my wife at the moment. Always trying to maintain the peace."

Mei chuckled, crossing her arms as she said, "Is that a compliment or an offense?"

"Quite frankly, I can't tell," he replied. Her laughter forced a smile against his will.

"Just so you know, it's 'lord John' in every conversation," she said, trying to maintain objectivity. "Whether we like it or not, I find it tedious if we don't refer to him formally even when he's not here."

The secretary-general understood the undertone of humour between them, as well as the respect John had earned with the Mizukage.

Eventually, the meeting wrapped up in her office, and the discussion focused heavily on John's strategies and plans. Exhausted, the secretary-general politely excused himself, opting not to travel back that night, given the darkening sky.

He checked into a lavish hotel under the pleasantries of the town's hosts, content that his room was on the highest floor.

He rifled through the documents he had amassed over months, crafting a foolproof plan—one that would position him to become the rightful successor to the country.

Stacks of paper littered his writing desk, along with a quill stained with ink.

With the ere silence, something caught his attention—a strange, mysterious feeling that he couldn't quite place. It was all too familiar. Before he could process it, he heard a sound behind him, revealing an unexpected figure.

"John?!" he gasped, heart racing as the imposing figure walked along his room, unfazed and unbothered.

"Nice room your assistant booked you," the lord coolly remarked. He had a very calm arrogance in his demeanour which turned the room cold.

"What are you doing here?" the secretary-general barked, panic rising within him. "No—how did you even get in here?! This is a private room!"

"I know," the lord replied with a smooth tone. "And while you've been plotting, I've been privy to your intentions for a few days now."

Despite the chill settling in the secretary-general's bones, he concocted a facade of bravado and asked, "What do you mean, 'privy'? You think you can intimidate me?"

"Intimidation is hardly my style to someone who can't address me properly… I simply believed you'd appreciate a warning." His lordship leaned against the wall, an air of indifference enveloping him. "You might want to keep your plans for my 'overthrow' more discreet."

The weight of the truth struck the secretary-general like a dagger; fear roiled within his chest, but he struggled to maintain his composure.

"You're lying! You wouldn't know a thing about me or what I've done for my country!"

"Don't you mean 'our' country?" the lord calmly corrected, shaking his head ever so slightly. "You think I wasn't aware of my own forged birth certificate? You must take me for a fool; I know things about both this country and this world that your digital mind can't even bear to comprehend."

Suddenly, a curtain of darkness filled the secretary-general's vision. As his lordship turned to leave, he felt the whole room constrict around him as if the light itself faded into soft shadows.

The next day.

After that unsettling encounter, the secretary-general found himself at home, sitting across from his wife at their modest dining table. The sun poured in through the window, making the place seem more alive than ever.

"Can't believe I ever doubted him," he announced, shaking his head as he sought to piece together the events of the previous evening. "John, I mean lord John... He's not what I thought. He's... capable, intelligent, and insightful beyond his years."

His wife paused mid-bite, a gleam of surprise in her eyes as she asked, "You're changing your stance?"

"I was wrong about him!" he declared. "He's the only successor this country needs. His vision is what we should pursue, not this pointless entanglement in my cravings for political power."

"I'd say you were placed under an illusion of sorts," his wife teased lightly.

"All the backdoor dealings and petty grievances—resolving them isn't worth it," he confessed, shaking away the complexity of ambition. "It's time I looked forward instead of backward."

With a sigh of relief, his wife looked at him not as the disgruntled bureaucrat but rather as the husband she adored.

"I'm glad to finally hear this," she said tentatively. "I was worried you'd get lost in your work."

"I can't be the obstacle to a promising future—with lord John at the helm," he replied.

"That's good to know, honey, but I am puzzled at something: what did you do with all that evidence you talked about?"

"Get this," he laughed, "there was a mysterious fire in my hotel room, and they were all lost. Just another sign that I shouldn't have gone through with my plan."

"Well, the positive thing is that you're safe."

As they shared laughter and warmth, the air lightened. Perhaps they could enjoy this change in their home. The world outside was wild and daunting, but for now, they lingered in this quiet sanctuary of dreams fulfilled, knowing that their country was thriving in the hands of lord John Belfort.


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