A solitary voice thundered in the Assembly Hall, and that surely got the attention of the representatives and ministers.

“Let me dial it right up to a ten! Dalreida hangs into balance as we speak, ladies and gentlemen. Our recent past has shown us how violent our elections can be, and a great majority of Dalreida cannot even cast a ballot!”

“Now hold that thought, Arton,” Assemblywoman Metrica protested, “How can you say that Dalreida wouldn’t be a mobocracy when you let the poor and uneducated people to vote? Remember the disastrous ascension of Turelo!”

The reforms of Magistrate Rodrik Turelo included the granting of voting rights to all citizens of Dalreida, regardless of race, religion, socioeconomic class, educational attainment, and related distinctions. Turelo used his populist image as an advantage to help his election as dictator, setting the possible precedent for future magistrates who cannot secure a reelection through the Assembly. However, the Assembly cut short Turelo’s ambitions through legal loopholes.

“Of course, Honorable Assemblywoman,” Arton responded, “But if Turelo taught us anything about an elite electorate, it’s that even they can produce a similar tragedy in Crespos Milios!”

“Shut it you upstart…!”

Arton pointed at Metrica from the podium, “Speak for yourself, Metrica! Your behavior in the Assembly is so notorious, what’s your difference from a wrecked engine?!”

With no scroll in sight, Metrica hastily grabbed one of her shoes and lobbed it against the Assembly Vice President. Unfortunately for her, Arton’s reflexes allowed him to easily catch the gleaming shoe, and with that catch, he absorbed the force Metrica exerted on her throw.

“This is the symbol of our decadence! You lot, you dare look down on the needy while wallowing in money. Is this republic supposedly the world’s best? I suppose not,” he declared, “More than wasting our money on countless elections, how about investing on our people once in a while?! Look at Dalreida, living off the fat of the provinces such as Kamui!”

As the humiliated Metrica seated, glaring with all her wrath at her troubled boyfriend, their political ally Perolus rose up for the challenge.

“Honorable Vice President,” Perolus spoke with such class that it definitely contrasts with that of Metrica, “I believe you’re stepping out of bounds there. It’s Lord Piso’s countless campaigns that bled Dalreidan treasury down to its capillaries. With military expenses mounting, surely you can’t expect us to hike public spending elsewhere. At least, not at this moment…”

The dictator remained silent, but hidden in his podium, he uncomfortably clutched the cane with both of his hands.

“Granted,” Arton said, “But our constitution clearly states that the Assembly gives Dalreida legal reason to start a war. If you in the majority believes that Lord Piso’s campaigns have gone too far, why not stop him?”

“B-because he’s… He’s the dictator! Right on,” Perolus nervously answered as his initial composure began to fade and his golden hair collapse under pressure.

“Wrong, Perolus! Your sheer ignorance of the laws makes me wonder! You politicians believe in the profitability of war, but most of you aren’t in the frontlines! It’s us soldiers who bleed for this nation, and rightly so. We still do until now, but the booty we get are rarely enough for retirement. It’s all because of you slugs! This Assembly is rotten and corrupt to the core!”

“Oh no, you don’t, young man! You’re an Assemblyman, too. If you say we’re corrupt, then you’re included. Do you accept that judgment at all?”

“If damaging my reputation is the cost of exposing your ills, then the price is irrelevant!”

“Leave the politics to us, young man. Look around you. The people are satisfied, and that’s fine. You soldiers stay on what you do best, and that’s to fight our wars for the glory of Dalreida!”

“Our elections are also wars on its own. Now, if you’re done with your delaying tactics, let me present the proposition.”

“Honorable President, surely you wouldn’t…”

Nepos motioned his hand, and Perolus immediately understood the gesture.

After Perolus took his seat, Nepos said, “You may continue…”

“Thank you, Honorable President,” Arton said with a bow.

He rose and continued, “I propose the extension of our terms, while at the same time introducing term limits.”

Nepos asked, “Term… limits? What’s that?”

“Simply, it meant putting a cap on how many terms an Assembly member can serve.”

“I see. But we’ve never had such limits before.”

“Exactly, Honorable President. That’s why my proposal has a counterbalance in consideration of the Assembly’s interests. A two-year term is too short for any of us, especially when we have to campaign and count votes for half that time. Therefore, we must extend this to four years, and then place a term limit of two terms.”

“That’d be eight years in total, then?”

“Yes, Honorable President. Not bad enough, don’t you think?”

“Many of us are incumbents, yourself included. What do you plan for this issue?”

“Don’t worry. If the Assembly approves this, the election would take place four years from the last election. That’s three years from now. Incumbents would retain their positions until then. But…”

“What is it?”

“If the incumbent has reached or exceeded his or her eighth year by the time of the next election, said incumbent can’t run for reelection.”

“Hmm. Fair enough. What then about Lord Piso’s succession?”

Arton hid his surprise, but the oppositionists can be found baffled about the Assembly President’s response. Most of the representatives in the Assembly have already exceeded eight years in service, including Nepos himself.

“As our law states, Piso can definitely run for reelection this year. The problem lies next year.”

“That’s correct. What then about Lord Piso’s succession, Honorable Vice President?”

Arton shot a quick glance at Nepos, and then to the Assembly, and lastly to Piso. After that, he took a deep breath, and he spoke with the same intensity as his entire speech so far.

“Skip Lord Piso’s reelection, and let the dictator decide on his succession…”

“Preposterous! Is this a repeat of Crespos Milios…?”

“President Nepos, if I may!”

Nepos extended his right hand to portray his permission for Arton to continue.

“Lord Piso, how do you plan to undertake your succession?”

The dictator’s face lacked emotion, but rage can be seen in Nepos even as he tried to contain it. If Piso made a deal with the opposition, it can still endanger the super majority Nepos has built in the Assembly due to the sheer influence of the dictator in the pulse of the public.

“So, it has come to this,” Piso calmly responded while still seated, “We’re just a short time in and you already want to climax? You’re all still young though.”

“Whatever do you mean, Lord Piso?”

“I’d have preferred if you don’t pass the play to me, but if you insist… The key to it is myself.”

“An endorsement?”

“Are elections all you’ve in mind? No, I propose a meritocracy.”

“Meri-what?”

“Think of it as a point system. In order for a soldier to be promoted, you gain the merit of your commander. In this case, your commander is me, and your battlefield is the entire country.”

“What a conceited notion! What makes you think you’re qualified to make that decision? Is this really just another attempt at dynasty?”

“Hmph! Do you think your elections are any fairer? You said it yourself. Who gets to elect? Who gets to be elected? But in terms of merit and fitness, all begin at square zero. Anyone can rise from the ranks just like me, no holds barred… Alright, then. Here’s a deal for you.”

“A deal?”

“Of course. Surely everyone here thinks, ‘What’s in it for me?’ And that’s a normal response. I say, your proposition is good as long as you allow me to conduct the succession peacefully.”

“W-wait… you mean?”

“It’s a package deal. Ready your horses! Let the race for the next dictator begin!”

At that moment, Nepos and Arton, the Assembly's top men, seemed to be one in thought as they said in their minds, “But when the time comes, the dynamics would’ve been radically different!”

Meanwhile, the representatives and the ministers stood up in awe. Initially, they gaped as they absorb the dictator’s words, but then, an ovation emanated from them.

Dictator! It sure had a nice ring to it, especially for those who have been crazed by power, and Piso himself was a personification of how powerful the position had become ever since the republic was founded. Piso’s deal is even sweeter than an endorsement in the next election. Dalreida’s love for their dictator is at high pitch. Anyone who would succeed Piso shall be at the top of the world, literally and figuratively.

As expected, the session went smoothly, even for the oppositionist Arton’s proposal, a rare sight for a minority in the Assembly. Soon enough, it was over. The deal is on the go.

After the representatives left the Assembly, Piso’s ministers flocked to the dictator.

“My lord,” Retini opened, “Do you really mean it? Even we in the career executive service can be your successor?”

Without looking at his minister, Piso answered, “Why of course, my son. This is free for all.”

Another minister, Kokitel, followed up, “My lord, I can’t overstate how this brought hope for all of our civil servants! Even for the private citizens! Never had this been done in our history…”

“Yes. But for now, let’s get to work. You shouldn’t keep the people waiting.”

Piso’s ministers worked double time, if not triple time, to try to please their dictator, but Piso himself seemed to be ignoring the increased attention. As he stepped out of the Assembly Hall, the afternoon sky shined a somewhat nostalgic glow in the landscape, and behold thousands of people have crowded the plaza facing the Assembly.

News of Piso’s deal came out even before the session ended, both by radio and print, but it was a brewing response that Piso himself did not seem to expect at all. Even if his guards desperately tried to make a path for Piso, the crowds already filled the Assembly’s steps to express their jubilation, and many even try to make an impression in hopes of being included in Piso’s consideration for succession. Piso himself is more than happy to accommodate as he continually shook hands, had his photographs taken, and blessed in Ieso’s name.

Deep in the sea of people rampaging towards the dictator, there was a young woman clad in clothes which stood out for its peculiarity. She is wearing a blazer covering a shirt, as well as jeans and flat shoes. Compared to the crowds wearing tunics, togas, trousers, and similar clothing, she appears to have come out of nowhere, and as for her, she has no clue of what is happening.

“Um, excuse me…,” she said while desperately trying to make sense out of her confusion, “Excusez-moi? I beg your pardon? What’s happening?”

But to no avail. She just got pushed and pulled by the people in the plaza, to the point of her being hurt because of all the commotion. This caused her to collapse, and soon enough, tears began rolling on her cheeks. Just then, she heard a gentle voice amidst the deafening noises.

“Who are you? Why are you here?”

She weakly responded, “I… I don’t know… T-there was light… And dark… And now, I’m here…”

“Come with me, my lady. This is no place for you yet.”

“W-where will you be taking me? I… Who…?”

Even before she could utter another word, a strong pull raised her up from her collapsed state and when she came into a realization, a masked man wearing a red hood was carrying her to a carriage beyond the plaza.

“W-wait… My… No…”

“Don’t worry, my lady. You’re safe with us.”

Evening fell when the carriage manages to leave the capital city. Beneath the cloudy skies, where the moon and the stars periodically appear in sight, and overlooking Dalreida’s heart come to life with her lights, the young woman has recovered enough to wake up. As her eyes opened, she finds herself alone in the carriage which just stopped.

Then, the door creaked. What happened to her? Did they do something without her consent? She prepared for the worst. When the door opened, it revealed the presence of the masked man, but instead of warm gratitude, she gave him a cold smack at the face. This made his mask fly away.

“By Cashera! What’s that for?! I mean, my lady?”

She blushed at the sight of his handsome face. For her, it feels like it is the first good thing she has experienced on this day. Then again, this was not evident because of the dim light.

“Forgive me, my lady,” the man continued, “But I’m here to return your bag.”

“Oh… Is that so,” she said, “Why, thank you. Sorry I’ve been rude. Like, you just saved me and all…”

“No, my lady,” he said after a bow, “I’m here to serve.”

“Uh, yeah, maybe you could start serving now…?”

“Serve what?”

“Um… you know… it’s dark and all that mood…”

He frowned a bit, “I don’t understand, my lady?”

“F-forget it,” she said with a nervous giggle, “I thought that you, well, you know…”

“You want to know what I know?”

Feeling humiliated, she answered with a sigh, “Fine…”

He looked around, and then said, “If you wish, my lady. Would you like to step out a bit? The carriage may not be comfortable just now. You can leave your bag inside.”

The man thought she was sweating because of the lack of ventilation, but he could have not been more wrong. He stretched out his hand, and she held him as she exited the carriage. Overlooking the capital, the man began to spoke as he wiped his mask.

“A week ago, the Order of Cashera received a revelation that our goddess’s avatar would reappear in Dalreida, but the mission to find her must be top secret. So, I was put to the task.”

“Wait, wait, wait… Cashera? Dalreida? Is this a joke? Where am I? Is this yet another isekai?”

“No jokes, my lady. The Secret Order is right, and the goddess herself has led me to you!”

It struck her. She is not in the world she once knew.

“A-and you think I’m the…”

“Yes. The avatar of Cashera, our goddess.”

“Well… I may have the looks of a goddess but…”

“My lady, you’re our only hope… For years, Dalreida has ruled our island with an iron fist. With our goddess, we can now turn the tables against them.”

He put back his mask, and then held her one hand with both of his.

“Lady Cashera,” he said with a somewhat different tone.

“Uh… That’s not really my name…,” she softly muttered as she blushed again when she felt the man’s rough yet sturdy hands.

“Thank you for coming to us… Our people has waited for so long, my lady. I know I do, so please, if you permit… Please let me take you…”

“T-take me where…?”

“To our home.”

For her, it sure sounded like an unsolicited proposal from a man she just met, and so she gave a slight nod in hopes of giving a hint of hesitation. However, he only meant taking her to Cashera’s island, the home of her people. Still, her approval is enough for him.

“Y-yeah, sure… But would you…”

“What is it, my lady?”

“You wouldn’t like to join me in the carriage now, do you?”

The man was taken aback, causing him to remove his hands. And then, he bowed on his knees.

“My lady! Your radiant presence might melt me to the core!”

“Oh, sheesh. Don’t be so formal. Besides, I’d want someone looking after me while we go.”

She held him up, and then they entered her carriage.

“My lady…”

“Hmm? You’re not crying now, are you?”

He did not respond, but he also cannot keep his nose from betraying his current feelings. As the young woman begins her most unusual quest, Piso’s plan for succession has already begun.

Who will succeed the dictator? How will Dalreida and the world react to his famous gamble? And of course, why did the young woman have that kind of fashion sense in the first place?