Reincarnated with the Country System

The Elysian Islands had never been a place for peace. Not for its people, not for its land. The islands were wild—bitter winds, dry soil, and an oppressive sun that made even the bravest men squint and sweat. But it was home to a different kind of wealth—hidden beneath the earth, waiting to be unearthed by the kind of men who didn't mind getting their hands dirty.

The Bernard Empire, driven by its insatiable hunger for oil, had made its move. The recent discovery of the oil fields at Site Alpha-7 had shaken the region to its core. Word spread fast—fast enough to bring the vultures down from the hills.

Local lords, each a petty king in their own right, had long claimed dominion over the land and its resources, but now, they were being told they had no say in the matter. Not anymore. Not when the Empire had their greedy hands on what was about to be the biggest oil deposit the world had seen in decades.

Joseph stood at the edge of the camp, watching as his men began unloading crates of supplies. They weren't the first to arrive in the Elysian Islands, but they were the most significant. Their mission wasn't to make friends—it was to secure a future, and Joseph was prepared to do whatever it took to make sure the Empire's hold on this land remained as ironclad as the drills tearing into the earth.

The local lords, some with their weather-beaten faces and others with their youthful arrogance, were gathering just outside the camp's perimeter. They had been summoned—told they had no choice but to meet with Joseph. They knew the drill. The Empire didn't ask. It told.

Joseph stood tall, his hands clasped behind his back. His voice carried authority—sharp, calculated, but with a softness that could make even the fiercest men lean in closer.

After Britannia Kingdom became a vassal of Bernard Empire, Alberto gave him the responsibility of this entire region. That is, he was now the governor here, the highest official of Bernard Empire in Britannia.

"This is not a negotiation," he said, his eyes cold as ice as they swept across the assembled lords. "This is a reminder."

The men before him shifted, the faintest glint of annoyance flickering behind their eyes. Some of them were well-dressed, their tunics rich with embroidery, gold-threaded insignias signifying their high rank. Others looked like they had just rolled out of the dirt, their clothes patchy and unkempt. But all of them had the same thing in common: a burning desire to hold on to what they believed was theirs.

Joseph didn't blink. "You are vassals of the Bernard Empire," he said. The words hung in the air like smoke, thick and suffocating. "Your lands, your people, your resources—they all belong to the Empire now. You can play at being kings all you like, but when the Empire wants something, it takes it. And what we want... is the oil beneath your feet."

The lords grumbled. A few even cursed under their breath. But Joseph knew how to deal with men like these. He'd handled more unruly lords than he could count, from the lush jungles of the far south to the frigid northern territories. They all followed the same script—greed, pride, resistance. But there was one thing they understood better than anything else: power.

Joseph's voice cut through the noise. "You've been told this already, but I'll repeat it: the Empire owns your land. The Empire owns your oil. You're not in control anymore. But I've come to make sure we don't have any... misunderstandings in the future."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small pouch, his fingers nimble as he untied the string and poured a handful of gold coins onto the ground in front of the lords. They clinked together, their sound sharp against the harsh silence.

"These are for you," Joseph said, his voice silky but firm. "A gift, if you will, to ensure your cooperation. I don't expect trouble from you or your people. But just in case, well... these coins might grease the wheels."

The lords stared down at the gold, their eyes flickering with a mix of avarice and disdain. It was an insult, of course. But it was also an offer they couldn't ignore. Gold was gold. And gold meant power. Joseph knew exactly what they were thinking.

"Don't pretend like you didn't know this day would come," Joseph continued, leaning forward slightly. "The Empire doesn't play games with threats. You can either accept this gift and get on board with the future—or you can keep fighting and watch as we rip this land out from under you. No matter how many men you send, no matter how many arrows you fire, it's over. Your time's up."

The tension was palpable, thick enough to slice through with a knife. The lords looked to each other, some exchanging quiet words, others glaring at Joseph as if daring him to make a move. The youngest of the bunch—a man with sharp features and an eagerness that seemed more dangerous than naive—stepped forward, his voice dripping with venom.

"Do you think we'll just bow down to you, diplomat?" He spat the words out like they were sour. "You bring gold, you make threats, and you think we'll just bend the knee? You've come to our lands. Our homes."

Joseph's eyes flickered, his lips curling into a thin smile. "Correct your mistake boy—I am Governor now" He chuckled softly, the sound low and mocking. "Also, this land doesn't belong to you now. It's ours. And we're offering you a deal: work with us, make it easy on yourselves, and you'll have a place in this new world. Fight us, and you'll be nothing more than dust, blown away by the winds of progress."

Another lord, one with the appearance of a man who had seen more blood than he cared to admit, stepped up. His eyes were hard, but his voice was less certain than the others. "What's in it for us? If we just... accept this, what do we get?"

Joseph straightened, his voice smooth as silk as he spoke the words they all needed to hear. "You get work. Real work. Jobs for your people. Prosperity. You get to be part of something bigger. Because the Empire doesn't just want oil. It wants a future—a future where men like you are useful. A future where your people have a place in it. So we'll offer you jobs. The drilling will need laborers, workers, craftsmen. The refineries, the pipelines, the infrastructure—it all needs people. Your people. All we ask is that you keep the peace and keep your mouths shut."

The lords, sensing a shift in the air, started to murmur among themselves. The youngest lord from earlier clenched his fists, his pride gnawing at him, but even he couldn't deny the logic of it. Gold and power were within their reach. The alternative was more bloodshed, more fighting over scraps, more men dying in a war they couldn't win.

Joseph stepped back, his expression turning colder. "I'll take that as agreement. No more fighting. No more trouble. And when you're ready to accept your new role, you can send word to me. But don't make me repeat myself. The Empire doesn't have patience for fools. The oil is ours. Your future is ours. And if you try to stand in our way... you'll find out just how quickly that future can disappear."

The lords were silent. The gold lay there, glittering in the harsh sun, a reminder of the price they would pay for their cooperation. The youngest lord spat again, but this time, there was no fire in his eyes. There was only the cold, bitter realization that he had just lost. And deep down, they all knew it. The Bernard Empire had won. All they had to do was accept the terms.

Joseph turned his back on them without a second glance. He had made his point. Now, the Empire would get to work. The oil was theirs. And with it, came everything else.

There was no going back.