Reincarnated with the Country System

The orphanage on Mother's Hill hadn't changed much since Elina last stood before its stone-framed threshold. The structure—a blend of Britannian timber architecture and Bernardian reinforcements—sat atop the rise like a watchful sentinel. The vines still clung stubbornly to its sides, curling around the stone well near the entrance. Its charm remained intact, even as the world around it changed.

The front door opened before she could knock.

"Elina."

Queen Maria stood in the doorway, her silver hair braided in the old style, no crown, only a woolen shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her face looked older than her years, lined with grief and purpose. But her eyes—green and flinty—had not softened. Elina stepped forward without hesitation and embraced her.

"Mother."

Maria held her a moment. "You've grown thinner," she said quietly. "Are they feeding you at that place?"

Elina gave a small laugh. "Too well, actually. But I've been reading more than eating."

Maria raised an eyebrow, amused. "That sounds more like the daughter I remember. Come inside."

Inside, the orphanage was warm and lived-in. Fireplaces glowed softly. Shelves were lined with battered books—some old Britannian tales of dragons and prophecies, others printed with Bernardian educational seals: "Introductory Earth Science," "History of Comparative Civilization," "The Human Brain and Technomagic."

Maria led Elina to a wooden table near the back, where tea had already been steeped.

"You haven't visited in a while," Maria continued gently. "I thought you were gone forever. Or buried in books."

"I almost got lost," Elina admitted. "But I found something. Or maybe… I found a way to ask questions again."

Maria looked at her over the rim of the cup. "You always had too many questions. You should've been a philosopher."

"I wanted to be," Elina said, not without warmth. "You insisted on a princess."

Maria sighed, but her smile was wistful. "And look how that turned out. Queens have short reigns in times like these."

Before Elina could reply, the door banged lightly and one of the older children entered—a lanky boy with soot under his fingernails and a copy of the daily dispatch in his hand.

"Headmistress," he said, offering the newspaper. "It came on the courier."

"Courier dropped this, Headmistress."

"Thank you, Arlen."

Maria unfolded the newspaper. It was printed on thin off-white stock, Bernardian type across the top, with a secondary translation in Britannian glyphs beneath. After Bernard Empire took control of Britannia, they made many reforms. The media was one of them.

Elina leaned in. The article was blunt:

Imperial Office Decrees Seizure of Jimland Territories

Following the breach of treaty terms established post-occupation, Emperor Alberto has authorized the total absorption of the Jimland remnants. The ruling council failed to comply with resource transparency protocols and military limitation clauses. All standing infrastructure will be repurposed under Bernardian administration. New laws have been enacted, including a civil integration code and citizenship evaluation framework. Subversive elements will be subject to Article 7: Cultural Harmonization.

Maria set the paper down. "So. Another country swallowed."

Elina scanned the article again, eyes narrowed. "They broke the terms. Bernard gave them the conditions nine months ago—demilitarize, open records, accept civil oversight."

"And when they didn't, they were absorbed," Maria said. "That's how empires move. Quietly, methodically."

"Strategically, it makes sense," Elina said, then hesitated. "Morally... I don't know yet."

Maria's voice was low. "The morality of an empire is always the last thing it conquers."

There was a pause.

"Maybe that's why I'm going," Elina said.

Maria tilted her head.

"To the Bernardian Space Research Institute," Elina clarified. "They're assembling a team from the university. Cross-discipline scholars. I was chosen." She hesitated, then added: "We leave in four days—train to Java Port, then flown to the Imperial Science Complex."

Maria set the cup down slowly.

"Space research," she repeated. ".... Is that where they're aiming now?"

Elina nodded. "Satellites. Particle arrays. Gravity manipulation. Our professor says we'll be working with experimental fusion drives and even... exoplanet biosimulations."

Maria let out a soft breath, half in awe, half in disbelief. "I remember when you were eight. You wanted to write books about 'why people believe what they believe.' I still have that letter you wrote."

"I wanted to study questions no one could answer," Elina said. "Instead, I spent my teens in court gowns, reciting bloodlines and trade routes."

"I did what I thought was best," Maria said. "To protect you. To make you a great leader."

"I know."

They sat in silence for a time. A log cracked in the fireplace.

"Do you think you're abandoning us again?" Maria asked.

"No," Elina said. "I'm doing what you did. You left a throne to find meaning. I'm leaving the world I knew to find understanding."

Maria stood and walked to the window. Outside, a few of the children ran past, shouting in the fading light. A paper kite caught in the wind, dipping and lifting.

"I don't understand this new world," she admitted. "But I raised a daughter who might."

"That's all any mother can do."

"Change always does both," Elina said. "Like you told me when I was twelve: 'A storm doesn't ask if you're ready. It just comes. The choice is whether to rebuild or retreat.'"

Her mother turned, eyes moist. "I said that?"

"You did. Right before you let me attend the Royal mage academy."

A knock came from the front hall.

"Headmistress," one of the nun called, "Visitor from the Cultural Ministry. Says they have some questions about next month's winter festival permits."

Maria let out a slow breath. "Of course they do."

Elina raised an eyebrow. "Festival permits?"

"They've started reviewing all public gatherings—'for cultural alignment and safety,' they say." Maria's tone carried the weight of resignation. "Even the solstice plays now require script approval."

"..."

Maria then looked to Elina. "Will you stay for dinner?"

"I'd love to. But I'm moderating a panel tonight—science faculty and magical historians. It's a mess, but it might be important."

Maria chuckled faintly. "Go. But write to me this time."

"I will. I promise."