Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 656: Wives, Not Ornaments

Wives, Not Ornaments

His palm brushed across his forehead, clearing the dampness. A slow breath followed as he squinted ahead. Heat clung to his skin like a second layer. Dust swirled just above the cracked ground. The sun held its place, fixed and heavy in the sky.

Faint lines curled at one corner of the mouth.

"What else would I be doing? Except training in the morning."

Ronan chuckled softly.

"As expected."

A slight tilt came to Leon’s head. He moved it just a bit to one side.

"What do you think, Lord Ronan, about my sword practice?"

A crack ran through the stone Ronan looked at. It held his attention without a word spoken.

The embedded blade.

Leon’s trembling hands.

Then smiled.

"I think you’re insane."

Leon snorted. "Fair."

For a short while, they just stayed there without speaking. Quiet filled the space between them.

A soft sound came from the spring close by.

Leaves whispered.

Birds chirped.

A peaceful place.

Foot by foot, bones beneath stone. History soaked deep underfoot.

Facing Ronan now, Leon shifted his whole body.

"So," he said, voice rough, "what brings you here today? Any matter which I need this morning for you to come?"

A small edge crept into Ronan’s grin.

"Always sharp."

His face shifted to something heavier. A quietness settled where a smile had been moments before.

"And yes, Your Majesty. This concerns something you need to address."

A slight lift of Leon’s eyebrow broke the stillness.

"Oh? Speak."

His fingers locked together at the small of his spine.

"As you know, our court currently lacks ministers in nearly all areas."

A flicker of caution crossed Leon’s face, his gaze tightening just a touch.

"The previous court under King Gary was riddled with corruption," Ronan continued. "After investigation, we found most ministers had... unclean backgrounds."

Leon nodded.

"They were removed... right? Because I don’t want any rat who thrived on corruption cheese."

"Yes," Ronan agreed. "They were all executed, imprisoned, or stripped of position."

"We purged them," Ronan continued. "Which was necessary."

He gave a small nod, staying silent.

Ronan continued carefully. "This has left every ministry vacant."

Leon exhaled slowly.

"It is not that I cannot handle matters. I do."

One corner of Leon’s brow lifted slightly.

Ronan sighed.

"But a kingdom cannot be governed by one minister."

Leon fell silent.

Ronan pressed on.

"As we rebuild, every sector requires leadership. Oversight. Coordination."

"Our treasury, logistics, agriculture, infrastructure, law, and foreign affairs are all currently operating under temporary military oversight."

"We need to fill these vacancies as soon as possible."

A look from Leon landed on him, clear and unblinking, almost like a question hanging in silence

What exactly do you mean?

Ronan coughed lightly.

"It’s not that I don’t handle matters," Ronan said. "I do."

Leon snorted softly.

"I know."

"But even with Commander Black, Vice Commander Johny, and myself," Ronan said, "we are stretching thin."

A hand pressed slow against Leon’s forehead. The skin there felt tight.

"As a new kingdom, every system needs rebuilding."

His gaze locked onto Leon’s. The room stilled. A breath passed between them.

"One man does not suffice."

Leon stared at the embedded sword.

"Even with your support, I cannot cover everything."

His fingers slid into tangled strands, damp from heat. A slow drag upward broke the mess apart.

"I know what you’re implying."

Ronan waited.

Leon exhaled slowly.

"Don’t worry."

A flicker of surprise lifted one eyebrow on Ronan’s face.

"We will fill the ministries soon."

Ronan’s eyes sharpened.

"When?"

His eyes met Leon’s. A pause hung between them.

"When Natasha returns," Leon said. "With my wives. And the people from Silver City."

Ronan blinked.

"Your Majesty?"

Leon’s lips curved.

"You heard me."

Ronan hesitated.

"Yes... but How does that solve the minister problem?"

Fog lifted behind his eyes. Stillness settled where words had been. A quiet took shape in the space between breaths.

Not cold.

Not distant.

Yet his attention sharpened, causing Ronan to stand taller without thinking.

"I don’t trust outsiders yet."

Ronan stiffened slightly.

His eyes stayed fixed ahead.

"We are weak in structure. Weak in foundation. This is exactly when infiltration happens."

A silence sat behind each syllable, as if he’d lived ten lives before this moment. The pace never slipped, held tight by someone used to thinking ahead.

Ronan nodded slowly. "Yes, you’re right, Your Majesty. The kingdom is still fragile."

"Exactly," Leon said. "So I’ve decided..."

He paused.

Not for effect.

Not for drama.

Born of nothing more than having arrived at an answer.

"I will place my wives in minister positions."

Silence.

Silence filled the space instead of clumsy words.

Relax. This isn’t that type of quiet.

A hush falls deep inside it. Silence pools where noise should be. What vanishes there never echoes back. Quiet so thick it blocks everything out.

Ronan stared at Leon.

"What?"

Leon smiled.

Not teasing.

Not amused.

Not playful.

Certain.

Quietly, Leon held his gaze without looking away.

"They are intelligent."

Ronan’s mouth opened.

"They are loyal," Leon said.

Ronan closed it.

"They have proven themselves in battle, politics, logistics, and survival. They’ve managed territories, organizations, and forces."

Each sentence landed like a quiet hammer.

Leon continued evenly.

"I trust them with my life."

Ronan felt his sense of reality wobble.

"You... Your Majesty... you mean..."

A gasp slipped out before he could stop it. His lips parted like they had a mind of their own.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

He bowed his head slightly. "Your Majesty," he said.

"Each of them will oversee a ministry."

Ronan’s thoughts detonated.

Wives.

Plural.

Each one - could they really be a minister?

Into silence fell every plan, each forecast, all those tangled schemes Ronan had built. Noise swallowed them whole.

A quiet breath slipped out while he pressed at the space between his eyes, like steady hands could rearrange what felt scattered inside. The weight of it settled through silence.

"This is - "

Funny how still he stayed, just watching Ronan from the corner of his eye. A small shift in posture gave him away - interest peeking through silence. Not a word left his mouth, yet everything leaned forward.

"Problem?"

Simple, that word. Nearly childlike in its sound.

Ronan swallowed.

"...You intend to place the royal harem in charge of the kingdom’s ministries?"

Frozen still, Leon’s face showed nothing at all.

"My queens," he corrected calmly. "They are not show piece but my wives lord Ronan"

Falling heavy, the words hit hard.

Not concubines.

Not ornaments.

Not political accessories.

Queens.

Ronan’s mind stalled.

Last week marked something unseen since the 1980s

A whisper stuck in the minister’s throat, empire climbing behind his silence.

His mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

A shadow crossed Leon’s face as he stood there, fingers relaxed by his legs, a quiet spark dancing in his stare - not quite laughter, more like watching a step toward empty air.

Ronan got it out at last - this... this was...

Leon smiled.

Funny word, he thought, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Unorthodox?"

Ronan exhaled.

"That is a polite word for it."

Leon shrugged.

"They are more qualified than most nobles ever were."

That left Ronan with nothing to say.

Leon added, "And unlike nobles, my wives won’t betray me."

His eyes met Leon’s across the room. Staring, Ronan kept still. A moment passed between them. Then nothing changed.

His eyes held mine longer than expected. A pause settled between us, heavy yet quiet. Then he turned slightly away.

Not as king.

Not as conqueror.

Once, I was someone who had nothing left.

Fighting back harder every time it stumbled.

His fingers eased downward, inch by inch. A quiet pause settled as the movement ended near his side.

"...Your Majesty," he said carefully, "do they know this?"