Chapter 21 : Chapter 21
Chapter 21.
The conspiracy within the Winter City Ministry of Justice never reached the Duke’s residence.
At this moment, the study inside the mansion was brightly illuminated.
Grayson’s eyes were bloodshot, yet his entire body seemed to be in a state of extreme excitement.
Before him lay a massive map of the Northern Territory, densely covered with symbols marked in different colors of ink.
“Your Highness, this is the first draft of the tax reform plan I prepared overnight.”
Grayson’s voice was hoarse, yet it carried a strength that had never been heard before.
He presented a thick stack of parchment to Sylvia.
“According to Professor Logaris West’s theoretical framework, I have divided taxation into three categories: agricultural tax, commercial tax, and asset tax.”
“First, we will drastically reduce the poll tax and the basic agricultural tax. Every farmer and serf will be allowed to keep ninety-five percent of the harvest from their own land.”
The moment these words were spoken, Victor, who was listening from the side, suddenly stopped breathing.
This would shake the very foundation of the Northern Territory that had existed for centuries.
Grayson ignored his reaction and continued.
“Second, the commercial tax. We will establish a fifteen-tier progressive tax rate. From small street vendors in the city to merchant guilds that operate across several provinces, the higher the profit, the higher the tax rate. For giant merchant guilds with annual profits exceeding one hundred thousand Golden Lion Coins, the tax rate will reach fifty percent.”
Victor inhaled sharply.
This was practically forcing those great merchants to the brink of death.
“Third, the land holding tax. If the land under one’s name exceeds a certain amount, the tax rate will increase geometrically for every additional acre, with a maximum rate of sixty percent.”
After Grayson finished speaking, the entire study fell silent enough that a needle could be heard dropping.
This proposal was essentially placing a blade against the necks of every wealthy class.
Sylvia turned the pages one by one.
The light in her silver-gray eyes grew brighter and brighter.
“Good.”
She spoke only a single word.
“Grayson, do you have enough personnel from me?”
“It is sufficient, Your Highness.” Grayson bowed. “They are all trusted subordinates you brought from the royal capital. Their capability and loyalty are beyond question. We have already formed thirty tax inspection teams and can dispatch them to all major cities in the Northern Territory at any time.”
“Then carry it out.” Sylvia returned the plan to him. “Within three days, I want this announcement posted on every public notice board in every city of the Northern Territory.”
“Yes!”
Grayson accepted the order and withdrew with a sense of solemn mission.
The next day, the notice board in Winter City was packed with people.
When the official reader announced the specific implementation plan for the agricultural tax, the crowd first fell into deathly silence.
Then a thunderous wave of cheers erupted.
Countless ragged civilians and farmers fell to their knees, wailing toward the direction of the Duke’s residence.
“Long live Her Highness the Princess!”
“Long live the Winterhold family!”
In stark contrast were the noble stewards and wealthy merchants mixed within the crowd.
As they listened to the new tax laws targeting them one after another, the color slowly drained from their faces until they were as pale as the winter snow of the Northern Territory.
Resist?
The blood of the Marcus family had not yet dried, and the shadows of those steel monsters still wandered through their nightmares.
…
Inside the study of the Winter City mansion, the excitement on Victor’s face had not yet fully faded, yet his brows were already tightly furrowed.
He looked at Sylvia and spoke in a deep voice.
“Your Highness, the tax reform has pacified the hearts of the people, but it has offended every merchant and noble in the Northern Territory. They dare not act now, but secretly…”
“It does not matter.” Sylvia interrupted him.
“A flock of well-fed sheep will always behave for a while after seeing the butcher’s knife.”
Her voice was calm, as if she were discussing something entirely unrelated to herself.
“Grayson.” Sylvia turned to the temporary chief of finance beside her.
“I am here, Your Highness.” Grayson immediately bowed.
“How much in unpaid salaries and death compensation is owed to the Northern Legion?”
Grayson was prepared and immediately reported a precise figure.
“Reporting to Your Highness, since three years ago the Legion has accumulated unpaid salaries totaling two hundred and thirteen thousand Golden Lion Coins. The death compensations that have piled up over the years amount to eighty-nine thousand Golden Lion Coins. The total is three hundred and two thousand Golden Lion Coins.”
Victor’s fists instantly clenched.
Three hundred thousand.
The number struck his heart like a heavy hammer.
The twenty thousand brothers on the eastern front had been resisting the orcs’ attacks for years under conditions where even their military pay could not be issued.
“I will give you three hundred thousand.” Sylvia’s voice was clear and powerful.
“Immediately. At once. Distribute all the unpaid funds in full.”
She paused briefly and added another sentence.
“Allocate another three hundred thousand as an additional reward for all soldiers on the front lines.”
“Your Highness!” Victor suddenly raised his head.
The eyes of this iron-blooded man had actually turned slightly red.
He knew very well what it meant for six hundred thousand Golden Lion Coins to be spent at once.
It meant the entire morale of the Northern Legion would completely belong to one person.
“This is what they deserve.” Sylvia’s tone carried no emotion. “Let them know whom they are fighting for.”
“Yes!” Victor responded heavily and strode away, his steps carrying a determination that had never existed before.
After resolving the most urgent issue of military morale, Sylvia’s gaze fell upon Logaris West, who had been silent in the corner the entire time.
He was leisurely flipping through a book confiscated from the Marcus family’s collection, as if the hundreds of thousands of Golden Lion Coins just discussed were less interesting than a single magical symbol on the page.
“Hey, Logaris.” Sylvia’s voice carried a hint of her usual sarcasm. “Did you come to the Northern Territory just to plunder the nobles’ book collections? If that is the case, I can raid the remaining dozens of families and build you a private library.”
“If you want to ask something, just say it directly.” Logaris replied without even lifting his head as he casually turned a page. “There is no need to go in circles.”
“Oh? Then may I ask the great professor what brilliant idea you have to free me from the fate of being completely broke?” Sylvia crossed her arms and looked at him leisurely.
“Develop industry.” Logaris finally closed the book.
His tone sounded as if he were simply stating a future that was destined to happen.
“Establish an unprecedented industrial district. Mine the ore, smelt it into steel on the spot, and then turn that steel into weapons, farming tools, and machines.”
His description made Grayson in the study feel somewhat unfamiliar.
Factories? The Northern Territory could barely gather a few decent workshops.
Logaris walked to the map and drew a circle over a barren region east of Winter City with his finger.
“I will build an unprecedented industrial city here. I call the plan that will truly secure your throne—the ‘Heart of Winter.’”
Grayson had heard of such things before.
It was said that the kingdom’s powerful rival, the Valeria Empire, already possessed similar structures.
But then the most realistic question appeared.
“Professor… how much will this cost?” Grayson asked carefully.
“Money?” Logaris glanced at him, then turned his gaze to Sylvia.
“That depends on how much our Princess is willing to pay for her throne.”
At that moment, Akash, the captain of the guards, walked in and presented a thick list.
“Your Highness, the assets of the seven great families have all been fully counted.”
Sylvia took the list and scanned through it rapidly.
Real estate, shops, mines, jewelry, antiques, cash…
The final line showing the total estimated value made the corner of her lips curl into a satisfied smile.
Twelve million Golden Lion Coins.
Two million more than Grayson’s preliminary estimate of ten million.
“Well then, grand planner.” Sylvia tossed the list to Logaris.
“Let me make one thing clear first. My money was not blown here by the northern wind.”
Logaris took it and glanced at it only once.
He pulled out two pages and casually threw the thick stack of papers back onto the table as if it were worthless trash.
“These flashy but useless things are not worth mentioning. However, these two pages are somewhat useful.”
He slapped the two sheets onto the map.
They corresponded exactly to the area he had circled earlier.
An iron mine and an accompanying coal mine.
Everything had already been calculated.
“I need startup capital.” Logaris looked at Sylvia and spoke directly.
“How much do you want?”
“Half.”
Logaris spoke two words.
Grayson’s mind buzzed loudly.
Half? That meant six million!
Using six million Golden Lion Coins to build a completely unheard-of “industrial district”?
This was madness.
Yet Sylvia smiled when she heard it.
It was a cold smile filled with scrutiny.
“Half? Logaris West, your appetite is greater than that of a dragon. Are you speaking to your investor or committing robbery?”
“This is the only price to realize your ideal.” Logaris pushed his glasses upward.
The candlelight reflected off the lenses, hiding his eyes.
Sylvia pulled the two land deeds from the list and slapped them against Logaris' chest.
“These two mines count as your technological share. I will give you another five million in cash, along with full authority over this project. I believe in your capability.”
…
That night, Logaris moved into a manor near the mining region he had chosen with Lilith and began drafting his grand industrial blueprint.
Inside the Duke’s residence study, only Sylvia and Grayson remained.
“Grayson.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“From the remaining funds, allocate one million.” Sylvia gazed at the deep night outside the window and spoke softly.
“Establish a fund called the ‘Northern Territory Talent Recruitment Fund.’”
“Talent?” Grayson asked in confusion.
“Yes. Talent.”
The silver-gray eyes of Sylvia flickered with strategic calculation.
“In the royal capital there are many scholars who are frustrated and unrecognized, highly skilled craftsmen, and low-ranking officials who have been marginalized. They have ability, but no opportunity.”
“Use this money to recruit them here.”
“Tell them that the Northern Territory has nothing. But precisely because it has nothing, it holds limitless possibilities. As long as they are willing to come, I will give them status, wealth, and a stage to realize their ambitions.”
Grayson’s heart began pounding violently.
He understood.
The Princess was cutting the firewood from beneath the pot.
She did not only want the Northern Territory’s money and soldiers.
She wanted the kingdom’s people.
“Your subordinate obeys!”
At the same time.
On the eastern frontier where the Northern Territory bordered the Orcish Wilderness stood Blackstone Fortress.
The biting wind swept snowflakes against the fortress walls, producing a mournful howling sound.
An old soldier named Barton crouched behind the battlements, rubbing his frozen red hands.
Several holes had been worn through his armor, and the cotton padding inside had long been rubbed away.
“Damn this cursed weather.”
He muttered under his breath and pulled out half a piece of bread from his chest pocket.
It was as black as stone.
He bit into it forcefully and nearly shattered his teeth.
“Barton, stop complaining. It is already good enough that we have something to eat.”
A young soldier beside him exhaled white breath.
“I heard last month’s military pay could not be issued again. We have not seen a single Copper Sparrow Coin for three months.”
“Cannot be issued?” Barton sneered.
“Those noble lords in Winter City are feasting on fine food and wine. How could they remember us cannon fodder risking our lives at the frontier?”
Several soldiers nearby fell silent.
The atmosphere became heavy and oppressive.
At that moment, a series of hurried footsteps suddenly sounded.
A messenger scrambled onto the fortress wall, almost rolling as he ran.
His cheeks were frozen purple, but his voice had changed pitch from extreme excitement.
“The money has arrived! The money has arrived!”
He shouted with all his strength while running.
“By order of Her Highness the Princess! All unpaid military salaries and compensations will be issued immediately! There is also an additional reward of three hundred thousand Golden Lion Coins! Everyone will receive a share!”
All the soldiers on the wall froze.
The black bread in Barton’s hand fell to the ground, but he did not even notice.
“You… what did you say?”
He grabbed the messenger by the collar, his voice trembling.
“It is true!”
The messenger spoke incoherently in excitement.
“The money has already arrived! The Winterhold family’s crest! The Princess' personal order! Six hundred thousand Golden Lion Coins! Not a single coin missing!”
Silence.
After a brief moment of deathly silence—
“Wooo!!!”
A thunderous cheer exploded from every corner of Blackstone Fortress, rushing straight into the sky and nearly scattering the storm of wind and snow.
Countless soldiers threw away their weapons and embraced each other, jumping and shouting.
Barton, a man in his forties, suddenly squatted down, clutching his head as his shoulders shook violently.
A long-suppressed sob escaped him.
He thought of his fallen brothers.
He thought of the widows and orphans waiting for compensation back in his hometown just to survive.
“Long live Her Highness the Princess!”
Someone shouted first.
The next second, the voices of tens of thousands of soldiers throughout the fortress merged into a single roaring tide.
“Long live Winterhold!”
“Long live Her Highness the Princess!”
The wave of sound, filled with boundless fanaticism and loyalty, crossed the high walls and spread across the frozen wilderness, proclaiming the arrival of a new era.
From this day forward, the Northern Territory would recognize only one master.