Two Kinds of Laughter
In the vast interior space, a brass brazier burned steadily in place of a walled-off chimney fireplace. Over the rattling of wooden planks in the unrelenting blizzard outside—no mercy for tears—the soft, varied breathing of huddled orphans sharing body heat mingled with the harsh scratch of quill pens on rough paper.
At the center of the gathered staff reviewing documents in the wide living room stood Eira, her golden roll-bun hairstyle catching the light as she pored over the papers.
"Is the plan progressing well, wayo?"
The former lord's steward answered her question.
"Yes, miss. It's about 90% complete now."
The current lord had favored those with connections to the capital over true talent, driving away the capable vassals Bostain truly needed. With Nautilus's support, Eira had tracked them down and rallied them once more. Though they'd been sidelined under the current regime, their influence and experience hadn't vanished entirely. In fact, the territory's people trusted these powerless but skilled former vassals far more than the current lord's cronies, appointed solely through central ties.
Though she'd joined Suhyun, Eira had stayed in Bostain to execute the plan. With supplies from Daiyen and aid from her grandfather's old retainers, she was steadily expanding her influence.
Once winter's chill deepened and snow blanketed the land, the roads to Bostain would become impassable for carriages. In this territory where farming was all but a pipe dream, most food was imported—and neighboring lords jacked up prices outrageously, knowing that. Rye that cost pennies just beyond the border fetched five times as much here, leaving Bostain's residents scrimping not just to save but to eat their fill.
Eira's gaze turned icy as she thought of her father and elder brothers, who squandered everything in futile bids to break into the capital.
"But is it wise to release grain this cheaply?"
The former steward voiced his concern, but Eira brushed it off casually.
"We've been cautious so far, but even these prices are three times the original, wayo."
"Haven't transport costs gone up?"
The roads to Bostain were treacherous, crawling with dangerous monsters. Few caravans bothered anymore, letting a handful monopolize the grain trade. The previous lord had at least organized his own caravans to stabilize prices, but the current one had sold them off, deeming it uncouth for nobles.
"Don't worry, wayo. The one I serve can transport any amount of food at near-zero cost."
At first, the steward had bristled at rumors that this wasn't even a proper marriage to the old lord's granddaughter—just a concubine-like arrangement. But working with Eira had shifted resentment to admiration. She avenged the previous lord, supplied Bostain with cheap grain, and now guided it back to normalcy, evoking her grandfather's spirit. Gratitude swelled in him. Plus, unlike the current lord who scorned commerce in a region unsuited for self-sufficiency, Nautilus's master embraced trade himself.
Central lords didn't need their own caravans—trade flowed through their lands naturally, balancing prices. Peripheral lords like Bostain's operated them to prevent merchant cartels from strangling their people. Yet central nobles dismissed it as provincial, ignoring the suffering it caused the commons—suffering the current lord complained about only when it cut into his bribes.
Eira sighed at the thought of her father's idiocy.
"It must be about time for the merchants to start whining to big brother, wayo."
Eira's caravans sold at prices based not on Nautilus rates but what she'd buy cheap from neighbors and resell at. Her goal wasn't rock-bottom prices but a level sustainable for other traders too. Still, it squeezed their margins, so they'd skip fair competition for power plays—scurrying to the lord and his heirs like fawning dogs.
Too-cheap grain would make peasants lazy, skipping work. Low prices meant less tax revenue, fewer "gifts" to the lord. Surely such bargains hid defects. Obvious nonsense, but her father and brothers lacked the brains to see it—they'd swallow merchants' words whole and come raging.
"Miss, Marcus is here."
"Speak of the dog and he appears, wayo."
Eira gestured to let him in, and a blond, burly man entered. He looked every inch the northern man, but inside he was a half-baked central noble. Marcus had rushed knighthood via shortcuts—stockpiling mana for qualification to inherit his title—without proper training or family support. Eira eyed him like a bisected cockroach, worse than her properly trained younger brother.
"Eira! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
"Working for the territory's people. If your empty head can't grasp that, it'd make a better toy for the kids to chuck around, wayo."
"For the people? Never mind where you got this sudden grain hoard—who cares? Don't you know it wrecks the market order?!"
Ignoring that the market had collapsed long ago, Eira itched to hurl the inkwell beside her at his flushed, furious face.
"Oh dear, the market order collapsed ages ago—didn't you know, wayo?"
"That's because monsters surged and blizzards worsened—what choice did we have?!"
"Right, since we slack on subjugating them, monsters multiply. Magic realm beasts expand, spreading its climate here. Natural, isn't it?"
As magic realm mana spread, the land chilled, making life harsher. Preceding lords had risked death to push monsters back; her grandfather fell battling a massive polar bear without flinching. Neglect this, and Bostain would become unlivable. The current lord dreamed of escaping to central nobility first—but even if he succeeded, what of the abandoned people?
Eira's eyes hardened at such noble trash, shirking duty for privilege.
"Anyway, raise prices now—or sell to other merchants too. Or I'll tell Father!"
Parroting merchants like a mynah bird without a thought, Marcus stormed out. Eira glared at the door, disgusted. He'd been a sweet simpleton as a child; adulthood amplified only the stupidity.
"Aigoo, quills are scarce in this weather anyway—my mistake, wayo."
Anger had snapped her quill. Sighing, Eira fetched a spare, trimmed the tip, and dipped it in ink. Callused from weapons, ink-stained from pens, her hands worked tirelessly today for the people.
"Then, allow me to explain the plan to seize Bostain territory."
On the bridge, amid Nautilus's executives and Aurelia, Daiyen launched her computer-generated presentation.
"The core of this plan is the previous lord's remains."
Bostain's former lord had perished battling a colossal polar bear. His other children died defending against local monsters, making the current lord's inheritance inevitable—but custom law complicated it.
"The blood kin of the lord who slays his killer inherits."
Before nobility formalized, rulers fought external threats—mostly monsters. Leaders often died in battle; successors proved worth by killing the slayer. Uncodified in imperial law but entrenched in noble custom.
The ambitious current lord claimed he'd finished the wounded bear, gaining imperial and noble council approval.
"Hmm, so he falsified reports to the Empire."
Aurelia frowned distastefully; Daiyen nodded.
"Precisely, Your Highness."
"But that's not enough for severe imperial punishment—'a misunderstanding' would suffice."
"Yes, but the key is: Suhyun slew the monster, commissioned by Eira."
Father falsely claimed vengeance; fresh academy grad granddaughter commissions true avenger for reward. Unpalatable to the Empire, but romantic fodder for nobles loving tales of drama. Father fakes grandpa's revenge; granddaughter sells herself to avenge it anyway—a saga ripe for theater. Aurelia's interest deepened. This shielded Eira's bold moves—short of outright coup, dethroning, or collaring her father, nobles would overlook much.
"Our goal is simple: Crush the cartels jacking grain prices while undervaluing Bostain goods—Frost Ice Traders, Blue Steel Caravans, Frost Wheat Guild. Purge corrupt vassals, restructure so Bostain runs smoothly without Eira."
"Intriguing. Telling me means you want my help, right?"
"Yes."
"Fine—my friend's affair too. But we'll need some adjustments."
"Command, and we obey."
Soon the executives faded to background as the two plotted eagerly. Suhyun yawned from the captain's chair. Gesturing quietly for awkwardly standing Lucy and Morian to leave, he watched them slip out beaming, then piloted Nautilus, sensing time dragging today.
Nautilus arrived at Bostain stealthily this time. Suhyun, Daiyen, and a few reformed gang members dashed traceless over snow via magic. Pursuing gangsters left prints despite spells, but howling blizzard erased them before three steps. Hiding in the flurry, they reached the back gate and knocked.
"Even in northern blizzards..."
"Bostain warms."
Password exchanged through stone-seamed hidden door; it creaked open cautiously. A grizzled guard in thick furs scanned, shut it softly.
"Follow this path straight—third house on the left."
Passing the nonchalant sentry, they reached the house, knocked. Lattice shutters parted; recognizing Daiyen, the man opened.
"Welcome, Lady Daiyen."
The one-armed dark-brown-haired northerner from the logging camp shut the door, guiding them in. Northern builds stacked double stone walls stuffed with sawdust insulation, using one outer face as a small room to trap central living heat. Notably, rooms nearest the hearth were tiniest, farthest largest—prioritizing warmth for vulnerable: elders, infants.
Passing fur rugs and wall-hangings for insulation and decor, Suhyun entered. Beyond a thin draft-door, warm living room embraced him.
"Welcome, Suhyun-nim, wayo."
Eira rose from amid clustered orphans by the central Warm Hearth Guardian brazier and hearth-cooking, skirt lifted lightly in greeting. Children mimicked her.
"Thanks to your grace, we care for loggers' orphans lost in battle. We offer deep gratitude, wayo."
Addressing not just Suhyun but the kids behind—for their ears—they chorused practiced thanks. Suhyun smiled warmly, a touch embarrassed.
As he played with children, sharing Lucy's Nautilus-baked cookies, Daiyen and Eira discussed progress.
"The princess came personally, wayo?"
"Yes, so securing legitimacy is easier."
"Then no need for that other plan, wayo."
"How prepared was it?"
"Just groundwork—no losses."
Cookies in hand, dazzled by flashy magic, children's laughter filled the room alongside Daiyen and Eira's scheming chuckles over conquering Bostain.