On the Verge of Complete Saturation

"But, Your Grace. May I ask something rude?"

"There's no such thing as rudeness to a guest. What is it?"

Daniela asked cautiously. Before I knew it, she'd finished thoroughly reading volume two of Atlas and had moved on to another novel. The guest room was freezing cold. Daniela, who was still lingering in this office, didn't seem to harbor any doubts. If anything, I wanted to ask if she wasn't uncomfortable here.

"How did you manage to develop the North like this..."

"Hm, I'm not sure what you mean by that."

"I'd heard that the North was just a place with biting cold winds where people devoured each other. I had no idea it had such grand cities and fine roads..."

"It took effort, of course?"

"And all of this was under Your Grace's..."

I nodded. In truth, it was possible only thanks to the help of many people. Daniela surely knew that too. But men always tended to show off a bit in front of a woman.

"It's a long story, but the current situation isn't all that great, anyway."

"Why not?"

"It's complicated. Attending the council meeting in a few days would make it even more so."

Wait, hold on—that might be going too far. Even for a guest, I couldn't reveal all of the North's affairs.

I shook my head. Daniela's eyes, brimming with expectation, hurt to see, but it just wasn't possible.

"It'd be great if I could show you the recent history of the North."

I couldn't explain it directly, which felt a bit off. But one thing was certain: the North was different from before. It was different from a year ago, and from ten years ago. There was a reason for that. It was just... a little now.

"When I can explain it later, I'll tell you slowly then."

Daniela just stared at me quietly. Was there something wrong?

"This is the first time I've faced Your Grace like this."

"Not as barbaric as you thought, right?"

Daniela waved her hand, saying no. I knew the North's image wasn't great. But I didn't want to be misunderstood. I wanted to show that the North was plenty livable.

Jamuchin and Dorgon returned a few days after Daniela first looked straight at me. They said a few people had come back to the North with Jamuchin. And Jamuchin had brought a letter stamped with the seal of Roland von Bart, head of the Bart family.

"This isn't what I was hoping for, Foreign Minister."

"It is my failing for not properly understanding Your Grace's words."

Jamuchin bowed his head slightly.

The cabinet meeting was held in Winter's Hall. The various ministers and attending nobles stood surrounding the Grand Duke's seat. The Royal Guard stood behind them with stern expressions.

When the letter reached my hands, I confirmed no one had opened it. The envelope bore only the seal of Marquis Roland von Bart.

"A banquet?"

"Yes. I hear it's an event to improve relations with the imperial family."

"And they're inviting me there?"

"Your Grace, it's a standard courtesy. No need to mind it."

I handed the letter back to the Royal Guard. It went into Jamuchin's hands. After receiving it, Jamuchin returned to Dorgon's side.

"What was the Empire really like? Livable?"

Jamuchin and Dorgon exchanged glances. For a moment, they seemed to hesitate over whether to lie to me. Was the disparity that great?

"Your Grace, if I may be bold, the Empire's interior was like a dark underworld."

"A dark underworld?"

"Even more brutal than the North before Your Grace ascended. Starving commoners and nobles full of empty pretense. What I saw was no different from a dark underworld."

Murmurs spread at Dorgon's words. In truth, many who couldn't survive in the South had migrated north, so the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠image they brought was of a warm place. Perhaps they had seen wrong.

I asked again, but Jamuchin's answer was firm.

"Just like a dark underworld."

Jamuchin wouldn't lie here. I looked around. The ministers were murmuring, a fear evident—not of the South, but of the North.

The answer to how the North had developed so much. The one I couldn't give Daniela.

"Hexon, Bildo, and the other ministers. What's the current state of the North?"

Propping my chin, I called the ministers forward. They bowed at the foot of the steps and began unfolding massive stacks of documents. The cover bore the words Northern Economic Scale and Development Research.

They opened the ever-updating file with only precise data.

"The last I heard, it felt like we were maintaining a very precarious balance. Right?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Is there any more room to spend budget internally?"

"None at all."

Hah. The Grand Duke's sigh echoed through Winter's Hall. The nobles who remembered the barren North grasped it immediately. The trap of wealth, the limit of growth.

During the Wintergard Rebellion, my father fought his uncles. Power ignored bloodlines and tormented the people. After Father's final victory, he inherited the Northern Grand Duchy, but the cities were empty, crawling with soldiers and mages, and winter came.

The war was so devastating that truly nothing remained in the cities. Survivors awaited death, corpses frozen solid and left unburied.

To explain how we'd developed: we had to emphasize that we'd started from absolute nothing.

"Post-war manpower enabled the full success of the Central Forge Reactor project. Magic stone output increased, allowing massive resource input into the Central Forge Reactor."

Hexon was right. After the war, reconstruction began. Using my designs and surviving mages' abilities, the Central Forge Reactor was installed in the city center. Countless laborers poured into it.

"Northern residents generated surplus capital beyond production, collected as taxes to fund roads, sewage systems, and various developments."

Wasn't it blissful? Wealth accumulating.

But endlessly piling wealth caused problems. The inflation trap. The exterior stable, interior wealth stacking with nowhere to go. That meant the cycle would collapse.

Northern infrastructure was policy to consume such wealth. On a grand scale, wealth ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had to be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spent continuously. Otherwise, its value ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would drop.

Roads, sewage, schools—these steadily consumed wealth. That was my prediction for the internal market cycle, the effort I'd pursued since ascending.

"If we could maintain that state, it would be ideal, but now there's nowhere left inside the North to spend."

"We can't build grand monuments or new palaces. That wouldn't consume wealth—it would destroy it."

Bildo chimed in. Explosive growth brought explosive side effects.

"If we review new facilities or such?"

"We could shift to new things, but the people won't open their pockets."

"My mistake. This was my mistake."

I'd thought it optimal for Northern reconstruction. Boost production, have the Central Forge Reactor and infrastructure devour money while developing together—an ideal harmony.

But at some point, money consumption and population growth outpaced forecasts wildly. Yet I'd fixated on internal investment. Collect taxes, reinvest. I'd thought the cycle perfect.

"Your Grace, do you recall the balance target planned over twenty years ago?"

"Overall, yes."

"We've exceeded the current balance structure by over 250%."

Economic asphyxiation loomed. Of course, we could slowly wither like the Empire.

Hexon bowed. No one accused him of rudeness. It wasn't blaming the Grand Duke for error. It was demanding what came next.

"Magic stone consumption has plummeted too, and no more internals to..."

"I've decided."

I stood. Descended the steps one by one.

Perhaps the problem was confining ourselves to the North.

If so,

"We have no choice but to break outward."