Back to the North: Gold's Leash and Winter's Fears
"Then we'll review the agreement as soon as we arrive in the North and send it back. Does that sound good?"
"No objections, Your Grace!"
"I understand Marquis Roland's feelings, but unfortunately, Daniela is better off staying in the North. You know that, right?"
"We do, Your Grace. Please, just take good care of my daughter..."
"Don't worry. I'll make sure she finds the North even more beautiful than this place."
Right before departing from the Bart family's territory, I exchanged farewells with Marquis Roland von Bart. There was a purpose to it. The negotiations were being handled by the staff anyway, so I figured I'd use the time to let Daniela say her goodbyes. I stepped back for a moment, yielding the space to her.
I even went outside and gazed at the Bart territory. The view from the window was quiet, but somehow empty. Lively. No, it lacked vitality. Of course, it might have been because this place was a bit remote, like Winter Castle. But still.
The people here just didn't have that spark. Could I blame it on the Crown Prince and all the nobles swarming the area?
"Leor, what do you think? The vibe."
"I-it's flashy."
"Not that. Compared to the North, I mean. I can see it's flashy myself—the golden lion statues and all."
"St-still, what Foreign Minister Jamuchin said... doesn't seem wrong."
"That it feels like the underworld?"
It wasn't wrong. While I was at the castle, various staff members had come and gone. Among them were a few owls on my orders. Their mission was clear: assess the current state of the South. The Bart family had strong influence even within the imperial court, after all. They made a perfect case study.
"A-and the soldiers' skills are terribly low."
"Well, their guards couldn't even catch you."
"Th-the strategy itself was flawed."
Time to get ready. After Daniela emerged from the room, I naturally offered my arm. She placed her hand on it, and we began walking cautiously. I noticed a few tears glistening in her eyes. Regret, perhaps? I decided not to ask. Blood ties felt cruel in this world, but they were still blood.
We boarded the carriage and left the territory behind. Daniela fell into a deep sleep amid the jolts. Beside her sat an owl disguised as a staffer. He reported on the Bart territory.
"It's serious, Your Grace. Many are starving. Rumors say life is better only around the gold veins."
"If those rumors are circulating right in the heart of the territory, something's definitely wrong. But I can't pinpoint it."
"It might be the curse of the gold itself, Your Grace."
"Like the resource curse?"
There weren't many places near the gold veins to procure food. They had to sell gold to buy it, but the demand was too high for civilians to manage. The Bart family, monopolizing the wealth, skimped on reinvestment. The gold flowed only to nobles and the imperial family. The entire industry was being devoured by the mines. But the wealth was constantly siphoned off. No trickle-down to the bottom—just the top hoarding more and more.
"Then the one at the top is Marquis Roland."
"It's more complicated than that."
The imperial family "recognized" the Bart family's ownership and levied taxes. Taxes on distribution networks. Prices pegged to gold's value. The imperial family controlled it all. That was the complexity. Families buying the gold had to watch the imperial mood, and even bartering came with taxes. It wasn't taxation—it was a leash. The Bart family was handing over mine profits directly to the throne. No wonder their influence there was massive.
That economic structure—taxes, gold shipments, and control via the fiancée pretext—now made perfect sense. I finally understood what they meant by the imperial family's "backing."
"We'll need to investigate other regions too, Your Grace."
"Leave that to Dorgon. Got it. Get some rest yourself."
Thoughts swirled in my head. Serving the imperial family with a leash around their neck meant everything ended if it snapped. They needed a gold consumer—or something even better. Gold didn't always bring profit. Especially once the leash was on; it became poison.
Things were getting complicated. Shouldn't have chatted so much with the Bart family. Should've talked to others.
"But Your Grace, one thing's certain: no other family offers us as much gain as the Barts."
"Why's that?"
"Other families are likely worse off."
"Confident words. Alright, let's go with that."
A day after leaving the territory, the road back to Winter Castle felt even longer. I sorted through my thoughts and even read along with Daniela's book. But nothing beat home. Still, no chance to unwind upon arrival. The staff dove right back into work, checking clauses, adding amendments, reviewing nonstop.
The general meeting was held the morning after my return to Winter Castle. Everyone was there—from the nobles leading our armies to nearly all the ministers. Strangely, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. Chatter filled the room even before we sat, and it didn't die down when the meeting was supposed to start.
"Congratulations, Your Grace!"
On what?
"We've heard the Grand Duke finally has a Grand Duchess! What greater cause for celebration?"
"Ah, that."
Everyone was talking about it. Hope for a new future in the North. It wasn't that big a deal. But it felt burdensome.
"Don't jump to conclusions. Here's how it happened..."
"Many pushed for a selection process, but there were plenty of debates in your absence, Your Grace."
Hexon stepped forward first. I'd meant to ask if anything happened while I was gone, but apparently, they'd been preparing a bride selection internally. Without me, even.
"A selection?"
"At your age, Your Grace, it's time to have heirs and prepare the next Wintergard. To leave us in this prolonged bachelor state..."
"I know your loyalty. But is it that urgent?"
"It is that serious. If something happened to you..."
Murmurs spread. Since I took over as Northern Grand Duke, years had passed. But the North, reliant on one man's charisma, harbored real worries about the future. I hadn't realized it was this bad.
"Your Grace! We serve only Wintergard. Even if other families or petty Southerners came, would anyone here pledge loyalty?"
"Rough talk today. Everyone acting like something's up."
I shifted in my seat. The faster the North developed, the greater the anxiety—and it veered far from what I'd expected. Prosperity was great. But what came next? The same nagging doubt.
Just in case.
"We've quietly worried about your successor, Your Grace."
"Isn't that premature? I'm still spry. Healthy as ever."
"But Your Grace, before you ascended, few Northern men lived past forty. Most died in war or starvation."
True enough. Northern men died young on average. War and famine took most. But life expectancy had risen sharply now.
"It's because of you that we're united like this. But we fear that unity crumbling after you're gone."
"I understand. Hexon. Does everyone here feel the same?"
"We thought winter would return and doom us all."
The nobles nodded. Longtime retainers and new ministers alike shared the fear. The dread that the North's dark past—the underworld days—might return. No phrase struck more terror in Northern hearts than winter returning. A warning. A loss of direction.
"No need for such worries now. Just do your roles. I'm sorry for disappointing you all."
No, Your Grace!No!
The ministers' voices filled Winter's Hall. I nodded. Northern unity. Not what I'd intended.
"Your Grace, I have urgent business!"
The one who shot to his feet was the Wintergard family's designer, in charge of all Winter Castle's artwork. The court painter, as they called him.
"We must decide the new emblem for the Grand Duchess. How shall we proceed?"
We can do that later!