Tollbooth Tycoons
In the stronghold’s office, the dusty old iron safe creaked open with a heavy groan. Rodin stared into its empty maw and let out a deep sigh. Yesterday’s assassins had all been “harvested” and planted in the fields—a refreshing outcome, to be sure. The problem was their belongings. True to their elite training, they carried only lightweight gear. Not a single jewel or gold coin to be found.
“Hey, princess. You’re supposed to be some genius administrator. What the hell is this safe? It’s practically growing spiderwebs.”
Rodin rubbed his temple. Veronica, seated at the desk and flipping through ledgers, gave an elegant snort.
“I thought you claimed to have no interest in money. Yet the moment cabbage seeds run low, you come running to me?”
“Not caring and starving to death are two different things. Next week we have to pay for those imported premium nutrients, and at this rate we won’t even have enough to feed the men meat. Should I just send Dagan and his boys to raid a merchant caravan?”
“Raiding is for amateurs……” Veronica twirled her pen. “Rodin, you’re completely out of touch with the current meta. Swinging swords means injuries, which means medical bills and funeral costs. Terrible cost-performance ratio.”
Rodin flopped onto the desk with a bothered grunt.
“Then what, we just starve? I can’t live on cabbage alone. Sometimes I want greasy pork belly too, you know.”
“Raiding is what low-tier players do. True experts sit at the crossroads and collect money legally. We call it the ‘Stronghold Toll Collection Business.’”
“Legal? In a bandit den? Our specialty is illegal, remember?”
“As of today, we are the owners of this forest path. We maintain the road, protect travelers from monsters, and guarantee their safety. In return, we charge a toll. Justification can always be manufactured.”
Rodin’s ears perked up noticeably. The phrase “safely making money” sounded sweeter to him than the promise of premium cabbage seeds.
A massive wooden signboard was erected in the stronghold courtyard. Veronica gathered the bandits, using a broom instead of a conductor’s baton. Dozens of men—including Dagan and Gil—sat before the board with vacant expressions. Teaching economics to them was like reciting poetry to illiterate wild boars.
“Listen carefully. From now on, we will not attack merchant caravans. No more charging out screaming with blades drawn. Instead, set up barricades at the crossroads and collect money with elegance.”
Dagan shot his hand into the air.
“Sister-in-law, how is that any different from raiding? You’re still blocking the road and taking their money!”
“It’s completely different! Raiding creates resistance and grudges. A toll is the price of ‘safety assurance.’ Tell them that while traveling this path, we will protect them from monsters and rival bandits in our territory.”
“We’re bandits, yet we’re protecting them from ourselves? Isn’t that just creative economics? Sister-in-law really is brilliant!”
Gil clapped in admiration. Veronica winked as if in complete agreement and continued.
“The fee is standardized at five silver coins. Too expensive and merchants will detour. Always give exact change and greet them cheerfully. Understood?”
“Five silver coins? Isn’t that too cheap? If we just robbed them we could get several gold coins!”
“Exactly. Because it’s cheap, merchants won’t resist and will come every month. Haven’t you heard of high volume, low margin? One robbery feeds you once and it’s over. Tolls bring steady income every single time they pass! Don’t beat one man to death—tap many men lightly and often!”
“Ooooh……! High volume, low margin! Sister-in-law is a genius! She’s making money while picking her nose!”
The bandits’ eyes lit up as if someone had flipped a switch inside their skulls. Rodin, watching from the corner, shook his head. Inside, however, he was already adding top-grade fertilizer to his shopping list.
That afternoon, at the entrance to the Silver Mane Forest Path.
To collect tolls, a “gate” was required first. Rodin appeared with a bothered expression, carrying house-sized logs on his shoulder. Trees that would normally require ten strong men just to roll, he swung around like toothpicks.
“Just plant them here, right? Man, this is such a pain.”
Boom—!
When Rodin slammed his fist down on the log’s head, the massive pillar sank several meters into the ground without any tools. The earth shook as if an earthquake had struck, sending up clouds of dust.
“Whoa, Boss! You’re hammering them in with your bare hands! The ground looks like tofu!”
Dagan cheered with his mouth wide open. Rodin brushed his hands indifferently and picked up the next log.
“Shut up. I need to finish this quickly so I can water the cabbages. Let’s wrap it up before sunset.”
Gil wrote huge letters on a wooden plank and nailed it up.
Black Mane Stronghold Tollbooth — 5 Silver Coins. Receipts Available.
Just then, a house-sized boulder blocking the path caught Rodin’s eye. He sighed and gave it a light kick.
Bang—!
With an explosion, the boulder shattered like flour and scattered in every direction.
“What was that? A mountain rabbit?”
Rodin turned toward the rustling sound in the forest, but all that remained was the afterimage of a scout from a merchant caravan who had already fled, pants soaked in terror.
“Not quite, Boss! That was probably our very first ‘valued customer’!”
Dagan cackled, swapping his axe for a ledger.
A short while later, in front of the tollbooth.
A medium-sized caravan with four ornate carriages came to a halt before the gate. The merchant leader was deathly pale and trembling. His scout had just reported that a “monster who could collapse a mountain with one kick” was blocking the road.
Dagan, with his ferocious face, approached while forcing a smile. He was trying to practice the “friendly service” Veronica had emphasized. To the merchant, however, it looked like the cruel grin of a man about to slit his throat.
“Hiiik! Please spare me! Take all the silk and jewels in the cargo—I beg you, just spare our lives……!”
“Goodness, sir! You’ve misunderstood. Our ‘Agricultural Cooperative’ does not engage in such barbaric acts. Simply pay the facility usage fee of five silver coins.”
“F-five silver coins? You’re not taking everything?”
The merchant narrowed his eyes in disbelief. Then his gaze drifted past Dagan to Rodin. The man was casually tapping a steep cliff beside the gate with his pickaxe, turning the rock face into farmland. Every strike caused the cliff to crumble like paper, creating flat ground. It was pure terror.
“I-is that gentleman the one guarding this road?”
“Yes! Our terrifying boss personally cleared the path, so not a single monster will appear. Safety guaranteed, right?”
“H-here are five silver coins…… no, take ten! Please just let us pass safely!”
The merchant frantically thrust out his money pouch. Veronica appeared from behind the carriage, politely refused the extra, and took exactly five silver coins.
“We respectfully decline tips. We operate an honest fixed-price system. Here is your receipt. Please use our services again.”
The caravan passed through the gate with expressions like men who had seen a ghost. Having arrived prepared to be robbed, five silver coins felt like they were getting off for free.
At dusk, in the stronghold office.
Dagan set a heavy money pouch on the desk with a huge grin.
Jingle—!
The pleasant sound of clinking silver coins filled the room. Rodin, who had been napping on the bed dreaming of catching cabbage worms, snapped awake.
“Boss! Jackpot! We earned two hundred silver coins in a single day! And not one of our boys got hurt!”
“What? We didn’t even raid a single caravan and we made that much? Two hundred coins…… how many sacks of premium fertilizer is that?”
Rodin touched the silver coins inside the pouch and marveled. Sitting behind one gate was far more efficient than risking his life on the battlefield as a mercenary.
“See? I told you. Word is already spreading among merchants that this is ‘the road protected by a monster for only five silver coins.’ Even caravans that used to take the long way around are starting to come this route.”
Veronica took a triumphant sip of tea.
“Wow…… princess, you’re not just good with ledgers! You’re a total Minter!”
For the first time, Rodin looked at Veronica with genuine respect (?).
“Should we set up a cabbage stall next to the gate tomorrow? If we write ‘Organic Gold Cabbage Grown by the Mercenary King,’ the passing merchants will lose their minds and buy them all.”
“Excellent idea. Adding the line ‘Highest Quality, Personally Inspected by a Princess’ would let us charge double. I’ll handle the marketing strategy.”
That night the stronghold threw a noisy meat feast with the day’s enormous profits. However, in the darkness near the tollbooth a short distance from the stronghold, cold eyes watched the gate.
They were not assassins sent by the empress. They were scouts wearing refined, engraved light armor—men dispatched by a nearby lord who ruled the local territory.
“Those bandit bastards built a gate and are collecting tolls? And according to the rumors, the woman beside them is definitely……”
“This isn’t simple banditry. It’s systematic taxation. Someone is pulling political strings from behind. If we leave this alone, our domain’s commercial rights could collapse.”
One of the scouts quickly turned his horse around. The changes at the stronghold had already grown beyond a mere disturbance; they were becoming a political issue that threatened the interests of the surrounding lords.
At the same moment, Rodin lay in bed, smiling contentedly at a flyer Veronica had brought for the latest automatic watering device.
“Hmm, with this automatic watering machine I won’t have to carry a kettle around anymore. Making money is so easy.”
“Of course. Next week we’ll build an inn and a carriage repair shop beside the tollbooth. I’ll make sure money rolls in all by itself.”
“Yeah, do whatever you want. But…… why is it so quiet outside? The wind feels strangely cold.”
Rodin frowned as he stared into the deep darkness beyond the window. As always, the peaceful dreams of a farmer were never allowed to last very long.