If There's No Money, Pickpocket It

That final line written in Hangul—I couldn't move for a long time after reading it.

A traitor exists? What the hell is the Crow Brothers' organization? These were all completely new pieces of information. But they had to be incredibly important.

'The heroine in the original wasn't an idiot.' The romance fantasy novel I'd read had some serious historical inaccuracies... There were definitely a few glaring mistakes. But the overall flow had been a romance fantasy that never once sacrificed that web-novel sting—the kind that cuts right to the bone.

There's a reason popular works are popular. The heroine, true to her role as the protagonist, had steadfastly helped the male lead resolve one crisis after another in the north, and watching her do it was almost as satisfying as the romance itself. She was obviously not some airhead or empty-headed fool. And since this sharp, capable person had left that final message, it had to mean something.

'And this one—only I can read it.' I had no idea who the traitor was, but they definitely couldn't read Hangul. The heroine had probably only taught the male lead how to read it. Given that even the head butler—her closest confidant—had referred to it as a cipher, it meant he couldn't read it either.

So for now, the smartest move was for me to pretend I couldn't read the Hangul written in her diary or letters either. It was far more advantageous to keep the traitor from realizing I knew about the traitor. That way, I could quietly track them down and take them out in a surprise raid.

'Now then, this diary... If she wrote something this important, there must be plenty of other crucial details buried in the rest of it.' I started going through the other sections of the heroine's diary and the letters she'd exchanged with the male lead, carefully, page by page. And as expected...

"A treasure vault. A treasure vault, is what it is."

In the original, this corresponded to the post-wedding epilogue. The diary and letters showed how the heroine had clawed and scraped to rebuild the crumbling north over the course of ten years of war. Fascinating techniques. Business ideas that would make serious money if only they were developed. Detailed action plans for those ventures, meticulously organized in Hangul that only the male lead and heroine could understand. The problem was that they were merely interesting and full of potential.

Turning these businesses and technologies into reality would require capital. And so, money. Money. Money! Borrowed money. Money needed to overhaul infrastructure, grow military strength, and launch new ventures. The problem was that the north was a fortress city that was good at nothing but fighting, with absolutely zero sources of income. "No matter how many times I rack my brain, it's the same conclusion. Right now the north is broke—no goods to sell at market, no lands worth squat."

To start a business, you need capital. But there's no quick way to raise the seed money you need. So the business is impossible, there's no way to make money, but there are plenty of ways to spend it. What a vicious cycle. I stood in front of the heroine's desk, racking my brain, feeling gloomy for a while.

'Why are you thinking so complicatedly?' The solution, as it turned out, was simple. 'If there's nothing in the north that can make money right now...'

I'll pickpocket it from someone else.

"With the food we extorted from Leonard Marquis's estate yesterday, we can hold out for two or three days. But food alone isn't enough. We need money."

The next day. The Sword Chamber. I'd gathered the northern nobles, the Hellhound Brigade's adjutant, and the battalion commanders.

"And regrettably... Based on the documents the scouts sent yesterday and my own direct inspection of the north, I've concluded that there is currently nothing in the north that can generate revenue. The upper ranks are on the verge of bankruptcy. Military strength is a mess, and there's almost no money to hire people or equipment to repair the Blood Wall. Even if we wanted to launch a business, there's no capital to speak of."

It was grim, but it was reality. The northern nobles hung their heads as if embarrassed. But I slammed my fist on the table hard enough to make it ring, and their expressions changed.

"We have no money, but the southern, western, and eastern bastards? They've got plenty. No matter how you look at it, if the north is going to survive, we need to extort money out of them."

"We've thought of that too, sir. The north is handling the Magical Creature defense alone. The idea of collecting defense contribution funds from the other regional nobles was something Grand Duke Volka planned to pursue."

"The problem is the timing, isn't it?" Viscount Krat nodded at my words.

"Ten years of war—there was no way to spare troops to collect contributions from other territories. And it's the same now. With the north's military strength depleted, we can barely focus on Blood Wall defense as it is."

"Don't worry. Leave the northern army focused on Blood Wall defense as they are now. Most of the Hellhound Brigade will stay behind too."

Viscount Krat stared at me with an expression that was 10% hopeful and 90% resigned.

"If we leave the majority of our troops behind... do you really think the southern, western, or eastern nobles will hand over supplies and money willingly?"

"Of course they won't. But don't worry."

I glanced at the beastmen. And smiled.

"There's a way to make them hand it over."

I stood up from my seat.

"Adjutant. And only the battalion commanders of the Hellhound Brigade and the adjutant will move with me. Wolf. Bear. Fox. Rabbit. And Rat. Move with me."

At my words, the adjutant and commanders immediately stood to attention.

"As ordered."

"Viscount Krat. Commanding the remaining Hellhound Brigade is your job. Put them to full use and defend the Blood Wall."

I clapped Viscount Krat on the shoulder and grinned.

"I'll bring the money back."

At my words, the northern nobles also stood to attention.

"Farewell, Your Grace."

And just like that, the meeting was over. I walked out of the Sword Chamber with the battalion commanders and the adjutant, grabbed a truck immediately, and climbed into its cargo hold.

"Let's go. To the Imperial Palace."

The truck began to move, its magic engine whining as it sucked up fuel with that familiar sound. Just five battalion commanders. The adjutant, me, and one driver—a pathetically small crew setting out on this grand extortion expedition.

"It's good that we set out with such confidence, Commander. But with fewer than ten of us, what exactly are your plans for extorting money?"

I held up two fingers to everyone.

"There are two things we need. First: legitimacy. That's something His Imperial Majesty can provide."

"That seems likely. From the Imperial Court's perspective, they can't afford to let the north fall."

"The problem is that this isn't an era where legitimacy alone is enough to extort money. This is an age of fragmentation and every man for himself. The empire is already showing signs of splitting apart. It's in such a precarious state that a slight shock could shatter it. The Imperial Court is desperately trying to prevent that fragmentation, and the nobles are locked in bloody feuds, trying to squeeze every last drop out of the Emperor. Naturally, it's not an era of sweet, cushy romance where you can just waltz in with the Emperor's blessing and some paperwork ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and ask people to hand over their money."

"Don't worry. Because in the south, east, and west, there are armed forces we can mobilize immediately."

The battalion commanders and the adjutant laughed out loud at my words.

"Are you planning to mobilize the Imperial Army? His Imperial Majesty won't just sit by and watch."

"Even from the Imperial Court's perspective—where they need to somehow bring the nobles around to their side—it would be impossible to justify mobilizing the army and provoking a confrontation."

The commanders were right.

"I agree with what you're saying. We can't move the Imperial Army."

"Then?"

"Gangs."

"Yes?"

"More precisely... beastman criminal organizations."

The laughter vanished from the faces of the battalion commanders and the adjutant. Two emotions flashed across their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠expressions. One: What the hell kind of insane nonsense is this? And simultaneously...

"Wait—this could actually work?"

"My relatives are living in the west right now."

"My extended family's in the east. They're all doing gang work because there's no employment, but still..."

That look said everything—there was potential.

"Their training levels are a complete mess, and their arms aren't even standardized. At best, they've got illegal pistols and Lupas they bought on the black market. But they're forces numbering in the thousands, capable of overpowering armed humans with raw physical strength. And they'll move for us."

The battalion commanders. They weren't simple Imperial Army officers. They were beastman Imperial Army officers. And every single one of them was a war hero. For beastmen who had been despised and trampled on, they were symbols of rising success and recognition.

"If you guys just play your part well enough, it's more than possible."

"Honestly, I always get the feeling that you bring impossibly absurd operational plans, Commander."

"But I'll trust you on this one. Commander Volka has always made those operations succeed."

The other battalion commanders nodded as well. They were my subordinates. Trustworthy bastards.

"Let's do it, you sons of bitches. This time, let's grow the Hellhound Brigade's numbers a bit. And let's take the beastmen, bring them back to the north, and settle them down. I'll make sure you've got houses registered in your names. I'll make sure you can live there with your wives and kids."

My subordinates laughed. I laughed along with them. For the comrades-in-arms I'd fought alongside for ten years. And, if you looked wider— for the beastman race as a whole.

We piled into the military truck and headed for the Imperial Palace, chatting about this and that along the way.

"Commander Volka. I'm granting your requests as you've asked."

What I'd requested of His Imperial Majesty was three things. First: The Hellhound Brigade's autonomous recruitment authority. Second: The outdated bolt-action rifles and ammunition stored in the Imperial Army's reserve. And third: Authorization to use certain Imperial Army equipment.

"The real issue is this one. Getting the regional nobles to hand over supplies—that's entirely your responsibility. And as you'd expect... military confrontation must not occur."

"The nobles can't be given any justification to attack the Imperial Court, either."

"That's right. Strict conditions. Do you think it's feasible?"

"Trust me and leave it to me, Your Majesty."

His Majesty took my hand.

"Grow the north. The north must become strong. Only then can I give you more help."

"I understand, Your Majesty. Don't worry. There's nothing to concern ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠yourself with."

"I trust you, Commander Volka."

I saluted His Majesty and left the room. What I'd received was three sheets of documents. But even this much was enough.

"Did you get them?"

"Got them."

I waved the documents and, grinning, started walking with the battalion commanders and the adjutant. My subordinates' expressions were bright.

"So are we finally going to be able to push through with this?"

"Obviously. With His Majesty's order, that equipment is now officially Hellhound Brigade property."

"I feel like kissing you, Commander."

"If you look at my face and still feel confident enough to kiss me, go ahead."

"I'm declining. I don't have that kind of confidence."

"You piece of shit."

"Yes, I'm a piece of shit."

We traded stupid banter like that as we walked for a while. Finally, before our eyes appeared something grand and immense.

A massive iron body. A colossal magic engine powered by coal. The number-one hero that had kept the empire alive through six years of the Magical Creature War and the four years of war with the Kramkin Kingdom that followed. The Empire's heavily armored gun train.

"Behemoth."

The stuff of men's dreams, assembled right here before me, was rumbling and vibrating. Of course, the Behemoth couldn't reach northern Pandril— the northern rail line was still severed. But for circling through the south, west, and east to collect defense contribution funds, there was no better mobile command post in existence.