I'll Discount Your Wrist
"I'll cut the price on your wrist."
"Uwaaaaaah!!" Luluen's guard knight Derek roared as he brought down his sword wreathed in crimson aura.
Boom!
The sword strike collided with the wall, erupting in a deafening explosion. Moments later, the dust cleared.
"...What?!"
The modest home, designed like a quaint family dwelling, stood unscathed without so much as a scratch. Nearby laborers wore bored expressions.
"What, that's it?"
"He'll do more. Guy's from the imperial court, after all."
Derek scanned his surroundings, his face flushed with humiliation. He suspected some mage had tampered with it somehow. From his perspective, there was no other explanation. An imperial guard knight had unleashed a full-force aura-infused strike. Even a magically fortified castle wall should have cracked.
But his aura-enhanced dynamic vision detected no traces of mana.
Some expert's hiding in there. Hmph. Still just a puny mage.
Derek ceased firing sword beams. Instead, he charged the building directly, swinging his blade in a frenzy.
Clang! Clang-clang! Kang! Kaaaaang!
A dazzling sword dance unfolded.
"Ooooh!!"
"He's actually gonna break something now!"
The territory folk cheered Derek on with admiration, but the knight dancing his deadly blade was dying inside.
It's so... heavy! This is supposed to be a rundown peasant shack?!
No matter how relentlessly he hammered it with his aura-charged sword, he couldn't even leave a light graze. The wall remained exactly as it had when he'd first arrived.
Break...! Break already...!!
If even a tiny crack formed, he'd pry it open. But far from cracking, the rebounding force made his own wrist throb.
Kaaaaang!
Frustration drove him to overdraw his aura, and soon he hit his limit. The edge dulled, and his famed sword began to chip. For a first-rate knight, damage to one's blade was a mark of personal inadequacy. His palm felt raw inside the glove.
"How... how can this be...?"
Derek stood there dumbfounded. His arms hung like lead weights. Holding onto his sword was all he could manage.
Meanwhile, the building retained its pristine form.
The northern folk fell silent for a moment. Then cheers erupted from their midst!
"Told ya he couldn't break it."
"Hooray! The house we built beat an imperial knight!!"
"Long live Wintervalt!!"
Thrilled that their blood, sweat, and tears had repelled even an elite imperial knight's blows, the laborers high-fived and danced gleefully.
Kailan smirked at the workers before slowly approaching Derek.
"That's enough."
"Y-Your Grace..."
"Safety inspections are vital, but this is a product we're selling for profit. Covering it in dust won't do."
His all-out strike dismissed as mere "dust," Derek turned in despair. There stood the Third Imperial Princess Luluen von Waldemar. She'd forgotten even to hide behind her fan, trembling with rage.
In contrast, Eleanor—who'd smiled serenely like a saint—gazed innocently delighted at the flawless wall.
I... I made Her Highness Luluen lose face because of me...!
The sword in Derek's hand was a custom masterpiece forged by the empire's finest smith, a gift from the princess. To him, she was a goddess who spared no gold or praise. To tarnish her honor... Derek suppressed the urge to commit seppuku and bowed his head deeply.
"St-Step aside!"
Then, the imperial architecture inspector Oliver stumbled toward the wall, wide-eyed.
***
Oliver was an architecture inspector with thirty years of experience. Sticking to one job that long required genuine passion. Sure, he'd survived the cutthroat imperial court by cozying up to superiors, flattering them, and dabbling in mildly shady dealings.
But at heart, he was an architecture fanatic. He'd adored buildings since childhood, and that fire never dimmed.
Now, facing Wintervalt's structure, he felt that first-love thrill again.
Clang! Claaang!
Pulling out his tools, Oliver tapped the wall.
Clang!
Each hammer strike rang with a clear metallic tone.
"This... this can't be...!"
Like a madman, he pressed his ear to the wall, caressed the pillar joints, inspected the roof sealing, and darted about ceaselessly.
"Impossible. It's way sturdier than the imperial palace...! Slime reinforcement can't explain this!"
Anyone in the north could own such a house for a price? As Oliver shuddered, the impatient Third Princess tapped his shoulder with her fan and whispered fiercely.
"Hey. What are you doing? Stop standing there like an idiot and find some flaw already..."
"Just a moment! Please wait!"
Luluen's face hardened. She could scarcely imagine a mere inspector scolding her, an imperial princess.
He'd already forgotten the Third Princess existed.
Panting, Oliver rushed to Kailan and dropped to his knees in the dirt.
"Your Grace!!"
Tears welled in Oliver's eyes.
"This humble Oliver begs you!"
"Begs what?"
"Allow Wintervalt's magnificent buildings into the Imperial Architectural Annals!"
Oliver banged his forehead on the ground, words tumbling out.
"I'll feature them prominently in the year-end report to His Majesty! Leaving such perfection out of official records is an insult to architecture itself!"
Practically a zealot, he shouted his heart out. Northerners were used to outlanders falling for their culture like this.
***
What's this guy's deal now?
Kailan was thrown but kept his composure, calculating mentally.
Showing an imperial knight's sword couldn't dent it would spread via word-of-mouth among laborers and mercenaries. The whole north would buzz soon.
But that wasn't enough. Many new-city homes and shops sat empty, ownerless. Selling them dear would fund worker wages and meat stew bonuses.
For that, he needed buzz across the continent. And here was a prominent inspector offering free publicity on a silver platter.
Luluen hadn't tormented Eleanor—she'd delivered a gift.
Can't pass this up!
Kailan adopted a stern lordly gaze, looking down at Oliver.
"I, Kailan Wintervalt, am not so petty as to ignore passion for scholarship. Do as you wish."
"Oh! Thank you, Your Grace! Thank you!"
Worried Oliver might back out, Kailan decided on a small gift.
"You've traveled far to verify northern folk's safety—hard work. We should send you off with a token."
At Kailan's nod, Cedric approached with a heaping bowl of slime dough and thrust it into Oliver's arms.
To an outsider, it looked like dumping trash for disposal.
But Oliver's face lit up ecstatically!
"Th-this... is it the slime mortar used to build this house?! D-do I dare accept such a treasure?!"
He gazed at it like a man with no regrets left in life. Studying it could let him design wonders too, his ambition shone through.
Take it and research forever. You won't crack the secret anyway.
Sadly, no mere sample allowed reverse-engineering. Only Eleanor's solar mana-warmed water and soil, mixed precisely with slime mucus, made it. Her solar mana was key—even identical mixes without it yielded tenfold less strength.
Oblivious, Oliver kowtowed furiously.
Watching, Luluen gripped her fan handle till it bent. Her own man, brought in her carriage, knelt swearing fealty at the duke's feet.
"Oliver...!"
She glared murderously, but Oliver was lost plotting Annals text, forgetting her entirely.
Noticing Kailan's gaze, Luluen forced a wry smile.
"Ha, haha...! What a remarkable building. Eleanor. I worried needlessly."
Even as her gut twisted, she clung to elegance in futile defiance. Just the ridiculous expression the ducal couple craved.
Eleanor smiled back at her.
"Yes, thanks to your concern, sister."
A noble, radiant smile without a hint of sarcasm.
"Now the new city's safety is proven. No need for you to lose sleep over us anymore."
Before her sister—now the proud lady of the north—Luluen swallowed her fury and bowed her head.
***
"......."
The Golden Scale Merchant Guild's office was deathly silent. Guenter couldn't recall the last business talk here.
He gnawed his nails anxiously, staring out the window.
How the hell is this going...!
Weeks had passed since Third Princess Luluen left for the north. Far too many. He longed to visit, but her warning—"Come without permission again and I'll kill you"—haunted him.
It was maddening.
Bang!
The barely repaired office door shattered again as thugs burst in.
Loan shark Karos of the Blood Axe and his goons.
The office grew lively at last. Though not the vibe Guenter wanted.
"K-Karos! Calm down first!"
"If you wanted me calm, you'd have gold ready. Guenter."
Blood Axe Karos closed in slowly with his men. No escape.
Guenter paled, flattening himself on the floor.
"Just a bit longer! Really, just a little more time and I'll sell the materials!"
"When I gave you a chance, you should've dumped them at half price or sold the whole guild."
Karos nodded; two burly thugs pinned Guenter's arms.
"W-wait! Just a moment longer, I swear!"
Karos drew a hand axe from his belt.
"You lack desperation."
"W-wait! Karos!"
Karos had no intention of stopping.
"Let me teach you desperation."
"No, don't—please!"
Karos whispered in Guenter's ear.
"Don't worry. I'll specially discount your wrist from the principal."
"Kwaaaaaaaaagh!!"