Landlord Above the Creator: Move-In Day in Wintervalt New City
Wintervalt New City Residential District. Just a short while ago, this had been a barren wasteland battered by relentless icy gales. But look at it now. Buildings framed with steelwood gleamed with a bluish tint under the sunlight, and not a single draft seeped through the seams sealed meticulously with slime mucus. It was a cutting-edge development that could hold its own anywhere on the continent. And today was the day—the grand opening for the first residents to move in.
"Come on, everyone! No pushing—form an orderly line! We'll verify your residency permits and hand out your house keys!"
The temporary housing distribution center was swamped, an absolute sea of people. Adventurers and northern locals who'd spent their days slaying monsters and their nights grinding away at grueling labor now stood in line, clutching their permits with trembling hands. Among them was Gail's party, veterans from the south.
"Bro... our turn's coming up soon. My heart's about to explode."
Rick swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. Gail let out a long breath, emotions swirling across his face.
"Yeah. Same here."
This moment was more nerve-wracking than any monster fight.
"Hey! Adventurers! Hand over that permit right now, and I'll give you 120 gold for it! Please, sell it to me!"
Merchants from the central regions, who'd arrived too late to snag houses, spat as they haggled desperately with Gail's group. House prices had doubled from 60 gold at the tavern just days ago to 120 now that the new city was complete. Rick's pupils quaked for a split second, but Sena, standing beside him, tapped the dagger at her waist and shot the merchant a glare.
"Scram. I wouldn't sell even for 200."
"Eek! O-okay, got it!"
The merchants fled at Sena's murderous aura. Gail chuckled and glanced at her.
"Sena, you're rock-solid, unlike this idiot."
He jabbed Rick's side, and Sena crossed her arms with a grin.
"Money's flowing into this land from across the continent. Only a fool would sell prime real estate for pocket change like 120 gold."
"Heh heh. I'm fine being the fool! I'll stick by my smart bros forever! Oh, but I won't cramp your dating style—don't worry!"
Gail was too exhausted to even smack Rick anymore. Soon, it was their turn.
"Mr. Gail, Mr. Rick, Ms. Sena. You've all secured prime lots—congratulations! Here are the keys and deeds to your single-family homes on Solar Street, Block 3."
The staffer beamed, handing over three steelwood keys. Sena, flush with coin, remained nonchalant, but Gail and Rick's hands shook so badly they nearly dropped them. Small and cozy, sure—but it was theirs. A decade of drifting through southern back alleys and dingy inns. Mercenary life, where tomorrow's death loomed, drowned in booze whenever pay came. Now, for the first time, they had a true home, a sanctuary of their own.
The trio bolted straight for their houses, starting with Gail's.
Click!
Gail swung open the heavy steelwood door and stepped inside. Even the sound of the key turning felt good.
"...Huh?"
Rick froze, blurting out dumbly. Sena's eyes widened, mouth agape.
"Bro... this is really the north, right?"
"Beats me... damn. This ain't a dream, is it?"
The interior was unbelievably toasty. Warm air filled every corner—you could ditch your coat without a shiver. The north's biting winds couldn't penetrate the steelwood and slime insulation. And the floors? Radiating heat.
"Th-the floor's heating up! Gail!"
Sena bounced around in delight.
"They said just replace the fire magic stones every two months. Tough to source, but solar ones last years."
"Bro! Bro! BROOO!!"
Rick flailed on the floor, rolling like mad—lost in memories of huddling by firewood at night. No more chopping fuel, no more ash cleanup. The duke and duchess's revolutionary building tech turned northern homes into southern summer havens.
Thud. Sena sprawled out too, claiming territory. Gail smirked down at the pair, no seats left.
"Ughh... bro..."
Tears streamed from Rick's eyes.
"So glad we listened and didn't sell... 100 gold? Screw that—wouldn't sell for 1,000. I'm living here forever... burying my bones in the north!"
"Quit crying like a damn girl."
Gail nudged Rick's shin lightly, but his own eyes were reddening. Sena sprang up and flung open the wooden living room window. Beyond, Wintervalt's night sky glowed softly from the little artificial sun. Now mass-produced via scrolls, Eleanor's night-illumination magic kept the new city from total darkness even without her.
"Wintervalt... what a ridiculous place."
Sena murmured at the sky. Gail sidled up beside her.
"Worth the trek up here?"
"...Not bad."
She smiled faintly, eyes fixed ahead. Warm room, sun outside, man's warmth beside her. Money had flowed, but unease lingered in her heart. Coming north had started mending that.
The joy wasn't just theirs.
"Uwaaah! Duchess! DUCHESS!!"
"Duke! I'll slave away like a dog forever!!"
Northern toughs—lumberjacks who could split a bear's skull with one axe swing—sobbed openly, hugging their house pillars like kids. Raw, fierce faces melted into tears.
"My wife and kids can winter without freezing now!"
"All thanks to the duke and princess! For them, we'll work twice as hard tomorrow!"
Grateful cries echoed through the new city streets all night.
Around the same time. Lord's Office in Wintervalt Grand Duchy Castle.
"Heh heh...!"
Kailan Wintervalt—empire's top Swordmaster, the grim specter of the battlefield—lay draped over his desk, chuckling slyly. Piles of approvals and deficit ledgers that had buried it were gone. In their place: mountains of gold coins and high-value imperial bank checks.
"Your Grace! Duke!!"
Trade Liaison Count Rian dropped to his knees, buzzing with excitement. Beside him, Knight Captain Cedric and Guild Master Sir Walter trembled shoulder-to-shoulder.
"The books are closed! Profits from this month's commercial leases and residential rentals in the new city: ..."
Rian shook his parchment as he bellowed.
"A whopping 310,000 gold!! The largest surplus since Wintervalt's founding!!"
Pure urban development revenue—no monster hunts or anything. A one-time windfall, but steady rental income ahead was no joke.
"Ughh...! Your Grace!!"
Cedric broke into sobs. Kailan rose, patting his loyal aide's shoulder.
"Well done, Cedric. No more fretting over arms or food—we can all focus on training."
"This old dog vows his life to you! Your Grace and the duchess's mercy is vast as the sea!"
Retainers kowtowed, wailing. The corrupt fools who'd siphoned funds and underestimated Kailan? Long gone from Wintervalt.
Kailan feigned his usual benevolent lord face, but today it was tough.
Jackpot! Just sip tea with Eleanor in a warm room, and money duplicates monthly!!
They mistook his reddened eyes for tears of love for the people, sobbing harder.
"Ughh!"
"Your Grace! YOUR GRACE!!"
"Ahem!"
Kailan cleared his throat, resuming his dignified, compassionate pose.
"You've earned it. This success is the fruit of your faith, sweat, and the people's toil."
He stood, proclaiming.
"Barns full mean time to give back! Special performance bonuses this month—for knights, admins, everyone in the castle! And good food, booze for guild branches!"
"Bonuses on top!?"
Fed folk hunt monsters tomorrow to pay rent. Kailan swallowed the rest.
His bold bonus bash stunned retainers into ecstatic cheers.
"Long live Duke Kailan!! Eternal Wintervalt!!"
"Summon the knights—we'll wipe monsters clean! Not a rat near Your Grace's shops!!"
Tasting capitalism's sweetness, they'd die for him on command.
"Enough—dismissed. I need rest too."
They filed out sniffling. Silence blanketed the office. Kailan turned slowly. In the corner, beside gold piles, at a small desk: Wintervalt's true savior, top contributor Duchess Eleanor von Waldemar, round glasses on, quill flying nonstop.
"Hm, next quarter: pave more roads around commerce zones, readjust southern caravan tolls..."
No trace of her persecuted bastard past. Just a workaholic genius finance minister, reborn for Wintervalt's revival and her husband's peace.
Kailan crept up, gently prying the quill free.
"Ah, Your Grace? Still so much left..."
"Enough for today. Can't watch my precious wife collapse from overwork, no matter the profits."
Her cheeks flushed at his tender tone. Night deepened. Artificial sunlight warmed the office. Kailan's gaze drifted to his desk's bottom drawer. Hidden there: deed to the priciest, largest, highest-rent five-story standalone shop in the new city. His personal asset, not the duchy’s.
The performance bonus system? Motivated knights and built legit slush funds like this.
Better than a ring?
Grinning at the unforgettable gift for his beloved wife.
While Kailan shared a beautiful night with Eleanor, far from the Northern Wall in jagged mountains.
Grrrrr...
Thousands—no, tens of thousands—of red eyes gleamed in the dark.
"Looks warm. That place looks very warm."
A low voice. Intelligent, unlike any orc's grunt. His gaze fixed on the sole golden blaze piercing the pitch-black northern sky: Wintervalt's artificial sun.
The north's true calamity, dormant for centuries, stirred. The orc great chieftain—high intellect—hoisted his massive weapon, drawn by the new city's warmth.