Purging Corruption (2)
Late at night, the finance office in the Wintervalt Grand Duchy Castle was in an uproar with corrupt nobles scrambling to return their embezzled funds. It was practically a war zone.
"Hurry up! Get the money from anywhere, interest be damned! Son! Do you really want to be dragged off to the labor camps!?"
Baron Benjamin, drenched in sweat, was barking orders at his family through a communication orb. But not everyone was bending the knee so easily.
"Tsk tsk, what idiots. Handing over the family fortune because some punk scared them."
A mocking voice drifted in from outside the office. It was Viscount Bargo, the chief military supply officer. He leisurely puffed on a premium cigar, looking down on the foot-stomping Benjamin with utter disdain.
"V-Viscount Bargo! You can talk because you skipped the meeting! Don't you know Baron Klein's head rolled!?"
Benjamin asked in shock, but Viscount Bargo just snorted derisively. He'd been away from the territory on supply procurement duties and missed the meeting. Even now, despite the duke's summons, he was strolling the castle grounds at his leisure.
"Heh heh. What does that brute know about ledgers? You think the duke ignored my corruption for the past five years without knowing?"
That little girl must've put some ideas in his head, making him think he's the audit chief or something. But the audit chief's been on my payroll for ages, my loyal dog.
Can some illegitimate princess who knows nothing of the world unravel ledgers laundered through multiple layers with southern merchant guilds? No way in hell, Bargo was certain.
They thought a little scare would make me bow? Dream on.
He was Viscount Bargo, the man who controlled the entire military supply chain. Even the duke couldn't just toss him aside. Swordmaster or not, you couldn't fight monsters without supplies.
Time to proclaim my innocence and win the duke's trust. He knows full well that touching me cuts off the garrison's supplies.
Viscount Bargo strode toward the Lord's Office with arrogant, unhurried steps.
Kailan rolled his stiff neck and yawned silently. It was the most overtime since his possession, but the sense of accomplishment outweighed the fatigue. The nobles' voluntary payments had already neared 200,000 gold!
Considering they only made about 1,500 gold a day from monster hides and magic stones, this was revolutionary.
It's just getting back what was the territory's money to begin with.
Even recovering all the embezzled funds would only buy a year's breathing room—not a fundamental fix. But a year was something. It lightened the heavy burden in his heart a bit.
This is all thanks to Princess Eleanor.
His gaze shifted to the desk opposite. There sat Eleanor, munching a sandwich in one hand while poring over documents.
I gotta say, hiring her as finance officer was genius—even by my standards.
Kailan inwardly marveled. He'd given her a top-grade potion after she fainted from overwork that morning and put her to bed, but she'd snapped awake at lunch and dove right back in.
"Your Grace."
As Kailan admired her, Eleanor swallowed her bite and spoke up.
"It's nearly midnight, but Viscount Bargo's side hasn't coughed up a single silver. He seems convinced his double ledgers are airtight."
She adjusted her newly fitted glasses with a finger.
"His embezzlement method is the worst of the worst. The records show delivery of top-grade dwarf-forged iron swords, but he supplied cheap iron blades mixed with impurities. Lucky for us, our seasoned knights used them—if novices without aura had fought monsters, they'd shatter after two or three swings. This isn't just embezzlement; it's murder, gambling with northern knights' lives."
For the first time, Kailan's icy blue eyes turned frigid.
Low-grade iron swords? So that's why last year's casualties were so high.
Viscount Bargo was the exact type Kailan despised from his past life: crooks who cut corners with shoddy materials for profit, endangering workers' lives. Human trash beyond nuclear waste.
"Finance Officer Eleanor. How much were the condolences for the knights and soldiers lost in last year's subjugation?"
"Fifteen Expert knights and 190 regular soldiers. Including family payouts, new recruits, and training costs, sunk expenses total about 200,000 gold."
"And how much did that bastard Bargo pocket?"
"Estimated at 50,000 gold."
Kailan clenched his fist, scowling.
"He blew 200,000 gold in territory assets just to line his pockets with 50,000? Sending blood-sweat-trained soldiers to their deaths at the training grounds?!"
Knock knock knock.
A polite knock sounded, and the office door opened.
"Your Grace! I humbly request an audience at this late hour."
Speak of the devil. It was Viscount Bargo. He bowed deeply, playing the loyal retainer.
"I hear Benjamin and some fools dipped into the territory budget? Preying on our hardworking northern folk in this harsh land... As supply chief, I can scarcely contain my outrage."
Bargo smiled slyly like a weasel.
"I rushed here fearing the young princess might misread the ledgers. Your Grace, I've devoted my life to northern supplies. My loyalty is spotless—not a speck of dust..."
"What touching loyalty, Viscount."
As the duke watched silently, Princess Eleanor cut him off in a low voice. She tossed a stack of documents at his feet.
"Your ledgers show payments to the capital's dwarf forges for weapons."
"Y-Yes...?"
Eleanor tapped a page with a smirk.
"Odd, though. Tracing the funds through the imperial bank, they went not to the dwarf forges, but a southern scrapyard. Buying scrap now and passing it off as dwarf steel?"
"...!"
A crack appeared in Bargo's smug facade. He forced a laugh, denying it.
"N-No way! Your Highness must've investigated wrong! How dare I..."
"Warehouse Chief Taren's confession is here, courtesy of Knight Captain Cedric. He spilled before his head came off."
Eleanor shoved the evidence forward.
"Statement and thumbprint: supplied faulty weapons, funneled the difference to your private vault. Call it slander if you like, but we'll inspect that vault together."
The top graduate's auditing skills were phenomenal! Sweat poured from Bargo's brow. A search of his estate would only dig his hole deeper—no innocence there.
Pale, he bared his hidden fangs: take hostages since excuses failed.
"Y-Your Grace! True, I couldn't resist northern bad habits! But it was a necessary evil to maintain supply lines in this barren north!"
Bargo bellowed at Kailan, veins bulging.
"Punish me, and the First Supply Depot shuts down tomorrow! Southern weapon guilds and smithies move only on my credit! Fight monsters barehanded?!"
Unable to stomach more, Eleanor interrupted.
"We don't need your rotten supply chain of shared dirty money. No worries—I'm cutting ties with them anyway."
"Wh-What?! Have you lost your mind?! Then tomorrow's weapons...!"
"Imperial Wartime Administration Law, Chapter 11, Article 1: 'Frontline territories facing imminent monster waves may compel [Wartime Emergency Procurement] from the Imperial Merchant Alliance.' As supply minister, you know this clause."
"Th-That obsolete law...!"
"That obsolete law is enough. To hold until we build a new northern supply network. Your flimsy connections have no place in Wintervalt now, Viscount Bargo."
Kailan grinned, hand on his sword hilt.
"Any more reasons I should let you live? Speak now."
His 190cm frame loomed. The Swordmaster's overwhelming presence froze the office air.
"Don't delude yourself, Bargo. I never planned to spare you from the start."
Kailan closed in on Bargo's face.
"Last winter, 120 of my men died because of your garbage swords."
Three months post-possession, he'd never met them. Still, their lives mattered.
"Y-Your Grace! Unfair to blame me entirely...!"
"Save your excuses for my soldiers in hell."
Sching!
No one caught the draw or sheathing of Kailan's greatsword, Frost Fang. Just a blue flash slicing the air.
Viscount Bargo's head tumbled across the floor. The severed neck froze solid—no blood spilled.
Kailan sheathed his blade with a disgusted grimace. Then he remembered Eleanor.
Shit, crazy bastard. Showing the princess—greenhouse flower that she is—two beheadings. What if she quits as finance officer?!
He whirled, ready to explain.
"Eleanor..."
But something was off. She stood demurely, the picture of a wise wife. Her face and eyes serene, almost.
Removing her glasses, she spoke calmly.
"Imperial Tax Code, Chapter 8, Article 2: Traitors who divert military supplies endangering the territory forfeit 100% of assets to the lord."
Eleanor beamed at Kailan.
"Your Grace, we can seize Viscount Bargo's family's hidden funds and capital properties at leisure. Rest now—you've recovered far more than embezzled. Celebrate."
"......"
"I'll make good use of the corpse. Perfect visual aid to show what happens if embezzled funds aren't returned."
Kailan stared blankly. Thrilled at surplus profits mid-beheading? Proposing the body as a textbook? Even with the Northern Duke behind her, it took guts.
No wonder her bullying imperial kin fears her.
This woman's my soulmate!
Kailan wrapped an arm around Eleanor's shoulders as they left the office.
"I'll rest as you advise. And Eleanor... join me?"
"A-An honor, Your Grace!"
That night, for the first time, they shared a sweetly intimate evening.