Birth of the Wintervalt Direct Guild
The next morning at the Wintervalt Direct Guild. In the corridor just outside the meeting room of the Grand Duchy Castle, Viscount Bargo's head dangled limply from a rope.
"Eek!"
The nobles summoned for the morning meeting nearly foamed at the mouth and collapsed. The man who had strutted arrogantly into the Lord's Office the night before had his head severed and put on display overnight.
"I told him it was too dangerous..."
"Threats of strikes mean nothing before His Highness's sword!"
The nobles trembled as they entered the meeting room. Some had been executed, others dragged off to wall construction—nearly half the seats stood empty.
"W-We greet Your Highness the Princess..."
Kailan Wintervalt was absent from the head seat today. In his place sat a woman clicking an abacus and cross-checking ledgers.
The North's new power broker. The one who had unleashed a storm of blood in the political arena.
The Fourth Imperial Princess, Eleanor von Waldemar.
No one dared even think of her as a bastard or a mere girl anymore.
The princess began the meeting in a cold voice.
"His Highness will not attend today's meeting. You've all seen the results of last night's special audit right at the entrance, haven't you?"
"O-Of course, Your Highness!"
"We thank you for sparing our lives!"
"We shall shatter our bones in loyalty to the duchy from here on!"
Led by Benjamin Baron, the nobles slammed their foreheads to the floor in unison. The North, where one always lived prepared to be monster fodder, had disciplined knights but pampered, corrupt nobles—until yesterday.
Eleanor's eyes gleamed like a hawk's in the morning sun.
"Very well. Let us begin drafting the spring budget. Overinflated food and weapon maintenance costs will be cut by forty percent across the board. Any objections? Raise your hands."
No one dared. Viscount Bargo's head at the entrance kindly explained what happened to objectors.
"No response means unanimous agreement. Bear in mind: a single silver's discrepancy in administration will bring Wintervalt direct tax collectors. Dismissed."
Backed by Swordmaster and Grand Duke Kailan, the princess filled his absence effortlessly.
Watching from outside, Kailan smiled contentedly.
'Ah, this is nice. Hiring one good finance minister halved my workload. Now just fix the deficits!'
Two months after the great purge swept the North. Vacancies left by executed or bankrupt corrupt nobles—sold into labor—were filled by injured retired veteran knights and capable administrators.
Viscount Bargo's iron grip on military supplies and distribution was split in two. Meticulous Clara Baron, who had quietly buried herself in ledgers, became the internal logistics "Supply Overseer." Renowned negotiator Rian Count took external trade networks as "Trade Liaison."
The security administrator post, once siphoning budgets, went to one-eyed veteran knight Walter Knight, retired from a subjugation war, reclaiming a seat.
With corruption uprooted and Eleanor's merciless budget reforms, the North's deficits visibly shrank. Kailan's order to preserve top-quality monster byproducts from subjugations helped immensely.
But Kailan was still hungry!
"Plugging deficits won't secure my peaceful retirement... er, fill our people's empty bellies."
In the Grand Duchy Castle meeting room, Cedric's eyes reddened beside him.
'Our lord, toiling day and night yet thinking only of the people!'
Kailan ignored Cedric's predictable thoughts and continued.
"Ahem. We need a new venture to fundamentally overhaul the North's finances."
"A new venture, my lord...?"
Newly appointed Trade Liaison Rian Count asked cautiously.
"If defense troops' magic stones barely cover deficits, we'll invade monster habitats ourselves and hunt."
Cedric's face rarely hardened.
"My lord. Assigning defense beyond guarding will cause overwork collapses. Forgive my impertinence, but it's flaying the soldiers alive."
"I know. Knights must protect the duchy."
Kailan grinned, tapping the table.
"I'm creating the Wintervalt Direct Guild, manned by our northern folk."
Everyone's eyes widened.
Central continent villages had adventurer guilds aplenty. But the North—nine months winter, harsh wilds—lacked even a branch. Its blizzards and thick-hided ferocious monsters deterred adventurers.
"Mobilize commoners for monster hunts? They're lumberjacks who've barely held a sword. Sending them to the woods is slaughter!"
Cedric objected in horror. But Kailan saw differently.
In his past life, he'd witnessed logistics workers' raw vitality. Northern commoners were the same: hacking frozen earth with picks, felling house-sized logs with axes. Their strength and grit could chew up southern trainees.
"Cedric. Our people toil bone-breaking days for rye bread scraps. Wasting those bodies on firewood and barley is dereliction of a lord's duty."
Offering high-profit opportunities was a true lord's obligation!
"But pitting them against monsters barehanded...!"
"On that, I can support His Highness's vision."
Eleanor, scribbling furiously, interjected. Her blue eyes sparkled.
"Ignoring commoners' potential wastes manpower. I've planned radical support beyond typical guilds to turn them into proper adventurers."
'That fast!?'
As Kailan blinked, Eleanor slid a parchment to the table's center.
Guild Support Policies
"First: gear support. Our northern knights are so skilled, weapons rarely wear."
Indeed. A master swordsman's aura turned twigs to famed blades; enhanced edges dulled little.
"Dwarf-forged swords and spears rot in warehouses. Lend them free to guild joiners."
"Free loans?! Give precious steel to peasants?"
Supply Overseer Clara Baron gasped.
"Lending, not giving, Baron. Repairs on the adventurer. It'll revive our forges."
Clara grumbled calculations but couldn't deny the surplus.
"Next: free training. Weapons alone don't fell wolves."
Eleanor eyed one-eyed Security Administrator Walter Knight.
"Appoint injured retired veterans as 'guild instructors' for newbies' combat training."
Kailan nodded, calling Walter.
"Sir Walter. From today, you're the first Guild Master of the Wintervalt Direct Guild. Impart your battle experience generously to our people."
A bold move, handing guild mastery to a security admin. Yet no objections.
"To recall this old, broken body and grant purpose! I'll stake my remaining life to forge them into elite warriors!"
Walter knelt, tears streaming.
Kailan smiled satisfied. Like rehiring a retired manager at minimum wage.
"Also," Eleanor continued, "during training, provide two free meat stew meals daily at the Training Grounds. They need fuel to endure."
Kailan clutched his stomach at dumping embezzled funds back. But he couldn't scold his wife, who'd policy-crafted at light speed for him.
'Necessary investments.'
Nobles nodded—half sincere, half head-fearing.
Eleanor's final policy:
"Third—and most vital: If guild adventurers are injured hunting, the castle covers 80% of medical and potion costs."
"What?!"
Cedric and Clara leaped.
"Princess! No! Even elite adventurers get hurt. Low-grade potions cost over a gold! 80% burden bankrupts us in three years!"
Clara pleaded bloodily. Botched treatments from potion stinginess retired many. Potions were luxuries.
But Eleanor smiled unshaken.
"Not from duchy funds, Baron. Create an internal guild medical mutual aid fund."
"Medical... mutual aid?"
"Yes. Collect 7% of all magic stone sale proceeds from members into a communal vault."
She scribbled nonstop.
"Some get hurt, some don't. Tax all, aid the needy. Zero duchy loss. My math says top adventurers' taxes yield huge profits."
Kailan inwardly reeled. Pillow talk might've spilled his past life's national health insurance. Or Eleanor was a genius.
"Your Highness."
Eleanor clutched the parchment shyly, gazing up.
"The guild needs heavy initial investment... all recovered embezzlements spent. But for your grand vision, it's worthwhile. What say you?"
Kailan's heart ached as he rose.
'I'm no romance novel flower-brain sub-male lead, but...'
That upward gaze left no refusal short of duchy sabotage.
"Eleanor, your genius brain is the goddess's blessing on Wintervalt! Perfect. Ministers, what delay? Proceed!"
"Ah...! Y-Your Highness... such praise leaves me flustered...!"
Grasping her hand, Kailan flushed her crimson. A perfectly matched couple.
The next morning. In bone-chilling northern winds at central Wintervalt Square, commoners buzzed around a wooden bulletin board.
"What's it say? Anyone hear?"
"Handing weapons to commoners... knights mentioned it."
"What!? Farmers wielding swords against monsters?"
"Using us as meat shields now!"
"We're doomed!"
Illiterate folk erupted in gripe and fear. Then a grizzled elder read aloud.
Upon guild enrollment: Free training by retired regular knights...
During training: Free meat stew and barley bread from the castle—two meals daily!
Wolf magic stones bought at 1 gold each.
The elder's eyes bulged, voice quaking.
"Meat stew and bread free!? H-How many meals!?"
"Two!!"
"TWO!!!!!"
Murmurs swelled. Potato-and-rye survivors saw hot meat stew as imperial feasts.
"Not the stew, idiots... Guild buys wolf stones at 1 gold!"
"Fuck. I'm adventuring today."
Taxes, fees, fund cuts? Insane perks blew minds. Unprecedented imperial welfare hyped turnout.
"Shit!"
Massive lumberjack Hans, lifelong axe-wielder, hurled his battered tool down.
Clang! Parting crowds, he stomped forward huffing.
"Better gnawed by wolves than starve! If dying, swing a sword cool at least!"
Hans's roar ignited despairing, shivering hearts.
"Y-Yeah! Hans is right!"
"I'm in! Warm fur coat for my wife—my dream!"
"Where's the guild!?"
Hundreds frothed zombie-like, charging the guild. Death fears evaporated before hot stew and forward-thinking welfare.