Lend Me Some Money
Let's take a moment to talk about the war from a while back.
The Empire. A nation so mighty that it needs no label like Empire A or Empire B—everyone just knows. Of course, this isn't solely the strength of the emperor who rules it, nor the electors and nobles lording over their domains like kings in their own right. Let's set that aside for now.
Back when it wasn't yet an empire. The king, having sorted out his political entanglements with the nobility, raised an army. These days, only crusty old historians bother debating the pretext. Was it that a neighboring kingdom's territory had once belonged to his ancient ancestors? Or maybe just a localized skirmish near the border? Under a justification neither victor nor vanquished cared much about, countless spears, swords, and banners gathered.
The neighboring kingdom, facing this one-sided invasion, frantically sought aid—but only silence replied. In the war's early days, no other nations had any intention of intervening directly. It wasn't a total war of national survival between states; they'd skirmish moderately, shed some blood, exchange memorandums and gold, carve up territories, and call it done. Sure, some would die and spill blood in the process, but those were unavoidable sacrifices. By the unwritten rule that nobles don't kill nobles, no noble blood would be spilled.
It should have been that way.
BOOM!BOOM!
The rumored new weapon—no one had confirmed its existence despite the whispers—cannons utterly upended the paradigm of warfare. Not point attacks, but area attacks. The border count of the kingdom, hunkered down in his castle awaiting reinforcements per classic strategy, saw his fortress fall in just seven hours after the war began.
The unbelievable outcome, witnessed firsthand, spread as rumor across the continent. Nobles who had stood by with folded arms, insisting it was none of their business, and kingdoms planning to drum and dance from afar now gathered secretly at the negotiation table. If they had pooled their strength swiftly to form a coalition army...
...then the empire we know today might never have earned that name.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? We cover seventy percent of the supply costs?"
"Heh heh. Still got some leisure in you, I see?"
"We have to haggle the bare minimum terms for any agreement, don't we?"
Unfortunately, their tangled web of interests clung like sticky spider silk, breeding mutual distrust. Meanwhile, the invaders—guided by the surrendered border count and local lords—advanced like a whirlwind straight to the enemy capital. The king could wait no longer for their armchair debates; he summoned all remaining lords to resist, but those in the rear ignored the call.
"If the king falls... we won't have to pay taxes anymore, right?"
"A truly wise decision, my lord!"
They were bound only by the contract of land, not by loyalty to live and die together. In such a situation, if the king were captured and the foe called off the war satisfied? The rear lords could wipe their noses without lifting a finger. Cursing their selfish calculus for survival, the king raised the drawbridge. He torched the surrounding fields and poisoned every nearby well.
Rumors said another border count's castle had fallen in a flash, but rumors were just that. If such an absurd weapon truly existed, the continent would have been unified long ago. If he could just hold out until winter, the enemy—who had marched without regard for supply lines—would have no choice but to retreat. And with that, he could persuade the nobles still sitting on their heavy asses to send reinforcements. With the enemy at the capital's gates, it was the best bitter-pill decision possible. The court mage dismissed cannons as preposterous nonsense, and food stocks were ample.
"Fire!!!"
BOOM!
BOOM!
Alas, cannons were as real as their thunderous roar. The shock ripped the earth as if it were tearing apart, mercilessly clawing and shattering the ancient walls. By the time the castle's defenders were reduced to so much minced meat—with no counterattack worth the name—the king threw open the gates and surrendered.
Two kingdoms vanished, and one empire was born.
In the frigid Manrmursk region—where even summer harbors rarely thaw—seafood is a rare delicacy. Hard to come by, so it's pricey; pricey, so rarely sought, shrinking supply; shrinking supply hikes prices further. A perfect vicious cycle of supply and demand, illustrated by the man now gnawing on dried squid jerky as he spoke.
"So... how much?"
"...Please don't think of it too negatively. Their spending matches our domain's outlays, so in the end, it circulates back into the local economy."
Whoosh!
Unfortunately, the youngest administrator's defense was cut short by a flying squid leg. Fortunately, unlike last time's chicken bone, it wasn't sturdy enough to embed in the wall.
"Get to the point. How much do we need? Answer."
"1... I think at minimum 12 million gold."
The border count's squid dropped straight onto his plate. The slightly undercooked leg glistened with sticky saliva.
"Last year's domain revenue?"
"Just over 25 million gold."
"And for His Majesty's surprise visit, we blow nearly half—12 million gold—at minimum?"
"I-it wasn't a surprise. His Majesty's tour was announced a full year ago."
"Announced a year ago or today, they still just notify and show up!"
His momentum was so fierce it felt like flames licked the border count's back. Those around him, having learned the hard way that speaking first made you the punching bag, maintained a synchronized silence.
"Forget the tour or whatever—I just tell 'em to get lost, problem solved!? Honestly, they come, spend money, but does it really help us? Am I wrong?"
Both the ranting border count and his listening retainers knew it wasn't feasible. The emperor's tour carried the nominal purpose of "strengthening bonds between provincial lords and the imperial house, while holding summary trials for issues the emperor wishes to oversee personally." But that was mere pretext; post-war, it was a ploy to check overly enriched or empowered lords by goading wasteful spending. Indeed, the new emperor's tours had targeted only electorates or massive domains.
Still fuming, the border count waved everyone out and pressed his throbbing temples.
"Hah... If only 20 million gold would drop from the sky."
"I'll be direct, Prime Minister Ilka. Lend me some money, would you? About 30 million gold."
"No."
On a sunny afternoon in Utopia, Seolhwa was asking to borrow money.