Free Web NovelChapter 6: Political and economic gambit
They approached the business center and went inside.
An atmosphere of overwhelming luxury and strict minimalism reigned within the walls: soaring high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows revealing the sharp, dark silhouette of the city, and the cold, unyielding gleam of polished marble. Several people sat in the lounge, looking like very important personages—tailored, expensive suits, perfect posture, and heavy, calculating gazes. Of course, with a crisis of this magnitude unfolding, it was only natural that the necessary players would be here, drawn to this epicenter like chess pieces before a decisive move.
’I wonder if I can use this disruption to my advantage?’ Ruthless thought, his mind already spinning through the variables, calculating options before he even reached the door.
The three of them entered the inner office, where Princess Lysandra was already seated in a massive, high-backed chair. Her appearance was the ultimate embodiment of aristocratic coldness: chiseled features as if carved from marble, flawlessly straight posture, and long, silky hair of a deep, dark shade cascading over her shoulders. She wore an elegant, high-status dress, with intricate family signet rings glinting on her fingers.
But the perfect facade was cracking at the seams. The Princess looked remarkably nervous; her manicured fingers tapped a faint, rhythmic beat against the lacquered armrest, and her gaze darted frantically across the chaotic spread of documents on her desk.
’By the looks of it, she is completely consumed by the problem,’ Ruthless immediately assessed. ’It seems we chose a difficult timeline to initiate contact.’
All three bowed their heads. In the heavy silence of the office, the gesture looked almost synchronous.
"Hello, Princess Lysandra. We have come to you on an urgent matter," Ari began, trying desperately to keep her voice steady.
"What do you want?" Princess Lysandra replied aggressively, her tone sharp enough to cut, not even bothering to look up from her papers.
"There is a person here..." Ari didn’t have time to finish before the Princess harshly cut her off with a flick of her wrist.
"Yes, yes, execute him," she said suddenly, waving them away as if brushing off a pesky insect.
The casual cruelty of the order sent a shockwave through the room—Ari and Nora literally froze in place, their breath catching in their throats. Except for Ruthless, of course. His pulse didn’t even quicken. His internal mechanisms immediately began analyzing the trap to find an escape vector.
’Alright, the Princess ordered my execution simply because her cognitive load is maxed out. She has no time for variables. She is occupied with a major operational crisis.’
’To her, her current problem holds a massive negative value; if she fails to solve it, she faces a colossal loss. Meanwhile, eliminating one insignificant boy yields a net-neutral result in her coordinate system. Therefore, I must change my value. I must turn from a neutral factor into an obvious, high-yield asset for her.’
The space of the office seemed to contract, the air growing heavy with suffocating noble pressure. Ruthless instantly switched on his performance, adjusting his body language to meet the executioner’s expectations.
"C-can I..." Ruthless began to speak in a frightened, trembling voice, slightly pulling his head into his shoulders, simulating a weak boy utterly crushed by the invisible, suffocating aura of the room and the princess’s raw power.
"What do you want?" the princess snapped with clear rejection and simmering irritation, finally slamming her palm onto the desk with a loud thud and staring directly at him with her cold, predatory eyes.
"F-forgive me for such a lowly person disturbing you in such a difficult situation," he stammered, raising a terrified face as if he were looking directly into the jaws of a monster. "I-it’s just that I have a good intellect... well, if you don’t mind, I think I might be able to help you."
Nora and Ari looked down at Ruthless in surprise, taken aback by how thoroughly frightened he appeared. In the silence of the office, his simulated panic felt contagious, causing the two warriors to hunch their shoulders even lower under the heavy gazes of the surrounding nobility.
The princess remained ice-cold, but she wasn’t one to waste potential utility.
"Fine. Come here," she commanded immediately. "If you fail, things will become very hard for you."
’Good. She took the bait,’ Ruthless noted, mentally recording the successful passage through the first vulnerability in her psychological defense.
Ruthless stepped closer to the grand desk. The princess sharply turned one of the tactical maps on the table toward him, her finger tracing a line.
"The city of Syoga is completely dependent on the supply of magical Lumen crystals, which replace electricity," she outlined, her voice tight. "They power the bright lamps on the streets, the smiths’ forges, the heating of houses, and the protective barrier. The crystals are mined in autonomous mountain mines that do not legally belong to Syoga."
’They don’t belong legally...’ he began to analyze, categorizing the geopolitical boundary.
"Due to recent rains and landslides, the main trade road has narrowed, and throughput has dropped," the princess continued, her expression turning fiercely aggressive as her palm cut through the air over the map. "I decided to capitalize on the deficit and introduced an ’Emergency Gate Toll’ for incoming caravans to quickly replenish the treasury."
She gripped the edge of the desk, her eyes flashing with rage. "But how the hell was I supposed to know the miners would be more pragmatic than I anticipated? Instead of paying the high entrance tax, they simply halted their caravans right at the city border. They created an artificial total deficit. The price of Lumens inside Syoga has jumped fivefold. Businesses in the bazaar are suffocating, smithies are closing, and the cooks can’t even fire their ovens."
’I see. The architecture of the crisis is relatively basic, but it requires precise leverage,’ Ruthless thought, his eyes scanning the panic reports from guilds and merchants scattered across the wood.
’If she cancels the tax, she demonstrates structural weakness to external suppliers, and Syoga’s treasury loses its status as a regulator. The ego of her power will be undermined. If she sends the army to seize the mines by force, the miners will simply detonate the tunnel entrances. Syoga will remain without energy permanently, the city will plunge into darkness, and the economy will collapse.’
After a split second of processing, a faint, almost invisible smile played on Ruthless’s lips—the quiet triumph of pure, unadulterated calculation hidden entirely beneath the shadow of his eyelashes.
"May I speak?" he asked, bowing his head obediently.
"Go ahead," she replied sharply.
In an instant, Ruthless’s voice shed its pathetic tremor, flattening into a steady, cold, and mechanical cadence.
"You do not cancel the ’Emergency Gate Toll,’" he stated calmly. "Instead, you issue an immediate decree: the tax remains active, but for every twelve hours a caravan remains stationary at the border of Syoga, the tax amount for that specific caravan increases by an additional fifteen percent. You possess the legal jurisdiction to enforce this."
"Why would I do that?" the princess asked, her irritation shifting into sharp curiosity. The important personages whispering in the corners went completely quiet, their heavy gazes turning toward the boy.
"The miners are currently holding the caravans at the border for free, waiting for Syoga’s economy to collapse so you will surrender," Ruthless explained, his eyes locking onto hers. "Now, every hour of idle time will generate a progressive, compounding loss for them. Stasis becomes economically fatal."
"True enough," she murmured in surprise, leaning forward with her entire body, resting her elbows on the lacquered surface of the desk.
Ruthless continued without a pause. "Simultaneously, the Princess introduces an alternative rule: if a caravan enters the city immediately and commits to selling its Lumens to end consumers—the blacksmiths, cooks, and shops—within six hours at a fixed, pre-war price, the state will refund eighty percent of the paid tax back to the miners."
Lysandra’s eyes narrowed, tracking his logic.
"However," Ruthless added, "this refund is issued not in gold, but in ’Syoga-vouchers,’ which can only be spent inside your city on food, grain, tools, and fabrics produced right here in Syoga. While the miners are hesitating over the math, Syoga officially announces that only the first five caravans to cross the city line will receive the right to this ’Green Corridor’ and the tax refund. The rest will pay the tax at the full, compounding rate."
An absolute, ringing silence fell over the grand office. The only sound left was the distant, muffled hum of the city outside the panoramic window, entirely unaware that its entire economic fate had just been recalculated by a boy.
After a long, heavy pause, a sharp smile and a wave of genuine excitement broke across the princess’s face. Lysandra’s eyes gleamed predatorily. She slowly rose from her massive chair, towering over him as she looked down at Ruthless.
"Boy, now I want to execute you even more," she purred, her voice a dangerous mix of awe and possessiveness. "But you..."
