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The emissary was received in the main hall of the Honey Mug, where the Lord of the North sat at his massive oak table. Beside him, as always, stood the Spear of Longinus, its shaft shimmering in the hearthlight. Katya, Green, and Father Tuk were also present, their faces inscrutable. The Marshal, visibly nervous but attempting to cling to the last vestiges of his former arrogance, read the Emperor's official message.
It was filled with flowery phrases about "loyalty to the throne," "duty to the Empire," and "the need for unity in difficult times." The essence, however, boiled down to one thing: the Emperor was asking the Lord of the North for a substantial loan.
"His Imperial Majesty, by his great mercy and in the name of the prosperity of the entire Empire, appeals to you, Lord of the North, as one of his most powerful and far-sighted vassals," the marshal began pompously, "with a request for a loan of…" He faltered before uttering a figure he knew was astronomical. "…ten million gold pieces, to restore order in the Empire and put an end to the banditry that plagues our lands."
The Lord of the North listened without changing his expression. His gaze was cold and perceptive. When the marshal finished, a silence fell upon the hall, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Green smiled almost imperceptibly. This was a triumph. The Emperor, who had once despised and boycotted the Honey Mug, now stood with his hand outstretched.
"Ten million gold, you say?" the Lord of the North finally spoke. His voice was calm, but it held a steely resolve. "An impressive sum. And what guarantees can you offer, Marshal? His Majesty's treasury, as I understand it, is quite depleted, and his authority… well, it is being tested."
The Marshal turned pale. "Guarantees… His Imperial Majesty offers… offers his word! And, of course, a portion of future tax revenues, once order is restored."
The Lord of the North slowly shook his head. "The Emperor's word, Marshal, has always been golden. But now, alas, it does not carry the weight it once did. And future tax revenues… who can vouch for them when the Empire is shaken by rebellions and control over its territories is weakening?"
He raised a hand, and Katya silently placed several scrolls before him. "I have more current data, Marshal. In the last month alone, the Western Marches have failed to contribute even half of their usual taxes. And the Southern Duchies… it is utter chaos there. Your guarantees are, to put it mildly, questionable."
The Marshal looked desperately at Green, then at Father Tuk, but found neither sympathy nor aid in their eyes.
The Lord of the North continued, his voice like a sentence being passed. "I appreciate His Imperial Majesty's trust, Marshal. But my principles are simple: the risk must be justified. Ten million is too great a risk for my… humble bank. Especially when there is no collateral and no real guarantee of repayment." He paused, his gaze growing sharper. "Unless His Imperial Majesty is prepared to offer something truly valuable. Something that can guarantee a return on the investment, even if his throne… wobbles a bit."
The Marshal understood. This was not just a "no"; it was an invitation to bargain, but on the Lord of the North's terms. Terms that could cost the Emperor far more than just gold. The anger in the marshal's eyes gave way to hopelessness. He knew the Emperor would be furious, but they had no other choice.
The Marshal drew a breath. "What… what are you proposing, my lord?"
"The proposal is simple, Marshal," the Lord of the North continued, his gaze fixed on the envoy's face, studying his every emotion. "In exchange for these ten million gold pieces, which will allow His Imperial Majesty to crush the rebellions and consolidate his power, I demand the complete and permanent exemption of all trade routes passing through my principality, as well as all routes leading to the Honey Mug, from any and all imperial tolls, duties, and taxes. In perpetuity."
The Marshal's mouth fell open in astonishment as he tried to process what he had heard. It was unheard of! The imperial treasury depended on these duties. But, on the other hand, it did not directly affect the Emperor's own lands, only the territory of the Lord of the North, which the Emperor struggled to control anyway. And ten million gold was needed right now.
"In perpetuity?" the marshal muttered.
"In perpetuity," the Lord of the North confirmed. "It will be an imperial decree, secured by His Majesty's seal and blood, guaranteeing that no official, no vassal, and no tax collector may levy tribute on caravans traveling to or from the Honey Mug, or on those crossing my lands. My trade routes will become a free zone, under my complete jurisdiction."
Green, standing behind the Lord, gave a barely perceptible nod. It was a masterful move. Free trade routes meant more than just an absence of taxes; it meant the unimpeded flow of goods, the strengthening of the Honey Mug's monopoly on shadow trade, and most importantly, official recognition of its complete autonomy from the imperial tax apparatus. This was not just a loan; it was the legalized removal of the principality from the Emperor's direct financial control.
Father Tuk folded his hands, his gaze on the marshal. From the Church's perspective, freedom from worldly levies for the prosperity of trade was a kind of blessing, especially if it contributed to "order."
The Marshal sighed heavily. He understood that this condition was humiliating for the Emperor, effectively ceding control over vital economic arteries. But without those ten million gold pieces, the rebellions could escalate to the point where the Empire would collapse entirely. And then there would be no duties to speak of.
"I… I will convey your condition to His Imperial Majesty," the marshal said, his voice hollow.
"Do so," the Lord of the North replied calmly, "and emphasize that this is the only price for the salvation of his power. Time is of the essence. The rebellions will not cease, and the Golden Legion… it will always be ready to assist those who are willing to pay. And now, Marshal, the Emperor has the opportunity to pay and receive the help he so desperately needs. But only on my terms."
When the marshal left the Honey Mug, he carried with him not only the hope of the Emperor's salvation but also the bitter realization that the true power in the Empire was changing hands. And the Lord of the North, watching him go, knew that this "loan" would be the final nail in the coffin of the Emperor's absolute power and the beginning of a new era for his own principality.
After the marshal departed the Honey Mug, carrying the bitter pill of the Lord of the North's terms, silence reigned in the hall. The Lord of the North, satisfied with the outcome of the negotiations, turned to Father Tuk, whose face, as always, radiated calm and pragmatism.
"Father Tuk," the Lord of the North said, his gaze filled with meaning. "The time has come to expand your chapel. It is time to turn it into a full-fledged church."
Father Tuk's eyes widened slightly in surprise but quickly returned to their usual expression. He understood the true meaning of these words. This was not just about construction; it was a statement. A statement about the North's growing power, about its independence—not only financial and military, but spiritual as well.
"My lord, this is a great blessing," Father Tuk replied, his voice deep and full of sincere gratitude. "The people of the North deserve a true House of God, which will stand as a beacon of faith and hope in these troubled times."
The Lord of the North nodded. "Exactly. And this church will be a symbol of our strength and our patronage. It will serve not only the spiritual needs of our people but will also become a center from which the ideas that you, Father, so skillfully convey to the hearts of the people will spread."
He turned to Katya. "Mistress, allocate the necessary funds and resources. Let the finest craftsmen and builders from all around be brought in for this task. The church must be magnificent, yet it must reflect the spirit of the North—resilience, reliability, and steadfastness."
Katya, ever ready for new projects, was already mentally calculating estimates and schedules. "It will be done, my lord. It will be the most magnificent church in our lands, and its construction will be a source of work and prosperity for many."
Green, observing this exchange, understood that it was another strategic move. A new, grand church, built under the patronage of the Lord of the North, would strengthen his authority among the common people and the clergy. It would be a direct challenge to the Imperial Church, showing that the North was capable not only of military and economic might but also of spiritual leadership. Father Tuk's sermons, delivered from a new, impressive church, would gain even greater weight and influence.
Construction began immediately. Strong stone was brought from mountain quarries, and the best carpenters and woodcarvers worked tirelessly. Bells, cast from northern metal, were meant to carry their chime far beyond the principality's borders, heralding a new era. This church, erected under the patronage of the Lord of the North, was to become not just a place of worship, but a tangible embodiment of his growing power and a symbol that the North was no longer just a vassal state, but an independent force with its own spiritual and material centers. The Emperor, busy suppressing rebellions and counting his losses, did not yet know that while he was trying to save his empire, the Lord of the North was already building a new one—invisible, but far more durable.
The construction of Father Tuk's new church proceeded at full pace, reflecting not only his growing spiritual authority but also the unprecedented wealth and influence of the Lord of the North. This was not merely a building; it was a monument, constructed on a scale unimaginable in other regions of the Empire, which were exhausted by war and poverty.
The Lord of the North, as promised, spared no expense. Katya meticulously oversaw the supplies, ensuring an uninterrupted flow of materials unseen even in imperial projects. Marble with veins like ancient circulatory systems was delivered from the deepest quarries, gleaming in the sun. The forests of the North provided ancient oaks and cedars, their wood exuding a unique fragrance and perfect for massive beams and the most delicate carvings. Rare metals and precious stones, intended for the altar and stained-glass windows, arrived from distant lands through trusted smuggling channels.
But it was not only the materials that were first-class. On the order of the Lord of the North and under the supervision of Green, the best artists, sculptors, and stained-glass masters from across the Empire, and even from beyond its borders, were found and recruited through his network of agents. Many of them, who had previously worked for noble families, now flocked to the North, attracted by unheard-of fees and complete creative freedom.
The walls of the new church came alive under the artists' brushes. Frescoes depicting biblical scenes were painted with such depth and realism that it seemed the figures were about to step down from the walls. But among the traditional scenes, new, more ambiguous images were subtly woven in: a mighty yet merciful shepherd leading his people through darkness, and warriors fighting not for the imperial crown, but for the defense of their homes and faith. Only the most perceptive could detect the allusion to the Lord of the North and his Legion in these images, but the message was felt on a subconscious level.
The stained-glass windows, created using unique techniques brought from distant lands, filtered the light, painting the interior of the church in mystical, ever-changing colors. They reflected not only the faces of saints but also abstract patterns resembling the interweaving of mountains and rivers, the symbols of the North. Every part of the church was filled with details that spoke of meticulousness and grandeur. Carved benches of dark wood, silver-inlaid crosses, an altar shining with gold and gems—all of it created an atmosphere of indescribable reverence and awe.
Father Tuk, watching the construction, saw in it more than just the strengthening of his parish. It was a visible symbol of how the worldly power and wisdom of the Lord of the North were manifesting on a spiritual plane, attracting minds and hearts. The church of the Honey Mug was destined to become not just a local parish, but the center of a new, independent spirituality that could, in time, challenge the authority of the Imperial Church.
While the majestic spires of Father Tuk's new church rose into the heavens above the Honey Mug, passions flared in the Imperial capital over the terms set by the Lord of the North. The marshal had returned with a message that, for the Emperor, was not just a demand but a personal insult.
The Emperor was furious. He smashed the furniture in his chambers, his rage shaking the palace. "Give him control over trade?! Make his principality exempt from duties?! Never! This is humiliation! It is an admission of his power!" he screamed, pacing the hall. To him, it was tantamount to handing over a piece of his own crown to an upstart from the North.
However, reality was relentless. His generals reported daily on the growing number of rebellions, the defeats inflicted by the elusive Golden Legion, the emptying coffers, and desertions. The treasury was empty. Loyal vassals, seeing his weakness, were beginning to waver. Discontent was growing within the Church. The Empire was bleeding, and without those ten million gold pieces, without fresh troops, without any way to turn the tide, it could simply collapse.
The Emperor's advisors, fearing for their own heads, cautiously reminded him of the critical situation. "Your Majesty, the choice is not between pride and humiliation, but between the existence of the Empire and its complete collapse," one of the oldest advisors dared to say, bowing his head. "The duties from the North are but a small fraction of our income. If we lose control over the entire Empire, there will be no duties from anywhere."
Another added, "For now, Your Majesty, these terms only concern his lands. You will keep your throne, your army, your court. And later… when you have regained your strength…" (though everyone understood that "later" might never come).
The Emperor spent the entire night in agonizing contemplation, torn between pride and fear. He hated the Lord of the North, who so methodically and cold-bloodedly undermined his authority. He saw in him the living embodiment of his failure in the Sultanate and now, of his own weakness. But he was forced to admit that this northern wolf had cornered him.
At dawn, with a pale face and a vacant gaze, the Emperor made his decision. It was the decision not of a victor, but of a cornered monarch. "So be it!" he whispered, his voice full of bitterness. "Let the decree be drawn up. Let the whole world see my… my decision. But let the Lord of the North know that I will not forget this."
The imperial decree, affixed with his personal seal—heavy, golden, bearing the image of a two-headed eagle—was immediately dispatched to the North. It spoke of the Emperor's "great mercy," of a "temporary measure designed to stimulate trade," and of his "unwavering faith in the loyalty of the Lord of the North." But the true meaning of the decree was clear to all: the Emperor had yielded. He had effectively acknowledged the autonomy of the Lord of the North's trade routes and, more importantly, his financial superiority.
When the decree arrived at the Honey Mug, the Lord of the North merely gave a slight nod. He felt no triumph or elation. This was just another calculated step. The gold was immediately loaded and dispatched with the imperial emissary, who hastily departed.
Following the signing of the humiliating but vital decree, a magnificent caravan set out from the depths of the Honey Mug. This was not just a movement of cargo; it was a demonstration of strength, wealth, and a new, undeniable power. Ten million gold coins, packed in sturdy chests, formed a column that seemed endless. The caravan was truly grandiose.
Dozens of heavy wagons, each loaded to the brim, moved slowly but steadily. Their wheels, specially reinforced and iron-clad, left deep tracks on roads that had long been unaccustomed to such rich cargo. Each wagon was escorted by guards—elite fighters of the Lord of the North, clad in dark uniforms, their weapons gleaming in the sun.
News of the "golden stream" spread faster than the caravan itself. Residents of the villages and towns it passed through flocked to the streets to gaze upon this unprecedented spectacle. Their eyes burned with a mixture of wonder, envy, and hope. This gold was meant to save the Empire, but its source was far from the Emperor. Rumors of the immense wealth of the Lord of the North and his Honey Mug now had visible confirmation, solidifying his legend in the minds of the common people.
Finally, the caravan reached the capital. Its arrival caused a sensation. Ten million gold coins, unloaded onto the square before the imperial palace, glittered in the sun, blinding in their might. This was not just a loan; it was an open admission of the Emperor's financial dependence on the Lord of the North. Every chest, every coin, every gleaming arrow of the guards screamed of who was now the true master of wealth in this Empire.
The Emperor, watching this spectacle from his palace window, felt the demonstration of power pierce him like a dagger. He had received his money, yes. But its price was far higher than he could have imagined. This price was measured not only in duties but in lost authority, humiliation, and the realization that he was now indebted to his most dangerous and cunning "vassal." Gold flowed into his treasury, but with it, invisible threads of control infiltrated the Empire, binding it firmly to the Lord of the North's Honey Mug.
The arrival of the ten million gold coins breathed new life into the Emperor's depleted forces. With this colossal sum, he was able not only to pay the arrears to his troops but also to recruit new soldiers, provide them with better equipment, and, most importantly, restart the engine of war against the rebellious vassals. It seemed that the scales were beginning to tip back in his favor.
Infused with new strength, the imperial armies fell upon the pockets of rebellion with renewed ferocity. Where chaos and anarchy had previously reigned, the presence of centralized power was now felt. The Golden Legion, always operating with calculation, now retreated more often into the shadows, appearing only to support already weakened vassals, preventing the Emperor from achieving a quick and decisive victory but not provoking him into a full-scale war against the North. The Lord's strategy was subtle: allow the Emperor to expend his resources on suppression, but not let him fully regain control. It was a game of attrition, where the Emperor was paying for his own slow defeats.
During these months, while the Emperor was achieving his local successes, in the North, high in the mountains, the golden spires of Father Tuk's new church were already looming over the peaks, catching the first rays of the sun and reflecting them like guiding beacons. The construction was in full swing, and each day the monumental structure became more magnificent. The marble shone, the stained-glass windows shimmered with color, and the frescoes, created by the best artists, told stories of faith and strength, but now with a new, northern accent.
This church became not just a symbol of spirituality, but a tangible embodiment of the growing power of the Honey Mug. Its golden spires were visible from afar, rising above the misty valleys and sheer cliffs like a crown on the head of a new, unseen ruler. People who came to the Honey Mug on business or out of curiosity were amazed by its splendor. Stories of the Lord of the North's immense wealth and his concern for the spiritual needs of his people spread throughout the Empire, enhancing his reputation not only as a shrewd merchant but also as a wise and devout patron.
The Emperor, preoccupied with suppressing rebellions, likely paid little attention to these rumors. He saw only the temporary relief the gold had brought and was pleased to note that the situation was stabilizing. He was confident that he could now regain full control. He did not understand that every suppressed rebel, every garrison fortified on his orders, only deepened his dependence on the very money he had so reluctantly accepted. He was too focused on the immediate battle to see how slowly, but surely, his Empire was falling under the tacit financial and spiritual control of the Lord of the North.
While the Emperor, blinded by temporary success, spent the gold on suppressing rebellions, the Honey Mug continued to strengthen its position, now not only financially but also spiritually. Following the dusty trade caravans that brought the hard-earned ten million gold pieces to the Imperial capital, other processions began to travel along the new, duty-free routes—crowds of pilgrims.
The news of the new, majestic church, whose golden spires shone over the mountains of the North like a beacon of hope, spread through the Empire like wildfire. Father Tuk and his followers, skilled in the art of popular preaching, never missed an opportunity to speak of the miraculous House of God, erected in lands where the common people lived in prosperity and under the protection of a wise ruler. Stories of the beauty of the frescoes, the power of prayers in this new sanctuary, and the fact that even the Lord of the North himself revered the place inspired thousands.
Weakened by imperial taxes, exhausted by endless wars, and disillusioned with a Church that seemed to serve the throne more than its flock, people sought comfort and hope. And they found it in the rumors about the North. For many, a pilgrimage to the Honey Mug became an act not only of religious worship but also of quiet protest, an expression of hope for a better life. They journeyed toward the golden spires that symbolized a prosperity and grace the Emperor could no longer provide.
The roads, now free from imperial tolls, facilitated their travel, making the pilgrimage more accessible. This was another silent triumph for the Lord of the North. Every pilgrim who arrived at the Honey Mug not only left their money there, buying souvenirs or goods, but also carried away stories of the prosperous North, the generosity of its Lord, and the strength of his faith. These stories spread across the Empire, undermining the Emperor's authority even more than any rebellion.
Father Tuk, standing at the doors of his new, magnificent church, welcomed the pilgrims with open arms. He preached not only of spiritual salvation but also of the righteousness of labor, the importance of community, and the defense of one's lands. His words resonated in the hearts of people weary of imperial burdens. The church became not just a place of prayer, but a center for information gathering, a platform for exchanging news, where every pilgrim unwittingly became a messenger of the North's new ideology.
Green and Katya, as the architects of this financial dominance, rejoiced. Their system was flawless. Every flow of goods, every transaction, every merchant using the northern coin became part of their web. The Honey Mug had not just accumulated wealth—it had become the standard of wealth and stability.
The Lord of the North, observing all this, understood that his strategy had borne fruit. He was not destroying the Empire by force but was methodically draining its lifeblood, replacing its currency—its money—with his own, purer and stronger. The Emperor still sat on the throne, but his monarchy was now merely a facade. Real power, expressed in gold and trust, was firmly established in the North, within the impregnable halls of the Honey Mug.
Following the stable currency, the bonds issued by the Honey Mug gained increasing popularity. These were not mere IOUs; they were a meticulously designed instrument intended to attract capital and strengthen loyalty. Issued under the guarantee of the Honey Mug's immense wealth and backed by its unassailable reputation, they offered a high and, most importantly, guaranteed return. In a world where wars and instability wiped out savings, the Lord of the North's bonds became a bastion of reliability and profitable investment.
They were offered not only to major merchants and bankers but also to wealthy city dwellers, nobles tired of risky investments in imperial projects, and even guilds. Green's agents subtly hinted at their advantages: a fixed interest rate paid regularly, the ability to exchange them for pure northern gold at any time, and, of course, complete confidentiality of ownership. While the Emperor tried to squeeze the last drops from his subjects through taxes, the Lord of the North offered them the opportunity to grow their savings, essentially becoming investors in his thriving empire.
The money invested in the bonds was directed toward developing the North's infrastructure, supporting its trade routes, and financing projects that generated even greater profits. A portion of the funds, of course, was also used to continue indirect influence: supporting the Golden Legion and fueling local conflicts, which only increased instability in the Empire and made the North's bonds even more attractive against the backdrop of general chaos.
For many, purchasing these bonds became not just a financial transaction but an act of loyalty, or at least a sign of belonging to the new, prosperous elite associated with the Honey Mug. Owning the Lord of the North's bonds became a status symbol, indicating that the holder knew how to choose the winning side in an era of change.
Green and Katya masterfully managed this new financial instrument. They tracked all transactions, ensuring the flawless execution of bond obligations, which only enhanced their appeal. The trust that the Honey Mug had earned over many years was now being converted into capital flowing in from all over the Empire.
The Emperor, preoccupied with military campaigns and financial crises, may not have immediately realized the full scale of this new threat. He saw that money that could have gone into his treasury through taxes was flowing north as investments in bonds. He understood that control over financial flows was slipping from his grasp, but he could offer nothing to compete with the stability and returns offered by the Lord of the North. Thus, the Honey Mug not only became the financial capital of the Empire, but it also transformed into its central bank, whose coins and bonds became the new currency of power and influence, slowly but surely pulling financial and, consequently, political power over the entire world to itself.
The age of bonds, initiated by the Honey Mug, gained momentum with breathtaking speed. What began as an attractive financial instrument for wealthy investors quickly became the new standard for the entire business world of the Empire. Now, not only bankers and merchants but also more and more guilds recognized the benefits and security offered by the Lord of the North's bonds and actively switched to this method of payment.
The guilds of artisans, traders, builders, and miners all faced the instability of the imperial currency and the unreliability of the Emperor's debt obligations. They needed funds to purchase raw materials, pay masters' wages, and expand production. Imperial coins, whose value was constantly falling, created chaos in accounting and undermined trust in contracts.
The Honey Mug's bonds were the answer to these problems. Guilds began to use them as a form of payment for large orders, as collateral for loans, and as a means of preserving their savings. A master armorer who sold a batch of swords would gladly accept bonds instead of a pile of depreciating imperial coins. A builders' guild, having secured a major project, could purchase stone and timber by paying with bonds, which suppliers valued more than the Emperor's gold.
This triggered a chain reaction. To be able to accept or issue bonds as payment, guilds were forced to establish connections with the Honey Mug. This meant opening accounts in its bank, participating in its trade schemes, and sometimes even investing in its bonds. Thus, the Lord of the North received not only money but also invaluable information about the state of affairs in each guild, its resources, connections, and ambitions. Green meticulously collected this data, using it to further strengthen the North's influence.
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