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The Lord of the North, whose "invisible empire" had long remained in the shadows, was now ready to reveal his true power to the world. He decided the time had come to expand his influence not only through clandestine means but through visible, tangible symbols of his might.
The first step in this new era was the opening of "The Honey Mug" banks in the largest cities of the Empire. The gold coins of the Lord of the North had long become an unofficial second currency, a symbol of reliability and purity, an unshakable alternative to the state's minting. Now, it was time to give this reliability a physical form. Grin, his loyal advisor and master of intrigue, developed a detailed plan for this expansion.
Under the guise of large trading posts, new, seemingly ordinary establishments began to appear in the imperial capital, in the wealthy coastal cities, and even in the cities of the Western Marches—where the seeds of discontent with the Emperor had long been sown. But anyone who knew the true story understood: these were not just trading houses, but carefully disguised strongholds of the Lord's growing empire. These were not mere exchange offices, but full-fledged branches of "The Honey Mug."
Their facades were austere and imposing, designed in the recognizable style of the Lord's mountain fortress but without excessive pomp to avoid attracting the Emperor's unwanted attention. Inside, an atmosphere of security and calm prevailed. Enormous safes, built from his own designs, were as strong as those embedded in the rock of his main fortress. Experienced managers, trained by Katya—a master of personal control and transactional anonymity—greeted each client, promising to protect their secrets. It was a world where gold and secrets were of equal value, and trust was the most reliable currency.
Special attention was paid to the distribution of "The Honey Mug" bonds. These seemingly modest pieces of paper, offering a high and guaranteed return, quickly gained popularity among merchants, bankers, and guilds. They could be purchased and cashed in at every new branch, decisively pulling the Empire's financial flows under the control of the Lord of the North. His currency's exchange rate—two imperial coins for one northern coin—was now posted daily in a prominent place in every city, emphasizing the undeniable dominance of northern gold.
Thus, step by step, the Lord of the North built his power, laying a foundation not only on gold coins but also on trust and financial dependence. Father Tuk, with his mace at the ready, would sometimes personally visit the new branches, consecrating them and speaking with clients. His presence, as a pragmatic clergyman, not only lent legitimacy to the banks in the eyes of pious citizens but also served as a subtle hint of a growing spiritual authority that was undermining the Imperial Church.
The Emperor, preoccupied with fighting rebels who were often financed by the very same gold, paid little attention to the emergence of these "private banks." He saw them merely as another manifestation of economic activity, unaware that every gold coin, every exchange rate, and every bond sold was another brick in the foundation of the Lord of the North's invisible empire, which was steadily consuming his own power.
In the restless Empire, the branches of "The Honey Mug" came to be known as the "Golden Shields" for their reliability and gold backing. Merchants, fearing imperial duties and general instability, preferred to keep their funds and conduct transactions through these banks, which guaranteed security and anonymity. The Lord of the North was not just attracting new clients—he was luring away old ones by offering terms unimaginable for the impoverished imperial treasury. In this way, his empire was strengthened not only by force but also by the trust of those weary of uncertainty and chaos.
The opening of "The Honey Mug" banks was only the first step in the Lord of the North's strategy of indirect influence. Now that his "Golden Shields" had begun to attract significant financial flows, ensuring their security became a top priority. He understood perfectly that a visible, albeit subtle, demonstration of strength was necessary to maintain trust and deter potential threats.
Small but elite units were assigned to each "Golden Shield" branch. These were mainly fighters from the "Black Company"—the Lord’s line infantry, renowned for their discipline and silent efficiency. Their presence, though inconspicuous at first glance, radiated an aura of unshakeable strength. These warriors, hardened in battle and trained not only in combat but also in covert observation, were ideal for the delicate task of guarding financial centers.
For more remote branches, as well as for escorting particularly valuable cargo like gold and bonds, the Lord deployed the "Life-Hussars"—his mobile cavalry. Their speed and unpredictability made them perfect for swift raids and for intercepting even the most audacious bandits. The modified firearm—a heavy pistol—that the Lord himself used as a surprising and devastating argument in critical situations, also found its place in the arsenal of certain trusted security officers. It provided overwhelming superiority in a direct confrontation, making the defense of the "Golden Shields" practically impenetrable.
Grin, the Lord's brilliant advisor and master of intrigue, was responsible for coordinating the security units and gathering intelligence on potential threats. His spy network operated actively in the cities, identifying any suspicious movements or plots against the banks. He used his connections with the Thieves' Guild to obtain information from the most unexpected sources, staying ahead of any enemy plans.
Father Tuk, the Lord's secret agent within the Church, also played his part. His presence in the cities, under the pretext of spreading ideas about a strong and wise leader, allowed him to gather rumors and gauge the mood among the common people, identifying potential sources of discontent or planned crimes. His heavy, iron-bound mace, while not the primary weapon for bank security, served as a reminder of the hidden power that was always nearby.
Thus, each "Golden Shield" became an impregnable fortress, providing not only financial but also physical security for the Lord's assets and clients. His iron fist, hidden in the velvet glove of economic power, continued to strengthen the invisible empire, causing the Emperor and his circle to sink deeper into the illusion of control, while true power steadily flowed into "The Honey Mug."
The foresight and strategic genius of the Lord of the North continued to bear fruit. He managed to weave together two key components of his growing empire: duty-free trade and the "Golden Shields" network. This was no mere coincidence but a carefully crafted plan designed to permanently undermine the Emperor's economic control and establish absolute dominance.
The Emperor, finding himself in a desperate financial situation, was forced to agree to the complete and irrevocable exemption of all the Lord's trade routes from imperial duties and taxes—forever. This became an official recognition of his economic autonomy and the beginning of the end for the Emperor's financial control.
Now that every good passing through the principality or delivered by the Lord's caravans was free from burdensome fees, "The Honey Mug" became a magnet for all merchants in the Empire. His "Golden Shields," located in key cities, became the natural extension of this duty-free trade network. Merchants, attracted by the lack of taxes and the guaranteed security of the routes, flocked to him. They no longer had to find back ways or risk their goods trying to evade imperial tax collectors. Now they could conduct their business openly and legally, knowing their profits would not be burdened by exorbitant taxes.
It was in the "Golden Shields" that merchants could not only safely store their income but also convert it into the Lord's gold coins, which had become the dominant currency with an exchange rate of 2 imperial coins for 1 northern coin. This rendered the imperial currency second-rate and further solidified the financial monopoly of "The Honey Mug." Moreover, the "Golden Shields" offered the opportunity to invest in "The Honey Mug" bonds, which provided high and guaranteed returns. These "unassuming pieces of paper" became the new standard for large transactions and investments, decisively pulling the Empire's financial flows under his control.
The Lord knew that duty-free trade and the "Golden Shields" network had already laid a solid foundation. Now it was time to create something that would not just be an economic center, but a symbol of his lands' prosperity and reliability, a place where all the threads of shadow trade converged. The idea of grand fairs in the North, despite the frost, initially seemed like madness to many. However, he, the Lord of the North, understood that this very uniqueness would create a legend around them.
The Lord personally oversaw the preparations. Along the Mountain Silk Road, the safest and most efficient trade route, temporary yet sturdy and heated pavilions were erected. Heating stations were organized, hot food and drinks were provided, and accommodations were secured for merchants and their caravans. Tamed wolves patrolled the approaches to the fairs, scaring away strangers and strengthening his legend. Mobile branches of the "Golden Shields" were set up right on the fairgrounds. To attract the public, all sorts of entertainment were organized, from winter sports competitions to performances by traveling artists. Frightening myths about the Lord as a necromancer with his tamed wolves were spread, which, strangely enough, only fueled interest and attracted the curious.
Despite the cold, the Northern fairs exceeded all expectations. Merchants flocked there, drawn not only by duty-free trade and the opportunity to exchange imperial currency for stable northern gold but also by absolute security. The risks were minimal, and the profits were maximal. The gold coins and bonds of "The Honey Mug" became the standard for major deals, completely redirecting the Empire's financial flows. The Emperor, busy with his endless wars and a depleted treasury, received only fragmented reports about the "strange northern fairs." He did not realize that these winter gatherings had become the most powerful engine of the Lord's invisible empire, strengthening his power and the trust in "The Honey Mug" not just as a fortress-bank, but as the true financial heart of the Empire. These fairs became further confirmation that the Lord's vision and strategic genius had transformed a modest enterprise into a prosperous principality, the shadow heart of the entire Empire.
The Lord of the North's insight into human nature and economic psychology proved to be unprecedented. Initially conceived as biannual events—the more accessible summer fairs and the harsher winter ones—the fairs achieved unexpected and phenomenal success precisely during the cold season.
The summer fairs, of course, attracted merchants. Mild weather and easy roads facilitated the convenient and unhindered arrival of caravans. But it was the winter fairs that became a true legend, acquiring supreme popularity and a mystical aura. Paradoxically, their difficult accessibility turned out to be their greatest asset. Heavy snows, piercing winds, and the general hardships of winter travel filtered out casual traders and those seeking easy profit. Those who dared to make the journey were serious merchants, ready to risk for unheard-of returns. For them, it was not just a trade route but a kind of pilgrimage to the source of wealth and reliability. Their very presence at a winter fair was a sign of their status and courage.
The myths of the necromancer Lord and his tamed wolves patrolling the snowy passes gained a special poignancy in winter. The chilling cold and the majestic silence of the snow-covered mountains only amplified these stories, turning the journey to "The Honey Mug" into a mystical adventure. The "Legion of the Dead" detachment, standing silently guard in the snows, struck terror into enemies and inspired reverent awe in allies.
Winter heightened all dangers. Bandits became more desperate, and imperial patrols less effective. Under these conditions, the Lord of the North's ability to ensure the complete safety of trade caravans and the fairs themselves became even more impressive. His "Death Squads"—the "Life-Hussars" on their hardy steeds and the "Black Company" in their kilts, despite the frost—demonstrated flawless discipline and combat readiness, proving that his protection worked under any conditions. Heavy pistols, modified for use in the cold, provided a sudden and crushing firepower advantage.
Thus, the Lord of the North did not just organize successful fairs. He turned natural obstacles into his advantages, creating a unique event that affirmed his power, strengthened his legend, and definitively established "The Honey Mug" as the undisputed financial and trade center of the Empire, surpassing even the capital in significance. The winter fairs became his triumph, proof that even the harshest frost is no threat to those who command gold and true power.
The Lord of the North's strategy for consolidating power continued to reveal its multifaceted nature. In addition to economic expansion and military demonstrations, he did not neglect spiritual influence, and here, Father Tuk's Church played a key role. Much like the winter fairs, it was during the cold season that the Church gained special significance, attracting an unprecedented number of pilgrims.
Father Tuk, the pragmatic clergyman and the Lord's secret agent, had managed to develop a unique doctrine that resonated in the hearts of the faithful. He preached that true faith is demonstrated not on easy paths but through overcoming hardship. The journey to the Church at "The Honey Mug" in winter came to be seen as a true pilgrimage, a test of spirit and body. Pilgrims who overcame snowdrifts and piercing winds believed their suffering purified their souls and brought them closer to the divine.
While the Imperial Church was associated with the weakening Emperor and his problems, Father Tuk's Church in "The Honey Mug" shone like a beacon of hope and stability. Pilgrims, exhausted by the hardships of life under the imperial yoke, sought comfort and protection. For them, the church in the Lord's fortress-bank was not just a place of prayer but a sanctuary where they could find moral support and sometimes real help from Father Tuk, who, in addition to his sermons, used his knowledge of herbal medicine and basic field medicine to help the afflicted.
Every pilgrim who made it to "The Honey Mug" in winter returned home with stories of unseen prosperity, of an impregnable mountain fortress, of golden treasures, and, of course, of the powerful Lord of the North and his tamed wolves. These tales, mixed with Father Tuk's sermons about the great patron of the North, only strengthened his mystical aura and eroded the last remnants of the Emperor's authority.
Father Tuk skillfully used these gatherings of pilgrims. His sermons, filled with unwavering faith, not only inspired believers but also subtly yet persistently instilled ideas favorable to the Lord's power. He spoke of a righteous ruler who cares for his people, of wisdom that leads to prosperity, and of strength that protects from darkness—all of which, of course, was associated with the Lord of the North. His presence, with his heavy mace often adorned with modest church symbols, was not only a symbol of strength but also a reminder of his pragmatic approach.
Father Tuk, the pragmatic clergyman and the Lord's secret agent, would sometimes go out himself to meet the pilgrims on the coldest, harshest nights. These encounters became legends, spreading like wildfire among the faithful. When the frost gripped the land, when snowdrifts threatened to swallow travelers, and when even the most courageous merchants preferred to stay within the warm walls of "The Honey Mug," Father Tuk, clad in a humble but warm cassock, would appear on the snowy mountain paths like a phantom or a heavenly sign.
He did not just wait for the pilgrims in a warm church. He went to meet them, bringing not only spiritual warmth but also physical aid. His heavy, iron-bound mace, often adorned with modest church symbols, served as his support in the snowdrifts, and his strong hands helped exhausted travelers to their feet. His deep, warming voice, speaking words of encouragement and prayer, cut through the howling wind, instilling hope and strength in the hearts of the freezing pilgrims. Father Tuk used his knowledge of herbal medicine and basic field medicine to quickly assist those suffering from frostbite or exhaustion. Hot tea made from mountain herbs, a few words of comfort, sometimes even a small blanket from the Church's stores, became a priceless gift for the pilgrims, a symbol of true care.
These personal encounters with Father Tuk during the harshest moments of their journey not only strengthened the pilgrims' faith in God but also deepened their devotion to the Church of "The Honey Mug" and, invisibly, to the Lord of the North. In their eyes, Father Tuk was not just a priest but a true shepherd who was not afraid to share their hardships. He became the living embodiment of their faith, proof that "The Honey Mug" was home not only to material but also to spiritual abundance.
Every pilgrim fortunate enough to meet Father Tuk on a frosty night returned home with a fervent heart, spreading news of the miraculous encounter. These stories, passed by word of mouth, created an aura of sanctity and wonder around the Church of "The Honey Mug." They undermined the last crumbs of trust in the Imperial Church, which seemed cold and soulless in comparison to Father Tuk's vibrant compassion.
The strategy of gradually absorbing the Emperor's power reached new heights. As Father Tuk's Church in "The Honey Mug" gained ever-increasing popularity, especially thanks to his selfless encounters with pilgrims in the winter cold, the Imperial Church, tied to a weakening and impoverished throne, could no longer ignore this growing source of influence.
The Imperial Church, under pressure from a depleted treasury and a loss of authority, was forced to recognize Father Tuk's influence. They watched as pilgrims flocked to "The Honey Mug," bringing with them not only faith but, more importantly for the Empire, money. Attempts to counteract this flow came to nothing. The people trusted the "pragmatic clergyman" of the North more than the pompous but empty sermons of the imperial hierarchs.
In a desperate attempt to regain some influence and perhaps redirect a portion of the wealth being generated around Father Tuk's Church, the Imperial Church decided to take a step that, by their calculation, was meant to be an act of reconciliation and integration. They hoped that by bestowing a new, high rank upon Father Tuk, they could control him and his flock, as well as gain access to a share of the financial streams now firmly associated with "The Honey Mug."
After long deliberations and backroom negotiations (in which Grin undoubtedly played his part, skillfully guiding them to the desired decision), the Imperial Church bestowed upon Father Tuk a new spiritual rank: Archbishop of the North. The title of Archbishop was significant. It made Father Tuk the head of the entire church hierarchy in the northern lands, granting him formal authority over all parishes and priests in the region. It also gave him a seat on the high council of the Imperial Church, which, by the Emperor's design, was supposed to give them influence over the decisions of Father Tuk and his followers.
For the Imperial Church, this was an attempt to "tame" Father Tuk's growing influence. They hoped they could now tax the streams of pilgrims, control the sermons, and return some of the "lost" gold to the imperial treasury. They saw it as an act of magnanimity and an attempt to unify the Church, not understanding that they were only strengthening the invisible empire.
Father Tuk accepted the rank with the humility befitting his pragmatic nature. He held no lavish celebrations, only delivering a sermon on serving God and the people, which further solidified his popularity among the pilgrims. His mace, now an archepiscopal one, continued to stand by the altar, symbolizing his unwavering connection to the common folk.
In a spacious but still cozy study in "The Honey Mug," where the firelight cast golden flickers on a massive table, the Lord of the North sat across from Father Tuk. His usually stern face, etched by winds and worries, now looked slightly more solemn, though he tried to hide it behind his usual pragmatic mask. Next to the table, leaning against the wall, stood his famous mace, now seeming to glow with a new, subtle light.
The Lord poured him a strong northern wine, giving him time to gather his thoughts before speaking.
"Archbishop of the North," he said, glancing at the Spear of Longinus in the corner. "A rather impressive title for a man who prefers a cassock and a mace."
Father Tuk grunted, carefully taking the mug. "A title, my Lord, is just words. What matters is what stands behind them. In their desperate attempt to hold on to slipping power, the Imperial Church has granted me this rank. They think they've tied me to their dogmas, that now they can control the flow of pilgrims and gold. Fools."
He took a sip of wine, his gaze remaining sharp and perceptive. "They only see the surface. They see the crowds that flock to us, see their own treasury emptying while our 'Honey Mug' prospers. But they don't understand the real reasons. They don't see the faith that drives these people through frost and snow. They don't understand that every pilgrim I helped, every sermon, every word of comfort on a freezing night—it is not service to the Empire. It is service to the people, my Lord. And through this service, I strengthen our faith."
Tuk paused, looking intently at the Lord. "They gave me a title to subordinate me. But they got an archbishop who serves not their interests, but the will of the people. And through the people—you."
He placed the mug on the table, and his eyes met the Lord's. "Their hope that I will become their puppet is futile. My mace will always strike for those who need it, and my sermons will carry the truth that benefits us. This rank only opens new doors, my Lord. Now that I officially head the Church in the North, it will be easier for me to introduce our ideas, spread our wisdom, and undermine their authority from within. And, of course, to legitimize even more of our... charitable contributions." A hint of irony touched his voice on the last words.
"So, you are pleased, Archbishop?" the Lord inquired, watching his reaction.
"Pleased with the result, my Lord," Father Tuk replied, stroking the shaft of his mace. "The Emperor and his Church have handed us a most powerful tool themselves. We can use it to bind the people even more tightly to 'The Honey Mug,' to its prosperity, and, most importantly, to its true patron."
He raised his mug, nodding slightly toward the Lord. "To 'The Honey Mug,' my Lord. And to our invisible empire, which is now becoming ever more tangible."
"Then, perhaps we should build a cathedral for the Archbishop?" the Lord proposed, taking a sip of his wine. His eyes watched Father Tuk's reaction carefully.
Tuk thought for a moment. His usually pragmatic face was illuminated by an inner light. "A cathedral, my Lord?" he murmured, as if tasting the word. "Not just a large church, but a cathedral?"
Surprise mixed with reverence was in his voice. He, a man who had avoided excess and pomposity his entire life, understood the symbolic power of such a structure.
"A cathedral indeed," the Lord confirmed. "Not just for the pilgrims who brave the frost, but for all who seek true light. A cathedral that will rise above 'The Honey Mug,' visible for many miles. A symbol of our faith, our strength, and our prosperity."
Father Tuk nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the window, where snow-covered peaks were visible. "It will be a challenge. A challenge to the Imperial Church, which has not built anything grand for a long time. A challenge to their claims of exclusivity. They will be jealous, my Lord. They will scream of sacrilege and heresy."
He paused, then smirked. "And that is exactly what we need. Let them scream. Every word they utter will only draw more attention to our cathedral, to our strength. And the people will see for themselves where true faith lies, and where there are only empty words."
The Lord knew this decision would strengthen his power even more. Archbishop Tuk's cathedral would become not only a spiritual center but also an architectural marvel, attracting the attention of the entire Empire and beyond, definitively cementing the North's status not merely as an autonomous principality, but as a new spiritual capital capable of eclipsing the old one.
That same night, as the cold northern winds howled outside the fortress windows and the fire in the hearth cast cozy shadows across the bedroom, he turned to Katya. Her hair, spread across the pillow, shimmered in the flickering light. He knew that she, more than anyone, would understand the grandeur of his idea.
"Katya," he said softly, holding her closer. "We are going to build a cathedral. For Father Tuk. The Cathedral of the North."
Instantly, her eyes flew open. At first, they held surprise, which then gave way to a bright, burning enthusiasm. She propped herself up on an elbow, looking at him with admiration.
"A cathedral?" she whispered, her voice ringing with delight. "Our own cathedral? That... that is amazing, my Lord! It's exactly what we need! It's not just a church, it's a symbol! A symbol that 'The Honey Mug' is not just about money and a fortress. It's about faith. It's the future!"
Her eyes burned with anticipation. "Can you imagine, my Lord? It will stand high above everything, visible for many miles! It will attract even more pilgrims, more merchants, more gold! Everyone will see that here in the North, we have not only the strongest army and the most reliable banks, but also the purest faith. And the Emperor... he will look at it and choke on his envy!"
She pressed against him, her breathing quickened. "The Cathedral of the North! It's magnificent! We will make it the most beautiful, the most majestic. It will shine like a beacon even on the coldest nights. And everyone who sees it will understand that true power, true strength, and true prosperity are here, in 'The Honey Mug.'"
Katya fell silent for a moment, then her gaze became more calculating. "And you know what, my Lord? This cathedral will become more than a spiritual center. We can make it part of our system. Imagine—pilgrims come to pray and, at the same time, leave their savings in our 'Golden Shields' right at the cathedral. Security, faith, and prosperity—all in one place."
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