NoveLight ™
“So… so that’s why you pretended to be neutral, Elisha von Havana!”
Upon reflection, the Marchioness had been unusually close to the Crown Prince even before her marriage.
Especially during balls, hunting expeditions, and swordsmanship lessons, there seemed to be an odd frequency with which the Crown Prince and the Marchioness exchanged glances.
At the time, Entir had dismissed it, thinking their familiarity stemmed from their familial ties and the fact that they had grown up together.
When blinded by love, everything is interpreted as one pleases.
The notion that the Crown Prince and the Marchioness might have been having an affair was a nightmare so terrifying that it was unthinkable to the man reveling in the sweet dream of his honeymoon.
“The way she insisted on intimacy every time she returned from the Imperial Palace…!”
The Marquis and Marchioness of Havana did not typically have a close marital relationship.
On the rare occasions they were intimate, it happened either during their honeymoon or whenever the Marchioness returned from the Imperial Palace.
“All this time… I was…”
As all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, Entir woke up from his dream. The happiness he had cherished transformed into a nightmare of reality.
“Arghhh!”
He despaired and screamed in agony.
“Aaaah…”
What made it worse was that even after uncovering the truth, even with justice and facts on his side, he was utterly powerless to act.
His adversaries were none other than the Empire’s Swordmaster and the Crown Prince, while he was nothing more than a nouveau riche merchant with a lot of money.
If he brought this matter to light, it wouldn’t just be a case of insulting the Imperial family; his wife would undoubtedly kill him before that happened.
“…”
Entir became a walking corpse, wasting away day by day.
The Havana March was located in the warm and bountiful southern regions of the Empire, but to him, it was suffocating and cold.
Facing children every day who didn’t share a drop of his blood while forcing a smile was suffocating enough. Having to bow before his wife when they occasionally crossed paths was downright horrific.
“I will be deployed to the western border. I expect to be there for about two years.”
“Deployed? To the border?”
“With the Emperor’s collapse, it seems Bedonheim, the capital of the Kingdoms’ Alliance, is preparing to make a move.”
“Well, there’s no helping it. Safe travels.”
“Please take care of the supplies while I’m away, dear.”
“Supplies? Isn’t that the Imperial court’s responsibility?”
“You know how inadequate the Imperial supplies can be.”
“...Of course.”
Then, an opportunity arose.
The Emperor had collapsed from old age, and the Kingdoms’ Alliance began stirring, sensing their chance.
In Bedonheim, the capital of the Alliance, couriers and carrier pigeons moved so frequently it was impossible to count them all.
The western territories of the Empire fell into disarray.
As regent, the Crown Prince requested the Marchioness of Havana to take command of the western expedition, and she readily accepted.
“I’ll be leaving now.”
“Safe travels. Take care of yourself.”
Thus, the wife he hated and feared the most in the world left for the battlefield.
Entir felt as though he could finally breathe freely for the first time in years.
“While she’s gone, this is my chance!”
He didn’t waste any time.
He identified the branches of his merchant guild that had not yet been seized by his in-laws and removed their influence from them.
Despite the sudden personnel changes, his wife’s family didn’t voice any complaints. The new posts they were assigned to, located in the Imperial Capital and the southern regions of the Empire, were far too lucrative to protest.
Thus, Entir quietly and swiftly began preparing for independence.
“The heavens are on my side! To think the head of the Imperial Sigma Organization has been purged! And the Mongar Orcs have risen again!”
He even began laying the groundwork for revenge.
He slowly started recruiting nobles who harbored grudges against the Imperial family.
Thanks to the disarray within Sigma, the Empire’s intelligence organization, he was able to establish his forces without being noticed.
The absence of Archduke Doom, who had left the Imperial Palace to subjugate the Mongar Orcs, also worked in his favor.
“Revenge! I’ll get my revenge! I’ll make those bastards pay!”
But he needed more time.
He didn’t know when his wife would return after quelling the disturbances at the border.
If she returned to the territory, she would immediately realize what was happening.
The anti-Imperial forces he had painstakingly built would also be eradicated in no time once Archduke Doom returned.
And if the Crown Prince ascended the throne, revenge would become an even more distant dream.
“More wealth! Stronger forces! Greater influence!”
Just a little more! Just a little longer!
Entir staked his life on preparing.
Then, one day—
“Arad Salt? You’re saying the North has started producing spices?!”
Rumors began to reach him, stirring his merchant instincts.
“Mary’s Blessing? A fertilizer that enables farming in the harsh cold of the North?!”
The rumors kept coming.
“I’ve never seen such beautiful porcelain! And it’s durable, too? They made this in the North?!”
With a perfect excuse to leave in hand, he didn’t hesitate to depart from the Havana March.
“This is perfect. Truly perfect.”
Facing children who shared no blood with him daily had become torture, and the opportunity to leave this suffocating place was a godsend.
Thus, like a bee drawn to flowers, Entir headed north.
***
The largest city in the mid-north of the Empire, the Emperor's direct domain—Solasis.
Inside a building housing a branch of the Bishop Merchant Guild.
“You’re not ordinary adventurers, are you?”
Entir scrutinized the adventurers standing before him with sharp, penetrating eyes.
The atmosphere in the room was heavy and tense.
He sat alone, while the trio of adventurers stood before him, almost as if encircling him. The six mercenaries meant to guard him lay unconscious on the floor.
“What do you want? Money? Or is this some elaborate way of proving your skills so I’ll hire you as my guards?”
Despite the unfavorable circumstances, Entir remained composed, exuding an air of confidence.
“Click, click, click. But it’s all so sloppy,” he continued, clicking his tongue.
“You wear necklaces to prove your affiliation with the Church, your attire is carefully crafted to mimic that of Imperials, and your speech does a decent job imitating the Central dialect. But you can’t fool my eyes. You’re Northerners, aren’t you?”
There are three main ways to distinguish Northerners from Imperials:
“…”
“…”
“…”
The three adventurers didn’t react to his observations. Their expressions remained unreadable.
“No, no,” Entir mused. “I need to correct myself. You’re neither ordinary adventurers nor ordinary Northerners.”
After a brief moment of tense silence, he shrugged and smiled faintly.
“Let me tell you something. My wife happens to be quite skilled herself. Despite my inability to sense mana or wield a sword, I’ve picked up a sense for these things. You’re not average. If you were adventurers, you’d easily be at least A-rank.”
His lips curved into a small smile, but his eyes betrayed growing unease as he spoke.
“Judging by everything, you’re probably from Renslet. Could it be the infamous Frostblade? I didn’t expect someone in my branch here to have such a connection. Have I let them stay in Solasis for too long?”
The men who had sought him out exhibited not only the telltale signs of Northerners but also something more—details that a man like Entir, whose instincts surpassed even Swordmasters when it came to money and people, could not miss.
“So, why have you come to see me? How did you know I’d be here?”
Entir prepared himself to summon every guard in the building if necessary. However, he doubted even the entire staff could overpower the three before him.
“I hear life hasn’t been kind to you lately, Entir. Between your wife and children, it seems things are rather difficult.”
One of the Northerners, an older adventurer, finally spoke.
“…How?”
Entir’s expression hardened at the man’s words, the faint smile disappearing from his lips.
“How do you know about my situation?”
What shocked Entir wasn’t that they knew his identity. It was that they were aware of his private affairs—details known only to himself, his wife, and a select few in the Imperial family.
“We have eyes and ears, of course. And a bit of divine providence from our fervent ancestors.”
“The Frostblade’s intelligence network is more formidable than I imagined.”
The older man smirked, tearing the necklace from his neck—a symbol of the Imperial Church. It was no longer necessary.
“They say to understand someone truly, you should look at their circumstances rather than their words.”
“Not wrong. Who said that?”
“A certain clever young man from the North, I believe.”
“A young man, you say? Promising indeed.”
“To that end, allow me to show you this.”
The older adventurer drew a dagger.
For the first time, Entir flinched. There was no one left in the room to take that blade for him—his guards were all unconscious.
“Look closely.”
Goooooooom.
An intense aura emanated from the dagger.
A dark blue energy, so vivid it seemed to freeze the space around it.
The air turned sharp and biting, as though it could slice skin just by existing.
This cold, razor-sharp energy was the exact opposite of the fiery aura belonging to the woman Entir hated most in the world—his wife.
“A Sword… Master…?”
Northerners. A Swordmaster. A cold, cutting aura. And an elderly man.
Piecing together the situation before him, Entir arrived at the only plausible conclusion.
“The Frostblade Demon of the North… Balzac?!”
“Shhh.”
“What brings a figure of your caliber here…?”
Despite their disdain for Northerners, Imperials made one exception: the Northern knights.
Even the most prideful Imperials acknowledged their skill and valor.
And here stood the pinnacle of Northern knights, the Swordmaster Balzac, before him.
“So, what do you think? Do you feel ready to have an honest conversation now?”
“!!”
Entir’s eyes lit up—not just with shock, but with burning desire. A desire that transformed into an almost euphoric anticipation.
***
It might seem absurd, but let’s compare the currency of this world—gold coins, silver coins, and coopers—to South Korea’s won.
Using the context of 100 years ago in the era of Silver Age 2 and focusing on the North as a reference point, let’s make the comparison.
By this equivalence:
For transactions involving values smaller than one cooper, barter trade is commonly used, or coins are physically cut into pieces.
Of course, this is just a forced equivalence for perspective.
Additionally, in the setting of the game Silver Age 1, set 100 years later in an arcane-punk world, the value of currency drops to one-tenth of its current rate. With advancements in alchemy and metallurgy, coins become more abundant, and the value of one cooper decreases to 1,000 won by Earth’s standards. During that era, enchanted banknotes also begin to appear sporadically.
Currently, in the North, a bowl of stew is traded for one cooper. By Earth’s measure, that’s equivalent to a bowl of soup priced at 10,000 won.
Considering that a low-level adventurer in the North earns about 3–5 coopers per day, the economic conditions here aren’t great.
However, when you factor in the brutal cold, Imperial neglect, and the “savage” stigma tied to the Northern lands, the situation takes on a different perspective.
Even before I was thrust into this world, the North maintained an economy at roughly this level.
Given the adversity these lands face, sustaining this kind of economy is quite impressive. Even on Earth in the 21st century, managing such economic stability would be no easy feat.
Just think about countries on Earth where people toil all day only to afford a single can of soda. By comparison, the North is doing quite well.
So why am I bringing all this up now?
“Is today payday?”
“Yes, boss.”
The stabilized economy of Renslet has played a big part in allowing me to run my business as smoothly as I do now.
“Are the silver coins and coopers ready? Last time, we had plenty of gold coins, but there was chaos because we didn’t have enough silver coins.”
“Of course. We released part of the celadon stock, so now we have more silver coins than we know what to do with.”
“Let’s go, then. When else do I get to show my face to all the employees if not on payday?”
“Hahaha! I’ll lead the way!”
Guided by Chief Manager Tay, I headed to the warehouse located in the Arad Industrial Complex.
The warehouse, where the gold and silver coins were stored, was surrounded by knights and soldiers maintaining strict vigilance.
Inside and outside, every corner was fortified with security spells and barriers I had crafted in collaboration with the witches.
“Have you arrived?”
“Mary, is everything ready?”
Standing at the warehouse entrance, Mary and the staff awaited me.
“Yes. We just finished calculating the performance bonuses.”
“Just in time.”
“If it weren’t for this abacus, we’d have been in serious trouble.”
“Distribute the pay.”
“Yes, sir!”
Mary handed me the finalized documents.
“Director Jin? Shall we open the doors now?”
“Please do.”
“Girls! Open the doors!”
Alongside Mary and the staff, the witches stood at the entrance to the warehouse.
[“Open sesame! Gold, appear!”]
The witches began chanting spells to unlock the warehouse’s barriers.
“Weekly wages felt strange at first, but now that we’ve stuck with it, it’s working out quite well,” Tay remarked, filling the silence as we waited for the barrier to open.
“It’s beneficial for the employees too. Getting paid frequently must feel like receiving a fortune. Speaking of which, Tay, you were a knight. Isn’t this sort of thing familiar to you?”
“Uh… What I meant was, it’s nice to receive wages weekly instead of monthly.”
“Ah, so it’s the opposite of what I assumed.”