The towering and immense Ragwight Great Wall, stretching across the fallen eastern territories of the Empire, was awe-inspiring in its size.

And yet, it inevitably had its weak points—small, inconspicuous gaps that neither the intricate alarm spells nor the protective wards embedded into the wall could fully cover.

For mercenaries who lived with the constant uncertainty of danger, such weak points were invaluable.

They served as secret passageways, perfect for smuggling loot or conducting covert trades.

When none existed, they would create one by any means necessary.

"Wait, was this passage always this wide?"

"This is big enough for a wagon to barely squeeze through, Captain."

"Something feels off... Hamel, Dane, how are they doing?"

"The bleeding’s stopped for now, but their mercenary days are over."

"Damn bastards! I swear, I’ll never work near the Great Wall again!"

"We should’ve just killed them all or chopped off their limbs, Captain."

"You idiot, if we’d done that, we’d all have been executed!"

Grinding his teeth, Carpe glanced back at the two wounded subordinates inside the wagon.

"Hamel, Dane, you hanging in there? How does it feel to meet your ancestors so soon, huh?"

Inside the wagon lay two mercenaries from the Red Wolf Company, one missing an arm and the other a leg.

"Just leave us behind already…"

"Captain, it’s been fun working with you."

"Shut up."

After confirming the pale faces of his injured men, Carpe ordered his group to proceed through the gap in the wall.

"It feels off, but we don’t have a choice. The trackers will catch up soon if we delay."

"Understood."

Though the unease lingered, Carpe and the mercenaries had no better option. They moved into the hidden passageway.

"This passage is too big. Was there an earthquake recently?"

"It looks way too deliberate to be natural."

"Are there other smugglers using this route? Damn amateurs. They need to know when to stop."

"Well, it works in our favor. We won’t even need to unload the injured from the wagon to get through."

Despite her words, Carpe clicked her tongue repeatedly as they moved deeper into the passage.

"When the orcs find out about this, they’ll raise hell. Tsk, tsk…"

"Should we inform the Imperial Army?"

"Why bother? They’ll find it themselves when they follow our tracks."

Just as they were about to finish crossing through the gap in the wall—

"Hold up! Someone’s there!"

"You! Who are you?"

"Everyone, prepare for battle!"

Carpe and her Red Wolves quickly raised their weapons, shouting at the figures ahead.

They could sense that whoever was waiting for them was no ordinary opponent.

"Not just anyone could manage to block us here…!"

"Adventurers? But these guys are far too skilled for that!"

"The ones who widened this passage… it must’ve been them!"

Five men stood before them, dressed as adventurers, but their presence was anything but ordinary.

"Carpe, the Mercenary King, and the Red Wolf Company, correct?"

One of the five, who appeared to be their leader, finally spoke.

"…You’re from the North, aren’t you?"

From his accent and tone, Carpe and her thirty mercenaries immediately identified who they were dealing with.

Though their clothing and appearance disguised their northern origins, the deliberate use of a northern accent made their intentions clear.

"That’s right. We’re here to escort you."

The Frost Blade Knights—elite warriors of the North—responded indifferently and began to lead the way.

"Wait, how did you know we’d be coming here?"

Carpe, still wary, didn’t lower her guard as she questioned them.

In response, the Frost Blade Knight merely pointed toward the sky.

Tweet!

A pure white winter hawk soared gracefully overhead.

***

The Northern Territories had become increasingly restrictive for Imperial citizens.

Unlike in the past, Imperial merchants and adventurers could no longer travel freely across the North.

"Here’s our certificate proving we’ve faithfully paid taxes to High Fortress! Escort us like before, please!"

"Denied."

"Why?!"

"Some of your merchants might be Imperial spies. The wrongs they’ve committed are too many to count."

"This is unjust! We have no ties to any Imperial spies!"

"It doesn’t matter. Trade is only permitted here in Haven."

"Double! We’ll pay double the usual escort fee!"

"Still no."

The Imperial presence was confined strictly to Haven, the border town between the North and the Empire.

Imperial merchants would offer goods such as food, silk, clothing, and glass in Haven. Northern merchants would then purchase these items and transport them deeper into the North.

It was a situation unimaginable just a year ago.

"The North has grown a lot, hasn’t it?"

"It’s all thanks to Arad Salt and Northern porcelain."

Only a year ago, Renslet had no choice but to politely accommodate Imperial merchants—even those blatantly acting as spies—all the way to the High Fortress at the heart of the North.

This was essential to ensure a steady flow of food and supplies into the Northern territories.

"More Northern porcelain! Is there any left?"

"Please! We’ll pay extra—just bring more porcelain!"

"Even the Kingdom Alliance across the continent is obsessed with Northern porcelain!"

"Rune Trading Company is here! Move!"

"Get out of the way! We’re buying everything!"

But at some point, this dynamic flipped entirely.

Now, it was the Imperial merchants begging Northern traders for more goods.

To acquire additional porcelain, they had to sell food, silk, and clothing at a fraction of their worth.

In Haven, Northern merchants sold furs, mana stones, monster by-products, Arad Salt, and porcelain at high prices.

Imperial merchants would then resell these Northern specialties at exorbitant rates in the Empire and the Kingdom Alliance.

"This is outrageous! So inconvenient!"

"We need more Arad Salt and porcelain!"

"We must find a way to reach the High Fortress, where the porcelain is produced!"

But human greed knows no bounds.

Especially among merchants, whose desires were limitless.

Imperial merchants and adventurers yearned to return to the High Fortress, the capital of the Northern Grand Duchy.

However, no one was allowed entry.

"Due to recent events, we can no longer trust Imperial merchants or adventurers."

"We will no longer assist you in traveling beyond Haven into the North."

The North, notorious for its brutal winters, was even harsher than the Empire’s desolate eastern territories.

No Imperial merchant dared to traverse the unforgiving cold, fend off monsters, and survive encounters with the North’s ruthless warriors to reach the High Fortress with a small group.

Even Sigma operatives disguised as Imperial merchants or adventurers attempted the journey, but none returned alive.

"This is absurd!"

"Absurd? Look around you. This is perfectly fair, Imperial scum."

"Fair?! How is this fair?!"

Some Imperial merchants (secretly Sigma agents) and adventurers (also Sigma) finally lost their patience and confronted an official from the High Fortress.

"Everything we’ve enforced aligns with Imperial law."

"There’s no Imperial law that allows for this!"

"Oh, really? ‘Northerners outside the North may not gather in groups of more than twenty.’ I’ve heard this phrase endlessly during my studies in the Empire."

"…!"

"If you’re confident, go ahead and enter the North with no more than 19 Imperial mercenaries. But don’t expect us to guarantee your safety."

The official’s barely veiled threat of looting the Imperial caravan left the merchants speechless.

"Do you really think the North will remain unscathed after this?!"

"Oh dear~, has the North ever been ‘unscathed’?"

"If that’s how it is, Northerners won’t be allowed to operate freely in the Empire either!"

"We’ve never been able to operate freely there. We’ve faced nothing but discrimination, contempt, and persecution."

"We’ll petition the Imperial court to expel all Northerners from the Empire!"

"Go ahead. Who do you think will suffer more? If Northern mercenaries and adventurers leave the Empire for the Kingdom Alliance, who gains and who loses?"

"You insolent…!"

In the past, such threats from the North would have been dismissed with a laugh.

For the Empire, avoiding the harsh and desolate North was a relief.

But now, such ultimatums were nothing short of maddening.

"What is the Imperial court even doing?!"

"They gorge themselves on taxes and bribes but can’t handle one group of Northern barbarians?!"

"With His Majesty on his deathbed, and invaders threatening the Empire from both East and West, it’s not like they have a choice. Picking a fight with the North right now would be disastrous."

"And the Crown Prince acting as regent seems woefully inexperienced in handling this."

"Shh! He’s the next Emperor!"

"Damn it…"

As frustration and dissatisfaction among Imperial merchants reached a boiling point, a man stepped forward to represent them.

"I will go myself!"

The man, one of the Empire’s most prominent merchant leaders, Entir Bishop, volunteered to venture into the North.

"I’ll go without any escorts or attendants! Alone! I’ll show the Northerners our sincerity!"

"Master Bishop, it’s too dangerous!"

"There’s no reward without risk."

"If something happens to you, what will become of us?!"

"Then my in-laws will have a field day, won’t they?"

"…Excuse me?"

Despite the protests of his staff, Entir left for the North with a sardonic smile.

Of course, in reality, it was more akin to being half-kidnapped by Balzac. But to the public, it seemed a noble, self-sacrificing gesture.

Two months and fifteen days passed.

The season shifted from early winter to late winter by Imperial standards.

When everyone was convinced of Entir Bishop’s demise—when the Marquis of Havana was preparing his funeral, and rival merchants were circling like vultures to devour the Bishop Trading Company—

"I, Entir Bishop, have returned!"

The merchant who had ventured deep into the Northern territories alone came back alive.

"From now on, we are no longer a trading company. We are a corporation!"

No one knew what he had witnessed in the High Fortress.

"Buy a large plot of land outside the city and build on it. Start hiring staff—anyone who’s physically intact will do! Preferably the poor and vagrants!"

But it was clear he had been profoundly changed.

Upon his return, Entir began executing earth-shattering reforms.

What had he seen in the North? At the High Fortress?

"Judging by the state of this company, my in-laws have been preparing for this for a while. But now that I’m back, the interim management ends here."

He wasted no time reorganizing the Bishop Trading Company, salvaging it from the brink of collapse, and rebranding it as the Bishop Corporation.

"Refusing to comply? Not agreeing?"

Some branches and executives, influenced by the Marquis of Havana, resisted his reforms.

"Then kill them."

Entir, employing mercenaries and staff of unknown origin, swiftly dealt with dissent.

"Rumors of independence from the Southern branch?"

For regions too distant for direct intervention, he used subtler methods.

"Stop selling them Northern porcelain, Mary’s Blessing, or Arad Salt. Pass this on to other merchants as well."

Entir secured an exclusive, near-monopoly contract with Renslet.

"Inform the Northern merchants in Haven not to sell to these companies on the list. They’ll understand—it’s an order from the High Fortress."

Effectively, Entir controlled the supply and pricing of Northern goods like porcelain, Mary’s Blessing, and Arad Salt.

His influence in the Empire had become nothing short of absolute.

***

Inside a building that housed the central-northern branch of the Bishop Company, which might soon become its headquarters:

"Ahahaha, hahaha!"

Entir Bishop clapped his hands in glee, radiating the joy of someone who had just conquered the world.

"Feeling good, huh?"

The question came from a mercenary with brown hair and brown eyes, watching Entir’s display of happiness.

"Of course! I’m so happy right now. I’m really glad I didn’t kill myself. It’s been almost ten years since I felt this kind of joy."

"Well, for us mercenaries, as long as our employer is happy, that’s all that matters."

The mercenary, whose gender was somewhat ambiguous, smirked faintly.

‘Still, this is shocking. I knew that Alicia had a thing for men, but to think she was involved with the Imperial Crown Prince of all people.’

The mercenary, Carpe, fiddled with a necklace that allowed him to maintain his disguise.

Alicia von Havana, the Marchioness, also known as the Sword of Blazing Flame.

A Sword Master with whom Carpe had shared a long and complicated history in the southern and western parts of the Empire.

Of course, as a mercenary, their relationship was strictly business. Personally, they couldn’t exactly be called friends—more like rivals with a hint of professional respect.

"Ahem… so, Mercenary King?"

"Shh! Don’t you know I’m being hunted by the Grand Duke of Darkness? Call me Phil!"

"Ah! My apologies, Phil."

"What do you want?"

"I heard you’re a swordsman on par with a Sword Master. Just how strong are you, really?"

"?"

Carpe quickly realized why his employer was asking such a question.

"Don’t worry. Alicia? That woman? She’s no problem. Her fighting style is way too predictable."

"R-really?"

"Yeah. Not all Sword Masters are equal."

"What about the Grand Duke of Darkness?"

"The Grand Duke? He’s out of my league. I knew it the moment I saw him at the Great Wall. He’s not called the strongest in the Empire for no reason."

"I see…"

"Do you think I’d go so far as to disguise myself and hide if he wasn’t the real deal?"

As Entir’s expression fell again, Carpe continued.

"But you don’t have to worry too much. Balzac… that old man… he’s on par with the Grand Duke. I realized it when I met him at the High Fortress last time."

"Ohhhhh!"

"Besides, the Grand Duke is too busy. He wouldn’t abandon the Great Wall just to hunt down a mere merchant. And if someone of his stature moved, it would be impossible not to notice."

"That’s a relief. Truly, a relief."

Entir exhaled deeply, his eyes filled with genuine relief.

"Ahem! It’s time to move to the outskirts of the city. Mercenary Phil, prepare yourself."

"Understood. Dane, Hamel!"

Knowing Entir’s next destination, Carpe called out to the other members of the Red Wolf Company.

"Yes, Captain! We’re ready!"

Two mercenaries responded immediately, their arms and legs visibly different in color from the rest of their bodies.

They were the mercenaries who had lost limbs at the Great Wall but had recovered thanks to procedures conducted at the High Fortress.

"Let’s head to Factory No. 1 on the outskirts."

Carpe and the Red Wolves surrounded Entir’s carriage protectively and began to move.

Incidentally, the horses pulling their wagons were high-quality breeds taken as reparations during their time at the Great Wall.