As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Sarah left the Lord’s Castle. The meeting had ended, but her thoughts were still spinning as she made her way through the dusty streets of Jola City. Her steps were steady but absent-minded, her mind preoccupied with the weight of the discussion and the orders handed down by Her Highness, Ravenna.

  Her home came into view—a modest structure of mud and sandstone, weathered but sturdy, a testament to the craftsmanship of a bygone era. The house had stood longer than Sarah had been alive, its walls bearing silent witness to the struggles and joys of countless days.

  As she entered, the door creaked slightly, and a cheerful voice immediately greeted her. “Mother! You’re back!”

  A small boy, no older than six, ran toward her with outstretched arms. His smile was as bright as the last rays of sunlight outside. Sarah crouched down, scooping him up into a warm embrace. She kissed his forehead, her worries momentarily melting away.

  “Yes, I’m back,” she said softly, her voice filled with affection. “So, how was class today?”

  The boy’s face lit up with excitement. “I wrote all the letters without a single mistake today! Holiness Ken even gave me an A+ on my slate!”

  “That’s wonderful news!” Sarah beamed, her pride evident.

  As she set her son down, the door opened again, and a man stepped inside. He was in his early thirties, wearing a fisherman’s garb stained with the marks of a long day’s work. His broad shoulders and weathered hands spoke of a life spent battling the sea’s whims.

  “Honey, you’re back,” he said, a mix of relief and curiosity in his voice. “How did the meeting with Her Highness go? Did she say anything about the island’s situation? Are we getting traders back?”

  This was Angelo, Sarah’s husband and a fisherman working under Richard. His eagerness was evident—like many others in Jola City, he was anxious about the future.

  Sarah offered him a reassuring smile, though her eyes held a trace of exhaustion. “Her Highness didn’t mention much about reconnecting with mainland merchants,” she admitted. “But she has a plan—a way to make the food situation more manageable.”

  Angelo’s brow furrowed as he leaned closer, his voice filled with hope and uncertainty. “A plan? How?”

  Sarah gently placed her hand on his arm, her voice tinged with cautious optimism. “Using ice,” she said simply.

  Angelo blinked, stunned. “Ice?”

  Meanwhile, back in the grand halls of the Lord’s Castle, Ravenna sat in her chamber, the air still buzzing with the weight of the earlier meeting. Across from her sat Alice, her trusted accountant maid, who had stayed behind for a more private discussion.

  The meeting had been a whirlwind. Ravenna had issued her orders, explained her innovative plan to transport the magical beast fish, and even delved into the mechanics of creating cement to Priest James, detailing how it could aid in constructing storage facilities easier and how to adapt the designs she gave him. Now, the room was quiet, save for the faint crackle of a lantern.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “I understand that you’re trying to fix the city’s situation and stabilize the economy,” Alice began, her words measured but firm. “But you’re being reckless! We don’t have a budget to support these grandiose plans of yours. How do you intend to pay for everything you’ve just ordered?”

  She leaned forward, her voice rising as she continued, “You want a proper deck built to support trade and fishing operations—that requires manpower. How will you pay the workers? You’ve tasked Sarah with organizing civilians into a militia—where’s the money to compensate them? And those people you’ve sent to the northern coastline to set traps for magical beasts? We can’t afford any of it!”

  Her frustration boiled over as she slammed her hand on the table, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “We’re already struggling to pay the volunteers helping with food distribution. Poverty is rampant, and inflation is spiraling out of control. How are you going to pay anyone? How are you going to make this work?”

  Alice’s words were sharp, but they were genuine. Few dared to speak to Ravenna so bluntly, and fewer still could challenge her so directly. But Alice was different as her childhood friend and Elder Sister Figure. She pressed on, her tone both accusatory and pleading.

  “And then there’s your new administrative and economic policy!” she exclaimed. “You’ve centralized power and proposed paying wages to every citizen since private businesses no longer exist. This means the state is responsible for every single person’s income. Our treasury can’t handle that! We’re already running on fumes. Maybe we could try reconnecting with the mainland Ancrona merchants tomorrow to secure funding, but even that—”

  Ravenna raised her hand, silencing Alice mid-sentence. Calmly, she slid a set of documents across the table toward her. “Didn’t you read the policy details carefully?” she asked, her voice steady.

  Alice frowned but nodded. “I did, as soon as you announced it. It outlines the specifics of the policy, and yes, the state must now pay every working citizen a wage since private businesses are abolished. But that only increases our expenses. How are we going to afford it?”

  Ravenna leaned back, her expression unreadable. “I think you’re mistaken,” she said, her voice tinged with quiet confidence. “Look closely.”

  She opened a file, revealing detailed documents of budgets, wages, and projections for every individual and business in Jola. Ravenna had meticulously compiled the data herself using her reputation system to access the internet and spreadsheets streamlining the calculations.

  “Because we now control all businesses and production,” she began, “we also control the market and wages. Inflation can rise as much as it wants, but we can adjust prices to balance it out. For example…”

  She pointed to an example in the documentation. “A barber in mainland Ancrona typically earns about one copper coin per customer, which averages out to ten silver coins a month. That’s because the barber sets their own prices for services. But here, under our system, we dictate the price. A haircut will cost only half a copper coin, and the barber will earn a fixed wage of five copper coins a month.”

  Alice raised an eyebrow. “But won’t the barbers protest if their earnings are cut like that?”

  Ravenna nodded. “They might, if the cost of living weren’t also being adjusted proportionally. Since we control everything—from food prices to construction costs—we can subsidize essentials and lower living expenses across the board. This stabilizes inflation and quells unrest. It’s not just a policy; it’s a solution to systemic instability.”

  She picked up a cookie from the table, taking a small bite before continuing. “As for reconnecting with mainland merchants, it’s not a viable option. No one wants to trade with Jola for two reasons. First, because I am the princess who killed her own mother and was exiled. Second, because Jola is impoverished and holds no market value for them. We must build our strength independently.”

  Alice stared at Ravenna, her frustration giving way to a mix of awe and disbelief. “So… this wasn’t just a whim?” she asked hesitantly. “You actually thought this through?”

  Ravenna smirked, her confidence unwavering. “Every detail,” she said.