Note: Checkout my other novel "Heaven Defying Summoner Emperor" on this account.
The sun slipped behind Wave's hills, leaving the docks lit by lanterns and the salty hiss of tidewater. By night the market quieted, stalls shuttered, but clerks still moved with their ledgers, noting late deliveries, adjusting tallies by lamplight.
Tsunade sat at a long table inside the Order's administrative hall. It was not ornate — plain wood, solid, scarred from years as a dockside warehouse. But the table was covered in parchment, neat stacks of ledgers, seals pressed clean, coin tallies inked straight lines.
Shizune sat beside her, quill ready, eyes sharp. Tonton snored in her lap.
Across from them, Lelouch arranged the stacks with deliberate care, his gloved hands moving without haste. He placed one ledger open before Tsunade: monthly intake, dock taxes, distributions.
"Here," he said. "The numbers speak. Ask whatever you wish."
Tsunade didn't hesitate. She flipped pages, eyes flicking quick. "Dock revenue. Imports, exports. Where's the skim?"
"There is none," Lelouch replied.
"There's always skim," she snapped.
"Not here," he said. "Every coin is counted. Clerks file monthly. If their sums falter, another clerk audits them. Lies don't survive sunlight."
Her gaze sharpened. "And if the auditors are corrupt?"
"They answer to me," Lelouch said. His tone didn't shift.
Shizune swallowed. Tsunade exhaled sharply through her nose, then flipped another page.
"Medical supplies," she muttered, scanning fast. "Alcohol, gauze, herbs… imported bulk from Fire, surplus stockpiles… at a loss. You're bleeding coin."
"Coin circulates," Lelouch repeated. "A healed worker pays tax. A healed dockhand fishes. A healed child grows to labor. Clinics are losses in one column, profit in the next."
Her mouth twitched, as if unwilling to admit approval. "Hn."
She turned another ledger. "Wages. Soldiers."
"Paid monthly. On time. In coin, not promises."
She raised an eyebrow. "And loyalty? Soldiers go where coin is heavy. They'll turn on you if someone else pays more."
"They won't," Lelouch said calmly.
"And why not?"
"Because I don't just pay them," he said. "I give their families clinics. Their children schools. Their wives safe markets. A man can be bribed. A family cannot."
Shizune's hand stilled on her quill. Tsunade froze for just half a heartbeat, remembering Dan's words years ago, the dream of shinobi protecting the village not for orders but for people.
Her jaw tightened. She turned the page.
"Inflation," she said. "You pump coin into clinics, schools, pay soldiers — the currency will break. What's your safeguard?"
"Price ceilings on staples," Lelouch replied. "Bread, salt, rice. Anyone selling above the ceiling loses license. Competition handles the rest."
"That drives black markets," she said instantly.
"Then Eclipse undercuts them. Black markets only thrive when hunger is stronger than fear. Here, hunger is weak."
She stared across the table at him. For a long moment, the room was silent but for the scratch of Shizune's quill.
Finally Tsunade leaned back, closing the ledger. She rubbed her temple with one stained hand. "You talk like a daimyo's treasurer."
"I talk like a man who has no interest in dice," Lelouch said softly. "I calculate."
She inhaled, slow and heavy. Her eyes flicked once more to the ledgers, then to the sound of laughter outside — children darting across the street, chasing one another through lanternlight.
"You've built something," she said finally. Her voice was grudging, gravel in her throat. "Not perfect. Not unbreakable. But it stands. Better than dice."
Shizune blinked, relief flickering across her face.
Lelouch inclined his head slightly. "For now. Nothing stands forever. But Wave stands today because the rules do."
Tsunade pushed the ledger away. "Fine. I'll walk into Konoha with you. Not because I believe you — because I've seen the numbers, and they match the smiles. If the books are a lie, I'll tear your Order apart with my own hands."
"Good," Lelouch said, his voice low but certain. "A queen who audits herself is harder to topple."
She almost smiled at that, but crushed it under her teeth. "Don't crown me yet, boy. I'll wear that hat when I decide it's mine, not because you made room on your board."
"Of course," Lelouch said smoothly, though inside his thoughts ran colder. It's already yours. You just haven't said it yet.
Later that night, after Tsunade retired, Lelouch walked the quiet streets of Wave. Shinkirō stood sentinel in the shadows, optics glowing faint. The sea wind carried salt and tar, the creak of ropes.
He watched merchants close their books without fear. He watched children carry leftover bread home without hiding it under rags. He watched guards at their posts, alert because their families slept safe.
And he thought: She will see this again in Konoha. She will wear the hat. And when she does, the Order will not just stand behind her. It will stand inside her decisions.
The queen had tested the board. Tomorrow, she would return to play.