The North didn't just smell like snow; it smelled like wasted capital.
As the Imperial carriage crested the final ridge of the Iron-Bight Pass, the Northern Front laid itself out before me like a poorly managed balance sheet. The fortifications were jagged, the supply lines were stretched thin across the tundra, and the campfires were scattered without any strategic optimization for heat retention.
"You've been staring out that window for three hours, Evelyn," Alaric said, his voice a low vibration in the cramped space of the carriage. "Are you looking for the enemy, or just more 'decimal errors'?"
"In a war, Alaric, they're the same thing," I replied, finally turning away from the frost-covered glass.
I was wrapped in sables and fox fur—assets I had "borrowed" from the Dowager Empress's private collection before leaving. Across from me, Alaric looked perfectly at home in the cold. He had spent the journey sharpening a dagger with a rhythmic, hypnotic scrape.
"Look at the logistics," I said, gesturing vaguely toward the horizon. "Your supply wagons are spaced too far apart. If a blizzard hits, you'll lose twenty percent of your rations to spoilage and theft before they even reach the front. And those fortifications? They're built of stone that hasn't been properly treated for permafrost. They'll crack by mid-winter."
Alaric stopped sharpening his blade. He looked at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. "My generals have fought in these lands for decades. You're telling me they don't know how to build a wall?"
"I'm telling you they don't care about the cost of the wall," I countered. "They have an unlimited budget provided by your father's old war-bonds. When money is 'free,' people get lazy. But the bonds are maturing, Alaric. In six months, the interest payments will exceed the national GDP."
[System Notification: Skill 'Venture Capitalist's Eye' scanning...] [Logistics Analysis: 18% Efficiency Loss due to 'Old Guard' stubbornness.] [Hidden Risk: General Kaelen is running a 'Ghost Soldier' scam.]
My eyes widened as the red text flickered in my vision. Ghost soldiers. The oldest trick in the book. A general reports ten thousand men, draws rations and pay for ten thousand, but only actually leads eight thousand. The rest goes straight into his retirement fund.
"We're not just here to observe, Alaric," I said, my voice turning ice-cold. "We're here to liquidate."
The Fortress of Frost
The main camp was a sprawling city of canvas and mud. The soldiers looked at our carriage with a mixture of awe and resentment. They were tired, cold, and hungry—a "workforce" that was dangerously close to a strike.
General Kaelen met us at the gates. He was a man built like an oak tree, covered in scars and medals that he likely bought with the "ghost" money.
"Your Majesties!" Kaelen boomed, bowing low, though his eyes never left Alaric. "A surprise to see the Empress in such... delicate territory. I trust the palace was getting too warm for you?"
"The heat was fine, General," I said, stepping out of the carriage before Alaric could offer a hand. I let my boots sink into the slush, staring the General down. "It was the smell of rotting accounts that brought me North."
Kaelen's smile faltered. "Accounts? My Lady, this is a war, not a counting house. We deal in blood and steel here."
"Actually, you deal in bread and boots," I said, walking past him toward the supply depot. "And according to the reports you sent to the capital, you have ten thousand men eating three meals a day. I'd like to see the morning roll call."
"Now?" Kaelen laughed nervously. "The men are resting, Your Majesty. It's highly irregular—"
"I don't care about regular," I interrupted, turning to Alaric. "Alaric, order the General to assemble the troops. All of them. Now."
Alaric looked at me, then at Kaelen. There was a moment of tension—the sound of the wind howling through the battlements was the only noise. Then, Alaric gave a short, sharp nod.
"You heard the Chancellor," Alaric said. "Assemble the men."
The Ghost Audit
An hour later, eight thousand men stood in the freezing wind.
The silence was deafening. I stood on the wooden podium, my breath hitching in the cold air, holding the "Iron Ledger" Kaelen had handed me.
"General," I said, my voice carrying across the ranks thanks to a small amplification spell I'd forced Lila to buy from a street mage. "You are missing two thousand men."
"They are... on scout duty, My Lady! In the far ridges!" Kaelen stammered, his face turning a suspicious shade of red.
"In a blizzard? Without horses?" I stepped to the edge of the podium. "I've checked the grain records for the horses, too. You're charging the Crown for four thousand mounts, but your stables only hold twelve hundred. Unless you've discovered a way to make horses invisible, General, you are currently stealing five thousand Gold a week from the men standing right in front of you."
A murmur rippled through the soldiers. Heads turned. Eyes narrowed.
"The rations you've been 'buying' for those ghost soldiers?" I continued, looking directly at the troops. "They aren't in the warehouse. They were sold to the Northern Tribes—your enemies—for silver. You are literally feeding the people who are trying to kill your men."
"Lies!" Kaelen roared, reaching for his sword. "You are a woman who knows nothing of sacrifice! I have bled for this Empire!"
"And you've been paid in full for every drop," I said calmly.
Alaric stepped forward, his hand resting on his own blade. The air around him began to crackle with blue lightning. "Kaelen. Give me your ledger. Now."
"I will not be insulted by a—"
Kaelen never finished. I didn't wait for Alaric to act. I activated my new skill.
[Skill Activated: 'Debt Seizure - Military Extension'!] [Condition: Corruption proven in the field.] [Target: General Kaelen's 'Ghost Fund'.]
Suddenly, a massive chest in the General's private tent—hidden under the floorboards—erupted in golden light. The gold coins didn't just sit there; they vanished, reappearing in a shimmering pile right in the middle of the troop square.
The soldiers gasped. It was more gold than most of them would see in ten lifetimes.
"That gold," I shouted, pointing at the pile, "is your back-pay. It's the boots you didn't get last winter. It's the meat you haven't tasted in months. It was hidden under your General's bed."
The roar that came from the eight thousand soldiers was louder than any dragon. Kaelen turned to flee, but he didn't even make it three steps before his own lieutenants tackled him to the frozen ground.
The ROI of Victory
That night, the camp felt different. The fires were bigger, the soldiers were eating actual stew, and the "Ghost Fund" had been redistributed with a 0% interest rate to the families of the fallen.
I sat in the General's former tent, wrapped in a blanket, staring at a map.
"You almost started a mutiny," Alaric said, entering the tent. He was carrying two tin mugs of hot grog.
"I started a reorganization," I replied, taking a mug. My hands were still shaking from the cold. "A mutiny is when they kill the leader to escape. A reorganization is when they kill the leader to get paid."
Alaric sat across from me, his eyes fixed on mine. He looked at me for a long time without saying a word. The usual wall of frost between us seemed... thinner.
"You gave the gold to the men," he said quietly. "You didn't keep a copper for the Treasury. Why?"
"High morale is a more valuable asset than liquid gold in a war zone, Alaric. It's called 'investing in human capital.' Those men will follow you into hell now, not because they have to, but because they know I'll make sure their families are taken care of if they don't come back."
Alaric reached out, his hand covering mine on the table. His skin was warm, a startling contrast to the Northern air.
"You're a terrifying woman, Evelyn Cho... or whoever you are," he whispered. "But for the first time in three years, I think we might actually win this war."
[System Notification!] [Imperial Reputation: -60 -> -30 (Soldiers now call you 'The Golden Empress')] [Alaric's Interest: 35% -> 48%] [New Passive Unlocked: 'War-Time CEO' - Command aura increased by 20%.]
"We'll win," I said, looking into the fire. "But victory is expensive. And tomorrow, we have to talk about the interest rates on your armor."
Alaric laughed—a genuine, deep sound that I had never heard before. "Gods, Evelyn. Give me one night without a balance sheet."
"Fine," I smiled, leaning toward him. "But only if you agree to an 'Executive Session' on how we're going to handle the Barbarian King's debt."