Morning draped Valoria in pale light. From his balcony, Arthur watched the city slowly stir awake. Merchants set out modest stalls, thin smoke rose from hearths. At a glance, it looked like any other day—yet Arthur knew the wounds of war still festered behind the walls.
He shut the window and returned to his study. Empty bottles and cigarette butts from the night before still cluttered the desk. Cici entered with a basin of warm water, quietly helping her King wash his face. Arthur's eyes were bloodshot, but his gaze had regained its edge.
"Your Majesty," Cici whispered, "the Council is waiting."
Arthur nodded. He pulled on a black robe trimmed with silver, standing tall despite the heaviness in his head. Marcel waited at the door with a scroll in hand.
"All members of the Council are present," Marcel reported. "The northern lords are restless. They demand funds to rebuild their villages."
Arthur drew a deep breath. "Then let's not keep them waiting."
The council hall buzzed with murmurs. Rows of chairs in a wide circle were filled with nobles, ministers, and envoys. When Arthur entered, his footsteps echoed against the marble floor, and the room fell silent.
He sat at the high seat at the head of the round table. "Begin," he said curtly.
Erel Vadison, the Minister of Finance, rose first. Thin and pale, his hands trembled as he clutched a report. "Your Majesty, the treasury is nearly empty. The war against the cult drained our food stores, medicine, and gold. However…" his voice hardened, "…there is hope. Your invention—the mana-powered cold chest—is in high demand across Etheria. Prices have doubled in a month. Valoria is the sole producer. If we expand, it could be our salvation."
Several nobles applauded, but Bruna, head of health, shot up. Her hair was gray, her face stern. "Funds are not for trade, Erel! Our people are dying! The captives we brought back are half-dead, our hospitals overflow. They need grain, medicine, healers—not refrigerators!"
"Then where will the money come from, Bruna?" Erel snapped. "The treasury is bare! Without trade, we dig our own graves!"
"You speak like a market peddler!" Bruna retorted. "Lives cannot be bartered for luxuries!"
The hall erupted in noise.
Theon, the diplomatic advisor, raised his voice calmly but sharply. "Do not forget the non-human captives. The elves and beastfolk we freed are watching closely. If they are treated worse than our own, Silverwood and Veritas may sever their ties. If that happens, Valoria will stand alone."
A conservative noble slammed the table, his large frame trembling. "Why feed outsiders? Our own people starve! And the King wastes time on odd projects—refrigerators, mana-powered wagons—while villages lie in ruins!"
The uproar swelled, voices clashing, fists pounding on the table.
Arthur finally rose. At once, silence fell. His gaze swept the chamber, freezing nobles where they sat.
"You are all right," he said slowly. "The treasury is empty. Our people suffer. And yes, these cold chests may look like luxuries amidst the rubble." He paused, then his voice rang louder. "But they are not toys. They are lifelines. By selling them, we buy grain, medicine, and tools. With the profits, we heal the broken, rebuild villages, and keep our allies' trust."
His fist struck the table. "If you reduce this to mere numbers, Valoria will collapse without a single enemy drawing a sword. The people are our fortress. Without them, this palace is nothing but stone."
The chamber went quiet. Bruna lowered her eyes, then gave a slow nod.
Erel cleared his throat. "Then… forty percent of profits from cold chests for the recovery of captives and hospitals. Thirty percent for food and villages. The remaining thirty percent to maintain production."
Arthur scanned the circle. "Any objections?"
No voices rose. The motion passed.
As nobles began to rise, Arthur raised his hand. "Wait. One more matter."
They sank back into their seats.
"Cold chests bring revenue, but trade alone will not suffice. Tonight, I decree that Valoria shall issue Royal Bonds."
Whispers broke out instantly.
Arthur's tone was steady. "A bond is the kingdom's promise. We borrow gold from the people and the lords. In return, we pay a fixed interest each year—this is the coupon. And when the term ends, five or ten years, we repay the full principal. They do not lose their gold—they gain more."
A guild economist raised his hand. "What coupon rate, Your Majesty?"
Arthur met his eyes. "High enough to entice, low enough to sustain. Five percent per year. Clear, simple, anyone can grasp it."
Erel scribbled quickly. "And the terms?"
"For common folk, short-term—five years. For nobles and major merchants, long-term—ten years. Both at five percent, but scaled by their investment."
Marcel leaned forward. "And if someone wishes to sell before maturity?"
Arthur answered firmly. "Allow it. That is the secondary market. They can sell their bond to another buyer. But whoever holds it at the end still receives the full principal. That way, the bond is not dead paper—it flows like coin."
Advisors exchanged looks and nodded.
A conservative noble sneered. "If the crown defaults, we will be laughed at across nations."
Arthur's gaze cut to him. "If Valoria falls, your gold is worthless anyway. But if Valoria stands, those bonds will prove your house helped save the realm."
Theon added, "It is more than money. It signals to allies that Valoria shoulders its burdens, not just begs for aid."
Bruna spoke softly at last. "If commoners can buy in small amounts, they will feel part of the recovery. It may calm their fears."
Arthur nodded. "Exactly. A bond is not just parchment—it is trust made tangible."
When the initial decision was sealed, most nobles departed. Only Arthur, Marcel, Erel, and the economists remained. The doors shut firmly.
Arthur leaned back, then spoke. "For this to work, we need a dedicated body. It cannot be left to cashiers or merchants."
He stood. "From this day, I establish the Division of National Trust. They will manage all bonds—both primary sales and secondary trade. They will record every buyer, ensure coupons are paid on time, and guard the market from chaos. The division answers to the Finance Minister, but reports directly to me."
Erel's eyes lit. "A dedicated office, then?"
"Yes," Arthur replied. "And staff it with the best. Not just skilled with numbers—honest, incorruptible. A single failure will shatter the trust we are building."
Marcel wrote swiftly. "Division of National Trust… a fitting name."
Arthur nodded. "Because this is about more than gold. It is about faith in Valoria's tomorrow."
For a moment, silence reigned. Then Erel closed his ledger. "Then tomorrow, Valoria will witness the birth of a new institution. Not saved by sword or cold chest alone—but by trust."
Arthur exhaled deeply, a faint smile on his lips. "We may lose battles. But as long as our people believe, Valoria will stand."
That night, the city's markets still pulsed faintly. Talk of "Valoria's cold chests" mingled with a new rumor—royal bonds. Some were confused, others intrigued.
On his balcony, Arthur gazed at the flickering torches lining the streets. "Today we found a path," he murmured. "I don't know how long it will hold… but for now, Valoria lives."