The silence in the parlor was broken only by the crackling of logs in the fireplace and the sound of parchment unfurling. Barov stood before the prince, holding a financial report with an expression of pure dejection.
"Sit down," Roland said, his voice carrying a tone of practical urgency. "Barov was giving me the figures for Border Town. They are pathetic. He says our only option is a total evacuation. But before I make a decision, I want to hear what the 'scholars' have to say about the map in front of us."
Arthur approached the table, his eyes scanning the markings of the North Slope Mine and the winding path of the Redwater River. His intelligence—enhanced by his prior knowledge of the story—allowed him to see beyond the rudimentary drawings.
"The problem with Border Town isn't a lack of resources, Your Highness, but the way it has been economically strangled," Arthur began, his voice calm and analytical. "Currently, our only exports come from mining and hunting. In contrast, nearly 100% of our imports consist of food. Everything that enters or leaves passes through Longsong Stronghold or goes downriver to Willow Town."
William looked at Arthur, genuinely impressed. "Damn, man... you actually memorized this part?"
Arthur ignored the comment and continued, pointing to the North Slope Mine on the map. "This mine is an anomaly. According to what the witch Anna mentioned, it is a subterranean hideout with no proven bottom. What's bizarre is the variety: iron, copper, sulfur, rock crystal—this defies any logic of associated minerals we know."
Barov let out a heavy sigh. "And what good are these minerals if Duke Osmond Ryan of Longsong dictates the rules?"
"Exactly, Barov," Arthur nodded. "The current agreement is a trap. The gems and ores aren't paid for with royal gold, but with food rations. The Duke structured this so that the mine's annual production is only enough to sustain the town's two thousand people. There is no surplus, no accumulation of wealth. To him, this place is just a warning outpost against monsters, kept on the brink of starvation so it lacks the strength to rebel."
Roland leaned forward, drumming his fingers on the table. "And the hunting?"
"Another waste of revenue, Your Highness," Arthur responded promptly. "Local hunters take their pelts west, selling them in Longsong or Willowleaf. Since the transactions happen outside the town, there's no record and no tax can be collected. Border Town is resource-rich but managed like a refugee camp."
Arthur looked steadily at Roland, conveying the gravity of the plan. "Things cannot continue like this. We can no longer pay for minerals with food. The Redwater River crosses the entire kingdom and traffic isn't blocked; it's a vital transport route. If we stop buying from Longsong Stronghold, we can obtain supplies from elsewhere through new trade partners, using the gold that the gems are actually worth."
"But there's a condition," William intervened, crossing his arms and focusing on the map. "To trade with others, we need to prove this town won't vanish in the winter."
"Precisely," Arthur concluded. "All of this only works if you, Your Highness, decide to stay here and block the demonic beasts. If the wall is built and the beasts are contained, Border Town ceases to be a mere 'disposable shield'."
Roland stood up, a spark of technical determination appearing in his eyes. Arthur's analysis confirmed what his engineering mind already suspected: independence required infrastructure and resistance.
"Barov, did you hear the man?" Roland said, pointing to Arthur. "Prepare the edicts. We are not evacuating. We are building."
Barov turned pale, but before he could protest the impossibility of facing hybrid beasts, Roland signaled for everyone to leave. The next day would be long: Carter had already been instructed to bring the men who knew the true face of the enemy coming from the north.
The next morning, the air in Border Town was sharper, heavy with the promise of the first snowfall that would mark the start of the Months of Demons. In the castle's main hall, Roland waited alongside Arthur and William. Carter Lannis entered, leading three men who brought the scent of the forest and the exhaustion of patrols on their faces: two local guards, one being the large Brian, and an imposing hunter with bronzed skin known as Iron Axe.
Roland, acting with the pragmatism of Cheng Yan, went straight to the point. "I called you here because you are the ones who get closest to the forest and have lived here for at least five years. I need to know exactly what we will face when the miasma begins to take effect."
Brian, still adjusting his posture before royalty, was the first to speak. "Your Highness, the common demonic beasts look like wolves or foxes, but with bloodshot eyes and an aggression that isn't natural. They don't hunt out of hunger; they attack to destroy."
Iron Axe, maintaining a discipline that immediately caught William's eye, stepped forward. "The real danger, Your Highness, are the hybrids. I've seen creatures with turtle shells and wolf heads that common arrows won't even scratch. They emerge when the miasma's corruption fuses different species."
"And their blood? Is it true it's black and viscous?" Arthur asked. "That suggests the mutation isn't just external, but a deep cellular alteration caused by the high magical activity of winter. If we can understand the attack patterns of these hybrids, we can use artillery to focus on the blind spots of the shells."
William, watching Iron Axe with the eye of someone who understands combat, approached the hunter. "You have the posture of a professional soldier, not a simple hunter. In the militia the Prince is forming, we'll need someone who knows how to hold the line when one of those seven-meter beasts shows up. How about we test your survival technique in the training yard?"
Iron Axe looked at William, measuring the young man's confidence. "If the Prince orders it, I will teach your men how the Sand People deal with predators."
Roland nodded, satisfied with the dynamic forming. "Arthur and I will ensure you have weapons that can pierce any shell. William, you will be responsible for handling the militia."
As the men left, Arthur looked at the map for the wall that would begin to be raised with cement. He knew that the economic theory discussed the previous day now depended on the brute force and gunpowder yet to come.