[CEO's Cheat Sheet]
Asset Liquidation: The process of quickly selling or converting assets (which can be goods, property, or prisoners of war) into cash.
Ransom: A sum of money demanded in exchange for the release of a captive.
Free Cash Flow: Cash available in a company after paying all operational costs, which can be used for massive expansion.
The wind blew cold, yet not a single one of Duke Malakor's five hundred cavalrymen or the Church of Light's fifty Paladins dared to move.
In front of them, the Cursed Prince stood atop the crater he had just created, holding their strongest knight's head to the frozen ground with just one hand. The Abyssal-level killing intent radiating from Revista's body made the enemy's horses and snow wolves whimper in terror, rejecting their riders' commands.
"I will not repeat myself," Revista growled. His voice wasn't loud, yet it was enough to rattle the ribs of every armed man there. "Kneel."
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
High-quality steel swords were dropped to the ground. One by one, the elite knights and holy Paladins who had arrived with puffed-out chests to carry out a 'massacre', were now kneeling on the thick snow. They trembled, utterly conquered by absolute fear.
Even Inquisitor Zephyr, who had previously radiated a fanatical aura, was now frozen in his saddle. Cold sweat trickled down his pale temples. He knew that just one movement of his hand to cast light magic, and Revista would rip his head from his neck in a fraction of a second.
Not long after, the steel gates of the Obsidian Wall slowly opened.
Stephanie Vane stepped out with the grace of a queen descending to inspect her spoils of war. Behind her, Sylas Thorne walked casually while holding his financial ledger, while Ornn Coppervein jogged over with eyes sparkling with intense passion as he stared at the three abandoned Magic Cannons.
"By my great-grandfather's axe!" Ornn rubbed the metal cylinder of the cannon while literally drooling. "Pure magic-forged steel, and... oh my! A giant-capacity Mana Stone reactor! Boss Lady, if I dismantle this thing, I can channel its power to automate our entire paper and glass factory!"
"Do it, Ornn. Those three machines are now the official property of Winterhaven," Stephanie said casually, completely ignoring Inquisitor Zephyr's horrified stare.
Stephanie continued walking until she stopped right beside Revista. The warm touch of her hand on Revista's shoulder made the Prince's deadly aura subside instantly, turning into a soft purr like a guard dog seeking praise.
Stephanie stared at the thousands of elite troops kneeling before her.
Five hundred cavalry and fifty Paladins, the CEO thought inwardly. Their upkeep costs will be a total drain if I imprison them for nothing. They need to be dealt with right away.
"Inquisitor Zephyr, isn't it?" Stephanie greeted the white-robed man with a sweet smile that didn't reach her eyes at all.
"Y-You heretical witch..." Zephyr hissed, though his voice trembled. "The Church of Light will send its entire war armada to level this filthy place!"
"Oh, please do. But before that armada arrives, let's talk about compensation," Stephanie cut in quickly.
Stephanie snapped her fingers. Sylas Thorne stepped forward, opening his ledger with a professional flair that was incredibly irritating to the enemy.
"Illegal invasion, attempted destruction of our walls, and threatening our people," Sylas read in his smooth baritone voice. "Based on the Madam Director's calculations, the life of each of the Duke's cavalrymen is valued at five gold coins. Meanwhile, the life of an elite Church Paladin... fifty gold coins."
Zephyr widened his blind eyes. "T-That's extortion! Where did those insane numbers come from?!"
"From my personal calculations," Stephanie answered coldly. "Sylas, take all their weapons, armor, and horses. Their steel armor will be melted down by Ornn to make glass molds and additional heating pipes."
"You can't do this!" shouted Sir Vaelin who had just regained consciousness, his face battered under the grip of Revista's boot. "We are nobles! Paladins are holy representatives!"
Stephanie looked down, staring at Sir Vaelin with eyes as cold as winter ice.
"In my territory, there are no nobles or holy representatives," Stephanie hissed. "There are only useful people and burdens. Inquisitor Zephyr, I will allow you to return to the Capital alive, with a single horse."
Zephyr was stunned, unable to believe this sudden mercy.
"However," Stephanie continued, her capitalist smile widening, "you will bring a ransom bill to my father and the Supreme Leader of the Church of Light. If that ransom of thousands of gold coins is not paid within thirty days..."
Stephanie pointed toward the billowing smoke from the factory chimneys behind the wall.
"...then these proud elite knights and holy representatives will continue to work as soap-stirring factory laborers and dung carriers in Winterhaven for the rest of their lives, to pay off their debt to me."
The hair on the back of every Capital soldier's neck stood up. Becoming manual laborers for a banished noble? That was an insult a thousand times worse than execution.
"Sylas, handle the intake process for our new workers. Make sure each knight is given a quota of stirring two hundred kilograms of paper pulp a day," Stephanie ordered mercilessly.
"With pleasure, Madam," Sylas smirked cunningly, his eyes looking at the elite troops as if staring at big, profitable numbers in his ledger.
That night, Inquisitor Zephyr spurred his horse through the blizzard toward the South with a deathly pale face and completely shattered pride. He carried the largest ransom bill in the history of the continent, while behind him, the holy Paladins of the Church of Light were forced to cry while chopping pine wood under the supervision of Sylas's wind whip and Vortigern's howls.
Winterhaven was no longer a wasteland.
It was now an all-consuming production powerhouse, and Stephanie Vane was the iron-fisted CEO holding absolute control over the Northern territory.