[CEO's Cheat Sheet]
Market Penetration: An aggressive strategy to enter a market with a new product priced much lower than the competition, in order to seize control.
Predatory Pricing: Setting prices extremely low on purpose with the goal of driving competitors broke and out of the market.
Bankruptcy: When a person, company, or kingdom can no longer pay what they owe.
Winterhaven's paper factory had never run this smoothly.
Ornn Coppervein was nearly in tears watching the three Mana Stone Reactors—ripped right out of the enemy's magic cannons—now powering giant gears that automatically ground pine logs into wood pulp.
But the most satisfying sight was in the mixing area.
Sir Vaelin, the proud elite knight of the Duke Vane family—a man who always wore gleaming steel armor—was now wearing nothing but thin linen pants. His muscular body glistened with cold sweat. His blistered hands had to keep stirring a giant wooden pole inside a vat of foul-smelling paper pulp.
Next to him, dozens of Holy Paladins from the Church of Light shared the same fate. They hauled wood, filtered paper fibers, and dried white sheets under Ornn's blazing glass pavilion.
"Faster, Holy Sirs!" shouted Sylas Thorne. The Elf stood on the supervisor's platform, elegantly holding a cup of black coffee. "Time is money! If the quota of twenty thousand sheets isn't met before sunset, your dinner gets fed to the wolves!"
Sir Vaelin gritted his teeth until they nearly cracked. His pride was completely shattered. But when he turned his head and saw Vortigern—the giant wolf gnawing on an ice bear bone while eyeing the prisoners hungrily—his courage shrank. He frantically went back to stirring.
On the upper floor of the castle, Stephanie watched everything from behind the clear glass windows of her office.
"Our labor cost is literally zero," Stephanie murmured in satisfaction, reading the numbers on her System screen.
Revista stood right behind her, his chin resting on top of her head. Both his arms were wrapped around her shoulders from behind—like a possessive, incredibly warm living coat.
"You turned those elite warriors into dung-stirring slaves," Revista whispered, his deep voice carrying a strange kind of respect. "You are far crueler than a monster like me."
"This isn't slavery, Revista. It's called Restructuring Seized Assets," Stephanie said casually, stroking the man's muscular arm. "Besides, very soon they'll earn far more than just doing manual labor."
A soft knock came at the office door. Maevia—the former tavern owner now serving as Winterhaven's Head of Distribution—stepped inside.
"Boss Lady," Maevia greeted with a wide smile. "The merchants from the Black Gold Guild are already waiting at the border. Ever since you... ahem... took down the Capital's forces, they're willing to do absolutely anything for you."
"Perfect." Stephanie's eyes sharpened. "Give ten carriages full of Winterhaven White Paper to them. Tell them to flood the Capital's markets, magic schools, and government offices all across Aethelgard. The price... one silver coin for a hundred sheets."
Maevia gasped in shock. "O-One silver coin?! Boss Lady, this paper is incredibly smooth and flawless! The Church of Light's parchment costs a hundred times more! We could sell it for ten silver coins and it would still fly off the shelves!"
"No. Sell it at rock bottom. One silver coin," Stephanie cut in, her sharp gaze filling the room. "My goal this week isn't to squeeze the most money out of a piece of paper. My goal is to crush the competition on price."
Stephanie gazed south, toward the Capital.
"In less than three days, not a single school, noble, or institution will want to buy the Church's calfskin parchment again. We are going to cut off their main source of income."
Three days later. The heart of the Capital Aethelgard. The Grand Cathedral of the Church of Light.
High Pontiff Lucius sat on his golden throne, his face white as a sheet. In his hand was a piece of Winterhaven White Paper. His hands shook violently with rage and despair.
Below the throne's steps, a dozen Bishops and Church Treasurers bowed in panic.
"Your Holiness!" cried the Head Treasurer. "Our records are destroyed! All the royal magic academies, ministry offices, and even the nobles have canceled their purchasing contracts for our holy Vellum! They've all switched to this cheap paper from the North!"
"This paper... it's incredibly smooth, absorbs ink perfectly, and it's so light," Lucius murmured, barely believing what he held. "How could a group of exiles in a frozen wasteland create something like this?! How much have we lost?!"
"W-We've lost ninety percent of our daily income, Your Holiness," the Treasurer reported in a shaking voice. "Our parchment factories have had to shut down because it costs more to run them than what we make!"
In the middle of the chaos, the cathedral's double doors slowly opened.
Inquisitor Zephyr walked in. His clothes were torn, his face gaunt—he looked like a man who'd just crawled back from hell. He knelt before High Pontiff Lucius, holding a black envelope sealed with golden wax.
"Your Holiness... I bring a message from Winterhaven," Zephyr said in a hoarse voice.
Lucius snatched the envelope. His eyes ran over the numbers on the page—the ransom bill for the fifty elite Paladins being held by Stephanie.
The number was 50,000 Gold Coins.
Lucius's pale face turned dark red. His breath caught. He clutched his suddenly tight chest.
"FIFTY THOUSAND GOLD COINS?!" Lucius screamed, his voice ringing through the entire cathedral. "That woman just wiped out our main income with this cursed paper, and now she wants us to buy back our knights with money we don't even have?!"
The Church of Light—the most respected and wealthiest group on the continent—had just been declared broke by an exiled CEO.
"We cannot let this stand," Lucius hissed, his eyes wild with rage. "If we don't pay, the Church's reputation will crumble and our followers will abandon us."
Lucius rose from his throne, limping toward the holy altar. He pressed a hidden brick, opening a secret compartment sealed by powerful magic. Inside sat a small obsidian box glowing with a sickly purple light—completely out of place in a house of light.
Zephyr held his breath. "Y-Your Holiness... is that..."
"They have the Monster Prince and a wall that no cannon can crack. A direct attack is useless," Lucius said, his voice cold and cruel.
He lifted the box. Inside lay a pitch-black crystal necklace. Tears of the Goddess. A powerful brainwashing weapon banned since ancient times.
"Take this, Zephyr," Lucius ordered. "Use our shadow spies to sneak it into Winterhaven's factories. If we can't break her wall from the outside... we'll make her own workers tear each other apart from the inside."