I lean forward.
"He needs to see that the paper is gold. Once he realizes he can walk in here and walk out with coin in ten seconds, the fear vanishes."
"But if they all cash out..." Jan starts.
"That is where you come in," I interrupt. "When the butcher comes in with ten slips from ten different wives, he will be holding a heavy bag of coin. He has to walk back to his shop through the streets. He has to worry about pickpockets. He has to worry about his apprentices stealing from the till ."
I tap the desk.
"You will say to him: 'Master Butcher, that looks heavy. Why not open a Merchant Account? We can deposit these slips directly. And when you need to buy cattle from the farmer, you can simply write him a slip.''
Jan’s eyes widen. "We turn the merchants into depositors."
"Exactly. We create a loop. The wife pays the merchant. The merchant pays the supplier. The supplier pays the farmer. If we do it right, the gold never actually leaves the vault. It just moves from page 4 to page 12 of your ledger."
"And if they refuse?" Jan asks.
"Then we pay them in copper," I say wickedly. "Sacks and sacks of heavy, inconvenient copper. Let them drag that through the mud a few times. They will be begging for a paper account by the end of the week."
I stand up.
"Now, send runners to the Guild Halls. Post a notice: 'The Royal Fey Bank guarantees all Silver Ledger slips with full gold backing. Redeemable upon sight.' Make it official. Make it look boring. Boring is trustworthy."
Jan nods, scribbling notes furiously.
"Social pressure to accept it," he mutters. "Instant gold to prove it. Inconvenience to keep it. It is... diabolical."
"It is banking, Jan," I say, opening the door. "Now go. I suspect Frau Gerta is already buying a great deal of silk, and I want that shopkeeper paid before he can even blink."
The Midwinter Feast is a riot of noise, fire, and forced cheer. The Great Hall is decked in holly and ivy, and huge logs burn in the hearths. The air is scented with pine and cinnamon.
The court is dressed in their finest, though I notice with a smirk that the Royal Guard, standing at the perimeter in their superior, Fey-funded cloaks, are the warmest people in the room.
Oskar sits on his throne, wearing the expression of a man who has eaten too much rich food and regrets everything. He drinks deeply from his goblet, one of the new silver ones with the vine-wrapped handle and my name stamped on the bottom, and tries to ignore the fact that half his court is currently gossiping about the smoothness of the road I paved.
It is time for the exchange of gifts. Lords and ladies parade forward, offering jewels, fine horses, and casks of wine. Oskar nods and waves them away, looking bored, until he spots me. We stand in line behind the Earls with the other Viscounts. Oskar's eyes meet mine and he stiffens. He knows I have been busy. If only he knew just how busy I have been.
I step forward, Kenric at my side. I am dressed in a gown of ice-blue Fey silk that rustles with a sound like wind through frozen leaves. Behind us, Inaba and Miyabe carry a large, flat chest made of rough-hewn cedar.
“Your Majesty,” I say, dipping into a curtsy that is jaunty rather than deferential. “It is a humble gift. Something that I made just for you.”
Oskar eyes the chest warily. “You have already clothed the army, paved the streets, and lit the night, Princess. I shudder to think what you have decided needs ‘improving’ now.”
“Just your wardrobe, Sire,” I smile brightly. “I noticed you seemed cold when I ran into you in the garden. And since winter is here, I thought you needed something substantial... to keep you warm.”
I signal my guards. They open the chest.
A collective gasp ripples through the hall, followed by a confused silence. The chest is full of thick, dark, glossy fur. Inaba and Miyabe pull it out to display it.
It is massive. It is made from the pelt of a bear so large it could have swatted a carriage like a fly. The fur is so thick that, despite being stitched back together, it seems pristine, but I have left it unlined. A heavy platinum clasp, worked as Oskar's royal seal, to hold it in place is my only addition.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
The inside of the cloak looks like a quilt made by a blind giant. The every inch of inside of the cloak is a map of violence.
Hundreds of stitches crisscross the hide, pulling together jagged tears and deep, parallel gouges in a chaotic roadmap.
It looks as though the beast was put through a meat grinder. It looks like it was shredded by something with claws sharper than steel and a temper hotter than fire.
Oskar stares at it. “Is that… a bear?”
“It was… It was quite a nuisance, really,” I say lightly, stepping closer to touch the fur. “It attacked us near the lodge. It was a stubborn beast. It did not want to die.”
I run a gloved finger along a particularly nasty scar in the leather where the throat had been ripped out and sewn back together.
“It required… hands-on management,” I murmur, looking directly into Oskar’s eyes. “I had to climb onto its back to convince it to stop roaring.”
“You… you killed this?” Oskar whispers, looking at the remains of the once massive beast.
The court is stifling giggles. Kenric is biting the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face.
Kenric nods, keeping his face impassive. “It was a very short fight, Your Majesty.”
“I did,” I chirp. “It was a very rude bear. It interrupted our honeymoon."
This comment is not lost on Oskar.
Inaba and Miyabe step forward to drape the cloak around the King’s shoulders. It is immensely heavy, nearly two stone, since it was a very large bear. Even at his size which towers over my own, Oskar actually sags under the weight.
He stands there, looking like a child playing dress-up in his father’s rug. The smell of cured leather, wild musk, and cedar fills the air, completely overpowering the King’s expensive perfume.
“It is… heavy,” Oskar wheezes.
“It is a hug, Your Majesty!” I beam. “A big, warm, bear hug. To keep you safe from the drafts in the palace. I noticed the insulation is still terrible in the royal wing. I have some ideas about that, actually. I was thinking we could rip out the paneling and—”
“No!” Oskar interrupts quickly. “The paneling is fine. The cloak is… sufficient.”
“Excellent,” I say.
Oskar looks down at the cloak. He looks at the shredded hide. He smells the musk.
Oskar stares at me. He realizes that every time he wears this, he will look like he is being swallowed by a bear, and everyone will know I gave it to him.
He also realizes that I have noticed the drafts in his wing of the palace, and if he doesn’t get rid of me, I am going to start renovating his personal quarters at some point.
“You are too generous,” he says, his voice tight.
“Nonsense,” I wave a hand. “I am just getting started. I have been looking at the throne, actually. It looks a bit uncomfortable. I was thinking of commissioning some cushions. You seem to need some back support. Maybe something in an orange velvet? With tassels? I could have the seamstresses here by morning.”
Oskar’s eyes go wide. He looks at Kenric. He looks at the bear cloak. He looks at the prospect of me redecorating and renovating his entire life. He opens his mouth, and I see the dismissal forming on his lips. He wants to scream ‘GO!’ He wants to banish us to the farthest corner of Herrenstein.
But then, his eyes flicker to the side. I glance in the same direction. Duke Basten is still sitting in the dungeons. Duke Aart hasn't been seen in weeks, but Duke Nelis, Duke Hedde, and Duke Keimpe are standing near the wine casks, watching intently.
Damnation, Jellema is in on whatever this is. All three of them are grinning. They are whispering. They look delighted.
Oskar closes his mouth. He swallows his rage. He remembers the bet. If he admits defeat now... If he sends me away, he loses.
He forces a smile. It is a terrible, rictus grimace that looks like he is chewing on something even more sour than a lemon.
“Orange velvet,” he chokes out. “How… inventive.”
Oskar doesn't realize it, at least not yet, but the burnt orange color I have in mind will be amazing against the Centis offical dark royal blue. I will turn his palace into something that looks like a proper palace before the investors begin showing up.
Some brighter colors in the palace might even perk him up a bit. He's been very subdued lately. I wonder if I've broken him. If not, I shall have to try harder.
“I knew you would like it!” I beam. “So, shall I send for the fabric? Or perhaps we should discuss the curtains in the solar first? They are dreadfully dusty.”
“We have all winter to discuss curtains, Princess,” Oskar says, his voice straining with the effort to sound welcoming. “I would not dream of sending you away in such weather. You must stay. The court… values your contributions.”
He glares at the dukes as he says it.
“Are you certain, Sire?” Kenric asks, looking genuinely hopeful for a dismissal. “The passes to Herrenstein will close soon. If we do not leave now…”
“You must stay!” Oskar barks, too loudly. He composes himself, wrapping the mutilated bear skin tighter around his shoulders. “You stay. The roads are treacherous. And besides… I have grown fond of the Princess’s… spirit.”
He looks at me with eyes that promise retribution. I remain calm and let his threat roll past me. I killed the bear he's wearing with my teeth and claws.
“Stay, Princess,” he commands. “We have so much more to discuss.”
I drop into a deep, mocking curtsy. “As you wish, Your Majesty. There is so much for me to do here. I haven’t even started on the carpets yet.”
Oskar winces, but he raises his goblet. “To the Fey Embassy,” he toasts grimly. “And to a long, long winter.”
I smile back. He thinks he can outlast me. He thinks he is stronger than my capacity to be annoying.
He is wrong. I shall have to show him just how wrong.
“To winter,” I agree as I begin plotting my next assault.
I turn to the Queen.
"Your Majesty," I say, my voice softening into genuine warmth. "As you know, circumstances required me to present your Midwinter gift somewhat earlier than tradition dictates."
Grethe smiles, touching the dazzling piece on her head. "It was a welcome surprise, Princess."
"However," I continue, beckoning Melina forward. "A Queen should never be incomplete. And that coronet looks lonely without its companion."
Melina opens a long, flat velvet box. I lift out the necklace.
It is exquisite. I crafted it based on a design I made for Duchess Priscilla, weaving metal like living vines, but I altered the palette to perfectly match the pastel coronet Grethe already wears.
The platinum vines hold a cascading array of gems. Diamonds for frost. Jade and emeralds for the leaves. Dozens of different gems for the flower petals, soft aquamarines, rose quartz with kunzunite, iolite, oddly colored sapphires, and others. It glitters under the torchlight, a river of spring frozen in metal.
"A replacement gift," I say, fastening it around her neck myself. "To ensure that the Queen of Centis outshines every star in the sky."
Grethe touches the cool stones, her eyes misty. "It is... too much, Víl?."
"Nonsense," I whisper, stepping back so the court can admire it. "It is exactly enough."
"For Duke Hedde Jellema," I call out next.
Chapter 114 was delightfully unhinged to write. We’re finally seeing all three layers of the banking system working together, and the Silver Ledger loop is evolving into a self?sustaining economic engine — or a self?aware monster, depending on who you ask.
Meanwhile, Oskar has entered his “confusion and fear” era, and honestly, he earns every second of it. The bear cloak scene might be peak Fey mischief: a perfect blend of intimidation, artistry, and petty vengeance. The fact that the court loves it only makes it funnier.
The Midwinter Feast gave us a great chance to check in on the court’s shifting power dynamics. Gerta’s rise as a tastemaker continues, the dukes are absolutely eating popcorn in the background, and the Queen’s gift might be one of the most genuinely heartfelt moments in the series so far.
And now Oskar has publicly committed to keeping the MC in Centis for the winter .Poor man. He truly has no idea what he’s invited into his house.
Your turn:
- Do you think the Oskar believes that she killed the bear?
Let me know your answer in the comments.