Miller shook his head. “We strongly believe Duke LeonCraft is going to send one of his trusted aides to the North. His goal will be to lobby the neighboring territory lords into enacting a joint safety regulation law, one that heavily taxes any registered craftsmen working in high-altitude regions. It’s the most legally sound way he can permanently prevent us from building new roads.”
Francesca hummed, immediately grasping the ruthless logic behind the hypothesis. “Any proposed counter-solutions?”
Miller let out a heavy, defeated sigh. “The vassals are completely fixated on the single idea of abandoning the Third Prince's faction. They've drilled that into their heads, and now they stubbornly refuse to look at any other viable solutions.”
“When a cat finds a bowl of milk, it completely forgets about the fish,” Francesca muttered, quoting a cynical proverb from her past life. “What do you think we should do?”
Miller turned his gaze toward the ceiling, his brow furrowing. “I was thinking of deploying some of our mercenary units into the surrounding border forests. If we selectively drive the wild beast populations into the neighboring territories, it will artificially drive up their raw material and security costs even further. It might cause the local craftsmen to heavily distrust and protest the new law, since their livelihoods depend entirely on stable material prices...”
“But that is a double-edged sword. It will only temporarily delay the law, while simultaneously driving up the material prices for us as well, meaning we still won't be able to afford the roads,” Francesca countered, perfectly breaking down the pros and cons of his military strategy. “It’s merely a patchwork fix, Miller. It isn't a direct solution.”
Miller sighed heavily, tightening his grip around her. “Currently... patchwork fixes are the only things I have.” He buried his face slightly into her silver hair, murmuring in frustration, “If only there was a way for us to trade goods without relying on roads entirely.”
The words struck a massive chord in Francesca's brain. A brilliant spark of idea instantly ignited behind her eyes. She froze, snapping her head up to lock her gaze onto Miller. “What did you just say?”
“Uh... if only we could trade goods without roads...?” Miller repeated, blinking in confusion at her sudden intensity.
“Miller, that is an absolutely amazing idea!!” Francesca gasped. In her sheer excitement, she sat straight up on the mattress, leaned down, and planted a sudden, passionate peck right on his cheek.
“It... It is...?” Miller stammered. He was completely flustered and blushing a bright, furious crimson from the sudden affection, sitting up right alongside her.
Francesca didn't care about his blushing face; her mind was already racing at a hundred miles an hour. She threw both of her hands up into the air toward him, a brilliant, commanding smirk on her face.
“Pick me up! Take me to your study right this second! I have a solution!”
“I heard that a large portion of our citizens are forced to live in crowded, rented rooms, even though the Viscounty technically possesses an abundance of open space and plenty of empty land for construction, simply because of low income?” Francesca asked. She was currently sitting on the edge of the large study table, meticulously stacking a chair and several heavy books on top of it.
“Yes, that is the current situation,” Miller answered. He was busy in the corner of the room, fixing a wooden pulley and adjusting a length of thick rope. Turning around to face her, he added, “The vassals are the primary landlords for many of those rental homes the people live in. Because of that, they are abundantly opposed to providing any subsidies or grants that would allow citizens to build their own homes.”
“The vassals again, huh...” Francesca sighed, carefully balancing another book on top of the growing tower.
“I still don’t quite understand why you are building a tower in the middle of the night... why can’t you just tell me the solution?” Miller muttered. He stepped over and handed her the pulley.
Francesca took it and placed it right at the absolute peak of the stack. “It’s not a tower, Miller! It’s the Ironwood mountain.”
“Ah... I see...” Miller nodded, studying the strange makeshift mountain made of a table, a chair, and a pile of books.
“Here, nail the pulley to the mountain,” Francesca said, handing him a hammer from the desk.
Miller took it, raising an eyebrow in amusement as he stepped up to line up the mechanism against the makeshift structure.
Thud... thud...
The rhythmic sounds of the hammer striking the wood resonated clearly through the otherwise silent study. Francesca placed both of her palms beneath her chin, resting her elbows on her knees as she watched Miller work.
“You know... I’ve been meaning to ask,” she began softly. “You were a young commoner and deployed on the front lines of the battlefield for years, yet you are remarkably well-informed and highly educated. How is that?”
Thack!
Miller hammered home the final few nails before looking back at her over his shoulder. “Oh, that. Even though he was completely abandoned by the court, the Third Prince is still a member of the Imperial family. He was forced to take private tutoring classes. The problem was, he flatly refused to do them alone, so Kenny, Stella, and I had to sit through every single lecture right alongside him.”
Francesca chuckled, delighted by the mental image of the fierce mercenaries being forced to study imperial ethics.
“So, are you finally going to tell me what exactly this is supposed to be?” Miller asked, setting the hammer down.
Francesca handed him the rope. “Thread it through the pulley. I got the inspiration for it from the counterweight service lifts the servants used in the dining room.”
“Building a massive vertical shaft system will take an immense amount of money and time, very similar to the road infrastructure project,” Miller noted as he threaded the rope over the top pulley and anchored it to another one resting on the floor. “Tunneling through the mountain rock for vertical shafts might be entirely-”
“That’s not what we are building,” Francesca clarified with a bright smile. She held both of her arms up toward him.
Miller smiled back, leaning down to effortlessly pick her up from the table. He handed her the polished cane, holding her steady until she gained her footing right next to him.
Looking at the rope suspension model stretching across the study, Francesca smirked. “It’s a small scale model for a cable cart system!”