The air inside the old city hall smelled of dust, fresh paint, and old parchment.

The sounds from outside—hammers, voices, and hurried footsteps—seemed muffled inside, as if the building itself were trying to focus after centuries of silence and destruction.

The windows were still covered with makeshift boards, letting in only narrow shafts of light that cut through the air in golden streaks, thick with suspended particles.

Strax sat behind a makeshift desk made of boards and sawhorses, a stack of documents in front of him.

And each new paper looked worse than the last.

He rubbed his temple with two fingers, his gaze fixed on the columns of hastily scribbled numbers and the soot-stained invoices.

"How…" he murmured, his voice low and measured, "…is it possible to owe so much gold if the city is tiny?"

Monica, in front of him, crossed her legs elegantly and kept her tone calm.

"Apparently, the former mayor was a man of 'vision,'" she said, leafing through another ledger with the care of someone handling a cursed artifact. "Outstanding contracts, loans at exorbitant interest rates with southern merchants, late fees to the bank next door… oh, and also a payment to a 'theater company' that, according to this, never existed."

She turned the page, arching an eyebrow.

"It was called 'The Maidens of the Dawn.' Very artistic."

Strax sighed, letting the paper fall to the table with a dry smack.

"So Kaelthur was bankrupt even before it burned."

"In short… yes," Monica replied, without looking up. "The fire only accelerated the process."

Strax leaned back in his chair, the weight of his dark robe dripping down the wooden arms. The heat from the embers burning in the makeshift braziers illuminated his face, highlighting his pent-up frustration.

He wasn't a spreadsheet man.

Wars, yes.

Achievements, too.

But adding columns of poorly executed digits and understanding revenue streams? That was torture.

Monica, on the other hand, seemed right at home.

Her hands moved quickly over the papers, sorting, stacking, making small notes with a sharp quill.

Her movements were methodical, calculated—almost hypnotic.

"I could just... burn it all," Strax commented, looking at the parchments with disgust. "Start from scratch."

Monica gave a soft laugh, without looking up.

"Tempting, but unproductive. And you know it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you calling me impulsive?"

"I'm saying I've seen that look before," Monica replied, finally meeting his eyes. Her honey-colored eyes held the amused gleam of someone who knew exactly what she was doing. "It's the same look you had before you nearly destroyed everything belonging to the Beast Monarch. Good thing you thought things through, and we've gained so many points of interest."

Strax gave a half-smile. "That's why I have such an efficient wife."

"Yes, yes, compliment me, stop playing the know-it-all," she retorted, turning over another thick book.

Strax let out a low growl of boredom and suppressed anger, leaning forward across the table.

"Tell me there's at least something useful in this wreckage."

Monica flipped through another volume, her sharp gaze narrowing as she read.

"Hm... here's something curious," she murmured, pulling a yellowed parchment from the stack.

Strax leaned forward to look. At the top was an ancient, cracked seal bearing the emblem of a dragon encircling three crossed spears—the crest of the former Kaelthur Merchants' Guild.

"It seems there was an ancient agreement between the city and this guild," Monica explained. "An exclusive contract for magical supply routes and metals."

"Exclusive?"

"Exactly. They controlled everything that came in and out." She tapped her finger on a line of text. "But look: the contract was personal. It was tied to the previous mayor, not the city itself."

Strax slowly looked up. "Which means…"

"…the contract expired the moment the mayor died," Monica added with a small smile. "And since it was burned down along with the old town hall, you are now the sole legitimate leader of Kaelthur."

The silence that followed was thick.

Strax looked again at the broken seal, and for the first time, boredom gave way to something more interesting: calculation.

"So all trade routes are open."

"Yes."

"With no guilds monopolizing fees or charging absurd tolls."

Monica nodded. "Technically, yes. But… that also means any merchant or regional lord can try to seize control of those routes now."

Strax was thoughtful for a moment.

Then, slowly, he began to smile.

"Excellent."

Monica blinked, confused. "Excellent? This is logistical chaos."

"It's an opportunity." "Strax said, standing up. "Chaos is always the first step toward reorganization."

He began pacing the room, his boots echoing on the worn floor.

"If Kaelthur controls the flow between neighboring kingdoms, we won't need loans or favors, but we do need manpower. The routes will be our arteries; with active trade, we can increase and expand our territory—that would truly be the best of the current scenarios. And we can create another merchant guild as soon as that guy returns from the capital."

Monica watched him with what seemed like a mixture of admiration and apprehension.

"You sound like it's easy to reorganize an entire trade network."

"It's not," Strax admitted. "But I have Yennifer and Cristine. They know how to handle espionage, plus Samira and Rogue, who have developed the Mercenary Guild I requested well. We can handle honest tolls and provide security on the surrounding roads." Besides, you're very good with numbers; it would be a great help.

"You're recruiting me to be your treasurer, are you?"

"It's too late to refuse."

She sighed, resting her chin on her hand. "I should have known this was coming."

Strax laughed, sitting back down. "And what else did you find?"

Monica pulled out another stack of papers, sorting them carefully. "Here... we have the tax records. Or what's left of them. Some names are crossed out—probably killed in the invasion—but others are still active. Farmers, small merchants, mine owners to the north."

"How many still produce anything?"

"Few. But..." she flipped through another page, "there's a curious note here. A 'forgotten mine' to the east, near the Black Mountains. The former mayor's report said it was unproductive and too dangerous."

"Dangerous how?"

Monica frowned. "He doesn't say. There's only a handwritten note: 'Sealed by order of the Arcane Council.'"

Strax leaned in, interested. "And does that Council still exist?"

"Not that I know of," Monica replied. "After the invasion that burned the city, all the mages in the administration disappeared or were killed."

The demon was silent for a moment, drumming his fingers on the table.

"A mine sealed by mages… probably isn't as unproductive as they said."

"Are you thinking of reopening it?"

"I'm thinking of checking," Strax replied, his golden eyes shining. "If it's what I imagine, perhaps we have something to replace the lost gold."

Monica looked at him with a half-smile.

"You're talking about magical ore, aren't you?"

"Or something worse."

She shook her head, amused. "You really don't know the meaning of the word 'rest.'"

"Rest is for those without ambition." "Strax replied, and his tone wasn't arrogant—it was a simple observation.

He picked up one of the scrolls and began reading it again, trying—for the tenth time—to understand the flow of expenses of the old city hall.

Each number irritated him more.

The scribes' shaky handwriting, the incorrect sums, the useless notes…

"This is an insult to logic," he grumbled. "How can they get the sum wrong three times in the same line?"

Monica tried to stifle a laugh. "The original accountant was probably drunk."

"Then he should have been thrown into the furnace with the rest."

She looked at him with an arched eyebrow. "You say that, but you're trying to learn."

Strax turned away, hiding his irritation.

"If I want to build a kingdom, I need to understand even what I hate."

"That's the most sensible thing I've ever heard you say," Monica commented.

He looked at her with a slight smile. "And that's a compliment?"

"That's the most you'll get from me today."

Strax let out a low chuckle, returning to his papers.

As he read, Monica got up and walked over to a makeshift bookshelf. She picked up a small metal chest and placed it on the table.

"I found this hidden behind a panel," she said, opening the chest with a click.

Inside, dozens of ancient coins gleamed—some gold, some silver, and even some bearing magical symbols Strax didn't recognize.

But what caught his attention most was the rolled-up parchment at the bottom.

Monica opened it carefully.

"It's a map."

Strax leaned in. "Of ancient trade routes?"

"No." She turned the map sideways, her gaze growing serious. "This shows underground passages. Ancient tunnels... leading directly from the city to the Black Mountains."

Strax was silent for a few seconds.

Then the smile returned, slow and dangerous.

"It seems the former mayor was smarter than he seemed."

"Or greedier," Monica added.

Strax stood, his cloak swaying with the movement.

"Prepare a report with all this. I want to know how much gold, timber, and ore we still have in circulation. Then, call Yennifer and Cristine." We'll need to rearrange the routes before some other power tries to do it for us.

Monica nodded, already picking up her quill and beginning to write.

"And the sealed mine?"

"I'll go there myself."

She stopped writing for a second, looking at him with an expression that mixed astonishment and resignation.

"Alone, I suppose?"

"Of course."

"You're impossible."

"That's why Kaelthur still exists."

Monica couldn't help but smile, returning to her paperwork.

As he left, the cold wind blew through the cracks in the windows and swayed the papers on the table—as if even the air recognized that something was moving, changing.

Kaelthur was being reborn.

And soon he would need a new name.

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