All My Summons Become Divine Girls

Chapter 230: Real Money

Dusk settled over the regional registry office as Hajin sat behind his desk, reviewing the local tax files while rubbing his tired eyes in the dimness. Marrick sat across from him, adding the last roof-repair claims to the regional ledger.

Marrick adjusted his round spectacles with a nervous twitch, "the regional registry is officially up to date, My Lord," he said, holding his ledger out to display the clean ink entries for the day.

Standing by the corner, Juna gestured toward the ceiling with a frown, "you should move your sleeping roll into the lord’s manor house, because the canvas sheet outside is leaking," she added, crossing her arms in annoyance as she compared him to a rat under wet timber.

Hajin did not look up from his papers, "the manor house is too large, wasting wood for heating is an unnecessary expense."

"A proper lord does not sleep in the mud," she grumbled, her tail giving a sharp flick against the wall.

Hajin countered in a dry tone, "a proper lord does not have to worry about timber quotas, we need every log for the forge."

Juna adjusted her leather belt with a weary posture, "the masons are already complaining about the cold drafts in the barracks."

Vella sat on the edge of the desk, folding boiled cloth strips into her clinic satchel, "are you afraid of entering my room at night, Master, or do you simply miss the grass where we integrated," she leaned forward with a playful smile.

Juna froze in place, her face turning crimson as the complaint slate slipped from her fingers, "we have clinic work to document," she stammered with a flushed expression, "such references are inappropriate for the census records."

Vella laughed at the reaction, her hair slipping over one shoulder as she winked at Juna, "you worry too much about the records, master does not seem to mind the integration memory."

Hajin kept his attention on the tax files, "that kiss was only to complete the contract, so it had a practical purpose."

Vella tucked the last cloth strip into her satchel before leaning against his shoulder, "I meant the second kiss, Master, the one you agreed to after the contract was already complete."

Juna snatched the complaint slate from the floor, nearly bending it between her fingers, "there was a second one?"

"A much longer one," she tapped the edge of her satchel against Hajin’s arm, "then we sat together in the grass until he woke up."

Hajin pulled Marrick’s trade ledger away from the stack, "how much came back with the wagons?"

Marrick forgot Vella at once, opening the ledger to a page crowded with fresh entries, "eighty thousand gold, My Lord, counted twice before the escort left the square."

The number removed the nineteen-week collapse from Hajin’s head, though it did nothing about the roofs, roads, grain, or forge waiting to consume it.

"Pay the next wage line first, then replace what we took from the granary," he ran a finger down the listed expenses, "the rest stays untouched until Ferra gives us a real forge cost."

Marrick turned the ledger around, showing three columns of names marked in black ink, "the miners have already started spending, and two merchants asked for stalls near the registry because they saw actual coin changing hands."

"They came after the wages," Juna rested the slate against her hip, "people argued over bread this morning without checking the gate every few breaths."

"Good," Hajin pushed the ledger back, "arguments are cheaper than funerals."

Ash climbed onto the desk while everyone watched the numbers, planting one knee on a tax file before reaching for a silver coin beside the inkwell.

Marrick caught the ink bottle before Ash knocked it over, "he has eaten six low-grade cores in three days, but apparently the regional currency still looks better."

"Cores cost less than replacing his teeth," Hajin caught the child’s wrist, "drop it."

Ash tightened both hands around the coin, stared at Hajin, then tried forcing it between his teeth before anyone could stop him.

Hajin pulled the silver piece free, "coins are not food."

Ash vanished from the desk and reappeared on his shoulders, grabbing two fistfuls of his hair as payment.

[ TaxpayerOnEarth: ] The regional lord has been overthrown for seizing private assets.

[ CringeSlayer91: ] Ash collected the hair tax personally.

[ GrandmaViewer: ] Give him something proper to chew before he eats the treasury.

[ LoreSeeker99: ] Eighty thousand gold arrives and the first theft happens inside the registry.

[ ashley (Mod): ] The coin stays out of his mouth, chat, donations do not make choking funny.

Juna lifted Ash from Hajin’s shoulders, receiving the stolen coin when the child opened his hand for her without a fight.

"He listens to me," she tucked the silver piece beside the complaint slate, "you sound annoyed even when you are feeding him."

"He pulled out enough hair to earn the tone," Hajin checked the top of his head before looking back at Marrick, "what did the returning drivers see?"

Marrick drew a folded route sheet from beneath the trade ledger, "Flint outriders watched the southern wagons until they crossed Seliza’s escort line, and the kiln road still refuses every cart carrying brick toward us."

Juna’s ears angled toward the eastern wall, "their horses crossed the ridge again before dusk, three riders this time, keeping their distance because they wanted me to notice."

"Let them count roofs," Hajin unfolded the route sheet across the desk, "they still do not know what Ferra is building beneath the smoke."

"She needs refined coal before she can finish it," Marrick placed a finger over the blocked road, "mountain clay can replace the southern brick, but local charcoal will not hold her furnace at full heat."

"Then tomorrow she tells us how many days the charcoal buys," Hajin marked the kiln road with a stub of charcoal, "after that, we decide whether Seliza finds another road or we make one."

Marrick hesitated with his hand inside the ledger before drawing out a second folded document bearing red wax.

"This arrived behind the gold wagons," he laid it apart from the payroll pages, "the Flint Patriarch requested a capital audit of every regional tax, mine claim, and trade payment made under your seal."

Hajin broke the wax with his thumb, reading until the request reached the part where the capital could suspend disputed assets during review.

"He cannot stop Seliza from buying the gold," Marrick kept his voice down as Ash reached toward the red seal, "so he wants a clerk to declare that we never owned it."

"Can the capital do that?" Juna shifted Ash away from the paper, keeping one hand around his waist.

"They can try," Hajin folded the request along its old crease, "send them copies of the land grant, Seliza’s contract, and every wage page with a worker’s mark on it."

Marrick stared at the audit request, "that gives them the mine output, the payroll size, and most of our current stores."

"They already have scouts for bad numbers," Hajin set the red-sealed paper beneath the heavier trade ledger, "we give the capital accurate ones, then make the Flints lie in writing if they want the gold frozen."

Outside, a hammer struck the forge basin three times before Ferra shouted at someone to bring another clay brace.

Juna listened toward the sound while Ash copied each hammer strike against her slate with his palm.

"Three riders will become more," she adjusted her hold on him, "and paper will not keep them outside the wall."

Hajin gathered the route sheet, the payroll, and the audit request into separate piles, "no, but it tells us which wall they plan to touch first."