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Episode 10 – You Want Me to Join the War? Me?

The nobles were in disbelief.

A mere commoner.

They were lowborn creatures, fundamentally different from themselves, who had been born noble and nurtured through education and experience.

Yet, how could a commoner possibly accomplish such things…?

As if anticipating the nobles’ reactions, Erica smiled.

Her sharp canines peeked out as she grinned, visibly delighted by their dumbfounded expressions.

“How’s the stove distribution rate, Vivian?”

“28%. That figure excludes the knights, who were already fully supplied, and only counts the soldiers.”

“Will they hold up through winter?”

“They performed well in durability tests, and since they’re cheaper to produce than iron swords, there shouldn’t be any issues.

Within about two weeks, we estimate that all conscripted soldiers will be successfully supplied with stoves.”

Now, they had secured a means of mobility even in winter.

Though this was only a minor civil conflict, those present were lords with prior wartime experience.

They understood all too well how significant it was to maintain movement without disruption when the bitter cold could flay the skin.

“The pencils we released recently… sold far better than expected. Scholars, in particular, took a liking to them, and many commoners purchased them as well.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of those. They’re excellent for sketching. Are you telling me a commoner made those?”

At that, one noble responded positively.

Unlike simple charcoal or lumps of graphite, these pencils could be kept sharp and rendered shading naturally.

An aristocratic artist brimming with ideas—how they could now draw monochrome sketches without expensive pigments.

Perhaps this tool would revolutionize the art world.

No longer confined to murals or large leather canvases, even small sheets of paper could now carry artistry.

The noble reminisced about the wondrous revelation when their subordinate first brought them a pencil to try.

Without delay, Erica disclosed the profits earned from the pencils.

“Over two weeks, the profit amounted to nine gold coins.”

“Nine gold coins…?”

“To earn that much in just two weeks…?”

Murmurs spread among the nobles.

Nine gold coins—equivalent to roughly 90 million won in modern currency.

For a product with such cheap raw material costs, and without even formal advertising or word-of-mouth hype…

The calculative minds of the nobles spun furiously.

But Erica wasn’t done yet.

“And we’ve successfully mass-produced books. We can print endless copies now.”

“Books… you say?”

“Yes. We’ve already begun sales. Precise profit margins are still being calculated, but…”

Deliberately, Erica trailed off.

The ability to reproduce books—a chance to obtain quality volumes at affordable prices while gaining access to superior knowledge.

With each revelation, the nobles grew more favorably inclined.

Mobility without winter casualties.

An art revolution and revenue stream from pencils.

The opportunity to preserve precious knowledge through book duplication, alongside Redmain’s specialties.

Even if it meant being compared to a commoner, these were achievements even nobles couldn’t deny.

Yet, some remained unconvinced.

Most were either staunch aristocrats… or old-fashioned sticklers.

“I acknowledge your remarkable abilities.”

“Wasn’t she handpicked by Your Grace yourself?”

Erica puffed up proudly.

Though her short stature and modest bust lent her a somewhat adorable air, no one dared voice such thoughts.

“However, dining with the Grace family or residing in the same mansion is unacceptable.”

But why were they called sticklers?

Because they failed to adapt to changing times.

These were nobles who devoutly upheld the aristocracy and class system entrenched since antiquity.

Regardless of talent, they dismissed her as a commoner—

A temporary tool to be used, drained of value, and discarded.

But with the nobility now evenly split for and against, the situation had improved.

“Even if she’s a commoner, she’s accomplished great things.”

“So you’re defending commoners now?”

At this point, Erica’s plan was already a resounding success.

But as the saying goes, old politicians are cunning—the Marquis began probing deeper.

Specifically, by invoking the name of the person Erica feared and guarded against most.

“Do you truly wish to lose everything to Cecilia of House Lacxia?”

Her breath caught sharply.

Cecilia Lacxia.

A pretentious name for a pretentious woman.

A shameless bastard draped in theatrics and false nobility.

Yet, through sheer talent and masterful image-building, she had clawed her way into inheriting the Lacxia name despite her illegitimate birth.

She was Erica’s former classmate, once a friend, now a rival.

Erica’s polar opposite—tall, voluptuous, with radiant golden locks.

Unlike Erica, who valued merit over status, Cecilia rigidly worshipped the class system.

“What do you mean, Marquis?”

“Exactly what I said.”

The old man’s hair and beard were stark white, his skin wrinkled and sagging—but his piercing eyes gleamed with unsettling clarity.

“Cecilia Lacxia strictly divides nobles and commoners.

That’s how she’s won the favor of countless nobles, accelerating regional unification despite her status as a marquess.

She’s amassed allies, all while remaining your rival.”

Simply put, birds of a feather flocked together.

Unlike Erica, Cecilia respected nobles and treated them well.

While Erica recruited commoners, Cecilia pursued exclusivity.

In modern terms, a cheap eatery for the masses versus a high-end restaurant for nobility.

In an age of warlords, aristocratic alliances were crucial.

If you were a noble, who would you side with?

The answer was obvious.

“Do you truly wish to lose everything to House Lacxia?”

His words plunged Erica into contemplation.

Was she debating abandoning Cain?

No—she was pondering how to silence this old fool.

After a brief struggle, she proposed a solution.

“Then, what if Cain is elevated to nobility… Would that resolve the issue?”

“Wh-what nonsense—?!”

The nobles turned ashen, staring at her in disbelief.

Bestowing noble titles was the emperor’s sole privilege.

To ignore that and grant a title would be treason.

“Don’t I have one noble title to grant?”

“…A baronetcy.”

A baronet.

An ambiguous rank—above a knight, below a baron.

A hollow title carrying nobility in name only, meant as an honorary gesture devoid of real power.

But technically, it was still nobility.

A tradition dating back to the empire’s founding—who could protest?

Yet, the stubborn old man objected once more.

“Elevating someone without merit—it’s absurd.

Every noble here would oppose it.”

“Hmmm…?”

Erica snorted, peering down at them from her diminutive height.

In modern terms, equivalent to saying a sergeant didn’t earn their stripes through luck.

Meaning—they needed a valid pretext to justify Cain’s promotion.

But Erica was shrewd enough to anticipate their concerns.

Their fear was singular.

‘They’re scared… scared of what our fox—no, our sly little Cain—has created.’

Pencils and books.

Even these haughty nobles couldn’t deny their commercial promise.

Where would such products debut? Certainly not elsewhere—they’d flood Grayce’s market first, spreading gradually before being exported.

But did wealth exist infinitely?

No.

Without counterfeit coins, only the imperial mint could produce currency.

Meaning—profits from books, pencils, and future products would drain local coffers as they circulated.

Affecting levy funds, private armies… diminishing aristocratic influence.

They didn’t want to dance to Erica’s tune.

They feared losing corrupt advantages.

And every coin funneled into Presea only strengthened Erica further.

‘That’s why they covet our fox… She’s a cash cow boosting central authority through exports.

That’s why they can’t let go.’

Admittedly… maybe Erica had a sliver of personal affection for Cain.

Still, she was indispensable.

Turning toward the nobles, Erica declared:

“Then I’ll personally conquer Penrose—the ones who ignored my missives.”

“Wh-what…?!”

“But it’s winter now—!!”

She raised a hand, silencing them.

“Do you take me for a fool?”

“N-no…”

“I don’t fight unwinnable battles.

Besides, those who skipped today’s meeting yet sent ‘positive’ signals need a warning.”

And after dragging her fox into battle, she’d grant Cain a baronetcy for merit.

Ah, where else would they find a lord who adored talent so?

A ruler who’d wage war for her beloved fox!

Post-meeting, Erica proudly relayed the plan to her bewildered subordinate—small chest puffed out.

“Me?!”

The sight of the fox clutching her head in agony was priceless.

Truly, she was blessed—to serve under such a master.