The Mirror Maiden stared wide-eyed, her expression filled with disbelief.
So this was the truth of the so-called "commercial war."
It wasn't about buying up Liyue's assets directly at all—but about exploiting the deposit and lending functions of the Northland Bank!
With barely any initial capital, one could harvest the wealth of an entire nation.
So this was how banks were truly used.
[The Regrator]Pantalone could barely contain himself. A country's fortune lay within arm's reach, perfectly satisfying his lifelong obsession with Mora.
"Do you understand now," Severin asked calmly, "why I ordered you to spread the Northland Bank across all of Teyvat?"
"I understand completely!" Pantalone replied excitedly.
"Of the two core powers tied to currency—minting and circulation—minting lies in Morax's hands, while circulation belongs to us. Once our branches cover the continent, the flow of Mora itself will be under Snezhnaya's control. The wealth of the other six nations will become… harvestable."
The word "harvest"—another term he had learned from Severin—slipped out naturally.
"The final war we face will require unimaginable sums of Mora," Severin said.
"Fundraising will be your responsibility, Pantalone."
"I won't disappoint you, Your Highness."
Severin nodded.
"Next, the Northland Bank must not only raise interest rates to absorb deposits—but also reduce the total Mora in circulation."
"Currently, fifty percent of Liyue's Mora is stored in the Northland Bank, and fifty percent circulates in the market. If we remove just fifteen percent of what's circulating, Liyue's commerce will collapse almost immediately."
"This morning, I commissioned a weapon from a forge, demanding that one hundred billion Mora be smelted into it. You will follow up in Snezhnaya's name and order large quantities of weapons as well. Accelerate the consumption."
In Liyue, Mora was not merely currency—it was also forging material.
Once melted into steel and fused with ore, it became part of powerful alloys.
One hundred billion Mora melted meant one hundred billion Mora gone forever.
At last, Pantalone fully grasped the entire strategy.
Every step. Every lever. Every consequence.
"I'm confident this plan will succeed," he said firmly.
Then he hesitated.
"Your Highness… one concern remains. We still don't know how much Mora the Golden House has in strategic reserves. That figure is highly classified—only Liyue's upper leadership knows it."
"I'll handle that personally," Severin replied.
This was precisely why the Tsaritsa's Prince existed—to solve problems no Harbinger could.
"…There's one more small issue," Pantalone added carefully.
Severin gave him a look. "Say everything at once next time."
Pantalone laughed awkwardly.
"Our interest rates are already very high. Raising them further carries risk—"
"It's already accounted for," Severin interrupted.
"Just wait at the bank. The customers will come to you."
Both Pantalone and the Mirror Maiden froze.
This wasn't an improvised plan.
Morax's sudden retreat, the Golden House halting production, Liyue Qixing agreeing to a commercial duel—
every step had been anticipated.
That realization was terrifying.
Afterward, the rest of the delegation reported in.
Scholars from Snezhnaya had begun studying at Liyue's academies, while others purchased massive collections of books to bring home.
Invitations also flooded in—
dinners, meetings, endorsements, assistance requests.
"Your Highness," the Mirror Maiden reported,
"dozens of daughters from Liyue's wealthy families have written to you. Shall I bring them over?"
"In my spare time, perhaps," Severin replied. "They're harmless enough."
He skimmed a few letters.
"Liyue's women truly understand poetry—music, calligraphy, metaphor. Their confessions are restrained, elegant. More refined than those from Inazuma or Mondstadt."
"They'll be sleepless with joy hearing that," the Mirror Maiden smiled.
"Shall I write replies?"
"No." Severin shook his head.
"They're young. Any response—acceptance or rejection—would be magnified and might wound them. I won't shape their lives for something meaningless."
Just like the Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, forgotten by the world…
The final war would be unimaginably cruel.
"Still," the Mirror Maiden said lightly,
"unrequited love often inspires great art. Perhaps your indifference will give birth to masterpieces."
Severin only smiled.
Then she hesitated.
"There are two more letters you may wish to read. One is from [少女]哥伦比娅, and the other—from Inazuma, sent by 神里绫人, head of the Yashiro Commission."
Severin set down his tea.
The first letter was warm and familiar.
Columbina greeted him, complaining that since his departure, her singing had grown unfocused. She hoped he would return soon.
She mentioned reading Dream of the Red Chamber, especially loving Daiyu Burying Flowers, saying she often felt just as sensitive and fragile.
She had even begun composing poetry to weave into her singing—
an experiment that nearly destroyed part of the Snezhnayan palace, saved only by the Tsaritsa's intervention.
Then Severin opened the second envelope.
Though addressed by Kamisato Ayato, Severin knew better.
Ayato never wrote without reason.
Inside were two letters.
One from Kamisato Ayaka.
The other bore the fox seal of the Grand Narukami Shrine.
The handwriting alone was unmistakable.
Severin opened Yae Miko's letter first.
The very first line made his breath hitch—
"My, my… such a heartless Prince. Not even a letter for the child's mother?"
—
Yae Miko… is pregnant?!
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