“Brother, with this much money, we can accomplish so much!”
The moment the contract was signed and locked away in the most secure safe in the office, Ernest could no longer suppress the excitement welling up inside him.
He turned to Enciodes, eyes glistening with emotion.
Even after living two lives, even with years of political experience and a clear understanding of human nature, even as a transmigrator, this was the first time Ernest truly felt that he had changed something.
A total loan of 600 million Columbian gold certificates.
Compared to the six square kilometers of land he had put up as collateral, it was undeniably a bargain sale.
But for Kjerag as it was now, it was still an enormous sum.
An amount large enough to give every dream a proper beginning.
Enough to set the gears of fate in motion.
“And what do you plan to do with it?”
Unlike Ernest’s excitement, Enciodes remained composed.
Rather than celebrating, he was more concerned about how the money would be used.
Ernest answered without hesitation, his tone firm.
“Build schools.”
“Build schools, hire teachers, enforce education for children of school age, and develop our education system.
This has to be done.”
He understood Kjerag’s reality all too well.
The people in power—the Grand Elder, Arctosz, Ratatos—they were not unintelligent.
As Gnosis once remarked, they were simply limited by the environment they had grown up in.
The older generation’s worldview was already set.
Their lives followed established patterns.
Expecting them to change was difficult.
But children were different.
Why had Enciodes SilverAsh become the driving force behind Kjerag’s modernization?
Was it purely talent or foresight?
No.
That was Ernest’s advantage as a transmigrator.
What set Enciodes apart was education.
The education he received from his family as a child, the education from studying abroad in his youth, and the lessons learned from rivals later in life.
So what if more people in Kjerag received better, more modern, more systematic education?
Then there would be more Enciodeses.
More Karlan Trade.
More people striving toward modernization.
Every social transformation requires fertile ground.
Ernest intended to cultivate that ground.
Enciodes stared at him for a long moment.
Finally, he nodded.
“You’re right.
Education… I overlooked that.
He stood and watched Ernest’s retreating figure as he strode out, brimming with energy, ready to put his plans into action.
In Enciodes’s silver-gray eyes, however, there was a trace of heaviness.
After Ernest left, Enciodes slowly put on his coat and stepped out of the modest office.
Outside, one of his trusted aides, Matterhorn Yek, was already waiting, holding open the car door.
Enciodes entered the vehicle.
Once Matterhorn took the driver’s seat, he let out a long breath and spoke:
“Matterhorn, go to the Tschäggättä unit.
Tell them to be ready to mobilize at any time.”
“Sir?” Matterhorn glanced at him through the rearview mirror, surprised.
“But their training isn’t complete yet.
If they appear now—”
“Do as I say.”
Enciodes’s tone was firm.
Though his gaze remained steady, his thoughts drifted back to Ernest’s tearful excitement.
“I won’t help him.
But I won’t stand by and watch him fall into danger either.”
“Let’s see how long my surprising little brother can keep this performance going.”
___
Northeast of Turicum, the wastelands.
Though no formal census had been conducted, it was widely accepted that Kjerag’s population exceeded one million.
Yet those people were not scattered across the vast mountains like seeds.
Instead, they were concentrated in dozens of habitable lake and forest regions, living under the rule of the three great families.
Because of this, Kjerag—despite appearing massive on the map—remained sparsely populated, with vast stretches of undeveloped land.
And when it came to frontier development, Columbians had plenty to say.
As a development consultant for Magnus Bank and a renowned pioneer in Columbia, Anton Magnus often felt his blood pressure rise whenever he saw Kjerag’s inefficient methods of land development.
To him, Kjerag was nothing short of a miracle.
A land akin to the promised paradise described in Laterano doctrine.
It was rich in natural resources, dense in ecosystems, inhabited by a backward native civilization—and led by a leader both intelligent and open-minded.
…No, not a president.
A prime minister.
He sincerely hoped every Kjerag citizen he met would be this reasonable.
Unfortunately, the Ursus man in front of him was anything but.
“Sir, we are staff from Columbia’s Magnus Bank.
We have obtained permission from your government to conduct on-site inspections and visits here.
You have no grounds to stop us.”
The bodyguard in front of Anton repeated their credentials again and again, but the rough Ursus man treated it all like meaningless noise.
He pushed forward stubbornly, trying to charge toward Anton, shouting at the top of his lungs:
“Then make it clear, what exactly are you here to do!”
After a third failed attempt to drive him off, the bodyguard finally drew his weapon, ready to teach the unruly man a lesson.
The development consultant adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, brushed the snow off his suit, stepped past the guards, and approached with deliberate composure.
Looking down at the Ursus man, he spoke in a formal tone:
“Sir, whoever you are, whatever your intentions, please do not interfere with our work.
Understood?”
“Work?” Gulo shook off the hands restraining him, straightened his back, and shot back defiantly.
“I heard what you said.
You’re going to turn this place into some kind of… snow mountain villa district?
Sell it to those Columbia people?
What kind of work is that?
Who gave you the right?
This is Kjerag!”
Anton looked exasperated, but still tried to explain.
“My apologies, that was a poor choice of words.
This land does not yet belong to us, and I can apologize for that phrasing.
However, I must remind you, sir, that our purpose here is to evaluate this area as a qualified collateral asset for a loan.
If we are merely conducting an inspection, you have no authority to obstruct us.”
As he spoke, he extended a hand to the staff beside him, took the folder containing the contract attachments and copies, and handed it to Gulo.
“As for who granted us this authority, you may inquire at your government offices and ask your officials directly, rather than entangling yourself with me.
I am simply exercising the rights stipulated in this contract.”
Contract.
Government.
Loan collateral.
A flood of unfamiliar terms crashed into Gulo’s mind, turning his thoughts into a muddled mess.
He took the folder, opened it, and began reading the contract written in both Kjerag script and Columbian language.
His level of education was not high.
Even with a bilingual document, he could only understand fragments of it.
But those fragments were enough.
Anton Magnus was already growing impatient.
He reached out, intending to take the copy back, when something felt off.
The Ursus man, who had been merely agitated and crude moments ago, did not calm down after reading the contract.
Instead, his chest heaved violently, and the part of his face visible above the folder flushed deep red.
Then, to everyone’s shock, he suddenly roared.
With a violent motion, he tore the copied pages from the folder, ripped them to shreds in a few swift motions, and hurled the empty folder into the snow.
He glared viciously at Anton and the others, as if about to lunge forward, but after realizing he was outnumbered, he held himself back and instead shouted:
“Just you wait!
You’d better not leave!”
“Enciodes!
Lord Arctosz!
By the grace of Kjeragandr!
Ernest is going to sell our home!”