Low-Key Financing

Nettle mentioned the meeting almost in passing, gathering her things at the end of a long day at the merchandise cart.

"...I've got a meeting with Beelzebub," she said, already halfway out the door.

Bram blinked. "You do?"

"I do," Nettle said, and offered nothing further, grinning at the specific, familiar frustration on both their faces as she left.

She arrived at the throne room precisely on schedule, human-passing form settled into the same small, comfortable audience space he'd once used for tea and pinky fingers and considerably too much dignified theater.

"Nettle," Beelzebub said, genuinely curious. "I confess I hadn't expected a private request from you specifically. What can I do for the woman behind Baby Beelz plushies?"

"I want to open a bank," Nettle said, without preamble. "Two of them, actually. One in Tabula Rosa. One in the Demon Realm proper."

Beelzebub's expression shifted, genuine surprise breaking through his usual composure. "...A bank."

"A real one. Deposits, loans, actual financial infrastructure. Not just a merchandise stand." Nettle sat forward, entirely serious now, none of her usual playful deflection anywhere in her tone. "I've made considerable money over the past two years. More than I ever expected, honestly, more than any single person reasonably needs sitting idle in a personal vault."

"Why a bank, specifically?"

"Because I want other people to have more ways to actually get the things they need." Nettle said it plainly, without any performance behind it. "Right now, if someone wants to start a guild, expand a business, buy proper equipment for a project they care about, they need the capital sitting in their own pocket already, or they need to know someone generous enough to just hand it over. That's not sustainable, and it's not fair. Most people don't have either option."

Beelzebub studied her for a long moment, quiet, genuinely listening.

"A bank changes that," Nettle continued. "Loans, structured properly, let people actually build things they couldn't otherwise afford to start. I've got the capital to make that genuinely possible for a considerable number of people, not just the lucky few who happen to know me personally."

"And the return you'd earn on such loans?"

"Secondary," Nettle said, firm. "I'm not pretending I won't see some modest profit from proper interest rates, that's what actually keeps a bank sustainable long-term, rather than just draining my own reserves until they're gone. But that's not the point of doing this. The point is giving people access to opportunity they wouldn't otherwise have."

Beelzebub sat with that for a long, quiet moment, something genuinely warm settling into his expression.

"You've spent this entire project quietly building things beside Strawberry," he said finally. "Merchandise, transportation, aesthetic flourishes on your own ship. I confess I hadn't considered that you might have ambitions this... structural, of your own."

"I learned from watching her," Nettle admitted, something almost vulnerable in it. "She builds things because she sees a problem nobody else thought to fix. I've got my own version of that instinct, I think. Mine's just less about tunnels and dragons, and more about... making sure the actual economy behind all of it works for more people than just whoever happened to get there first."

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"A fine ambition," Beelzebub said, genuine respect warming his tone. "You have my support, and the Demon Realm's cooperation, for establishing a branch here. I imagine my subjects would benefit considerably from proper financial infrastructure, rather than relying purely on barter and personal favor."

"Thank you," Nettle said, something in her posture easing, genuine relief settling in now that the actual pitch was behind her.

"Though I confess," Beelzebub added, a familiar, teasing warmth returning to his voice, "I am now deeply curious what number actually sits in your personal reserves, if you're proposing to fund an entire banking operation from it."

Nettle's easy, practiced deflection slid back into place instantly, the vulnerability tucked neatly away again.

"I'm doing alright," she said.

Beelzebub studied her for a long moment, then let out a genuine, delighted laugh.

"...I see precisely where Strawberry gets some of her own stubbornness from now," he said. "Very well. Keep your number. I imagine it will reveal itself eventually, one bank at a time."

Arista emerged from the tunnel terminal after a full week spent in the Drowned Court, cataloguing new tourist reactions, tweaking the cart mechanism after a minor snag near frame two hundred and twelve, and, admittedly, spending a fair amount of time simply sitting near the glass with Squishy for no productive reason at all.

She'd forgotten, somewhat, how quickly Tabula Rosa managed to change whenever she stopped paying attention for more than a few days.

The building sat near the central plaza, sturdy and new, a modest but handsome storefront she genuinely didn't recognize. A freshly painted sign hung above its entrance, simple and direct.

LOW-KEY FINANCINGJust for the HELL of it.

She stared at it for a long moment, then spotted Nettle nearby, overseeing a delivery of what looked like ledgers and record boxes being carried into the new building.

"...Nettle." Arista pointed at the sign, genuinely bewildered. "What is this."

Nettle glanced over, entirely unbothered, continuing to direct the delivery crew without missing a beat. "A bank."

"A bank."

"Two, actually. This one, and a branch in the Demon Realm. Beelz approved the second one personally." Nettle finally turned her full attention toward Arista, grinning at the specific, overwhelmed expression on her face. "You disappear into a dome for a week and I open an entire financial institution. Feels about even, honestly, given everything you've built without warning me first."

"...The slogan, though." Arista pointed again, still stuck on it. "'Just for the hell of it.' That's genuinely your tagline for a bank?"

"It's accurate," Nettle said, entirely unbothered. "Half the reason I'm doing this is because I could. The other half's the branch in the Demon Realm specifically." She grinned, delighted with herself. "Felt like it earned the pun."

"...When did this happen?"

"About four days ago. Talked to Beelz, got the approval, guild had the construction crew free since the merch cart mostly runs itself at this point." Nettle shrugged, like establishing an entire banking system across two kingdoms was simply an ordinary Tuesday. "Loans, deposits, actual structured lending. People can borrow capital to start guilds, expand businesses, fund projects they couldn't otherwise afford."

Arista stared at her, genuinely delighted despite the shock. "...You built a bank."

"I built infrastructure," Nettle corrected, though there was real warmth beneath the deflection. "Same as you, honestly. You noticed people didn't have entertainment and built a swing ride. I noticed people didn't have access to capital and built a way to fix that. Different scale, same basic instinct."

Arista sat with that, something warm settling into her chest at the framing. "...When did you start thinking like that?"

"Probably around the time I watched you build an entire railway because seven kingdoms needed to actually talk to each other," Nettle said, simply. "You've been rubbing off on me this whole time, Straw. I just express it through interest rates instead of gear ratios."

Arista laughed, genuinely moved despite herself, glancing back at the sturdy, freshly painted sign. "...I'm proud of you."

"Don't get sentimental on me," Nettle said, though she was smiling, already turning back to direct the last of the delivery crates. "Come on. Come see the inside. I even had them build a little counter for you, in case Blacksmithing ever gets slow and you need a side hustle."

"...Absolutely not."

"Suit yourself. Offer stands." Nettle grinned, already heading toward the entrance. "Welcome back, by the way. How's Squishy?"

"Thriving," Arista said, following her in, still faintly stunned by the entire, unexpected turn of events. "He's got fans now. Actual fans."

"He always did," Nettle said. "They just used to be considerably smaller in number."