Viviene had studied her son’s work for the whole morning. His accounting was far more meticulous than she’d been expecting. She had been anticipating it’d be something like her first day managing the accounts in House van Brugh—namely, that the records were so shoddy she had to end up reworking it all. Instead, it was all written out in clear, precise language. It was as if Willem expected anyone to be able to read and understand it, given enough study. The only thing that really concerned her…

  If everyone in Willem’s list joined at the rates he’d written for them, he’d end up with well over four thousand gold.

  “Don’t you think that’s highly unrealistic?” Viviene eventually asked him.

  “Five people already paid,” Willem answered back. “And I imagine that number will explode upward after the first monthly meeting. I just have to show them that there’s value added.” He held his hand out. “Mind, I don’t expect rates to be this good forever, nor do I expect one hundred percent to bite. Once competition shows up, I’ll adjust accordingly. By then, I hope to have expanded enough that it won’t matter.”

  Viviene studied the paper again, then looked at her son. “Can a hundred or so merchants really produce this much coin?”

  “Sure,” Willem nodded. “The data comes directly from the church. They have a tight grasp on things. Intermediaries everywhere. They share information between branches, too. The nameless goddess demands her offerings.” He shrugged. “It’s an average rate of around forty-five gold per person. Some pay more, some pay less. That’s a servant’s yearly salary, thereabout, and these people have plenty of those. Might be steep now, but like I said, it’s a brand-new service. Competition will drive it lower.”

  As the treasurer, Willem took two percent of assets. Assuming only half of the people on this list signed up, he’d have two thousand in the fund, and he’d take home forty gold a year. It was less than a servant. Viviene wasn’t worried about her son starving—he still had his aura, and that ensured him a place in any household. But she did wonder if this could genuinely be viable long-term.

  “How do you intend to expand?” She pressed. “Will you move into the nobility? Wealthy craftsmen, like those in the guilds?”

  “Neither,” Willem said firmly. “Merchants are underserved. Nobles have pounds of legal books and hundreds of adjudicators willing and eager to help settle their succession. Merchants lack that luxury, despite the wealth they carry. And craftsmen… I have other ideas.” He walked to the window, peering out of the port. “In part, I want to employ reputation, word-of-mouth. I could go to other cities, sure, but I lack connections elsewhere. Gent is an important port with ready access to the capital, which seems to be the hub for luxury in the whole nation. If I can give entrepreneurs reason to come here, they will.”

  Viviene set the paper down. “I think you’re discounting regional ties. Merchants won’t simply pack their bags and come here.”

  “I said ‘entrepreneurs,’ not merchants.” Willem looked back. “Life insurance and estate settling are the foundation, but they’re not going to be the building.” He walked away from the window until he stood over Viviene. “It’s a means of generating enough money to get the wheels turning, but I never intended to make a fortune with that alone.”

  Viviene briefly scanned through what else Willem had written. She looked back at her son, adjusting herself to face him earnestly. “Do you want my honest assessment, Willem?”

  He nodded. “So long as you don’t mind me ignoring it entirely if I think it’s stupid.”

  Viviene placed her hands atop her lap. “If your monthly meeting isn’t disastrous, I think you’ll easily be able to capture the merchants in the county. I think that you have the ability to become a regional monopoly, but that you’re overestimating competition. You have tremendous advantages. You could probably just ask the countess for a monopoly charter—that’s not uncommon.” She sighed. “Elsewhere, though? You’ll have difficulty.”

  “I agree, mostly. Still, better to overestimate competition so as not to find yourself exposed.” Willem leaned up against the desk Viviene sat behind. “And as I said, it’s not my long-term plan.”

  “What could you possibly know about loaning money that’s so grand?” Viviene asked incredulously. “What do you intend to tackle?”

  “The craftsman guilds.” Willem crossed his arms. “They’re so inefficient it’s nauseating. They deliberately withhold supply to keep prices high. They hoard knowledge jealously. They suppress talent. They’re deadweight, and it’s time for the invisible hand of the market to push them out to sea.”

  “The guilds,” repeated Viviene, who then shook her head. “Many have tried. Counts, duke, and kings, and still they work.”

  “I’ve dealt with unions. If they cooperate, they’ll land better than where they started.” Willem’s gaze went distant as he seemed to recall past memories. “If they don’t, I’ll bury them in silver and gold. Their profit margin is my opportunity.”

  “Talk is cheap,” Viviene pointed out.

  “Since you seem so concerned, I have a small request for you,” Willem said. “Would you like to attend the first monthly meeting? You won’t have to do anything. I just want your support.”

  “Will you charge me for wine there?” Viviene asked pointedly.

  “Of course not,” Willem said.

  “Hmm.” Viviene narrowed her eye. “If I’ve caught onto you… there won’t be any wine at all, right?” She smiled upon seeing Willem’s face darken. “I’m right, aren’t I? Well… put out some free wine, and I’ll go. Not cheap stuff, either.”

  Willem clicked his tongue. “You’re smarter than I thought.”

  “Sweetie, I’ve been dealing with deception and manipulation since long before you were born,” Viviene said, leaning forward as she crossed her legs. “You won’t get anything by me.”

  “What if I approach from your blind side?” joked Willem.

  Viviene couldn’t help but laugh. People were so hesitant to even mention the fact she was missing an eye, it totally caught her off guard. She instinctively adjusted her mask. “I implore you to try.”

  ***

  The next day, Baron Tielman was called to meet Willem by one of Anne Claire’s men. The servant named Dirk had already provided his report by that time, fortunately. He’d scanned through it, searching for any mention of the woman by the name of Petronella. She appeared briefly, and the Divulgence was mentioned. Still, for someone who acted so boldly, he’d expected a lot more of her.

  The baron went alone, this time, because his sons had repeatedly shown themselves to be incapable of keeping their opinions to themselves. He sent Hans and Godfried home, uncomfortable at the prospect of leaving the territory under the regency of his knight-commander for an extended period. He resigned to staying here for a longer while under the guise of recovery.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Still… he hadn’t forgotten the disrespect his sons had shown—both to Willem, and to his own authority. Tielman would be sure to demonstrate to his sons precisely why he was as feared as he was when he arrived home, his aura recovered. They were overdue for training. For now, he could afford no fractures in the house.

  Tielman found himself in a quaint establishment by the coast, sitting across from his son in an isolated area. His son had placed a peculiar brooch between them.

  “Take a look at that.” Willem gestured.

  Tielman picked it up with his big, calloused hands, moving it in between his fingers. He spotted something when the light shined on it in a particular way, and moving it back, raised a brow in surprise. Beneath the gem, when light shone in a particular fashion, one could see something rather rare. It was a perfect circle, containing a triangle and a square arranged in a particular fashion. The marks had a peculiar iridescence that couldn’t be imitated by anyone else.

  “The Heiden family maker’s mark?” He looked at his son. “They have a workshop here. A lesser branch of the family.”

  Willem offered his hand, and Tielman deposited the brooch there. “This was crafted by Karel van der Heiden.”

  Tielman was concerned his son had spent money frivolously, scammed by the Heidens. “Their work is expensive.”

  “Yeah, and that’s why the man is making banners and tabards instead of finely-crafted swords and armor, like back in the heyday of the family.” Willem tapped the table, choosing his words. “But the important bit is… every single person I’ve shown that to, from Dirk to you, has recognized the mark.”

  “It’s distinct.” Tielman recalled all the blades he’d seen. “Quality is assured. But we have our own smiths, and our blades are made directly by the Cabinet. If it’s a blade you need…”

  “Forget the blades. I want their reputation.” Willem put his arms on the table. “I’m holding an event in some time. The founding meeting of the Society of Assured Prosperity. My intent was to give these to any that join.”

  Tielman had already read Dirk’s report talking about this event—notably, that Willem wanted him to attend. He was honestly surprised to read that, and wondered if Dirk had misheard.

  Willem pushed forth the brooch again. “There’s trouble, though. Karel’s turning up his nose at the idea of making these for commoners.”

  “They often refuse lesser noble houses, even.” Tielman nodded. “Their prestige is all to them.”

  “Does anyone in your family have need of a new weapon?” Willem queried, but before Tielman could respond, continued, “Because if so, I’d like you to have it made at Karel’s workshop.”

  “Lennard’s blade chipped fighting griffons.” Tielman cradled his chin ponderously.

  “Karel has a bigger pitch for you,” Willem continued. “But I think he’ll be willing to make the brooches if you request only a single weapon made. I’d be doubly confident if you made an appearance. You’d be doing me a favor.”

  Tielman was hesitant. Willem had taken the vast majority of their coffer, but they still had incomes enough to afford a lone sword. But the pragmatic baron that had waged war against Avaria surfaced, whispering in his mind. If this pivotal meeting was successful, and Willem’s business was successful, it might hurt his chances of bringing Willem back into the fold.

  But this was his son. In the end, after reading Dirk’s reports… he knew how important all of this was to his son, and he wished for his son to be happy.

  Tielman nodded. “I’ll visit the workshop with Lennard.”

  Willem clapped once, a faint grin on his face. “Superb.”

  “This society meeting…” Tielman looked out the window, where the sea churned. “Who’s attending?”

  “Society members. Anne Claire. Also, Matriarch Petronella is coming.” Willem looked up thoughtfully. “I’m pleased the priestess agreed to come. I thought it would be difficult, but no.”

  Baron Tielman crossed his arms uneasily. His son had confirmed it. The woman was breath-takingly beautiful, and seemed to ardently pursue Willem’s interests, but he knew very little about her. It made him uneasy.

  “I was hoping you might attend,” Willem continued. “You don’t need to show up long, but… it’d be appreciated.”

  Tielman was inwardly happy, but kept his expression neutral. “I lack finery to wear,” he said, his tongue speaking the opposite of his mind.

  “It’s no ball,” Willem said. “Just swing by, say ‘hi.’ I don’t care if you’re in armor.”

  “…very well,” Tielman eventually agreed. “Expect my presence.”

  “Great.” Willem rose to his feet. “Let me know when you’ve visited the workshop. Still, I have to go. I have a lot I want to get done today.”

  “Hold on.” Tielman looked at his son. “Viviene. How is she?”

  Willem shrugged. “I don’t know. She seems fine. I don’t have any insight into her normal state of mind, but she survived one night under my roof.”

  Tielman took that news in silence. “And the Dubois family. Have you taken that offer?”

  Willem only smiled. “We’ll see what happens.”

  Baron Tielman closed his eyes once his son had walked away. He thought back to the times they had sparred in the training hall. Before, Willem had always seemed dead and lifeless, staring at everything as though it didn’t matter, making reckless moves that had the potential to get him hurt just as bad as his opponent. Now? Willem seemed vigorous, vivacious.

  Tielman decided to talk to Willem at that event. He would put an end to this matter, one way or another.

  ***

  Willem went away from the talk with Baron Tielman feeling quite chipper. He’d been prepared to front the cost for Lennard’s sword halfway or even entirely, but the baron decided to shoulder all the burden himself. There was always an advantage to presenting the worst offer first. The people here couldn’t hold a candle in negotiations to the businessmen he’d often dealt with.

  He didn’t expect the Brughs to relent to taking the Heidens as their smiths, but he hoped they did. Willem felt it necessary to entwine himself closer to Karel’s workshop. Long-term, he had deeper plans than mere brooches. From what Willem had seen of his workshop, the man was infinitely more prudent than those greedy, grasping craftsman guilds he’d seen. If he could, he intended to coax the man into other ventures—ventures that benefitted them both.

  The next day, Willem got word that Karel was starting his work on the rest of the brooches. He was producing two hundred. From there, the weeks whirled by. He collaborated closely with Anne Claire to ensure that it felt like each of the society members were getting more than life insurance. It was necessary to be so thorough because it was a new concept for these people.

  In the days of preparation, Willem did end up writing up a few more policies for those who saw the value in the insurance alone. The most eager among them were already discussing dates to write out their will, but for now Willem could only promise payout in the event of untimely death.

  It pointed out the need for a new employee to handle those matters. The various guilds often handled legal matters, but the preeminent legal authority for non-nobility was the church. In time, Willem might prevail upon Petronella to recommend someone. He didn’t want to get the church too involved, but outside of the merchantry and nobility, the clergywomen were the best-educated.

  Then, of course, there was Viviene Dubois. She had decided to stick around, and occasionally Willem would successfully fob off busywork on her. She was intelligent and well-educated, but clearly hesitant to commit to helping him as earnestly as someone like Dirk had been. It made him appreciate his servant all the more.

  Viviene preferred to observe, passing judgment and making the occasional snide remark. He kept her around to pressure the Brughs, and occasionally consult her about what might be appreciated at a hosted event. It was clear that she was here out of curiosity more than anything. She wanted to see if he succeeded. She was only a little motherly. She didn’t want Willem to get hurt or die, but that was the extent of it. That was the most ideal for him, anyway.

  When Willem ran out of things to do to prepare for the first monthly meeting, he started gathering information. He was routing the path that he’d take with the money he got long before he got it—overconfident, some might say, but Willem had done enough preparation that it didn’t feel just to call it that.

  The seasons marched ever onward, and soon enough, the day of the meeting came near.