Chapter 46 46: a productive family meeting

------------------------- If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know. Leave a comment; support is always appreciated. I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see. ------------------------------- Sommerzeit 10th ,2488 IC "A rather clever use of your abilities, if you ask me, young apprentice," said Hieronymus, crossing his good arm as he listened attentively to the tale of my hunt. "Most wizards would never use their gift like that. They use their sense for metal merely to detect immediate threats or to track enemy weapons... but you've extended it as if your very skin were attuned to the hidden veins of the earth. That's uncommon." I merely nodded as I hung the heavy cloak and began undoing the clasps of the protective gear the dwarf had sold me. My back still ached from hours of fighting among twisted trees and treacherous roots. "I was thinking... is it possible to use the iron in blood to detect people who aren't carrying any metal?" I asked quietly, more to myself than to him. Hieronymus raised an eyebrow. "Ah... using your mundane knowledge to skip steps. Not bad. It is possible, yes, but extremely difficult. Only those deeply in tune with Chamon can feel the iron within. It's an exercise in absolute sensitivity. The wind of metal does not flow through blood as it does through a breastplate or sword. It's... more subtle. Even I have yet to master it—only occasionally can I feel a trace of it. But if you succeed... even if it takes thirty years, you would be the youngest wizard in history to do so. In fact, you're already the youngest I've ever met capable of detecting metals so easily when drawn by Chamon." I sat down beside the stone bench and stretched. "When this affair with the margrave is over, I'll have time. If I can fully pacify my lands, I'll be able to devote myself entirely to your grimoires." Hieronymus let out a dry laugh. "You sound so certain of victory. But tell me, what will you do if the judges receive more generous gifts than yours? The margrave controls a vital trade route. Even if you sell your pigment for its weight in gold, you're limited by how much you can produce. And every time you leave the lab to hunt or fight something, that's a day you produce no income—in fact, you lose money every time you're not in your castle, considering your considerable expenses." "I don't have his costs. His thousands of soldiers must be paid month after month. He must protect merchants, fight bandits, maintain clean roads. Even his beast hunts are investments... though, yes, he does make a lot from them," I said, scratching my chin. "I earned a thousand crowns in a matter of days, just by pointing out where the beasts were hiding." "And if all else fails," said Hieronymus with a crooked smile, "you'll at least have the consolation of heading straight to Altdorf. You could study among the wizards of Chamon and wouldn't have to suffer that old bastard's whims. You might even become the Golden Apprentice... with what you know and your affinity for Chamon, the masters would fight over who gets to be your mentor. I have no doubt you'd become the leader of the Gold Order." "I won't let that wretch steal what's mine. Though... speaking of inheritance... my family is outside. They're waiting for me." "I thought only your father was still alive?" the wizard asked, curious. "My maternal grandfather. It has to be him. My mother left me at birth, or so I've been told. Apparently, she was terrified of my father. And well... I can't blame her. He was the kind of man who killed first and asked questions later. But honestly, I couldn't care less." Hieronymus sighed and shook his head, as if something weighed on his heart. "Some squander what others yearn for all their lives..." I stood up, brushing the dust from my doublet. "Today, the carpenter is supposed to have the paper press ready. If he doesn't, I'll hang him at the village gate. I'm tired of his incompetence. I should've asked the dwarf smith from the start... with that and a shipment I'm expecting from Rutger, I'll show you something that will drive Imperial alchemists mad," I said while fastening my leather gloves. "And it will, without a doubt, make me the richest man in the Empire... if I can produce it in large enough quantities." Hieronymus raised his eyebrows with an expression he rarely showed: genuine excitement. "What is it? Come on! At least tell me what material you used, or whether it's based on something you've already shown me. Come now, boy, don't leave me in suspense..." I smiled, savoring every second. "Ah, ah, ah... excessive curiosity killed the wizard," I said, sliding on my mail shirt before pulling the doublet over it. The weight barely registered now. It felt like putting on another shirt. I fastened my belts, checked that my amulets were properly hidden beneath the cloth, and touched the dwarven bracelet I never took off. "I rely more on these artifacts each day," I murmured as I closed the last clasp, "and with so many witch hunters in the region... I can't afford a single mistake. We've killed enough beasts already for some fanatic to assume I summoned them myself." "They'll think it anyway, whether you did or not," Hieronymus replied with a shrug. "But if what you say is true, and this invention of yours works... you'll need even more protection than before. Gold doesn't just attract envy. It draws in guilds and nobles eager to ensure their fortunes don't lose value." "Bah... that's a problem for the future, honestly," I muttered as I descended to the great hall of the castle. I went down the stone steps, passed through hallways lined with old banners—some already faded—and sat in the chair where my father used to receive guests. I ordered them to let him in. I remained in complete silence, resting one elbow on the carved wooden armrest, my hand on my chin, staring at the door as the minutes dragged by. Finally, the great wooden doors opened with a creak. He entered, escorted by my guards. He wasn't alone. At least four people accompanied him: a woman in her thirties with an air of importance; two young men—about my age, maybe slightly older—well dressed, with upright posture; and an older man, wearing a colorful silk robe and holding a staff he clearly didn't need. My eyes passed over them all. Luxurious clothes, well-fed faces, refined manners. They didn't look like people who struggled for money. Most likely the family who paid my father to marry a commoner. They clearly had no shortage of crowns. "My dear..." the old man said with a wide smile, opening his arms as if he still had some right over me, as if the blood we shared still gave him authority. "You don't have permission to speak to me," I replied curtly, without breaking eye contact. I leaned back slightly in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. The backrest creaked faintly under my weight. I wanted him to feel every second of silence like a rope tightening with each blink. Only the tapping of my fingers against the oak armrest could be heard. "Why have you come?" I finally asked, not altering the rhythm of my fingers. "My dear grandson..." the old man repeated hesitantly. "I am the Baron of Reinsfeld," I interrupted again, with the same steady tone I used to read decrees. "And this time I'll overlook your breach of etiquette out of courtesy. But if you do it again, I'll have you whipped publicly in the square like any other commoner who forgets his place." "My lord... my apologies," said the old man with an awkward bow. "I assumed—wrongly—that this meeting would have a more cheerful tone." "Well, you assumed poorly. Answer the question." "I came to offer my condolences for the death of your father... my lord," said the merchant, lowering his gaze for a moment. "That could've been done at Morr's temple, like everyone else," I replied coldly. "Kneel, leave two coins, mutter a prayer, and vanish." I then noticed the woman beside him — sharp-featured, dressed in ostentatious silks — frown and lean in to whisper something to the old man, clearly annoyed. "What did she say?" I asked calmly, directing the question to one of the guards nearby. "She said you have the same temper as your lord father, my baron," the guard answered without hesitation. "Thank you," I said with a nod, staring at the woman until she averted her gaze. "I take that as a compliment. He was a good example... or rather, my only example." The old man sighed heavily. His tone shifted. "My lord, I don't mean to waste your time. I'm here with a business proposal," said the merchant at last, the smile now gone. "Ah... now we're speaking the same language," I replied, straightening slightly. "Tell me, merchant... what offer do you bring me? I hope the sound of your coin justifies the interruption." "This is something we had already discussed with your lord father," the old man explained. "It was never finalized, partly due to the beastmen attacks in the region where we planned to invest. And later, well... the baron had some severe mood changes." "Yes. He was a man who didn't tolerate nonsense," I murmured. "Continue." "As you may know," the merchant went on, "we are textile merchants established in Schilderheim. Our family has lived off wool and linen for generations. We operate several looms and workshops that supply both Altdorf and Marienburg. We also own lands used for sheep grazing nearby." I nodded silently. My eyes never left him. "The proposal was to relocate all our infrastructure to one of the smaller villages under your jurisdiction. We would bring with us our workers, their families, animals, and tools. We'd establish a new textile center in your land, under your protection." He paused. Waiting for my reaction. "So far, all that sounds like a blessing for my coffers," I said at last. "So tell me, old man... what was the trap that made my father slam the door in your face?" "We were negotiating the grant of a generous amount of land to establish grazing fields for our sheep... and land in one of the minor villages to build the structures for the looms," the old merchant explained, now more cautiously as the atmosphere cooled. "And a tax exemption, I assume," I said without looking up. "Indeed, my lord. Only for two years. Just enough time to move everything, settle in, and recover the initial investment." "Curious..." I muttered under my breath, resting my elbow on the throne's armrest and narrowing my eyes. "For now, it still sounds like a favorable deal." Then I raised my voice: "Anything else?" The merchant adjusted in his seat. The woman next to him watched him with unease, as if she already knew what was coming wouldn't be well received. "We were also discussing the possibility of obtaining a monopoly in the lands of the late baron," the old man said more carefully, "to avoid future competition and, in essence, to prevent local producers from entering that field." I cut him off with a sharp gesture. "No. That will not happen," I said bluntly. "I'm not granting a monopoly of that size to anyone. Nothing guarantees me that you won't raise prices to the maximum once you secure exclusivity, drain the land I grant you and its people until there's not a drop of value left. No. There will be competition. Always." The old man nodded with regret, saying nothing for a moment. "And... well... I also wished you would consider taking my two grandsons, sons of my firstborn, as knights in your court," he said finally, as if trying to sneak in a minor request. "Knights?" I repeated, raising my voice, the trace of mockery barely concealed. "Ah, now I understand... now it all makes sense. The tone, the forced courtesy, the parade in silk." I leaned back slightly, letting a smile form on my face. "Do you know how many protocols must be followed to grant such a reward? How much blood, how much merit is required before a name becomes worthy of bearing sword and crest as a knight?" I leaned slightly forward, staring him down. "Nobility isn't bought, merchant. You're born into it... or you earn it through deeds so noble the title is won, not begged for. And you expect to achieve that with a handful of sheep and cloth?" I held back a laugh. "Your lord father considered it... it's just that..." the merchant began to say, but his voice trailed off as he looked away. "Just that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Seeing he didn't respond, I repeated more firmly: "I said, just that?" The woman beside him, her expression severe and dress immaculate, stepped forward and replied with contempt: "That beast wanted me to bear him more children." I stayed silent for a few seconds. Then I turned my head slightly and looked at her in complete silence. "Hmm... hello, mother." I examined her carefully. She scowled at the word, but I didn't stop. "Though you are noble by marriage... don't you ever insult my father again," I said in a serious tone. "That monster you call father? He beat me! He humiliated me! He did it without rest while I carried you in my womb, you ungrateful child." Her voice trembled with rage and resentment, as if she expected compassion. But I gave her none. I turned again toward the old merchant. "Old man... did she remarry?" "No..." he answered cautiously, but I cut him off immediately. "Then listen carefully. I'll send your grandsons as squires to one of my vassals. In five years, if they survive and fulfill their duties, they'll have full rights to become knights." The merchant's face lit up for a moment, but my words weren't done. "But there's a condition. I want your blessing — though I don't need it — to send this woman... to a monastery of the Cult of Shallya. Let her take a vow of chastity. Let her become useful to others, since she never was — and never will be — useful to me." The woman turned sharply, her eyes wide with surprise. "Father? What are you doing?! Tell him no! You promised me a marriage with a decent nobleman!" she cried, desperate. The old man didn't answer right away. He closed his eyes for a second, took a deep breath... and finally spoke with a grave voice: "Done." Without another word, I removed the glove from my right hand and snapped my fingers. Two guards stepped forward immediately and seized the woman as she began to scream and struggle. "No! You can't do this to me! I'm your mother!" "Take her to Shallya's chapel. Let the priests prepare her for the journey to Altdorf. As of today, she stops being a political problem for me," I said with a smile. As her screams faded down the castle halls, I calmly sat down and put my glove back on. "Now that we've removed distractions... let's talk numbers, merchant." ------------------------- If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know. Leave a comment; support is always appreciated. I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see. -------------------------------