Chapter 31: The Wrong Businessman

Chapter 31: Chapter 31: The Wrong Businessman

This morning, after breakfast, a royal courier arrived at House Arclight with a notice. His horse was sweating, and his face was red from hard and long riding.

Lord Arclight was in the middle of sorting through reports on commercial activities when the courier bowed low and held out a sealed letter with both hands. It was a large, heavy letter, and the courier had been holding it for a long time. The House Arclight crest was on the outside of the letter, but there was another crest on it as well.

The letter was sealed with Emberwind wax, bearing their crest. Lord Arclight opened it right away, reading the documents within. At first he seemed to be entertained by what he read, a small smile playing on his lips. But that smile was gone in a heartbeat.

He read it once. Then again, slower. Then he set it on the desk, as if it might bite him.

Lord Emberwind was dead. He had taken his own life.

For the most part the House Emberwind letter was a panicky cry for help. Most of the members of the House had been killed already and the few remaining ones were begging Lord Arclight for the best terms on the money matters.

They offered to surrender all of their warehouses, freight contracts, transport routes and merchant deals. He could take them all. They were no good to themselves now that their head was dead. And as it was, they were on the brink of financial collapse.

Lord Arclight sat back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a few moments.

"Haha..." He laughed, weakly.

It wasn’t a mean laugh. It didn’t look as though he was getting any pleasure from the death of another man. In politics you had to make tough decisions, and they couldn’t be based on feelings of that kind. It was quite clear really. The man had been pushed until he had fallen, and he had fallen at the perfect moment for who else than, House Oakwood. They had been trying to grab the commercial power of the collapsing House Emberwind for weeks and now, succeeded.

The advantage was completely Oakwood’s now.

And Lord Arclight was not about to waste that.

He folded the letter and put it down with the others. He had to have one conversation with Allan, which he had been putting off. The conversation would change the life of his daughter. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that yet.

He found Amelia in the eastern garden.

The young woman was seated beneath a flowering tree, a book on her lap that she wasn’t currently reading. Amelia’s eyes were far, far away in the garden. She hadn’t even noticed her father’s approach until he sat down across from her.

"Amelia."

She blinked up. "huh...Father?"

He sat across from her. For a moment he just watched her and smiled.

Silence was enough to close her book.

"Something happened?"

"House Emberwind has fallen harder than we thought," he said quietly. "Lord Emberwind is now dead."

Her eyes went wide. "Dead?"

"He killed himself, is what I’m trying to say."

Amelia’s fingers closed tightly around the edge of the book, trying not to smile.

Her father’s eyes were serious and he watched her face carefully before continuing. "House Emberwind’s position has collapsed. The commercial interests will be divided up between whoever manages to get their hands on them. The Oakwood family are already trying to get a large share."

A tiny smile played on Amelia’s lips.

"I see. Oh how sad for house emberwind."

Lord Arclight saw that smile.

It answered every quiet question he had carried for weeks.

"Dear, You care about Allan, right?"

Heat rushed straight into her cheeks.

"Father..."

"Give me a straight answer, No need for any barriers between us."

She looked away to study the flowers. "...I do."

"Do you love him?"

This time Amelia didn’t try to hide her answer. She looked up at him, her eyes locking onto his.

"Yes."

The word was soft and sure, as if it had been waiting for expression all along. Lord Arclight almost smiled.

There was no hesitation there, No careful calculation. No thought about the money growing in Oakwood or Allan’s odd and escentric behavior.

It was decided, His daughter had already chosen. He folded his hands over his knee.

"Then would you like to marry him?"

Amelia froze, right then and there. For three whole heartbeats she just stared at him as her book fell from her lap onto the grass below.

"Really?"

The smile on her face was like nothing Lord Arclight had ever seen before. It was so full of pure joy that for a moment he wondered if he had ever seen his daughter so happy.

"Yes."

"That quickly?"

"I’ve already decided Amelia. He is talented, genius even, and he just showed, how ruthless he can be..."

She sprang up from her seat so quickly that the chair nearly toppled behind her.

"Father, I—"

"I haven’t finished."

She stopped mid-bounce. Lord Arclight reached into his coat pocket for another document.

"So because of that, I will be cancelling the previous engagement with House Sigilite."

Amelia stared at the paper like it might disappear for good this time.

"You can do that father?"

"I am your father. lord of arclight state. A viscount for the empire. Of course I can."

There was enough quiet pride in those words to remind her which house she belonged to.

"Firstly, the circumstances under which the previous engagement with House Sigilite was agreed to are no longer relevant. House Sigilite has weakened greatly in the intervening period."

He paused, softer now.

"Nor shall I force the marriage upon you, my daughter. Not when you have someone you love."

Amelia’s eyes went warm and shiny.

"Thank you, Father."

He attempted to look stern but it wasn’t working very well.

Amelia’s smile only grew.

***

The next morning an invitation to House Oakwood arrived by hand.

Allan read it twice.

Of course, Lord Arclight was eventually going to contact Allan about the Amelia situation and other cross-house matters, but the wording of the letter was formal enough to indicate that this was to be no ordinary business meeting.

It was a formal summons to discuss... marriage. He placed the letter on his desk and stared at it.

"Well," he muttered, "that escalated quick."

Seris glanced over. "What happened allan?"

"Apparently...I’m getting married."

She stared at him. Lira, who was pouring tea, almost dropped it.

Allan looked between their frozen faces.

"That..that was a joke."

Neither of them laughed.

"...Mostly. Arrange a carriage for me, I will need to handle this, promptly."

The carriage arrived before noon.

By the time Allan arrived at House Arclight, he had thought of all the possible ways this could be disastrous. In nobility, marriage meant more than just marriage. It was about the transfer of inheritance, about forming an alliance, about fulfilling a number of different political obligations, about preserving a reputation, about harnessing commercial opportunities, and tolerating the presence of a host of relatives who would never even consider the notion of privacy.

He walked into Lord Arclight’s study, and Lord Arclight pointed to a chair.

"Sit."

Allan sat.

The talk started calmer than he expected.

Lord Arclight was a straightforward man, so he spoke openly of the reason he wanted Allan to marry Amelia: the marriage would be good for both of their houses. House Arclight was still one of the biggest and strongest houses in the region, while House Oakwood was a rising force, with Allan at its head.

Allan listened carefully.

"And Amelia agrees?" he asked.

Lord Arclight gave him a dry look.

"If she didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here."

That made Allan smile.

Now on to the details of the formal announcement and the terms and conditions for both houses, and how things were to be going forward.

Allan felt a shift in his circumstances.

It had been a long time since nobles had even acknowledged the existence of House Oakwood, a name previously attached to a burnt-out estate and little else. Today, however, one of the most powerful houses in the region was talking marriage with him.

The door suddenly flew open.

"Lord arclight!" A voice screamed.

Neither of them had invited anyone else.In strode a tall, angry-looking man of about thirty-five with two attendants at his back.

Lord Arclight’s expression went hard.

"Viscount Sigilite."

The newcomer ignored the greeting completely, as he glared at Allan, and then back to the lord.

"So it is true."

Allan turned toward him.

Sigilite’s eyes briefly strayed to the other noble sitting at the table before snapping back to Allan.

"You intend to give my precious Amelia to him, to this poor bastard?"

Lord Arclight’s voice dropped several degrees colder.

"Choose your next words carefully..."

Sigilite didn’t.

"To this broken, pitiful, baron?"

Allan’s face stayed calm as Sigilite stepped closer, voice rising.

"Buy warehouses. Sell supplies to adventurers."

Allan stayed seated.

"...A man with no real pedigree, no military accomplishments, no ancient alliances, and no understanding of how noble society actually works?"

Still nothing from Allan as Sigilite’s face went red.

"...breaking an alliance with my family for someone like—"

His hand moved.

The sound of a slap echoed through the study like a whip crack.

Allan’s head turned slightly from the force his cheek faced.

Silence swallowed the room.

For a single moment everything seemed to shrink down to nothing.

Allan slowly turned his face back. He could feel the heat rising on his cheek. And underneath it, something much colder was waking up.

His fingers tightened on the armrest.

It would have been easy to stand up right then.

His stats were more than enough to put this man through the wall before the attendants could even blink.

But Allan didn’t move. Why?

Because he knew that killing or humiliating a Viscount would create far bigger problems than any moment of satisfaction in a brawl inside another noble’s house.

Lord Arclight stood.

"How dare you harm my guest!? Leave! Now!!"

Sigilite blinked. "My lord—"

"I said leave!"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

"You entered my home without an invitation, insulted my guest, ignored my words, and physically struck my future son-in-law. In my home. In front of witnesses."

Lord Arclight’s eyes narrowed to slits.

"Because you are a Viscount and still come from a noble family, I want you out of my house before I forget that."

Sigilite’s face went pale.

"But the engagement—"

"Is cancelled. For good!"

Those two words hit harder than the slap as Lord Arclight pointed at the door.

"Get! out!"

The Viscount trembled with sheer mortification for what seemed an eternity, then finally turned and slunk out of the room.

The door shut behind him.

Lord Arclight let out a long breath and looked at Allan.

"haaa,,,I apologize."

Allan touched his cheek and smiled.

"It’s fine."

"It is not fine."

"No," Allan admitted. "But it is handled. iw couldn’t ask more."

Lord Arclight studied him carefully. There was something somewhat unsettling about the youth’s composure.

Most nobles would have demanded compensation for the insult. Some would have voiced their anger openly, while others might have been more immediate about it, perhaps even challenging the Viscount to a duel.

Allan had done none of those things.

He had simply taken the insult... and smiled.

"Thank you for your restraint," Lord Arclight said.

Allan nodded.

But inside his head, he was already returning to House Sigilite.

"Okay, I will take my leave, my lord. We shall discuss this matter at another time."

***

It didn’t take long, by sunset, he had learned more about House Sigilite than he was sure the Viscount wanted anyone to know.

First, Allan ordered all of the commercial records for House Sigilite to be collected by his accountants. He then had merchants and traders who dealt with Sigilite questioned, along with a handful of servants tasked with digging through old contracts, shipping orders, debt notes, political letters, and even reports of noble illnesses.

"This is strange..."

The more he delved into the affairs of the family, the stranger they became. House Sigilite had not suddenly become weak.

It had been weakening for months.

Their previous head of house had fallen seriously ill some months prior. Subsequently, several of the noble family’s close relatives had contracted similar ailments and were currently bedridden.

In commerce, their partners were slowly retreating from the failing house, whilst their once-impressive noble influence was rapidly waning. Several long-planned marriages had been hastily arranged in order for Sigilite to retain a grip on his few remaining alliances.

This engagement was not born out of love. It had been about survival.

Allan sat in his study alone, another report before him.

He read it.

Then another.

And another.

House Sigilite wasn’t unique.

That was the real problem.

He started comparing the reports side by side.

One noble house’s patriarch had fallen ill under mysterious circumstances.

A noble’s daughter had slipped into a coma.

A marquis had suffered a sudden mental collapse.

A count had become bedridden after complaining of strange and disturbing dreams.

Two very influential nobles had withdrawn from public life.

Three others were showing the exact same symptoms.

Allan’s expression slowly shifted. He pushed the papers into one neat pile.

This wasn’t some random disease.

The pattern was too wide.

Too neat.

Too deliberate.

His fingers stopped on one particular report.The symptoms were almost identical:

Sudden weakness.

Nightmares.

Loss of consciousness.

Magical exhaustion.

Slow, steady decline.

And in several cases, no doctor could explain it. Same as Amelia’s brother.

Allan leaned back as his eyes narrowed. He just put two and two together, the outcome being.

The Cult of the Forsaken.

They were not as a serious political force. Not as a real threat anywhere in the history of Yggdrasil.

His faint smile disappeared and suddenly the slap from earlier felt almost unimportant.

If the Cult of the Forsaken were responsible for the sickness spreading through the nobility, then someone was deliberately weakening the strongest houses in the region.

And if that was true, Allan had just walked straight into their path and even freed someone they were keeping chained.

He looked toward the window. Something was moving. Allan’s smile returned, small, sharp, and full of quiet challenge.

"Fine."

His eyes dropped back to the reports.

"If you want to play politics..."

He gathered the papers into one neat stack.

"...you picked the wrong businessman."