“I have to admit, Willem… I’m impressed.” Viviene looked upon the account sheet he’d placed before her. “Over three thousand gold. You brought it all together. Provided not too many of them die, and provided you don’t err royally, that number will keep getting bigger. Meaning… your pay will keep going up. People tend to want to die less than they want to live, I’ve found. You should do well.”

  Willem sat on a chair across from her. “You’ve killed people before, right?”

  Viviene focused her one good eye on him. “…you know I have.”

  “I’ve never seen it.” He shrugged.

  “Are you sure?” Viviene tilted her head back, thinking. “I could’ve sworn…”

  “Can you also kill people… metaphorically?” He asked, leaning in. “It might be more unpleasant, because they’re still alive afterward, and can thus complain about your murder.”

  “I don’t follow, but poetry isn’t my strong suit.” Viviene placed her arms on the table. “I only ever won second in poetry contests I entered.”

  “Can you look a man in the eye…” Willem’s face grew grave, and even his bright blue eyes dimmed. “…and tell him that he’s no longer going to be working here?”

  She laughed. “You want to get rid of Dirk? Why? He can’t be compared to the eunuchs in Valdérie, but he’s a good servant.”

  “No, not Dirk. But I do need a ruthless person who doesn’t consider anyone else’s feelings, and is generally apathetic.” Willem pointed. “You came to mind.”

  Viviene shifted in her chair uneasily. “What are you saying, son?”

  “It’s not a slight against you—I don’t consider people’s feelings too much either, but my time is already stretched thin enough as is.” Willem tapped the paper he’d given her. “I’ve got funding. It’s time to start investing. I might be able to buy a small portion of an excellent business with what I have, but that’s not the fastest way to compound wealth.”

  “And what is?” Viviene prompted.

  “You buy for one coin, sell for two.” Willem held his hands up, demonstrating.

  Viviene nodded, then said dryly, “Incredible. My son is a genius. I never knew.”

  “There’s money in success—but big successes need big purses, and I don’t have that yet.” Willem held both ends of the table. “I want to buy out failing businesses for less than they’re worth, and then either turn them around or sell the scraps. And I want you to be my liquidator.”

  “Liquidator?” Viviene repeated.

  “That’s right.” Willem cradled his hands together. “You’re going to get in there with a knife, carving away the fat. They’ll either bleed out and die, or they’ll become lean and mean fighting machines. As long as there’s upside, I don’t care either way.”

  Viviene cracked her knuckles. “I’ve carved fat from animals and men, but seldom that of businesses.”

  “You turned around the van Brugh estate,” Willem pointed out. “What is that, if not a big, failing business?”

  She couldn’t find fault in his logic and nodded. “True, but—”

  “You’re perfect for the role,” Willem interrupted. “You have a generally realistic, pessimistic view of the world. You’re not afraid to call a spade a spade, even if you hurt the spade’s feelings. You have a strong stomach. You’re intimidating, and you can defend yourself. Need I go on? I want you to work with me, Viviene.”

  Viviene paused, taking a deep breath as a strange feeling surged within. Her sons very rarely asked anything of her—generally it was because she only ever said ‘no,’ but that was beside the point. This feeling of motherly affection deeply unsettled her, so she did as she often did: make a barbed comment to push it away.

  “You want to hide behind mommy’s skirt as she does everything unpleasant for you?” She said with a condescending pout. “Aww… little Willem’s not so grown up after all.”

  Willem smiled. “You see? Instinctive sadism—you can’t teach that. It’s pure, raw, talent. And I love talent.”

  Despite what she’d said, the feeling wasn’t going away—especially not when Willem used the word ‘love.’ Spurred by that, her next words flowed without thought.

  “I suppose I can do it,” Viviene agreed, regretting the words seconds after she’d said them.

  “Wonderful.” Willem reached into his shirt and pulled out a piece of paper with a cocky grin on his face. “I wrote you up a contract in advance.”

  “What?” Viviene jolted her head back. “This… this is a little fast, don’t you think?” Her eye widened further as she saw her name already written. “Why do you even have this ready?”

  “You’re the person I want for this role. No one else fits better. Why wouldn’t I be prepared?” Willem retrieved a vial of ink and a quill pen, setting them before her.

  “I need some time,” Viviene said, holding her hand out.

  “Go on. Read it. It’s short.” He gestured. “You were bragging about how fast you read last week. This short document shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

  “My time is worth money,” Viviene continued. “My salary—”

  “There’s no salary. You earn a percentage on what you sell, alongside a share of the business if we end up turning it around. Your pay is as good as your work. You can walk away very rich, or you can do nothing at all.” Willem shrugged. “I know which I would choose. The smart choice.”

  Viviene did consider spilling the ink vial over the page as she studied it, but it was too far out of reach to do it naturally. Looking at Willem’s bright eyes and that hopeful smile… she was reminded when her children were all young and innocent, when things were still good, when men and women throughout the kingdom knew her as the Belle of the Blade…

  “I really think you’ll enjoy this,” Willem pushed. “Trust me. We’ll do great things together.”

  Viviene, her hand all but trembling, dipped the quill pen and ink and elegantly wrote her name at the bottom.

  “Excellent,” said Willem, his voice as smooth as honey in his satisfaction. He retrieved the paper, studying it. “We’re going to be very rich, you and I. You’ll be able to buy a vineyard of your own soon enough. I’m going to go put this somewhere safe, and afterward, we’ll discuss the next steps.”

  Willem left the room, a faint bounce on his step. Left alone in silence, uneasiness seeped into Viviene’s heart. Doing business with Willem… her son, her flesh and blood. She never liked family. With families, it always hurt the worst. Every word, every bruise, every cut. Why would it be different here?

  Adjusting the white mask covering her right eye, it reminded her of her conviction. She didn’t want to get too close.

  ***

  Long before he even had the money on-hand, Willem had been eyeing a particular business. It was partially because he was a customer, and partially because he heard everyone and their mother disparaging it—including his alleged mother Viviene. He read the sign with some satisfaction.

  Robert’s Chandlery

  “What tremendous insights are you going to bring into the world of candle making, son?” Viviene stared at the sign with him, her arms crossed.

  “You don’t need tremendous insights,” he countered, crossing his arms. “Just good business sense.”

  “Good business sense? No one’s buying candles or oil lamps anymore, except perhaps cheap fools like you.” Viviene turned her head to look at him. “Magic lamps are more efficient, more practical, and longer-lasting than either tallow or beeswax. There’s no flame, no smell, and no maintenance. Even compared to lamps, there’s no cost of oil. You don’t need to remelt a magic lamp back into shape to use it again, unlike candles.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “I know. The candle’s getting snuffed out. Woe to the chandlers, short be their remaining life.” Willem nodded, then walked toward the entrance. “The current owner’s already tried to sell thrice. Every other deal fell through.”

  “Hold on.” Viviene caught his arm with her tremendous agility. “Are you seriously going to use the money you earned for this?”

  Willem pulled his arm free when she released her grip. “The society might freak if I go all-in before they have some trust in my abilities.”

  “I’m glad you see that.” Viviene nodded.

  “But I’ll just turn it around before the first quarterly report,” Willem continued, shrugging. “No harm, no foul.”

  “Hah…” Viviene sighed. “Is buying this shabby business really sensible?”

  “Business is ruled by fear and greed,” Willem looked right into her single good eye. “When things are bad, people become convinced that it’s only going to get worse, and the world will split open and eat everyone alive. When things are good, they can’t stop themselves from throwing copious amounts of coin into the hottest thing, and convince themselves and others that it’s going to keep getting better forever.” He opened the door to the shop, walking inside. “The truth is usually somewhere in the middle. And the middle is where I make my money.”

  ***

  Robert tried not to show how nervous he was as a rapier-wearing noble with a beautiful yet frightening white mask wandered his store, a white handkerchief to her nose to block out the smell. An equally intimidating blonde warrior read through documents silently. The occasional shuffling of the paper and the quiet steps of the woman unsettled him deeply.

  He didn’t know who these people were, but after failing to sell the business three times, he had to entertain them.

  “Lot of employees,” the man who introduced himself as Willem eventually said.

  “Fewer every year,” Robert noted sadly.

  “…severance…pain…” Willem mumbled, lost in thought.

  Robert let him think, growing more and more nervous as he examined his account books.

  Willem looked up. “12,500 silver. 1000 gold, more or less.”

  “Sir?” Robert said, confused. “Are… you referring to a number on the paper?”

  “No.” Willem put his papers on the desk. “That’s my offer to purchase Robert’s Chandlery.”

  “Sir…” Robert swallowed. “That wouldn’t even cover the debts.”

  “Ah.” He leaned forth, tapping the paper. “I’d assume the business’ liabilities alongside the assets. I thought that was obvious.”

  Upon hearing that, the figure sounded far more sensible… but even still, the amount offered was once what his father had made in a single month. It twisted his guts hearing it.

  “You’re throwing away coin, Willem,” commented the woman he’d brought with him.

  “You think?” He asked rhetorically, keeping those sharp blue eyes on Robert.

  “12,500 is… too low,” Robert insisted, though he felt the pressure. “My grandfather—”

  “Isn’t here,” Willem interrupted. “You’re running the show, now. Every wealthy household, and even a few poor ones, are implementing magic lamps. It might seem low, but every month you wait, it’ll get lower, lower. Every offer will be worse than the last. Before long, this debt’ll need to be repaid.” He tapped the figure on the paper. “What’ll you lose then? Your business? Your freedom?”

  “It’s still too low, sir,” Robert held his ground. “I’m sorry. I have my family to think about.”

  “Hmm.” Willem narrowed his eyes. “I could go to seventeen thousand if you throw in your apiaries outside of town.”

  Robert closed his eyes, fighting emotional turmoil. “All of them?”

  “Why do you need them? You won’t have any use for beeswax after this.” Willem shrugged.

  The woman scoffed. “You used to cry whenever bees flew near you, Willem. Why do you want hives, now? Cheap mead?”

  Robert clenched his hands together tightly behind his desk. “Those hives could keep my family afloat. I can’t just get rid of them.”

  “Your family, huh.” Willem crossed his arms. “I can compromise, then. Fifteen thousand silver, and the apiaries. In return, I keep you on as a salaried manager for a year. Give you time enough to pivot to something else, maybe.”

  The dark-haired woman looked at Willem strangely after the offer.

  “A manager?” Robert repeated.

  “Sure.” Willem nodded. “Steady pay—more than enough to feed your family.” He rose to his feet, staring down at Robert sternly. He shrunk from the man’s intensity. “But I’m not looking for a partner. When I tell you to do something to the business, you do it, no matter how much it pains you.”

  “Let’s just go somewhere else, Willem,” the woman said, walking to stand beside him. “Even farmland would be a better choice than this.”

  “Maybe.” Willem nodded, looking out the window.

  Robert felt the pressure, the lack of conviction, weighing as heavily on that woman’s word as it did his own mind. He blurted out quickly, “If we can work out the salary, I’ll do it.”

  “Fair enough.” Willem sat. “Let’s get into it.”

  “By the goddess…” the woman sighed. “Whatever. It’s your money. Some of it, anyway.”

  Robert felt a strange weight lifted off his chest, and knew that he’d made the right decision in that moment. No more debt, no more stress… and one year of time, to pivot to something better. If he wanted to, that is. Perhaps things could truly turn around.

  No. Not a chance, Robert thought.

  ***

  Willem pushed open the door to leave, looking around the docks. Only a few hours had passed as they worked things out. In a little while, he’d have a meeting with a new prospective member of the society. More than that, Baron Tielman had asked to have a conversation with him. Willem was hesitant because he’d already gotten what he wanted from the man, but there was no harm in keeping the bridge unburnt.

  “So, you really did it,” Viviene noted as she joined him. “Rendered animal fat and beekeeping. Is that your bright future?”

  Willem walked up to the dock’s wooden railing, leaning his arms on it as he looked out. “It’s yours, for a few weeks or so.”

  “Pfft.” Viviene scoffed. “Why did I ever agree to—"

  “To start, you’ll melt the excess inventory of tallow candles down. Sell those to the soap makers, quietly and slowly,” Willem began. “You’ll have to talk to the livestock merchant, German, for that. He deals in tallow. He’s a member of the society. I imagine you’ll get about twenty thousand silver for the tallow alone—twenty-five if you’re good.”

  He turned around, leaning against the railing. “We take the candle molds, sell them to the merchants in the society that go to less-developed cities that still use candles instead of magic lamps. Candles are going out of style here, but elsewhere, people still have need of them. Far-away chandlers would have a deep appreciation for molds from a higher-developed area of the world. On top of that, you’ll sell the apiaries to local breweries. I heard Robert tried to pivot to making mead, but he didn’t have the know-how.” Willem smiled. “That was the best part of the deal. I got those hives at a deep discount.”

  Viviene inhaled. “So… we are gutting the place. Do you really think we’ll profit?”

  “We? You spent all your time complaining,” Willem said as he studied his nails.

  “Only so I could pressure him into selling,” Viviene argued, coming to lean on the rail alongside him. “If we’re gutting it, why pay the man for a year? Do you plan to cheat him?”

  “Scented beeswax candles are still driving revenue,” Willem continued. “Robert III back there just sucks at marketing and pricing. We’re discontinuing all other products, repurposing or selling off the inventory we have, and focusing on high-quality, hand-made scented candles from senior employees.” He looked her in the eye. “I think we have room to markup scented candles quite a bit, make them premium products. It won’t be a huge business, but it’ll be profitable, and I can get rid of a lot of deadweight employees. Even after severance costs, we could break even. More than break even, depending on you.”

  “Severance?” Viviene repeated, unfamiliar with the term.

  “Severance packages for the people we get rid of. Every year served, pay them a week’s salary.”

  Viviene cocked her head back. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you should,” Willem answered like it was obvious. “It’s the bare minimum.”

  Viviene stared at him like he was an alien. “Not if we’re trying to make coin.”

  “That’s short-term thinking.” Willem shook his head. “We’ll lose out on deals if word spreads we’re ruthless, stingy. A silver made today is a gold lost tomorrow.”

  Viviene walked to stand right in front of Willem. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing such a foolish thing. No one would care.”

  “I do,” Willem answered unflinchingly. “I’m cheap, sure. But there’s certain things you don’t cheap out on. This is one. You can’t buy integrity, reputation.”

  Viviene scrunched her face in annoyance, and her mask slid down slightly. She fixed it quickly, then said with exasperation, “How are you sure you’ll make money?”

  “That’s your job,” he pointed out. “Miss liquidator. I’ve got the Society of Assured Prosperity. I gave you a plan of action. You have a foot in the door for the vast majority of merchants in the city—a logistics network spanning the continent. Take advantage. I’m going to go talk to your ex-husband.”

  Willem walked away, leaving Viviene to decide what to do.

  As she stared at the docks, a notion came to her head. Willem had been very selective about his clientele—in particular, he only really accepted people into the Society of Assured Prosperity if they were related to shipping or trading, either via caravan or ship. Had he done that for the sole purpose of gaining preferential treatment from them?

  Viviene exhaled in some revelation. Whether by accident or design, Willem had established himself in this city of Gent, and gained access to a tremendously large shipping network. Even if someone were to try, they would have some difficulty uprooting him—he could just make those merchants refuse to accept shipments.

  Was it method, or was it madness? Viviene had to admit… she was curious. And she saw a path to make a little gold, earning a commission off gutting Robert’s Chandlery. It was the coin she wanted, nothing more.

  Nothing more than that, surely.