Nathan – POV

  Krizek informed me that the negotiations had been concluded successfully. I didn’t press him for details; I already had a sense of what had transpired. What caught me off guard, however, was his decision to expand the pocket dimension to three times its current size. The treasures they had acquired were apparently vast; more than the dimension could presently contain. Gold, jewels, rare spices, exotic textiles… the vault was brimming with wealth, and it was clear this was no ordinary transaction.

  He explained that the ritual required to expand the dimension would drain his fel reserves completely, rendering him dormant and unable to manifest in this world for several days. Human sacrifices would be involved, but I chose to ignore that detail. It wasn’t that I condoned it; it was simply the cost of doing business with demons. I asked only if he would be physically harmed. Krizek responded with a mental shrug, assuring me that he would not be injured, merely incapacitated. Once he recovered, he would return to my service.

  I thanked him for his efforts. Despite their infernal origins, I treated my minions with respect. They were part of my unit, and any seasoned commander knows you never discard a good man...or demon, without cause.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Stanley and Jake, walking briskly toward us.

  “Lord Jakob,” Stanley said, bowing slightly, “we’ve successfully delivered the goods. The Hellblazers are still at the merchant quarter, finalizing the negotiations.”

  Father turned to me, his eyes searching mine. I nodded in confirmation.

  “Excellent,” he said. “Now go join the others. It’s time for your armor and tabard fittings.”

  They bowed again and departed, leaving Father and me alone.

  “Son,” he asked, “are your minions handling things well?”

  “Don’t worry, Father. They’re more than capable. Tonight, we’ll inspect the wealth they’ve acquired.”

  “Wealth? You mean the proceeds from the sale?”

  “And much more,” I replied.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Should I ask where this wealth came from?”

  “It would be better if you didn’t,” I said.

  He studied me for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Very well.”

  I knew I would have to tell them eventually. The truth about what my minions had done...and where the wealth had come from...could not remain hidden forever. But I feared their reaction. Would they recoil in horror? Would they see me as a monster? Would they fear the demons I commanded?

  Still, it was better to rip the bandage off now than let it fester. Tonight, I will tell them everything.

  Later that afternoon, I received a mental message from my minions. They were returning, and they were bringing a guest. A human merchant named Lyle requested an audience with my father to discuss a business opportunity.

  I approached Father and informed him of the visitor.

  “What could he possibly want?” Jakob asked.

  “Perhaps he’s interested in purchasing more goods,” Mother, Lady Dianne, suggested.

  As they speculated, my mind was already racing ahead. I thought of the mercantilist strategies of the British Empire—how trade had built its wealth and extended its influence across continents. A noble house with its own merchant arm could wield similar power. If Lyle was willing, he could become our family’s merchant...our agent in the world of commerce.

  “Father,” I said, “I may have a proposition for the merchant. One that could benefit our house tremendously.”

  “Explain,” Mother said.

  I laid out my plan. Lyle would act as our exclusive merchant, representing our interests in trade. We would back him financially, and in return, he would share a percentage of the profits and swear loyalty to our house.

  Jakob frowned. “I’m not sure he’ll agree to that.”

  “Will you allow me to conduct the negotiations?” I asked.

  They exchanged glances. After a moment, Mother nodded.

  “Very well,” Jakob said. “You may proceed.”

  Before sunset, my minions returned to camp. Anda and the others greeted them warmly. I focused on the man walking beside them...Lyle, presumably. He was dressed plainly, in contrast to the flamboyant attire favored by most merchants. His long brown hair was tied back, and his posture was hesitant. He looked nervous, perhaps intimidated by the prospect of meeting a noble house.

  “My Lord Jakob, Lady Dianne,” Leshner said, bowing deeply, “allow me to introduce Master Lyle, proprietor of the merchant store Lyle and Sons.”

  “Master Lyle,” Father said, extending a hand, “good to meet you.”

  “It is an honor, Lord Jakob, Lady Dianne,” Lyle replied, his voice trembling slightly.

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  “Come, sit with us,” Jakob said, gesturing to the modest seating arrangement. “Forgive us for our lack of furniture. We’re traveling and haven’t yet acquired the proper trappings.”

  “It’s no matter, my lord,” Lyle said, settling into a wooden chair.

  Mother signaled the servants, who quickly brought hot tea and biscuits. The cups were wooden, not porcelain, but Lyle didn’t seem to mind. He accepted the refreshment with gratitude.

  “What can we do for you?” Father asked.

  “I wanted to thank you,” Lyle said. “Your sale of mead was a great boon to my family.”

  “It was no trouble,” Jakob replied. “We were looking to dispose of it.”

  “Allow me to explain,” Lyle said. “Our shop was on the verge of insolvency. That purchase gave us a lifeline. We can now survive for a few more years.”

  “Your shop?” Jakob asked.

  “Yes, my lord. I inherited it from my father, who was once part of the local merchant guild. He left due to their questionable practices, which angered the guild. They’ve tried to ruin us ever since, outselling us, undercutting us, buying out our suppliers. My father died from the stress, and I’ve been struggling to keep the business afloat. Your mead, high quality and affordably priced, saved us.”

  It was a classic David versus Goliath tale. And in most cases, Goliath wins. I understood the implications. Lyle’s father had defied the guild, and they had retaliated. The question now was whether Lyle shared his father’s convictions.

  “In that case,” Father said, “we’re glad to have helped.”

  Lyle hesitated, clearly wrestling with something. Father noticed.

  “Is there something you wish to say, Master Lyle?” he asked.

  “Forgive me, my lord,” Lyle said, “but would you consider making us your exclusive mead seller?”

  “I’m afraid the mead was a one-time thing,” Jakob replied. “We can’t supply you more.”

  Lyle looked crestfallen, but Father continued. “However, my son has a proposal that may interest you. Would you care to hear it?”

  “I would, my lord,” Lyle said eagerly.

  “Then allow me to introduce my youngest son, Nathan.”

  Lyle turned to me, and I saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. I was only seven years old. What could a child possibly know about business?

  I smiled, ready to surprise him.

  “Master Lyle,” I began, my voice calm but resolute, “I understand your situation. You’re fighting a losing battle against a powerful merchant guild. But what if you had the backing of a noble house? What if you had access to resources, protection, and influence beyond anything the guild could offer?”

  He blinked, visibly taken aback. The idea was clearly foreign to him, perhaps even absurd. A merchant, struggling to survive, suddenly offered a lifeline by a noble house? It was a lot to process.

  “I propose a partnership,” I continued, leaning forward slightly. “You will act as our merchant, representing House Mayweather-Abensberg in all trade matters. We will fund your operations, and in return, you will share a percentage of the profits and swear loyalty to our house.”

  Lyle stared at me, stunned. “You… you would do that? For me?”

  “Yes,” I said. “But there are nuances you must understand. Our house is newly established. We hold no lands, no titles, at least not yet. And more importantly, we are not native to these lands. We are on a journey back to my parents’ homeland, a place they were forced to abandon. We intend to reclaim what was lost.”

  He hesitated, then asked, “And where is your homeland, Lord Nathan?”

  “Shaxaian,” I replied.

  His eyes widened. “Forgive me, my lord, but those lands are still in chaos. The wars, the factions, it’s a dangerous place.”

  “We’re well aware,” I said. “But make no mistake, we will carve out a home in the midst of that chaos. It will be difficult. It will involve bloodshed and hardship. But if we succeed, and if you stand with us, just imagine the possibilities.”

  “You don’t expect me to fight alongside you, do you?” he asked, half-joking, half-concerned.

  “Of course not,” I said with a chuckle. “You won’t be on the battlefield of swords and men. But if you swear loyalty and fealty to our house, we will back you financially. Your battlefield will be done with coins, goods, and ledgers. You will trade in our name and be treated as one of our own. We are building a force, perhaps even an army, and you will also serve as our quartermaster and resident merchant at the same time. You’ll have the freedom to buy and sell as you please, with our full support. We’ll cover your capital and take fifty percent of the profits.”

  “Fifty percent, less the capital?” he repeated, astonished. “That’s more than generous, my lord. Not even the guild offers terms like that. But it would mean uprooting everything, moving to Shaxaian.”

  “Yes,” I said. “And don’t forget the fighting, the instability, the danger. I won’t sugarcoat it. You must know what you’re signing up for.”

  He fell silent, clearly weighing the offer. The risks were real, but so were the rewards.

  “By the way, Master Lyle,” I asked, “what practices made your father leave the guild?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “They’re vile. It was bad enough that they mistreated their slave stock, but then they discovered they could undercut the slavers by becoming slavers themselves. My father wasn’t opposed to slavery in principle; he believed it was acceptable for criminals and prisoners of war, but capturing and enslaving common folk? That was too much. We have slaves too, but we treat them as part of our household, not as disposable property.”

  A good man, I thought. Not perfect, but principled in his own way. I was still uneasy about his acceptance of slavery for criminals, but this was a medieval world. There were no correctional facilities, no rehabilitation programs. Justice was harsh and final.

  “This is not a decision to be made lightly,” I said. “Take your time. We’ll be here for several more days. By then, we’ll expect a yes or a no. But understand...if you swear fealty to our house, to my father and mother, it is for life.”

  “I understand, my lord,” he said. “I’ll speak with my family. Would this offer extend to my employees and their families?”

  “If they wish to join, yes,” I said. “But don’t force anyone. Loyalty must be given freely.”

  “Understood, Lord Nathan. Lord Jakob, Lady Dianne,” he said, bowing low. “I bid you good night.”

  And with that, he turned and left.

  I watched him go, unsure of what his answer would be. The offer was generous, but the risks were daunting. It is in fate’s hands now.

  “Nathan,” Serena said, raising an eyebrow, “did you really have to scare him with talk of war and chaos? I thought you were trying to recruit him, not drive him away.”

  I chuckled. “He has to know the truth. I won’t lure people in with false promises. If he’s brave and loyal, he’ll say yes.”

  “Your brother is right, Serena,” Father said. “It would be unfair to hide the reality of our mission. We need people who are committed, not just hopeful.”

  We all returned to our tasks, but my mind lingered on Lyle. Did I manage to convince him? Have I planted a seed of loyalty and ambition? Only time would tell. But if he joined us, he would be the first merchant in a legacy that could span empires.

  And that, I thought, was worth the risk.