The morning after the auditors' visit was brisk and cool, the sort of morning that made a man feel alive, important, destined. I stood atop the balcony once more, arms folded, surveying the ever-growing estate that lay beyond the gardens.
My mind, however, wasn't on the weather.
1250 points had bought me growth. Tangible growth. But what came next required vision.
『Current Points: 0』
That would not do.
Eloise stirred beside me, her hair loose and wild in the breeze. She was quiet, as she often was in the mornings, a thoughtful presence that now felt strangely comfortable. She didn't speak of what passed between us. But there was a new softness in her gaze, a quiet acceptance, maybe even a curiosity.
She didn't need to know about the system. No one did. As far as she was concerned, I was simply the Baronet heir who had begun to take his duties seriously—and that was exactly what I wanted them to believe.
Benwick arrived with his usual stack of ledgers and parchment. "My Lord, the merchants await your presence in the new exchange hall."
"Let them wait."
Benwick blinked. I offered him a smile. "Just for a few minutes. I want them to feel the weight of anticipation."
The newly constructed exchange hall, built from repurposed timber and accented with iron from Hans' forge, stood near the heart of the estate. It wasn't extravagant, but it exuded a sturdy presence. Inside, three long tables formed a triangle, and seated around them were the merchants who now answered to me.
Marlowe stood as I entered. "My Lord Cedric."
"Gentlemen," I began, my voice low and commanding. "Let's speak of profit."
A round of polite laughter followed. I took my seat at the head of the table.
Marlowe raised an eyebrow as he laid out a hand-drawn parchment over the estate's newly varnished table. "We've got silk from the southern coast, spices from the Varnic caravans, and rumor of enchanted trinkets being traded in the Free Cities. If we position ourselves right, we can intercept half the traffic before it even touches the larger fiefdoms."
I leaned in, tapping the parchment where three lines converged. "These routes intersect just west of our estate. That junction... we need it. A toll outpost there could bring in hundreds monthly."
Gareth, the younger and more skeptical merchant of the group, crossed his arms. "And who's going to respect a toll from a baronet with barely two dozen guards? The caravans will laugh and ride past."
Marlowe smirked. "That's where you're wrong, Gareth. Lord Cedric's estate is already building a reputation. News is spreading. We've seen travelers double since last week. It's only a matter of time before word reaches the right ears."
I nodded. "Then we'll need to ensure those ears hear only what we want them to. We'll fund a small courier network—carefully worded letters sent to neighboring towns, praising the estate's safety, generosity to merchants, and growing infrastructure. Let the image precede the blade."
"Pardon me, Lord," piped up Hollen, a merchant in his late forties who had once worked for a viscount. "Wouldn't this attention also attract… the wrong kind of notice? Bandits, jealous nobles, crown officials?"
"Yes," I said plainly. "Which is why we reinforce the estate before the campaign begins. Victoria's training has accelerated, and I've begun increasing patrol coverage. We'll expand again next month."
"But can we hold them off if something worse comes?" Gareth's voice was low.
Marlowe shot him a glance. "We can, if we do this right. We're not talking about military dominance yet—we're talking commerce. Business, Gareth. And for that, we need presence, trust, and consistency."
Gareth scratched his chin, clearly not convinced, but kept silent.
I decided to shift gears. "Tell me more about the wares. What margins can we expect on the southern silks?"
"Silk's a high-risk, high-reward venture," Marlowe replied, adjusting his collar. "We can buy for twenty silver a bolt and sell to the nobility in the north for eighty, if not more. The key is avoiding tariffs. That means using unofficial roads, and those are dangerous."
I gestured to the map again. "Then we make them official. We develop one of those roads with proper signage, resting stops, and basic waystations. Sell it as the Cedric Route. If merchants feel safe, they'll pay a tax for protection and reliability."
The men looked at one another, the thought settling into place.
Hollen whistled. "You'd turn a village lane into a silk road."
"Exactly."
Marlowe leaned back in his seat, hands behind his head. "I like it. We'll start small, move three caravans as a test run. That'll be enough to see if it catches attention."
Gareth chuckled. "And if it fails?"
I looked him in the eye. "Then we adapt. But it won't."
There was a pause. Then, one by one, each merchant nodded.
"Right," Marlowe said, clapping his hands. "We'll need scribes. Contracts. You'll need a clerk for daily ledgers and logs of trade. I'll handle recruitment."
"And I'll start drafting the tariffs," Hollen added. "Keep them reasonable. We want loyalty first, profit second."
Gareth scratched the back of his neck and then said, "If we're going in, I'm not skimping. I know a dwarf smelter who owes me a favor—he can forge us standardized weights and scales, good enough for a royal ledger."
"Do it," I said. "And I'll authorize a fund for merchant credit. Half of their fees payable after their goods are sold. We'll show them this is a place for trust."
"Bold move," Marlowe murmured.
"I'm not just building an estate," I replied. "I'm building a legacy."
Hollen chuckled. "With your backing, this might work. We could create a system to track all incoming and outgoing goods—quantities, values, taxes paid. Keep everything neat. No corruption."
"Once people realize we're honest," Marlowe added, "they'll come here just to avoid the usual extortion elsewhere."
Gareth, finally convinced, leaned forward and tapped the table. "Fine. I'll bring in some guild contacts. Quiet ones. We don't want to alert the capital yet."
"And I'll get our trading documents duplicated and sealed. We'll standardize agreements and build our own trust seal," Hollen added.
"This," Marlowe said, rising to his feet and offering his hand to me, "marks the start of something big."
I took his hand firmly. "Let's make history."
The conversation continued for another hour, maps and calculations spread like a general's campaign. By the end, each merchant had a task, a vision, and a glint in their eyes.
Finally, towards the end, I pulled out a roll of parchment from Benwick's satchel. It was a development charter—drafted the night before.
"Each of you will receive a stake in new enterprises. We are founding a tannery, a weaver's hall, and a distillery. You will oversee them. Manage their supply chains. Raise the apprentices. And when the crown visits again, they won't be calling this a baronetcy."
They exchanged glances. One man, a balding spice merchant, looked hesitant. "With respect, my Lord... this requires capital. Labor. Time."
I smiled. "And I'm giving you all three."
The dawn of commerce had arrived—and House Thorne would sit at its center.
-----
Later that day, I walked through the construction sites. Bricklayers laid the foundation of what would be the village's first water-run mill. Children carried buckets of mortar and stones, grinning. Hans shouted commands to the masons while still hammering iron at his own anvil.
It was chaos. But it was productive chaos.
"Lord Cedric!" Annika waved from a nearby shed. She had begun training three young women, all widows of old soldiers, in basic baking and kitchen management.
"They're learning quick! One of them even has a knack for glazing!"
"You'll be running a guild soon," I said.
Annika flushed. "One oven at a time, my Lord."
I moved on.
At the training yard, Victoria drilled the guards again. This time, however, she wasn't just barking orders—she was teaching. Explaining. Pausing to correct stances. She met my gaze and gave me a subtle nod.
"Greetings! My Lord."
I gave her ass a tight squeeze and replied, "Goodday, Dame Victoria, I hope everything is going alright?"
She blushed at me actions and replied meekly, "Yes My Lord, no problems."
I chuckled and let her go back to her duties.
And then there was Eloise.
She approached me near the courtyard as the sun began to set, dressed in a deep green tunic that clung just enough to remind me of last night.
"My Lord," she said, formal but warm. "You've changed this place."
"I plan to change the world."
"And will you use me to do it?"
I tilted my head. "Use you? No. You are already doing it. Simply by being here."
She smiled, almost sadly. "Then I will stay."
Before I could respond, a bell tolled twice. An alert.
Benwick came sprinting. "My Lord! A royal messenger approaches!"
I straightened. "How many?"
"Just one rider. Colors of the Duke's second son."
"Prepare the hall. Have the guards dressed in full. Inform Marlowe and Victoria."
The ripples of power had grown into waves. And I would ride them until they broke against the shores of my destiny.