Returning to his estate in Caplania, Meklen Neum felt as if he were waking from a bizarre, fantastical dream.
Everything here exuded an air of wealth and power.
The masterworks hanging on the walls were each priceless.
The plush carpet on the floor came from distant Sami.
Even the air was filled with the fragrance of a mixture of expensive spices and aged fine wine.
This was his kingdom.
Yet at this moment, Lacey's figure and Lacey's words swirled in his mind, refusing to leave.
"War..."
"A hundredfold profit..."
"Are you... a qualified merchant?"
Meklen irritably unfastened the button at his collar, pacing back and forth in his study.
Outside the study's floor-to-ceiling windows was the bustling night view of Caplania. Factory chimneys spewed black smoke, and the ships on the canals were brightly lit.
All of this was his masterpiece, the commercial empire he was so proud of.
But Lacey had told him that all of this was not enough.
He walked over to a map of Terra, his gaze sweeping between Leithanien and the surrounding nations.
He mobilized his family's entire intelligence network, spreading the latest reports across his desk one by one.
The Ursus Empire, just as he had said, was indeed plagued by successive Infected riots. The new emperor was at his wit's end, and there were even rumors that several military factions on the border were already showing signs of disloyalty.
From any angle, Ursus lacked the capacity to launch a large-scale war between nations.
Victoria and Kazimierz were the same.
All signs indicated that the continent of Terra would continue to maintain its peace.
Lacey's theory of war was utter nonsense, the delusion of a madman.
"A madman..." Meklen muttered to himself.
He summoned his most trusted advisors, a group of old foxes who had been immersed in the Leithanien business world for many years.
He omitted Lacey's name and ambition, merely tossing out the hypothetical business plan of "stockpiling war materials and shifting industry towards military production."
The result was entirely expected.
"Lord of the family, this is absurd!" the gray-haired chief advisor nearly leaped out of his chair.
"Stockpiling war materials during peacetime? That's commercial suicide!"
"Food and medicine have expiration dates, and steel will only rust in warehouses!"
"We are merchants, not gophers preparing for doomsday!"
"Indeed, Lord." Another thin man in charge of finances adjusted his glasses.
"Converting civilian production lines to military ones not only requires a huge investment, but if there are no war orders, those lines are nothing but a pile of scrap metal."
"Our cash flow would immediately break, and the very foundation of our family would be shaken!"
"Forgive my bluntness, my lord, but whoever proposed this plan either knows nothing about geopolitics or wants to see the Neum family go bankrupt!"
The advisors' reactions were fierce and unanimous, repeatedly admonishing Meklen.
They were right about everything; every one of their arguments was unassailable.
According to normal business logic, Lacey's plan was a one-way street to hell.
Meklen waved them away in frustration, and once again, he was alone in the study.
He felt a profound sense of exhaustion and loneliness.
These intelligent men, whom he had once relied upon as his right and left hands, now seemed so... short-sighted.
They could see the steel rusting in the warehouse, but could they not see that after war broke out, this steel would be more expensive than gold?
They could calculate the risk of a broken cash flow, but could they not calculate the terrifying profits that would come from monopolizing a nation's war machine?
Their eyes were blinded by the veneer of peace.
But Lacey, that madman, had torn back this curtain, allowing him to see the future full of opportunity that lay beneath.
Meklen was suddenly reminded of his grandfather.
That old man who bet his entire fortune on the Witch King when no one else was optimistic—hadn't he also been condemned as a madman by everyone at the family council?
Those uncles and cousins could only watch as his grandfather ascended to the pinnacle of power, while they were left far behind.
History was so very similar.
"The greatest risk of all is missing out on the entire era..."
Meklen heaved a long sigh.
He walked to the liquor cabinet, not touching any of the expensive collectibles, but instead pulling out a bottle of cheap liquor from his hometown from the very bottom shelf.
This was the drink he loved most in his youth—harsh, searing, but it cleared the mind.
He didn't use a glass, instead taking a large swig directly from the bottle.
The fiery liquid burned its way down his throat to his stomach, and a long-lost feeling of bold heroism surged up from the bottom of his heart.
If Lacey can gamble, why can't I?
He remembered the look in Lacey's eyes in the throne room.
He was certain that was absolutely not the look of a madman.
He remembered the energetic workers in Wasser Fief, the factories rising from the ground—it was a kind of cohesion he had never seen before.
Lacey isn't predicting a war, he's creating one!
He wants to unify Leithanien, to forge this country, consumed by internal strife, into a single fist and strike outwards!
And he, Meklen Neum, had the opportunity to become the chief engineer of this war machine!
Greed, in the end, triumphed over fear.
Meklen slammed the bottle down on the table, making a dull thud.
All hesitation and struggle in his eyes vanished, replaced by a kind of resolve.
The resolve of an all-or-nothing gamble.
He had figured it out.
As long as Lacey took that seat, it was as good as readily available wealth beckoning to the Neum family.
If that's the case...
He walked to his desk, picked up a pen, and swiftly wrote a series of orders on a blank sheet of parchment.
"Inform the Third Mining Group to acquire all iron ore and coal on the market, regardless of cost. Buy as much as there is."
"Order the Shipping Guild to divert half of our transport capacity north and begin secretly stockpiling Ursus grain and furs."
"Have the chief engineer of the engineering department see me. I want him to immediately assemble a team to secretly survey a railway line from Wasser Fief to Caplania."
"And... establish a 'Special Projects Office' in my name, to report directly to me."
"Transfer all the smartest and boldest young people in the family into it."
He finished writing the last order, blew the ink dry, rolled up the parchment, sealed it with wax, and stamped it with the seal of the Neum family.
He rang the bell on his desk.
The thin old butler entered noiselessly.
"My lord, what are your orders?"
Meklen handed him the wax-sealed letter.
"Give this to my representative. Have him go to Wasser Fief at once and find Lady Gertrude."
"Tell him that the Neum family will accept His Excellency Lacey's second proposal."
The old butler took the letter. He could feel that this piece of parchment carried the fate of the entire family.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but upon seeing the unquestionable look in Meklen's eyes, his words turned into a sigh. He bowed and withdrew.
In the study, Meklen slowly sat back in his chair, gazing at the brilliant nightscape outside the window.
From this moment on, he was no longer the conventional, law-abiding merchant Elector.
He had become a gambler.
A thorough gambler who had bet the entire future of his family on that madman, Lacey.
But he did not regret it in the slightest.
Because he knew that his grandfather and his father, were they still alive, would have made the same choice.
Because they were all qualified merchants.
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