(Arin's Perspective)
Night had fallen over the capital, bringing with it thick black clouds that rolled across the sky like a shroud. The atmosphere was heavy, pregnant with the promise of a coming storm. My heart mirrored the sky; turbulent and suffocating with anticipation.
I sat stiffly in a plush black velvet chair. The Duke's office was dimly lit, illuminated only by the faint, flickering glow of a magic lamp on the desk. The walls were lined with maps of war strategies, towering bookshelves, and a collection of ancient artifacts whose value could likely feed me for a decade.
I should have been awestruck. Instead, the oppressive aura in the room made it impossible to appreciate the scenery.
Behind me, a shadow knight in pitch-black armor stood motionless. His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, ready to sever my neck at the slightest sign of disrespect.
THUD!
A thick stack of documents landed heavily on the mahogany desk, right in front of my nose. Several sheets of paper drifted to the floor, revealing charts with red lines plummeting sharply downward like a cliff into an abyss.
"Look at that." Duke Edwin's voice was cold, devoid of any emotion.
The man stood with his back to me, staring out the large window at the night view of the capital. His shoulders were broad and rigid, bearing the weight of the Rhyms family's honor.
"That is the hourly financial report for Crystal Mine Sector 7," he continued as he turned slowly. His face, half-illuminated by the moonlight, looked like a ruthless ice sculpture. "Red. And continuing to plunge toward bankruptcy."
I glanced at the papers on the desk. The numbers were indeed horrific.
"Three million gold coins," Duke Edwin stated flatly. "That is the amount the Rhyms Family has lost since my naive daughter declared open war on the Benzzi Family to protect you."
He walked closer. His footsteps were silent on the thick carpet, like a ghost stalking its prey.
"The Benzzi Family sent a message two hours ago. They are willing to reopen the logistical routes and abolish the exorbitant tax. The condition is simple."
Edwin stopped right in front of my chair. He leaned in, placing both hands on the armrests, trapping me in his imposing shadow.
"They want you, Arin. Dead or alive, it matters not to them."
The sentence carried a crushing weight. If he wished it, my life would end tonight. However, the most terrifying part was what came next.
The Duke's golden eyes narrowed sharply, his gaze piercing through my skull. "But more than that... the fact that you manipulated my daughter into becoming your political shield... is intolerable."
The chill of death crawled up my spine. My survival instincts screamed, urging me to run or fight. Yet my body remained rigid, paralyzed by the intimidation of a Duke. Cold sweat poured down my back, soaking the white shirt beneath my rented suit.
Move! Move, Arin! my mind screamed in panic.
Damn it! Was I going to die here? The pressure from the Duke was so immense it made me want to bow down and beg for mercy. The knight behind me had already shifted his sword slightly from its sheath. The sound of metal on metal rang clearly in my ears.
I tried to calm my breathing. I tried to lower the intensity of the panic shouting in my head. For a moment I remained silent, letting the Duke's killing intent wash over me like a gale.
Suddenly, that image appeared in my mind again. The Golden Knight standing tall before hundreds of giant monsters. A figure who knew no fear, who did not flinch even when death stared him in the face.
That knight's courage was my way of life. If I bowed today, if I surrendered to this pressure just because I was afraid of dying, then what had I been working for all this time?
Damn you, Duke! You think I will tremble in fear?
Yes, I was afraid. But did you think I would yield just because I feared you?
Whatever happened, however difficult the path, nothing could shake my resolve. Just like that golden knight's sword that sliced through monsters without hesitation.
I straightened my back. I forced my trembling muscles to relax. I lifted my face, staring back into Duke Edwin's golden eyes.
Not with killing intent, but with resolve. Iron resolve that dared to swallow its own fear.
Edwin's eyes widened slightly seeing the defiance in my gaze. Meanwhile, the knight behind me had already taken a combat stance. One twitch of the Duke's finger, and my head would roll on the floor.
Silence and tension dominated the Duke's office.
Edwin stood still for a moment, his sharp gaze never leaving me. He was assessing me, measuring whether my guts were genuine or merely the desperation of a fool.
After a tension that felt like an eternity, he raised his right hand slightly.
The knight behind me immediately relaxed his stance, sheathing his sword silently, and returned to his original position.
The Duke had dismissed his killing intent, but his aura of intimidation remained as strong as ever. With a casual, elegant motion, he took a cigar from a box on the desk, then heated the tip with a small flick of fire magic from his index finger.
The smell of expensive cigar smoke, fragrant yet suffocating, began to fill the air between us.
"So, Boy..." The Duke blew a cloud of white smoke toward me. "Give me one reason. One logical, business, and purely profitable reason. Leave my daughter's feelings out of it. Why should I refuse their offer? Why should I keep a parasite like you who cost me millions of gold?"
He was giving me a chance to speak? This was a narrow window for survival.
My heart raced like a broken steam engine. My first instinct was to beg, to prostrate myself, and promise to serve as a slave for life.
But my rational brain slapped my consciousness hard.
Do not beg like a weakling!
This man did not care for devotion or blind loyalty. He was a merchant, and he cared for the balance sheet that measured profit and loss. If I begged, I would look weak. And in business, the weak get eaten.
I took a deep breath, suppressing the tremor in my hands, then looked him straight in the eye.
"Three million gold coins," I said, trying to sound calm though my voice was slightly hoarse. "A pathetic figure for a Duke of your stature."
Edwin's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did you say?"
"You are angry over losing pocket change, Your Grace," I continued, daring to play my biggest card. "Whereas, if you hand me over to Benzzi tonight... you would be throwing away potential profits that could buy the entire mining assets of the Benzzi Family ten times over."
Edwin fell silent for a moment, then laughed cynically. A dry, mocking laugh. "You are good at bluffing, Kid. What do you have? Experimental muscles? I can hire a thousand mercenaries stronger than you with my pocket change."
"Muscles are cheap, Your Grace. But... ideas are expensive."
I reached into my jacket pocket slowly, ensuring my movement didn't look threatening so the knight behind me wouldn't decapitate me. I gripped the small glass vial containing the clear yellowish liquid I had prepared earlier.
I placed it on top of the messy stack of loss documents.
Clink.
The sound of glass meeting wood broke the silence of the room.
"What is this?" Edwin stared at the vial with disgust, as if looking at sewer water. "Poison?"
"Liquid gold," I answered firmly.
I stood up slowly, picking up the vial again and swirling it under the light of the magic lamp so the liquid shimmered.
"This world is wrong in treating diseases, Your Grace. For centuries, we have relied on Potions and Healing Magic monopolized by the Church and Alchemists."
I stared back at Edwin sharply.
"Potions work by accelerating cell regeneration. If a soldier is stabbed by a sword, a Potion closes the wound. But what about fever? What about coughing blood? What about lung infections? What about the plagues that kill thousands of commoners every winter because they cannot afford expensive Potions?"
I paused, letting my question hang in the air.
"Potions only repair broken fortress walls. But Potions do not kill the enemy that has already entered the fortress and is eating it from the inside."
"And this murky water can?" asked Edwin skeptically, though his eyes began to fixate on the bottle in my hand. His business instincts were starting to stir.
"This is not magic. This is science," I stated firmly. "This liquid kills the 'invisible enemies' in the blood. Tiny creatures called Bacteria. The number one cause of death for the common people."
I placed the vial back on the desk, sliding it slightly toward the Duke.
The Duke looked at the vial. He shook it and held it up to the light, looking for sediment. Edwin showed his thoroughness as a merchant who was not easily fooled by counterfeit goods.
"Production cost?" asked Edwin reflexively. His merchant soul was hooked instantly.
"Rotten bread, distilled water, and biological waste," I answered with a thin smile, feeling I was beginning to control the flow of the conversation. "Less than five copper coins per bottle."
Edwin's eyes widened. His pupils dilated. He rapidly calculated the profit margins in his head.
"Five coppers..." he muttered softly. "The cheapest Potion costs fifty silvers. If we sell this for just ten silvers..."
"Then the commoners, who make up ninety-five percent of the kingdom's population, will discard Potions and switch to this medicine. We will monopolize the general medicine market that has never been touched by the Alchemist Guild or the Church because they are too busy serving the rich."
I leaned in slightly, staring at him with the intensity of a visionary.
"You lost three million gold from the mine? With this medicine, we can print thirty million gold in the first year. We don't need to dig dirty earth and fight over logistical routes. We harvest money from the diseases of the poor across the entire kingdom. No, across the entire Continent."
Edwin Rhyms fell silent for a long time. He placed the small vial down carefully, gazing at it as if it were the most beautiful gem in the world. The anger on his face vanished without a trace, replaced by pure greed sparkling in his eyes.
He knew I wasn't lying. He knew I wouldn't dare risk my life with empty bluffs in front of him. Even so, a hint of business skepticism still appeared on his face.
"What about production scale?" he asked seriously.
"For now, it can only be made manually, so capacity is limited. But I promise to present a mass production method to you. Please give me time to develop it."
I bowed my head slightly, giving the Duke space to think and decide. Before long, his intimidation aura subsided completely.
"You..." Edwin chuckled softly, then laughed aloud. His voice echoed in the large room. "You are truly a cunning little bastard, Arin. You want to sell bread trash as medicine?"
"I want to save lives, Your Grace," I corrected diplomatically as I straightened up. "Profit is merely... a pleasant side effect."
Edwin placed the vial back on the desk carefully, as if afraid to break it. He looked at me with a satisfied smile.
"Three months," he stated firmly. "Whatever it takes, you must find a method to mass-produce this within three months. If successful, the Rhyms Family will support you fully."
Damn! He was right. Growing pure Penicillium without contamination on a large scale needed very stable temperatures and sterile containers. I needed magic for this bacteria farm. Even so, I smiled in relief. That time was more than enough. My life was safe for now, and my future was secured.
"As you command, Your Grace."
I bowed respectfully in a perfect knightly manner.
"By the way," Edwin asked again as he re-lit his cigar which had gone out. "What is the name of this medicine?"
I paused for a moment. The memory of my mother mixing fungi in the old shack flashed through my mind. The foreign word she often used came back to me.
"Antibiotics."
Outside the window, the full moon shone brightly through the black clouds. Tonight, I didn't just survive death. Tonight, I had just laid the first stone to build my own kingdom.