Iron Hearth Castle Dining Hall. The sa night.
The sound of the heavy oak door being pushed shut by Riven echoed through the hall like a coffin being sealed. BAM.
Baron Gorm flinched. His two guards reflexively drew their swords halfway out of their scabbards.
"At ease, soldiers," Lucian’s voice sliced through the air. He didn’t shout, but his low, heavy timbre froze the guards in place. "If my son wanted you dead, you would have been corpses before that door even closed."
Gorm swallowed hard. He had co here expecting a desperate noble family, weeping and begging for rcy. But what he faced now felt... wrong. The atmosphere in the room had shifted drastically. The lion he thought was sick was rely sleeping.
Roland smiled warmly—the sa smile he used to win debates in front of hundreds of students. He walked casually toward a side table, picking up an empty wine goblet.
"Sir Gorm," Roland poured red wine into the goblet. His movents were elegant, the result of Aurelia’s etiquette training since childhood. "You look tense. Thirsty?"
Roland offered the goblet.
Gorm slapped it away roughly. Red wine splashed onto the cold stone floor.
"Don’t toy with , brat!" Gorm barked, cold sweat beading on his bald temple. "I don’t care about your manners. Pay the debt, or I will drag that girl away right now!" He pointed a shaking finger at Rhea.
Rhea simply twirled her dinner knife between her fingers at a speed the eye could barely follow. Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. Her stare was vacant, as if she were visualizing exactly which point on Gorm’s body was the softest to stab.
"About that debt..." Rianor finally spoke. He remained seated, holding the parchnt scroll as if it were a used tissue.
Rianor adjusted the collar of his robe. Without his glasses, he felt a bit odd, but his new mories inford him that Lord Rianor’s vision was perfect.
"Sir Gorm, are you a graduate of the Royal Academy of Mathematics?" Rianor asked flatly.
"What? What does that have to do with anything, you fool!"
"Because whoever wrote this contract," Rianor tapped the paper, "clearly cannot count. Or worse... they are attempting to defraud the Kingdom."
The words "Defraud the Kingdom" made Gorm’s eyes widen. That was a heavy accusation. "Watch your mouth! That was written directly by Duke Varkas’s accountant!"
Rianor stood up slowly. He walked toward Gorm with a lazy gait, yet his eyes were sharp.
"Article 1. Principal debt of 20,000 gold coins. Interest set at 15% per year. Total after ten years becos 50,000 gold coins." Rianor read in a bored tone. "In my world—I an, at the academy—we call this Compound Interest."
Rianor stopped right in front of Gorm’s nose.
"But unfortunately, King of Aethelgard’s Decree Number 44 regarding Inter-Noble Loans strictly prohibits the use of compound interest. The maximum limit is Simple Interest."
Rianor tore off the bottom part of the parchnt. Rip.
"Based on legal calculation, our debt should only be 35,000 gold coins. Not 50,000." Rianor threw the torn paper into Gorm’s face. "You tried to extort an extra 15,000 gold coins from us. If I report this to the Palace Minister of Finance... Duke Varkas could be charged with economic treason."
Gorm took a step back. His face turned beet red. He didn’t understand the term "Compound Interest," but he knew Rianor was right about the interest rules. They had deliberately inflated it, thinking the Sudraths were too stupid and desperate to check.
"It... it was just a clerical error!" Gorm stamred in panic. "Still! 35,000 gold coins! Do you have the money now? Hah?! I saw your warehouse; it’s empty!"
Now it was Roland’s turn to step up. Good Cop, Bad Cop. Rianor destroyed his logic; Roland would destroy his ntal state.
"Of course we don’t keep cash here, Baron," Roland chuckled, as if it were a funny joke. "What kind of foolish noble keeps gold in a remote castle like this? It’s prone to bandits."
Roland draped his arm around Gorm’s fat shoulder.
"Our money is currently... invested," Roland whispered. "We are working on a secret project with the Capital. A massive project. If Duke Varkas seizes this territory now, he will be disrupting His Majesty the King’s project."
Roland stared deep into Gorm’s eyes. Psychological intimidation.
"Imagine if the King found out his project failed because Duke Varkas was too impatient to collect so petty change," Roland clicked his tongue. "Whose head will roll first? Duke Varkas’s? Or... the head of the ssenger who failed to deliver the ssage?"
Gorm’s face went completely pale. He didn’t know if Roland was lying. But this young man’s confidence... it was too convincing. No bankrupt person could be this relaxed.
"G-give proof!" Gorm stuttered.
BOOM!
The dining table shook violently.
Duke Lucian stood up. His wooden chair was pushed back until it toppled over.
A thick Killing Intent—a combination of Mr. Lukman’s charisma when firing corrupt managers and General Lucian’s bloodlust—filled the room. The air felt heavy, as if the oxygen had been sucked out.
Lucian walked slowly around the table. Each footstep echoed. He stopped in front of Gorm. He towered over the small man.
"Proof?" Lucian’s voice rumbled.
He drew a ceremonial dagger from his waist.
Gorm let out a small shriek, thinking he was about to be stabbed.
But Lucian slamd the dagger into the table, right next to the spilled wine.
"The proof is that I haven’t severed your head tonight, Gorm," Lucian growled. "That is the rcy of House Sudrath."
Lucian leaned his face close to Gorm’s.
"Leave. Tell Varkas. I give him one month. I will pay the debt in full. 35,000 gold coins. Not a coin less."
"O-one month?" Gorm squeaked. "But..."
"One. Month." Lucian emphasized every syllable. "Or would you prefer I send your guards’ heads in a box to Varkas’s bedroom as a down paynt?"
Near the door, Riven deliberately pulled his greatsword two centiters out of its sheath. tal grated against tal. Shing.
Gorm’s nerve shattered completely.
Rianor’s logic made him doubt the law.
Roland’s silver tongue made him fear the politics.
And Lucian’s aura made him fear for his life.
"F-fine!" Gorm retreated, stumbling over his own feet. "One month! Exactly on the next full moon! If there is no gold... we will burn this place to the ground!"
Gorm turned and ran for his life. "Open the door! Let’s get out of this crazy place!" he scread at his guards.
Riven opened the door slowly, staring at them with cold eyes until they disappeared into the dark castle corridor.
The sound of horse hooves faded into the snowstorm.
Silence returned to the dining room.
One second. Two seconds.
"Hah..." Rianor slumped back into his chair, his legs turning to jelly. "Crazy. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest."
"Dad, your acting was insane, I swear," Roland wiped sweat from his forehead, his diplomatic smile vanishing, replaced by the relieved face of a teenager. "Man, the Roland of this world is so good at lying. Those words just flowed out of my mouth."
Aurelia let out a long sigh, then imdiately hugged Rumina and Raveena, who were still trembling. "You were all great. You were wonderful."
"But, Dad... Rian..." Riven closed the door again and locked it. His face was serious. His knightly mories made him realistic. "We only bought ti. One month."
Riven pointed at the empty table.
"We still have no money. 35,000 gold coins is an impossible amount. This territory’s tax revenue is only 500 coins a year."
All eyes turned to Rianor.
Rianor adjusted his robe. His fear was gone. Now, the ’Problem Solver’ mode was active. He looked at Rumina, who was holding her cracked drinking glass.
"Impossible if we use the locals’ thods," Rianor muttered, his eyes glinting cunningly. "Farming, hunting, taxes... those are ancient ways."
Rianor took the cracked glass from Rumina’s hand. He held it up to the candlelight.
"Rumi," Rianor called.
"Y-yes, Brother?"
"In your mories... does clear glass exist in this world? Glass perfectly transparent like the windows of our villa in Bandung?"
Rumina thought for a mont, accessing her new mories. "It doesn’t exist. The glass here is cloudy. Greenish or brownish. If you want sothing sowhat clear, you have to use magic crystals which are super expensive."
Rianor grinned.
"Roland," Rianor called.
"Yo?"
"Get your marketing skills ready. We’re going to make the rich people of this world fight over trash."
Rianor placed the glass on the table.
"We’re going to sell glass. And we’re going to make House Varkas pay our debt for us."
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