Chapter 103: Army Strength: 10,647
Jack found Celeste in the garden, cornered by Lord Bartram, who had apparently decided that losing a drinking contest was actually an elaborate form of courtship.
"My lady," Bartram was saying, swaying slightly, "I’ve brought you roses. Red ones. Because you’re... red. No, that’s not right. Beautiful! You’re beautiful like... like a very attractive rose."
Celeste accepted the flowers with the grave dignity of a queen receiving a state gift. "How poetic, my lord. I’m particularly impressed by your metaphorical sophistication."
Bartram beamed, apparently missing the gentle mockery entirely. "I’ve been practicing! And I wrote you a song!"
"A song," Celeste repeated, glancing over Bartram’s shoulder to where Jack had just appeared around a corner. "How wonderfully ambitious."
"It’s about your hair," Bartram continued, pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment. "And your eyes. And the way you drink like a... like a very thirsty person who drinks well."
Annabelle popped up at Jack’s elbow, sketchbook in hand. "He’s been following her around all morning," she whispered. "I’ve drawn him from six different angles. He’s remarkably consistent in his foolishness."
"Should we intervene?" Jack asked.
"And deprive Celeste of her entertainment?" Annabelle looked scandalized. "She’s been toying with him like a cat with a particularly slow mouse. Watch."
Celeste tilted her head with apparent fascination. "A song about my drinking technique? How innovative. Most poets focus on traditional subjects like love or loss. But drinking methodology? That’s practically revolutionary."
"Exactly!" Bartram cried, delighted that someone finally understood his artistic vision. "Would you like to hear it?"
"I wouldn’t dream of interrupting you," Celeste said solemnly. "Perhaps you should practice a bit more? Maybe in the privacy of your own chambers? For several hours?"
"Of course!" Bartram clutched his parchment to his chest. "I’ll rehearse until it’s perfect! You deserve perfection!"
He wandered off, humming tunelessly to himself.
Celeste turned to where Jack and Annabelle stood hiding behind the hedge. "You can come out now," she called. "The danger of accidentally hearing original poetry has passed."
"That was cruel," Jack said, though he was smiling.
"That was mercy," Celeste corrected. "I could have let him actually sing it."
Annabelle held up her sketchbook, revealing a perfect rendering of Bartram mid-declaration, roses wilting in his grip, and his expression vacant with romantic determination.
"I’m calling it Portrait of a Man Who Has Never Met a Mirror," she announced.
"Frame it," Jack said immediately. "We’ll hang it in the hall next to your angels-and-drinking-contest masterpiece."
"A matching set," Celeste agreed. "We can label them Before and After: A Study in Dignified Defeat."
’I suppose it’s time for those meetings now.’
–
Representatives from three major merchant houses had requested private audiences, along with envoys from a dozen minor noble families.
Jack sat behind his father’s massive oak desk, Octavia at his right side and Seraphina stood on his left.
"House Meridian," announced a herald, "seeking water purification contracts for the coastal cities."
The merchant who approached was middle-aged, prosperous, and nervous to talk with Jack.
"Lord Kaiser," he began, "we’re prepared to offer substantial compensation for exclusive rights to your bathhouse designs in the Meridian Territories."
"No exclusivity," Jack replied pleasantly. "But I can offer you fair licensing terms. Twenty percent of construction costs, plus ongoing maintenance consultation at standard rates."
The merchant’s face fell. "My lord, surely we could discuss more beneficial arrangements? Perhaps a partnership that would give House Meridian certain advantages in exchange for guaranteed volume purchases?"
"The terms are fair," Jack said simply. "They’re also final."
The merchant glanced nervously at his aide, who whispered urgently in his ear.
"My lord," the merchant tried again, "these contracts would traditionally be ratified by the Duke..."
"These contracts are mine," Jack interrupted, his voice carrying just enough steel to cut through any remaining confusion. "My innovations, my terms, my agreements. The Kaiser family name carries weight, but this business belongs to Jack Kaiser."
The merchant opened his mouth, closed it, then nodded slowly. "Your terms are acceptable."
"Then swear it," Jack said, standing. "Your personal oath to honor the agreement."
What followed was not the casual handshake the merchant had expected. Jack required each contractor to kneel, place their hand on a ceremonial blade, and swear personal loyalty not to House Kaiser but to Jack Kaiser himself.
Some balked. A few walked away rather than submit to what they saw as excessive formality. But most recognized the shift in power dynamics and adapted accordingly.
By evening, the tally was substantial:
[DING!]
[Contracts Sealed: 5 major houses | 20 minor houses]
[Army Strength Updated: 10,647]
[New Quest Available!]
Jack dismissed the quest notifications without reading it. The System’s constant attempts were getting tiresome.
"Impressive," Octavia murmured, reviewing her ledger as the last petitioners departed. "Though I noticed you’re not building the traditional alliance web."
"I don’t want allies who serve the Kaiser name," Jack replied. "I want people who choose to stand with me. When this gets complicated, and it will, I need to know who’s loyal to me."
"And when Father asks why you’re building a personal army instead of strengthening the family position?"
Jack was quiet for a long moment. "Then I’ll tell him I learned a lesson from Aurelius. I can’t rely on him forever."
"You should go now, dear miss Evelyne is waiting patiently for you." Octavia said with a smile.
--
The private room felt intimate after hours of public ceremony. Candles cast shadows across the room.
Evelyne sat across from Jack, her usual fan replaced by a simple wine glass that she turned absently between her fingers.
"Your reputation has grown inconveniently large," she observed. "Three months ago, you were just a noble who had woken up from a coma. Now you’re someone kings notice."
"Is that a problem for House Veyra?" Jack asked.
"I see it as an opportunity."
Jack leaned back in his chair, studying her face in the candlelight. "What kind of opportunity?"
"House Veyra wants exclusive distribution rights for your innovations in Cordelia," Evelyne said simply. "In exchange for handling logistics, storage, transport, and local negotiations, we take a reasonable percentage of profits."
"Define reasonable."
"Thirty percent."
Jack laughed, short and sharp. "Ten."
Evelyne’s eyebrows rose. "That’s hardly worth the effort."
"Then don’t make the effort," Jack said pleasantly. "I can find other distributors."
"You could," she agreed. "But you won’t find better ones. House Veyra has connections throughout the coastal territories. We have warehouses, ships, and established relationships with every major port."
"All excellent reasons why ten percent of a guaranteed income stream should be more than adequate compensation," Jack replied. "You handle logistics, I provide the products that people actually want to buy. Without my innovations, your warehouses and ships carry empty air."
Evelyne set down her wine glass with deliberate precision. "You’re asking us to be your employees."
"I’m asking you to be my partners. Junior partners, but partners nonetheless." Jack’s voice remained friendly, but something in his eyes had hardened.
"The alternative is that House Veyra becomes irrelevant when every other major house starts building their own bathhouses and grain silos."
"You would flood the market?"
"I would ensure that innovation spreads as widely as possible," Jack corrected. "But I’d prefer to work with people I trust. People who understand that some opportunities require swallowing their pride."
The silence stretched between them like a drawn bowstring.
Finally, Evelyne smiled. It was the expression of a chess player who’d just realized her opponent had been thinking three moves ahead the entire game.
"Ten percent," she agreed. "With the understanding that House Veyra maintains exclusive distribution rights in our agreed territories."
"Agreed. With the understanding that those rights depend on meeting quality standards and maintaining the prices I set."
"Of course." Evelyne raised her wine glass. "To a partnership that will make us both wealthy and our enemies nervous."
Jack raised his own glass. "To the future."
They drank. The contract was sealed with handshakes and witnessed oaths. House Veyra was now bound to the Kaiser’s rising star.
–
Jack walked back toward his chambers through corridors that seemed longer than usual, his mind still processing the evening’s negotiations.
The weight of sworn loyalties felt heavier than he’d expected.
It didn’t feel burdensome, exactly, but substantial.
Seraphina appeared from the shadows near his door, silent as moonlight and twice as pale.
"Jack," she said, using his given name instead of his title. That alone was enough to stop him cold.
"What is it?"
Her eyes were darker than usual. "There’s something you need to hear before you sleep."
Jack felt his chest tighten. "Marcus Thorne?"
"Marcus Thorne is hiring mercenaries," she confirmed. "Thousands of them. Our contacts in Phallanax report they’re hiring companies of swords-for-hire moving toward the border."
Jack’s hand found the door handle, gripping it like an anchor. "He’s planning an actual war. He’s either brave or foolish."
"He’s planning to take Sorne," Seraphina said quietly.
"Yeah, that will not happen Seraphina. If he tries to harm my people or family, I will kill him myself."
[DING!]
[Threat Advisory: Marcus Thorne / Phallanax Solutions]
[Risk Level: SEVERE]
[Estimated Timeline: 30-45 days until hostile action]
Jack stared at the notification until it faded, leaving only the weight of impending violence pressing against his thoughts.
"How long do we have?" he asked.
"Weeks, maybe a month," Seraphina replied. "Maybe less if he’s willing to move because he feels confident."
Jack opened his door and stepped inside, Seraphina followed.
"Send word to everyone who swore oaths today. We have a war to prepare for."
’Corvin, I think its about time we do something about your rank.’
CAWW!!