The Fool's gilded dream part 4
The sudden influx of three hundred million gold marks didn't just stabilize Avangard; it sent a shockwave across the continent that rattled the chandeliers in the Northern Empire's Winter Palace.
In the High Spire, the atmosphere had shifted from the tension of a hunt to the meticulous grind of a massive logistical operation. Leornars sat at his desk, watching the glass tubes on his wall. The blue liquid—representing the Northern Empire—was bubbling violently.
"They've noticed," Stacian said, entering with a stack of intercepted missives. "The North has declared an 'emergency tariff.' They're claiming our social fund is a hidden war chest."
A Cold Visitor
The heavy mahogany doors groaned open. Avryl walked in, looking annoyed. Behind her stood a man wrapped in furs of white fox, his posture so stiff it seemed reinforced by steel.
"Lord Vishta Vinis Vermillion the Sixth," Avryl announced, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "He says his name takes as much breath to say as it does to travel from the Tundra. He's here to 'discuss' our ledger."
Lord Vishta Vinis Vermillion VI stepped forward, his eyes as pale as a frozen lake. "Auditor. Your recent... philanthropic outburst has caused a blizzard in our markets. My Emperor finds your 'Social Fund' to be an act of economic aggression."
Leornars finally raised his head. "Aggression? I am feeding orphans, Lord Vishta. If the Northern Empire finds morality aggressive, perhaps your problem isn't with my ledger, but with your conscience."
Vishta Vinis Vermillion VI narrowed his eyes. "Do not play the saint. We know Barrett found a Heart of the World. That gold belongs to the continent's stability, not your personal experiments."
The Cost of Freedom
"Stability is a word used by those who fear the math of change," Leornars said, standing up. He walked to a large chalkboard covered in complex equations.
"Look at this, Lord Vishta," Leornars commanded, pointing to a variable labeled \Delta P. "This represents the projected growth of the neutral zones. By my calculations, your Empire's GDP will drop by 15\% because you can no longer compete with my subsidized manufacturing."
Vishta's face flushed. "You are admitting to a deliberate attack on our crown!"
"I am admitting to an optimization," Leornars corrected. "If your Empire relies on the misery of others to keep its currency afloat, then your Empire is a bad investment. I am merely shorting your stock."
"The Vermillion line does not take threats lightly," the Lord hissed. "We have the largest cavalry in the hemisphere. Gold cannot stop a spear."
"Actually," Leornars replied with a terrifyingly calm smile, "I've already spent thirty million of that gold on a new alloy for our Golems' plating. It's highly resistant to frost-magic. Would you like a demonstration, or shall I just mail you the casualty projections?"
The Checkmate
The silence was heavy. Lord Vishta Vinis Vermillion VI looked at Avryl, then back at the Auditor.
"This isn't over," Vishta whispered.
"It never is," Leornars murmured. "Stacian, see the Lord out. And please, use the side exit. I don't want his frost-magic upsetting the temperature-sensitive documents."
As the Northern envoy was led away, Avryl leaned against the desk. "He's going home to sharpen his spears. The Vermillions don't do 'math'—they do blood."
"Then we shall teach them that blood is simply another liquid asset," Leornars said. "Stacian! Offer 'asylum bonuses' to any Northern mages. Let's see how fast their cavalry moves when their healers are on my payroll."