Interlude: The Price of Victory

His eyes burned. He had been staring at the monitor for far too long.

He worked through a set of eye exercises, rolling his gaze from corner to corner. He had lost track of how many days it had been since he last went home. Not that going home would have changed much — a quick shower, a few hours of sleep, then straight back to the office. Even so, there was a world of difference between being chained to the company around the clock and stealing even a brief moment to clear his head at home.

"Not in the twenty-sixth either, huh. Now, the twenty-seventh was… wait, what was it again?"

Half-dazed, drifting somewhere between sleep and waking, he opened a new file.

A sudden cold pressed against his cheek. A coffee can. He rolled his neck to one side, working the stiffness out of it.

"Drink that and get back to it."

His senior held the can out with an easy, good-natured smile. He took it.

"Still haven't found it?"

"Not yet. What about you?"

"Same here."

A conversation with absolutely no nutritional value passed between them.

He cracked the tab. The can hissed. He frowned down at it.

"Carbonated coffee? What kind of unholy hybrid is this?"

"It's new. Tell me what you think. They say the caffeine and the fizz combine to juice your overtime energy by three hundred percent. Maybe I should put in a word and have them stock the break room by the case."

"I'm good. Not drinking that."

He set the can on the desk and turned his eyes back to the machine in front of him. A high-performance computer occupied the surface, thick cables spilling over the edge and snaking toward the center of the laboratory.

"Do the clients even know our company's in a full-blown emergency?"

"If they knew, would they keep sending us work? Then again, maybe they would. Those people only care that whatever they commissioned gets done without a hitch."

The company kept attracting clients the way it always had. They were not so foolish as to let internal problems leak to the outside. On the surface, everything ran without a ripple.

Nothing ever went wrong with the clients' merchandise. That was why some among the executives treated the whole affair as no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠big deal.

From where he sat, the path the company was walking was a sheet of thin ice. It would not have surprised him in the slightest if the ice gave way today and they plunged straight into a freezing lake.

"Keep at it."

His senior flicked a hand in a lazy wave. He nodded.

"You too."

The brief respite was over. Hide-and-seek resumed.

It had been a longer fight than I expected. The territorial war between Coulon Territory and Ernest Fief was over, and the victor was Count Coulomb.

The original story had been twisted almost beyond recognition. In the source material, it was Count Ernest who had claimed the glory of victory. The War Mage Division he had so proudly fielded had been annihilated, and his knights and territorial army had been driven into full retreat.

The force that fled back to his own fief was barely half of what he had marched out with.

Ernest Fief would decline from here — slowly, but without much hope of reversal. Count Ernest had taken a blow too severe to undo. Even if Count Coulomb never lifted another finger against him, the neighboring lords would keep him in check on their own.

Still, Count Ernest's power isn't completely dead. He won't collapse anytime soon.

The fact that he had been gutted this badly was already a massive gain for me. My next target was Count Coulomb. One way or another, I would kill him and take Coulon County for myself. While I was busy usurping Coulon Territory, not having Count Ernest in a position to interfere was going ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to matter a great deal.

This might even rewrite other futures in the Solari World. The outcome of a war had been flipped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on its head; it would not be strange at all if that sent the entire continent down a different path. Of course, if I started obsessing over every butterfly effect, I would never get anything done. So I decided to simply enjoy the win in front of me.

This territorial war had given both Count Coulomb and me a great deal. I had distinguished myself enormously, and the Count had come to rely on me heavily.

Count Coulomb, unlike me, had not only gained. He had lost the things most precious to him. Both of his sons had died in the war.

The moment the fighting ended, he held a memorial for the two of them. Every heir who could have succeeded the family was gone. The grief of losing his sons was one thing, but Count Coulomb also had to confront the problem of succession. At the funeral, he broke down wailing before their portraits.

The funeral lasted a week. Both sons had been saints in the mold of their father. The elder, Hendrick, had been a warrior with a man's burning heart and a soul that raged against injustice. The younger, Dedric, had been a gifted man of gentle character and a brilliant mind.

Nobles, commoners, and slaves throughout Coulon Territory mourned the two heirs. The funeral procession wrapped itself around the whole of Coulon, and many more came in from other villages across the county to pay their respects.

Bards composed songs mourning the heroes' righteous deaths. Blacksmiths kept their forges silent for the entire day the brothers' coffins were laid in the earth. Children offered flowers they had picked themselves from the fields, praying the two would reach heaven safely, and the surviving Reiss Knights bore the coffins, accompanying their young lords on one last walk.

The funeral was sad. It was solemn.

It was fucking boring.

Even as they mourned the brothers with grief-stricken faces, people could not help wondering who would become the next head of the Coulomb family. It was a natural enough curiosity.

"Think His Lordship will sire a new heir?"

"He'll have to, won't he? Both sons who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were meant to inherit died in battle. Can you imagine the grief?"

"They were both such wise, decent men… tsk. What a shame."

"Takes something special to send both sons to the battlefield like that. If it were me, I could never send my children to war."

"That's how much he loves this land, I suppose. Taxes are cheaper here than anywhere else, you know? I've never once seen His Lordship so much as flush with anger during a trial. We're lucky to have been born in Coulon County."

Victory in the territorial war had spread Count Coulomb's reputation not only through his own county, but into the neighboring territories as well.

As for me, the rights the Count had promised came through. I no longer had to pay taxes in Coulon Territory. For a merchant, that was an enormous privilege.

Even setting the tax exemption aside, this war had left me with a great deal. I checked the rewards from the quest I had cleared.

I had raked in a fortune of Bonus Points and Credits. Bonus Points were for raising my stats. Credits were for buying items or unlocking abilities and skills. The more of both I had, the better.

I earned this much, and the second I actually try to spend any of it, my hands start shaking.

When it came to Bonus Points and Credits, I was a miser of the highest order. The two of them were so absurdly useful that I could never bring myself to spend them lightly.

And that was not all I had walked away with.

Count Coulomb had personally gifted me an enormous mansion — the estate originally meant for his second son, Dedric. When an elder brother inherited the family, the younger typically moved out of the castle, and the Count had commissioned the place himself with that day in mind. It was called a mansion, but sitting on the most coveted plot of land in Coulon, it was a small castle in all but name.

And most important of all was my newest fucktoy, Mason Elper. I had Arme smuggle her out before the Coulon territorial army could get to her, which was the only reason Elper had made it out alive.

From Elper's point of view, her master had changed twice in rapid succession. First Baron Horton, then Gion Pirean, and last of all, me. The ever-opportunistic Elper knew exactly what she needed to do to survive.

"Looks like the big stuff's more or less wrapped up."

I had handled the broad strokes and left the details to Luna and Arme. Luna had announced that she would be hiring new servants befitting a mansion of that size, and she was brimming with confidence that she would land the finest chef in Coulon. Her obsession with my belly fat bordered on the fanatical.

The territorial war had kept me here far too long. The days had been so packed with crises that it felt like only a handful had passed, but in truth I had spent more than two months in this place.

I still had not figured out how to deal with Count Coulomb. And how I would claim his wife Rienna after killing him was still an open question.

Both of those things mattered to me. But one crisis was over now, and I could afford to take my time. I decided to head back to reality.