The Investors
Twenty-six investors had sunk their money into Chandler Syrup Co., Ltd.
Their list—supplied by Anais—was in my hand.
"Your Highness Anais. Is this all of them?"
"...Yes."
Most of the investors were nobles. There were commoners among them as well, but they were successful merchants for whom a barony granted in their own lifetime would have raised no eyebrows. There was even a man who could be ranked among the highest notables in the Empire.
The prime example was Marquis Rikius, the old man who had negotiated with me during the psilocybin affair. He was the principal shareholder of the Empire's second-largest bank. After Anais's fall he had kept his distance from her, or so I had heard—only to grow close to her again on the strength of the Healthy Syrup.
The rest of the roster glittered just as brightly: an executive of the weekly that carried news out of the government offices; an entrepreneur who had made his fortune selling counterfeit porcelain with an Eastern air; Professor Bobby, the foremost authority on flame magic, whom I had once run into at Minster Palace; and others besides.
So Anais hadn't been crowing for nothing. The faction that had been dismantled was coming back, and new faces were flowing in on top of it. That must have been why she had gotten so excited and started running her mouth about ephedra. In the end it had been a stupid thing to do.
Setting that aside—what was I supposed to do with these people?
"What were you planning to do with them, originally?"
The question came out of nowhere from Sienna, who had been watching.
"I meant to leave them be, whether they went under or not. I never told them to invest."
"You didn't tell them to... fine. We'll say that's true."
From the investors' point of view, of course, the rage would be boiling over. The moment this news got out, far from any windfall, every unlisted share they held would turn to scrap paper. They were physical certificates, so they might still serve as scratch paper or kindling—but that would be cold comfort.
"They'll bark for a while. Someone might even pour their resentment out on me. But sooner or later it would have gone quiet."
"Except now they've got a way to recoup the loss?"
"Yes. Blend opium and ephedra into anything at all, and that would be the end of it. I can't simply leave them alone, Your Highness Sienna."
Sienna did not look particularly pleased by what I was saying.
I could read her thoughts easily enough. Twenty-six people who had burned through their fortunes and gone half-mad, brewing up a second Healthy Syrup and distributing it on a grand scale—she probably did not think that outcome so bad. Or she might simply have decided it could not be stopped anyway.
In truth, shutting down a second Healthy Syrup completely was impossible.
They know there's money in it. They won't walk away.
Someone would certainly try something. Money made off drugs is every bit as seductive as the drug itself.
Even so, they had to be shown that one wrong step could shatter a life.
"Think of it as thinning out future competitors, Your Highness."
"I don't know. Looking at what she's done."
"One of those twenty-six may be smarter than Her Highness Anais. They might even circulate a precisely compounded drug that stops short of taking lives."
Only at the mention of eliminating competitors did Sienna finally nod. Anais, who had been staring blankly at her, muttered a hollow "Crazy bitch," but Sienna did not seem to care.
"Fine. Allan. So in the end you want to warn those people?"
"Yes. The method..."
I was about to explain it for her when Sienna cut in first.
"It's all right, Allan. I'll handle it. ...Oh, that would work. We let it be known that we intend to apply for Chandler Syrup's listing, and summon the investors to the stock exchange. Once they're gathered, swollen with expectation, we make an example of them, just as you said."
"......"
"And that's when our Anais gets to play her part. Right?"
"That's it."
Sienna's scheme was largely the same as the one I had come up with.
Had the villainess been influenced by me? Or had I, keeping pace with this woman, been colored by her without noticing? Perhaps it was both.
"Then I'll need Father's permission first. I'll go right now."
"Your Highness Sienna. First apply for an audience through the Lord Chamberlain, then cancel it at once. Say you're worried about His Majesty's mood. There's a good chance he will summon you before the day is out. Broach the matter carefully then."
"All right."
The moment the agreement with Sienna was struck, I turned to Anais.
"Your Highness the Third Princess should rest a moment as well."
It was not concern that made me say it. Anais still had one last thing to do for us. She might soon be put through something ugly, so rest was essential.
But it did not look as though she would be resting for long.
"Father gave his permission. Allan."
Sienna had secured the Emperor's leave before even half a day had passed.
Permission to make political "use" of Anais before her sentence was decided. She said the Empress had backed her.
"Thank you for your trouble, Your Highness."
The stage was set, so we agreed to carry it out tomorrow without delay.
At last, the dream of a fortune made overnight stood on the very brink of coming true.
Well—not that it's been long enough to warrant an "at last."
Professor Bobby of the Faculty of Magic smiled as brightly as a child, gazing at the scrap of paper.
It was not just paper. It was an investment certificate—stock—setting down his ownership stake and his right to dividends in Chandler Syrup Co., Ltd., the company that manufactured Healthy Syrup.
The quantity was no less than five hundred shares.
And yet the money Professor Bobby had put in was a mere hundred thousand thalers. That was the reward for getting in back when no one in the Imperial Capital had the slightest interest in Healthy Syrup. Unlike Professor Bobby, who had managed to buy at rock bottom, the people who entered a few days later had purchased shares issued at a premium, and at a very steep price.
"This is why investment ought to be left to people whose heads actually work... or so I'd like to say."
The face that had been murmuring with satisfaction darkened in an instant.
One success was hardly grounds for boasting of his talent as an investor, given how wretched his record had been until now. Ever since he had first taken an interest in investment, he had known nothing but crushing defeat. The money he had blown through along the way had long since cleared four million thalers.
Remembering the days when he bought at the crown of the head and sold at the ankle, he felt his self-respect being whittled away. Truth be told, there were still nights when he kicked the blankets off in mortification.
But the hour of self-reproach did not last long.
Right now, in Professor Bobby's hand, was stock all but guaranteed to return at least several dozen times his money. Perhaps, by grinding away both money and time all this while, he had naturally acquired the ability to spot a promising issue.
Yes. Call it expensive tuition, and leave it at that.
Professor Bobby let out a vigorous hmph! and rose to his feet.
He was going to the stock exchange.
Not for some idle outing. He was going because Princess Anais had summoned him.
Her Highness the Third Princess wishes to receive the investors in the exchange lobby after the close. She asks that the professor pass word to the other investors as well.
He carried out the instruction with a very glad heart. At the present moment there was only one reason to convene the investors at the exchange.
The listing. She probably wanted to build a little atmosphere while she was at it, now that the announcement was being made.
"It feels fast, but there's nothing strange about it at all."
For an ordinary company to offer its shares to the public, it was usual to spend a long time scraping together the tribute owed to the imperial house. But Chandler Syrup's major shareholder was Anais, a princess of the Empire. It was only reasonable to assume that such shabby formalities were unnecessary.
Merely picturing the rose-colored days ahead made Professor Bobby's chest swell until he could hardly bear it.
First I ought to show the people who laughed at me what a real score looks like.
The dean of the Faculty of Swordsmanship, who had snickered and taken quiet digs at him every time an investment failed. The junior professor who had offered cheap little lectures about how a fortune made overnight was nothing but a fantasy. And even the wife who had declared a separation a few months ago and walked out of the house.
He was curious what expressions they would wear once the listing went through.
Would they avert their eyes, too ashamed to meet his? Or lay an iron plate over their faces and try to curry favor?
A man of fifty ought not to be like this, but the mere imagining was thrilling. And before long it would be reality, not imagination.
He packed his excitement away and at last left the laboratory.
Immediately afterward, a thoroughly impressive scene met his eyes.
"A hundred and ninety thalers a bottle? That's too expensive."
"You have to pay that much. I stood in line for over two hours!"
Students trading Healthy Syrup at more than double the list price—a gratifying sight.
One of them was even a cadet of the Faculty of Swordsmanship, lately rising to considerable fame. There had been a time when the dean himself urged the boy to withdraw, but now he was a genius among geniuses, tipped as a possible contender for the youngest Master in history.
To think even that fellow was a Healthy Syrup customer. It was no exaggeration to call it a piece of good news that lifted the syrup's value another notch.
Thank you.
Feeling pride well up in him, Professor Bobby left the Academy.
A short while later. The stock exchange.
Twenty-six men and women, faces bright with excitement, were milling about in the lobby.
All of them investors in Chandler Syrup.
They were the ones who had recognized early the value of a Healthy Syrup rising to become an essential medicine of the Imperial Capital, and had dared to invest. Busy as they all were with business and investments alike, not a single one was missing from the gathering Anais had called.
Because it was a princess's august command?
It was the other expectation that had brought them.
"She summoned us over the listing, didn't she? I asked the department head before the close, and he didn't mention a thing."
"I didn't take you for such a halfwit, but here we are. What matters in the end is the imperial sanction. And I heard Her Highness Anais entered the main palace yesterday. It has to be the listing!"
"Oh, then once we've skimmed a nice profit here, as soon as we lock down an ephedra supply line..."
"You have to be careful bringing up talk like that!"
The investors chattered without reserve, all of them delighted—and then the protagonist arrived to crown the merry atmosphere.
"Her Highness the Third Princess!"
Third Princess Anais Carlyle.
The investors' eyes swung as one toward the entrance—but no cheer broke out.
Rather, several people tilted their heads as if puzzled. Others let out a stifled sound and only blinked.
"Huh?"
It was Anais's appearance.
A drab dress of linen, hair left loose, and eyes that had lost their spark, fixed only on the floor.
A shabby figure, unbefitting a princess's station. Had it not been for the distinctive Eurasian features, she would have been hard to recognize. And those escorting her were not guard knights, but the gendarmerie charged with keeping order in the Imperial Capital. To the eye, it was simply an arrest.
"Your... Highness...?"
Little by little, the smiles began to leave the investors' faces.