The Cutoff

Third Princess Anais stood before the investors in the figure of a prisoner.

It had not been her choice. What was the point of bringing investors to heel when everything was already finished? She had stepped forward for one reason only: because Sienna had ordered her to.

She had wanted to refuse, and could not. Sienna had been good enough to explain what would follow if she failed to cooperate.

"Do exactly as you're told, and I'll put in a word so the sentence lands a little lighter. Play it well, and maybe it ends with you shut in a convent. Of course, you can refuse. That would be fun in its own way. I'm only doing this to keep Allan happy."

The look on her face all but hoped for a refusal. That left Anais no choice but to agree.

She did not believe the promise of help for a moment. A refusal, though, would bring something worse than confinement. Of that she was certain. The board had already struck the floor. She had no wish to go sightseeing in the cellar beneath it.

The task set before her was to lay her crimes out in front of the investors. A public confession, when all was said. That alone would feel like torture, but it was still better than being paraded through the streets. At least she would not have to wear a placard around her neck.

Finish it quickly, and be done.

Anais opened her mouth. Her voice crawled back down her throat as she spoke.

"I know this must come as a shock. Please, just hear me out."

"Your Highness!?"

"…I said listen. That's all."

Eyes lowered, she began to recite her offenses, flat and mechanical as a clerk reading from a list.

Anais shut her eyes tight and brought it to a close.

"My lords. Ah—and those of you who aren't lords… in any case. I'm sorry, but the manufacture and distribution of Health Syrup will cease as of today."

"No—then quickly, some countermeasure…!"

"A countermeasure? There isn't one. It's shameful to admit, but I can no longer promise anyone a future. I may be confined before long. I'm sorry for the losses you've taken through no wish of mine, but you would do well to keep your heads down. …Unless you'd like to end up like me."

With that, the public confession was over.

The reaction was different on every face. One man only blinked, as if he could not make himself believe it. Another stood with a hand braced at his waist, staring into empty air. There was even a rather darling contingent trading whispers, in a manner quite unbecoming of their years. Set aside Professor Bobby, who had suddenly begun to sob as if his heart were breaking, and they were, on the whole, composed.

Has it not sunk in yet?

She was still turning that oddness over, head tipped to one side, when someone sidled up and addressed her.

"Er, Your Highness the Third Princess?"

It was Marquis Rikius, who had once presided as the head of Anais's faction.

Expecting some ordinary word of comfort, she looked at him. Years of dealings lay between them. Surely he would not simply see her off and go.

"Go on. Say whatever you like."

What came out of the marquis's mouth was nothing like comfort.

"Thank you, Your Highness. Ah… the cultivation and use of ephedra itself hasn't been prohibited, has it?"

What?

Certain she had misheard, Anais opened her eyes wide.

I may be shut in a convent any day now, and he's shopping for a business?

Convent or house arrest, it was all the same hell to Anais, who had lived her whole life in luxury. If one had to choose, the convent was worse. Confinement there came, as a matter of course, with a vow of celibacy. Either way it was a sentence of withering away, barely keeping hold of one's life.

What is he thinking? Has he lost his mind?

She could not begin to understand it. Marquis Rikius, however, had a smile caught between his teeth, and he began, very carefully, to coax her.

"Your Highness is only seventeen. Surely Her Majesty the Empress will not simply stand by and watch? I can't say for certain, but in a year or two her petition will see the confinement withdrawn. Please don't worry yourself too much."

And who, exactly, did he imagine had reduced her to this, that he could talk like that? For an instant the anger surged up her throat. She swallowed it, and decided to hear the rest of whatever he was spewing.

"Health Syrup was the first enterprise Your Highness began. It can't be allowed to end so emptily, can it…? There were missteps, yes, as there are at the start of anything, but if we put our heads together it can be improved. The danger must be reduced, and only the effect preserved."

"And?"

"If this business is set on firm ground, Your Highness's return will be that much easier. So please, tell me. Ephedra itself is not to be banned, is it?"

She could not possibly give him that.

On the off chance, Anais turned and looked over the others' faces.

Every one of them wore a look of ruin, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and yet, even so, their eyes clung this way with naked desperation. Someone had even pressed their hands together and begun to pray.

What that behavior meant was obvious.

Once they've sent me off, they mean to keep the business going among themselves.

Whether she was confined or not, they clearly intended to go on making money—using, no less, the methods she had handed them. At the time she had not even thought of it as handing anything over. People said there was no such thing as family before money, but she had to wonder whether these creatures possessed human hearts at all. For a moment, even her hatred of Sienna went pale beside it. To think she had trusted bastards like these and built a business on them. A hollow little laugh slipped out of her.

"Your Highness Anais? Are you all right? Your color…"

"No. I'm fine."

"Ah! Then that's a mercy, at least."

"A mercy…? Yes. House arrest, a convent cell—what difference does it make. I lost to that bitch Sienna and that bastard Allan Madoff either way. It's only a little sad that I have to keep moving the way they pull the strings, right up to the end."

Thanks to the investors, stepping into the next stage came considerably easier.

In the next moment Anais let out a sigh and turned to the military police second lieutenant at her side.

"He's outside, isn't he? …Bring him in."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Him?" A murmur spread among the investors, but it lasted only a moment.

The man now entering the lobby saw to that.

"I've heard the gist of it. They seem to be cut from the same cloth as Her Highness the Third Princess."

The man who appeared while daring to talk like that was Allan Madoff.

Perhaps out of regard for the exchange being the heart of finance, he wore a crisp dress uniform. It was not an appearance that could win anyone's favor. Not because he was ugly. A killing air clung to him; set that aside, and the face itself was a fine one. Only, in his hand, there rested an old morningstar.

Past caring how it ended, Anais let her head fall.

The moment I stepped into the exchange, every eye swung my way.

I had wanted to leave the finish to Sienna. Passing the unpleasant work up to one's liege is, after all, part of a vassal's duty. Even so, I was the one who had stepped forward, and the reason was a charge the Emperor had laid on Sienna. He would not abide the sight of his beloved second daughter personally dragging the youngest through a shame-parade. Sienna, it seemed, could not refuse that order either, and so the turn had simply come around to me. There was no one else who could stand in, anyway.

Right. Better that I do it.

I settled my grip on the morningstar—the haft familiar in my hand—and looked the investors over. I hadn't brought it to use. Still. You never knew.

"A weapon, in the exchange…?"

Some witless voice. I ignored it and went straight to the point.

"Setting aside Her Highness the Third Princess's fall, you still seem to have ephedra on your minds. Do you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠intend to launch a new venture?"

"Would that… be illegal?"

"I could have it made illegal. I would rather not. Ephedra is a drug of overwhelming effect against asthma, coughs, and rhinitis. And if you have any sense, you'll be more careful from here on, so the harm will shrink."

Yes. Honestly, cutting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it off at the root would be difficult.

That did not mean I had no way to keep them on a leash.

"You are free to start whatever business you like. …I will, however, tell you one thing. If you enter this trade, I will immediately prepare a product of my own that makes use of ephedra."

"What?"

"To be precise, I will manufacture and distribute ephedrine. Ephedrine is… easier to grasp if you think of morphine. Morphine takes opium as its raw material, yet its effect is more than ten times greater. Ephedrine stands above ephedra in the same way."

By then, they all seemed to understand what I was saying.

The investors' faces began to set, and fast. Even so, having opened the board, I was better off driving the nail all the way in.

"I guarantee it. Compete with me, and you will fall. You will take losses that dwarf anything you're looking at now."

No answer came back.

It didn't seem to be that they had failed to grasp me and were fumbling for words. Nor was it likely they were dismissing, as bluster, something said by the man who had already made morphine and carried it all the way to a military contract.

They want to know whether I'll really do it.

At length, one of the investors put that doubt into the air.

"…We can't, but you can?"

"It's a considerable leap, but you're free to take it that way. I know a method that earns the money without killing anyone. I won't be selling it to whoever happens by on the street, and I certainly won't be stirring it into a syrup."

"The imperial house won't stand for—!"

"I am confident I can secure the cooperation not only of Her Highness Sienna, but of Her Majesty the Empress. Think about it. Why else is Princess Anais standing in front of you?"

"……"

The faces turned on me began, by degrees, to contort.

Dispossession. Disbelief. Must you really take every last piece of it. That sort of feeling.

Even I could see the shape of it: the power of the state at my back, and a rival cartel strangled before it was born. There was no other play. As if a polite warning would have been heard. At times like this, browbeating was best. To make the message plainer, I leveled the morningstar at Anais.

"Her Highness the Third Princess stands where she stands because she ignored my advice. Step into this market, and you will be hurt worse than she has been."

At that, a few of the twenty-six investors stared blankly at the scraps of paper that were, presumably, their shares in Chandler Syrup.

Stock that was, for all practical purposes, trash.

Perhaps because even that last hope had broken, some of them began to weep. I ignored them.

Better that they be hurt than that the peddlers multiply.