“So… the reason that I’ve called all of you together today is because you’re the people that expressed the most concern about my ability to act as the treasurer for the Society of Assured Prosperity,” Willem said, looking out across all of those present.

  “Well, uhh… Willem, we wouldn’t want you to think that we…” one leaned in.

  “Nah, don’t worry,” Willem held up his hand. “I’m not offended in the slightest. I get it. Willem van Brugh comes down from the frigid north, you figure, ‘what does this wannabe tycoon toddler know about managing money?’ That’s an understandable perspective.”

  No one outwardly agreed… but from the expressions of the merchants at the table, at least some of them agreed with that assessment.

  “Well, I wanted you to get an early look at the good work that I’ve done,” Willem continued. “And it is good work, if I say so myself.” He looked to the side. “Dirk, you want to bring out the account books, pass them around?”

  Dirk sprung into action, distributing one-page sheets that summarized the results of the of the Society of Assured Prosperity. Some people looked surprised right away, while others dug into the paper like it was a particularly engrossing book.

  After Willem had let them read a while, he spoke up. “Net inflows to the society were 4334 gold,” Willem said. “After my investment activities and society expenses… we’re up to 5256, rounded to the nearest whole number.”

  “That’s…” one began, calculating in his head.

  “A 21.27 percent return,” Floris finished first. He was the young and shrewd merchant that Willem had liked at the first monthly meeting. “Willem… is this supposed to alleviate our concerns, or cause more?”

  “But that figure isn’t the whole picture. The Society of Assured Prosperity also has businesses providing income, now,” Willem continued. “It’s the whole owner of Robert’s Chandlery, and has a minor stake in several other businesses.”

  Floris tapped the page. “You don’t achieve something like this in a little over two months without taking on some sort of risk. You committed publicly that you wouldn’t—"

  “Let’s listen to the man’s explanation,” another encouraged, then gestured at Willem.

  “I’ll admit some luck, finding an excellent opportunity at an excellent time,” Willem said. “But… luck, my friends, is when preparation meets opportunity. I’ll break everything that I did down for you. Every loan, every purchase, every sale. Hindsight is 20/20, my friends.”

  “20/20?” someone repeated. “What does that mean?”

  “It means… if you look to the past, it all seems so obvious,” Willem continued. “And that’s why I’m positive you’ll agree that what I did was low-risk by the end of this. Because all of the things I did… they’ll seem so easy, you’ll kick yourself for missing the opportunities.”

  Floris leaned back. “Alright. I’ll listen. But if I’m not satisfied… there needs to be talks. There needs to be oversight, management… maybe a change about the independence of the treasurer.”

  “Once all of you are satisfied… we can get into the real reason I brought you here,” Willem continued. “And that’s the reason that we’re joined by an expert on the matter—Karel van der Heiden. He’s going to be giving us a presentation later about what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Karel, sitting in the corner of the room, nodded curtly.

  “Now…” Willem walked off to the side, retrieving a heavy stack of papers. “Let’s get right into the numbers, shall we?”

  ***

  “Gustav!” someone called out.

  Gustav had been walking down the streets of Gent with his dog, Mr. Clean, in his man-purse. He turned his head at the voice. A slightly overweight man ran up to him. Mr. Clean barked at him, but Gustav put his hand on the dog’s head and it calmed.

  “There you are,” the man said once he was beside him, catching his breath.

  “Guildmaster Louis. What can I do for you?” Gustav said formally.

  Louis exhaled. “I wanted to talk to you about Willem,” he said. “Apparently… I don’t know. I’m hearing some things, that… that he might be looking into industries related to mine.”

  “Shipbuilding?” Gustav said. “I’m no expert, I’m afraid.”

  “No, I was just…” Louis held his hands out. “You were right, what you said back at the guild assembly. I’m thinking that Willem might be a problem for all of us, long-term. I’m told he was talking to the members of his Society of Assured Prosperity about… I don’t know…”

  “An assembly line for ships,” Gustav finished.

  “Yes, that was it!” Louis pointed his thick finger, and Mr. Clean tried to smell it before he pulled his nose back, grimacing. “He was making some big claims about how it could drastically improve efficiency. How he’d standardize the production process, all of this nonsense. Apparently, some of the society merchants were actually taking him seriously. One of my shipwrights brought it to me that Willem had already been in talks with them.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Gustav stared. “Are you afraid your people might… sell you up a river, Louis?”

  “What?” Louis blinked.

  Gustav pet Mr. Clean ominously. “When Willem came to my doorstep, I had to take the helm myself. I was adrift in a stormy sea. And where were you? Standing at shore, watching me navigate alone.”

  “You’re doing that thing you do. The… the puns.” Louis swallowed in anxiety, acutely aware that he had courted death. “What are you saying?”

  “Anchor down if you want,” Gustav continued. “But we’re making waves. We caught the breeze; the winds of fortune, you might say. A few merchants are considering investing in our production facility. They’re tired of paying an arm and a leg for unreliable vessels. Their patience? It’s nearly capsized.”

  “By the goddess…” Louis said, then stepped away. “You’re working with him?”

  “I joined the winning team,” Gustav said. “If you’re smart, you’ll do the same. Elsewise… might be you end up shipwrecked.”

  Gustav turned and walked away, petting Mr. Clean with one hand. He took a long, deep breath of sea air, and exhaled.

  “I’ve still got it, Mr. Clean,” Gustav muttered proudly.

  ***

  “So… we’re just jumping from one battle to the next, are we?” Dirk asked, a little tiredly.

  “You don’t need to worry about that. This war will take a lot longer to come to fruition because I have to raise the capital,” Willem said. “Junior might’ve given me permission to go from squatter to renter, but I’m still going to the capital. So, you’re going to get an education from one of the best in the business.”

  “Best in the business, huh.” Dirk leaned back, massaging his aching head. “What did you actually do in your last life?”

  “The same stuff on a bigger field,” Willem said. “But I had a great many more little Dirks running about. I’d basically done what we’re doing now for the past… say, fifty years or so. Waiting for opportunity, then seizing it. You make a lot of money over the years.”

  “Dirks?” Dirk frowned. “I’m honored you’d give your other servants my name. Does that mean I’m the best you’ve had?”

  “No, you’re just the only one whose name I can remember,” Willem said, shaking his head. “Let’s get to it.”

  Dirk looked at him pointedly. “Don’t like talking about the past much, do you?”

  “No, I just had dementia,” Willem joked. “Who likes thinking about yesterday when there’s so much road ahead of us? Aren’t you excited to see where the soaping business is going to go? About this new venture, too?”

  “I mean…” Dirk shrugged. “I suppose it’s fun, sure.”

  The two of them both heard someone walking up the stairs, and turned their heads. There, Suzanne made her way in. Willem had given her a key, considering she knew his secret.

  “I returned the Lovers’ Eclipse,” Suzanne said, trudging over. “Galahad’s people have been observing you. They reported the fact that I brought that artifact to your home in the dead of night, stayed for an hour or so, and then left. They called my conduct ‘clandestine.’ I had to endure perhaps the most humiliating lie-detecting test of my life to explain myself.” She gave a smile, but her eyes seemed bitter and haunted.

  “Presumably you told Galahad that it was merely for some Willem-on-Willem action, and he understood immediately,” Willem said. “After all, where there’s a Will, there’s a way.”

  She stared at him for a few moments. “I’m going to try and forget you ever said that.” Suzanne sat. “I can’t stay long. This is my break, and then I have to go back and help him hunt down traces of Avarians.”

  “Alright,” Willem said, pushing aside the papers that he and Dirk had been working on. “Let’s convene the Council for the Confession of Conjoined Consciousnesses.”

  Suzanne sat down with a huff. “How did you avoid anyone catching on for so long?”

  Willem smiled and stared for a bit.

  Then, Willem pointed at his face. “Like that. Decades ago, I perfected the vaguely interested, slightly condescending smile to convince prospective business partners that I cared about whatever inane thing they were talking about.” Willem crossed one leg over the other, turning to Suzanne fully. “It helped that most of the Brughs didn’t want to reminisce with me.”

  “Yes, well… my brother was quite anti-social. They likely have very few memories to do so.” Suzanne looked between Dirk and Willem. “I’m thinking that you let me explain it to the others.”

  “Yeah?” Willem raised a brow. “I’m heavily in favor of delegating tasks that I don’t want to do.”

  “I’m going to ease them into it,” Suzanne said. “I’ll say… I don’t know, that you had some sort of incident, and it caused your soul and psyche to be unstable and fracture. Over time, I’ll work them up to the big fact. Maybe I’ll subtly guide them toward figuring out what condition you have.”

  “I don’t know,” Willem said. “Some of the Brughs probably don’t even realize there’s a ‘b’ in subtle. Lennard comes to mind. And I doubt they’d care enough to delve in at concern for my wellbeing, either.”

  “I’m mostly talking about Viviene, Catharina, and Anne Claire,” Suzanne said. “I can leverage my status as a spellcaster to convince them—”

  Loud knocks echoed up the stairs. Dirk stood up and go see who it was.

  Suzanne watched him go, then looked at Willem. “So… Dirk’s working for you at home, at your business…”

  “Hey,” Willem held his hands out. “He makes a killing on commissions for new clients. Makes more than I do as treasurer. He doesn’t complain, either, about his hours. Show some concern for me, if you’re feeling empathetic.”

  “No, he just seems like a good guy,” Suzanne said.

  “Well, he’s my employee,” Willem said. “Find your own.”

  “Oh yeah? He your lover, too?” Suzanne asked.

  Willem narrowed his eyes. Before he could ask anything more, two people clattered up the stairs once more. Suzanne stood up right away when she saw who it was.

  “Dad,” she said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  Baron Tielman, in brown finery, looked around before settling his gaze on Willem. “Decided to stop by here on my way back to the barony,” he explained. “There’s an important matter I need to discuss with you, Willem.”

  “Yeah, I blindsided you with the letter, I know,” Willem said calmly.

  “No, it isn’t that.” Tielman walked in, and in a different light, it became evident how exhausted he was. “You may have saved this family doing that. But… it’s cost you a great deal, I’m afraid. I’m sorry, son.”

  Willem blinked. “What are you talking about?”