Disregard Fantasy, Acquire Currency 2, page 1
part #2 of Disregard Fantasy, Acquire Currency Series
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
END
Chapter 1
“You know, maybe this King Arnoud the Blood Traitor guy isn’t so bad,” Willem said, looking out of the window of the enchanted carriage.
Viviene studied her son. Her fifth son, as it turned out. It had been quite a monumental feat to come to terms with it, but… some trauma of the universe had sundered her son’s body in twain, spiritually speaking. The most embarrassing part of it was that it’d taken her so long to realize that fact—and she hadn’t even realized. Suzanne had simply told her. She had spoken to the other Willem—her Willem—and he’d assured her that this was what he wanted.
Suzanne had told them about who Willem really was. For now, Catharina and her were the only others that knew—the brothers might use it to blackmail Willem, so they decided to keep it concealed. And Tielman… Viviene honestly wasn’t sure how he’d take it.
“I mean, he sends an enchanted carriage out to fetch us,” Willem continued. “I’ve looked into how much these cost. It’s not an insignificant expense. The only transportation method less cost efficient are portals, like those Galahad uses.”
“Are you just talking to fill the air?” Viviene snapped.
“Yes, I am,” Willem answered as honestly as ever. “You’ve been giving me that evil eye of yours ever since you found out, and I’m minutely concerned about where things stand with us. We haven’t had a chance to talk about it.”
“Because you’ve been working at that production facility every day!” Viviene countered. “And when you do get back, you immediately start tutoring Dirk. I hardly even see you.”
“I’ll admit some fault. We could’ve had a ‘take your mother to work’ day,” Willem conceded. “Well, whatever. That’s done now. We’re going to the capital, and we can talk about it here and now.”
“I’ve come to terms with it,” Viviene said, sparing them a large argument. “In Valdérie, I once saw beautiful twins that were conjoined. It’s not so different from your situation. And just like you, they whored themselves to rich merchants for exorbitant sums of money.”
“Yeah,” Willem said with a nod. “Except one of us has narcolepsy.”
Viviene didn’t know what that last word meant, but she didn’t want to sound stupid by asking. “It just comforts me knowing that you have someone protecting the both of you.”
Willem stared at her. “You really came to terms with it?”
“What?” Viviene met his gaze.
“Shouldn’t you be angrier? I don’t know,” he gave up, looking out the window. “I never had the chance to be a parent for long.”
“You’re just saying that so I pity you and change the subject,” Viviene said.
“Correct.”
Viviene sighed. “Alright, fine. Perhaps we should discuss the griffon in the room. What’s your intent for the princess?”
“Ah, yes. The very first episode of The Bachelorette. The county fair livestock exhibit.” Willem looked at Viviene. “I’m sixty-five years older than her. You tell me what my intentions should be. I’d obviously win, but for decency’s sake, I’ll be throwing the competition.”
“Yes, but you’re also… look at you.” Viviene gestured at him. “Catharina reads those vampire romance novels all of the time. The vampires are thousands of years older than the ladies depicted. But the suckers look like young men. Honestly, that’s all that matters.”
“Are you serious?” Willem looked at her suspiciously.
“It might be exciting, even. All the wisdom of an aged man, but without all of the downsides,” Viviene continued. “You don’t have to hear him complain about his back or help him wash.”
“You washed Tielman?”
“I was thinking of my uncle, unfortunately,” Viviene said with a sigh. “But we were talking about vampires. Frankly, the age might be a plus for her.”
“That’s fiction,” Willem said pointedly.
“Not all of it,” Viviene disagreed. “Some of those vampire stories are based on a true story. I’ll admit to reading a few… for educational purposes.”
“Well…” Willem scratched his neck. “I never thought of that. I suppose vampires are real. Have you ever met one? I imagine not…”
Viviene slammed her boots on the floor of the carriage and leaned in intensely. “Damn it, Willem. You could be king if this goes well!”
“A literal royal we,” Willem said, gesturing to himself. “I’m aware.”
“Doesn’t that intrigue you, excite you?” Viviene pressed.
“Are you joking?” Willem scrunched up his face. “I’ve been offered positions like that before. People offered to make me CEO—that basically means king—of worldwide companies. Problem was, there was just so much utter trash to dredge through that it wouldn’t be fun at all. So many restrictions, traditions, rules and regulations, departments, bureaucracy. Blegh.” He mimed vomiting. “Made me sick. No—I much prefer something like the Society of Assured Prosperity. Something that I built, with the people I chose, running in the fashion I decided.”
“Unless this is rampant self-obsession, King Arnoud has created a very centralized kingdom,” Viviene pointed out. “You might be able to mold it as you desire.”
“In all seriousness…” Willem looked at her with a different expression. “You don’t run a nation like you would a business. Recipe for disaster. I enjoy working within the system around me. I don’t want to make the system.”
Viviene crossed her arms. “So… there is a shred of decency in that cold, gold heart of yours.”
“I don’t know about decency, but I just enjoy money a great deal more than I do any other form of power,” he said decisively. “Maybe I’d do alright in the job. All I know is that I don’t really want it. Too stressful. I didn’t live to eighty-seven by deliberately giving myself agita.”
“And what does little Willem think?” Viviene asked. “He has a say in the matter.”
“Want me to bring him out?” Willem tapped on the ring he held.
Viviene looked out the carriage window. “No. We’re nearly at the capital. He needs to be ready to defend you, if anything should come up.”
Viviene studied her son. Despite that fact that Willem did very little training… his aura continued to advance and progress. It was almost astonishing how much Junior could do with such little time.
“On that note… I wanted to make a stop once we’re inside,” Willem said, idly looking out of the window. “I’m going to be doing a lot of business in the capital, and I want to be sure that things go smoothly.”
“What kind of a stop?” Viviene asked.
“Going to visit one of your son’s old friends,” Willem said cryptically.
***
The enchanted carriage stopped outside of the gates of the capital. It wasn’t an exceptionally long distance away from Gent, which was the port city that received all of the vast quantities of grain headed this direction. Gent might be likened to Ostia, which supplied the city of Rome with grain and salt. This city, then, was naturally the other side of that analogy.
Passing underneath the walls alongside dozens of others, Willem thought back to his past when he’d traveled much of the world in his forties. Back then, Willem had always wondered what the grand cities serving as the capital of the empires of old had been like before being modernized—Rome, Constantinople, Cordoba, Baghdad, and all of the eastern ones that his Eurocentric brain conveniently ignored, likely to his detriment.
Well… he certainly didn’t need to wonder anymore.
Ravenveld—the city from which sprung the eponymously named Ravenveld dynasty—was quite the sight to behold. Most all of what he saw was built of marble, from the lowest home to the tallest estate. There were a few incredibly prominent buildings. One was a grand arena, which Viviene had told him about. The second was a church built around a towering tree whose trunk had morphed into the shape of a woman.
The third wasn’t in the city. It was the royal palace—the closest comparison Willem could draw was the Neuschwanstein Castle, but it was far grander in scale. It was perched tall and prou
Tremendously large black banners hung from the walls, while most every house sported them just the same. The sigil of the Ravenveld family—a golden raven—could be seen on these banners as far as the eye could see. Willem didn’t know whether that was a common occurrence or recent decorations to welcome all of the prospective grooms that’d be flooding into the capital.
“It’s almost too clean with how many people roam the streets,” Viviene said, standing at his side. “Makes me uncomfortable.”
“I love it,” Willem said. “I really do. This… this, Viviene, has the customer base that I want,” he said, turning to her. “How much money must the people living here have? How much wealth is just sitting out there, waiting to be spent? It’s beautiful. Some of those estates have gold decorating them. How braindead is that? I love it.”
“Right, well… don’t call them braindead too loud,” she said, pulling him to the side.
“Their heads are probably so far up their own rear ends they can’t hear,” Willem disagreed. “Now, I got some directions from a merchant in the Society of Assured Prosperity. Let’s make that stop.”
“So this is business?” Viviene said. “Why’d you never mention this to me until now?”
“Because you’d flip out, I imagine,” Willem said, then continued in a baby voice, “But I’m a big boy, and I can tie my shoes on my lonesome. Mommy is going to let me make my own decisions, right?”
“Please stop talking,” Viviene spoke quickly before he could babble more in that baby voice. “Yes, you can do what you want. I didn’t think that was a contested matter.”
“You won’t flip?” Willem pointed. “Promise me.”
Viviene hesitated, but eventually nodded. “I promise.”
“Right,” he said, patting her shoulder. “Let’s go then.”
***
“Arend,” someone said.
Arend opened his eyes to see the priestess leaning over him.
“You have visitors,” she informed him. “He says he’s an old friend from the Brugh family. His mother is here with him.”
Godfried, Arend assumed. He closed his eyes, waiting. He wasn’t totally sure that he was ready to speak to Godfried, let alone the man’s mother. He didn’t want to talk about his attempted duel against Willem van Brugh. He was grateful that she’d stopped him from doing more damage, but he wished that Viviene had killed him. Anything would be better than this life he led now.
“Look at you,” a male voice said. “You look like a shell. They told me it was bad, but… damn.”
Arend turned his head, looking at who came. Willem van Brugh walked into his humble dorm, and Arend immediately sat up in his bed, eyes wide and heart beating fast.
“See? Look how spirited he is,” Willem said, looking to Viviene. She looked incredibly angry. “I told you he’d be happy to see me.”
Arend said nothing, his breathing rapid and panicked.
“Let’s talk, Arend Rook,” Willem said, holding his arms out. “My would-be murderer.”
Chapter 2
Willem looked at Arend (formerly Arend Rook), the other side of the conspiracy to kill him that’d taken place many months ago by this point. He’d only seen the man briefly—he’d pointed to Willem and tried to say something before the government-sponsored cavalry arrived in the form of Galahad. After that, he’d seen him for a bit after Viviene had beaten the piss out of him.
Still, Arend looked worse now than he did then.
Arend had blonde hair so bright it almost appeared silver, but now it was thin and wispy. He had a terrible, patchy beard, and dark circles under his gray eyes that made him look like he’d been punched in the face. The aura within had kept his body in decent shape, but it was clear he was very out of practice. All he wore was a set of burlap rags, and he didn’t have a weapon in sight.
“Why are you here?” Arend demanded, his voice hoarse and out of practice. “If you want to finish me, I won’t resist.”
Willem tsked. “The easy way out? No, I’m afraid not.” He pulled up a nearby chair and sat down. “People like you and me are fated to live long, healthy lives.”
Arend’s lips trembled as he sat up in his bed. “I may have wronged you, Willem, but that doesn’t mean I suddenly think you’re innocent. No matter what my…” he choked, even now having difficulty saying the words. “No matter what my sister was, I know what you are,” he said with a voice of contempt.
“Shut the hell up,” Viviene snarled, taking a step forward.
Willem caught her wrist. “If you’re going to be like that, wait outside,” he told her firmly. “Or put a muzzle on it.”
“And leave you alone with him?!” she demanded. Willem stared without saying anything, and she pulled her arm free of his grip. “Fine. I’ll stay quiet.”
Willem looked back to Arend, who seemed to be getting his bearings somewhat. “Do you know what’s going on this month?”
“Why should I?” Arend said, leaning against the bedframe.
“King Arnoud is selecting a groom for his daughter among thousands of participants,” Willem said. “The person that becomes her husband is to be the heir to the kingdom. After what I did, he’s decided that I have to be a participant in this contest.”
Arend hung his head. “I don’t give a damn.”
Willem put both of his hands on his knees and stared at Arend. The man was in a deep, deep depression—that much was obvious. Having gone through a phase like this himself, he sympathized somewhat. Dorothea must have meant a great deal to him, but all of that was predicated on a lie. He couldn’t relate to the betrayal, but he could relate to the mire of misery.
Ordinarily Willem would just move on, let the man sort out his own problems. But this was something that Willem Junior wanted to fix. It was part of his big bucket list that he’d delivered in small pieces with the help of Suzanne.
And good private security was a hard thing to find for cheap.
“Do you know what I’ve managed since I abandoned the Brugh name?” Willem asked rhetorically. “I built my own business. We have well over two hundred active members in the Society of Assured Prosperity, each of whom pay a substantial annual fee trusting that I’ll look after them. And using that as a springboard, we’ve since built a manufactory that produces soap faster than you can believe. I’m also a major investor in what promises to be the most efficient shipyard in the Kingdom of Ravenveld—perhaps the world. That, alongside half a dozen other ventures just barely getting their feet off the ground.”
Arend looked at him with a hateful gaze. “Good for you.”
“What I’m saying is that being disinherited, cast out, isn’t the end,” Willem insisted. “It’s the beginning, Arend. For me, and for you. A name is just a name.”
“You haven’t been labelled as a traitor,” Arend said gutturally.
“The common perception in the barony was that I poisoned Baron Tielman,” Willem disagreed.
“Why do you care?” Arend looked over, eyes hard. “This was your plan, to reduce me to this. At best, I was just collateral damage. Do you want to use me like you’ve used so many others?”
“Exactly.” Willem pointed and nodded. “I’m glad you’re catching up.”
Arend laughed at the absurdity of the admission. “Just leave me be. I want the whole world to forget I ever existed.”
“That’ll happen naturally. Give it five hundred years for you, and maybe ten thousand years or so for me. Everyone’s forgotten someday.” Willem tapped his knee. “But today is today.”
“Damn today, and damn you,” Arend said, then laid down on his bed. “If you aren’t here to finish what you started, leave. Keep talking and I’ll call for the priestess. Just go.”
Viviene put a hand on Willem’s shoulder, gesturing for the door. He pushed her hand off and stood up.
“Alright, fine. I’ll finish what I started.”
Arend opened his eyes. “What?”
“You came bursting through the door of some stranger’s mansion looking for a duel against Willem van Brugh to avenge your family’s honor,” he said, looming large over the man as he laid there. “Your big day, taking another swing at the King of Stiff Sticks of Steel. But you missed out, on account of some timely intervention from the actual king.”
“Willem, what…!” Viviene began.
