Chương 72: Chapter 70. Almonds

"Are you okay?" Adom asked, watching Cass's face in the dim light of the cave.

"Shh," she replied, not taking her eyes off the mountain of gold before them. The only sound was Zuni chirping softly as he hopped around the edge of the treasure pile, occasionally pawing at a shiny coin before moving on to investigate something else. Adom stood quietly beside Cass, hands in his pockets, trying to look casual while she absorbed the sight. He'd brought her here after they'd sealed their deal in the park. The silence stretched. Adom's thoughts kept spinning. Doubt. Is this too fast? More doubt.

Is this too much? He was essentially putting everything of this business venture on Cass. She would be the main face of it all—the management, the negotiations, the day-to-day operations. And, as it happened... She would also be the primary target if someone decided to make a move against them. The sort of move that'd be bad for one's overall health. He tried not to feel bad about putting her in danger like that.

He could maybe manage this all by himself, but with everything else he had going on, it would take too much of his time. And quite honestly, he'd be much less efficient than someone like Cass even if he was to take over, and the whole operation would suffer. Wisdom is knowing when to lead, when to delegate, and when to stand alone. That's why she'd gotten the seven percent base with twelve percent performance bonus. The risk premium was built in.

He'd spent enough time with her in the dungeon and over the past few weeks to know she was the right choice. As the porter, Cass took care of loot management during their expeditions. Adom had tested her subtly a few times—"accidentally" mixing in a few extra coins with her share, or "forgetting" to add certain items to the group's inventory. She'd always corrected these "mistakes," returning excess items without hesitation. But people could change. Especially when they saw this much money.

Adom looked up at her again as she stared at the vast amount of gold and other treasures. He sighed. He'd never seen her with that sort of expression before. Didn't even know she could make a face like that.

"This is your startup capital?" she finally asked, her voice oddly strained.

"Yup." Adom replied. Cass turned to him, blinking rapidly.

"How? There must be at least forty five billion gold here."

"Hold on." Adom squinted at her, momentarily distracted from his assessment of her character.

"Did you make that number up, or can you tell that just from a glance?"

"I have a talent," she said with a shrug.

"My father was a courier for the Silver League. I could tell approximately how much he'd brought in just by looking at the size of his pouch."

"Bullshit."

"It's true." Adom reached for his own coin pouch—"Twenty-three gold pieces, four silver, and one copper that's been worn down on one side," she said before he could even tell her to prove it. He blinked, opened the pouch, then counted slowly.

"Twenty-two gold, four silver, and..." he pulled out the copper piece, examining its edge. One side was indeed worn smooth.

"How did you—""I was one gold piece off," she said, frowning slightly.

"That's annoying."

"But the copper piece..."

"When you walk, it makes a different sound against the other coins. Higher pitch, uneven resonance. You've been carrying that same copper piece all afternoon. I hear it whenever you shift your weight." She pointed to his pocket.

"You keep it on the left side, so it hits against the gold rather than the silver." Zuni chirped in what sounded like amazement, and Adom found himself echoing the sentiment.

"Whoa."

"I know." Cass exhaled heavily, turning back to the mountain of treasure.

"You're thirteen," she finally said, barely above a whisper.

"We've established that," Adom replied.

"No, I mean—" Cass turned to him, gesturing at the treasure hoard.

"You're thirteen and you have approximately forty-five billion sitting in a cave. Just... sitting here."

"Is that really what it's worth?"

"Give or take a few million." She ran a hand through her hair.

"That's the kind of wealth a full-fledged guild with years of establishment accumulates." Her laugh was short, almost hysterical.

"You're the richest thirteen-year-old I know. Probably the richest person in Arkhos under fifty."

"So we have enough for the guild?" Adom asked, deliberately casual. Cass shot him a look.

"Enough? We have enough to start fifty guilds. Though I wouldn't recommend that." She walked to a nearby chest that was overflowing with jewels.

"Where did you find all this?"

"In the cave, like I said," Adom said.

"Hah!" She turned, hands on hips.

"You don't think the origin of your fortune might be relevant to our business plans?"

"I promise you I found it here, Cassandra. Why would I lie about that?" She studied him for a long moment, then shook her head.

"You're a strange kid, Adom. But I'm beginning to think that's not a bad thing." He watched her carefully as she began to move methodically around the treasure, making mental calculations. This was the real reason he'd brought her here. Not just to show her they had the capital, but to see how she would react to it. The wealth itself was a test.

"You know," she said, her back to him as she examined a collection of rare coins, "most people would be asking how much they could skim off the top without you noticing. Or plotting how to take it all."

"Are you most people?" She turned, expression serious.

"No. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thinking about what I could do with even a fraction of this."

"And?"

"And I'm thinking that seven percent of a legitimate, successful merchant guild will be worth more in the long run than anything I could stuff in my pockets today. Both in terms of money and in terms of not having to constantly look over my shoulder." Adom nodded. That was the answer he'd been hoping for.

"This," Cass continued, gesturing at the hoard, "is seed money. Impressive seed money, but still just the beginning. The real value isn't in what's here—it's in what we can build with it."

"Good." Cass tapped her chin thoughtfully, still absorbing the mountain of treasure.

"You know, legally speaking, you're required to declare this find to the Empire and pay the discovery tax," she said. Adom looked at her. She looked at him. They held each other's gaze for a long, silent moment.

"Come on, Cass." They both laughed at the thought, the sound echoing against the cave walls.

"Yes, terrible idea," Cass agreed, shaking her head.

"Officially, the Empire takes forty-five percent of discovered treasures. But what actually happens? The imperial officials show up, catalog everything, take almost all of it for 'war and expansion efforts,' and leave you with just enough gold to not work for a few weeks."

"And no way to dispute their accounting," Adom added.

"Exactly. You'd go from richest thirteen-year-old to slightly-better-than-average thirteen-year-old overnight." She kicked at a small pile of coins.

"Only a complete idiot would voluntarily hand this over." Adom watched Zuni try to stuff a gold coin into his mouth again. Why would he even do that?

"So what do we do? I've got the money, but I have no idea how to transform this into a legitimate business."

"That's where I come in." Cass began pacing.

"We need to launder this—not because it's illegal, but because 'I found it in a cave' isn't a satisfactory explanation for the House of Merchants registration committee."

"How do we do that?"

"Multiple steps. First, we physically move maybe five million to the Imperial Bank. That's enough to raise eyebrows, but not enough to trigger a full investigation. We say it's a gift from House Sylla to establish you in business."

"House Sylla will back that up."

"You better, or we're not getting far." Cass continued her methodical pacing.

"Second, we establish a small import business specializing in Therian luxury goods. Those have high markups and low volume, which means we can claim significant profits on relatively few transactions." Adom nodded, following her logic.

"And the third step?"

"We use that to buy the warehouse property you mentioned and register officially."

"Can we do all that in seven days?" Cass snorted.

"Seven days is tight, but doable. The real challenge is the sponsors." Adom had been thinking about that.

"I might have some options. Sam's father is in the House of Merchants—he'd sponsor us if Sam asks."

"That's one."

"I know Duke Lightbringer personally. He has connections with several established members."

"The Duke of Kati? How do you know—" Cass shook her head.

"Never mind. That could work for the second."

"And..." Adom smiled slightly.

"I think Mr. Biggins might be convinced to help."

"The weird stuff store? With the strange old man?" Cass asked.

"Precisely."

"How is he connected to the House of Merchants?"

"Just let me handle that part." Cass studied his face for a moment, then shrugged.

"Sure."

"Fine. That gives us three potential sponsors. One legitimate, one through noble connection, and one through... whatever your plan is with Biggins."

"Will it work?"

"It might, if we move fast." Cass's eyes narrowed in thought.

"We need to establish the initial bank deposit by tomorrow. By day two, we need articles of incorporation drawn up and at least one sponsor officially signed on. Then secure the property by day four, finalize the other sponsors by day five, and complete registration by day six." The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"That's cutting it close."

"Welcome to commerce." Cass gave him a thin smile.

"The House doesn't make it easy on purpose. They don't want new players unless they're serious." Adom scratched Zuni behind the ear spikes as the quillick returned to his side.

"So we'll need to move some of this today."

"Yes, but discreetly. We can't just walk into the Imperial Bank with sacks of gold. Too many questions." Cass surveyed the cave.

"Do you have a dimensional bag? Something inconspicuous but sturdy?"

"Yeah."

"We'll take about fifty thousand now. Enough to open the initial account without raising too many eyebrows. Then I'll come back with you later with proper containers for the larger transfer." Adom nodded.

"Smart."

"I've been dreaming about this kind of opportunity my whole life," Cass admitted, walking towards Adom.

"Just never thought it would come from a kid who showed up at my fruit stall a few weeks ago."

"Life is full of surprises."

"Apparently. So, Adom." Cass smiled.

"Shall we begin?" Adom looked at her for a moment. It was done now. The die was cast. He'd brought her into his plans, shown her his fortune, and put her in a position where she could either make his ventures soar or completely destroy them. There was no going back. Only forward, hoping he'd bet on the right person. No, it'll be alright. He thought. Fighting the little voice in his head that often made him overthink things. She is the right person.

"We shall." He finally said, smiling back at her.

After finalizing their plans, Adom and Cass walked back to the strider waiting patiently outside the cave entrance. The creature huffed at their approach, claws glinting in the late afternoon sun.

"Tomorrow," Cass said, climbing onto the cart behind Adom.

"Imperial Bank, first thing. I'll need to look respectable when I make the deposit in House Sylla's name."

"You'll manage," Adom said with a slight smile. The strider rider—a weathered man with skin like tanned leather—clicked his tongue, and the beast started its rhythmic stride back toward the city. As they rode, Cass leaned forward slightly.

"Do your parents even know about this? Using House Sylla's name isn't a small thing."

"I'll send a letter tonight," Adom replied, adjusting Zuni on his shoulder.

"They'll understand."

"You seem awfully confident about that." Adom shrugged.

"My parents and I have an... arrangement." After his regression—after they'd learned about the future he'd seen—his parents had committed to helping him in any way possible. He'd told them everything he could remember about a few minor events: the dungeon breaks that would occur near the western border around next month, the pirate attacks that would claim hundreds of lives in the southern isles, the unexpected famine that would hit the northern provinces after an early frost.

There would be a necromancer there, in the north, a few years from now. He appeared some time after the wars started and Dragon's Breath fell on the lands and his experiments had birthed the First Plague. The necromancer had seized the opportunity created by worldwide chaos, raising an army of the dead that marched relentlessly across the continent.

It wasn't just the fighting that killed millions—it was the disease that spread from the decomposing cadavers, animated by bound spirits and forced to walk among the living. The malady spread frivolously, jumping from village to city to kingdom. Millions died, only to rise again under his command. Adom wasn't certain what had finally stopped the necromancer's campaign of terror—whether it was the devastating Dragon's Breath attacks or the sudden rise of the World Dungeon that changed everything.

All he knew was that in the last decade of his past life, the necromancer's armies had vanished from the world stage. But by then, the damage had been done. Adom's father had started investigating the region before the rise of the mage who would do this, and had already prevented two minor events, quietly deploying Star Knights to troubled areas just before disaster struck. To most, it would seem like coincidence or excellent intelligence work. Only their family knew the truth.

"A guild established in their name would hardly be the strangest thing they've helped me with," Adom added.

"Someday," Cass said, "you'll have to tell me the full story."

"Someday," Adom agreed, knowing that day might never come. As they entered the city proper, Cass tapped Adom's shoulder.

"You can drop me at the edge of the Dregs." Adom turned.

"The Dregs? You live there?" She shrugged.

"Not for long if we do things right." When they reached the border between the merchant district and the Dregs, the strider rider slowed without being asked.

"Here is fine," Cass said, sliding off the cart. Adom watched as she straightened her clothes, suddenly seeing them in a new light. Not just practical, but probably all she could afford.

"I'll meet you at the cave entrance tomorrow," she said.

"Three sharp. Don't be late."

"I won't. And Cass—""Don't." She cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"I don't need your sympathy. Just your partnership." Her expression softened slightly.

"For what it's worth, Adom, I've lived in worse places. The Dregs aren't so bad if you know how to handle yourself." With that, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the warren of narrow streets and dilapidated buildings.

"Where to now, young sir?" the strider rider asked, clearly relieved they weren't venturing further into the Dregs. Adom opened his mouth to say "The Academy," but paused. The Dregs. The guild. Valiant. The thought connected instantly. Valiant lived somewhere nearby—not in the Dregs proper, but close enough. Close enough to know its rhythms and secrets. Valiant, who'd helped him multiple times already. Who knew people. Who could find things out. Adom frowned, suddenly aware of an oversight in his planning.

He'd been thinking about the spy network as a future endeavor—something to build once the guild was established, using trade routes as cover for his agents. But that assumed success. Assumed they'd get their seat. What if they failed because of something they didn't know? Some connection or rival plan they weren't aware of? The House of Merchants wasn't just a commercial body—it was a pit of vipers, each guild looking for advantages over the others. They'd need information now, not later.

Information about Crimson Scale. About House Vrentel's operations. Information that someone like Valiant might be able to acquire, or at least point him toward.

"Young sir?" The rider's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Where to?"

"Oh." Adom blinked, realizing he'd been staring at the spot where Cass had disappeared.

"Sorry. Just thinking."

"No worries," the man said, though his posture suggested he was eager to get moving. The sun was setting, and not many people wanted to be near the Dregs after dark. Adom made a quick decision.

"Actually, I'll get down here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold piece—far more than the ride was worth.

"For your trouble." The rider's eyebrows shot up, but he took the coin with a quick nod.

"Much appreciated, young sir." Adom slid off the strider, Zuni clinging to his shoulder. As the strider trotted away, he turned toward the Dregs, mentally mapping the route to Valiant's place. The Dregs smelled like wet laundry and sour beer. Adom moved quickly, Zuni still clinging to his shoulder like a bizarre fashion accessory. The quillick's head swiveled constantly, taking in the narrow streets and crumbling facades. This wasn't Adom's first trip to Valiant's place.

The mouse beastkin lived on the edge of the Dregs, where the buildings gradually transitioned from actively collapsing to might stand another decade. His home was surprisingly normal - a two-story stone and timber structure wedged between a tannery and what might have once been a bakery. Adom reached the door and knocked firmly. Three short raps - their usual signal. A moment passed. Then another. He heard movement inside - quick, light footsteps approaching.

Not from the main door, but from a smaller entrance near the bottom. Adom had initially thought it was some kind of drainage opening when he'd first visited, but it was actually Valiant's personal door. The mouse beastkin had installed it himself - "For convenience," he'd explained, "and quick exits." The small door swung open, and Valiant's head poked out. His whiskers twitched as he squinted up.

"Adom? What are you doing here?"

"Hi Valiant. Mind if I come in first?"

"Oh, sure-" Valiant's words cut off abruptly.

"Say, is that a quillick?" Zuni chirped curiously from Adom's shoulder, leaning forward to get a better look at the mouse beastkin. The quillick's ear spikes perked up, and he made a series of interested clicking sounds.

"Yes, he's a quillick. Can we come in now? Preferably before someone decides I look worth robbing?" Valiant was still staring at Zuni.

"Those things eat rodents, you know."

"He doesn't eat mice."

"His ancestors did!"

"Your ancestors ate bugs and seeds. Do you want me to judge you for that?" Valiant's whiskers twitched irritably.

"That's different."

"It really isn't. Now can we please come inside? I need to talk to you." The mouse beastkin hesitated for another moment, then sighed.

"Fine. But keep that thing away from me." He disappeared from the small door, and a few seconds later, the main door swung open. Valiant stood there, wearing what looked like a modified bathrobe with the sleeves and bottom hem shortened.

"Come in."

Valiant sat on his oversized kitchen chair, chin resting on his paws, eyes narrowed in concentration. Or at least what was supposed to look like concentration. Adom waited, watching the mouse beastkin's whiskers twitch every few seconds, a tell Adom had learned meant Valiant was stalling. The silence stretched. Adom took the opportunity to glance around the house again. The place never stopped confusing him. Everything was human-sized—the table, the chairs, the kitchen counters.

Even the bed upstairs was a full-sized human one. Which made absolutely no sense for someone Valiant's size. When Adom had asked about it once, the beastkin had simply shrugged and said, "I like to spread out." Right. Adom refocused on the reason he'd come. House Vrentel. The Crimson Scale Consortium. Information that could give them an edge in their bid for a seat in the House of Merchants.

"You can stop pretending to think really hard now," Adom said flatly. Valiant's eyes snapped open.

"I'm not pretending."

"Right."

"Your quillick is eating my almonds." Adom glanced over. Zuni had indeed discovered a bowl of almonds on a side table and was happily crunching through them one by one.

"You have plenty."

"Those are premium almonds. Imported."

"Valiant," Adom leaned forward, "cut to the chase. What's going on? You looked concerned the moment I asked about gathering information on House Vrentel." The mouse beastkin's whiskers drooped slightly. He sighed.

"Well, you see..."

"Oh no." Adom put his face in his hands.

"Please don't tell me you've already tried to spy on them and got caught. Or that you owe them money. Or that you accidentally burned down one of their warehouses."

"What? No! Nothing like that!" Valiant said, looking offended.

"It's just that I've kind of lost most of my information network in the past month and I don't exactly have the sources I used to have and the people who used to work for me have moved on to other opportunities not because they're traitors or anything but because that bastard Marco—who by the way we still haven't found—was basically running the whole structure under my uncle and when he disappeared a lot of the operation went with him and now I'm trying to rebuild but it's not easy when you're small and people don't take you seriously even though I've been in this business for years and—""Valiant!"

Adom cut him off.

"Breathe." The mouse beastkin inhaled deeply.

"So you have a money problem?" Adom asked.

"And structure! And logistics! And manpower!"

"But nothing that can't be solved with money, right?" Valiant's tail swished nervously against the chair.

"Not exactly," he said.

"In the Undertow, territory isn't bought. It's taken."

"What do you mean?" Valiant hopped down from his chair and paced the floor.

"Three key information brokers I worked with have been absorbed by street gangs in the past month. The Broken Fangs took my eyes in the harbor. The Nightshades control my contacts in the merchant quarter now. And the Red Hooks..." He shuddered.

"Let's just say they're not the diplomatic type."

"I still don't see why money can't fix this." Valiant stopped pacing and looked up at Adom.

"Because the Undertow has rules. You can't just buy territory back once it's been claimed. You have to win it through the Right of Contest."

"Which is?"

"A challenge. Your champion against theirs. No magic, no Fluid arts—just raw physical ability." Valiant's whiskers twitched.

"If they accept and your champion wins, you absorb their organization. Their assets, their people, their territory—everything comes under your control. We do that to avoid fucked up things like the Children Of The Moon with that all out war from last time."

"And if you lose?"

"Same thing happens to you." Valiant shrugged.

"It's why the gangs have been growing. The strong consume the weak." Adom leaned back in his chair, taking this in.

"You need a champion."

"I need three champions," Valiant corrected.

"One for each gang. And I need them soon if I'm going to help you get information on House Vrentel."

"How soon?" Valiant looked at him, then out the window at the darkening streets.

"Well, anytime really," he said, scratching behind his ear.

"We could go right now, issue challenges to whichever gangs we want. If they accept and we win, we get to keep their territory, their people, their resources—everything."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. The Undertow respects strength above all else. Win the right fights, and overnight you become a power player."

"So what's stopping you?" Valiant laughed nervously.

"Haven't you been listening? I need champions!" He gestured at himself.

"Look at me. I'd be squashed like a... well, like a mouse." Adom nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. Zuni chirped from the side table, having finished the almonds and now watching the conversation with a smile.

"I'll do it," Adom said. Valiant blinked.

"Do what?"

"I'll be your champion." Adom straightened in his chair.

"For all three fights." The mouse beastkin stared at him, whiskers frozen in shock. Then he burst out laughing.

"You?" he wheezed between laughs.

"You realize it doesn't count if you use magic or Fluid. Right?"

"I'm aware."

"No, you're not." Valiant's laughter died.

"You have no idea what these challenges are like. These aren't amateurs. Even Thormund tried challenging the Red Hooks last month and ended up with three broken ribs and his only arm nearly torn off. And he's a seasoned brawler! The champions are chosen specifically for their brutality. The Broken Fangs' champion is an ogre who eats the hearts of his opponents. The Nightshades have a beastkin panther who's killed twenty men with her bare hands. And the Red Hooks..." He shook his head.

"Their champion is just called the Butcher. That should tell you enough." Adom shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. I'll fight them." Valiant fell silent, his mouth still open, eyes darting between Adom and Zuni. The quillick was still perched on the side table, looking at them with that permanent, slightly idiotic grin on its face.

"You," Valiant pointed at Zuni accusingly, "please tell me I'm being the reasonable one here? This kid, without his fancy mage powers, is just a regular thirteen-year-old who's going to get absolutely crushed. These people don't play games. They don't pull punches. They kill for sport and respect only the strong." Zuni kept smiling, head tilted slightly.

"Are you even listening to me?!" Valiant slurred in frustration, throwing his paws up. Adom stood up slowly, brushing crumbs from his trousers.

"I thought you'd think higher of me after the dungeon episode."

"Adom, I like you. That's precisely why I'm trying not to let you get yourself killed!" Without responding, Adom walked over to the far corner of the room where a heavy oak bookcase stood, filled with leather-bound tomes and scrolls. Did Valiant actually read all that? Impossible. He placed his hands on one side, and with a single fluid motion, lifted the entire bookcase off the ground.

"Take me to them, Valiant," Adom said calmly, the massive piece of furniture held easily above his head.

"I'll be your champion."

"That—that was magic, wasn't it? I told you, no magic is allowed in the challenges!"

"It's not magic," Adom said, carefully setting the bookcase back down.

"Bullshit!" Valiant squeaked.

"Complete and utter rodent droppings!"

"You said you could smell my mana signature, right?"

"Yeah, of course I can. All mouse beastkin with enhanced senses can detect—""Then did you smell anything just now?" Adom asked, arms crossed. Valiant froze, his nose twitching rapidly as he sniffed the air. His eyes gradually widened until they seemed about to pop out of his small head.

"Holy fu—"