"Good day, how may I help you?" the receptionist at the Royal Bank inquired as she took note of the family crest on Mograine's uniform.
"I would like a loan to start a business. I have brought a patent and also have a plan in mind," replied Valtherion, as he took note of the woman's grin. It was hard for him to be taken seriously when he was so young, it seemed.
"How much gold would you like to loan?" Taking a notepad, she began writing. Valtherion was not the first young heir to do that; a lot of them had come here for loans, loans that they were not able to pay and, in turn, cause a disaster for their families. The Royal Bank, as stated, was one owned by the Royals themselves, and thus, acquisition was far easier; thus, they gave loans with a light heart.
"Two million," stated Valtherion, watching her grin disappear, as she said that a higher-up would be needed for this to be approved.
'Who's smiling now?'
It took quite some time, probably around ten minutes, before he and Albert were led towards a room on the second floor of the building. Drinks and food were served to them, and guards soon took their positions inside the room. What made Valtherion lift a brow was the fact that they had his butler sit a few meters away from him, on a separate table.
'Are they trying to make it uncomfortable for me? Albert will not be able to provide me any advice.'
Albert nodded toward him with a subtle, helpless look — you're on your own.
A young lady entered soon after, escorted by several attendants. She wore a blue dress, carried a monocle and a stack of documents, and moved with the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to authority.
Albert rose instantly, bending into a precise ninety‑degree bow. Valtherion stood as well, offering the lighter bow expected of nobles. This was proper etiquette — servants bowed deeply to royalty, while nobles showed respect without submission.
"Princess Juliet, third daughter of Emperor Alexander Salerios, has entered the room," one of her guards announced, prompting everyone to bow.
Princess Juliet stood at 1.74 meters, her posture straight and composed. Her black hair fell neatly to her shoulders, framing a calm, intelligent expression. She wore a deep blue mana‑silk dress, simple yet unmistakably royal — silver embroidery traced the cuffs and neckline, and the skirt flowed smoothly with each step. A small gold‑framed monocle rested over her right eye, sharpening her already authoritative presence without diminishing her elegance.
'Why the fuck is a royalty here?' Valtherion was feeling stressed; there was no reason for a royalty to be present. Two million was enough to raise an army, but at the same time not enough for a royalty to be involved. His surprise soon faded away, because as a noble he had to learn about the princes and princesses of the royal family. Princess Juliet had refused to marry and instead worked in Finance, proving to her father that she was more than a bargaining chip. Soon, she walked towards him.
"Your Highness," he nodded towards her, watched her take a seat first, and then he followed.
"Valtherion Mograine. No need to be so tense. If you wanted money to squander, I would have given you a hundred thousand coins without a second thought. But a request for two million caused quite the stir. I decided to personally review it."
Juliet settled into her seat with practised grace, lifting her cup and sipping as she regarded him — her posture, her tone, and her presence all crafted to remind him exactly who she was.
This is amusing… She'll approve the loan regardless, even if my business idea isn't worth a fart. Then she'll devour me with interest. Cruel, yes — but likely desperate to carve out freedom from her father's grip.
Smiling, Valtherion took a sip from his cup and carefully measured his words. He drew out his patent with steady hands and spoke with calm confidence.
"Your Highness, if you would allow me. I have developed a product that can revolutionise several industries. It is called a pellet, and it has the potential to replace wood as fuel. It is smaller, burns longer, produces more heat, and its materials are inexpensive. The military sector would benefit the most.
I intend to begin mass producing it and then send a bag to every noble in the north, as winter will soon reach its peak. The same distribution could be extended to heat‑reliant industries here in the capital. Thus, the need for 2 million gold coins.
Naturally, the product is already legalised, and I have brought the patent with me. Please take a look, Your Highness."
He placed the patent before her with a graceful motion, then withdrew his hand and observed her quietly as she studied him for a moment before taking the document with practised elegance.
Juliet turned another page, her smile sharpening as she read. When she finally looked up, her eyes held that same amused, predatory glint — the kind that made Valtherion feel as though he had stepped willingly into a trap.
"An impressive invention," she said softly. "Simple, efficient, profitable. And you already secured the patent… how diligent."
She set the document down with deliberate care, tapping it once with her finger.
"Tell me, Valtherion Mograine… have you considered selling it?"
Her tone was light, almost playful, but the weight behind the words was unmistakable. She leaned forward slightly, the monocle catching the light.
"I could purchase the patent outright. The Empire would adopt pellets immediately, and you would receive a… generous sum. Far more than two million." Her smile deepened. "You would be free of risk, free of competition, free of responsibility. A very comfortable arrangement."
She paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him sweat.
"Of course," she added, voice dipping into something velvety and dangerous, "if you refuse, I will still approve your loan. But you should understand that once your product spreads, every noble, every merchant, and every military officer will come knocking. And they will not be as gentle as I am."
Her eyes locked onto his — amused, predatory, and certain of her power.
"So… will you sell it?"
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'Indeed...I will not be able to hold it for long. Relying on my father or Duke Garcia would be a bad idea; neither do I wish for my name to stand out for so long. Hmm...Selling the patent, however, would checkmate me; the profit would be far below. Should I request a business partnership or...should I head to a different bank for that? Maybe, taking a step back and sending a letter to grandpa or my father...yet I do not wish to rely on them.'
Valtherion was thinking; a few minutes had already passed under Princess Juliet's gaze, who seemed relaxed. She had all the time, and she did not mind letting the young man think, confident that she had checkmated him.
'Sigh, this young lady will eat me up. I cannot ask for a loan anymore; I cannot remain passive...'
Clearing his throat, Valtherion began speaking.
Clearing his throat, Valtherion began speaking.
"Your Highness… selling the patent would cripple my invention before it even breathes. But a partnership — one where the Royal Bank handles distribution across the Empire — would allow pellets to spread far faster than I ever could alone."
He paused just long enough to let the words settle.
"I chose the Royal Bank first out of respect. But there are other banks… and my family has resources as well. I simply prefer not to rely on them."
Juliet's expression froze for a heartbeat — not in anger, but in amused surprise. He had actually dared to propose a partnership, and worse, hint at alternatives. It was now her turn to remain silent, to think, to reassess the young Mograine who had just placed a subtle blade on the negotiation table.
Then she smiled — slow, amused, predatory.
"…A partnership." She leaned back, monocle glinting. "How unexpected. You are quite bold, young Mograine, to request a partnership with the Royal Bank. How amusing."
She tapped the table lightly, her tone shifting.
"Very well. If you want a partnership, I will offer you eighty percent for the Empire, twenty for yourself."
Valtherion rejected it immediately, his voice steady.
"Your Highness, with respect… pellets are my creation. My patent. My production. If the Empire takes eighty percent, the product becomes yours in all but name."
He let the silence breathe before continuing.
"That is not a partnership. That is a transfer of ownership."
Juliet's eyes narrowed, intrigued — and before she could speak, Valtherion continued.