The Imperial Throne Room was a stage, and Emperor Aldric III was performing his final act.
Thousands of miles away, in the comfort of their homes, millions of citizens watched on their VayneComs. The Emperor stood tall, his golden armor gleaming under the magi-lights, addressing the camera crews I had graciously allowed into the palace.
"Citizens of the Empire," Aldric's voice boomed, though it lacked its usual thunder. "The rumors of my ill health are... treasonous exaggerations. The Green Fog has been cured. The Leviathan has been slain. The Empire stands eternal."
He raised a fist to emphasize his strength.
Then, he froze.
His eyes went wide, filled with a sudden, terrible confusion.
Cough.
It started as a wheeze. Then a hack. Then, a convulsion that doubled him over.
"Your Majesty!" A Royal Guard stepped forward.
Aldric tried to wave him away, but his mouth opened, and it wasn't words that came out. It was sludge. Thick, viscous, obsidian-black sludge that hissed as it hit the marble floor.
It wasn't the Green Fog. It was raw, concentrated Void Corruption.
The camera didn't cut away fast enough.
Millions of people saw their Emperor collapse, vomiting darkness, his golden armor stained with the rot of his own soul. Screams erupted in the throne room.
Then, the feed cut to static.
Location: Vayne City War Room
I sat in my chair, watching the analytics monitor on the main wall.
The graph representing "Network Traffic" didn't just spike; it went vertical.
"Total views: 12 million," Seraphina read from her tablet, her face pale. "Trending topics: #EmperorDead, #VoidPoison, #CivilWar."
"The King is down," I murmured, taking a sip of water. "Long live the algorithm."
"Lucas, the markets are crashing," Seraphina warned. "The Imperial Bond is down 60% in ten minutes. The price of grain has doubled. People are panic-buying."
"Good," I said. "What about steel?"
"Tripled."
"Excellent. Dump our surplus steel stock now. We buy it back when the panic stabilizes in the morning."
I looked at the map. The Empire was a powder keg, and the Emperor's collapse was the match. Now, I just had to wait for someone to fan the flames.
I didn't have to wait long.
A notification pinged on the main screen.
[Breaking News: Broadcast from the Northern Legion.]
Prince Valerian, the First Prince, appeared on the screen. He was already in full battle armor, standing in front of a legion of twenty thousand soldiers.
"My father has not fallen to illness!" Valerian shouted into his VayneCom, his voice shaking with manufactured righteous fury. "He has been poisoned! The Church and the Second Prince have conspired to seize the throne with dark magic!"
He drew his sword—a massive greatsword I had sold him last month.
"I march on the capital to save him! I march to purge the traitors! Ironwall Fortress stands in my way. By dawn, it will fall!"
The feed cut.
"He didn't waste a second," Seraphina noted. "He didn't even mourn."
"He's a pragmatist," I said. "And he's a customer."
RING-RING.
The red phone on my desk rang. The line reserved for High-Priority Military Clients.
I picked it up.
"Vayne!" Prince Valerian's voice roared over the sound of marching boots. "You saw the broadcast?"
"I did, Your Highness. Very theatrical."
"Spare me the commentary. I'm at Fortress Ironwall. The loyalist dogs won't open the gates. I need to breach the walls before the Second Prince mobilizes his Paladins. I need those Siege Breaker Cannons you showed me at the expo. The ones that shoot concentrated plasma."
"The 'Hellfire' series," I corrected. "Excellent choice. They can melt stone in seconds. But they are expensive, Prince. And shipping to a combat zone incurs a hazard fee."
"I don't care! Send them via the express rail! I'll pay double!"
"Pleasure doing business."
I hung up.
RING-RING.
The blue phone on my desk rang. The line reserved for Imperial Defense.
I picked it up.
"Baron Vayne!" The voice was frantic. It was Commander Krell of Fortress Ironwall. "We are under attack! The Northern Legion is marching on us! They have heavy artillery!"
"I am aware of the situation, Commander."
"Our walls won't hold against modern magic! We need support! We need those Aegis Shield Generators Vayne Corp produces! The ones that can withstand plasma bombardment!"
I looked at Seraphina. She raised an eyebrow.
"The Aegis Generators are currently in stock, Commander," I said smoothy. "I can have a drone fleet air-drop them into your courtyard within the hour. But the rush delivery charge is steep."
"Just send them! Or there won't be a fortress left to pay you!"
"Dispatching now."
I hung up.
Seraphina stared at me. "Boss... you just sold the cannons to the attacker, and the shields to the defender. In the same battle."
"It's a balanced ecosystem, Seraphina," I said, turning back to the map. "Route the cannons to the Prince via the mag-lev line. Launch the drone fleet with the shields to the fortress."
I leaned back, watching the two icons—a red sword and a blue shield—move toward each other on the map.
"I get paid when they fire. I get paid when they block. Why pick a side when you can own the battlefield?"
Time: 02:00 Hours Location: Fortress Ironwall
Night had fallen, but the sky was bright as day.
From the northern ridge, Prince Valerian's artillery line opened fire.
THOOM. THOOM. THOOM.
Massive bolts of unstable blue plasma—fired from Vayne Corp Hellfire Cannons—arced through the sky, screaming like banshees.
They slammed into the ancient stone walls of the fortress.
But the walls didn't break.
A shimmering, honeycomb dome of golden light flared into existence. The Aegis Shield Generators hummed with power, absorbing the impact of the plasma.
BOOM.
The collision of energies lit up the horizon. It was a spectacular light show.
Inside the War Room, I watched the livestream from a hovering drone.
"Shield integrity at 80%," Seraphina reported. "Cannon heat levels rising."
"They're burning through ammo at a rate of 5,000 gold per minute," I calculated, watching the explosions. "Excellent."
The battle raged for hours. The cannons pounded the shields. The shields drained the fortress's mana reserves.
Soldiers died on both sides, their armor pierced by Vayne Corp munitions, their last breaths captured on Vayne Corp devices.
It was a stalemate. A perfect, profitable stalemate.
"Valerian is ordering a second shipment of power cells," Seraphina noted. "And the Fortress Commander just put in a requisition for emergency coolant."
"Approve both," I said. "And offer the Commander a discount on our new Auto-Doc medical droids. He's going to need them."
Location: The Imperial Medical Ward
Far from the noise of the cannons, in the sterile silence of the Royal Ward, a man opened his eyes.
Emperor Aldric woke from his coma for a brief, lucid moment.
The pain in his chest was agonizing. The Void sludge coated his throat.
He turned his head weakly. A nurse was asleep in the chair next to him. In her hand, her VayneCom was glowing.
The screen showed the live news feed.
[LIVE: Civil War Erupts! Northern Legion battles Loyalists at Ironwall!]
The Emperor watched as blue fire smashed into golden shields. He recognized the weapons. He recognized the logo stamped on the side of the cannons.
A stylized V.
Tears leaked from the Emperor's eyes.
He looked at his sons destroying his kingdom. He looked at the technology that allowed the world to watch it happen.
And he realized, with a final, crushing clarity, that he wasn't the King anymore.
He was just a customer.
"Vayne..." he wheezed, the darkness reclaiming his vision. "You... devil..."
The monitor beeped steadily as he slipped back into the dark.
Location: Vayne City
The sun began to rise over my city. The battle at Ironwall was still raging, consuming gold and lives in equal measure.
A system notification flashed in my vision, brighter than the dawn.
[ Achievement Unlocked: War Profiteer. ]
[ Criteria: Sold lethal aid to opposing factions in the same conflict. ]
[ Effect: Your moral compass is broken, but your bank account is fixed. ]
[ Reward: +5,000 Gold/Hour Passive Income during wartime. ]
I dismissed the notification.
"Seraphina," I called out, stifling a yawn. "The First Prince and the Fortress Commander will be exhausted by noon. Draft a peace treaty proposal."
"You want to stop the war?"
"No," I smiled. "I want to host the peace talks. We charge for the venue, the catering, and the arbitration."
I looked at the smoking horizon on the screen.
"This is just the first domino, Seraphina. Wait until the Church gets involved."