The courier did not knock. He arrived in a gilded carriage, flanked by Royal Guards, and presented the envelope on a velvet pillow.
The invitation inside was made of solid gold, etched with diamonds.
"Her Imperial Highness, Princess Isabella, requests the honor of your presence at the Winter Masquerade."
I turned the heavy card over in my hand.
"The Third Faction finally makes a move," I said, tossing the gold card onto my desk with a heavy thud. "And just in time. The First Prince is bankrupt, and the Second Prince is a zealot. Isabella is the only one left with any liquidity."
"It's a trap, obviously," Seraphina noted, looking at the invitation. "The Crystal Palace is a 'Neutral Zone,' but neutrality is just a polite word for a kill box."
"It's not a trap," I corrected, standing up. "It's a merger negotiation."
I walked to the wardrobe.
"Nero, suit up. We're going to a party."
Location: The Crystal Palace
The Crystal Palace was a monstrosity of glass and magic, suspended above the capital by ancient levitation spells.
Outside, in the lower districts, the common people were freezing in the dark, huddled around burning trash cans due to the energy crisis I had engineered.
Inside the palace, it was a different world.
Crystal chandeliers dripped with light. Fountains flowed with wine. The air was perfumed and heated to a balmy summer temperature.
I stepped out of the Vayne-1 Interceptor, dressed in a tuxedo woven from Shadow-Silk—a material that looked like midnight and stopped a dagger like plate armor. Nero walked behind me, not as a bodyguard, but as my shadow, literally blending into the floor.
I looked at the nobles laughing, drinking, and ignoring the apocalypse outside.
"I sell weapons to destroy this world," I muttered, taking a glass of champagne from a passing servant. "She throws parties to ignore it."
"Baron Vayne," a voice cut through the music.
I turned.
Princess Isabella stood at the top of the grand staircase. She was stunning. She wore a gown of crimson velvet that trailed behind her like a river of blood. Her mask was platinum, covering only her eyes, highlighting a smile that was sharp enough to cut glass.
She wasn't a brute like her brother Valerian. She wasn't a fanatic like Lysander.
She was a shark in silk.
"Your Highness," I bowed slightly—just enough to be polite, not enough to be subservient.
"Walk with me, Lucas," she commanded, offering her arm. "The air in here is stifling. Too much perfume masking the scent of desperation."
Location: The Royal Balcony
We stepped out onto the balcony, overlooking the darkened capital below. The wind was cold, but the magical heat-lamps kept us warm.
"You've been busy," Isabella said, leaning against the marble railing. "Addicting my brother's army. Humiliating the Church. Turning the power off on the peasantry."
"I call it market disruption," I replied, sipping my drink.
"You're a chaos agent, Lucas. But chaos is bad for business in the long run. Eventually, the board flips."
She turned to face me, her eyes locking onto mine.
"I have a proposal. A Merger."
"I'm listening."
"Marry me," she said.
She didn't blush. She didn't hesitate. It was a business offer.
"Combine Vayne Corp's infinite wealth with the Imperial Legitimacy. My brothers are idiots. Valerian will burn the empire to rule the ashes. Lysander will turn it into a monastery. But us? We could rule it."
She stepped closer, her hand resting on my chest.
"I provide the Crown. You provide the Gold. We crush them both."
I looked at her. It was a tempting offer. A fast-track to the throne.
"Marriage is a high-risk contract with terrible termination fees," I said smoothly, removing her hand from my lapel. "I prefer a limited liability partnership."
Isabella's smile didn't waver, but her eyes went cold.
"I wasn't asking, Lucas."
She snapped her fingers.
Click-Click.
The doors to the balcony locked. From the shadows of the roof, a dozen Royal Guards—Elite Archers—appeared, their bows drawn and aimed at my heart.
"I hold the Imperial Seal," Isabella said, her voice dropping the seductive act. "I can legally nationalize your company tomorrow. I can declare Vayne Corp a threat to national security and seize your assets. Your factories, your gold, your little shadow demon... all mine."
She tilted her head.
"So, let's try this again. Will you be my husband? Or will you be my prisoner?"
I looked at the archers. Then I looked at her.
And I laughed.
It wasn't a nervous laugh. It was the laugh of a man watching a toddler try to rob a bank with a crayon.
"Nationalize me?" I asked, pulling a small black ledger from my tuxedo pocket. "Isabella, you haven't looked at the books lately, have you?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The Empire is insolvent," I said, flipping the pages. "Your father spent the treasury on the Leviathan war. Your brothers drained the rest."
I turned the book to face her.
"Do you know who has been buying the Imperial War Bonds for the last six months?"
Isabella looked at the ledger. Her face went pale.
[Holder: Shell Company Alpha (Vayne Corp)] [Holder: Shell Company Beta (Vayne Corp)] [Holder: The Vayne Trust]
"I own 80% of the Imperial Debt," I explained calmly. "I am the creditor for the entire nation."
I stepped closer to her, ignoring the archers.
"If you try to seize my assets, I will declare a default. I will dump the bonds onto the open market. The Imperial Currency will become worthless in seconds. A loaf of bread will cost a wheelbarrow of gold."
I gestured to the guards on the roof.
"Do you think those men will protect you if their salaries are paid in worthless paper? Do you think they'll shoot me when I'm the only one who can sign their paychecks?"
Isabella stood frozen. She realized she was holding a grenade, and I was holding the pin.
"You... you trapped us," she whispered. "You bought the country while we were fighting over the crown."
"It's called the Sovereign Debt Trap," I smiled. "Checkmate, Princess."
CRACK.
Suddenly, the air split.
A bullet—a magically accelerated sniper round—tore through the silence, aimed directly between Isabella's eyes.
It wasn't from her guards. It was from the darkness beyond the palace. Kaelen.
Isabella didn't even see it coming.
PING.
I didn't move my feet. I simply raised my hand.
A hexagonal Mana-Shield flickered into existence inches from her face. The bullet slammed into the barrier, flattened into a coin of lead, and fell onto the balcony floor with a metallic clink.
Isabella stared at the bullet, then at me. She was trembling.
"Why?" she breathed. "You could have let me die. You could have taken the throne."
"Because I haven't been paid yet," I said, adjusting my cufflinks.
I looked out into the dark city where the assassin was hiding. I decided when she fell, not Kaelen.
"The offer to marry is declined," I said, turning to the locked doors. Nero materialized and kicked them open, shattering the lock.
I paused in the doorway and looked back at the terrified Princess.
"But I will sponsor your coronation. In exchange for a 10% royalty on all future tax revenue."
I tossed the invitation card back to her.
"Draft the papers. I expect them on my desk by morning."
[ System Notification: Political Victory. ]
[ The Third Faction is now a Puppet State. ]
[ Achievement Unlocked: The Kingmaker. ]
I walked back into the party, leaving the Princess alone on the balcony with the realization that she wasn't a player in the game anymore.
She was just an employee.