Season 2 chapter 21
The Century Waiver
The heavy ironwood doors of the boardroom clicked shut, sealing them inside with the Arvonian Energy Minister. The Minister didn't waste time with drinks or pleasantries. He opened a massive, leather-bound ledger on the table.
"Mr. Malesh," the Minister began, his deep voice echoing across the room. "Arvonia is a machine. We manufacture the ships, the trains, and the heavy artillery for half the known world. But our diesel reserves are running dry, and the aristocratic energy cartels in the east are trying to bleed us with their tariffs. We want your cheap crude oil flowing directly into our ports."
Malesh sat perfectly still, his hands folded on the table. "My supply lines are currently optimizing the DI domestic grid. Rerouting millions of barrels across the ocean requires immense capital incentive. What are you offering?"
The Minister slid a heavy parchment document across the table. "A one-hundred-year corporate tax waiver. Complete federal immunity from Arvonian import duties for a full century."
For a fraction of a second, Malesh's eyes slightly widened. A one-hundred-year tax waiver in a manufacturing superpower was unheard of. It was literally trillions of credits in saved capital over a lifetime.
But Malesh's face instantly smoothed back into a robotic, deadpan mask. He didn't reach for the paper.
"There must be a catch," Malesh stated coldly. "No government surrenders a century of tax revenue unless they are desperate, or unless the operational cost is shifted entirely onto the contractor."
"You are as sharp as your reputation suggests," the Minister admitted, a grim smile touching his scarred face. "Here is the catch. You are not just shipping us crude. You are going to process it here. You will establish four hundred high-capacity refineries on Arvonian soil within the next five years."
Malesh's mind immediately began crunching the astronomical logistics of building four hundred massive industrial refineries.
"To facilitate this," the Minister continued, "the Arvonian government will provide the land grants for free. We will subsidize the housing facilities for your workers, and we will connect your sites directly to our national steam-grid and water supplies. You build the refineries, you bring the oil, and we give you the infrastructure to do it."
Malesh stared at the Minister, the gears in his head spinning. It was a terrifyingly lucrative deal.
Kniya, who had been leaning back in his chair chewing a piece of mint gum, suddenly sat forward. He placed his hands on the table, looking directly at the Minister.
"That's a cute oil deal," Kniya interrupted, his voice dripping with arrogant confidence. "But why the fuck am I here? Kavilson Steel doesn't pump gas. If you just wanted his crude, you wouldn't have flown me sixty-four hours across the ocean."
The Minister turned his stern gaze to Kniya. "Because, Mr. Kniya, you cannot build four hundred refineries out of thin air. And Arvonia's domestic foundries are currently backlogged for the next decade. We want to sign a secondary sovereign pact with Kavilson Steel."
The Minister slid a second dossier across the table.
"Eighteen untouched, sovereign-owned iron mines in the northern Arvonian mountains," the Minister stated. "Geological surveys confirm massive, ultra-dense veins of pure Magnetite and high-grade Hematite. The highest quality iron ore on the planet. We will sell you the deeds to all eighteen mines for five hundred million credits."
Kniya looked at the dossier, then scoffed, leaning back again. "Five hundred million? Up front? Where is the fucking profit for me? I'm a businessman, Minister, not a foreign charity. I'm not buying your dirt just so Malesh can build his refineries."
"The profit," the Minister countered, "is that we will extend the same tax waivers and logistical subsidies to Kavilson Steel. You will be required to establish fifty state-of-the-art steel factories and a fully integrated warehouse rail-system across our country. You will own the raw Magnetite, you will forge the steel, and you will sell it directly to our military without paying a single credit in taxes."
The Haggling
The room went dead silent. The deals sitting on the table were monumental. They were the keys to a global empire.
But neither Kniya nor Malesh reached for the pens. They hadn't survived the cutthroat streets of Seistain by jumping at the first number thrown at them.
Kniya slowly popped a mint bubble. Snap. "Four hundred million," Kniya said, his voice dropping its arrogant tone, replaced by absolute, cold-blooded authority. "I am not paying half a billion credits for unexcavated rock. I'll give you four hundred million for the eighteen mines, or you can go back to buying your steel from the aristocratic foundries you hate so much."
The Minister frowned, his jaw tightening. "Four hundred and fifty. The Hematite alone is worth—"
"Four hundred," Kniya interrupted ruthlessly. "And you cover the shipping costs for my SuliBulli heavy machinery to cross the ocean. That's my final offer. Take it, or I walk out of here right now and find a bar."
The Minister stared at Kniya for a long, tense moment. Finally, he gave a curt nod. "Agreed. Four hundred million."
Malesh immediately capitalized on the broken tension.
"Three hundred and fifty refineries," Malesh stated, adjusting his glasses. "Four hundred facilities overextends my current logistical fleet by twelve point four percent. I will commit to three hundred and fifty refineries, provided the land grants are fully centralized near the coastal ports."
"We need four hundred to meet our continental expansion quotas, Mr. Malesh," the Minister argued.
"Then you will have to refine the remaining deficit yourselves," Malesh replied, his face completely devoid of emotion. "Three hundred and fifty. Or Kavilson Steel does not build the fifty factories required to supply your military."
The Minister looked between the two of them. They were a perfectly synchronized, ruthless unit. He sighed, opening his silver fountain pen.
"Three hundred and fifty," the Minister conceded. "The Arvonian Senate accepts your terms."
The Four-Billion Credit Curveball
Kniya pulled out his own solid gold pen. He skimmed the heavily modified contracts, signed his name with a vicious flourish on the Kavilson Steel pact, and stood up. He stretched his back, his joints popping loudly in the quiet room.
"Pleasure doing business, Minister," Kniya smirked, buttoning his tailored jacket. "I'm going to go find out what Arvonian industrial black coffee tastes like. Don't bore my partner to death."
Kniya turned and confidently walked out of the massive ironwood doors, leaving them slightly ajar.
Malesh reached for his pen to sign the Malesh Energy Limited contract, but before the nib could touch the parchment, the Minister placed a heavy hand over the document.
Malesh looked up, his eyes narrowing. "Is there a problem?"
"No," the Minister said quietly. He reached under the table and pulled out a separate, highly classified black folder, sealed with a specialized military lock. He unlocked it and slid it toward Malesh. "But the Senate authorized me to offer you a secondary, entirely separate proposition. One that Mr. Kniya's heavy industry is not suited for."
Malesh opened the black folder. His eyes scanned the highly classified geological reports.
"Rare Earth Minerals," the Minister whispered, leaning forward. "Deep excavation. Highly volatile chemical processing. We have discovered massive deposits beneath the southern deserts, but we lack the advanced chemical engineering to refine it safely. We know your energy corporation handles extreme biological and chemical agents."
Malesh stared at the chemical breakdowns on the page.
"The Senate is offering an exclusive, shadow-contract to Malesh Energy Limited for the extraction and processing of these minerals," the Minister stated. "The initial payout is four billion credits."
Malesh stopped breathing for a fraction of a second. Four billion credits. It was an unfathomable amount of liquid capital. It was enough money to buy a small country.
"I will leave you to review the specifications," the Minister said, standing up and buttoning his uniform. "Take your time, Mr. Malesh."
The Minister quietly exited the room, the heavy doors shutting behind him with a final, echoing thud.
Malesh sat completely alone in the massive, dimly lit boardroom. The regular oil contract was sitting right next to him. But his eyes were glued to the black folder. Four billion credits. Deep excavation. Volatile chemistry.
He slowly pulled out his pocket watch. The rhythmic tick-tick-tick echoed in the silence as Malesh Energy Limited stood on the precipice of becoming the most dangerous corporation on Earth.
The 12-Hour Marathon
He didn't leave after an hour. He didn't leave after four. As the massive brass grandfather clock in the corner ticked away, Malesh sank into a state of absolute, obsessive hyper-focus. The chemical formulas, the deep-earth excavation risks, the logistical nightmares of processing rare earth metals—it was a labyrinth of volatile variables.
At hour six, a pair of Arvonian guards quietly entered the boardroom, setting down a pitcher of fresh water and a plate of roasted meat and vegetables. Malesh didn't even look up. He didn't touch a single drop of water or a single bite of food.
His fountain pen scratched furiously across his personal ledger. He was analyzing the sheer complexity of the Arvonian chemical requirements, mapping out every single failure point, every explosion risk, every profit margin. Hour eight passed. Hour ten.
Finally, after exactly twelve hours of grueling, uninterrupted mental calculations, the morning light began to filter through the heavy boardroom curtains. Malesh set his pen down. His hand was cramped, and his eyes burned from the lack of sleep, but the math was flawless.
He pressed the brass call-button on the table. Minutes later, the Energy Minister returned, looking genuinely surprised that Malesh was still sitting in the exact same position.
"I will accept the contract," Malesh stated, his voice raspy from twelve hours of silence. "However, I require two minor amendments. First, the Arvonian military will be solely responsible for the physical transportation of the hazardous chemical slag; I will not risk my own rail lines. Second, Malesh Energy Limited retains exclusive ownership of any synthetic chemical byproducts generated during the refining process."
The Minister considered the minor changes for a moment, then nodded. "Acceptable terms. The Senate agrees."
Malesh signed the black document, closed the folder, and finally stood up. His body was stiff, but he had just secured four billion credits.