“This is the place,” Anne Claire said, stopping at a black iron gate. She leaned on her cane to peer inside.

Willem looked beyond the bars, eyes darting around an ostentatious—if unmaintained—three-story mansion. It had a rather unique color palette, the walls being a pleasant white while the tiled roof was a blue so deep and rich it might be misconstrued for gray. In terms of the real estate they’d seen so far in their tour around the city of Gent, it was certainly one of the most impressive ones. Furthermore, the backyard had a wonderful unobstructed view of the port.

“Bit large,” Willem said at once, gesturing at Dirk. “If you’ve noticed, I only brought this one guy along with me. I don’t intend on hiring more people. Not for homecare, at least.”

“My late husband built this for us,” the countess continued, fitting a key into the gate. She fiddled with it a bit before the key took, as the gate was evidently out of use. “He named this estate Diamant. It was intended to be a summer palace. He intended us to enjoy the cooling sea breeze in the hottest months of the year.”

Willem and Dirk followed after her, indulging her story. He expected there to be some point out of all this.

“We’d some good years inside. When he died, it passed to me.” Anne Claire shut the gate behind them, locking it once more. “His brother fought tooth and nail in the courts with me to dispute that. The whole ordeal ruined the funeral, divided the family. My husband was many things, but ‘prepared’ was not one of them. He never had a will written.” She clenched her cane tightly in hand. “After all that fighting to keep it, I didn’t even want to come back here.”

“Such a shame there wasn’t a Society of Assured Prosperity yet,” Willem shilled. “We could’ve been the wedge you needed to nag your husband into writing that will.”

Anne Claire laughed with a touch of sadness. “Yes, that’s what I thought. I was restless come night—kept thinking about what you’d need to make your so-called mutual-aid society a success. And, well… come on.”

Willem and Dirk followed her into the once-grand estate of Diamant. The elaborate yard had mostly died away, leaving only grass and twigs behind. He saw entire sections blocked by fallen trees—perhaps, once, gardens and orchards had risen here. It was still within the city walls, so it couldn’t be too large, but as a personal residence it seemed to have nearly every amenity.

The building and its granite pathways, however, all stayed intact. That spoke to the quality of their construction. Willem never liked real estate as an investment. It cost a great deal to maintain, and the return was often inferior to other things. On top of all that, it received very poor tax treatment. Perhaps things were different in this place, where landholders generally made all the rules. He’d need to look into it, of course.

“Diamant had everything our palace back there did.” Anne Claire briefly stopped to look at the count’s residence overlooking the city of Gent. “It had a bathhouse with hot water, a ballroom, an archive and library, an art collection, a chapel, and apartments enough to accommodate a hundred guests. And the garden… twenty masters maintained it. It wasn’t quite as decadent and luxurious as the villas in the capital, but it was our own little slice of high society.”

Willem felt his guts turn at the notion of paying twenty gardeners—to hear the capital was worse frightened him.

“I imagine you’d never accept to live in a place like this,” Anne Claire continued. “That’s not what I’m proposing. Instead… this way.”

Anne Claire took a side path, heading away from the towering mansion. Instead, she came to a separate building built in the same style, situated right by the outer walls. Willem assumed it might be a guest wing of some sort, but it looked too small for that. The countess opened the door, walking inside.

“The entrance we came through is convenient if you’re coming from the palace, which we were. But to get supplies, and allow the servants entrance, it’s inconvenient. The servants’ lodgings were built with that in mind.”

Passing by the empty square hall which branched into several separate apartment rooms, Anne Claire led them down a short flight of stairs. As they descended, Willem began to hear faint city noises. When they finally reached the bottom, he was greeted by a large rectangular room. Willem walked to a boarded-up window opposite the stairway, prying back the wood to look out. He was surprised to see that they weren’t very far from the docks—particularly, they were on a side street right off the dock’s main road.

“This separated, detached building is where all the supplies used to come in,” Anne Claire explained, looking around the place. “The actively needed staff slept upstairs, while a lot of the others lived in the city. Now… I imagine you could renovate this into a perfect place for your mutual aid society. Receive people in the room we’re in now…” She turned, pointing at a door. “And you could turn that storage closet into an office, or maybe the apartments upstairs. I don’t care, especially.”

Willem walked to the door, switching the lock. He opened it, stepping outside in quiet contemplation. He looked around, surveying all of what was nearby. There were mostly warehouses on the street, alongside some places of business… but all in all, they seemed quite well-maintained. The location seemed relatively upscale, and enough guards patrolled here to discourage any break-ins. The building was on the very start of the street. Above all… it had the connection to the count’s family. That could be invaluable.

“What do you think?” asked Anne Claire as she came out to join him. “I went over your documents again last night. I think this would be a perfect location for the people you intend to attract. I could give this to you today, son, if you agree.”

“Well…” Willem looked around. “If I agreed, I’d want to reach a fair price.”

“A fair price?” Anne Claire repeated, looking at him with a frown. “It hasn’t been used in five years. It’s just been sitting empty. You’d be doing me a favor if you stayed here.”

Willem crossed his arms suspiciously. He didn’t like owing others things—he especially didn’t like the idea of staying someplace he didn’t own outright, which seemed like what she was suggesting. “I don’t think we have the same definition of ‘favor.’ I’d like to buy my own property.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Very well—allow me to play your card,” Anne Claire said, a glint in her eye. “Your mutual aid society. Any profits over ten percent, I also enjoy twenty percent of. In return, you receive full ownership of these lodgings.”

It clicked in Willem’s head—the incredibly shrewd countess didn’t want a lump sum of payment, but equity in his fund. Long-term, that’d be worth infinitely more than whatever he could pay her now. That she had come with so elaborate a proposal overnight spoke to the depths of her capability. He’d need to keep an eye on her. For now…

“We might scare people off if we skim so much off the top,” Willem argued.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I disagree,” she held firm. “Unless you intend to change your terms of compensation… I won’t change mine.”

Willem noted her conviction in his head—he didn’t think he could negotiate her to go lower. This location did seem quite excellent. Perhaps he could rope the countess into doing more things for the society if she had equity. If she displayed as much business acumen elsewhere, he could use her talent.

“Give me a week to think, research,” Willem said. “Don’t want anyone to get taken advantage of.”

“Fine, very well. Until then, you’re staying here.” She produced a key. “I won’t argue.”

Her total confidence said a great deal about the viability of the location, and Willem begrudgingly took the key. Getting a good location might be worth surrendering some equity of his firm. He only hoped that the compensation plan wouldn’t dissuade potential customers.

“Now, you wanted census records,” Anne Claire continued. “The county archives have some, of course, but they’re not as detailed as what you probably need. In cases like this, we have to prevail upon the church. They keep a very detailed accounting of prominent citizen’s accounts. Their records are for the tithes, you see. The servants of our nameless goddess seem to spend more time thinking of gold and silver than the one they claim to worship.”

“So do I. I won’t hold it against them,” Willem said distantly, his mind was already wandering to those financial reports. He almost salivated.

“You’re too charitable for your own good, boy…” She beckoned him. “My husband was a large donor to the church. So long as I show my face, they should give you what you want right away. I’ll go on ahead—catch up when you can.”

“Sure.” Willem examined what seemed likely to become his new home, weighing the key in his hands as Anne Claire walked away. In short order she was flanked by several servants and guards, who’d been lurking dutifully off to the side.

“Must be nice,” Dirk commented, his lips pursed.

“Being me? Nothing’s better.” He looked at the man. “Or were you talking about something else?”

“Show up somewhere… day one, get the support of the widowed countess, and day two, get a free home by the port with the protection of the count’s family.” Dirk shrugged, forcing a smile. “I’m definitely… happy for you.”

“Free?” Willem turned around. “Did you say free? That home… if I agree to the deal, she took a humble property and turned it into equity in my business. Over time… she’ll receive a tenfold, hundredfold, thousandfold return on whatever paltry price this building could get.” He poked Dirk’s forehead, and the man stepped back in alarm. “You need to take cues from Anne Claire. She’s living proof that the spirit of capitalism and entrepreneurism is alive and well in this world—it just needs a jolt to stimulate it, something to jumpstart the economy.”

“You?” Dirk raised a brow.

“Introducing: Willem, rebranded.” He spread his arms wide. “Architect behind the Society of Assured Prosperity, financier for the business ventures of its members, and business consultant for the talented—yet uneducated!—souls of this woefully underdeveloped system of commerce. I’ll guide them all to wealth unimaginable.” He took a deep breath. “I can see it. But do you know what I can’t see?”

Dirk swallowed some retorts— ‘reality,’ ‘facts,’ ‘reason.’

“God. Or a nameless goddess, more specifically.” Willem’s blue eyes fixed upon Dirk. “You look like you have a lot to pray about, Dirk. It doesn’t seem like any of your prayers have been answered.”

Dirk’s face scrunched in suspicion. “What does that mean?”

“Well, just look at you.” Willem shook his head wistfully. “Whatever the case, tell me… will Anne Claire get those records I need from the church?”

Dirk brushed past the not-so-subtle jab. “I’ve no clue. All I know is that she’s right—the late count of the van der Duyn family was a tremendous donor to the church.”

“Right. ‘Donations,’ from which they expect favors. I find bribery disgusting and immoral, but donations? Don’t even get me started.” Willem walked back to the building’s door, locking it up with his key. “I’ve had bad experiences with churches. They’re unfond of money changers in the temple, and I love arbitrage around currency exchange rates. It was always a match made in hell.”

“If things carry on as they are, I’m sure they’ll name you a saint by week’s end,” Dirk quipped.

“You’ve jinxed it.” Willem turned around. “If I’m excommunicated, your starting pay as my insurance salesman will be lowered further.”

“I’ll be paying you to work, soon enough.”

“Tuition, it’s called,” Willem said, brushing past Dirk to follow Anne Claire. “Not a terrible idea.”

***

“It was all going quite well, until the very end.” Anne Claire fanned her head, clearly irritated. They stood on the docks of Gent, surrounded by a few of the dowager countess’ attendants and guards who stood a respectful distance away from their conversation. “The church’s matriarch wishes for you to submit to a Divulgence.”

“That sounds suspiciously like I’m meant to give something.” Willem looked for Dirk for direction.

“Only words,” Dirk explained. “The church collects life’s wisdom first and foremost. In a Divulgence, you’re meant to disclose the lessons that life has taught you.”

“My life lessons? That’ll take days,” Willem protested.

Anne Claire laughed, closing her fan. “It’s mostly just a show, my boy. Walk in, repeat some of the scriptures with different verbiage, then the matriarch sprinkles some praise and sends you on your merry way. I’ve impressed upon them the importance of this venture, so there should be no surprises.”

“Hmm.” Willem looked out across the docks, where the seagulls harassed some fisherman. “I’m not fond of lying, nor sanctimonious grandstanding.”

“Really?” Dirk said, emulating surprise. “You don’t like flaunting your virtues at every opportunity?”

Anne Claire looked miffed at Dirk’s tone, but Willem parried, “When you’re actually virtuous, you’re just standing, not grandstanding.” He thumbed at his nose in consideration, then gave a resigned sigh. “Well… fine. Fine, I’ll do it, but I’m not pleased. Come on, Dirk. Educate me. What am I supposed to believe?”