Ethan slammed the sealed letter down on the table, rattling the inkwell and sending a stray feather skittering across the parchment. A satisfied smirk stretched across his face as he tossed a hefty pouch of coins onto a pile already overflowing with similar ones. Hector’s shipment was dealt with.

The soap business was practically booming.

Though, yes, I need to get these pouches transferred instead of letting them sit here...

Shaking his head, Ethan grabbed the letter with his hand, lifting it closer as he opened it to examine it in more detail.

It read just like any other letter with a lot of jargon and beating around the bush. Ethan practically skimmed through it all and stopped when he reached the point of interest. It was then that a scoff escaped his lips as he re-read a passage from the letter twice.

“Outrageous,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Apparently, word of his success had reached Westford, and the Baron, Ashton, wasn’t shy about expressing his ‘desire’ to secure a “consistent and exclusive supply” of Ethan’s “cleansing concoction.”

How the tables had turned.

Ashton had denied him back then, and now he’d come crawling back.

The terms, however, were practically demands—an exorbitant price per bar and a hefty cut for the Baron himself.

“Seems someone doesn’t understand the value of soap. Oh well, you’ll be crawling to me once the damn Night Whispers start infecting your people with the Blight again—”

He stopped himself mid-sentence as a frown creased his brow. What had gotten into him? Blackmail? And now, this? When had he become this… this… conniving? It felt wrong.

Unease settled in his stomach—

Anyway.

—So he focused on something else instead. He read the letter completely, accompanied by his thoughts that he ignored. A sound from the window drew his attention and he blinked. A black feathered raven, indistinguishable from its kin, save for the hue of green emanating from it. A glow he could recognize because Jack let his summons emanate their mana whenever they came to him so that Ethan could easily recognize them. Jack would never, however, do it with anyone else. Maybe Thomas, now that I think about it. Given that he’s Jack’s boss.

The raven tapped its sharp beak against the windowpane, the insistent rapping cutting through Ethan’s contemplation. He sighed, setting the letter down and pushing himself away from the table.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, stalking towards the window and throwing it open.

The raven hopped inside, its beady black eyes gleaming with what Ethan could only assume to be intelligence. He held out a hand, and the raven hopped onto it.

“Took you long enough,” said Ethan, gently stroking the raven’s feathers.

The bird cawed in response.

He carefully removed a small, rolled-up parchment tied to the raven’s leg and unfurled it. It was sealed with a wax imprint bearing the crest of a rearing silver stag—the sigil of House Argent, which was an old family that’d been ruling Argent for centuries.

Attached to it was another small note from Jack, and it read: one of my summons was in contact with the Baron of Argent, thus I decided to deliver his letter. Otherwise, it would’ve been slower.

Ethan hummed, and then he broke the seal of the other parchment and scanned the contents.

Lord Theodore of Holden,

You are hereby summoned to Argent Manor within a fortnight. Your presence is required.

Baron Montague of House Argent

It was brief. A mere summons requesting his presence at Argent Manor within the fortnight. No explanation, no pleasantries, just a curt command.

Anger burning inside him. The audacity was astounding.

Ethan read as Montague took on a joking tone.

Ha! I jest, young man. Did I give you a fright with that cold opening?

Fear not, for I shall be the one gracing Holden with my presence. I’m already on my way, as a matter of fact. There’s some business I need to attend to in your parts, and I’ve heard promising whispers about your soap production and a good word from a few people. I’d be glad to sit down and talk about any future endeavors you and I might be able to tread upon.

I know you’ve got quite the reputation, lad, but don’t let that trouble you. I was once a young hellion myself. We old codgers can look past such things when there’s profit to be had.

Expect me soon. We’ll talk soap and maybe share a drink or two.

Until then,

Montague

Ethan imagined him to be a stupid old man here, laughing his ass off, rubbing his goatee—why a goatee? Last I recall, Montague doesn’t have one...

Regardless, despite Montague’s peculiar approach, this could be the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

Securing a deal with Baron Montague wasn’t just important—it was crucial. The old man commanded vast resources that could revolutionize Ethan’s soap production. Montague’s wealth could finance the construction of proper factories, replacing the makeshift workshops that currently dotted Holden. His manpower—skilled laborers, experienced foremen, and especially [Mages]—could increase production tenfold; they wouldn’t even require that much teaching.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Ethan’s mind raced with possibilities. With Montague’s backing, he could establish a robust supply chain, sourcing raw materials more efficiently and distributing the finished product across the kingdom—forget the small cities.

The only issue was the Night Whispers...

Doesn’t matter for now... Ethan sighed; he didn’t sound convincing even to himself. I’m sure by the time my soap’s making rounds in the bordertowns, Thomas would’ve solved the Night Whispers issue. Argent is big, not to mention Westford. Heck, I’ve yet to fully “infiltrate” Corinth with my product, not to mention the other smaller towns dotting the surrounding areas.

Furthermore, the potential benefits extended far beyond mere logistics. An alliance with House Argent would grant Ethan significant political leverage. Montague’s influence in the royal court was well-known; his support could open doors that had long been closed to the young lord of Holden. It could mean favorable trade agreements, reduced tariffs, and perhaps even a seat at the table during important policy discussions.

Well, maybe not the last one.

But he could be optimistic, couldn’t he?

Moreover, such an alliance would send a clear message to Ethan’s rivals and detractors. No longer would he be seen as just an upstart with a checkered past. Partnering with a respected noble house like Montague would lend him legitimacy and prestige, forcing others to take him seriously as a player in the complex game of kingdom politics.

Ethan set the letter down, his mind whirling with strategies and contingencies. He needed to prepare for Montague’s visit meticulously. Every detail of the soap production process had to be polished to perfection. He’d have to strike a delicate balance—impressing the old baron with his business acumen while deferring to his experience and status.

This was his chance to secure Holden’s future and elevate his own standing in one fell swoop. Ethan couldn’t afford to squander it.

Shaking his head, Ethan stood up and stretched. Work done for the day, he retreated to his room with his mind still buzzing with thoughts. As he settled into his familiar bed, comfort washed over him like hot water.

He took a deep breath, then exhaled. Once, twice, thrice, he did that. Opening his eyes, Ethan began the process of creating rune motes using [Basic Rune Creation]. Okay, let’s begin.

His mana moved deftly to create rune motes.

Beside him, Opie coiled lazily on a cushion, while Wynd sprawled out on the floor, sleeping.

As Ethan worked, his mind wandered to Jack’s message about the Argent Baron. Jack had a summon on standby with the Baron of Argent. On standby. Ethan doubted that. Jack had his summons all over the place, he knew, so it was unusual for Jack to provide such information without prompting. The tax collectors had come and gone without any warning—that had been important—but Jack hadn’t informed him, so how was this visit different enough for Jack to inform him?

“What’s your angle, Jack?” Ethan muttered under his breath, never stopping his rune mote creation. “You wouldn’t have told me about Montague without a reason.”

He pondered the possibilities as he continued to create rune mote after rune mote. Was Jack hoping to gain something from the Baron’s visit? Or was there a hidden agenda that Ethan couldn’t see?

Hours passed, and the pile of rune motes grew steadily. Ethan’s concentration never wavered, his determination to not only improve but also money and a comfortable life driving him forward. He had lost track of time, focused solely on the task at hand.

Suddenly, a familiar sensation washed over him. It was a feeling he had experienced before, but never ceased to excite him. His eyes snapped wide open as he realized what was happening.

“No way.”

In that moment, something clicked into place. The rune motes he was creating seemed to flow more easily, the patterns becoming second nature.

It was as if a veil had been lifted, and it had revealed new depths to his understanding of [Basic Rune Creation].

Sure enough, he got the notification:

[Basic Rune Creation] – Lvl 7 -> Lvl 8!

Unable to contain his excitement, Ethan let out a triumphant cheer. “Yes! Finally!”

The sudden outburst startled both Opie and Wynd from their peaceful slumber. The snake hissed in annoyance, while the wolf let out a startled yelp.

“Sorry, guys,” Ethan said, grinning from ear to ear. “But I did it! I leveled up [Basic Rune Creation]!”

Overcome with joy, Ethan lunged forward, wrapping his arms around both Opie and Wynd in an exuberant hug. Though initially surprised, they seemed to sense his happiness and relaxed.

Opie slithered up Ethan’s arm, wrapping around Ethan’s shoulders in what could only be described as a serpentine hug. Wynd, not to be outdone, licked Ethan’s face enthusiastically.

As the initial excitement began to subside, Ethan calmed down.

“You know,” he said, scratching Wynd behind the ears, “there’s just something incredibly satisfying about seeing those numbers go up. It’s like... tangible proof that I’m getting better. Oh, how I wish I had something like that back on earth. Doing everything would’ve been so much easier. Granted, I’m likely biased, because here, the system actually has some kind of power that’s transferred to me; having only a progress report of your natural developments would’ve been rather boring. Though, then again, it would’ve been cool”

Opie flicked its tongue against Ethan’s cheek.

I wonder what new possibilities this opens up, Ethan mused, his mind already racing with potential applications for his improved skill. I can create more complex runes now, or produce more efficiently. Hmm, I’ll need to test them out. I also need to progress other stuff more.

He glanced around the room, taking in the scattered piles of rune motes he had created during his intense session. The sheer quantity was impressive.

“We should celebrate,” Ethan declared, standing up and stretching. It was less about celebrating and more about simply relaxing after hours of sitting on his ass puking out rune motes. Ew, why did I just think that? Ethan shook his head. He could be weird sometimes.

“How about a little treat for all of us?”

As if understanding his words, both Opie and Wynd perked up, their eyes following Ethan as he moved toward the small cupboard where he kept their favorite snacks.

While rummaging through the cupboard, Ethan’s mind drifted back to the impending visit from Baron Montague.

“You know what?” Ethan said, turning back to his animal companions with treats in hand. “I think I’m actually looking forward to the Baron’s visit now. It’s funny how a little progress can change your perspective.”

He tossed a piece of dried meat to Wynd who caught it mid-air with impressive agility. For Opie, he placed a small, wriggling insect on the nearby table, watching as the snake struck with lightning speed. Grandma Millie is a godsend. I could never...

Shaking his head, Ethan continued, “What do you think, guys?” Ethan asked, settling back down on the floor between his [Familiar] and the wolf. “Should I try to impress Montague with some fancy runic work? Or keep things low-key?”

Ethan wasn’t about to do any of that, he just wanted to interact with the two.

Opie slithered closer, resting its head on Ethan’s knee, while Wynd placed a large paw on his lap.

“You’re right,” Ethan chuckled, interpreting their actions as he saw fit. “I should just be myself. After all, that’s what got me this far, isn’t it?”

These two are far too intelligent for animals. Opie, I understand; he leveled up when I named him. Wynd on the other hand... Seems like he’s growing, too.

Ethan found himself yawning. The intense focus required for his rune creation session had left him physically and mentally drained, and the [Swordsmanship] practice earlier in the day followed by intense magic practice had left him rather sore, too.

“I think it’s time we all got some rest,” he said, stretching his arms above his head.

With that, Ethan prepared for bed. As he drifted off to sleep, Opie coiled up on the pillow beside him, and Wynd took up his usual spot at the foot of the bed.