In some odd way, the term ‘Dutch’ actually calmed him down a bit. It could be the soothing image of windmills and tulips the word brought to mind, or perhaps the centering effect of a familiar term in an unfamiliar world. Either way, he was able to breathe a moment easier and rise from his seat with a clear head.

“Alright, let's organize my thoughts,” he said to the empty room. His words cut through the quiet space. As he spoke, his eyes fell on a small, ornate statue of an armless woman. She had a subtle smile on her face, and though he chose to look at her marbled breasts rather than her eyes, he found her to be an excellent listener.

“So, we have a murdered family, and the little girl from that family is coming here for some reason. This is because of a report against my—or our...his?” He shook away the silly thought. “I'll just say his mother,” he explained to the stone woman. “It's not like I knew them anyway, right?” He questioned. The statue, of course, gave no response, but he took her silence as agreement. “Right.”

“She must be the reason this Duke family is in danger,” he continued, pacing in a semi-uniform circle. “Something his mother did is causing a significant threat to the family, something that requires desperate measures.” He inhaled deeply, the earthy, wooden smell of the office filling his lungs. It was clean and refreshing, but it didn’t help him figure out why a report led to murder. “Desperate measures,” he repeated, then sighed and crossed the room to poke the statue once more. “I don't know, do you have any idea?” he asked it.

He grumbled. “The duchess... she was powerful, right?” he mused aloud. “If there was no grand dukedom, she’d be the highest lady in the land, besides the royal family. So, what could she have done that was so bad?” He lifted the surprisingly heavy statue, holding it before him as he began to pace again.

Was there some kind of law that a duchess couldn’t break? Or no, let’s forget the rank for a bit. The duchess was a woman, and considering everything he had seen so far, the suffrage movement would take quite a while to happen here. So then, what could a woman do that would threaten the dukedom? From his old world, there were a few options, but the kingdom still stood, and the dukedom seemed well off, so...“Perhaps an affair,” the words rolled easily off his tongue as he brought the statue to eye level.

“An affair seems like a safe bet. After all, legitimacy was affected by such things.” Or rather, legitimacy was taken away by such things. In novels, bastards were always ostracized and hated. He would have liked a more realistic idea of how they were treated, but history was never his greatest subject.

“Maybe it’s not about his mother but about his own legitimacy. If he were found not to be the legitimate child of the Duke, that would indeed be a threat he’d need to silence. But only if there was another heir with greater legitimacy.”

His eyes widened in understanding. “You're right,” he said, nodding. “Perhaps I have a brother, born from an affair by my father, who has more legitimacy than I do because I was born from an affair with my mother. Even if I were the named successor, my status would still be in doubt because I wouldn’t have a drop of ducal blood in me… dukal? No, that sounds even worse... ducal?” He shook his head, breaking himself out of the curiosity of how to say 'ducal.'

He pointed to the statue. “That's not important,” he snapped and began pacing again. “Right now, I need to focus on finding this brother and figuring out why he poses such a threat to me.” The brother was likely supported by the Liberty party, giving him significant clout. If he were revealed, it would be quite damaging. And if he were easily found, then his death would be the better solution; without credible evidence, it would just be another dead commoner. “So, they haven't revealed the truth yet, or at least haven't deemed the time opportune.” They must have hidden the child, protecting him until the time was right. Absentmindedly, he poked the statue's breasts with his finger, a smile creeping on his face. “Meaning that the only threat is the Maygolds. That is to say, what they left behind—the report that the butler mentioned.”

Their deaths would be nothing more than a delaying action. No doubt that's why they would need access to this Sunwell Manor of theirs. “Which means that we somehow managed to take the ward of a hostile party for access. Which means I now have to look after a child. A child of the parents that I have killed. Well, this is going to go swimmingly.” He shook his head. What a mess. “No, that's not even close right now. We need to focus on that report that… my butler mentioned.” Whose name I will have to figure out. But for now, he was confident he had a general understanding of the situation. “At last, everything makes sense,” he said as he set the statue back down. Giving it one last poke on the nose before he walked over to the window.

As Maxwell continued to ponder, a knock could be heard at the door. Adjusting himself and ensuring he looked presentable, he called for the knocker to “enter.” It was the butler, carrying a silver tray with two white cups and a long carafe of coffee. “My Lord, I have prepared this delicious roast brought to us from the Maratira Province.” Maxwell nodded as he entered. The butler gave a gentle smile and continued, expertly pouring the coffee. “Of course, this is nothing compared to the roast from the southern sea route, but due to the trade difficulties, I'm sure you will understand. Nevertheless, it is a delightful flavor.” true to his words the scent of coffee filled the air, its warm and gentle aroma pleasing the senses.

Placing the cup before the duke he continued. “The Count of Maltese has arrived and is currently being entertained in the parlor room. He can be called at any time when you are ready. Is there anything you would like to review before the meeting?” Yes, everything! But he couldn’t say that. Maxwell thought about it as he lifted the cup, enjoying the scent as he took a cautious sip. It was perfect, in temperature and taste.

He allowed himself another sip before bringing his mind back to the conversation. Recently a mine had been discovered so… “Is there anything of note about this mine, or is it just a standard affair?” he asked. He wasn’t sure if it was the right question, but it was the only one he could think of. After all, if it was just congratulations on a new mine opening, then there would be no need for such fanfare as having a count meet with him. However, if it was something like there being a dragon at the mine, that might require more pressing concerns. Although, how cool would it be to find a dragon—an actual living, breathing dragon?

Shaking his whimsical thoughts away, Maxwell brought his attention back to the butler, who simply stated, “No, it's just a common dispute between the County of Maltese and Belago, as the mine was found between the border of both. There's no reason to claim it for ourselves, so ultimately it's just about choosing who to favor.”

Ah, so it was something common. Maxwell panicked internally. He hid his teeth clenching by smiling. Common, my ass. Choosing who to favor when he didn’t know either party! How was he going to do something like that? As far as he knew, they were both counts, and there was a mine between their territories. What should he do, flip a coin? Oh, wait. Isn't that a good idea?

Well, something to think about, either way, he couldn’t afford to look weak before he had his chance to stand his ground. He stated as authoritatively as possible, “I understand. You can go ahead and send him up after a bit. I'll enjoy this coffee before the meeting.” The butler gave him a knowing look and nodded. “I understand,” he said, and with that, he left, leaving Maxwell to wonder what exactly the butler understood. Not that it mattered, because with the idea of coffee, he had bought himself just a little bit of time.

He hoped his predecessor, the actual Duke, had left behind some indication of what to do with the mine. Perhaps there were notes on the desk or the bookshelf.

In his haste, Maxwell found that one of the larger drawers of the desk was locked. The lock felt particularly heavy, and the keyhole was no ordinary one. Instead, it seemed to require the insertion of a circular object about the size of a thumb—perhaps the end of a knife or dagger? That would be an interesting rabbit hole to explore, but for now, he was desperate to find anything about the mine.

Instead, he found a document stating that the 77th platoon was involved in an incident that led to the loss of a significant herd of cows. Another document highlighted multiple instances of fraud, abuse, and treachery in a trade agreement that had yet to be signed. He even found an order to repurpose one of the guest rooms into a child's bedroom. Other documents included hunting reports, the cost of wheat, and notes on raising the price of alcohol and the scarcity of fruits in certain regions. While he could understand the general reasoning behind these documents, he couldn’t fathom why they were on his desk.

Stolen novel; please report.

In the end, he found nothing about the mine or any decision that needed to be made. He realized the butler was right—this was an easy decision the Duke had clearly known how to handle, which explained the lack of relevant documents.

Finishing the last of his coffee, he rang a bell to alert the butler that he was ready, even though he wasn’t. Soon enough, there was another knock on the door, and the butler introduced the Count of Maltese.

“Your Grace, I present to you Count Ludwig Keckle, the Count of Maltese and owner of the honor of Pretrath. My Lord, I bring you to the Duke of Greystone, Maxwell von Gravestone.”

Giving the butler a brief nod of acknowledgment, the count entered the room. Rubbing his hands together, he introduced himself despite the earlier introduction. The count was a large man with red hair and pale eyes. He wore an elegant suit that spoke of wealth, and his smile gleamed in his eyes.

“The pleasure of meeting you is all mine, Your Grace,” he said with a flourishing bow. “As you know, I am the Count of Maltese, and we have met before, though I imagine meetings at parties are truly unmemorable for such a notable figure as yourself.” His smile was bright and honest. Yet he continued talking as fast as he could. Perhaps he was nervous? But there was no hesitation in his voice. “Your Grace, I have brought you a fine gift, which I have left in the hands of your excellent staff. It is a vibrant new silk we are producing in the county that will revolutionize the market. This silk is not just a product of cocoon worms but an elegant synthesis of spider’s thread and silk. As such, the material is incredibly durable and even more luxurious than Belago Venom silk.”

He explained his new project with such devotion and enthusiasm that he didn’t notice the butler shaking his head, signaling to the Duke that this was something to be frowned upon. Good to know.

Maxwell stood up from his chair and walked over to the couch in the middle of his office. It was a comfortable piece, fluffy and giving a soft poof as he sank into it. He indicated for the count to sit in the seat opposite him and nodded to the butler.

“I understand this is in reference to a mine that was recently discovered,” he began, and the count was quick to finish his sentence for him.

“Yes, Your Grace, I have come because the mine has been found on the peninsula of the Emerald Coast and, as such, should belong to our territory. While it does extend into Belago County, it is only underground and therefore unattainable to the residents of that county. As such, you know as well as I do that this mine belongs to us, and I already have the documents ready for you to sign,” he said, taking out papers from the folder he had brought with him.

The finalization of this mine... Maxwell was lost in wonderment about what this might mean. Stating that the mine could only be accessed through a cave on his county’s side was interesting, but the claim that it couldn’t be accessed by digging was slightly confusing. He knew of many digging methods that would allow the extraction of ores found just below the surface. Or was that just for quarries that dug up stone and rock? Whatever the case, he needed to delay.

With an assertive “I see,” he took the documents and began to read them over. It was odd, to say the least, as they were quite restrictive in their language. Essentially, the count was asking for the ownership of the land, not just mining rights. The document's complex and convoluted wording made Maxwell realize why he wasn’t a lawyer. He had to reread it a few times, prompting the count to ask, “Well?” Well what? You made some complex document for me to sign and haven't even given me a moment to read it. The other count was looking better in his eyes every day.

“I don’t know,” came the Duke’s honest answer as he looked over to the butler, trying to gauge his reaction. Thankfully, there seemed to be a plan already in place, and the butler took his action as a signal and retrieved several documents from a hidden drawer in the bureau. At least that’s what the Duke told himself, as he had not thought to look in that drawer.

“The Count of Belago was already here,” the butler informed him. “He made a similar offer, gifting the Duke precious jewels from the mine they already own, showcasing the fact that they already know how to operate a mine.”

“That swine,” Ludwig cursed, making no attempt to hide his frustration. “Of course he would attempt to persuade your most noble self, but surely you are wise enough to see through it!”

Ah. I understand now. Who to favor, or rather whose bribe he liked best and wanted to maintain positive relationships with. One gave the gift of silk and the other jewels. No doubt they would enjoy rewarding what they thought was the right choice. And in doing so, they would support him as well. Well, not bad.

However, as of now, Maxwell didn’t care for jewels or silk; allies were something he could enjoy, however. “How long have the counties been feuding now?” he asked. Thanks to the count’s reaction, he was positive that they had not been on good terms for a long time now. A simple mine wouldn’t breed this much hostility.

“My lord, you are well aware of that tortuous man's family. They had stolen the land away; it is by all rights ours in the first place. You cannot allow this to continue! It belonged to my great ancestors for generations!” A feud over land, it seemed. And a generational one at that. Fighting just for the sake of continuing the fight.

“Well, it's time you both accepted things as they are,” he said.

“Your Grace?!” the count questioned, the color draining from his skin. “Surely you can’t!”

“This is the start of your friendship,” he continued. “You will both share the mine and enjoy its revenue and management. You will work together and stop this useless fight. I will not have generational hatred bring disorder to my dukedom. Do you understand?”

“But,” the count said, squeezing his hands tightly together before slamming the table. “That's not possible!” he declared, glaring furiously at Maxwell. “Those bastards have been nipping at us for centuries. They killed Melissa! I would sooner die than shake the hand of that bastard.”

A heavy silence followed, broken only by the count's labored breathing. Maxwell internally groaned, realizing he had made a mistake. He had tried to choose a path that both sides would accept and grow together, but long-standing feuds weren’t so easy to resolve. History was deeply etched in this world. He recalled the tragic tale of Romeo and Juliet, where both families had nothing to lose or gain, yet their feud turned love into tragedy. Ultimately, he realized he needed to make a choice, but he still hoped to avoid it.

“Very well then,” Maxwell said. “If you cannot get along, then I suppose the mine will not be able to function on either of your lands. As such, please note that we will ensure the correct payment for your lands when we take over the mine.” Choosing to double down he stood up, giving a look to the butler as he continued, “I trust we could easily manage such a low-level mine?”

The butler, seemingly understanding his intent, nodded and agreed. “Yes, it will be such a trivial matter that we will start pulling out good ore in less than a year.”

“You can’t!” the count declared as he stood up.

Maxwell looked at him and offered a simple explanation. “You’ve already informed us that you are unable to handle the situation, so we will step in and take care of it ourselves. Unless, of course, you think you can get along with your good neighbor?”

He left the question open, allowing silence to hang in the air. It was clear the count was furious, not even wanting to entertain such an idea, but between that and losing the mine, Maxwell wondered which one he would choose.

While a valuable resource, an iron mine was common. It would mean nothing to many people but a slight increase in profit, taxes, and revenue for the state. Counties would no doubt love to receive such a thing, while dukedoms might see them as trivial. To be honest, Maxwell didn’t know what to think of the mine, as he’d never had to consider such matters before. In the end, he simply hoped he was making the right choice in risking two potential allies and an iron mine.

Okay, I have to admit, I have no idea what I'm doing, he thought to himself. Feeling the sweet on his brow he hoped that his nerves were not visible to anyone.

The silence was deafening, so after a while, the Duke decided to relent, “I will give you a few days to think about this.” After all, it was a big decision. “I look forward to what you decide. Oh,” he turned, looking back at the butler, “be sure to send a letter to Count Belago informing him of the situation. I trust you both will have a lot to think about. Now, if you don't mind, I would like my office back.”

With that, he walked over to his desk and sat back down while the butler guided the count out.

The Count was fuming with rage, his face red with frustration and anger, but all he did was grit his teeth as he was guided away. No sooner had both men left than the Duke stood up once more and quickly walked to the desk to look at the documents concerning the mine. It seemed that the Count of Belago was requesting almost the same: the other Count's land in exchange for mining rights and a percentage of the profit. It would be a tempting offer if such a mine could produce enough profit to catch the attention of a Duke, but for some reason, Maxwell had a feeling money was no problem for him.

Wouldn't it be a shame if he found out after all of this that he was actually very broke? He couldn't help but smile awkwardly at the idea. “There's no way,” he said aloud with a timid laugh. “There couldn't possibly be a way for that to be true. He knew that. He had to know that. Of course, he knows that.” Yet, there was an anxious part inside of him that felt there might be something to it.