Luo-Luo never felt like more of a stranger in the household than in the days following Lord Husband and Sister Mila’s wedding.
To celebrate their nuptials, the husband and wife pair retreated to their new Citadel manor, which sat on the other side of Lord Husband’s ranch and adjoining office, and also bordered the lovely park. His new manor was close enough to Father-in-Law’s home to conveniently visit, yet far enough to allow for a sense of separation and independence, even if it was only a few minutes away. Expecting to move in soon after the nuptials, Luo-Luo had Sorya and Anrhi pack her things that very same night and eagerly awaited Lord Husband’s summons to their new home, but it never came. Instead, she lived out of her luggage for three full days without laying eyes on Lord Husband a single time, not even for the traditional post-wedding family dinners. The Bekhai had their own customs and traditions, which made Luo-Luo loath to speak up, for she worried it would lead others to think she looked down on Lord Husband’s people’s customs or was unhappy living with her in-laws.
Nothing could be further from the truth, for even though Mother-in-Law had a sharp tongue and Father-in-Law a stern demeanour, they treated her warmly and always made sure her needs were met. They were far more welcoming with Sister-in-Law Alsantset, always greeting her with warm smiles and open arms, which was curious since it was clear who the favoured child in their family was. Lord Husband was gifted an expensive Citadel manor, while his poor, talented artist of a brother Charok had to move his family out to the farm...
Had Lord Husband’s extended absence taken place a month prior, Luo-Luo would have dispatched a Death Corps guard with a message to remind him of his concubine, but ever since he proposed to raise her status to proper wife and she turned him down, she began expecting so much more from him. Thus far, she’d been sorely disappointed. Nothing changed, except now she saw even less of him, though he still made time to come collect his pets. Jimjam was still with her, but only because the skittish kitten refused to leave her side and often pestered her to play or sing him a tune. Roc and the Laughing Birds were free to come and go as well, and sometimes the rabbits were left in the courtyard to fend for themselves for a few hours, but otherwise, Luo-Luo saw neither hide nor hair of the others, save for Sarankho who sometimes dropped by with Li-Li.
Family dysfunction and absent pets aside, Luo-Luo was unsure where she stood in the new family dynamic, so she spent as much of her time at the workplace as possible. It wasn’t difficult since there was plenty for her to do, what with organizing Lord Husband’s wedding gifts, writing personalized thank you notes for him to sign, and preparing for the impending War Bond auction, which would take place later today.
All things Lord Husband should have overseen, but once again, he left it for Luo-Luo to manage...
After a quick and lonely breakfast, she went into Lord Husband’s old room to feed and spend time with the newest member of their family, a gifted snake who had yet to be named. It was ironic how she spent more time in Lord Husband’s bedroom during these last three days than she had since moving into the manor many months ago, but the humour was lost on her. With Lord Husband too distracted to care for the beast, Luo-Luo took responsibility for its well-being and had an enclosure custom designed and built to house the beautiful, verdant green creature. The walls were fashioned of an iron mesh framework to allow air to flow through, with a solid iron base and a clear-glass roof which could easily be replaced with an iron one when in transit. A marvellous thing, this clear glass, recently developed by Lord Husband’s think tank, and already her people were fielding orders after Lord Husband revealed it at his wedding, not just for flowers, but also so that Sir Inky the octopus could dine with the rest of the family.
The aquarium, as Lord Husband called it, only had one glass wall, and was much too fragile to transport for any long distances without significant risk. For this same reason, only the snake enclosure’s roof was made of glass, rather than the entire thing as Luo-Luo had initially wanted, since it would be most disastrous if a highly venomous and aggressive snake was set loose inside the manor. Still, a glass roof would suffice for now, so Luo-Luo peered down at the lovely little creature and greeted it with a cheery ‘hello’. Curled up in the corner, it raised its head and eyed her closely whilst she topped off its water dish and left three quail eggs in the outer compartment. The double gated approach was quite necessary until the little snake could be trusted not to bite, so she made sure the outer gates were sealed tight before sliding the inner gate aside.
A smile etched across her face as the beast slithered over for its feast, its movements so strikingly sinuous. A gorgeous, verdant green creature with eyes in the most vibrant shade of yellow she’d ever seen, Luo-Luo found herself most enamoured by the curious little reptile, though Lord Husband wanted nothing to do with it. His antipathy was not without reason, as the Bekhai viewed gifted animals as an insult of the highest level, something she only recently learned herself, but it was not the little snake’s fault that the Situ Patriarch used it to show his scorn.
Truth be told, this revelation explained so much regarding Luo-Luo’s own situation. As far as she could tell, the Bekhai did not keep concubines, and they considered the title... beneath them, in some ways. Perhaps to them, a concubine was only a few steps removed from a breeding mare or cattle stock, so it was easy to see why the Bekhai would be upset when their most distinguished young talent was gifted a concubine for his crowning achievement. A most fascinating example of how the most minor misunderstandings could lead to disastrous results, for this difference in custom was responsible for a near-hostile working relationship between Lord Husband and his Patron, the man most likely to become the next Emperor of the Azure Sea.
It also cast new light onto Lord Husband’s desire to elevate Luo-Luo’s status to wife proper, in order to mitigate the stigma from an unintended slight rather than out of any actual fondness for her company...
Disillusioned by this most recent discovery, Luo-Luo felt a certain affinity for the gifted snake. A highly venomous creature hailing from the dense jungles of the South, Emerald Vipers were notoriously aggressive killers who blended in with the lush greenery of their treetop habitats. Though not the largest of snakes, their fanged-bite could inject a powerful toxin that caused instant paralysis in commoners before killing them seconds later, through an unpleasant process one book described as ‘complete organ failure’. Martial Warriors were supposedly able to withstand the venom of a single bite, but Emerald Vipers rarely struck only once, often biting their foes a dozen times in a frenzied bout of agitated anger. Short of immediate amputation, even a Martial Warrior’s natural resilience was no defence against Emerald Viper venom, which was why Luo-Luo took no chances when visiting her newest friend currently residing in Lord Husband’s old room.
The Situ Patriarch had delivered the poor thing in a tiny box that was barely bigger than Luo-Luo’s hand, no doubt in an effort to agitate it beyond all reason. Assuming he gave sufficient warning in advance, it would be difficult to lay the blame at his feet if Lord Husband should succumb to the venomous bite of an openly gifted pet. Furious as she was, Luo-Luo’s heart broke when she peeked through the lattice box and found it curled up in obvious fear, so the first thing she did was let the creature out into a stone tub, albeit using a long broomstick she abandoned immediately when the snake sprung out in search of escape. Thankfully, she had two Death Corps guards standing by to seal the tub with a heavy wooden plank, which in retrospect made it incredibly difficult to safely feed the little snake or move it into its new home, where it currently resided.
“Are you doing well?” Luo-Luo asked, though she knew the creature would not understand her. “I’m not feeding you too much again, am I?” The snake never took its golden reptilian eyes off her as it swallowed the quail eggs whole, and had there been more eggs, it would have eaten until it was too bloated to even move, like it did on their first day together. A tiny little thing which maybe measured from her wrist to fingertip and barely even two fingers thick, the Emerald Viper ate quickly before retreating back to its sleeping spot, half of a hollow wooden log Luo-Luo had placed inside, alongside a smattering of other creature comforts like a bed of dirt, rocks, twigs, and other debris. At some point she would have to clean the cage, but it’d only been inside for two days and she saw no sign of droppings. She wasn’t even sure if snakes urinated or excreted, as the books she’d read had all been geared towards warning readers of the many dangers lurking in the Southern province, rather than a treatise on how to properly care for your new pet.
Perhaps Luo-Luo would write one, should the people of the Empire wish to follow in the footsteps of their most visible Imperial Scion. Already, the young nobles were starting to dress like Lord Husband, and Luo-Luo had seen many a fool carrying around their pet cats, weasels, and other small animals, though it’d done nothing to endear them to Lord Husband. Instead, he released a scathing condemnation of these new pet owners citing that pets were not fashionable accessories, but significant responsibilities to be sheltered and cared for. While he didn’t go so far as to wish death upon all unfit pet owners, he only stopped short because Luo-Luo insisted, and even then it’d been a close thing.
To think, this had been one of the first pieces published by his newly acquired printing press, which for once was not something of his own genius design. Instead, he purchased the device from an enterprising young clerk who designed it himself after hearing how Han BoShui spent a fortune making copies of ‘Storm over Sinuji’, his personal account of Lord Husband’s fall from grace. Though Lord Husband didn’t seem too impressed by the device and complained often about its inefficiency, Luo-Luo made sure to hire the inventor to run their printing press, which had already recouped the initial investment by stamping out pamphlets detailing the intricacies of War Bonds. A copy had been distributed to every guest at his wedding and delivered to every merchant and noble household in the Northern Citadel, even those Luo-Luo deemed too poor to spare the minimum 9,523 gold, just so they could familiarize themselves with the concept.
A wondrous device, this printing press, though Lord Husband wasn’t wrong to complain. It was rather unwieldy to set up, as each character on the page required its own stamp made from baked clay, so if someone only needed fifty or sixty copies, then it would be faster to hire two clerks to write it out by hand. To be fair, the standards Lord Husband laid out in his book of inventions were also impossibly high, as he described a device that could print off multiple pages at one time with little more than a single written document and no time to set up.
Insisting on exacting standards while putting in minimal effort was becoming something of a habit for Lord Husband, but there was nothing Luo-Luo could do but go along with it.
Directing four Death Corps guards to carefully bring the snake enclosure out into the courtyard, Luo-Luo took her zither outside and played a little tune for the beast. She wasn’t sure if the creature enjoyed her music, but she’d read accounts of how some southern musicians could charm snakes with their flutes, so it was worth a try, and she had nothing more pressing to attend to today. Over the past half-year, she’d trained Junior Yimu and a dozen other loyal clerks to carry out the bulk of her duties, though she still intended to go into the office to make sure everything was in place for the War Bond auction this afternoon. Until then, she was free to play music to her heart’s content, with only Jimjam, Sorya, Anrhi, and the little snake for her audience.
Perhaps it was only her imagination, but the little snake seemed disappointed when Luo-Luo stopped playing some minutes later to look in on it. It seemed so pitiful and lonely inside its cold, desolate home, but there was nothing she could do for the poor thing, not without risking what she read was almost certainly a quick and painful death, so she bade the little snake goodbye and left it out in the courtyard to enjoy the sunlight. That had been a part of Lord Husband’s published rant, ensuring a high quality of life for any domesticated animals, but much like the women in his life, he only cared for the animals he favoured and left the rest to rot in lonely despair.
Well... someone should show him he couldn’t treat people like this... or animals for that matter!
Filled with righteous discontent, she stopped short and ordered the Death Corps guards to go back and fetch the poor snake, so she could spend a little more time with it out in the park. With her zither in hand, she picked out a lovely little spot next to the cattle pen and beamed as the burly beasts hopped and skipped their way over to line up at the fence and voice their enthusiastic welcomes. After checking on the little snake once again, Luo-Luo settled in for another performance and played song after song in an effort to remind Lord Husband of his forgotten concubine. She played until her fingers ached and she could play no more, giving voice to her anger, frustration, sadness, and desire through the magic of music. When her fingers came to a stop and the last note faded into nothingness amidst the bleating of cattle and scattered applause of the gathered crowd, Luo-Luo felt unburdened by her woes and ready to return to part with the snake and return the office, where she would no doubt finally come face to face with Lord Husband once again.
The warehouse office was right next to the cattle pen, and there in the upstairs office, she found Lord Husband hard at work. Despite all her woes and grievances, or the pithy remarks and snippy statements she’d readied to wound him, all her antagonism melted away as he greeted her with a cheery smile in his distressingly plain black outfit. “Morning Luo-Luo,” he said, beaming as he glanced up from a sheaf of documents. “I’m just looking over the details, but you’ve done a wonderful job preparing for the auction while I’ve been away.” Pulling out the chair beside him, he waited until she finished greeting Aurie and took her seat before continuing. “I want to thank you for giving me and Mila this time to ourselves,” he said, clasping her shoulder warmly. “It means so much to both of us, especially with all that’s going on.”
Now that Luo-Luo thought about it, perhaps she’d been a tad insensitive in wanting to move in immediately after the wedding, for the newlyweds surely deserved some time to themselves. No! He all but abandoned her for these past few days, after proposing marriage only a week before. What’s more, yesterday, he brought Lin-Lin out to the farm and spent the day flying kites and looking for groundhogs while Sister Mila, Yan, and Li-Li all meditated in the bamboo grove, but Luo-Luo didn’t hear about it until Mother-in-Law Sarnai mentioned it at dinner. Lord Husband was a liar and a cad, and Luo-Luo could not forgive him so easily, with but a sweet smile and soft touch.
Favouring him with a frosty smirk, Luo-Luo sat upright and kept as much distance between them as she could without leaning away, a thinly veiled condemnation of his actions. “Thank you for your kind words, but this one had much help from her subordinates, and Lord Husband’s instructions on the matter were clear and concise.”
Too concise, in fact, and she had words for him regarding this, but he pushed the papers away and shook his head when she moved to point out her first objection. “You always skip the preamble and jump straight to business,” Lord Husband teased, pouring her a cup to tea. “Not the worst thing in the world, but sometimes a man needs time to warm up. Work can wait while we catch up. Mom tells me you’ve taken a shine to the little snake.”
“Yes Lord Husband.” No scathing condemnation followed, and in fact, Lord Husband seemed more amused than anything else, so she went on to detail how she’d been caring for the snake and what she hoped to do next. “Feeding it quail eggs is not a viable long term solution, as they are a seasonal delicacy here in Central, but this one knows not what else to feed it.”
“Calling it ‘it’ sounds so impersonal.” Stroking his chin in thought, he fell silent for a few seconds before lighting up with delight. “How about we call it ‘Noodle’? Works for a boy or girl snake, once we figure out its gender.”
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Resisting the urge to laugh and fall victim to his boyish charms, Luo-Luo nodded at the silly name. “Noodle then, but the question still stands. What can we feed Noodle to ensure it has a healthy diet?”
“Well, you said you’ve been feeding Noodle every day right? I’m pretty sure snakes don’t need to eat that often, especially if it stuffed itself to the point of not being able to move on the first day.” Shrugging, Lord Husband said, “If you’re really concerned, pen a letter to Rang Min asking for advice regarding pet care, and let him do the research for you. He gifted us Noodle after all, so it’s only right, though I’m pretty sure he expected us to kill it. I mean, I was ready to feed Noodle to Roc, if I’m being honest.”
“No! You can’t!” Was that why he named the snake Noodle?
Laughing at her horrified response, Lord Husband promised he wouldn’t have Noodle killed, provided it didn’t escape. “About the snake venom though,” he mused, “Do you think it could be weaponized? Even if it doesn’t cause total organ failure in Defiled, complete or partial paralysis would be pretty nice if we coated crossbow bolts with it.”
Ugh. Men. Always thinking up new ways to kill things, and Lord Husband was guilty of this more often than most. “One author tried, but when collecting the venom, he discovered it was actually an amalgamation of two different fluids, which Emerald Vipers produce in two separate glands. On its own, neither fluid is deadly to humans, but they come together inside the snake’s body only fractions of a second before being discharged by its fangs. The amalgam is what constitutes the Emerald Viper’s deadly venom, but it coagulates and loses potency within an hour after combination, which makes it impossible to collect it for anything besides immediate use.” Unless one bred a ridiculous number of Emerald Vipers and killed them to harvest the fluids inside each gland separately, which the author tried. At less than a thimble-full of each fluid per full-grown snake, he concluded that the time and effort was not worth the reward, since Emerald Vipers were notoriously territorial creatures who flew into a frenzy if kept in the presence of a competitor, not to mention how they only gathered to mate once every five years. However, knowing Lord Husband’s dedication to finding new ways of dealing death and his tendency to spend coin like water, Luo-Luo kept quiet about this particular line of thought, for she did not wish to lose her new serpentine friend so quickly.
Noodle was very similar to Lord Husband; small, anti-social, lovely to look at, and deadly as sin.
“Ah, what a shame.” After puffing his cheeks like Lin-Lin often did, Lord Husband deflated with a sigh. “Then again, I suppose if it was this easy, someone else would have done it already. Either way, I look forward to meeting Noodle later on.”
“Oh? Lord Husband will be having dinner at home?”
“At Mom and Dad’s yes. I’ve got my own home now, and you should make ready to move in.” Finally the invitation came, and Luo-Luo almost jumped in delight, but Lord Husband instantly ruined everything. “Mila, Yan, and Lin-Lin already claimed their rooms, but you can have any of the other three. Not to rush you or anything, but once you’re settled in, I’d like to make preparations to host a family dinner, and...”
While Lord Husband made plans, Luo-Luo found herself stricken with indecision as to where she wanted her room. On the one hand, being physically closer to his room meant there was more of a chance he would stumble in drunk one night, but on the other hand, Luo-Luo had no wish to spend the next year listening to his bedroom antics with all her future sister-wives while wasting away with loneliness...
They chattered over tea and crackers for a little while longer, until Luo-Luo almost forgot she was upset with Lord Husband. Looking away to break the enchanting spell his amber-eyed gaze cast upon her, she asked, “Where is Mama Bun? Did the Medical Saint finally allow her into his garden again?”
“Ha. As if. No, the little glutton’s over there,” Lord Husband said, pointing at the corner behind Luo-Luo. There, she found the sweet, fluffy rabbit pressed flat against the hardwood floor with her eyes half-open in an accusatory glare. Meeting Luo-Luo’s gaze, Mama Bun sneezed and stomped her back legs with such tremendous force it made her droopy ears flap in an amusing fashion, before she turned away and bodily threw herself into the corner. “I’ve been neglecting her these last few days, so she’s throwing a tantrum. Isn’t that just adorable?”
It was, but once again, Luo-Luo felt a certain empathy for one of Lord Husband’s pets and it was hard to keep the accusation out of her tone. “And you’re just leaving her there? Poor thing.”
“Can’t help it. She’s in a big mood today,” he replied, smiling at the faint accusation in her tone. “Twenty minutes before you arrived, she was curled up in my lap and cuddling so sweetly you’d think I was gone for three years instead of three days. Then she remembered she was angry and ran off, so if she wants to pout in the corner, then that’s fine too. She’ll come around again eventually.”
Upon hearing his explanation, Luo-Luo realized her thought process was all too similar to sweet Mama Bun’s, and she did not find the comparison flattering.
Their conversation soon turned to business, and Luo-Luo jumped on the opportunity to ask, “Lord Husband, are you certain this is how you wish to proceed? This first sale of War Bonds should be a momentous occasion, so we should strive to make a spectacle of the auction.” Instead, he’d chosen to go in the opposite direction and purposely arranged matters to be as sober and sedate as possible. A silent auction he called it, selling forty batches of ten War Bonds each all at once, with no opportunity for prospective buyers to change their bids on the fly. Once all the bids were received by the Justicar charged with accepting them, Lord Husband intended to open the envelopes in full view of the crowd and announce each bid from each household one by one. Once all the numbers were tallied, the forty highest bids had three days to present the money, else they forfeited their chance which would then be offered to the next highest bidder.
Not only was there no pomp or grandeur to be had, it was as if he wanted it to be a dull and boring affair.
After hearing Luo-Luo’s arguments on the matter, Lord Husband nodded and said, “You raise a valid point. This should be a festive affair, but my worry is that the harder we try to make it seem like this is a good thing, the more suspicious our investors will be. Right now, they’re expecting us to convince them to buy War Bonds, but why should we?”
“...Because the point is to sell them?”
“No, not this time.” Settling back into his chair, Lord Husband explained, “While greeting guests at the wedding, I kept wondering, ‘Why am I working so hard to sell War Bonds? This is a chance of a lifetime, and they’re all treating me like a crook’.” Grinning, he added, “Early investors will probably make money hand over fist when people realize how valuable they are, so if the first batch goes for a discount, that just means more money for me when I resell. That’s why I asked you to scale back on advertising. This is the initial batch of War Bonds, only five hundred in total. At value, that’s four and three quarters of a million gold raised, and a quarter million we’ll need to pay in interest within the year, give or take. Easily doable, which is why this is such a great opportunity. Right now, no one has faith in War Bonds, so most people will bid low. Not too low, but not too high either, which means our allies probably don’t need to bid too high to win.”
The pieces came together and Luo-Luo cried out in delight. “Thus ensuring our allies benefit the most while risking the least.” Eyes widening in realization, she said, “The second batch is not for another two weeks, correct? Can you delay it?”
“Sure, should be easy enough. Worst comes to worst we can just ruin the batch and make them print replacements. Why?”
“Because then we can use the time to reward the early investors while laying groundwork for future endeavours. Private banquets, political favours, even just accompanying some of the less prestigious investors to unaffiliated events, we can do all this and more to raise envy and discontent. Then, when the next batch goes on sale, the nobles and merchants of the Empire will enter into an all-out bidding war, because they too will wish to rub shoulders with an Imperial Scion.”
“Smart. We can even take the extra time to bring in our early investors on certain plans, so they make even more money from our efforts.” Grinning from ear to ear despite being told he would have to socialize, Lord Husband added a few ideas into the mix, and they spent the next hour or so discussing how to proceed from here, as well as putting the final touches on today’s historic events. Then they had lunch in the workroom together, along with sweet Mama Bun who’d finally gotten over her fit of pique and promptly melted into Lord Husband’s embrace, and for a few hours, they talked, worked, joked, and laughed, and Luo-Luo felt closer to him than she ever felt before.
When it came time for the auction, Lord Husband called his Death Corps guards to fetch his litter, which was rather out of character. Seeing the unasked question in her eyes, he sheepishly looked away as his cheeks turned shockingly scarlet. “I er... pulled a muscle. Yea. And uh... fell down some stairs. Just a minor injury, I can still walk, but stairs are tricky, so there’s no need to bother the Healers.” A lie if there ever was one, but before Luo-Luo could ask more, he continued, “Oh that reminds me: do you remember reading something about someone coming up with a super strong metallic alloy?”
Taking a moment to organize her memories, Luo-Luo nodded as the details returned. “Yes, of course. The creator claimed the tensile strength was twice that of normal steel, allowing for a sturdier framework at lower weights, but it was prohibitively expensive, something along the lines of fifteen to twenty times the cost of high-grade steel by volume, and even more if measured by weight. We turned down the meeting, because at those prices, we could use thrice the amount of steel and still come out ahead in both sturdiness and cost.”
“Right, right.” Still unable to meet Luo-Luo’s curious gaze, Lord Husband coughed and said, “Could you arrange a meeting with the creator? I... uh... have a project that could benefit from having stronger steel. Much, much, much stronger steel.”
Though Luo-Luo was still burning with curiosity, Lord Husband would say no more, so after boarding his carriage, they set off for the main square and arrived just as the Justicar announced he was no longer accepting bids. Lord Husband’s idea, to have the Justicars ensure complete fairness, and he even went as far as to refuse to even touch the box of sealed bids when he arrived. “No, no, we must ensure there is no room for suspicion and the entire process remains beyond reproach,” he said, gesturing at the large table which was set up for this very purpose. “If you could bring the box over there, and maybe shake it a bit so all the bids get mixed up? Thank you.”
Already, Luo-Luo could feel the audience’s discontent, because Lord Husband had yet to address them. In their eyes, they were here to do Lord Husband a favour and give face by bidding on his War Bonds, but he didn’t spare any of them a single glance. Instead, he did what he only just accused Luo-Luo of and skipped all the preamble to jump straight to business, and the esteemed members of the audience did not like this one bit. It didn’t help that there were people with less than kind intentions here to stir the pot, but Luo-Luo was unfazed. Let them pout all they wanted, because Lord Husband was right; he didn’t need their favours. He was here to help them, to better the Empire as a whole, so why should he grovel and debase himself for the burden of working for their benefit?
Following Lord Husband’s instructions, the accompanying Justicar announced that until now, no bids had been tampered with or removed since being placed inside the box, and guaranteed that the collection had concluded without issue. Then, the Justicar unfastened the lock, flipped open the lid, and pulled out a sealed bid before passing it to Lord Husband, who opened the unmarked envelope without any fanfare. “The first bid is from the Situ Patriarch, Rang Min,” he announced, only for Kuang Biao to echo his words and project them across the Citadel with his Chi-infused voice. Somehow, the former Royal Guardian’s dry monotone made the disrespectful use of the Situ Patriarch’s name even funnier than usual, and many coughs sounded as nobles and merchants alike tried to cover up their laughter. “He bids 9,523 gold per War Bond, which is the exact value.” The crowd burst into murmurs, as this was something of a controversial move, a statement which declared the Situ Clan would give face to the Imperial Clan, but had no faith in Lord Husband’s endeavour.
Hardly surprising, but Lord Husband seemed pleased by this turn of events, and held his hands up for silence. “This is great, because I forgot to mention beforehand: should there be multiple winning bids who offer the same amount, the War Bonds will be distributed to whichever bid was drawn first. So it looks like Rang Min’s luck is going strong, because if everyone bids this same amount as expected, then he will receive the first batch of War Bonds.”
After a short pause to take in Lord Husband’s declaration, a few shouts rose from the crowd asking why order mattered, and again, Lord Husband held his hands up for silence. “Because not only are the War Bonds limited, they’re also numbered,” he explained, flashing his mischievous smile. “For security and identification purposes of course, and all War Bonds are equal, but some of you might have lucky numbers you would prefer to hold onto. For example, the first batch is not only the most prestigious, but it also holds War Bond number one-hundred and eight.”
Which of course was a significant number because it was a widely accepted belief that the human body contained a hundred and eight feelings. Brilliant, Luo-Luo hadn’t even thought of this, and now Lord Husband had introduced a collector’s market for certain numbered War Bonds. What’s more, no one was talking about the Situ Patriarch’s snub anymore, which made Luo-Luo wonder if Lord Husband had planned this, but how? No, this was merely fortuitous happenstance, rather than god-like planning, which showed that Lord Husband still held the Mother’s favour, despite his recent string of hardships.
One by one, Lord Husband opened and announced each bid, and as expected, almost every winner was already tied to his cause. Sister Mila’s parents won with the highest bid, offering thirty-thousand for each ten-thousand gold War Bond, while Lord Husband’s parents came in second, at one gold less, which was no doubt something they’d discussed beforehand. Marshal Yuzhen, Marshal Yo, and Marshal Quyen were next at twenty-five thousand each, with the latter two having stayed after Lord Husband’s wedding for this very purpose. The Ryo Family, the Lin Clan, the Harmonious Unity Sect, Magistrates Tong, Situ, and Chu, all of Lord Husband’s most powerful allies were represented amongst the winners, though there were a few loosely associated investors who saw this opportunity for what it was.
Most surprising was the name in last place, one which was wholly unfamiliar to Luo-Luo’s ears. MuYang knew who this Chun-Qiu consortium was, as he seemed to know everyone, but even he didn’t know why such a large group of trivial merchants would band together to offer eighteen-thousand and one gold per War Bond on a risky gamble, but Luo-Luo was confident they’d made the right choice.
Announcing the forty winners and stamping the War Bonds for everyone who had their gold on hand took the better part of two hours, and by the time he was done, the crowd had dwindled down to almost nothing. No doubt Lord Husband’s enemies were already celebrating his ‘failure’, because thus far all he’d done was take money from his closest allies, but they did not understand the full breadth of his brilliance. “Okay, now that all the formalities are over and done with, it’s time to reveal my initial investment plan.” Again, Kuang Biao echoed Lord Husband’s words, but Luo-Luo felt the monotone Death Corps Guard was too lacking to convey Lord Husband’s joyful and playful tone. “I know, I know, it sounds crazy. An investor with an actual plan. How surprising. Seriously though, I found it strange no one asked about it beforehand, so I must thank the noble and patriotic supporters who have professed so much confidence in my abilities, and I hope to live up to their expectations. As thanks, I would like to invite every War Bond holder to a private banquet, paid for out of my own pocket and...”
After listing out the various ways he intended to show gratitude, Lord Husband turned to Luo-Luo with a grin and stretched out his hand. Taking it in her own, she smiled and squeezed back while nodding in support, even as her heart pounded with excitement. Their efforts had finally come to fruition, and this was a victory she shared with him and no others, a bond between her and Lord Husband. “Using these generous funds raised from this first batch of War Bonds,” he continued, “I intend to put forth a program to lend gold to farmers, ranchers, tradesmen, and professions from many other walks of life, for the sole purpose of purchasing property along the Western border, where they will work, reside, and provide for the entirety of the Western Wall.”
And there, in a single sentence, Lord Husband revealed his brilliant scheme to the world at large. Everyone expected him to pocket the money as a bribe and pay off the people above him, but Lord Husband was far more devious and instead invested in the people below him. This was a sure-fire path to victory, or at least as close to one as Luo-Luo had ever seen. In recent times, vast swathes of land just east of the new Western Wall had been abandoned in droves, because commoners did not feel safe living so close to the border, and land owners were not willing to pay the increased wages required to tempt workers to stay. Take Lord Husband’s beet farm for example, which he purchased at one-twentieth of the price it would have sold for only two years back, but he paid a heavy premium to convince farmers to work on his beet farm, and it was only profitable due to the high price and low costs of producing beet sugar. Eventually, the price would fall as competitors joined the fray, and they would be able to offer even lower prices because they could pay their farmers less and ship their product in, but what if Lord Husband gave his farmers the land they worked? Why, then the farmers would fight amongst themselves for the privilege to work the land, and Lord Husband would collect a portion of their harvest each year to slowly pay off their debt, while also being poised to purchase surplus goods for cheap before reselling it to the closest outpost or Citadel and earning coin hand over fist at both ends.
What’s more, he was earning coin three, four, or even five times over, because not only had he already bought up most of the land bordering the Western Wall, as Minister of Finance, he picked which lands to settle new owners on, set the price for each parcel of land, and paid himself for said lands, all of which allowed him to collect the War Bond funds in a legitimate, above-board fashion. The transaction was all on paper, and the farmers would never even see the coin. They would simply be saddled with a debt they would pay over the next forty years, but so long as they made their payments on time, then the land was theirs and could be passed down to their children, grand-children, and more. Lord Husband was selling a dream using money which was not his, and the people would love him for it.
All this was only scratching the surface of Lord Husband’s brilliant, long-term investment, one which would pay off in more ways than just coin, but first came the most difficult part: Convincing Shen Zhen Wu to authorize it, for without his backing, Lord Husband’s plans would come apart before ever getting off the ground. Not a problem if the favoured successor to the throne was patient and blessed with foresight, and since Luo-Luo had no reason to believe he was not, with a lot of time and a little luck, Lord Husband was on track to become the most financially powerful person in the outer provinces, and in time, possibly even the entire Empire itself.
No matter how phenomenal his Martial Skills might have been, Lord Husband was wasted as a mere Warrior. This was his true calling, a merchant lord rising to the top with creativity and ingenuity, and now his future was limitless.
If only he were clever enough to find his way into her bed-sheets...
Chapter Meme
Chapter Meme 2
Chapter Meme 3