"Paying aside, how do we make money, lord?" Finnan asked. "We are neck-deep in debt to finance anything new."

"We don't need anything new," I clarified. "Existing will certainly do the job."

Surely, nobles weren't dumb enough to rely solely on taxes from peasants to sustain their lifestyles. They must have other businesses as a backup in case of revolt or natural disasters. At least that's how history played out in my world.

"We have done many businesses over the years, yet nothing brings enough profits to dispel the curse," he replied.

"Others have done it, not me," I shot back. "It will be different this time."

"How, lord?" Finnan queried; curiosity evident in his eyes.

"Want me to slap you?" I threatened; the only way to keep needless curiosity in check.

"No, lord."

"Then bring me a paper and write down all the businesses done and currently underway by the Willards," I ordered. "And do it now."

Willards were nobles, rulers of some land, part of some kingdom. There was an economy, and rules were set in place to govern and protect it. I had to abide by those rules, and what's a better way to do it than find a business that wasn't doing so well, then pump it back to life. The foundation was already prepared; all I had to do was tap into it.

Without any reply, Finnan extracted an empty parchment from one of the cabinets beside the bed, then a quill and an ink box from another, and sat down on the floor to write.

Smart man! I couldn't help but commend the man's sheer dedication to his job. And fear, also.

Minutes later, he handed me the paper, but I denied accepting it. "Read it," I ordered. I wanted to push this man's limits to see how much he could tolerate me while retaining loyalty.

"Yes, lord," Finnan began. "First, the non-operational businesses that are currently bleeding money." He looked at me, and I gave him a nod to go ahead. “First, Silver Haven Trading Co, deals with silver import and jewelry. Second, Willard Spice Traders, deals in spices coming from the far east. Third, Irongate Resource transport, deals with human resource trading.

These are the businesses that vastly depend on maritime trading, but due to the very long travel distance, harsh weather, and poor conditions of our ships, are on hold. Yet the seamen and ground workers are getting paid because Lord Harwyn plans to rebuild the fleet and continue with the trades.”

“Makes sense.” I could agree with Harwyn here. “You can’t just let go of the skilled workers.”

“But it has already been a year, and he has yet to do anything.”

“What? That long!” I was honestly surprised. “You can’t just keep paying them for doing nothing. He must have had them engaged somewhere else?”

“No, lord.” Finnan sighed. “The seamen refuse to work anywhere but the sea, and the workers anywhere but the port.”

“Come on!” I wailed. “It’s a medieval world. Just get rid of them if they have that attitude towards the hand that feeds them.”

“Skilled workers, lord.” He scoffed, and I couldn’t help but get annoyed by Harwyn’s stupidity. It was evident he didn’t have the backbone to make tough decisions and manage his business properly. No wonder the venture was losing money.

Finnan continued, "The next one is a barely-operational one. It’s Darkwood Lumber Mill, which has been facing a shortage of raw materials due to a recent increase in demand and limited logging capabilities. The profit margins have decreased significantly, and without immediate measures, it may soon become unsustainable."

"Hmm…" I rubbed my chin, pondering the situation. "Any other ventures struggling?"

Finnan nodded, "Yes, lord. There's also Goldendale Vineyards, suffering from pest infestations, and Duskmere Mines, which have experienced several accidents leading to decreased production. The list goes on..."

I listened intently, my mind racing with ideas. These struggling businesses were the key to solving the debt problem. By turning them around, I could not only clear the debt but also create a stable income for the Willards. And with enough money, I could even go toe to toe with the Duran Trading Company, and give them a taste of their own medicine.

“Now, the operational ones,” he declared, bringing my attention back to him. "Seiren Textiles. Partially operational and generating close to three hundred thousand Niril a quarter."

"...How much is a Niril again?" I asked, not having any knowledge of the currency of this kingdom or world or whatever.

"Uh… it's a hundred Siril, lord," Finnan answered after a slight delay.

"How much is a Siril?" I further inquired, having no idea what that was either.

"It's a thousand Curil, Lord."

"How much is a Curil?"

"One Curil is one Curil."

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"How much is one Curil, damn it?" I cried, patience wearing thin.

"Lord?" The guy was confused. I mean, he mustn't have expected Arwan to forget the basics of the basics of his land that he grew up in.

I took a deep breath before clarifying. "I mean, what can you buy with it?"

"...A loaf of bread in terms of food," Finnan added. "Other items are different and…"

"You know what, just tell me how much I need for a month to live like a commoner if I was thrown into the streets tomorrow?" I put forward the bluntest question available, which would grant me a basic idea of the current economic situation and a minimum fund for me to always keep close, if the need ever arises.

"For a month… you will be fine around five thousand Curils," he replied.

"I see." Now the calculation was clear. "These are all coins, right?" Using commodities as currency was a thing back in the day, I was sure.

"Yes, lord," Finnan explained further. "Niril is made of gold, Siril is silver, and Curil is copper."

"So, three hundred thousand gold coins." I estimated. "That's a lot, isn't it?"

"You are forgetting the operating cost, lord," he reminded. "Hardly two-tenth of the total remains as profit after all expenses are paid."

"And that's nowhere near enough."

"Nope," Finnan shook his head in denial.

“Then how are they repaying the debt?”

“They aren’t.”

“What? Why?”

“For over two decades, only quarterly interest has been paid. That too from the taxes which should be used for the people and remaining sent to the crown.” Finnan clicked his tongue. “We haven't even scratched the main sum yet. This is why I said, it is a curse. Never lets go.”

The realization hit me like a tidal wave, shaking me to my very core. The situation was more dire than I had expected. “This will kill us all,” I mumbled, locking eyes with Finnan, who nodded in agreement. “If we don’t do something soon, there will be nothing left to save.”

“You are absolutely correct, lord,” Finnan stated calmly, hands behind his back. “But what can we do, except delay the inevitable. Our hands are tied, always have been.”

“Then untie them,” I stood back up, eyes and mind sharp. “And bring me a fucking cane.”

***

As I leaned against the glass window, my gaze fixated on the vibrant city of Seiren, its bustling streets and colorful buildings painting a vivid picture of life beyond the carriage's confines. The rhythmic rattling of the carriage served as a constant backdrop to my contemplation. The newly acquired cane, its black surface contrasted by a golden handle, rested in my lap, a symbol of my determination to take control of my destiny.

Before me, on the long seat, sat Finnan, donning a pair of round glasses, engrossed in his task. He exchanged glances between a few parchments spread out on his lap and a small pocket watch held firmly in his hand. With meticulous attention, he scrutinized the contents before finally turning to me.

"It's impossible, Lord," he stated, shaking his head from left to right.

I furrowed my brows, not comprehending his meaning. "What's impossible?" I inquired.

"That we would be able to visit every one of our businesses before evening," he explained, showing me the clock pointing to exactly three. "We have to return before seven. Only four hours to inspect it all. Just impossible. Traveling alone will eat away most of it."

Listening to his detailed explanation, I rolled my eyes. "Lord Finnan!" I scoffed. "Saying we will cover everything by evening is just an expression, used to show my dedication," I clarified, heaving a sigh at the man's attempt to take everything literally. "I also realize it's impossible in this carriage. We don't have a magical flying carpet, idiot."

Finnan looked slightly embarrassed at his literal interpretation of my words. "Apologies, lord," he said, sheepishly glancing away from me. "I misunderstood your meaning."

"It's alright," I reassured him with a smile. “For now, let’s visit the closest one.”

Finnan nodded in understanding. “Closest and inside the city would be Seiren Textiles. Both shops and factories should be open. We will also have time to inspect through records and plan out an approach.”

I leaned back on the seat, considering his idea. “Let’s start from the factory then. I need to know how they operate.”

"Excellent choice." Finnan agreed, making a note on one of the parchments. "Shall I inform the driver to head there?"

I nodded, and through the small hatch above him, Finnan directed the driver, only for the driver to halt the carriage the next second. Before I could ask what happened, black horses appeared beside my window, dozens of them ridden by men in black, with a golden emblem on their chests. They moved swiftly and in unison, creating an air of mystery and danger.

Gradually, they passed the window, and another carriage, identical to mine with the Willard's black flag billowing atop, came into view. Once aligned with my window, the carriage stopped, and the curtains were drawn aside, revealing two children inside. A boy no more than five and a girl no older than seven peered curiously through the window. When their eyes met mine, they started giggling, baffling me.

"Who are they?" I asked Finnan, perplexed by the unexpected sight of children in the midst of the serious guards and carriages.

When I got no response, I looked at Finnan, who appeared puzzled at my question. "What?" I cried in a hushed tone.

"...They are your nephew and niece, lord," he replied.

"Oh!" I turned back to the window, hoping to greet the children, but instead, I was met with the intense gaze of a blonde man. His expression was unreadable, and it felt like he was staring right into my soul. Startled, I flinched back, and the man chuckled at my reaction. He waved at me, but his carriage rolled away before I could wave back.

As our carriage continued its journey, I steadied my breath and mumbled to myself, "Harwyn, huh?" It didn't take long for me to deduce his identity. He was the man from the family picture, but a bit older now. He looked exactly like the Count, except for his azure eyes, which he must have inherited from the Countess.

"He returned at last," Finnan smiled.

"Where had he gone?" I queried.

"To find the Duke of Thorneshire."

"Why?"

"I do not know, lord," Finnan responded. "You should ask him later."

"I should do that," I agreed.

The carriage continued its journey, slowly yet surely, weaving through the crowd and intersections until it reached an enormous, cathedral-like structure with the name "Seiren Textile" handcrafted on it. There were two guards guarding the gates, and upon noticing the carriage, they pushed open the large doors.

We glided through other checkpoints easily, and once the carriage stopped, Finnan immediately exited and helped me to do the same. Pinning the cane onto the ground, I steadied myself and looked around. Many people caught my eyes, both men and women going on their ways carrying boxes, cotton, and many more pieces of equipment that I had no knowledge of.

Finnan gestured for us to move towards a set of closed doors, and once he pushed them open, an unwelcome sight greeted my eyes. With brows twitching, I faced Finnan.

"Is this a factory or a pub?"