The Imperial Capital. The Golden District.
The Vermillion Trade House was usually a quiet place of dignified business. But today, the street outside was blocked by carriages.
Dukes, Countesses, wealthy merchants, and their desperate servants were pushing against the iron gates.
Inside, Lady Isabella Vermillion stood on the balcony of the Grand Hall. She was sweating, despite the cool spring air.
Below her, five hundred of the wealthiest people in the Empire were gathered. They were not smiling. They were like sharks smelling blood.
"Is it true?" shrieked Countess Valerica, a woman known for wearing pearls worth a castle. "Does the Vermillion House have the cure?"
"The cure for what, Countess?" Isabella asked, playing innocent, clutching a velvet-covered box.
"For this!" Valerica pointed to her neck, where a layer of thick white powder failed to hide the red, angry rash caused by Sir Roderick's cheap soap. "My skin is on fire! Roderick is in the dungeon, but where is the relief?"
The crowd murmured angrily. The "Soap Scandal" had ruined the social season. Half the court was itching.
The Unveiling
Isabella signaled her servants.
They brought out a table covered in purple silk.
On it sat a pyramid of 1,000 bars of "Aurora" Soap.
And next to it, 100 Crystal Bottles of "Aurora Essence."
The room went silent.
The soap didn't look like the yellow blocks of fat they were used to. They were smooth, oval, and glowed with a soft violet hue.
The bottles... they were unlike anything the Capital had seen. Clear as ice, etched with snowflakes, containing a liquid that looked like magic.
"This," Isabella's voice rang out, "is not soap. This is Restoration."
She picked up a bar.
"It contains no animal fat. It contains no ash. It is distilled from the rarest Frost-Violets found only in the deepest craters of the North."
She walked down the stairs to Countess Valerica.
"May I?"
Valerica hesitated, then nodded.
Isabella took a small, wet sponge and rubbed the "Aurora" soap on the Countess's inflamed wrist.
The lather was rich, creamy, and smelled of cool mint and vanilla.
Valerica gasped.
"The burning... it stopped. It feels... cold. Like ice."
Then, Isabella opened a bottle of the Perfume.
She didn't spray it. She used the glass stopper to dab a single drop on her own wrist and waved her hand.
The scent hit the crowd like a physical wave.
It wasn't the heavy, musky rose water they used to cover up bad smells.
It was crisp. Clean. Sharp.
It smelled like Wealth.
The Riot of Gold
"Ten Gold!" a Duke shouted from the back.
"For the soap?" Isabella asked.
"No! For the bottle! Ten Gold!"
"Twenty!" Countess Valerica screamed, grabbing Isabella's arm. "I will take the whole crate! My husband will pay anything!"
"Fifty Gold for the bottle!" a foreign ambassador yelled, waving a heavy purse. "The Emperor needs a gift for the Empress!"
Isabella stepped back, overwhelmed.
Rian had told her to sell the soap for 10 Gold and the perfume for 50.
But the market was insane. They were fighting. A man in velvet actually punched a baron to get closer to the table.
"Order! Order!" Isabella shouted, banging a gavel she didn't know she would need.
"The price is fixed! 15 Gold for the Soap! 100 Gold for the Essence!"
The crowd didn't blink.
"I'll take ten!"
"I'll take twenty!"
Servants were running back and forth, carrying chests of gold coins that were so heavy they dragged on the floor. The purple bars disappeared faster than they could be restocked.
In one hour, the Vermillion Trade House didn't just make a profit.
They made a Dynasty.
The Aftermath
Midnight.
The hall was empty. The shelves were bare.
Isabella sat on the floor, surrounded by open chests.
Gold. Mountains of it.
75,000 Gold Coins.
Her father, Lord Vermillion, walked in. He was a hard man who rarely smiled. He looked at the empty tables and the full chests.
He looked at his daughter with fear and respect.
"In forty years of trade," Lord Vermillion whispered, picking up a gold coin, "I have never seen a frenzy like that. We sold out in an hour."
"We didn't sell out, Father," Isabella smiled tiredly. "We just finished the first batch."
"Who is he?" Lord Vermillion asked sharply. "The man who makes this. You said it was a partner in the North. Is it the Duke of Winterfell? The Baron of Frosthold?"
"No," Isabella stood up, dusting off her dress. "He is nobody. Just a ghost in the snow."
She wrote a letter on fine parchment.
"To the Ghost. Shipment 1 Sold Out. Demand is critical. The Capital is yours. Sending your 75% share via the Secret Route. - Isabella."
Back at Fort Blackiron
Day 140.
Rian was eating a simple bowl of stew when Varg kicked the door open.
"Boss! A caravan from the Vermillion House just arrived!"
"Already?" Rian wiped his mouth. "Did they return the stock?"
"No," Varg looked pale. "You need to see this."
Rian walked to the courtyard.
Five heavy wagons stood there. They were guarded by 50 elite mercenaries (paid for by Isabella).
The lead driver bowed low to Rian.
"Lord Rian. Lady Isabella sends her regards. And... this."
He opened the first wagon.
It wasn't supplies.
It was Gold Bars.
Thousands of standard Imperial Gold Coins, melted down into bars for easier transport.
The serfs gathered around, gasping.
They had never seen gold. They thought it was a myth.
Now, there was a pile of it in the snow, glowing in the torchlight.
Rian looked at the fortune.
56,000 Gold (his share).
He didn't laugh. He didn't cheer.
He turned to Lara.
"Lara, how much does it cost to buy the Iron Mountain to the East?"
"About 5,000 Gold, My Lord."
"Buy it."
"How much for the best High-Carbon Steel from the Imperial Reserve?"
"10 Gold a bar."
"Buy 2,000 bars."
"And how much," Rian turned to the Apprentice Clockmaker, Kaelen, "to build a factory for your Repeating Crossbows?"
"Maybe... 500 Gold for the tools?" Kaelen stammered.
"Take 1,000."
Rian picked up a gold bar. It was heavy.
"The Perfume was the bait," Rian declared to his stunned people.
"This," he pointed to the gold, "is the fuel."
He looked at the unfinished foundation of the factory.
"The time for begging is over. The time for 'Low Profile' is ending."
"System," Rian whispered.
Rian threw the gold bar to Grom.
"Melt this down too if you have to. But build me that Engine."
End of Chapter 46