Three days later, Lucien had been moved into the North Tower.
A breach of regulations; non-Academy students were not permitted to live in Academy lodging, and the blood of the Empire was duty-bound to report an Unauthorized Occupant of his quarters at the palace within an hour.
Both issues were cleared up well before breakfast.
He’d presented Academy Registration to the guard at the door (“My friends over at the Registrar’s office owe me because I tutored them for civil service exams back home; I’m just calling in the favor to help them pass”), and an Imperial Patent stating the seventh prince of the Empire “is to be undisturbed as he is currently involved exclusively in private magical study.” “Private research?” Elena’s voice was soft with suspicion as she examined the papers, holding them at arm’s length with wary curiosity.
Even with the perfectly duplicated seals and signatures, a furrow deepened between her brows.
“That’s what I’m researching,” Lucien said, sinking into the chair before her desk as if it were already his.
“Learning how to turn fourteen weeks of financial misery into fourteen months of profit and growth.
You need a tax strategy for your company, not additional funding.
As a member of House Vance, your family receives grants to pay for Imperial taxes, whereas when you are working on your own, you have to pay thirty percent on all earnings.
What if Vance Holdings becomes a tax-exempt charitable religious foundation instead?” “A charity?” “A tax-exempt charitable religious foundation.
Charitable foundations, you see, promote spiritual and magical well-being in the oppressed.
Due to the very nature of such organizations—as long as the foundation itself can pass as a religious institution, just like the Academy—Imperial taxes can never be claimed upon it, and a proportion of income can also be assured from the Church’s endowments.” Lucien let his pen trace a line through the ink.
“The registration can be filed in the morning.
One week from now, you will receive two hundred crowns from the Church monthly.” Elena blinked slowly, her mouth opening in a perfect ‘O’.
“That’s…
You are aware that this is fraud.” “That is law,” Lucien declared, a bright spark in his eyes suggesting that this was precisely where he was meant to be—a master manipulator and rules lawyer.
“Don’t mind my own intentions.
The only applicable laws are about the status of an organization, and I am very well acquainted with that designation.” It hadn’t taken even another week for the academically registered, illegally housed, financially disastrous Vance Holdings to turn around into a flourishing business.
The Academy servants had already been organized into an intelligence network based on coin and promises, aided by his own visits to every non-essential office in the administration.
He’d charted all their personal histories, financial and romantic failures, desires, insecurities, and phobias.
He’d also discovered a second and third source of income besides the promised Church income of two hundred crowns a month: a forgotten ancestral fund accessible by Elena, and an investment from a merchant’s guild, whom he’d charmed into believing there was an excellent prospect for investment in “young arcane entrepreneur” candidates such as herself.
Costs were cut by nearly 40%, and revenue tripled previous records.
Meanwhile, Lucien was profiling likely threats to both the current operation and the future, be they student or faculty.
“This seems fun, doesn’t it?” Elena voiced the thought.
They were sitting on the floor of her room; the table was entirely cluttered, the chairs piled precariously, and Kael stood guard in the open doorway like a sentinel while they chipped away at bits of snacks stolen by a kitchen maid from the banquet hall.
“I’m alive,” Lucien said.
He’d eaten none of the snacks.
Instead, he was idly stroking a ledger on the table with his fingers; his fingertips glowed a faint blue before trailing away into light.
“For the first time, this isn’t a scramble to stay afloat every waking moment.
One door has been opened into my life exactly once, and I am thankful for that, though what happens next makes a person question such good fortune, to be able to feed the wolves.
Elena…
Why would you possibly put so much trust in me?” Lucien met her eyes as his finger stopped over a thick file of documents.
“I could have taken your money; I could have handed you straight back to your father; I could have destroyed you.” “Could you?” Elena took a sip of wine.
“Before providing you with my seed capital?
Possibly.
However, while utilizing the Golden Touch, wouldn’t that technically mean that you are linked to my growth as well?
So, essentially, if I were to die, then you couldn’t grow anymore.
You’re not controlling my mind, but simply my life force in some aspect, right?
A symbiotic arrangement.” “You are a leech.” “Leeches require hosts,” Elena stated flatly, then gently lowered the wine goblet from her lips.
“It does appear that you are not like me; you truly can see my potential.” The door creaked open wider once again.
Kael drew his sword almost without realizing it, a blink of movement.
But it wasn’t one of Lucien’s potential threats who had entered; it was only a maid—who had also recently been enlisted as an informant in Lucien’s quickly growing intelligence network—standing with a curtsy.
“Sir,” she bowed, her eyes still fixed on Lucien.
“My Lord.
You requested to be notified the minute that crippled knight entered town; he’s begging for coins down at the Temple of Mercy in the lower quarter.” Lucien’s fingers froze above the page and the pencil.
He turned his gaze toward Elena.
She, too, had that faraway glow that indicated a jolt of recognition had taken hold of her vision.
“The crippled knight,” Elena murmured.
“Sylas Vane.” “Do you know him?” Lucien asked in utter surprise.
“I know what he can become,” Elena replied easily, as she stood to her feet and put on her coat.
“Kael, we have some shopping to do.” [TICK: Financial turnaround underway.
Intelligence network operation: successfully established.
Asset #3 located.]