No one would realize the magnitude of the deceit until a little late Tuesday morning.
The Duke’s upstairs associates—the lords over the lords of the common—had confirmed the notion that, indeed, a presence, or the components of one, remained in the ruins, and their landlord had even expressed his delight at bringing in a “motley collection of disabled deviants, bastards, and property.” He’d had his house slave slip into the abandoned structure to investigate and confirmed that, an hour later, the noise of non-stop scratching against the outside of the structure still continued.
Come Thursday, it was too unstable to live there now.
The scandal couldn’t be contained anymore.
“Housing degeneracy,” he’d finally declared a few minutes earlier.
It was one of the few swear words he’d spoken aloud recently as he stood about in his gaudily decorated drawing room in the capital on Tuesday afternoon, surrounded by his drinking buddies and the like.
“Housing it for you to keep?” he questioned a few of them.
“The abode of the incapable: the kitchen slave who had the incompetence to burn water and the audacity to present themselves before a man as well-equipped as I to challenge me; a bastard royal so ashamed he’d hardly present himself in a fight, but instead would sit in the office with him documenting and cataloging files, having gone a whole lot longer since he’d seen a sword in action than he had held one; a fellow I would confidently bet my kingdom upon had not recently committed suicide by dropping said goddamn sword on his foot, and a true professional of the subject; the slave that could lop off my clavicle with one of his hands!” A gagging, gargling sound rippled through the chamber.
None among the Duke’s cronies would have given a thought to Thornwood’s true genius.
They didn’t know that Kael was busy siphoning three of the top five capital vendors, or that the transfer of said funds was routed through designated Thornwood enterprises.
Nor could they guess that Sylas, while seemingly inept, possessed a skill for dodging, working off a seven-out-of-ten engagement rate, and that the house slave, Lyra, had long perfected her skills to use frost magic in a climate-controlled underground sub-basement.
Neither the Duke, nor his cronies, nor anyone else suspected a thing.
A smirk formed on the face of the Vance family’s presumed youngest heir.
“Let them laugh,” she advised matter-of-factly as her fingers sped across the data on her ledger.
“So long as they believe they’re in control, they can’t know a damn thing about our activities—and not one thing we accomplish is remotely humorous.
They’re just distracting the people because they have space, and we have space for ourselves to do precisely as we like, completely traceless.” She then turned to look at the youthful man, who pushed up the bridge of his nose with an air of apathetic observation.
“I have recorded seventeen separate public displays of indecency toward my property over the past four days.
Six were from uncompensated loans from my personal inventory; six would-be clients have offered up payment for endorsements from my assets; two were attempts to steal from inventory; and three were attempts by third parties to sabotage my operations,” he finished calmly.
He spoke while reviewing a recorded version of the portfolio that was displayed through the use of some of the newestfangled equipment in existence—the best they had come up with, which he had even modified from how it was currently available to the general public.
“And the last four?” Elena asked, her eyes gleaming.
“Nothing remarkable.
Their weaknesses are not sufficiently apparent to overcome their solid characteristics at this moment; a simple matter of applied pressure and the exploitation of their stupidities…
My own capability to engage in combat has increased by nearly forty percent in the past two weeks.
This is literally the only metric I currently have for tracking my progress.
I’ve not improved in my strength, but my reaction time has greatly improved.” He slid one skeletal finger toward the wood grain on the table.
“When we…
when we act together, in symbiotic union…
things happen.” Elena’s hands flew like mad, furiously entering data on everything she had possibly discovered about them onto the notes tab of the portfolio.
[FACTION SYNERGY BONUS] [CONDITION: ASSET TRAINING WITHIN SAME LOCALE] [EFFECT: ASSET PROGRESS SPEED +20%] began to flash every few minutes with everything that Elena typed out.
Kael’s demonic aura was perfectly blended with Sylas’s animated movements to ensure flawless transfers of funds from the capital vendors into Thornwood’s controlled assets.
It was a remarkable display of the three of them working in coordination, and in essence, it had taken root when they arrived at Thornwood.
Sylas now held control over Kael’s plans, guiding him in the tactical deployment that had become so necessary ever since Kael had arrived at Thornwood.
He had since journeyed to the underground cold sub-levels of Thornwood, which had been maintained to their current perfection by Lyra, and was delighted to find her humming happily.
As she added still another pile of ledgers to her ever-growing collection, he handed it to her and assured her, “Continue your training until your skill improvement graph has plateaued.
Anybody you feel has to state their opinion on matters—a silken gob of simpering—handle with a smile that makes it clear you are truly happy to take care of these…
inconveniences, always.” “Acting before the actions come to light is always ideal.” That night, Elena had quietly written down notes under the sickly flicker of a kerosene lamp as the faint glow illuminated her page.
[NET WORTH: 1,240 GC] [ASSETS: 890 GC] [STATUS: THORNWOOD ESTATE] [HOLDINGS: VANCE ENTERPRISE] [ASSETS: 4] [SYNERGY: +20%] [DEATH FLAG: 168 DAYS] The abandoned young lady now took charge of what was becoming a burgeoning, potent force within Thornwood.
As she began closing her folders, she looked back upon what others perceived to be nothing more than a majestic structure, only to see a lone sentinel against the sky on top of the tallest tower.
It was a man so fluid in movement that he appeared to melt back into the dappled shade of the courtyard when he came into presence, like a moonlight glint, with an expression of utter, gleeful anticipation etched onto his features, set against the night sky of the world.
“What a night,” she simply whispered.
[TICK: FACTION SYNERGY EFFECT ESTABLISHED.
MOCKERY FROM NOBILITY SUCCESSFULLY RECORDED.
NET WORTH INDICATES RISE.
ORGANIZATION OPERATES AS A SINGLE ENTITY.]