The private room was a study in understated opulence—ornate wood paneling, velvet drapes, and the soft hum of old wealth. Tyra trailed silently behind me, her presence as sharp and composed as ever. My eyes landed on the woman seated across from the polished mahogany table, and I inclined my head in a deep bow.
"I greet the Chancellor of the Slatemark Empire, Lady Amelia."
Amelia von Vexis was a woman who could command a room with nothing but the quiet assurance in her amber eyes. Her violet tresses, a shade so striking it seemed almost unnatural, cascaded down her back in effortless waves. Though she didn't rise, her gaze alone carried enough weight to make the air feel heavier.
"Guildmaster Arthur," she said with a smile as precise as her reputation. She gestured lightly to the couch opposite her, her nails tapping a measured rhythm against her porcelain teacup. "Please, have a seat."
I obeyed, lowering myself onto the couch with a slight nod, while Tyra remained standing behind me. Amelia's gaze lingered, assessing me with a calmness that bordered on dissection. This was a woman who had risen to become the youngest chancellor in the Empire's history, a title earned not by chance but by an intellect as formidable as her influence. Fifth in power only to the Emperor himself and the highest-ranking nobles of the realm, she was not someone to underestimate.
"I hear Noctalis is making waves," she remarked, her voice serene, as if discussing the weather.
"Yes," I said simply, meeting her gaze. "And I've come to discuss an opportunity with you. I propose exclusive military contracts with the Imperial Family—for the army, navy, and air force. I want the Empire's military to adopt aetherite across all branches, supplied exclusively by Noctalis."
She raised an eyebrow, her teacup pausing mid-air. "You ask for the impossible."
I remained silent, allowing her to elaborate. Her expression didn't waver as she set the cup down on its saucer with an almost imperceptible clink.
"Our military is bound by long-standing contracts with Ferraclysm for the development and supply of military technology," she explained, her tone as even as ever. "Additionally, the Tower of Magic oversees a significant portion of our strategic research. These contracts are deeply entrenched in our budget and bureaucracy. Breaking them would cost trillions in penalties."
"And yet, I'm asking you to do precisely that," I said, leaning forward. Her amber eyes flickered with a spark of surprise, though her composure remained intact.
"You want me to divert a substantial portion of the military budget to cover penalties that size?" she asked, her voice tinged with incredulity.
"Not exactly," I said, allowing a small smile to creep onto my lips. "The contracts with Ferraclysm grant them exclusive rights to supply all existing military technology. But aetherite isn't about making the same weapons better—it's about creating an entirely new generation of technology. Revolutionary, not iterative. Your contracts don't account for that. It's a loophole."
Her lips parted slightly as she absorbed my words. "A loophole," she repeated, almost to herself. "Aetherite doesn't merely improve existing technology; it redefines the very foundation of it. The contract remains intact, but its relevance… diminished."
"Precisely," I said. "Once you see the results aetherite can achieve, Ferraclysm will become obsolete. When that happens, you'll have every reason to replace them with Noctalis."
She studied me for a long moment, her amber gaze probing. "And you also want the Empire's guarantee against sanctions?"
"Yes," I replied without hesitation. "With your backing, we can stabilize our expansion and accelerate the Empire's strategic advantage."
Amelia's smile returned, sharp as a dagger concealed beneath silk. "And why would I do that?"
In response, I slid an envelope across the table. Her slender fingers picked it up, breaking the seal with a fluid motion. Her expression remained inscrutable as she scanned the contents, but I didn't miss the faint widening of her eyes or the tightening of her grip.
When she finally set the paper down, she fixed me with a look that was equal parts amusement and disbelief. "You… are a madman, Arthur Nightingale."
"Perhaps," I admitted, leaning back with a faint smirk. "But it's a calculated madness."
Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before she exhaled, the tension around her shoulders easing. "Even so, I'll need to see the details of the contract before I bring this to the Minister of Defence. This is a game played on a knife's edge, Guildmaster, and I don't play to lose."
"Neither do I," I replied, my voice calm but resolute. "I'll have the documents sent to you immediately."
Amelia gave a single, measured nod. "Good. Then, let us see if your aetherite can truly live up to its promise."
The meeting concluded with a polite exchange of parting words, but as Tyra and I stepped out into the crisp air of the Imperial complex, I felt the weight of what had just transpired. This was no ordinary negotiation. This was the start of a war—not of swords or spells, but of influence and innovation.
And in this war, there was no room for failure.
__________________________________________________________________________________
After Arthur and Tyra left, the room fell into a rare and profound silence. Amelia von Vexis, Chancellor of the Slatemark Empire, remained seated, her amber eyes fixed on the document Arthur had slid across the table. A soft smile curved her lips, her fingers tracing the edge of the paper as though it held a secret meant only for her.
"A madman," she murmured to herself, the word carrying more amusement than derision.
And yet, the line between a madman and a revolutionary was often razor-thin. Those who dared to upend the status quo were rarely greeted with cheers of approval—they were met with skepticism, resistance, and accusations of lunacy. But history, Amelia knew, had a tendency to favor the bold.
With a measured breath, she leaned back in her chair and retrieved her sleek, high-tech phone. The screen illuminated, casting a cool glow over her face as she navigated her contacts. Her finger hovered momentarily before selecting a name: Minister of Defence.
The line connected with a faint chime, and a gravelly voice answered on the second ring. "Chancellor," the Minister said, his tone both deferential and curious. Calls from Amelia were never frivolous, and he knew better than to waste her time with pleasantries.
"Minister," she began, her voice smooth and deliberate, "I need a moment of your time to discuss a matter of significant importance. It concerns the future of our military contracts."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a low hum of consideration. "Go on."
Amelia's smile widened. She leaned forward slightly, as though the weight of her conviction could travel through the call. "Noctalis has presented a proposition. Aetherite—the substance they've recently introduced to the market—represents a technological leap unlike anything we've seen. They propose exclusive contracts for the development and supply of military applications. Revolutionary applications."
The Minister's voice sharpened. "You're suggesting we replace Ferraclysm? Do you realize the scope of what you're asking?"
"I do," Amelia replied evenly, her tone unyielding. "And so does Arthur Nightingale. The terms he's offering exploit a loophole in our existing agreements with Ferraclysm. Aetherite isn't an enhancement of existing technology—it's an entirely new paradigm. Legally, we're well within our rights to proceed without penalties."
The Minister exhaled, the sound heavy with skepticism. "You expect me to gamble our national security on the promises of a single guild?"
Amelia allowed a moment's pause, her eyes narrowing slightly as she chose her words. "Noctalis isn't just any guild. They've already seized a significant share of the global market. Their products are cheaper, more effective, and supported by infrastructure that rivals our largest corporations. Arthur's foresight in creating a supply chain, one that bypasses the Twelve Great Guilds, has left them scrambling."
"And what if Ferraclysm retaliates?" the Minister pressed.
"They will," Amelia acknowledged, her voice unwavering. "But this isn't just about military contracts. This is about positioning the Slatemark Empire at the forefront of a technological revolution. Ferraclysm has grown complacent, relying on their monopoly. Noctalis, on the other hand, is hungry. And hunger breeds innovation."
The Minister fell silent, and for a moment, Amelia imagined she could hear the wheels turning in his mind.
"Send me the details," he said finally. "If the contract is sound, we'll sign it."
Amelia's smile returned, a glimmer of satisfaction lighting her amber eyes. "I'll have it on your desk by the end of the day."
The call ended with a soft click, and Amelia set her phone down with a practiced grace. She turned her attention back to the paper in her hand, the details of Arthur's bold plan etched onto the page like a map to an uncharted future.
"Ferraclysm won't know what hit them," she said quietly, her voice tinged with both admiration and amusement.
Rising from her chair, she walked to the window of her office, the vast cityscape of the Imperial Capital stretching out before her. Aetherite's glow was already beginning to reshape the world, and Amelia could see the outlines of a new era emerging through the cracks in the old.
History would remember this moment. And if Arthur Nightingale was truly the madman she believed him to be, it would remember him too.