“You know, maybe this King Arnoud the Blood Traitor guy isn’t so bad,” Willem said, looking out of the window of the enchanted carriage.

  Viviene studied her son. Her fifth son, as it turned out. It had been quite a monumental feat to come to terms with it, but… some trauma of the universe had sundered her son’s body in twain, spiritually speaking. The most embarrassing part of it was that it’d taken her so long to realize that fact—and she hadn’t even realized. Suzanne had simply told her. She had spoken to the other Willem—her Willem—and he’d assured her that this was what he wanted.

  Suzanne had told them about who Willem really was. For now, Catharina and her were the only others that knew—the brothers might use it to blackmail Willem, so they decided to keep it concealed. And Tielman… Viviene honestly wasn’t sure how he’d take it.

  “I mean, he sends an enchanted carriage out to fetch us,” Willem continued. “I’ve looked into how much these cost. It’s not an insignificant expense. The only transportation method less cost efficient are portals, like those Galahad uses.”

  “Are you just talking to fill the air?” Viviene snapped.

  “Yes, I am,” Willem answered as honestly as ever. “You’ve been giving me that evil eye of yours ever since you found out, and I’m minutely concerned about where things stand with us. We haven’t had a chance to talk about it.”

  “Because you’ve been working at that production facility every day!” Viviene countered. “And when you do get back, you immediately start tutoring Dirk. I hardly even see you.”

  “I’ll admit some fault. We could’ve had a ‘take your mother to work’ day,” Willem conceded. “Well, whatever. That’s done now. We’re going to the capital, and we can talk about it here and now.”

  “I’ve come to terms with it,” Viviene said, sparing them a large argument. “In Valdérie, I once saw beautiful twins that were conjoined. It’s not so different from your situation. And just like you, they whored themselves to rich merchants for exorbitant sums of money.”

  “Yeah,” Willem said with a nod. “Except one of us has narcolepsy.”

  Viviene didn’t know what that last word meant, but she didn’t want to sound stupid by asking. “It just comforts me knowing that you have someone protecting the both of you.”

  Willem stared at her. “You really came to terms with it?”

  “What?” Viviene met his gaze.

  “Shouldn’t you be angrier? I don’t know,” he gave up, looking out the window. “I never had the chance to be a parent for long.”

  “You’re just saying that so I pity you and change the subject,” Viviene said.

  “Correct.”

  Viviene sighed. “Alright, fine. Perhaps we should discuss the griffon in the room. What’s your intent for the princess?”

  “Ah, yes. The very first episode of The Bachelorette. The county fair livestock exhibit.” Willem looked at Viviene. “I’m sixty-five years older than her. You tell me what my intentions should be. I’d obviously win, but for decency’s sake, I’ll be throwing the competition.”

  “Yes, but you’re also… look at you.” Viviene gestured at him. “Catharina reads those vampire romance novels all of the time. The vampires are thousands of years older than the ladies depicted. But the suckers look like young men. Honestly, that’s all that matters.”

  “Are you serious?” Willem looked at her suspiciously.

  “It might be exciting, even. All the wisdom of an aged man, but without all of the downsides,” Viviene continued. “You don’t have to hear him complain about his back or help him wash.”

  “You washed Tielman?”

  “I was thinking of my uncle, unfortunately,” Viviene said with a sigh. “But we were talking about vampires. Frankly, the age might be a plus for her.”

  “That’s fiction,” Willem said pointedly.

  “Not all of it,” Viviene disagreed. “Some of those vampire stories are based on a true story. I’ll admit to reading a few… for educational purposes.”

  “Well…” Willem scratched his neck. “I never thought of that. I suppose vampires are real. Have you ever met one? I imagine not…”

  Viviene slammed her boots on the floor of the carriage and leaned in intensely. “Damn it, Willem. You could be king if this goes well!”

  “A literal royal we,” Willem said, gesturing to himself. “I’m aware.”

  “Doesn’t that intrigue you, excite you?” Viviene pressed.

  “Are you joking?” Willem scrunched up his face. “I’ve been offered positions like that before. People offered to make me CEO—that basically means king—of worldwide companies. Problem was, there was just so much utter trash to dredge through that it wouldn’t be fun at all. So many restrictions, traditions, rules and regulations, departments, bureaucracy. Blegh.” He mimed vomiting. “Made me sick. No—I much prefer something like the Society of Assured Prosperity. Something that I built, with the people I chose, running in the fashion I decided.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Unless this is rampant self-obsession, King Arnoud has created a very centralized kingdom,” Viviene pointed out. “You might be able to mold it as you desire.”

  “In all seriousness…” Willem looked at her with a different expression. “You don’t run a nation like you would a business. Recipe for disaster. I enjoy working within the system around me. I don’t want to make the system.”

  Viviene crossed her arms. “So… there is a shred of decency in that cold, gold heart of yours.”

  “I don’t know about decency, but I just enjoy money a great deal more than I do any other form of power,” he said decisively. “Maybe I’d do alright in the job. All I know is that I don’t really want it. Too stressful. I didn’t live to eighty-seven by deliberately giving myself agita.”

  “And what does little Willem think?” Viviene asked. “He has a say in the matter.”

  “Want me to bring him out?” Willem tapped on the ring he held.

  Viviene looked out the carriage window. “No. We’re nearly at the capital. He needs to be ready to defend you, if anything should come up.”

  Viviene studied her son. Despite that fact that Willem did very little training… his aura continued to advance and progress. It was almost astonishing how much Junior could do with such little time.

  “On that note… I wanted to make a stop once we’re inside,” Willem said, idly looking out of the window. “I’m going to be doing a lot of business in the capital, and I want to be sure that things go smoothly.”

  “What kind of a stop?” Viviene asked.

  “Going to visit one of your son’s old friends,” Willem said cryptically.

  ***

  The enchanted carriage stopped outside of the gates of the capital. It wasn’t an exceptionally long distance away from Gent, which was the port city that received all of the vast quantities of grain headed this direction. Gent might be likened to Ostia, which supplied the city of Rome with grain and salt. This city, then, was naturally the other side of that analogy.

  Passing underneath the walls alongside dozens of others, Willem thought back to his past when he’d traveled much of the world in his forties. Back then, Willem had always wondered what the grand cities serving as the capital of the empires of old had been like before being modernized—Rome, Constantinople, Cordoba, Baghdad, and all of the eastern ones that his Eurocentric brain conveniently ignored, likely to his detriment.

  Well… he certainly didn’t need to wonder anymore.

  Ravenveld—the city from which sprung the eponymously named Ravenveld dynasty—was quite the sight to behold. Most all of what he saw was built of marble, from the lowest home to the tallest estate. There were a few incredibly prominent buildings. One was a grand arena, which Viviene had told him about. The second was a church built around a towering tree whose trunk had morphed into the shape of a woman.

  The third wasn’t in the city. It was the royal palace—the closest comparison Willem could draw was the Neuschwanstein Castle, but it was far grander in scale. It was perched tall and proud on a distant hill, separate from but nevertheless overseeing the city. Notably, it didn’t have an entrance. The only way to enter the royal palace was via portals in the city and elsewhere.

  Tremendously large black banners hung from the walls, while most every house sported them just the same. The sigil of the Ravenveld family—a golden raven—could be seen on these banners as far as the eye could see. Willem didn’t know whether that was a common occurrence or recent decorations to welcome all of the prospective grooms that’d be flooding into the capital.

  “It’s almost too clean with how many people roam the streets,” Viviene said, standing at his side. “Makes me uncomfortable.”

  “I love it,” Willem said. “I really do. This… this, Viviene, has the customer base that I want,” he said, turning to her. “How much money must the people living here have? How much wealth is just sitting out there, waiting to be spent? It’s beautiful. Some of those estates have gold decorating them. How braindead is that? I love it.”

  “Right, well… don’t call them braindead too loud,” she said, pulling him to the side.

  “Their heads are probably so far up their own rear ends they can’t hear,” Willem disagreed. “Now, I got some directions from a merchant in the Society of Assured Prosperity. Let’s make that stop.”

  “So this is business?” Viviene said. “Why’d you never mention this to me until now?”

  “Because you’d flip out, I imagine,” Willem said, then continued in a baby voice, “But I’m a big boy, and I can tie my shoes on my lonesome. Mommy is going to let me make my own decisions, right?”

  “Please stop talking,” Viviene spoke quickly before he could babble more in that baby voice. “Yes, you can do what you want. I didn’t think that was a contested matter.”

  “You won’t flip?” Willem pointed. “Promise me.”

  Viviene hesitated, but eventually nodded. “I promise.”

  “Right,” he said, patting her shoulder. “Let’s go then.”

  ***

  “Arend,” someone said.

  Arend opened his eyes to see the priestess leaning over him.

  “You have visitors,” she informed him. “He says he’s an old friend from the Brugh family. His mother is here with him.”

  Godfried, Arend assumed. He closed his eyes, waiting. He wasn’t totally sure that he was ready to speak to Godfried, let alone the man’s mother. He didn’t want to talk about his attempted duel against Willem van Brugh. He was grateful that she’d stopped him from doing more damage, but he wished that Viviene had killed him. Anything would be better than this life he led now.

  “Look at you,” a male voice said. “You look like a shell. They told me it was bad, but… damn.”

  Arend turned his head, looking at who came. Willem van Brugh walked into his humble dorm, and Arend immediately sat up in his bed, eyes wide and heart beating fast.

  “See? Look how spirited he is,” Willem said, looking to Viviene. She looked incredibly angry. “I told you he’d be happy to see me.”

  Arend said nothing, his breathing rapid and panicked.

  “Let’s talk, Arend Rook,” Willem said, holding his arms out. “My would-be murderer.”