Disregard Fantasy, Acquire Currency: 6 (Patreon)

Really been enjoying these. Looking forward to my weekends a lot more than I was. I do tend to procrastinate, and the way I've found to avoid that is making promises to people-- in this case, you fellas. Thanks for being my unwitting partners.
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“The countess will see you now,” the male attendant said, bowing fluidly and perfectly.

Willem was jealous of this attendant. It made the small package that was Dirk seem somewhat lackluster by comparison. The only thing Dirk had going for him was inquisitiveness and a little brightness. But beyond the attendant, everything here was quite nice—they’d passed through a grand courtyard, and the halls made this place match up with the Renaissance palaces of old that Willem had visited in his last lifetime.

Willem followed the attendant into a drawing room. The man bowed again, gesturing inside. Willem entered, looking around, and spotted an small old woman with wholly gray hair dressed in bold green sitting on the center of the couch. He looked back at the attendant, but the man was already closing the door. He cast a look at Dirk, then regarded the old woman.

Dirk pointed. “You look a bit too old to be my sister.”

She snapped her wrist, and a peacock feather fan sprung open.

#####

Countess Anne Claire van der Duyt stared upon this man, Willem, with a bad impression of him right out of the gate. Apparently, he’d gone around shopping with his male attendant all day, completely ignoring proper etiquette for a noble to visit the reigning house of the territory he passed through. Now, he began the conversation with those impertinent words.

When news came that one of Catharina’s brothers was in the city, she knew she had to intervene. Anne Claire didn’t know how, but that dingy, rainy territory of House van Brugh at the border of the kingdom had produced a precious little blue-eyed cherub. Catharina was sweet as an angel, pretty as a pumpkin, and entirely too naïve to meet those evil brothers of hers unprotected. The stories Catharina told about those heinous villains… they were scum. Hence, Anne Claire played a little trick. She had ‘the countess’ summon Willem.

“I am Countess Anne Claire, widow to my husband, the late Count Ventura.” Anne Claire fanned herself. “I hope you had fun roaming our city. Did you enjoy yourself in the Pearl?” She referenced a restaurant he’d visited, subtly implying she knew everywhere he’d been.

“Ah. The mother-in-law.” Dirk nodded. “Sure, the clam there was good.”

Anne Claire didn’t comment, but the clam was also her favorite.

Willem hefted the chest he held, pointing it. “May I sit down?”

He had tact enough to ask, Anne Claire noted. “You may.”

After setting the chest down, Willem took his seat. “I’m Willem, and that’s Dirk. It’s nice to meet you, miss.”

Miss? Anne Claire fanned herself a little faster. It had been decades since she’d last been called that. “What brings you to Gent?” she asked bluntly.

“If I can find something that has good value, I intend to buy a home,” Willem stated just as bluntly as she’d asked.

Anne Claire felt some small threat. If he intended to buy a home, it meant he had deeper plans. He intended to latch onto Catharina, like a parasite, surely.

She asked sharply, “And what do you intend to do in Gent?”

“That depends largely on you and your family.” Willem entwined his hands. “It could be you give me a kick in the rear and toss me to the curb, miss. But to get, you’ve gotta ask.”

Anne Claire said nothing. Willem was apparently a talented aura user—even so, it appeared he had some humility, admitting the power rested with them. He’d earned a few points saying that.

Anne Claire snapped her fan closed. “I’m listening.”

He stared into her eyes. “If possible, I’d like to get a charter or a permit—whichever’s needed—for a mutual aid society.”

Hearing the words ‘charter’ and ‘permit,’ she reevaluated this fellow. He looked like the typical sword-swinging dullard common from the van Brugh family, but she’d heard those words from ‘businessmen’ that had come to her husband, seeking his wealth. The phrase ‘mutual aid society’ brought her pause.

“Dirk, would you please?” He looked over at his attendant. As Anne Claire marveled that he used the word ‘please’ for an attendant, the man in question placed a stack of papers before her. “I’ve written down all the details of what it is there, but I’d like to tell you what it is directly, if you don’t mind.”

Anne Claire leaned forward and took the paper. The document was rather dense, written in neat script. She set it down a few moments after. “I have time to listen.”

Willem stared for three seconds before he said, “You outlived your husband, am I correct, miss?”

“Yes. He died in a monster-subjugation assault, dealing with a griffon that’d taken nest in nearby mountains.” Anne Claire narrowed her eyes. “I fail to see how that’s relevant.”

“It’s the crux of the mutual aid society I intend to create.” Willem leaned in. “Death is inevitable. Sometimes it comes very suddenly, and those around the person are unprepared or unsupported just after. With my Society of Assured Prosperity, its members would ensure that, should someone die, they’ll be looked after by the society’s members, financially and otherwise.”

Anne Claire opened her fan and covered her mouth to hide her reaction. It all sounded rather noble, and she considered briefly if she’d misjudged him. But those businessmen that had come for her husband’s wealth sounded similarly noble, only to be charlatans of the highest magnitude.

“How would your society help them?” she asked simply.

“That’s up to the members,” Willem said. “Each society member would be responsible for disclosing their plans for their children, their spouse, or even simply their friends after they pass away. The members that survive someone who passes away would then fulfill those plans to the best of their ability.”

The pragmatic in Anne Claire was a little moved—to have a close-knit group of people to help her family after she passed was something she wanted, even now. The communal aspect would force others to work hard on their behalf, as they would hope to receive the same return after their parting.

“You mentioned they’d be looked after financially,” she said, diving to the important part. Most only saw this city as a bank to withdraw money from. He mentioned a charter, but could he be here to beg for an endowment?

“Yes.” Willem nodded calmly. “Society members pay an annual fee. That money goes into a pool, to be drawn upon and paid out when one of its members passes. As the society’s treasurer, I would manage that money.”

Anne Claire snapped her fan shut. “It would be your money.”

“No.” Willem shook his head. “It’s the society’s money. I have no ownership of any of it—the details are in that document. Everything my role as treasurer would entail, and the permissions I would have, are written out. I would take two percent of the net asset value of the society.”

“T-two percent?” she repeated.

“Yes, miss.” Willem nodded. “Two percent. If there was one hundred gold in the pool, I would take two gold home a year.”

Anne Claire went silent, trying to think of some way that he might be able to weasel out some extra money from the society for himself. She snatched the documents from the table between them. This time, she actually dived into the reading. It outlined the model of the society simply enough she could understand it without having to ask questions, and thoroughly enough there seemed to be little wiggle room.

Finally, she came to the page he’d mentioned, detailing his role as treasurer. It explained he would lend out some of the money to credible people—most notably, society members themselves—to facilitate commerce, and help pay for expenses. It was just as he said. The treasurer’s pay would consist of two percent of net asset value. ‘Net asset value’ was described in clear terms, and she could find no loopholes he might exploit.

“Hold on a moment,” she said. “This says the treasurer has personal liability for losses.”

Willem nodded. “It does.”

“But… how could you… how large do you plan for this society to be? Lost loans could…” she caught herself. “Do you know the punishment for personal bankruptcy, Willem?”

“Indentured servitude. Right, Dirk?” He looked at his attendant, and the man nodded. “I’m aware.”

“This clause places you in considerable risk,” she said.

Willem smiled. “One should be willing to put themselves on the line if they’re confident in their ability. I ask a lot, so I give a lot, miss.”

“You mentioned that your clientele is intended to be wealthier people.” Anne Claire flipped back to the first page, then fingered that point. “If that’s the case, one bad loan might end with you in indentured servitude, young man.”

Willem nodded. “I understand your concern. If the treasurer goes under, it could have an adverse effect on the members.” He pursed his lips, thinking deeply. “Miss, I’d like to let you know some personal circumstances, if that’s alright.”

“Please.” She nodded.

“Baron Tielman was poisoned recently,” he said, shocking Anne Claire. His father had died? “Only some days ago, as a matter of fact. I reached an agreement with Lennard van Brugh, who became baron regent after that incident. In return for my disinheritance, he paid me a sizable sum of money. Dirk? Please, show miss Anne Claire.”

The male attendant walked to the chest Willem had been hauling around, opening it up. Anne Claire was shocked to see it brimming with gold coins, and looked at Willem with wide eyes.

“I have sufficient personal funds to cover sizable losses. I also intend on living rather frugally.” Willem shrugged. “I hope that alleviates some of your concerns, miss.”

The countess stared at Willem silently. The reason why he was doing this clicked into place in her head. After his father was poisoned, his brother immediately moved to suppress him. He forced him out of the family—an illegal thing when done by a regent, and unusual for any legitimate successor. Illegal didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. Mages and their lie detecting spells could be fooled. Perhaps the payment had facilitated that, somehow.

After being cruelly suppressed by his older brother, Willem didn’t show an ounce of outrage. Instead, he came here, naively wandering around the city with a huge chest of gold. His first thoughts weren’t to correct what had been done, or to seek revenge… but help others like himself, who experienced the death of a parent.  And his attendant… the man looked small, weak, and starved. He looked like he’d been bullied. Perhaps it was his only friend in that house of demons. Willem must’ve brought him along to save him from the terrible van Brugh family.

Anne Claire reached forth and grabbed her bell, ringing it. “Walter? Walter!” she shouted. The man entered hastily. “Fetch me ink and quill, alongside paper, immediately.” When Walter left, she looked back at Willem. “We’re making alterations.”

“Yes?” Willem tilted his head.

“We don’t need this ‘personal liability’ nonsense,” she shook her head. “I’m going to get rid of it, right away. Indentured servitude is inhumane, young man, and you’re far too talented to even think of going anywhere near it. How potent is your aura?”

Willem shrugged. “I’m not sure, miss.”

“Don’t be too humble, young man. Little Catharina says you were the most talented in the family!”  She pointed with her fan. “Lennard sounds like a parochial, insecure coward. As for your compensation… two percent of assets? Truly?”

Willem nodded. “It’s a reasonable amount.”

“Yet it’s forever. Are you sure you can’t think of something higher?” She levelled her fan at him.

“Well…” Willem stroked his chin. “How about this? Any investment performance over twenty percent at the end of the year is split with me, fifty percent.”

Anne Claire looked at him. He must’ve named such a high figure to avoid taking any money away from the society. It looked as though, just like Catharina, there was another saint in the van Brugh family. There was another she would need to play mother bear for, protecting from the cruel reality of the world.

“Does that mean you intend to give the permits?” Willem asked cautiously.

“Of course!” Anne Claire said snappily. “A simple charter is no trouble at all for my daughter-in-law’s brother. You can ask for anything.”

“Really? Well… do you think I could access census records for the city?”

“On one condition.” She slapped her closed fan against her palm. “Stay for breakfast, Willem.”

“Is that a proposition, miss?” Willem raised a brow.

“Cheeky!” She laughed. “If I were fifty years younger, perhaps. I can’t have you walking back out into the streets with that huge chest of gold. That was a foolish move, young man. Walter will prepare a room for you. Walter’s a dear. Walter!” she shouted. “Walter, get back in here!”

#####

“You look irritated, Dirk.” Willem sat on the windowsill, looking out at the count’s estate.

“Me?” Dirk tried not to frown. “No. I’m fine.”

“Are you upset I didn't hit a wall? That Anne Claire is a shrewd businesswoman. She knows what the Society of Assured Prosperity will do for commerce in the region.” He tapped his forehead. “You don’t get that old without gaining a little bit of wisdom. She can see ten steps ahead, just like me.”

Dirk couldn’t avoid frowning. “I don’t think that’s what happened.”

“Isn’t it?” Willem looked away from the window. “With her, it’s strictly business. You saw how guarded she was at the beginning. She didn’t trust me a bit. But once she saw the business plan, she asked some very prudent questions. Once her concerns were quelled, it all melted away into amicability.” He nodded. “She’s someone I can do business with. A calculating, unemotional woman.”

Dirk sighed.