Llane's brow furrowed so hard it could crush walnuts. "What in the Light's name is he trying to do now?"
Though the king wasn't exactly a maritime scholar, he knew one thing for certain: even the venerable Port of Menethil made do with good ol' wooden docks. Only Kul Tiras, with its bloated navy and ships the size of small castles, dared to go full stone.
Anduin Lothar, trying not to grin like a fool, clasped his hands behind his back. "Your Majesty, I had the same concerns. But then... he made a counteroffer."
"He pledged a full, upfront tribute to fund the construction of a sixteen-ship navy. Medium-sized sailing vessels, to be ordered from Kul Tiras. Cannons from Ironforge. Crews supplied by us. Training? Paid for by him."
Llane blinked. Once. Twice. Then leaned forward like a lion sniffing raw meat. "You're saying he's bankrolling our entire navy?"
Stormwind, rich in coastline but poor in seafaring teeth, had long sat as a landlubber kingdom. Lothar had dreamed of a navy strong enough to make pirates rethink their life choices. Now, it seemed, Duke was offering that dream on a silver platter.
Llane narrowed his eyes. "And what does the boy want in return?"
Llane blinked again. "Come again?"
"He wants to launch a perfume line. Exclusive rights for a hundred years. The brand name... Chanel."
"...That's not a spell?"
"Not unless the spell makes you fall in love and throw money out the window."
Llane exhaled hard through his nose, rubbing his temples. "Anything else?"
Lothar tapped the polished table with a finger. "He wants to build a wizard tower. A big one. One that could rival Karazhan."
Now that earned a sharp grin from the king. Ah, Duke and his delusions of grandeur. Wanting to surpass Medivh? Good luck, boy.
But a tower like Karazhan? That required gold. Oceans of gold. Enough to make even the kingdom's treasury weep.
"He's got ambition," Llane muttered. "And a sense of theatrics. I like that."
"So... shall we approve it?"
Llane stood up, gazing out at the moonlit courtyard. "I'll sleep on it."
He didn't sleep long.
That night, returning to his chambers, Llane was assaulted—pleasantly—by a soft, alluring scent. It was sweet, exotic, and made his blood pressure spike in a way his physicians wouldn't approve.
"What... what is that divine fragrance?" he murmured, sniffing the air like a hungry wolf.
The queen, lying coyly on the bed in a lace nightgown, tilted her head and smiled. "A little something called Chanel."
Llane's jaw dropped. "By the Light! That boy! He bribed you before me?"
"Mmm, he knows who truly holds the power." She winked. "Do you like it?"
"Like it?! Woman, you smell like temptation incarnate!"
And just like that, diplomacy took a very physical turn.
The next morning, Anduin Lothar found the king walking stiffly, wearing a high-collared tunic despite the spring heat. He arched a brow.
"Rough night, Your Majesty?"
Llane scowled. "Damn you and your clever observations."
"So, what's your decision?"
"We'll approve it. But he's not getting off that easily. I want him to also fund the restoration of the city walls. Consider it... protection tax."
"Ah, the brilliance of your strategy shines brighter than the midday sun."
"Spare me the flattery, Anduin. You're the one who begs me every month for wall-repair funds."
The two men shared a hearty laugh, echoing off the stone walls of the palace.
Meanwhile, when the king's counter-offer reached Duke, Makaro and Windsor practically exploded.
"The king's bleeding you dry! This is extortion!"
Duke, ever calm, just smiled. "Reggie, take this message back. Tell them... I accept."
Windsor nearly choked on his own spit. "You what?"
"But—but the taxes, the navy, the docks, the perfume, and now this?"
Duke's gaze drifted to the skyline of Stormwind, its spires glowing in the dawn light. "Money can always be made. But second chances? You miss them, they're gone forever."
Neither Makaro nor Windsor understood. To them, Duke was just another eccentric mage, mysterious and infuriatingly vague. But to Duke, this was more than business. It was redemption.
He remembered well the fall of Stormwind in his previous life. The screams. The fire. The blood.
He didn't know if changing the course of history was possible. But he damn well was going to try.
Thus, he let Llane "bleed" him.
Better bled by a king than drowned by fate.
Soon, the news spread through the capital. Fishermen whispered it in pubs. Nobles smirked over wine. Dockworkers shouted it with glee.
Stormwind had a new hero.
And so, the legend grew.
He who hunted whales, tamed murlocs, seduced royalty with perfume, and bribed a kingdom into progress.
All while planning to become the greatest wizard tower Azeroth would ever see.
Duke was just getting started.