Tension crackled in the air.
Nora and Roblan exchanged uncomfortable glances.
"Our engagement serves multiple practical purposes," Jolthar responded calmly before Cleora could escalate the confrontation. "It provides me legal standing within Tekkora's administrative structure, discourages political interference from opportunistic suitors, and creates stability during a period of significant transformation." ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ novęlfire.net
"A remarkably calculated description of betrothal," Lord Bertelot observed dryly.
"Would you prefer poetic fantasies over practical reality?" Jolthar's tone remained respectful but firm.
"You're a businessman, Lord Bertelot. You understand that sometimes unconventional arrangements yield optimal results."
The older man leaned back, studying Jolthar with new interest. "My daughter is not a business arrangement."
"No," Jolthar agreed. "She is a respected leader implementing a vision that will transform this region's economic landscape. My commitment is to that vision and to Tekkora's success."
A subtle distinction—pledging himself to Tekkora rather than personally to Cleora—that wasn't lost on anyone at the table.
Lord Bertelot's expression remained unreadable as he absorbed this.
"And if I refuse financial assistance?" he challenged. "What becomes of this grand vision, then?"
"We adapt," Jolthar replied without hesitation. "The hunt I recently led has secured meat supplies, reducing our food expenditures by thirty percent. Agricultural initiatives are underway to further reduce costs. Production timelines would extend, but the fundamental model remains sound."
"So you don't need my gold after all?" Lord Bertelot's tone was sceptical.
"Need? No. But optimal execution would benefit from it." Jolthar leaned forward slightly. "The question isn't whether Tekkora will succeed—it will. The question is whether House Aravain will participate in that success and the profits it generates."
Bold words bordering on arrogance, but delivered with such matter-of-fact confidence that they carried weight beyond Jolthar's years. Lord Bertelot's eyes narrowed, reassessing the young man before him.
"Several merchant houses have expressed interest in securing exclusive purchasing rights for our first production run," Jolthar continued. "Such arrangements typically include significant advance payments."
"At discount rates that would slash your profit margins," Lord Bertelot countered immediately.
"True. Less optimal than patient capital from investors who understand long-term value." Jolthar's implication was clear: a family member should offer better terms than outside merchants.
"You presume much, boy." Yet, despite his words, Lord Bertelot's tone had shifted from dismissive to evaluative.
He was now engaging as one merchant to another.
"I presume only that you recognize opportunity when presented with it." Jolthar held the older man's gaze. "The question is whether personal feelings toward your daughter outweigh your business acumen."
The blunt statement landed like a stone in still water.
Cleora inhaled sharply while Nora's eyes widened at Jolthar's directness.
Roblan looked ready to dive under the table.
Lord Bertelot's face darkened momentarily, then—unexpectedly—he laughed.
A short, sharp bark without much humour, but genuine nonetheless.
"Bold. Very bold." He shook his head slightly. When I enquired about you, they said one thing.
'Dangerous', they called you. 'Too clever by half.' I see they weren't entirely wrong."
Jolthar raised an eyebrow.
Just where did he enquire about me?
"Tell me, what if you haven't left your family and only came here and spun all those lies to take over this venture? Your grandmother was interested in making this barony come under the clan years ago."
"My grandmother's assessments typically reflect her interests rather than objective reality."
"On that point, we find rare agreement." Lord Bertelot reached for his wine.
"The old spider spins webs across half the continent. Your presence in my daughter's barony suggests her reach extends even here."
"My grandmother arranged nothing regarding my presence in Tekkora," Jolthar stated firmly.
"In fact, my decision to leave House Kaezhlar was specifically to escape her manipulations."
Lord Bertelot studied him over the rim of his wineglass. "Yet, conveniently, you've secured position, title, and influence in a developing territory. One might wonder if you've merely exchanged one web for another of your own design."
"One might wonder many things," Jolthar replied evenly. "I concern myself with actions and results rather than speculation."
"As should any merchant worth his ledger." Lord Bertelot set down his glass with deliberate precision.
"Very well. Let us discuss terms."
The shift was abrupt but decisive.
Nora straightened, sensing the transaction was moving to its critical phase.
"I propose a direct investment rather than a loan," Lord Bertelot continued.
"Twenty-five percent ownership stake in the forge operation—not the barony itself—in exchange for immediate capital infusion sufficient to complete construction and initiate production."
Cleora began to object, but Jolthar raised his hand slightly—a request for patience that she reluctantly heeded.
"Fifteen percent stake," he countered. "With proportional profit distribution but no operational control. Investment funds released immediately with no contingency clauses."
Lord Bertelot's lips thinned. "Twenty percent stake. Advisory position on operational decisions. Funds released in two phases—sixty percent immediately, the remainder upon confirmation of production capability."
"Eighteen percent stake," Jolthar countered.
"Advisory position limited to distribution and marketing aspects only. Funds released seventy-five percent immediately, remainder upon forge structural completion—not production verification, which would unnecessarily delay timelines."
Lord Bertelot studied him with newfound respect, recognizing the tactical precision of each counter.
After a moment's consideration, he nodded once.
"Acceptable, with one addition: House Aravain receives preferred pricing on the first production run, at fifteen percent below market rates, up to a maximum of five tonnes."
"Ten percent below market," Jolthar adjusted, "with a three-tonne maximum. And House Aravain provides preferential access to eastern shipping routes for our exports."
A thin smile crossed Lord Bertelot's face—acknowledgement of a worthy negotiator.
The tension in the room dissipated like morning mist under strong sunlight.
Nora released a breath she'd apparently been holding throughout the exchange, while Roblan looked between Jolthar and his grandfather with undisguised amazement.
Lord Bertelot turned to his daughter with what almost passed for approval. "Your choice of fiancé brings unexpected advantages, Cleora. The young man possesses a merchant's mind behind his warrior's bearing."
"Jolthar has proven his value to Tekkora many times over," Cleora replied diplomatically, though a hint of smugness crept into her tone.
"Indeed." Lord Bertelot rose, signalling the discussion's conclusion.
"Have formal documentation prepared by morning. For now, show me these ambitious construction projects. I would see exactly what my gold purchases were."