Chapter 24 Profitable Rumors
The main military barracks smelled disgusting.
Stale sweat, cheap tobacco, and spilled booze.
In the officers' lounge, guys weren't reading the fancy morning papers; they were shouting over drinks and trading whatever garbage rumors they heard from the palace staffers.
An old general with a nasty scar cutting across his temple slammed his iron cup on the table.
"You guys hear about the Varannes girl? The one at the Empress's garden party."
The noisy table went quiet. Soldiers love a good story, especially when it involves a high-ranking noble girl ruining a crazy expensive silk dress just to stop a royal disaster.
"The Ilse girl?" a younger captain asked, leaning in. "Word is she didn't even blink when the Crown Prince started throwing a tantrum at the gate. Just stood her ground."
The general laughed, a rough, gravelly sound. "That's not just calm, kid. That's massive balls. Most girls in that court are just walking porcelain dolls, but she actually has some grit. I hear she's already fixing her family's mess of a budget, too."
I had no idea these meatheads were even talking about me. Right now, I was sitting in my own study, staring at the accounting ledgers, and for once, my head didn't feel like it was going to explode. The gossip was actually working in my favor.
Suddenly, all those old military guys and snobby nobles wanted to do business with us.
My dad, who used to be a total joke who only knew how to gamble and ignore bills, was suddenly getting buried under contracts for wood and iron supplies for the army barracks.
Merchants were practically begging to work with the Varannes house now.
They figured if I had the spine to stand up to the Prince for what was right, our family must have crazy high integrity in business.
The cash was rolling in. Years of old, terrifying debts? Paid off in a matter of days.
The whole house felt different. Less like a graveyard, more alive. And today, a fancy carriage pulled up to the front doors. Out stepped a middle-aged woman in a fancy blue velvet dress.
My mom, Real Ilse mom, I mean.....
She was finally back from her endless vacation at some mountain resort. When I walked down to the parlor, she didn't give me the usual 'you're a useless, spoiled brat' look. She actually rushed over and threw her arms around me.
"Ilse!" she gasped, her eyes tearing up. "My cousin in the capital told me everything. The party, the business booming... Everyone is talking about how smart and brave you've become."
She grabbed my face with both hands. "My little girl who used to just lock herself away and cry is finally growing up. I'm so proud of you."
It felt weird, i don't know her before. For once, the muscle memory in this body didn't feel toxic or resentful.
It was just a normal mom being genuinely happy.
She didn't know about the dark subplots, or the fact that Claus d'Alen?on was currently in town ready to murder me.
To her, I was just a good daughter. I hugged her back, letting myself relax for like, five minutes.
The second she went upstairs to unpack, the smile dropped off my face.
Back to reality. I sat back down at my desk, grabbed a scrap piece of paper, and started aggressively scratching down notes.
A good reputation was a decent shield, but Claus didn't care about public opinion or how much timber my dad sold to the army.
If that psycho wanted my head, he'd just take it.
I scribbled down my chaotic game plan,
i just need to hide the money, make sure to Stash the new profits into small properties and assets that military intelligence can't easily track.
Just in case I need to pack a bag and run in the middle of the night.
then, i must Suck up to the old generals, Make sure their pockets depend on my family's trade.
If Claus tries to touch me, he'll have to deal with a bunch of angry, greedy old veterans first.
last, i must Find Claus's dirty secret. Everyone has a secret or a weakness.
I need to use my informant network to find whatever makes that scary bastard sweat.
I stared at the messy ink scribbles. This wasn't a romance game anymore.
It was pure survival. I wasn't going to let the original Ilse's execution plot happen.
If he wanted to draw his sword on me, I'd make sure he had a thousand reasons to hesitate first.
I blew out the desk candle and stared into the dark courtyard.
Let's see what you got, Duke. I'm ready.