Chapter 17
CYPRESS
The scroll's demands echo through my mind like a war drum as I observe the ancient parchment spread across Knox's mahogany desk.
Three days to prepare a comprehensive presentation of financial dominance, strategic conquests, and clan worthiness for a council of Orcish elders who apparently consider corporate acquisitions to be a legitimate form of ritual combat.
My tablet is already open to a fresh document, three different colored highlighters lined up beside it like soldiers awaiting deployment, and my coffee has long since gone cold because I've been too focused to drink it.
"The Council requires proof of tributary acquisition.
They will want to see the conquered territories mapped out, the resources flowing into clan coffers documented with absolute precision, and the defeated enemies catalogued by name and net worth.
In the old days, this would have been measured in cattle and grain stores and the severed heads of rival chieftains displayed on pikes.
Now it must be translated into quarterly earnings reports and market share percentages. "
"So essentially, they want a really impressive investor presentation, except instead of trying to secure funding, we're trying to prove you deserve to keep breathing and leading a clan of humans who had no idea they were being conquered in the first place.
" My highlighter hovers over a particularly dense paragraph of requirements.
"This section here mentions something about 'the ritual display of strategic superiority. ' What exactly does that entail?"
Knox stops pacing and leans over my shoulder, his breath warm against my ear as he reads the passage I've indicated.
The proximity sends a familiar shiver down my spine, but I force myself to focus on the task at hand rather than the solid wall of muscle pressing against my back.
"The display must demonstrate that our financial conquests were achieved through cunning, strength, and the complete domination of inferior opponents.
The elders wish to see that I have not grown soft in this realm of paper and coin, that I still possess the warrior's instinct even when the battlefield has shifted from blood-soaked fields to boardroom negotiations. "
"Right. So we need to make our hostile takeover look as brutal and impressive as possible while simultaneously showing that we've turned a profit.
" I grab my tablet and start creating a new folder structure, my mind already racing through the data we'll need to compile.
"I can work with that. We have all the documentation from the initial acquisition, the counter-strategies we deployed against the rival firm, the vendor negotiations, the gala client win, and of course the forensic evidence that sent Victor Ashworth to prison.
If we frame it properly, this is actually a pretty compelling narrative of corporate warfare. "
"You speak of narrative as though this were merely a story to be told.
The Council will not be satisfied with pretty words and clever framing, my valkyrie.
They will demand proof—hard numbers, undeniable evidence of financial bloodshed, the mathematical corpses of our defeated enemies laid bare before their judgment. "
I twist in my chair to look up at him, a smile tugging at my lips despite the stress of the situation.
"Knox, I'm an accountant. Hard numbers and mathematical corpses are literally my entire professional identity.
Just tell me exactly what format the Council expects, and I will build you a spreadsheet so beautiful, so comprehensive, so absolutely devastating in its precision that those elders will weep tears of joy and immediately start taking notes.
" I pause, considering. "Do Orcs weep tears of joy? Is that a thing that happens?"
“It has been known to occur in moments of great glory. My grandmother famously wept when my father presented his first successful raid report to the clan council. She claimed the formatting of his tributary calculations reminded her of the old songs."
"Then I'm going to make your grandmother's formatting look like a child's finger painting.
" I turn back to my tablet with renewed determination, pulling up the company's complete financial records from the past three months.
"Let's start with the initial conquest. When you literally broke down the boardroom door—which, by the way, we never did get around to billing for the repairs on that—what was the company's exact valuation at that moment? "
What follows is the most intense seventy-two hours of my professional life, and considering I once pulled three consecutive all-nighters to rescue a client's books from a catastrophic accounting software failure, that's saying something.
Knox and I work around the clock, pausing only for food, brief naps on the office couch, and occasional moments of stress relief that leave my carefully organized documents scattered across the floor and require significant reorganization afterward.
He explains the intricate requirements of Orcish financial presentation while I translate those requirements into the cleanest, most visually striking spreadsheets I have ever created.
The final product is a masterpiece of data visualization and strategic storytelling.
Every acquisition is mapped on an interactive timeline that resembles ancient battle formations, with color-coded arrows showing the flow of resources from defeated competitors into our growing empire.
The vendor negotiations are presented as successful diplomatic sieges, complete with before-and-after profit margins that demonstrate the superior terms we extracted through a combination of intellectual prowess and physical intimidation.
The takedown of Victor Ashworth occupies an entire section devoted to "the ritual vanquishing of dishonorable enemies," with his embezzlement schemes laid out in meticulous detail and his subsequent arrest framed as the ultimate victory of strategic justice over cowardly betrayal.
"This column here shows the projected five-year growth trajectory," I explain, pointing to a particularly elegant series of calculations as Knox reviews the presentation on the conference room's screen.
"I've cross-referenced it with industry benchmarks and historical performance data to demonstrate that our current strategy positions the company for market dominance within eighteen months.
The elders wanted proof of sustainable conquest, so I've included scenario modeling for three different economic conditions—recession, stability, and growth—showing that we maintain profitability under all circumstances. "
Knox’s hands grip the conference table, and for a moment I worry that his emotional response might result in structural damage to the furniture, but he manages to contain himself.
"Cypress. This is... this is extraordinary.
The precision of your calculations, the clarity of your visual representations, the way you have woven our conquests into a narrative of undeniable dominance— My grandmother would have adopted you on the spot and trained you as a war accountant. "
"War accountant sounds like an excellent LinkedIn title," I manage, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks despite my best efforts to remain professional.
"But we're not done yet. We still need to rehearse the actual presentation, and you mentioned that there's some kind of formal challenge-and-response portion where the elders can question our claims directly? "
His expression shifts slightly, a shadow of concern passing over his features.
"Yes. The Matriarchs will probe for weakness, seeking any inconsistency or sign of doubt.
They are masters of the verbal assault, trained from birth to identify vulnerability in both numbers and those who present them.
You must be prepared for their questions to feel personal, even cruel.
They will test not only your knowledge but your resolve. "
I straighten my spine and push my glasses firmly into place.
"Knox, I have survived seven consecutive years of IRS audits for clients who thought 'creative accounting' meant literally making up numbers.
I have faced down forensic investigators who tried to blame me for my clients' incompetence.
I have explained the concept of depreciation to CEOs who genuinely believed that assets just disappeared into thin air when they stopped wanting to think about them.
" I meet his eyes with steady determination.
"A few terrifying Orcish grandmothers asking pointed questions about our quarterly earnings are not going to break me. "
The video call is scheduled for exactly noon on the third day, and I spend the morning performing what Knox has informed me is a traditional pre-battle ritual of organization and mental preparation.
This apparently translates to me reorganizing my highlighter collection three times, stress-eating an entire sleeve of cookies, and making Knox practice his opening remarks until he can deliver them without accidentally slipping into the formal dialect of his home territory, which he assures me would be interpreted as showing off and therefore disrespectful.