"I need a drink..." he explained.
"We have everything you could want. Name it, and it will be here."
"Then get me a small cup of ale. Cold."
Baron Gorath Maddach nodded and gestured to his servant by the door.
He had expected the Vox Imperium to ask for an expensive wine. He had even procured an Imperial-grade wine for the occasion.
Guess I get to keep that for myself then…
As the servants returned, they carefully poured ale into large glass mugs.
"Leave and close the door," the Vox Imperium ordered.
As the door shut behind them, he took a sip of the ale and removed his headwear, placing it on the table.
"House Maddach's future is looking good—so far," he commented.
Gorath smiled. "I'm glad you think that way."
"Although… I have heard of some problems recently."
The Baron knew exactly what he was referring to.
Though the commoners were unaware, the other Major Houses and many high-ranking Imperial officials had already caught wind of Liam's upcoming expulsion from House Maddach.
"That will not be a problem for much longer, Your Grace."
"I've heard… How many shares does your house own in the Mercantile Authority?"
Baron Gorath immediately recognized the question for what it was—a test.
And not a difficult one.
The Vox Imperium already knew the answer. He simply wanted to confirm that Gorath was competent enough to keep track of such things.
"8.67 percent, Your Grace."
"Not a bad number." He nodded.
The Mercantile Authority—or more formally, the Imperial Mercantile Authority (IMA)—was an institution created by the God Emperor himself to regulate and control the mining and distribution of mana ore.
Mana was the most important substance on the planet.
And the only entity with authority over it was the Mercantile Authority.
"We have made sure to prioritize our investments in the Mercantile Authority," Gorath assured him.
"As you should." The Vox Imperium took another sip, then let out a small chuckle. "You know, Baron, I have stayed sober all my life, despite drinking regularly. But after tonight's news… I might actually get drunk."
This was odd.
Not even Calculor Cheng had predicted this.
The Calculor had briefed Gorath in advance, warning him that the Vox Imperium would speak only of business. That he should only engage in discussions related to House Maddach or Imperial affairs.
Nothing personal.
But this…
Pushing the mug of ale aside, the Vox Imperium exhaled sharply. "That's enough for me." He dusted off his sleeves and stood.
"Just a tip—get ready for war."
Gorath stiffened.
The Vox Imperium straightened his coat as he walked toward the door, then turned back.
"When this announcement reaches the public… everything will change."
The Baron remained seated, watching as the Imperial Guards escorted the Vox Imperium out.
His mind raced.
Calculor Cheng does not make mistakes…
If his Calculor's predictions were inaccurate, then something drastic must have changed.
What is in that announcement?
As his servant re-entered the room, Gorath ordered, "Call Cheng to my office."
***
Cheng fidgeted his fingers more chaotically than usual.
"What?" he asked, his voice clipped.
Gorath leaned forward, arms on the table. "I don't know what this means. But seeing you this oblivious… is freaking me out, Cheng."
The Calculor mumbled to himself, pacing the room, rubbing his fingers together as he processed.
"An emotional Vox Imperium... No, that can't be… But the Baron wouldn't lie… Maybe the ale? No… it wouldn't be enough. Unless—" He stopped.
"Unless what?" Gorath pressed.
Cheng's shoulders sagged.
"I… don't know."
That was the first time Gorath had ever heard him say those words.
Seeing Cheng's blank stare directed at the floor, Gorath sighed, forcing a smile.
"It's fine. It's not your fault."
Cheng slowly raised his head, looking directly at the Baron.
"I have led wars. I have predicted every major outcome against every worthy adversary. I have not made a mistake." He started rubbing his hands together faster, his breathing growing heavier.
"What else did he say?"
Gorath's expression darkened.
"Prepare for war. That was his advice."
Gorath extended his hand toward the Calculor.
"Can I trust you to do that?"
Cheng stared at it for a moment. Then, for the first time since entering the office—he smiled.
He clasped Gorath's hand.
"My services are at your disposal, my fief."
***
The table was long.
Slowly, the family members gathered.
Direct children of Gorath. Consorts. Distant relatives.
Lady Rhyla Maddach, Gorath's wife, stood proudly beside their third son, Lord Valen Maddach.
Valen had fulfilled all the necessary criteria to be a worthy heir to the Baronship.
Everyone at the table knew it.
There was no point in contesting it.
Not that it stopped some from dreaming.
Dreams that were worth nothing.
But whatever ambitions the others held, their attention quickly shifted elsewhere.
"He's here!"
Whispers and hushed chatter rippled through the dining hall.
Sera walked beside Liam as he entered.
The moment he raised his hand, displaying the House Maddach Crest on his ring finger, the room fell into a tense silence.
No one spoke to him.
But their eyes said everything.
Disdain. Mockery. Contempt.
However, as he walked closer, their expressions changed.
Surprise.
Confusion.
Most of them were staring at his bald head.
Lady Rhyla leaned toward her knight, whispering, "Doesn't he look like a gangster?"
Just the simple act of shaving his head and dressing properly had shifted his entire image—from a lazy, gluttonous disgrace to something… different.
Not intimidating.
Not respectable.
But different.
Even as he walked toward his custom-made chair, they still looked at him as nothing.
'Why the hell should I take all this blame…' Liam shook his head, lowering himself into the seat.
Then, almost instantly—
Their gazes turned away from him.
And Liam felt it.
A pulling presence.
He wasn't the only one who noticed.
Everyone else turned toward the entrance.
"The Baron is here!"
One of the elders cheered, raising his wine glass.
The air shifted.
Gorath entered with open arms, greeting his elders with warm embraces.
Then, as he moved past them—
The hugs turned into handshakes.
Handshakes with his nephews.
Handshakes with his children—each one receiving a warm smile.
Then, finally—
Gorath reached Liam.
And he skipped past him.
Liam watched as his father extended his hand—
To Sera instead.
Liam kept smiling.
He expected this.
If he had been in Gorath's position—if he knew who originally owned this body—
He would have done the exact same thing.
The Baron continued forward, reaching his wife.
He kissed her hand.
Then, he turned to his son—Valen.
The moment their eyes met, Gorath softened.
Then, he pulled Valen into a tight embrace.
To an outsider, it would have seemed like a simple act of affection.
But to everyone at the table—
To everyone except Liam—
It was something else.
A declaration.
An heir to the Baronship had been chosen.