Chapter 8 A Windfall Profit
1301 Words
He scooted closer to Empress Vallier with a mischievous grin.
Elvis had already returned to Celestia Keep. With fireworks going on sale tomorrow, he needed to hurry and check on production—running out of stock would make them the laughingstock of the court.
"How many fireworks do we have left in storage?"
"Your Highness, we currently have... eight hundred crates remaining."
"What the hell happened to this week's production?" Elvis barked at the trembling eunuch.
"Your Highness... today... today you took five hundred crates. We originally had thirteen hundred..." The eunuch dropped to his knees, stammering in fear.
"Ahem. I want everyone working overnight shifts! If we fall short tomorrow..." Turning beet-red with embarrassment, Elvis gave quick orders before storming off.
That evening, every duke returning home found himself besieged by wives and concubines demanding their own romantic fireworks display.
At dawn, Denny sent officials to haul away the fireworks. Elvis trailed them to the palace gates before losing interest. Selling fireworks? That was beneath his dignity. Pocket change, really. Right now, he had bigger priorities—his future happiness.
With a dozen imperial guards in tow, Elvis marched straight to Henry's estate.
"Uncle William! Your future son-in-law comes bearing gifts!" Elvis bellowed from the gates. Moments later, Henry came barreling out.
"There's my boy! What kept you so long? This old man's been waiting forever!" Henry greeted him with a bone-crushing bear hug.
"Uncle, let's... *wheeze*... discuss business inside. One more squeeze and you'll be arranging a royal funeral!" Elvis gasped, his face turning scarlet.
Henry, being a battle-hardened veteran, had no concept of his own strength—one squeeze made Elvis feel his ribs creak.
"Heh. You scratch my back with some fireworks, and we'll talk about anything you want!" Grinning, Henry dragged him inside by the arm.
The pair wandered through the snow-dusted gardens of the James estate, where plum blossoms defied the winter chill—a breathtaking winter spectacle.
"Hah! Pretty impressive, ain't it?" Henry puffed out his chest. "Dropped a king's ransom on these gardens!"
"It's lovely," Elvis admitted, then smirked. "But it can't hold a candle to my fireworks." He laid on the fake pity thick, making Henry grit his teeth. This little punk was really laying it on thick.
"Say Uncle, you send your men to snag those fireworks yet? They oughta be selling by now."
"Heh! Was savin' the best for you! So how's my stash coming along?" Henry grinned.
"Fireworks? Piece of cake. But first... how about a peek at my blushing bride-to-be?"
Henry's face darkened instantly. "Knew you had an ulterior motive! All this 'gifting fireworks' nonsense—you're still angling for something!"
"Now now Uncle, you wound me!" Elvis feigned offense. "I'm just delivering fireworks to my dear father-in-law. And maybe getting a little peek at my future missus while I'm at it."
"Hah! In your dreams, kid!" Henry crossed his arms. "Since when does some lovesick pup come sniffing around before the wedding?"
"Auntie's got a big day coming, don't she?" Elvis waggled his eyebrows. "I've got the good stuff—fireworks that'll spell out her name in the sky!"
"Pfft! As if I need your charity!"
"Now... what if I mentioned... those special potions?"
Like clockwork, Henry's gruff expression cracked into a greedy grin. "Fine! You get one look from across the courtyard—and not a step closer! If your aunt finds out, my hide'll be hanging from the rafters."
By the time Elvis left the estate, the midday sun was blazing. Well, at least the James girl wasn't hard to look at—otherwise he'd be riding straight to the palace gates with enough fireworks to level the throne room.
Elvis made a beeline for the fireworks stall, where a crowd had formed a line that wrapped around the block. Guess last night's show really did the trick. He grabbed a random bystander. "Hey buddy, what's got everyone lined up like this?"
"You haven't heard? At the Empress's birthday banquet yesterday, His Majesty set off breathtaking fireworks in the palace. Our mistress was absolutely spellbound and made me queue up at the crack of dawn today!"
Elvis nodded wordlessly and mounted his steed.
"Aren't you going to check the shop, Your Highness?" a guardsman asked.
Shaking his head, Elvis replied, "No need. With crowds like this, the demand speaks for itself. Back to the palace!"
Meanwhile in the palace, Empress Vallier was still floating on cloud nine from last night's spectacle, her gaze at Denny overflowing with adoration.
"Darling, take a break. You've been reviewing petitions all day."
"No time for breaks—today's stack is full of nonsensical reports about 'heavenly signs.' Incompetent fools!" Denny hurled the documents to the floor.
"Oh hush now, why fuss? If they call fireworks auspicious, so be it. I find them utterly divine," the Empress cooed, enchanted as if still watching those celestial sparks.
"Her Majesty's just overexcited. She'll calm down in a few days," Elvis interjected with characteristically ill-timed remarks.
"My precious boy!" Vallier squeezed him breathless in her arms, peppering his face with kisses.
"Ahem. Just a passing exhilaration, nothing worrisome," Elvis coughed.
"Look who's talking! Your mother hasn't slept a wink, yet she's positively glowing. If anything happens—" Denny glowered.
"Heh... just minor aftereffects..."
"Spit it out—why are you here?" Denny set down his brush, fixing his son with a stare.
"So... how much did the fireworks earn today?"
"Oh, chump change really. A paltry seven or eight hundred thousand strings of cash."
"SEVEN HUNDRED THOUSAND?!" Elvis leaped up as if scalded. The booming sales were expected, but this haul dwarfed his most optimistic projections.
"Well, what can I say? Last night, every noblewoman in Valkaris was utterly dazzled. Your Uncle Christian refused to buy the fireworks at first, claiming they were too expensive—but this morning, he showed up at court with a face full of bruises. Just today alone, the ministers forked over half a million strings of cash, and we still can't keep up with the demand!" Denny beamed with pride.
"Then where's my cut? We agreed to split the profits fifty-fifty."
Hearing this, Denny rose from his chair, strolled over, and dropped a heavy hand on Elvis's shoulder. "You're still young. Let your old man hold onto this money for you. Once you're married, I'll give it all back."
"Nice try, old man!" Elvis slammed his teacup down and shot to his feet, face red with anger.
"Too much coin in your hands at this age will only lead you astray," Denny said, putting on his best fatherly concern act.
Elvis's mouth twisted into a sly grin. "Did you really think I wouldn't have a backup plan, Father?" In his mind, he summoned the system, erasing every trace of the fireworks formula from everyone's memories.
Denny froze. "What kind of backup? I memorized the formula myself!"
"Think harder, Father. Still remember it now?"
"What in the—? Where's the formula? What did you do, you little brat? Where's my formula?!"
Denny's expression morphed into panic. The recipe had vanished from his mind like smoke. In a panic, he fumbled at his robes, searching for the hidden copy in his chest pocket.
"Where is it?!"
Without another word, Elvis turned and strode back to his palace.
Snapping back to his senses, Denny immediately summoned the eunuchs who had worked on the fireworks—only to be met with a chorus of trembling voices: "Your Majesty, we've... forgotten everything."
Back in Celestia Keep, Elvis winced, massaging his temples. Erasing those memories had set him back a whopping two thousand rage points. Now his pockets were emptier than a church mouse's pantry. If I don't squeeze every last coin from the old man this time, I'm not human.
- Writer
