Chapter 83: Vulture Capitalism (Patreon)

The largest benefit to being involved in politics, in Willem’s view, was the beautiful prospect of insider trading. Usually, people were left to figure these trifling geopolitical crises out on their own. They had to assess the situation, analyze the risk, decide how much to invest, and puzzle out if more information would come out later that changed things. When one was on the inside, actually making things happen, they could move long before anyone else could to scoop up all of the valuable deals. What made it even better in this case—there wasn’t any pesky government oversight to actually punish him.

In the wee hours of the morning after Sarah had secured the aid of the crown princess, effectively cutting Willem out of the deal, he and Viviene boarded an enchanted carriage and headed for the Dubois territories. In truth, he was somewhat glad to have this getaway. He was greatly dissatisfied that Sarah and Clara had cut him out of the deal. Whenever he encountered emotional problems, he liked to throw himself into business until the emotional damage wasn’t as fresh. It was a hell of a lot easier than actually dealing with the problem.

Only problem was… he had company concerned for his well-being. It was very annoying.

As Willem took an assessment of one of the many olive plantations that he purchased a stake in, Viviene trail behind him. He tried to make it look as though he was assessing the olives’ quality, but in truth, he had no damn clue what made an olive good or bad.

“You’re truly considering consorting with that chimera after what she did to Baptiste?” Viviene asked. “Suzanne told me that Galahad told her that you said you were interested in reigniting things with her. And… this whole time, she was your collaborator? You were working with her?”

Willem barely regarded her as he plucked an olive from the tree and popped it in his mouth. “You see, this is your problem. We’re over here at an olive planation, and you’re talking about what you heard in the grapevine. Get your head in the game, lady.”

The first time he requested that, Viviene looked a little upset, but she did concede. They got to work dealing with the olive plantations—the most important part of this whole thing to him.

It was easy pickings. The vast array of olive estates that the Dubois family owned lingered in uneasy limbo. Willem, though a very minor stakeholder, was accompanied by Viviene Dubois who was a member of the family. The managers were eager for direction. He asserted soft control, ensuring that he had a working relationship with just about everyone involved in the vast farms.

While Willem remained a minor stakeholder, tying himself personally with the managers would prove invaluable for the fight that came ahead.  They knew him, knew who he was, and knew the business that he engaged in. They knew him to be reliable. Indeed, there was very little disruption to the supply chain whatsoever. Willem secured tremendously beneficial trade arrangements, some agreeing to supply his soap manufactory with olive oil for up to two years at steeply discounted prices. The people that worked here wanted certainty that they would still have a job two years from now even if that meant a little less bang for their buck.

Once the countryside estates were settled, Willem and Viviene headed for the grand capital of Dubois. Arriving there, he could see why Viviene and Baptiste both were so arrogant about their heritage.

The city of Dubois rose elegantly from the banks of a river, its skyline an array of steep blue-tiled rooftops and slender marble spires that resembled polished ivory. The majority of the towers had wrought-iron balconies which teemed with flowering vines. If Willem were to draw a comparison, he would describe it as if Rome and the mythical Hanging Gardens of Babylon had been merged into one. The city, unlike all others that he’d seen, had no walls.

Inside the city proper, the sights remain just as splendid: artfully cobbled streets, marble fountains with statues of the nameless goddess pouring water, and grand churches with belltowers. The palace of the Dubois family—who’d once been kings and queens—overlooked the city from its highest hill. It was a mansion of marble, silver, and emerald. Willem and Viviene were welcomed inside, where they walked through halls of polished marble floors, pale silks, and ivory carvings. Pale blue crystals hung as chandeliers. It didn’t take long after entering to see some of the eunuchs that Willem had been told about.

They were greeted by the regency council that Baptiste Dubois had created to rule in his stead while he sojourned in the capital. Viviene seemed to take special pleasure in delivering the news that Baptiste had been arrested for treason against the crown. The only person who seemed to be happy that he had been captured was his wife, who had apparently endured an assassination attempt not days ago.

The king had vested Viviene with full authority to assume control and settle affairs while the crown decided what to do with the Duke of Dubois’ territory. She didn’t wait long in ordering every single member of the regency council placed in prison ‘pending investigation’ until further notice. Coupled with some support from the king’s men, all of the minor lords were quick to get in line. Viviene was quite forceful and authoritative, and Baptiste’s children were too young to oppose her.

“If I don’t just throw the former regents in prison, we’ll waste all our time dealing with petty schemes to assert control. I’ll let them out when we’re done,” Viviene justified to him. “But if you want my help in pillaging the rest of this place, you’re going to need to answer some questions I have. I spoke to Junior. He confirmed what Suzanne did. You’re genuinely going to try and tame a Trueborn Chimera?”

“Tame? She’s about as ‘tamed’ as you are to Tielman,” Willem disagreed. “Whatever it is, it’s a partnership.”

“Then tell me about this partnership, or I do this regency my way.” Viviene put her foot down.

“I should pay you to do nepotism?” Willem complained. “Even Anne Claire didn’t ask me to pay up when I wanted to use and abuse her authority for my personal gain. What kind of family is this?”

“Talk, or I’ll delegate authority of the ducal treasury to one of the lords,” she threatened.

Willem ground his teeth together, but eventually gave a defeated nod. “Fine. But we’ll do it in installments. We’ve a lot of work to do, and we’ve got to strike while the iron is hot.”

With Viviene having her hands wrapped around the ducal treasury, the money faucet was thrown wide open. Willem took out tremendous personal loans from the duchy itself, each closely in line with the laws and legislations of the Kingdom. Quite frankly, he levered himself to hell and back with very favorable terms. He used these funds to spread capital across the distressed Duchy of Dubois, which was in a state of total panic. Just about everyone assumed that the whole duchy would soon be brought under royal receivership, and thus rushed to withdraw whatever funds they could before the hammer came down.

Investors, from the highest to the lowest, were easiest to deal with when scared. Whether in this life or the last, panic had a way of peeling the pride right off a man. Once the cracks in any investment start showing, they don’t think in terms of worth anymore. They think about how quickly they can cut their losses and crawl out clean. Willem didn't need to trick the people of the duchy—they talked themselves into the deal. They saw him as their lifeboat, not a shark. By the time the paperwork was signed, things have already been sold for silvers on the gold. Investors with options negotiate—and distressed investors think they’re out of options.

After days and days of busy work, Viviene and Willem stood on the balcony of one of the grandiose rooms in the Dubois palace, looking out across the beautiful city as the sun set.

“I never realized quite how deeply satisfying dismantling this place would be,” Viviene said with a wide smile, staring out across the city. “This place could be in for some severe turmoil, you know.”

“I’ll make them whole,” Willem promised. “It’s just a change of ownership, that’s all. Businesses need a shake up to stay fresh. I won’t be screwing over the little guy—I’m screwing the big investors who have direct access to the duke.”

There was silence for a while. Viviene looked to be mulling something over in her head, and she came to a conclusion.

Viviene leaned against the railing and studied him. “The fact that Sarah manipulated, used, and eventually backstabbed Duke Baptiste doesn’t bother you? The fact that she’s told you directly all the foul things that she’s done doesn’t bother you?”

Willem pursed his lips in irritation, but didn’t try to change the subject. “She hasn’t told me everything. That’s the thing about being old. There are so many stories to tell, and so many experiences that have shaped your life, that you end up just focusing on the here and now.”

“And right now, she’s absolutely treacherous.” Viviene looked out toward the city once more. “Perhaps the most treacherous she’s ever been. She’s betraying her homeland. Why do you think that you’re different from the countless others that she’s seduced? Why would she make an exception for you? Her life is built around deception and destruction, Willem!”

“I’ve just spent days paying dirt-cheap prices for controlling stakes in countless businesses using money loaned from the treasury of the person that I just screwed over royally.” Willem looked at her evenly. “Screwed him quite literally royally, at that. I can’t exactly complain if my partner also screws people over for a living. As a matter of fact, you might say we’re perfect for one another.”

“You can be facetious all you want, but you know it’s different.” Viviene crossed her arms. “And you forget entirely that Junior is in there, sharing all.”

Willem tapped his chest. “Hey, I pay my rent. I’m entitled to do in my domicile what I please.”

“What do you even like about her?” Viviene asked, flabbergasted. “Why have such trust in… something that everybody distrusts?”

“Good investing is fundamentally contrarian,” Willem argued. “For every buyer, there’s a seller. Except in cases of external pressures, the seller is selling because they think it will be worth less in the future. The buyer is buying because they think it’ll be worth more. That’s a fundamental disagreement.”

“What does that have to do with getting into bed with something that has wings and a lion body?” Viviene demanded.

Willem gestured with his hands elaborately as he explained, “By investing in Sarah now when everyone is convinced she’s a heartless maneater, she’ll still be at my side where her value is sky-high. This is just contrarian investing done right—everyone else is warning me off, moaning that it’s too volatile, too unpredictable, but I see the value where others only see risk.” He tapped his temple. “I mean… come on. Things won’t ever get stale with her. You’ll all see—but by then, it’ll be too late. She’ll be mine.”

“By the goddess…” Viviene sighed. “Can you be honest, once? Not in words—in spirit.”

Willem bit at his lips, looking out at Dubois. He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared. Then, he looked at Viviene.

“I’m just giving someone something that I desperately wanted when I felt the way that they did.” He sighed thoughtfully. “Honestly, I don’t know if it’s going to work out. Maybe I’ll be the sucker. But… if it does work out… it’ll be real. Realer than real. And all I’ve ever wanted is something real.” He looked to the city. “When you open yourself up like this, you have to accept the risk of being hurt. You should know that, Miss One-Eye.”

“Tielman is quite different.” Viviene shook her head.

“Not much,” Willem argued. “Both were born into this. Both have killed thousands in the name of their nation, and to stay alive.”

“One is more beast than man,” Viviene pointed out.

“Then why did she choose to save my life when it was of no benefit to her?” He looked out across the city. “As a matter of fact, it was to her detriment. She could’ve lived large for thirty years, but no—she chose to warn me, help me. And now she’s done it again.”

Viviene only sighed. “This is going to end in disaster.”

“Heard that when I bought in 1974 after the oil crisis, Black Monday on 1987, 2002 after the Dot-Com Crash, 2009 after the Global Financial Crisis, 2020 after the COVID-19…” Willem smiled. “It’s always a portent for great success.” He looked over. “If you say next, ‘this time is different,’ you might as well ring the wedding bells now.”

“This time is different,” Viviene said.

“Haaah…” Willem gave a self-satisfied sigh as he smiled broadly. “I was actually a little nervous. Thanks for killing that for me.”

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