Chapter 99: The Farewell Feast (Patreon)

Jansen sat down just beside the head of the table right beside his partner, Diana, who was giving him the silent treatment. She looked much like her true form of Sarah, though her hair was black and her eyes a normal brown. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to herself, even here. Simply not worth the risk.

Jansen took the time to look between the various assembled family members. All of the sons and daughters of Count Tielman had assembled with the lone exception of Hans. Once, that might have been a disaster waiting to happen, but now it was a relatively peaceful gathering. Viviene had also come along. She sat alongside her husband—indeed, husband—peacefully, her mask removed to expose the scar without shame.

Countless issues had been resolved. Lennard had resumed his role as Tielman’s successor—though in the wake of Arnoud’s continued reforms, that might mean less than it used to. Godfried had taken up service in the capital, working for Princess Clara directly by Hans’ recommendation. Tielman and Viviene had reconciled, despite the fact there was little need to. All told, they had a much more harmonious family.

“So… how is it out there, Jansen?” Godfried asked.

Jansen listened carefully, then said, “It’s cold, harsh, and unforgiving. Rather like Diana in that regard,” he jested, not looking her way. “But enough about me. Seems like a fair bit has changed in my absence. You two are trying again?” he asked Viviene.

“I was lucky enough for that, yes,” Tielman confirmed.

Viviene said nothing, sipping on wine.

“I’d give some cautionary words, but as I understand it your problems came regarding parenting, and I don’t think more children are on the horizon for you two.” Jansen drummed the table. “Such a shame that the abused couldn’t escape the abuser.”

“I’m remembering why I left our last meeting feeling bad,” Lennard remarked.

“Looks like you can’t claim to be the only newlywed, Dirk.” Jansen looked over at his friend, who sat beside Suzanne. “Must take some wind out of your sails.”

“Not in the slightest.” Dirk said, looking over at Suzanne as if he was the luckiest man in the world.

Catharina rejoined the table with her son, Ventura, in her arms, having just finished breastfeeding. “Wille—Jansen,” she greeted enthusiastically. “I was waiting for you to join us. Ventura adored those toys you sent over!”

“That mini-ledger?” Jansen leaned in, eager to hear about a prospective business-minded nephew.

“No, the spinning thing placed above the crib,” Catharina said.

Jansen deflated back in his chair. “Oh.”

“I sent that,” Diana said firmly, breaking her silence.

“We,” Jansen corrected.

“Jansen was going to gift the child shares in a company,” Diana blabbed. “Which essentially amounted to scribbles on a piece of paper.”

“it’s an appreciating asset.” Jansen shook his head. “Better to start young investing. Take my word for it.”

“From what we hear, you don’t actually have much stake in these businesses yourself,” Tielman said.

Jansen looked annoyed when that was brought up. “Yes, and it’s been frustrating. Instead, it’s just the nebulous ‘government’ that has ownership of the businesses. The rest of it are typically distributed toward the workers that help get it off the ground.”

“You essentially make up the government,” Diana pointed out, but Jansen looked unconvinced.

“Well, I’m proud of you,” Lennard commended.

“Yes, it’s all terribly moving,” He shrugged. “My midlife crisis changed me. Instead of exploiting market inefficiencies for the wrong reasons, I’m exploiting them for the right reasons,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He hunched in his chair for a bit until he looked over at Diana. “Well… I suppose it has been fun. I get to continually do what I love most, but without much incentive.”

“You make plenty,” Diana informed him snippily.

“Yes, we’re very glad that your life has turned out peachy after that stunt you pulled,” Viviene finally broke her silence.

There was still a great deal of tension at the table at Jansen’s abrupt desertion, but things had turned out rather alright in that regard, so they chose to treat it much like Arnoud did—out of sight, out of mind. Jansen chose to hold his tongue, something that he was becoming more practiced at in recent years. Marginally.

“How long will you be mad?” Jansen asked Diana.

“How about we ask your relatives how long I should be mad?” Diana looked at him, and then at the table. “Jansen proposed that I stay here and build up a business front. He intended for me to stay for the better part of a decade, while he built things up in Avaria.”

“I said a year!” Jansen defended.

“’A year to a decade,’ were your exact words,” Diana countered. “Even a year is too much, anyway. But what do you all think?”

The whole table took turns admonishing Jansen for his insensibility. In the middle of all that, the man being scolded was all smiles. It was a strange thing for him to have a true family in the midst of all this. Not just distant relatives, but people that he could genuinely rely on. By the end of it all, Diana’s coldness had evaporated. She cared more about being right than having any genuine vengeance. It was a harmonious family, indeed. And what did that mean?

This family had become boring. And there was nothing better than a boring family, by Jansen’s estimation.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Jansen interrupted, holding both his hands out. “Anyway, it won’t be much longer until Junior comes out. These days, he’s got a lot more agency. So, let’s discuss the future. I noticed that the man that I helped become king is absent,” Jansen pointed out.

Viviene shook her head at her son’s assertion. “Hans became king due to his own efforts. The fact that he isn’t here shows good judgment on his part. It shows that he won’t consort with undesirables, who might tarnish the name of his royal wife.”

“Harsh but fair,” Jansen conceded. “And what about the territory?”

“Revenues are stabilizing from trade, but the special privileges granted by the crown are declining. Without Avaria on the border, threatening us, there’s no need to give special funding or lax fortification rights,” Viviene outlined cleanly before her husband could say a word. “The king generally isn’t paying us any mind as he continues his efforts to centralize the kingdom.”

“Still, I doubt you could come out of hiding,” Suzanne said. “Galahad still asks about you, sometimes.”

“I’m not in hiding,” Jansen defended. “I’m simply taking an indefinite sabbatical from the kingdom due to my terminally ill partner.” People looked at him disbelievingly. “Well, fine, I’m in hiding,” he conceded. “And no chance of the old pardon? Arnoud’s not softening?”

“I believe the last time your name was brought up by an unwitting servant in the presence of the king, that person was assigned to clean the kitchen chamberpot for the next decade,” Suzanne said. “His daughter’s husband is probably the only reason that you don’t receive assassination attempts.”

“It appears that Hans has it made. But then again, he has to deal with the king as his father-in-law.” He looked at Dirk. “And Arend? He guarding you alright?”

“He is,” Dirk confirmed.

“Gustav?” Jansen pressed.

“He’s been following the roadmap you left for the soap business,” Dirk continued. “He’s grateful you aren’t trying to compete with him.”

Jansen nodded wistfully. “Well… I’ve delayed long enough. I’ll give you what you people want.”

“You’re family too, strange as this is,” Godfried interrupted. “All of us know that.”

Jansen gave a wordless smile, and then ceded control to Junior. The man’s posture adjusted subtly, and he looked all around.

“The man never shuts up,” Junior said, shaking his head. Then, he slammed his fist on the table. “Let’s make good use of this time! We’ll be here only once a year, after all.”

***

After as long a celebration as Junior could manage, Jansen was left to contend with the drunkenness that the man had brought about. Diana helped him back to their room, where their scant belongings were already packed. They would leave on the morrow to return to Avaria, permitting the king’s men no opportunity to enact some sort of vengeance on them.

As Jansen laid there in the bed, inebriated, his eyes on Diana—now Sarah again, donning her mostly-true form—he babbled.

“Catharina’s child was quite adorable,” he admitted.

“Hmm,” Sarah responded. “You should’ve told her as much. I’m sure she’d be pleased.”

“We should get one of those,” Jansen continued.

Sarah looked over. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m serious,” Jansen insisted.

Sarah sat on the edge of the bed. “Did you forget when I told you Trueborn Chimeras eat their mates?”

“You’d never hurt me,” Jansen said certainly.

Sarah fixed his hair. “Unless you asked, of course. Sometimes I wish you would.”

Jansen chuckled. “What do you say we surprise them… next year?”

Sarah studied his eyes. “You really are serious,” she realized. “You’re uniquely attracted to insane ideas.”

“Guilty as charged,” Jansen said with a peculiar face. “I suppose… that this is life, now.”

“What is?” Sarah questioned, looking into the distance.

“We spend day after day, month after month, year after year… building. Peaceful day after peaceful day.” He sighed. “I forgot how dull it feels… after a taste of what I gave up.”

“Are you dissatisfied?” Sarah asked him, the words tight in her throat.

He lifted his head to look at her seriously. “Not in the slightest,” Jansen said. “Not for a moment. The whole reason you fight is for these boring days.”

“It sounds a paltry reward,” Sarah admitted.

“You were in the grinder longer than I ever was,” Jansen said. “But eventually… that veneer will fade, your mental walls will collapse, and you’ll realize… a life where one day bleeds into the next is the best any of us can ask for.”

***
Here's where Disregard Fantasy, Acquire Currency ends.

I started this story attempting to combine two of my interests-- fantasy and finance. I had a great deal of fun doing so at first. The story was doing better than I expected, even, and seemed poised to do well on Royal Road. Then, Willem declared he was nonviolent, whereupon ratings tanked, it fell off Rising Stars, and the story plateaued in growth.

I don't have anyone to blame for that but myself, of course-- I didn't know the audience well enough. Still, I lost a lot of my enthusiasm for the story after that. I don't care about ratings or critiques, especially, but I do care about discoverability, and I don't see the story suddenly resurging. I'd rather cut things off here than endure a slow, steady decline-- hence the rushed pace. You've essentially read my cliff notes for what I had planned. I tried to make it satisfying nonetheless, and I hope I succeeded.

This Patreon will continue to post (relatively) light-hearted transmigration fantasy stories, starting tomorrow with Guy the Wise, featuring a wise-guy. Here's the blurb for that.

Young and ambitious New York mafia associate Luca Trapani awakens in the body of Guyard of Fenrest, the son of a provincial noble recently enrolled in the Imperial University. After enduring relentless harassment on account of his heritage, Guyard had thought to depart this world. Instead, his mind was merged with that of Luca’s, bringing together the contradictory natures of the soft-hearted boy and the wannabe tough guy.

Luca’s new world isn’t entirely different from the last. Instead of a Don, everyone answers to an Emperor. Instead of Made Men, there were Nobles, and instead of a Caporegime they had Counts and Dukes. In this life the protection racket was decidedly legal, and Luca had the fortune to be one of the lucky few in that hierarchy.

Only… because of Guyard’s deep elven ancestry, the empire seems less inclined to give him his fair take. Luca decides to tread the old road of organized crime, intent on carving out a large foothold in the criminal underworld of the empire. He couldn’t anticipate that he’d come head-to-head with a shadowy network of conspiracies enacted by ancient malevolent forces, of course. Still, that suited Luca just fine.

Ancient evil or not, criminals had no legal recourse against other criminals, and there was a lot of money to be made.