One year later
Fareed Mallard Pov:
Fareed didn't know what he was getting into. Well, he actually did, as his father had been preparing him for this, but he had expected this day to come only far into the future.
As sad as he was about his parents' death on a trip to Earth, he needed to pick up the mantle. Mars was in chaos, as always, and things were going well in Mallard territories. His family had governed these lands long enough for their roots to run deep, so a little wind was an annoyance at best.
It has become a Martian jewel and one of the bigger cities on this planet: Mallard City.
Not the most inspired name, but it wasn't him who named it. His family had been a great service in the Calamity War and, as such, had been given a lot of autonomy and land on Mars to develop.
Reading over the documents and reports on his territory, found that he had a few interconnected problems all began around the same time. Companies came out of the woodwork a few years ago that rapidly took or were taking the top places in not only his but many other Arbrau-controlled territories.
His ancestors and father were adamant on ensuring their family territory's autonomy and self-sufficiency. Yet the current territory-owned companies in certain sectors were being outcompeted and losing market share, which he had no way to stop unless he exercised his noble rule.
Something he didn't want to try because he was still new and didn't want to make any big changes. Mallard Territory prided itself on an open market economy, which was a primary reason for its growth. May still considered him an untested boy, and while he doubted people would run, blatantly manipulating the market with no reputation to back it up would be a horrible start to his rule.
The worst part is how crucial the industries being taken over were, and the speed. Logistics, water and sanitation and it seems agriculture is getting taken too, as of late. Well, he could include arms manufacturing, but they imported their weapons and ammunition.
All taken by that dirty street rat named Darius Kingston.
This wasn't even counting the mining industry with that new business he started with that Bernstein girl and Taiwaz. A few rare-earth mineral deposits were discovered in the territory, and Redstone Mines were finalising a deal to purchase the land.
Much of this info only reached him recently despite the safeguards in place. The safeguards were written a long time ago, and the systems and oversight had grown lax since a situation of this calibre had never appeared, but there was no way that not a single person noticed.
I mean, for fucks sake, Mallard Logistics went from a market share of seventy-eight to fifty-five in a few measly years!
There had to be corruption happening here, and it was so bad that many logistical tenders were being given to the intruders. He needed to investigate these problems as soon as possible.
While he couldn't be blatant, there were other ways. Beginning with amending the current acts of his land and plans to introduce a revised competition commission. He also had his best men begin cracking down on corruption across all related departments in his territory.
These methods, while still a bit bold, were necessary lest he allow this wound to fester and worsen.
A week had passed since he vowed to make changes, and after announcing the first crackdown and plans to amend certain legislation, a boy playing businessman came to see him.
Darius Kingston.
The reason behind all this mess. From the research he had done, this kid had come out of nowhere, buying struggling businesses across the previously named industries, merging some and bringing in help from his connections.
His disdain only grew from the sheer envy of the filth's luck. Fight the decaying corpse of Gjallahorn once, join a band of criminals and now you have the government and cartel paving the road for you. If he were given the support of the ruling nation, the criminal underworld and a mega company, he was sure he could achieve just as much if not more.
If only his father had not kept him locked up in his room studying like a bureaucratic slave.
Now, an upstart was walking around, causing chaos in an already chaotic planet.
Arbrau didn't care, and his family's connections were useless here; the local military force belonged to the damn kid, thanks to his family outsourcing security, and any other powers they normally hired to deal with violent issues were currently too scared or weak to do anything. Best of all, Gjallarhorn were too busy combusting to care.
The upstart was also seemingly trying to curry favour with the local populace too. Something about offering cheap medicine and skills courses for the price of employment, which filled those hollow shells he calls businesses up and built goodwill with many communities.
Kingston Gifts.
He scoffed at the name. As original as naming a city after your…anyway, it was clear that the boy had criminal aid, and it had to be from Chryse's number one and only crime boss, Pete Gulino. The leader of the Gulino Mafia and a shame to Arbrau, the local nobility, Gjallahorn and justice itself.
To have a known crime boss under everyone's nose, yet no one does anything about it, is the epitome of the disgrace Chryse has become.
When the crime boss began to expand into the Mallard territory, his father had arrested the criminal scum when they were seen in their territory, but his gang had caused citywide havoc and broken the man out. For a criminal group, they were as well-armed as a military. This required his father to call in aid from the local best-known paramilitary group, Tekkaden.
Unfortunately, his father was not aware of the two criminals' connection.
Guess what, the criminals ran in fear with no deaths on either side.
Coincidence?
That unfortunately did not change the fact that his father had reduced the local militia and instead relied on Tekkadan, as they proved way better in quality, criminal deterrence and cost-effectiveness. That was the beginning of this problem. His father opened the door for the street urchins, and now they took up residence.
He was going on a tangent.
Basically, this boy, with the help of his partners, shady methods and apparently high starting capital, had done what took companies years in just a few. Why do all the worst people get given such generous luck and favour?
Recently, the boy of his thoughts had asked for a meeting; he had to reluctantly accept.
When he saw the boy, the first thought was that he looked way younger than he had seen in the images. God, he could still see the green behind his ears. The boy entered the office room with a swagger, a black cane with a golden eagle attached to the top in hand, matching his black coat, business shoes and eight-piece cap.
The boy took a seat opposite him, taking his tacky hat off and placing it on his cane that leaned on the couch, revealing a politician's smile behind those devilish eyes.
"Lord Mallard. Thank you for having me so late, and I must say, you have my condolences. Your father and mother were good people. I had the privilege to share a few dinners with them, and they were always caring, kind and steadfast."
He gave a thankful nod but nothing more. His father had warned him about such people, and it was always best to keep your words few when possible. The boy kept his polite smile even with the lacklustre response.
"Lord Mallard, I understand you have enacted quite the changes which are quite bold and courageous of you, but I must say, to act so...hastily, so soon after your father's passing. Wouldn't you say it's too soon to make brash changes? After all, your father has had years to build this, and it's led to your territories prospering as of late."
He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, letting the silence stretch a beat too long before he spoke. "Mr. Kingston, I appreciate your concern. But this territory is mine to govern now. My father's decisions, while I respect them, were his. Mine may be different."
His father had ensured their territory's prosperity in return for being a backseat driver of his own territory. Something he wouldn't allow.
The street rat was here because he's worried; he could tell that easily. If he weren't worried, he'd be sending lawyers or lobbyists, not coming in person. That thought gave him strength.
"I didn't make these changes on a whim. I've been studying the numbers. Many new businesses around here and the way they operate have left us with little choice. We will be at the mercy of their prices and terms if this does not change soon. That's not a healthy economy."
He felt the need to pat his back for the excellent tone-setting. He wanted the upstart to know he wasn't just another noble's boy, not that he needed to prove anything to the likes of this. He was the new lord of Mars's most important territory, and he intended to act like it.
"Of course, of course, I understand. I'm willing to cooperate, but don't you think a healthy relationship has a give and take? I have something I would like help in getting through in parliament, and I heard you have some connections. All I need is your absolute promise to help me when the time comes, and as a guarantee, the names of those on your payroll."
He scoffed, feeling insulted to the highest degree. Give and take? For what? All of this was his. He was not giving anything. He needed to put up a strong front now more than ever, especially now when such rats think they can negotiate with him. Still, he couldn't be so blatant about his thoughts. Not yet. "I'll think about it."
The upstart merely held his gaze for a moment, pulling out what looked to be a custom-made gold coin, which he placed on the table between them. On the top of the coin, the words 'Plata' were written on top.
"This is a gift a friend gave me for my last birthday as a joke. He said I reminded him of the type of people who would use it. Never really got to use it much, so it's a treat when I do."
He unfortunately did not know what the words meant, but he did know it was from one of Earth's languages. Spanish, if he remembered which was more common in the SAU. No, wait, he did know some words from reading a few books from said economic bloc. Concentrating for a moment, the word finally made itself known to him.
It meant silver or money.
"If money is the problem, I wouldn't mind revisiting the prices of the tenders if you are willing to keep the status quo. I would also like Tekkaden to do some community work here for free of course. There may be more concessions if you're willing."
Some sort of bribe? What type of man did he think Fareed Mallard was?
His lips curled into a thin smile. "Mr Kingston, let me be perfectly clear: I don't intend to sell my people's future for a short-term price cut."
He tapped the table lightly, his fingers brushing the coin but not taking it. "Lower prices would be nice. But what I want is a competitive economy, not a controlled one. I'd rather face the risks of breaking up these monopolies than the certainty of being ruled by them."
The boy's smile still held as he flipped the coin over. The word 'Plomo' was written on this side. Lead, his mind supplied. The other man then took out another item, a golden bullet and placed it on the desk.
"Lord, I understand that you may not know this since you're new, but you need to be made aware of something. Your local militia is quite lacking. Which is why your father employed the services of Tekkaden. This has kept your territories rather terrorist free, which is more than what a lot of other nobles can say. "
The boy paused to look out the glass doors beside them. "It's peaceful here and the unemployment rate is at an all-time low, with the economy being at an all-time high. The crime is rather low, and if you leave things as is, you'd be looking at a gem of a territory in a few years by doing nothing that could possibly surpass Cryse. Currently, you're trying to fix something that doesn't need fixing, which could upset this all. Not only that, it's very obvious how you feel about the generous deal I'm offering."
The boy's smile dropped as he held his gaze. "Fareed, let it be known that the citizens don't care who runs the place or how they do it. They won't notice or care that another uppity nobleman went missing. That happens every other month, but that doesn't have to be you. Let us put aside our differences for the betterment of all."
He wasn't even trying to hide it anymore.
His fingers drummed the desk lightly, a slow, steady rhythm to keep his composure. "Put aside our differences? Let me remind you of something: just because I am young and new does not mean I am a fool, and I am not my father."
His voice hardened. "Your version of betterment for all is you having a leash over everyone, ready to tighten it at any inconvenience. I'd rather die a free man than live as a puppet."
He was lying, of course. He didn't plan to die. In fact, he was looking to hire as much protection as he could once this conversation was over. He would need to bring those from out of Arbrau territories, which would be quite the expense, but it was more than warranted now.
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "I appreciate your candour. But know this: I won't be cowed by threats, nor bought by coins. If you come for me, come with everything you have. Because I will not go quietly."
He was a Mallard, a family that traced its lineage as far back as the Calamity wars, where they fought on the front lines. How could he ever face his family if he cowered to a little boy from the mud with a bit of power?
The reaction he got was rather different from what he expected. The young man began laughing. He laughed as he stood up and picked up his coin and bullet, only calming down once he adjusted his hat over his head, ready to leave.
"I see Fareed. Well, let us see where this route shall take you but I must say, you've put your father's legacy to shame. " He then turned to leave before stopping at the door. " It's Rina's seventeenth birthday next week, right? Be prepared to rest in peace knowing that I shall comfort her when she loses her last family member. I'm not a monster after all."
With that, he left.
The anger he felt was knuckle-whitening and teeth-grinding. He needed to take in a few dozen deep breaths to even think properly again.
Rina. His sister. His only family now.
Comfort her? That disgusting, good-for-nothing Martian trash thought he could threaten her. To threaten him was bad, but to mention her meant war.
He reached for the intercom. "Get me that Warlord from the Oceanic fed's side, Bael or whatever his name was," he ordered, his voice cold as iron.
"Yes, Lord Mallard."
He would pay and do so dea-
BOOM!!