Julian's knees hit the carpet with a soft thud that sounded like a coffin closing. He looked at the [Silence Tax] notification and then at Lyra. The violet glow of her dagger was reflecting in his eyes, creating a shimmering, hallucinogenic effect that was either the Void or the three liters of Dwarven Ale finally claiming his brain.
"Lyra, my dear, beautiful, terrifyingly observant friend," Julian wheezed, clasping his hands together as if in prayer—or a business proposal. "Fifty percent of my gold is a steep acquisition fee. That's capital I intended to reinvest into... into your future comfort! If you liquidate my assets now, our long-term growth will be stunted!"
Lyra's eyes narrowed, the dagger humming a pitch higher. "My 'future comfort' involves you not singing about my anatomy in front of the Empire's nobility, Julian. You saw... that. And then you advertised it for the price of a bar tab."
"It was a marketing strategy!" Julian cried, his voice hitting a desperate soprano. "I was... obscuring the truth with hyperbole! Nobody believes a drunkard! But fine! If it's a tax you want, it's a shopping trip you'll get. I shall clothe you in fabrics so expensive the Emperor will feel underdressed. We shall buy your silence with the finest silks in the Northern Provinces!"
[System Notification: Objective Updated!]
[Quest: 'The Silence Tax' - Phase 1: The Shopping Spree of Doom]
[Goal: Spend at least 5,000 Gold on Lyra to lower her 'Indignation Meter'.]
[Current Indignation: 98% (Extremely Volatile)]
Two hours later, after a bath that involved enough cold water to restart Julian's heart and enough lavender oil to mask the scent of a hundred taverns, they were at the Capital's High-End Promenade.
Julian looked like a proper nobleman again—black cane, velvet coat, and a face that said "I own your mortgage." Lyra walked beside him, her hood pulled low, but the sheer grace of her stride made every passerby stop and stare.
"Only the best for my... associate," Julian muttered, steering her toward 'Vance's Velvet & Valuables', the most exclusive boutique in the city.
Inside, the air smelled of perfume and extreme wealth. Julian felt at home. He loved the smell of high margins in the morning.
"Ah, Young Master Blackwood!" a voice oily enough to fry fish in rang out.
Julian's smile vanished. Standing by a rack of enchanted furs was Marquis D'Vayne, the son of his father's chief rival in the maritime trade. He was flanked by two bodyguards who looked like they'd been carved out of granite and fed nothing but aggression.
"I heard you were dying, Julian," D'Vayne sneered, his eyes flicking to Lyra. "But it seems you've found enough strength to drag a... commoner into a shop she clearly can't afford. Who is the girl? A new maid? Or did you finally run out of money and start kidnapping street performers?"
Julian felt Lyra's mana spike. The display of glass mannequins behind her began to vibrate.
'Oh no. If she deletes a Marquis in broad daylight, my insurance won't cover the diplomatic fallout,' Julian thought, his mind racing.
"Marquis D'Vayne," Julian said, his voice dropping into that smooth, Master Magician baritone. "I'd ask how your father's spice ships are doing, but I believe the latest report says they're currently serving as artificial reefs in the Southern Sea. A tragic loss of capital. Truly."
D'Vayne's face turned the color of a ripe tomato. "You little—"
"As for my companion," Julian continued, stepping forward and placing a protective (and very sweaty) hand on Lyra's arm. "She is my High-Tier Consultant. She specializes in... market liquidations. And right now, she's looking for a dress that costs more than your family's remaining dignity."
"Consultant?" D'Vayne laughed harshly. "She looks like she belongs in a refugee camp. I bet she doesn't even know what Star-Silk feels like." He turned to the shopkeeper. "Vance! I'll buy everything in this section. I don't want the common rabble touching my potential purchases."
[System Notification: Random Encounter - 'The Ego Audit']
[Objective: Outspend the Marquis to maintain your 'Authority' stat.]
[Warning: Your wallet is currently crying.]
Julian looked at Lyra. She was staring at a dress made of moon-spun gossamer, her eyes momentarily softening. It was a 6,000-gold masterpiece.
"Vance," Julian said, his "lit" stare returning with a vengeance. "Double the Marquis's offer for the entire store. And charge it to my father's 'Emergency Diplomatic Fund.' After all, preventing a Calamity from destroying a city is technically diplomacy."
"Double?!" Vance squeaked, his eyes turning into gold coins.
"Julian, you don't have that kind of credit!" D'Vayne roared.
"I have something better than credit, D'Vayne," Julian whispered, leaning in. "I have a Saintess who is currently deciding whether to buy that dress or turn your lungs into a vacuum. I suggest you leave before she decides on both."
As D'Vayne retreated, cursing about "Blackwood arrogance," Julian turned to Lyra, who was still looking at the dress.
"Is the silence... getting cheaper?" Julian asked hopefully.
Lyra touched the fabric, a small, dangerous smile playing on her lips. "It's a start, Julian. But I'll need shoes. And a staff. And perhaps... that ruby necklace in the window."
[System Notification: Indignation Meter: 98% -> 75%]
[Gold Remaining: [ERROR: DEEP REGRET]]
'I'm going to be the most stylish beggar in history,' Julian thought, his soul weeping as he handed over his black-card. '190 days to live... and I'm spending 189 of them in debt.'