Zeke stood in his office. Through the window, he observed the tiled path leading up to the main mansion of the estate. Today marked the seventh day since the conference, and therefore it was also the last day of the empire's deadline. Everyone who would stay with him, or even in his employ after today, would draw their ire.
When the news broke, almost all of the newest hires quit on the spot. Zeke couldn't even blame them, they had only been with him for weeks and he was just the latest in a long line of employers to them. There was not enough incentive or loyalty to remain with him. He had expected this to happen the moment Otto uttered his declaration.
The next group to leave were those of Maximilian's subordinates who had never come to terms with the change in leadership. Over the past week, a couple of them had left each day. This was a harsher pill to swallow as Zeke had been under the impression that those who had made it through the period of struggle and trials would stay with him for good.
However, he still understood their decision. Many still had loved ones in the empire, and Zeke wouldn't put it past Arkanheim to use them as leverage down the line.
Even so, the trickle of departures increased with each day. As the deadline drew closer, nerves became taut and people who had initially been on the fence began to rethink their choice. This had all come to a head today. It was like a dam had broken, and there was a steady stream of people leaving the mansion all morning.
Zeke saw many familiar faces among them. Hector, the young man who had been tricked by Albert not too long ago, had left just earlier. His back had been bent in shame, and there had been more than one rueful glance backward before he reached the gate. But he still left in the end.
Milo, the healer Zeke had included in his experiment, was in the process of leaving right now. Despite his reserved personality, he seemed resolute in his decision. Zeke's eyes were fixed on the boy's back as he made his way down the tiled path. Not once did his head turn or his steps waver. Soon, he stepped through the gate, leaving Zeke's sight and service for good.
Zeke had suspected his people's allegiance to be insufficient. More than that, he had even complained to David about this very fact mere days ago. He had proclaimed that money didn't buy true loyalty and that his subordinates would leave at the first sign of trouble.
Still, this had been one of those times where he had wished to be proven wrong. He felt a prick in his heart with each familiar figure that stepped through the gate. Most of the buildings in his workshop were now left barren and the lively atmosphere of a week ago felt like a distant memory. Would they even be able to continue operations under these conditions?
His train of thought was halted by a knock on the door.
"Come in," Zeke called out. Even though the door was outside his sphere of awareness. He was reasonably certain that it would be David. The man had been providing him daily updates on the people who left.
To his surprise, the person who entered was somebody else. Kerim stepped into the room, wearing his captain's uniform and hat. Zeke had not seen him like this in quite some time. The somber expression on the man's face was also a rare sight for the jovial man.
"Something the matter, Kerim?" Zeke asked with furrowed brows. "You look awfully serious."
"I guess I do," Kerim said as he attempted his usual smile. However, it somehow didn't look right on his face today. "I… erm… I have something to tell you."
"Out with it then," Zeke said vigorously, trying to dispel the awkward mood that had somehow started to creep in. "This isn't like you at all."
Kerim stiffened, but after a moment of internal struggle, he met Zeke's gaze head-on. "I am leaving."
"Ok? Where are you going?" Zeke asked in confusion.
"No, Ezekiel. You don't understand what I'm saying. I am quitting."
Zeke's eyes widened. Quitting? Quitting the family? He was leaving? For a long moment, Zeke was so shocked that he didn't even know how to react. It took him several heartbeats to regain enough composure to formulate a question.
"Why?" he rasped.
Kerim was silent for a moment. "I received an offer a while back," he eventually said. "It was from a friend in the city guard. Tradespire is increasing its fleet and he asked me to join. I wasn't interested at the time, but now… with everything… the empire… the threat…"
Kerim started to get less and less confident as he continued his explanation. He was barely able to meet Zeke's gaze toward the end. Eventually, though, he cleared his throat, getting his voice back under control. "Yesterday, that friend told me that the offer would be off the table if I ended up on the empire's shit list. I knew I would have to make a choice."
"And you chose to leave?"
"Yes, and I am sorry for that, Zeke," Kerim said. "I know that you have plans — great plans. But the more I learn, the less I want to be part of them. I am not an ambitious man, you see. The feeling of the wind in my hair and the grip of a steering wheel in my hands is all I ever wanted."
A silence fell upon the room as neither of the two quite knew how to continue from here. It would be a lie to say that Zeke wasn't disappointed. This turn of events had taken him completely off guard. However, that didn't mean he couldn't understand. He had just hoped that at least his core group would make it through this ordeal intact.
"There's more that you should know," Kerim said. "I am not the only one…"
"Who else?" Zeke asked, preparing his heart.
"About a third of the sailors are coming with me," Kerim explained. "The rest are going to stay with Jett. The old man and I made sure you still had enough people to continue operating the business, if in a reduced capacity."
Zeke nodded. This was as good as he could have hoped for. The sailors were incredibly loyal to Kerim, and he could have convinced many more to join him, had he tried. Still, by the look on the captain's face, this was not the end of it. "More?"
Kerim nodded. "Lena and Marissa are both leaving as well."
"What? Why?" Zeke almost yelled.
"Don't know," Kerim admitted with a shrug. "They are talking to David right now, so I am sure you'll know soon enough. But If I had to guess, I'd say they probably got a similar offer to the one I got. They are both Mind Mages skilled in administration. Such talents are always coveted."
Zeke couldn't hide his grimace this time. He didn't just lose one but three of his core followers. He anxiously studied Kerims face, afraid the man had more bad news for him. But this seemed to be all the captain had wanted to say. Still, this was far worse than he had anticipated.
"Good luck," was all he managed, extending his hand for a shake. Kerim took his hand, he seemed to be on the verge of saying something but thought better of it at the last moment. After the handshake, Kerim departed, leaving behind a sullen Zeke.
The boy remained rooted to his spot, absolutely motionless. The only movement in the room was a slight trickle of blood running down his chin. Zeke was grinding his teeth hard enough that his gums has started to bleed. Suddenly, he balled up both his fists and threw a punch at the hardwood desk next to him. In his anger, he had not controlled his force, his punch reducing the piece of furniture to splinters.
Three out of ten! The empire only had to utter this one threat and a third of his most trusted followers had left. He had been right — had been right all along! None of them had even the slightest shred of loyalty. How was he supposed to take his revenge now? How was he supposed to stand up to the empire with nothing but this house of cards?
Was this even worth pursuing anymore? There had been no fighting, no bloodshed, no confrontation, and his family was already on the brink of collapse. He had even lost the name Maximilian had passed on to him. All he had left was the fortune he had managed to amass and his estate.
But even though he had all this money, it would be hard to find anybody willing to work for him, no matter the rates he was willing to pay. Otto had been clever. His move had not only isolated him from his people, it made it almost impossible to find replacements.
The only good thing that had come from this was that the preorders for his Gondolas had exploded. Apparently, many people assumed he would not be in business for much longer. Therefore, they attempted to obtain a model while they still could. They would not run out of customers any time soon.
But what good would that do him? Sure, he would be able to pay all the bounties he had promised, but this was not how he had imagined his contribution to the war going. He had planned to increase his strength, build up his forces, and work on his research. But all those plans had turned to ash when Otto spoke those fateful words.
Should he have accepted the man's offer?
Zeke almost slapped himself at the mere thought. He hated himself for even considering it for just a moment. He was well aware of what his fate would have been, had he returned to the empire. He would have been worked to the bone, fighting the wars of the empire. And to what end? There was no doubt that he would have ended up in a ditch sooner or later.
There was no way they would let him go. Not with the amount of hatred and disdain he carried for the four great families. No, accepting the offer would have been a death sentence, and who could say what gruesome fate would have awaited his family…
Zeke shook off those dark thoughts. He refocused his mind on what was most important at the moment — the future. The sudden bout of anger had managed to snap him out of his defeated state and rekindled the fire in his heart. So what if he had suffered a setback? This wasn't the first and it would not be the last, either. But hadn't he always gotten back up again?
No, this wasn't over. This would never be over, not until he stood victorious.
With his conviction reaffirmed, Zeke started to plan. There were several ways he could solve his most urgent problems. The public fallout with the empire had served more than one purpose. While he had created a mighty enemy, he had also made a lot of allies.
In the worst-case scenario, he could always rely on Korroven for manpower. He was not exactly enthusiastic about the idea of buying slaves to replenish his workforce, but at least they would be loyal… in a morbid kind of way. Zeke promised himself that this would only be a last resort. However, a different problem was weighing on his mind, and for this, he didn't have a solution.
The war was about to begin.
He had noticed as much from the atmosphere during the meeting. It had been like a powder keg, ready to explode. He wouldn't be surprised to learn that the empire started its offensive tomorrow.
But he… he wasn't ready.
Even if he had another year or two, it wouldn't make a difference. As a True Mage, there was very little he could do. Sure, he was strong compared to a normal person, but the empire employed Grand Mages in the thousands, maybe tens of thousands. Each and every one of them would be more than a match for him. Zeke's fists clenched on their own.
If only…
If only he was stronger….
If only he had a few more years…
How much would he have been able to do if he was given the time to finish even a fraction of his plans? The empire would have felt his wrath.
His balled-up fists relaxed and his head sank. It was all for naught. There was no point wondering about the what-ifs. The fact of the matter was that he wasn't ready, and he was left with no other choice than to bide his time and hope that he would remain safe here for the foreseeable future.
It was at this moment, that a grand existence finally opened its eyes again. Through its slitted pupils, the spirit observed the defiant expression on the boy's face for a long, silent moment. Its forked tongue flicked out as if to taste the air. Eventually, after another round of contemplation, the Dragon finally broke its silence.
"I know of many ways for you to increase your feeble strength, fleshling. Maybe — just maybe, we could find an arrangement that would benefit us both."