He looked at the bottle, then back towards the pot of cooling, rosemary-scented proto-liquid soap. The vision snapped into sharp focus. The product, the unique and elegant packaging, the untapped market… it wasn't just a plan anymore; it felt like destiny. A slightly greasy, rosemary-scented destiny, but destiny nonetheless.
The soap empire wasn't just viable; it was going to be beautiful. And incredibly profitable, he fervently hoped. Now, his internal pragmatist reminded him sharply, you just need to make about five hundred more of these masterpieces. And perfect the liquid soap recipe. And source olive oil. And figure out distribution, pricing, branding, guild negotiations… Small details. But for the first time, the path to accumulating those desperately needed System Coins felt clear, tangible, and surprisingly elegant. Even if it started with cow fat and wood ash.
----
The following morning dawned crisp and clear, sunlight slanting through the tall windows of the suite, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air like tiny, indifferent diamonds. For once, Lloyd Ferrum didn't wake up on the sofa feeling like he'd gone ten rounds with a poorly upholstered opponent. He'd slept deeply, the profound satisfaction of creation – the successful lye extraction, the promising soft soap, the exquisitely crafted dispenser bottle – outweighing the physical discomfort of his sleeping arrangements. The soap empire felt real now, tangible, a viable path towards the System Coins he desperately needed.
He rose quickly, energy thrumming beneath his skin. Today was presentation day. Time to convince his skeptical, powerful father that investing a small fortune in 'luxury soap' wasn't the act of a lunatic heir, but a stroke of strategic genius. He dressed with care, choosing a well-cut but understated tunic and trousers – projecting quiet confidence, not ostentatious display.
As he finished adjusting his collar, he turned towards the figure seated perfectly still in the velvet armchair near the cold fireplace. Rosa. She wasn't reading this morning, simply gazing out the window, her profile serene, inscrutable, bathed in the morning light. An Ice Queen contemplating her frozen domain. The air around her felt, as always, several degrees cooler than the rest of the room.
Lloyd hesitated for only a fraction of a second. Protocol dictated leaving her undisturbed unless absolutely necessary. Their interactions were usually limited to strained silences or curt dismissals (mostly from her side). But today… today required a deviation. His plan needed her presence, not for support, obviously, but for… witness. For the subtle political weight her attendance would lend, intended or not. And perhaps, just perhaps, a tiny, perverse part of him wanted to see her reaction to his unorthodox presentation. Disrupting her icy calm, even momentarily, was becoming a fascinating side quest.
"Rosa," he began, his voice calm, carefully neutral, breaking the comfortable silence she seemed to cultivate.
Her head turned slowly, deliberately. Those dark, obsidian eyes fixed on him, holding no discernible emotion, just cool, penetrating awareness. The silent question – What disturbance warrants this intrusion? – hung heavy in the air between them.
"I am going to see Father now," Lloyd stated simply. "To present the prototype I promised him." He paused, then took the plunge. "I request your presence."
A delicate eyebrow, perfectly sculpted, arched almost imperceptibly. It was the only outward sign of surprise, quickly suppressed. "My presence?" Her voice was a low murmur, devoid of inflection. "For what purpose? My attendance at your… business discussions… is neither required nor, I would assume, desired." The implication was clear: We barely tolerate sharing a room; why would you voluntarily seek my company in front of your father?
"Desired?" Lloyd allowed a faint, wry smile to touch his lips. "Perhaps not in the conventional sense." He met her cool gaze directly. "However, Father agreed to consider my proposal – the one requiring significant investment. He set a deadline, which is today. Having you present as I demonstrate the viability of my venture lends… weight. Credibility." He deliberately framed it in logical, almost political terms he thought she might appreciate. "It demonstrates unity, however nominal, within the immediate family regarding a potential Ferrum enterprise."
He saw her consider this, her eyes holding that familiar flicker of sharp assessment. His reasoning holds a certain political logic, she likely concluded internally. Presence implies cohesion, potentially advantageous depending on the outcome. The personal cost – merely time – is negligible.
"Furthermore," Lloyd added, unable to resist pushing slightly, adding a touch of intrigue, "I believe you might find the demonstration… interesting. Unexpected, perhaps."