"Now, why the long face, Karl? I am offering you a really good deal here," Emerson Rowland said with a confident smile. "I doubt you have ever seen this amount of money before, so you should be glad that we value your property this much." He spoke as though he were doing Karl an enormous favor rather than attempting to purchase something that had never been offered for sale. His confidence came from the fact that he genuinely believed the Sonnenbergs were simply an obscure family that had become wealthy by getting lucky.
Emerson was an elite graduate of Harvard with a PhD in economics, and he currently represented his private equity firm in the acquisition. From his perspective, the offer was already extremely generous, especially considering how much potential he believed the area possessed. The mana vein was located near a newly established town that showed considerable promise of eventually becoming a major city. The town also sat along an important shipping route between Germany and the Netherlands, making the surrounding land extremely attractive for future investment.
The mana vein itself was therefore only the beginning. His company wanted to establish a foothold in the region before the town became too valuable, and controlling such a resource would give them considerable leverage. Emerson had been given a substantial budget for the acquisition, and he was convinced that purchasing the land now would eventually produce an enormous return. He had no intention of leaving without securing the property.
More importantly, Emerson was not expecting resistance. According to the information provided to him, the Sonnenbergs were simply a family that had become wealthy after obtaining a mana vein. They had supposedly scraped together enough money to establish a guild and were now attempting to make the most of their fortunate circumstances. Emerson had therefore entered the negotiation expecting the family to be grateful that an American investment company was willing to offer them so much money.
He had imagined the Sonnenbergs dropping to their knees and thanking him for the opportunity. Instead, the family leader sitting across from him had yet to show even the slightest sign of gratitude. Emerson's confidence began to crack when he realized that Karl was not impressed by the amount of money sitting on the table. To Karl, the entire proposal seemed less like a generous offer and more like an insult.
"A good deal?" Karl asked coldly. "Who told you that, and when did we ever say that we were selling our land?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Karl's voice contained none of the excitement or hesitation Emerson had expected from someone being offered such a large sum of money. He did not even bother asking how much the offer was worth because the amount was irrelevant. The Sonnenbergs had never expressed an interest in selling their ancestral land in the first place.
"Of course it is a good deal, and you had better take it," Emerson replied. His confident smile returned as he leaned forward slightly. "Otherwise, the consequences will not be good for you, because we have a few friends here who would be more than willing to help redecorate this place."
Emerson was still completely immersed in the belief that he controlled the situation. He thought Karl was simply putting on a show of defiance because he wanted more money. The possibility that Karl genuinely had no intention of selling had apparently never entered his mind. In Emerson's experience, almost everything had a price.
"Oh?" Karl asked, his voice remaining ice-cold. "And what exactly will happen when we refuse?"
Karl paused for a moment before answering his own question. "Because we will refuse. We will never sell this land to you." His expression hardened as he looked directly at Emerson. "And since you clearly did not do your research, I will give you one opportunity to leave and pretend this conversation never happened."
The warning should have been enough. Instead, it enraged Emerson.
"No, Grandpa, you do not have a clue who you are talking to!" Emerson shouted. His carefully maintained professionalism disappeared completely as his anger took control. "How dare you speak to me in that tone?"
He pointed toward Karl as though the gesture itself demonstrated his authority. "I am backed by American money, and if you refuse this offer, I will have the mafia come here, rape your women, and kill your children." His voice grew louder with every word. "Then I will bulldoze this entire forest while you watch, and you can spend the rest of your life crying over your decision not to accept my incredible offer."
The room fell silent after the threat.
Emerson had completely lost sight of the fact that he was supposed to be negotiating. His only remaining objective was to force Karl into accepting the deal. The amount of money he had been given for the acquisition had already made him uncomfortable, because his superiors had allocated one million silver coins for the purchase.
To Emerson, that was far more money than should have been necessary. He had therefore planned to offer only half of the allocated amount while reporting that the acquisition had cost seven hundred thousand silver coins. If the deal succeeded, he could pocket the difference while still presenting himself to headquarters as an exceptional negotiator.
That would have been extremely useful for his career. A successful acquisition of such a valuable property would make him appear competent, allowing him to take on greater responsibilities in the future. More responsibilities would mean access to even larger and more lucrative deals, which was exactly what Emerson wanted.
He also preferred not to involve the local criminal gangs unless absolutely necessary. His company did not particularly object to such methods, and in fact, some people within the organization actively encouraged them because settlements paid afterward could be considerably cheaper than legitimate negotiations. The problem was that criminal operations took time and created complications.
More importantly, Emerson could not personally pocket the money spent on those settlements. He was not particularly fond of spending his own share of the profits on criminals when he could simply keep the money instead. That was one of the reasons he had brought only his American colleagues with him.
Those colleagues were also supposed to receive a portion of the profits later. Having several American employees present made the acquisition appear more legitimate while also ensuring that Emerson had people around him who could support his version of events. The mafia representative who had been arranged to accompany them had therefore been left behind.
That decision would soon become something Emerson regretted.
The mafia representative was currently standing in the reception wing of the Sonnenberg estate. At first, he had been casually examining the artifacts and historical displays mounted along the walls. He had expected an impressive family residence, but he had not expected the sheer amount of history contained within the building.
As he continued reading the stories attached to the various artifacts, however, his expression gradually changed. His hands began trembling, and the color slowly disappeared from his face. The more he read, the more obvious it became that the family he had been sent to intimidate was nothing like the family described in the information Emerson had received.
He knew he had time to think. He also knew that his current employer had made a catastrophic mistake.
"Hey, Arin," Bertho said quietly from a nearby tree. He was hanging upside down from one of its branches as he watched the man in the reception wing. "I think that one knows who we are."
Arin looked toward the man Bertho was indicating. The representative was slowly falling into despair, desperately looking around as though he hoped someone would appear and save him from the situation. His confidence had completely disappeared, and the fear in his eyes was becoming increasingly obvious.
"You are right," Arin replied. "But so what?"
Arin sounded exhausted rather than interested. He had already spent enough time dealing with the reception of the American negotiation team, and he had no desire to spend even more of his time speaking with their associates. "Let him die for all I care," he added with disgust.
Bertho glanced at him before shrugging. "That is your opinion, but maybe he has some information we can use."
He slipped down from the tree and landed on the ground before walking toward the building. "Let's go talk to him."
Arin reluctantly followed.
The two moved out of the shadows and entered the reception area. The mafia representative did not notice them immediately because he was too busy searching desperately for someone who could help him. He also failed to notice the four recruits standing quietly in the shadows around the artifacts.
The four recruits were guarding the displays because nothing in this wing could be left unattended. They were not even protecting the most valuable treasures owned by the Sonnenbergs, yet everything displayed throughout the reception wing was easily worth around one hundred thousand silver coins. That alone was enough to justify strict security.
The representative finally noticed Arin and Bertho.
"You are... you are one of the real ancient trade families," the man stammered. "They never told me that when I took this job."
His fear quickly overwhelmed him. He dropped to his knees and began pleading.
"Please, I will do anything," he begged through tears. "Please, just don't kill me. I will tell you anything you want to know. Please, just let me live."
His words came out incoherently as panic consumed him. He was no longer thinking about money, his employer, or the original purpose of his mission. Survival had become the only thing that mattered.
"We will consider it," Bertho replied calmly. "But the information needs to be good enough for you to leave this place alive."
The man immediately began nodding.
Then a wave of pure killing intent erupted from the end of the hallway.
The pressure struck him before he could say another word. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious before he even understood what had happened.
Arin froze for a moment.
He looked toward the end of the hallway and then back at the unconscious man. "Right," he muttered. "I do not know what they said to Grandpa to elicit that reaction, but they are screwed."
Arin took a single step backward as he noticed the yellow pool beginning to form beneath the unconscious man. His disgust returned immediately, but even that was overshadowed by the realization that the American delegation had managed to make a spectacular mistake.
Whatever had been said to Karl had clearly crossed a line.