He offered capsules to Elena and Miri.
"Lord Yuki — Miri and I are not fighters. Surely these are too valuable—"
"Elena. You walk to the market. You take Miri through city streets. The world is dangerous and I can't always be there." He held out the capsules. "Take them. Please."
She took them. Fed one to Miri. Swallowed her own. In a world where strength was everything, they did not have the luxury to argue about it. If it would make them stronger, so that they could protect their loved ones, what choice did they have?
He watched with every detection spell active. The capsules dissolved on contact with stomach acid. The stored energy released — spreading through the body in a warm wave, suffusing cells, strengthening muscle fibres, increasing mana density. Every person in the room got visibly healthier in the span of thirty seconds.
Bella gasped. Her eyes went wide. "I can feel it. My mana reserve just — it grew. Noticeably."
Kana jumped. Literally jumped — higher than she should have been able to. She landed, looked at her legs, and jumped again. "I'm bouncy!"
Hana flexed her small fingers. Opened and closed her hands. Something behind her eyes was calculating.
Even Miri — sweet, gentle Miri — patted her arms with a confused expression and said "I feel tingly."
Bella turned to Yuki. The awe in her expression faded into something sharper. "If someone evil got their hands on these, they could build a superpowered army."
"Which is why these stay within the family. Only for us. And can only be give to someone outside of the family if we all agree on it. Given only to people we fully trust and know won't abuse the strength. Nobody else. Ever."
"Family," Bella said. Her heterochromatic eyes softened. "Does that mean we'll—"
Lira smacked the back of her head. Not hard. Just precisely calibrated to interrupt the sentence before it reached the word marry.
"No," Lira said. "It means we consider you a true member of the party."
Bella rubbed her head. "You didn't have to hit so hard."
"I calibrated perfectly."
"You calibrated with malice."
"Also perfectly."
Yuki laid down the rules.
"Three per day maximum for adults. Spread them out — morning, afternoon, evening. The capsules are potent and your bodies need time to integrate each one."
He handed Lira, Bella, and Elena each a jar of twenty. A week's supply.
Kana reached for a jar of her own.
"No."
"But—"
"Kids get one per week. I'll administer them personally."
"ONE? Per WEEK?"
"You're still growing. Your body needs to develop its own strength naturally. The capsules supplement — they don't replace proper growth." He looked at Bella. "Same for you. One per week."
Bella's composure cracked. She actually stomped her foot. "I am a princess of the Renvale Confederation and I demand—"
"One per week."
She stomped again. Smaller this time. Then she crossed her arms, huffed, and sat down.
Kana looked at Bella. Bella looked at Kana. A moment of shared outrage bridged the gap between five and thirteen.
"He's mean," Kana said.
"Agreed," Bella said.
"Too bad," Yuki said. "Moving on."
He sat down at the kitchen table. Elena had already started breakfast — the woman's internal clock didn't stop for wars, crises, or three-day sleeping spells.
"Next steps," Yuki said, taking a plate. "I need to deal with the Dominion eventually. They won't appreciate losing twenty thousand men without retaliating. That means a trip to their capital at some point — recon, disruption, maybe something more permanent."
Lira sat across from him. "That's a conversation for later. What about right now?"
"Right now, I want your dad to inspect the captured ships and materials. All of it — the warships, the wagons, the horses, the weapons. And I want him to negotiate with the kingdom's officials on selling what we don't need."
Lira tilted her head. "Sell? That's a lot of assets."
"Which is why I'm thinking bigger." He set his fork down. "Ten warships. Thousands of horses. Wagons. Supplies. We have the foundation for an entire trading company. Your father has the experience, the contacts, and the reputation. He could run it from Veldara — no more dangerous road trips, no more risking his life on caravan routes."
Lira went still.
"He wouldn't have to leave the city," Yuki continued. "He could manage the operation from here. Hire crews for the ships. Use the horses for land transport. The magic bags I've been making solve the cargo capacity problem. And with the money from selling the excess military equipment, the startup capital is already covered."
Lira's eyes were bright. Not with the sharp, calculating brightness of a negotiator. With something softer. Wetter.
"You — you've been thinking about this."
"Your dad's been on the road his whole life. He's good at it. But you won't be with him on his next trip, and I know you will worry. He shouldn't have to risk his life every trip. Not when we can set him up to run things from a desk."
She blinked. A tear escaped. She caught it quickly.
"I'll go tell him." She stood. Paused.
"He's family."
She made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh and wasn't quite a sob. Then she grabbed her jacket and ran out the door.
Varlen received the news the way he received everything — with a long silence, a calculating squint, and a series of questions that revealed he was already three steps ahead.
"Ten warships. How many are seaworthy?"
"All of them. Captured intact."
"Cargo capacity per vessel?"
"You'll have to inspect them."
"Crew requirements?"
"Existing Veldaran sailors. Plus whatever crew the kingdom doesn't want to keep on military payroll."
"Magic bags for perishable cargo?"
"I'll make as many as you need."
Varlen sat in his study — the modest room in his modest house that didn't match the scale of what was being proposed. He steepled his fingers.
"The Amber Road Trading Company has been a caravan operation for thirty years. My father started it with two wagons and a bad attitude." He looked at Lira. Then at Yuki. "You're proposing I turn it into a shipping empire."
"I'm proposing you stop getting attacked by bandits and monsters every time you want to move goods."
Silence. The calculating squint intensified.
"I'll need to inspect everything. Ships, horses, wagons, materials. And I'll need to negotiate the military surplus sale personally — kingdom officials will try to lowball us if they sense we're eager."
"Take whoever you trust and handle it all for me. Pay yourself whatever you want."
Varlen nodded slowly. Then he stood, walked to a cabinet, pulled out a bottle of something amber, and poured three glasses.
"To the new venture," he said.
They drank.
Varlen set his glass down and was already reaching for ledgers before Yuki and Lira were out the door. The man worked fast when he smelled opportunity.
Walking home through Veldara's streets, Lira was quiet. The good kind of quiet. The kind that came from processing something big.
"He looked happy," Yuki said.
"He looked like a man who just realised he doesn't have to sleep in a wagon anymore." She bumped her shoulder against his arm — she had to reach higher now, with his new height. "Thank you."
"It's practical. We have the assets. He has the skills."
"It's not just practical and you know it."
He did know it. But saying I want your father to be safe because he's the closest thing to a dad I have in this world felt like too much for a walk home.
So he just put his arm around her shoulder and they walked.
The city was still celebrating. Banners in the streets. Music from taverns. People in a good mood because they weren't under siege and someone had made that happen.
Someone with a mask and a lot of daggers and a power that grew every time he used it.
The Dominion will come back. Not today. Maybe not this month. But they'll come.
He'd deal with it. He always did.
But first — home. Dinner. Family. The sound of fox children arguing about who got the last honey candy.
That was enough for today.