Dirk had settled into an easier life than he’d been expecting.


    In the coming days, Willem agreed to take ownership of the lodgings that Countess Anne Claire had provided in exchange for giving her some profits off the top of the fund. His things—a chest of gold, and little else—were moved into the portside building. Anne Claire ‘forgot’ about some clothes and furniture that the servants had ‘left behind’—clothes that fit Willem suspiciously well. Dirk suspected she’d planted them there, but Willem never mentioned anything.


    Despite his incessant banter, Willem was very low-maintenance. He ate very humble meals like bread, beets, cabbage, or fish, but had a particular fondness for lobster. The shellfish appeared on the coast in tremendous quantities, often to the degree they were used as food for prisoners. Willem loved lobster, though bizarrely insisted they be cooked alive. Dirk thought it strange, yet couldn’t deny it tasted better.


    Willem lived extremely frugally. Everything he purchased, he sought to learn the business and economics. He bypassed merchants and went straight to the suppliers. From them, he learned all the intricacies about the business. He spoke to competition, too, and sought out potential headwinds. Willem was as shrewd as he was inquisitive—he negotiated deals for just about everything, from his water supply to his food. With a small amount of legwork, Willem managed to convince countless people to sell him things at such a low cost it might as well have been free.


    It astounded Dirk how much overflowing confidence earned the man. Willem could hear the words ‘no’ eighty times, but the answer would eventually be ‘yes’ simply because he never let up. People insulted him, even spit at him occasionally, yet Willem engaged them honestly. He whittled them down with rationality, boundless shamelessness, and a touch of charm. And true to his word, Willem never lied. Not once. Dirk even tried to get him to lie without success.


    Most notably, Willem never once mentioned that he was Willem van Brugh, son of the Shield of the North, master of the warrior’s power of aura. Even when news reached Gent that Baron Tielman was alive, the young lord didn’t seem to care in the slightest. Willem was strong enough he could kill a hundred people in one minute, but instead he endured scathing tirades from the most unpleasant people Dirk had ever met without batting an eye. It was a far cry from the monstrous outcast noble Dirk had been expecting to work for. He took notice of that.


    Not merely Dirk—others, too, were impressed by Willem’s behavior. He made his name known in the city: Willem, the thrifty young man who asked too many questions, never took no for an answer, and could make you look foolish with his words alone. Even after doing all of that day by day, Willem always retired by poring over the records he’d received from the count’s estate and the church’s record of people’s finances for tithes.


    About a week and half into it, however, when Dirk was walking down the stairs to the first floor after waking up….


    “Sit down, Dirk,” said Willem, gesturing to a chair across from his.


    Dirk, who’d just woken up, rubbed his eyes wearily and shuffled over to the table. He sat down, glancing from side-to-side nervously.


    “What is this?” Dirk asked. He looked around. “You’ve rearranged all the furniture.”


    “Because this first floor is going to be the reception area.” Willem nodded. “Needs to be neat and clean for the people that come in. Over there’s my office, now. And that room…” He gestured vaguely. “I’ll figure it out. Maybe it can be the vault, where I swim in gold coins naked.”


    Dirk sat up, his morning fatigue draining in moments. “We’re getting started? The mutual aid society, I mean.”


    “What else?” Willem gently prodded over a piece of paper. “I have a list of clients I intend to reach out to start with. I think you’re going to have the most success chatting up the wives of wealthy merchants. I’ve learned quite well who’s reliable, who can be trusted. We have the charters from Anne Claire giving us legitimacy and legality, and I’ve gone over the numbers. Now, it’s time to start building our pile of capital.”


    Dirk swallowed and took the paper. “Hold on—I’m going to have a great deal of success with the wives of wealthy merchants?”Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    “Business success, I should stress. Don’t get excited, Dirk. You’ll embarrass yourself.”


    “You want me to bring in these households as customers?” Dirk raised the paper, his eyes wide. “All of them?”


    “Most of them. I’m realistic in my expectations for you.” Willem leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “You’ve been shadowing me the whole time, and people know you’re associated with me. I’ve worked out an incentive-based compensation plan. I’ll pay you a salary, but each one of those people that comes into my office interested in joining the Society of Assured Prosperity will net you a decent bonus—more if I close the deal. You bring them in, I finalize the deal. Simple for now, until we expand our ranks.”


    “That’s crazy. I’ve never… I’ve no experience in—”


    “The past week and a half, I’ve given you a masterclass in negotiation and basic affability.” Willem leaned into the table. “I’ve amply demonstrated how a salesman, how a negotiator, should act. How they should be able to endure any indignity, and how they should be able to make any compromise within reason to get what they want. If you try what I did, I’m positive you’ll figure it out.”


    Dirk set down the paper, too baffled to even read its contents. “But I’m not you,” he said earnestly. “You’re, well… very competent at dealing with people, as much as I think you’re odd and bizarre and possibly delusional.”


    Willem mimed writing on another piece of paper on the table. “Keep talking, I’m just lowering your starting salary.”


    “I’m serious,” Dirk said. “I don’t think I can do what you do.”


    “Dirk…” Willem sighed. “I give you a lot of grief. It amuses me, and I’m largely confident you don’t take what I say seriously. Even if you did, I am something of an asshole, so it still tracks. But!” Willem tapped the table between them. “You’re reliable. If you say you’ll do something, you always get it done—no half-measures. You’re diligent—you have to be, to match my whims. And, above all, you have integrity. I haven’t counted the spoons, largely because I don’t think I need to with you around. You never once acted in a manner where I thought you’d steal from me or otherwise act unethically.”


    Dirk blinked in stunned silence, more than shocked that Willem had those high opinions of him. But beneath that, he felt a quiet swell of accomplishment, pride. He felt recognized. At some point, he’d come to respect Willem’s opinion, and felt some joy the man assessed him highly.


    “You’re an aura user. I couldn’t steal without you noticing,” Dirk deflected.


    “Yeah, whatever. Point is, you’re good. And you’re damned smart, too. I’m confident you can pick this stupid stuff up. A smart kid like you, a brilliant teacher like me?” Willem threw his arms up. “If you failed, you’d embarrass the world.”


    “But… a salary? Compensation? I already work for you.” Dirk looked at the paper, reading some of the names. “My fee was paid long ago by your father. You don’t need to go these lengths. My contract dictates I should do all of this anyway.”


    “I didn’t write your contract, nor pay your fee.” Willem shook his head. “Good work deserves good pay. It’s good business sense to acquire talent and nurture it. When your contract is over, I want you to keep working here until you’re eighty years old out of a deep sense of possibly misguided loyalty to the business empire I’ve inevitably built in that time.”


    “Right. Yeah.” Dirk picked up the paper, reading it over in silence. Already, he recognized some of the names on this list. He felt some nervousness as he imagined talking to them. “If I’m honest, I still think you’re more than a little delusional about how this is going to end up.”


    “All of us have stupid, misguided beliefs at some point in life,” Willem said as he nodded sagely. “As you age, you’ll discard them. That’s called wisdom.”


    “I’ll try my best.” Dirk nodded. “I’ll try my damnedest to make sure I’m wrong.”


    “The promise of money tends to have that effect.” Willem smiled. “Good decision. You won’t regret it. You start today. If there isn’t a client in my office by the end of the day, I will mock you as you make my dinner.”


    “Thanks. Thanks for that.” Dirk sighed, then looked at Willem more seriously. “Thank you, Willem. Sincerely.”


    “Yeah, yeah, I’m the best, the greatest.” He rose to his feet. “Daylight is wasting. Get going.”


    Dirk felt a rumbling nervousness fiercer than any ocean current disturbing his guts as he looked at the various names on the paper. But after having seen what Willem could eke out in terms of deals… Dirk couldn’t say that it would be impossible.


    The confidence to ask, the readiness to be refused, and the persistence to keep trying despite that. That was all it took.