Chapter 9: Worst Things First
The trading port buzzes with activity as I adjust the bundle of gardening supplies in my arms. Parking Partner at the passenger port above the capital for everyone to see? I'll pass on that for now. Next to me, Dad strides confidently, dressed in attire fitting high nobility. It's still strange seeing him like this—it doesn't match the practical farmer image burned into my mind.
"How did your visit to the royal palace go?" I ask, breaking the silence.
"About as expected," Dad replies, his tone calm but laced with weariness. "The size of our... discovery has drawn enough attention that we've been summoned to appear before the king. The court session is in a few days."
I mutter, "At least we can directly ask the king for permission for our wharf." Knowing him hell grate it without batting an eye.

As we walk, workers and merchants part before us. The conversation shifts to Zola—her looming presence casts a shadow over everything we've achieved so far.
"She'll hear about the discovery sooner or later," Dad says, his brow furrowed. "The question is whether we act now or wait until everything is official."
I adjust my grip, the handles digging into my palms. "Waiting just gives her time to scheme."

A red-eyed drone appears beside us, and Cleare's unmistakably chipper voice cuts in. "Actually, acting early would be the optimal strategy! Zola's behavior around your family can only really be observed by Merce, Rutart, and the mansion staff. Everyone else in the capital hasn't seen you together."
"Thanks, Luxion," I reply, dripping with sarcasm. "What would we do without your insights?"
She pauses, then tries adopting Luxion's analytical tone. "This course of action is optimal, Master Leon."
I can't help but snicker at her impression, though Dad just shakes his head. "Is that really necessary?"
"Yes, it is," she retorts, though the cheerful undertone of her voice betrays her. "If someone finds out about me, it's better to show the harsher side of my personality."
No one's mistaking her for Luxion anytime soon. It's just a contingency plan anyway.

When we arrive at Partner, Yumaria and Kyle wait just past the entrance. Yumaria eyes Dad's outfit curiously, tilting her head. "You look... strange," she remarks smiling, her soft voice like always.
Dad raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. "It's formal attire."
"I know," she replies. "But I've never seen someone nice like you wearing that. It doesn't suit you, my Lord."
Kyle stretches out his hands towards Dad, glancing at the bag hes holding. Dad hands it over. "Thank you, Kyle. Take this to Leon's room, will you?"
The boy hesitates for a moment, then nods, clutching the bag tightly. "Yes, sir."
"Leon," Dad says, turning to me. "You should get ready as well. We have business to attend to."

Before heading to my room, I drop the gardening supplies off in Yumaria's improvised gardening room. "Here. These should help. Are you sure you want to stay here? There are plenty of other rooms."
Her face lights up as she takes the tools. "Thank you, Lord Leon! You're so thoughtful! But why would I want to stay anywhere else?"
She's completely smitten with her plants. "Fair enough," I mutter.

Inside my room, Kyle has already unpacked the bag.
"Thanks for the help," I say. Kyle looks at me, his expression a mix of nervousness and defiance. "It's my job," he mutters, though there's no malice in his tone.
Together, we wrestle me into the fine clothes Dad brought. The fabric is stiff and the whole ensemble screams discomfort.
"You're going to complain the whole time, aren't you?" Kyle says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Absolutely," I reply, grinning back.

The Bartfort's mansion in the capital looms ahead. I've never been inside—Dad sold it after Zola fled during the war in my last life. At the gates, a gruff gatekeeper steps forward, his expression wary. Behind him, a few maids linger, sneaking dreamy glances at something behind the wall.

"State your business," the gatekeeper demands.
Dad steps forward. "I'm Balcus fou Bartfort, returning my estate."
The gatekeeper snorts. "Right. And I'm the king."
Before Dad can respond, Rutart's voice cuts through the tension. "What's going on here?" He strides over, from past the wall, wiping sweat from his brow. When he sees us, his expression softens. "Ah, Father. Leon. Welcome."
The gatekeeper steps aside hastily, muttering apologies.
Rutart gestures for us to enter. "First time seeing you here. What brings you to the capital, dressed like that?"
Dad nods at him. "I need to report something to your mother."
Rutart's brows furrow slightly. "Must be important if you're here in person." He lowers his voice, adding, "She won't like being surprised."

Inside, the staff pretends to be busy. Younger maids sneak glances at Rutart, giggling behind their hands. One stumbles over a bucket, earning a sharp glare from an older maid.

Dad knocks on the door to what should be his office.
"Come in already," Zola's voice calls, irritated. She probably thinks we're servants.
Taking a deep breath, Dad opens the door, and I follow. The room is ostentatious, adorned to the point of tackiness. Exactly what I expected.
Zola's expression twists the moment she sees us. "What's this? Who let you in here?" she snaps, glaring at us like pests.
Dad clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable but pushing forward. "Zola, we're here to discuss an important matter."
She raises an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. "Important? You? Don't make me laugh. What could you possibly have to say that's worth my time?"

Clenching my fists, I bite my tongue. Dad, still meek around her, begins. "We recently discovered an unclaimed island. It contained a dungeon, and we've claimed it, along with a lost item—a ship."
Zola's lips curl into a creepy smile. "How fortunate for you. I hear you wasted money on some expedition. Lucky your gamble paid off."

"Yes," Dad says, keeping his tone steady. "I'm here to inform you of further progress."

"Oh, how considerate," she coos, her smile growing sharper. "And just how do you plan to handle this discovery? Surely you're aware such assets fall under my jurisdiction."

"We've already reported it to the crown," Dad replies carefully.

The smile vanishes from her face. She stands abruptly. "You did what?" Her voice rises, trembling with fury. "You went over my head? Who gave you the authority—"
"What authority?" I snap, stepping forward. "You're just a parasite lining your pockets! Dad is the family head. You'd probably siphon most of it past the tax office just to fund your lavish lifestyle!"
Zola's eyes blaze. Her hand lashes out, striking me hard across the face. The sting reverberates through my cheek.
Before she can say another word, a red beam shoots from behind her, searing a hole in her shoe, stopping just shy of her skin. She stumbles back, pale with shock. Her slaves rush forward, but similar beams strike their arms and legs, forcing them to retreat.

"This is another thing we found," I say coldly, gesturing to the hovering drone now visible in the room. "It's a lost item that will follow you and burn you anytime you try to hurt our family." I pause, meeting her stunned gaze. "That was your last slap. You won't survive the next one."
Dad steps in, his voice much calmer than before. "Here's how this will work, Zola. You can stay in this mansion and play the noble lady. But Merce and Rutart are coming home with us. Your budget will be reduced to something reasonable. The same goes for the staff."

Zola opens her mouth to protest, but another beam zips past her ear. She clamps her lips shut.
Dad continues, now unfazed by Zola's trembling. "If you want more pocket money, you can work for the family. Administer this mansion properly, for example. As for your slaves, they'll work on our fields until their contracts run out or they choose to break them. But as long as you don't harm the family, you'll be free to do as you please."
Zola slumps back into the couch, her face pale and sweaty. "You… you can't do this…" she whispers, her voice feeble.
Ignoring her protest, Dad turns to leave, his tone casual but decisive. "By the way, we'll be staying here for a while. The rest of the family will arrive soon, so prepare rooms for us. I'll inform the staff of the changes tomorrow."

As we step out of the office and into the hallway, Cleare's voice chimes in. She's clearly attempting to mimic Luxion's cold and calculated tone, but the cheerful undertone betrays her. "Well done, Baron. At first, due to the way you spoke to her, I didn't believe you were capable of executing the plan effectively."
I suppress a laugh. Nice try, Cleare, but Luxion you are not.
Dad, oblivious to Cleare's awkward delivery, rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah and Leon had to step in for me again… I just hope that was enough. Sorry you'll have to keep an eye on her from now on, Cleare."
"Ah, worry not," Cleare replies, her attempt at a serious tone faltering into her natural chipper cadence. "It's just one of my drones monitoring her. The rest of my drones can handle far more intellectually stimulating pursuits."

I shake my head with a smirk. "If you're trying to sound like Luxion, you might want to tone it down a notch."
Her lens flickers with mock indignation. "I'll have you know this is a professional impression of him! Calculated, efficient, and… uh…" She trails off before sheepishly adding, "… maybe a bit too cheerful?"

"A bit?" I quip, raising an eyebrow.
Dad chuckles, finally catching on. "Well, whether you're Luxion or not, you're doing fine. Just… make sure Zola doesn't cause any trouble, please."
"Of course, Baron!" Cleare chirps, abandoning the pretense of mimicry entirely. Her usual bubbly demeanor shines through.

As we walk away, I chuckle to myself. "Efficient resource allocation, huh?"

A/N

This was a slugfest again... I originally planned to have Zola confront our boys in the setting of the next chapter, but I kept thinking about what would be the approach of Leon and co. for two days. I'm still unsure, but since they're overly powerful in compression to Zola, it didn't really matter.

Let's hope the next one rolls easier of the pen.

So, like always, please comment if there is anything on your mind. All non shitposts are appreciated.