Rewrite That Witch
CH1213 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1213: The Beginning of an Enterprise

For the past six months, Victor Lothar’s body had been in the Southern Territory while his attention stayed fixed on Neverwinter.

He was certain — more certain with each passing season — that this city would become the center of the world. Not just of Graycastle. The other three kingdoms and the Fjords would feel it too, eventually, as a man feels a change in weather before the clouds arrive. Victor had his men purchase Graycastle Weekly every day and forward a copy to the Port of Clearwater, so he could read it alongside his morning tea as though he had never left.

Two events had pulled him back in person. The first was the sale of the Miracle Building. The second was a new magic movie: The Dust of History.

The identification card requirement for the Miracle Building still baffled him. He was a Neverwinter resident — he held papers, paid taxes here, owned property — and yet he traveled to the Port of Clearwater and the City of Glow without interruption. What did a card change? He was a merchant; the world was his address. But he had set his confusion aside, because nobody with any sense of the future would pass up a chance to live — or at least own — inside the tallest residential building on the continent, at the center of the new king’s city. The Miracle Building was a statement. Attaching the Rainbow Stone name to that address was worth more than any advertisement he could buy.

Still, if the purchase fell through, he would not lose sleep. As the designated cotton seed distributor appointed by King Roland, his position was already secure. The movie interested him more.

He would never forget the first one he had watched.

He had felt his body dissolve — that was the only honest description — the moment the curtains swept back. His physical self had ceased to exist. He had watched The Wolf Princess four times and would have watched it a dozen more if the Southern Territory hadn’t demanded his presence.

He knew almost nothing about the content of The Dust of History, but two details in the announcement had fixed themselves in his mind. The entire cast was drawn from the Star Flower Troupe. And the screenwriter was Kajen Fels.

There was more. According to the introduction, the movie was based on true events; King Roland had personally assisted with historical research and was said to have unsealed a royal archive kept secret for generations. Victor had not survived twenty years in trade by treating street rumors as gospel. The only way to verify anything was to watch it himself.

That, ultimately, was why he had come back.

The moment Victor arrived at the Administrative Office, Tinkle joined the ticket queue. Each premiere ticket cost fifty gold royals — ten more than The Wolf Princess had cost. Victor handed her a hundred and told her to buy two. She took the money with both hands and walked to the front of the queue with her chin raised a full inch higher than usual. Around her, foreign merchants turned to stare; even those with deep pockets paused before committing to premiere prices. The cost would fall tomorrow, and drop to ten silver royals for ordinary citizens the following week. Tinkle knew this perfectly well and appeared to consider it irrelevant.

The apartment transaction was more complicated. After Victor submitted his application, a clerk led him and Tinkle into a small room.

“I can’t believe you actually have a Neverwinter Identification Card,” Tinkle said, voice low. “You’re not from Graycastle. You weren’t even a Border Town resident.”

“You’re forgetting that anyone who purchases property in Neverwinter becomes a resident,” Victor said.

“Yes, but you’ve always lived at the tavern —”

“Living in a tavern doesn’t prevent me from owning real estate. I prefer the tavern. But I bought a property here, just in case.”

Tinkle stared at him.

Victor enjoyed this quality in her — the way she received information with her whole face, without guarding herself. A lady of breeding would have decided he was an idiot and kept the verdict behind her teeth. Tinkle simply looked at him as though the world had just revealed another dimension she hadn’t known existed.

A young woman in a clerk’s uniform came in. “Good afternoon — sorry for your wait. I’m Betty, from the Administrative Office. I’ll be handling your registration today.”

“I’m —”

“Victor Lothar.” Betty moved fast; she had clearly reviewed the file before entering the room. “Your application is in order — you’re eligible to purchase. I have to say, out of every available building in Neverwinter, you chose the Miracle Building.” A beat. Something like genuine admiration in her voice. “The landmark of the city. The entire skyline from the upper floors. The price is steep, but it is absolutely worth every coin.”

Victor registered a faint wrongness — the instinct of a man who had bought and sold things long enough to recognize when he was the only one at the table — and cleared his throat. “So. What does it cost?”

Betty set a sheet of paper in front of him.

Victor unfolded it. A muscle twitched once at the corner of his mouth. The prices ran by floor: under a hundred gold royals for the first five, then doubling each floor above the fifth. The fourteenth floor was listed at two thousand gold royals.

Tinkle clapped both hands over her mouth.

“The fifteenth floor has no price?” Victor said.

“The Astrology Association and the Alchemist Workshop purchased it jointly. I’m told they’re planning to found a Society of Sage and use it as the headquarters —”

“I’ll take the fourteenth floor,” Victor said.

Betty blinked.

“Two rooms.”

The same blink, slower.

Four thousand gold royals. It was the largest single expenditure of Victor’s life, and he had been on the verge of taking only one room when Betty said the words Society of Sage. Those two words had closed the question. If Neverwinter was becoming the center of the world, then this building would house the institutions shaping what that world believed and discovered. Placing the Rainbow Stone headquarters one floor below them was not vanity. It was positioning.

“An excellent choice, Mr. Victor.” Betty seized his hand and shook it. “I’ll fetch the contract immediately. Once you sign, both rooms are yours.”

She hurried out. Victor watched the door close behind her.

“I somehow feel,” he said, “that she’s the one making a purchase, not me.”

“She probably has a sales target,” Tinkle murmured.

“A what?”

“I heard it from tavern customers. Every clerk and official at the Administrative Office is evaluated on a regular schedule — the results determine raises and promotions.”

“Ah.” Victor sat back. “That explains why everyone here works as though their life depends on it.”

He filed it away. Something worth borrowing.

“By the way,” Tinkle said, carefully, “you aren’t leaving both rooms empty, are you? After spending four thousand gold royals?”

“I’ll keep living at the tavern.”

“But then what are the rooms for?”

“The Lothar Corporation needs a proper headquarters.” He had intended only to hang a banner advertising Rainbow Stone when he first made the decision. Betty’s mention of the Society of Sage had expanded the plan. One room for offices. One room for a showroom and reception — a place where buyers could meet the brand not through a merchant’s stall but through a space that declared itself. “Two floors below the Society of Sage,” he added. “That will mean something, eventually.”

Tinkle looked at the door Betty had just gone through, then back at him, weighing it.

“You’ve already decided all of this,” she said. Not a question.

“I decided it about thirty seconds after she mentioned the Society of Sage.”

She shook her head, and something in her face shifted from confusion into something closer to respect — the look of a person watching someone else move across a board she hadn’t known was there.

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