I knock. "Enter."

The door opens. He's already seated, posture relaxed in a way that dares you to speak out of turn. Beard the color of sand, brows thick, grey threading his hair. He looks like me. It infuriates me. One leg crosses over the other. His hands rest on his knees, still wearing the family coat, despite the heat. The crest of the three roses is embroidered proudly on the chest, as it is on mine.

"Youngest," he says. His voice hasn't changed. Cold. Measured.

"Father."

My eldest brother stands beside him, silent, gazing out the window at the sea. From here, one can see the galleons. The wage shift. Reds traded like cattle.

I give him a nod, and he squints slightly but says nothing.

My father speaks again. "What do we have to hear from you now?"

His tone drips with irritation, and I want to match it. But I don't. I wear a smile instead. Hollow. Practiced. It makes my stomach churn.

"Regarding the transportation of the reds," I begin. My thoughts have been simmering since I left the golden headquarters, nearly a full day's journey, and now they must boil.

"…it is inefficient."

My eyes meet his. His gaze is a slab of ice. Blue against blue. But unlike him, I see the sea.

"Elaborate."

He leans forward. So does my brother, turning ever so slightly.

"The golden moon," I say, "beautiful as it is—vast and divine, yes—but it ravages both sea and land. The waves. The floods. We all know what it brings. The Continent of Death suffers under it. As does the Continent of the Pigs, Earth."

I take a step forward, casting my gaze over his shoulder to the sea.

"We're playing it safe. Too safe. If we truly aim to dominate this continent—if we want to stand above the rest, above the high-bloods—then we must act like it. No more drips. We need floods. No more months of waiting for a few. We need masses, and we need them now."

My smile stays. My insides rebel.

"There is risk, of course, but the flood only comes once a week. My acquaintance—reliable—tells me it passed just yesterday. If we act now, we could cut our time in half. Or better."

I pace a little, slowly, like a predator circling its prey.

"We could double our intake. Triple it, even. And if we scale correctly, we could increase revenue fivefold. Five times the current income of our family. In less than two weeks, we'd be wealthier than the entire royal family. We would have more influence, and we could rule over Zentria—probably even the entirety of Elisia—if we play it smart against the other kingdoms." I catch a slight breath. Never have I spoken this much in front of the cold man who rules over the Rosenmahl estate. He eyes me now, and shockingly, he smiles back. For a moment, I believe the world itself has stopped.

But then Sebastian interrupts me.

"What if the flood takes all the ships down?"

I press my nails into my palms, trying to relax my arms so I don't reveal anything. In the end, I force a confident smile. "Then we will take the loss." I meet my father's gaze—cold meeting cold. "But if we don't take this chance, I don't believe their Highnesses will remain friendly with us. Up until now, perhaps because they saw opportunity and profit, they tolerated us. And though they are Oranges, they aren't stupid. They'll eventually realize we're making enough money to wield war ourselves. Now is the time for that realization—especially since nearly none of their kind remain in Elisia."

I take another step forward, loosening my fingers. My white palm floods with blood—hot and cold at once. My Vi@r#tu#a!l* L$ibr-a.ry Em+pi&r-e* (@*$)-

"They might start to believe we'll begin forging ties with the false gods, just like in the great fall of Empire Delora. That we might gain enough influence and wealth to buy their higher bloodlines."

Sebastian glares at me. My father, on the other hand, nods in agreement, his thick thumb stroking over his beard.

So I continue.

"Before they even start to think of it—before they can retreat, imprison us, fabricate something to take us all down—we should already have it all. We need to strike first. Now is the time for it. Perhaps it's already late—but tomorrow will be too late. Either we sacrifice now, or we lose it all shortly."