Zeckram leaned back in his ornate chair, exhaling a long breath. "You took years of my carefully laid political schemes and boiled them down into a single sentence. I don't know whether to be proud or terrified of you, Rein."
Reinhardt just grinned, popping another chocolate. "Hehe, you're welcome! Just stating the obvious, old man."
"So," Zeckram's eyes sharpened. "You didn't come here just to insult the branch elders and eat my expensive candy. What do you want?"
"Two things, really," Reinhardt said, his tone becoming business-like. "First, I have 100 drops of Phenex Tears. I want to know if you're interested in buying them for the Bael House."
The room went deathly silent. The butler dropped the silver tongs he was holding, and Zeckram's jaw actually twitched.
"I'm sorry," Zeckram said, leaning forward. "My hearing must be going in my old age. Can you repeat that?"
"I said," Reinhardt replied slowly, as if speaking to a child, "I have 100 drops of Phenex Tears. Are you buying or not?"
Zeckram didn't answer with words. He lunged across the desk, grabbing Reinhardt's shoulders and checking his eyes and skin with frantic concern. "You fool! Did you drain yourself dry? How am I supposed to answer to your father's spirit if I let his only son turn himself into a walking medicine bottle just for profit?!"
Reinhardt swatted his grandfather's hands away, rolling his eyes. "You have a wild imagination, old man. Sit down, you're blushing like a maiden."
Zeckram huffed and sat back, his face indeed a bit red from the outburst. "Then explain where a fifteen-year-old gets a century's worth of supply in a week."
"My bloodline mutated," Reinhardt explained casually. "The combination of the Bael Destruction and the Phenex Flame triggered an evolution. I have the Original Phoenix Bloodline now. One drop of my tears is so potent it can be diluted into 50 standard-grade drops."
The butler stumbled back against the wall, and Zeckram frozen mid-breath. Then, the Great King of the Bael family threw his head back and roared with laughter, a sound of pure, unadulterated triumph.
"HA! A mutation! The Original Phoenix!" Zeckram wiped a tear from his eye. "To think, the other clans think you're just a grieving orphan, and here you are, a walking miracle! My descendant is anything but useless!"
"You're quite mean, old man," Reinhardt remarked with a smirk. "I was never useless."
The butler chuckled softly into his hand, while Zeckram calmed down, his eyes narrowing. "Wait. Those 100 drops that hit the black market two days ago at double the price... that was you, wasn't it?"
"Guilty as charged," Reinhardt said with a wink. "I made a killing."
Zeckram nodded, a devious smile forming on his face. "I'll buy them. All of them. Having a stockpile of that quality gives the Bael House absolute leverage when the war breaks out. Name your price, brat—though I expect a 'family discount'!"
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[Large Scale Trade Initiated!]
[Objective: Sell 100 Drops to the Bael House.]
[Potential Profit: 500,000,000+ Devil Coins.]
Zeckram settled back into his seat, his amusement lingering. "So, what is the second thing, Rein? You didn't come all this way just to become my primary medical supplier."
Reinhardt's expression flattened. "You may have heard about a little commotion on the Bael outskirts recently."
Zeckram nodded slowly. "I did. I already asked Butler Luthor to investigate the site. The heat signature was... unprecedented."
"It was me," Reinhardt said simply.
The silence that followed was heavy. Zeckram and Luthor stood frozen, their eyes wide as they processed the claim. "Why?" Zeckram asked, his voice low. "Why risk exposing yourself now?"
"Those three messengers," Reinhardt's voice turned cold as ice. "They were trash-talking my father. They called him a dog and me a useless brat. I made sure to burn them until not even their shadows remained."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop, but it wasn't from Reinhardt—it was from Zeckram. A terrifying, murderous pressure leaked from the "Great King." Astarion was his pride, his son, and Reinhardt was the grandson he doted on. To hear that someone had insulted them both in their own territory made his blood boil.
"Next time you find someone like that," Zeckram growled, his eyes glowing with malice, "break their legs and hands and bring them to me. I want to have a very long 'chat' with anyone who dares speak his name in vain."
Reinhardt nodded, acknowledging his grandfather's rage. Zeckram took a deep breath, calming himself. "But you didn't come here just to tell me that, did you?"
"Yes and no," Reinhardt replied. "I came to tell you my plan. I'm going to hide my true power—especially the fire—until the Civil War breaks out. When the chaos starts, I'm going to personally hunt down and slaughter every clan involved in my father's death. I need your help to ensure that once I remove them, I take their lands and their wealth."
Zeckram leaned forward, intrigued. "And what are you going to do with all that land and money?"
"I'm going to create a new clan," Reinhardt stated.
Zeckram blinked in surprise. "Why? If you want power, I can name you the head of the Bael Clan right now."
Reinhardt shook his head firmly. "No. After the Civil War, many clans will go extinct. The survivors—even the pure-bloods—will be desperate and full of schemes. Even though the Bael is the first pillar, we can't guarantee there won't be traitors or those who unite against us. If I create my own clan, the Bael House gets the backing of an entirely new, independent power. We'll be untouchable."
Zeckram went silent, contemplating the sheer ambition of the boy before him. He exchanged a glance with Luthor, who looked equally impressed. Finally, Zeckram nodded. "It's a bold move. Very well. I'll support you."
Reinhardt stood up, the tension breaking as he regained his playful smirk. "Great. Oh, and old man? A small favor."
"What is it, Rein?"
"Can you increase my pocket money? I haven't received anything for this month."
Zeckram froze. "What? I sent the funds weeks ago. Did you not receive it from your uncle's side either?"
"Not a single coin," Reinhardt replied, crossing his arms.
Zeckram's face turned a dangerous shade of purple. "I will inform your uncle Rhaziel immediately. I want to see which bastard has the nerve to steal from my grandson. I'll take care of it."
Reinhardt walked over and gave the old man a quick, genuine hug. "Thanks, old man. And bye, Uncle Luthor!"
As Reinhardt sauntered out of the mansion, Zeckram watched him go before turning to his butler with a look of pure fury. "Luthor. Inform Rhaziel Phenex about this. And find out which idiot in the Bael branch houses thinks they can pocket my grandson's money. I want their head on a platter."
Luthor bowed deeply, his eyes cold. "At once, Master."
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[Quest: Family Support]
Result: Zeckram is now your secret political backer.
Bonus: Zeckram and Rhaziel are about to start a "Purge" to find your missing money.