Rebirth System: Blood and Ash

He still rembered vividly the order of the emperor but thought it better to not dwell on it yet.

Pushing himself out of bed, he was greeted by a familiar sight—his daily subquest panel, floating in front of him, waiting for him to complete it. Despite the mild headache and fatigue, he was determined to follow through.

Dropping to the floor, he began his push-ups.

…

Nearly an hour had passed, and sweat had pooled beneath him, but there was no sign of blood—only sweat.

"Am I... done?" Aric asked, needing reassurance as he glanced at the completion panel.

"Yes, today’s S-quest has been successfully completed," the guide floating beside him confirmed.

He could hardly believe it. Not only had he finished with much more ease, but he hadn’t even suffered a nosebleed, as he usually did. Impressed by his progress, Aric cleaned himself up and left his room.

Outside, the estate guards—what remained of them—stood at attention, vigilant as they guarded the manor. As they saw Aric, they swiftly, and with upmost respect, greeted the fourth prince.

Aric couldn’t help but chuckle internally at the change. Though these three had never openly disrespected him, they had never shown this level of reverence either.

"Good morning," Aric responded to their greetings. He pointed to two of the guards, one with dark, disheveled hair and a scraggly beard, and the other with bright emerald eyes. "You two, what are your names?"

"Zahai, Your Highness," the first one replied.

"Meholt," said the other.

Aric already knew the third guard’s name—Alan—from his past life, as he had been the only one Aric had a relationship with.

"Both of you, take off your armor. We’re going to pay someone a visit."

———

Aric, accompanied by Zahai and Meholt, arrived at the Imperial Exchequer—a grand building of marble and granite, its stone facade carved with artistic precision. Imperial guards patrolled the premises, although it did not posses nearly as much as the imperial treasury, a considerable amount of wealth was retained within, hence the protection.

This building held each accountant that managed the finances of the empire and royal family.

As they entered, the three men were saluted by the guards, while onlookers whispered and stared. They walked through the large lobby, down a hallway, and stopped before a massive door. Carved into the granite wall beside it were the words: Fiscal Court of the 4th Prince.

This was supposed to be the office handling all monetary matters for the fourth prince—well, it was supposed to be.

Aric pushed open the door and was met with a sight that filled him with disgust. His court’s supposed accountants lounged across the large room, drinking and indulging with courtesans.

The smell of cheap wine assaulted his nostrils as he walked further in. Some of the men were too skeptical to believe their eyes, and others were too drunk to understand the situation, but there, walking through the obscenity, was the very prince they were supposed to be working for.

As some tried to sober up and make sense of the situation, Aric burst through the final door at the end of the room, entering a confined office.

The man inside, seemingly in his mid-thirties, looked completely stunned as Aric and the two guards barged in.

"Aric..." he muttered in shock, his gaze shifting between the prince, Zahai, and Meholt.

Aric walked to the desk, pulled out a chair, and sat across from the man. Zahai and Meholt positioned themselves menacingly on either side of the treasurer.

"Devan, my trusted treasurer, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?" Aric’s tone was light, almost conversational.

Devan’s expression shifted from shock to fear. He had heard rumors of Aric’s ordered beheading, and he knew the prince’s presence here was anything but a good sign.

"Yes, Your Highness," Devan stammered.

"Well, I don’t have much time. Where are my funds?" Aric went straight to the point, his tone sharpening.

"I—I’m not sure what you mean," Devan lied, attempting to maintain composure.

Aric’s smile faded, disappointment flashing across his features as he shook his head. "Wrong answer," he muttered.

Without warning, Zahai grabbed Devan’s head and slammed it into the desk in front of him. A sickening crunch echoed through the room as Devan clutched his bleeding, broken nose, groaning in pain.

Unfazed, Aric repeated his question. "Where are my funds?"

Devan, his hands stained red from his bleeding face, began to lie again. "There is no such thing. The Imperial Court ceased funding your estate a long time ago."

Aric sighed. "Wrong again."

Zahai smashed Devan’s head into the desk with even greater force, shattering whatever remained of his nose bone. The man screamed in agony, but Aric remained unimpressed.

"Maybe third time’s the charm. Where are my funds?"

Devan, cradling his bloodied nose, hesitated, stuttering as though he wanted to speak but was afraid to. But when Zahai raised his hand again, Devan’s mind was made up.

"The third prince, Your Highness!" Devan exclaimed. "He ordered that all your funds be moved to his fiscal court."

Aric smiled. "So you’ve been stealing from a royal house and giving it to the third prince," he recapped. "But I doubt the court would need to hear that last part before sending you to the dungeons."

"The Imperial Court is aware," Devan muttered through clenched teeth, slight mockery in his tone. "They know it would be a waste with your house."

’Sigh. Those bastards.’

Even though it was unlikely the court would have allowed this, Aric understood it was a possibility. So, he had made sure to have another plan.

Aric sat up in his chair. "And you’re willing to stand before the tribunal with that defense?"

Devan shook his head. "I simply acted on the third prince’s orders."

"Do you think Darius would back that story? You know how well he keeps his facade as the innocent, honest prince. When it comes down to it, whose word do you think they’ll take—Darius, the sinless third prince, or a thieving treasurer?"

Aric played his first card, and from the frown on Devan’s bloodied face, it was clear it had landed.

"What do you want from me?" Devan asked, his voice trembling.

"I know you’re now the main treasurer for the third prince," Aric stated.

"How do you know that?" Devan questioned in shock.

"Don’t ask stupid questions. I want everything he’s ever stolen from me returned—down to the last coin."

"That’s impossible. If I do that, I’ll definitely stand before the tribunal for theft aswell. Darius also wouldn’t take it lightly. I’d rather take my chances with the tribunal for stealing from one prince than from two."

Aric laughed. He wanted to kill the slimy bastard right then, but that wouldn’t get him his money back.

Aric then seemed to materialize paper from thin air, pulling out a letter from his inventory. He threw it onto the desk, and as Devan read through it, his face dissolved into terror.

"Right there is the love letters you had written to the wife of the Grand Duke of Harzaine. You describe in great detail how you planned to touch and worship her body in frankly disgusting ways, while also speaking of how you had done so previously."

"How did you get this..." Devan’s voice trembled.

"Does that matter? What does is that if I hand this over to him, not just you, but your entire family will face a fate worse than death."

As Aric spoke, Devan immediately crumpled up the letter and shoved it into his mouth, swallowing it whole.

Aric, grinning at Devan’s panicked reaction, pulled out another letter. "I have more. Do you want to eat another, or are you full?" Aric’s eyes narrowed as he looked directly at Devan. "Now, are you going to return my funds, or am I meeting with the Duke?"

Devan remained silent for a moment, torn between his options. Then, with trembling hands, he reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a stamped sheet of paper. He drafted a signed order from the third prince’s fiscal court to release twenty million gold coins to the fourth prince’s holding vault.

With a shaky hand, he handed the signed decree to Aric, who took it with a smile.

"Good. That wasn’t so hard, was it?" Aric stood from his chair and turned to the two guards who had accompanied him. "Both of you, please have a conversation with Devan about why theft is a terrible habit."

Both men nodded in understanding as Aric turned and exited the office.

Reentering the hall of his fiscal court, Aric noticed that the courtesans had been sent away, and all the accountants, though still drunk, stood in a late attempt at welcoming him.

However, before they could speak, Devan’s agony-induced screams pierced through the door behind Aric.

"Please, don’t be alarmed," Aric said to them. "They are only having a light discussion."