"How much money we got?"
Kairon stared at Varn, eyes wide, forehead sweating like a man already halfway into a mental breakdown.
They were seated across from each other in the Chancellor's dusty office, legs stretched, backs hunched, and the air between them thick with broke energy.
Varn started counting with his fingers like a medieval accountant. "Well, considering we sold it for ten instead of six silver…" He mumbled, eyes narrowing. "We have about seventeen gold, fifty-seven silver, and twenty copper coins right now."
Kairon let out a groan, leaned back, and stared up at the cracked ceiling like it held answers. Then the floor. Then at Varn. "That much, huh?"
"Not bad, honestly," Varn added, shrugging.
"How much would it cost to buy seeds and a horse?" Kairon asked, voice filled with just enough fake confidence to sound deeply suspicious.
Varn narrowed his eyes. "Why a horse?"
Kairon squinted. "Why not?"
"Why, why not?"
"Why, why, why not?"
"Why, why, why, why not?"
"Wh—"
[Seriously, cut it out.]
"Whatever." Kairon slammed his hands down on the table—not hard enough to break it, but just loud enough to feel cool about it. "Stop questioning me."
"I'll stop questioning you," Varn said flatly, "when your plans stop sounding like they came from a fever dream written at 3 AM."
Kairon leaned back, arms crossed like some broke-down warlord. "You're just jealous of my visionary thinking."
"Visionary?" Varn raised a brow. "You wanted to spend half our money… on a horse."
"When you hear the word 'horse', what comes to your mind?" Kairon leaned forward dramatically. "Easy work, fast travel, majestic creature, status—"
"You," Varn interrupted.
Kairon froze. His expression collapsed like the economy during a civil war. He looked like someone who just found out his imaginary girlfriend broke up with him over text.
"…You didn't have to say it that fast," he mumbled, pressing a hand to his chest like he'd been shot.
Varn smirked. "You didn't have to ask that slow either."
Kairon slumped in his chair. "This kingdom once feared the name 'House Elmade.' Now look at us—broke, bickering over horses."
"It's Elshade," Varn corrected.
"Whatever," Kairon groaned. "We start with seeds. Then land. Then labor. Then maybe… maybe transport."
"Transport. Right." Kairon nodded blankly. "Like a… wheelbarrow."
"Exactly."
He sighed. "I shouldn't have come into this novel world."
Varn blinked. "What?"
"Huh?"
"What did you say?"
"I said noble world," Kairon coughed, sitting up straighter. "As in noble society. You need to get your ears checked."
Varn stared at him like he wanted to believe that… but didn't. He eventually stood up and stretched. "We'll go tomorrow. I'll handle the seeds. You handle the horse."
---
Later, at the Kiluya Market.
"Kiluya," Kairon muttered under his breath. "That's such a goofy name."
The universe answered him immediately.
A bulky man stepped into his path, face scrunched like he'd been personally insulted. "What did you say, little guy?"
"…I said it's such a gracious name. Truly fitting for a city so—" He smirked. "—graced with your stupid face."
"Huh?! You—!"
The man pulled his fist back, veins bulging.
"Elira," Kairon said calmly. "Beat this moron."
Elira looked at him. Then at the man. Then at the sky.
"…So beautiful," she said. "But why the heck do I have to do this?" She cracked her knuckles. "Ugh. Whatever."
Mana sparked around her fist. A second later, the man was on the ground, wheezing, hugging his stomach like it held the meaning of life.
The crowd watched silently. Not shocked. Just… respectful.
Kairon had planned this. The novel he'd read might not have covered this place, but people were still people. Fear was universal.
No one messed with the strong. It was instinct. But here, there was something more—these people loved watching fights.
The author of this world was probably a lunatic. One moment, slapstick comedy. The next, deep philosophy. But the real reason the novel blew up?
The fights.
The author had made it easy. Cities didn't care about destruction. People forgot damage. Everything reset.
No consequences. Just cool moments.
And Kairon knew how to make use of that.
"HOW DARE YOU ATTACK ME!?" he shouted, eyes gleaming. "I AM THE MASTER OF HOUSE ELSHADE!"
Elira facepalmed. Varn looked ready to walk away.
---
Stable Time.
The stable was massive. The horses were bigger. Some looked like they bench-pressed dragons for fun.
Kairon whistled. "Dang. These horses look like they've won wars."
"And their prices look like they charge rent," Varn said, pointing at one labeled 80 gold. "That's more than all we got."
A stablehand walked up. Dude looked like a gym rat cursed into working with hay. "You boys looking for speed, power, or intimidation?"
Kairon smiled. "We're looking for something that doesn't make our wallets cry."
The man nodded. "You want the Value Rack. Follow me."
They passed the beautiful beasts. And then… entered the corner of sadness.
The Value Rack looked cursed. These horses had seen stuff. Some were old. Some were small. Some just looked like failed science experiments.
"This here's Old Tuna," the man said, patting a gray horse with tired eyes and a scar like it owed taxes. "Ten silver. Eats slow. Runs slower. Hates everyone."
"She's perfect," Kairon said.
Varn looked like he just got slapped. "She's… what?! She looks like death's personal ride!"
"That's character," Kairon whispered.
"She's decomposing," Varn snapped.
Elira leaned in. "I dunno. I like her. She's got that 'I've played these games before' energy."
Kairon grinned. "Exactly. She's gonna carry our legacy."
Tuna sneezed violently.
"…Or our corpses," Varn muttered.
They paid ten silver. The man handed them a receipt scribbled with charcoal. Tuna walked out like the ground owed her something.
Kairon placed a dramatic hand on her neck. "You're not just a horse. You're a symbol."
"Of failure?" Varn said.
"Of resilience," Kairon declared, pointing at the horizon. "To glory! To greatness! To—"
Tuna farted. Loudly.
"…To shame," Elira mumbled.
---
That Night – Camp Outside Kiluya
Stars shimmered above. The campfire crackled softly. Tuna made noises like she was halfway between a nap and death.
Varn laid on the grass. "Do you actually know how to farm?"
Kairon blinked at the sky. "No."
"Do you know how to run a territory?"
"Nope."
"…Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
Kairon turned his head slowly, a proud smile creeping across his face. "Not even a little bit."
Varn sighed. "We're doomed."
Elira tossed a stick into the fire. "I think it'll be fun."
"You think everything's fun," Varn muttered.
"I do."
Kairon sat up and stared into the flames. "We're gonna mess up. A lot. But if I fail, I'm failing spectacularly. With fireworks. Maybe even a musical number."
"Please don't," Varn said.
"Tomorrow, we buy the seeds. Then we start building our empire."
Varn blinked. "Where are we even buying them?"
Kairon blinked back. "We?"
"You'll go buy them secretly. Somewhere no one will notice. Look for a broken-down shop with a bunny symbol on the door."
"…Why a bunny?" Elira asked, blinking.
"The author liked bunny girls."
"That doesn't answer my—"
"Good night!" Kairon shouted, diving into the tent and yanking the blanket over himself like a child.