Aurelian Federation: Neo-Luminara

———

Arthur’s Study Room

———-

Arthur Osborn lounged in his private study, swirling a glass of red wine while flipping through Edward’s contract summaries under flickering firelight that danced across the room.

On the giant screen opposite him lit up Evolon,a massive blue face composed of countless data streams appeared.

“Well?” Arthur asked without looking up from his papers. “What’s the damage?”

Evolon replied, “Initial estimates put the total deal value at 684 billion Unicreds. The rail rights alone are unprecedented.”

Arthur chuckled softly. “Of course they are! Edward really outdid himself this time.” His mind raced with possibilities.

“I didn’t expect those system reward halos to be so badass,” he muttered under his breath.

He tossed aside the papers and leaned back thoughtfully. “But he seems to have forgotten one crucial detail.”

“What is it, Sir?” came Evolon’s voice.

“You don’t take a kingdom without making enemies.”

As he swiveled his chair toward the window, the city lights sparkled below like a field of diamonds, each flicker whispering promises of power and peril.

——-

Edward Osborn’s Office – Osborn Mining & Resources Headquarters

——–

The office mirrored its occupant: sparse, efficient, and razor-sharp. No family portraits or ostentatious displays of wealth adorned the walls, just a sleek steel desk, a wall teeming with live commodity feeds, and one solitary framed document: Edward’s first mining patent from when he arrived in the Eastern Dominion.

Leaning back in his chair, Edward spun a tungsten drill bit between his fingers as if it were a lucky coin.

Across from him, his assistant Darius scrolled through a security report, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“They took the bait,” Darius said, disbelief etched on his face. “All of it, copper, aluminum, oil-for-rail. No counteroffers. Just signatures.”

A smirk crept across Edward’s lips. “Of course they did. Volkov is desperate; his Miberian mines are flooding! Lina’s military backers will execute her if she misses production quotas. And Donald?”

He flicked the drill bit into the air and caught it effortlessly. “He’s been itching to get his hands on Blackridge for months now.”

Darius exhaled sharply and looked up at Edward. “So what’s their play now?”

With an elegant tap on his desk, Edward summoned a holographic feed that illuminated the room, a grainy security clip from the Diamond Conference Room elevator showed Mikhail punching the wall in frustration while snarling into his phone.

“He’ll go after the plasma refinement patent,” Edward predicted coolly. “Calling in every favor with the Minerals Commission to bury it under red tape.”

Darius frowned skeptically. “But we have the Commission Chair in our pocket.”

“True,” Edward replied with an edge of amusement in his voice, “but Mikhail has got the Vice-Chair.”

He pulled up Dmitri Sokolov’s dossier from the Eastern Dominion Mining Bureau on-screen. “He’ll stall us just long enough for Vostok to develop their own process, or at least try to.”

Opening a secured file revealing compromising information about Sokolov, he added casually, “Here, leak this to the press if our patent gets ‘delayed.'”

“What about Lina Khalifa?” Darius asked quickly.

“She’s already sending scouts into Solarian Basin,” Edward replied matter-of-factly. “Azure Peak’s military contracts hinge on that aluminum; if they can’t buy it… they’ll steal it.”

Darius stiffened at this revelation and suggested urgently, “Then we should lock down our sites!”

“Absolutely not,” Edward grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Let them chase after those ‘new deposits.'”

He gestured toward a geological map, pinpointing a barren area. “We’ll seed them with false data,make it look like we overlooked a motherlode. When they pour billions into digging? They’ll just hit granite.”

Meanwhile, a tapped phone call recorded Lina’s orders to her scouts. “If she tries to explain the failure to General Wei, he’ll think she’s incompetent, or worse, a traitor.”

“And then Donald…” Darius began.

“He’s handing Vanguard Freight our facility blueprints,” Edward interjected smoothly. “They’ll strike Port Cyanide within the week.”

Darius clenched his jaw. “We need to evacuate and tighten security…”

Edward shook his head, an enigmatic smile creeping across his face. “Let them burn it down.”

He stood and walked over to the window, gazing out thoughtfully. “That facility is outdated and cramped; we’ve already constructed a new one at Port Obsidian, twice the capacity but half the footprint.”

Turning back to Darius, his eyes sparkled with ambition. “Let Vanguard destroy the old plant. Then we can sue them for industrial espionage! We’ll seize their remaining rail shares as part of the settlement, a fake security flaw in Port Cyanide’s systems will be deliberately leaked to make it easy for them.”

Darius looked at Edward with newfound admiration. “You knew all this would happen before they even left the building?”

Edward shrugged nonchalantly. “People are predictable. Volkov? A thug who wields rules like weapons. Lina? A knife lurking in the shadows. But Donald?”

He smirked knowingly, “He’s the most dangerous, because he’s patient… but patience can make you slow.”

What Edward didn’t reveal to Darius was that he had this information because Arthur had shared it with him.

————

Flashback – Three Months Ago

———-

The Silver Sands Resort, Eastern Dominion

———

The resort is like a paradise that feels more like a gilded cage, palm trees gently swaying in an artificial breeze, the mingling scents of saltwater and cigars hanging thick in the air.

Arthur lounged at a private cabana, swirling his glass of bourbon as he gazed out at the rhythmic dance of the waves.

Opposite him sat Gregor Halden, Chairman of the Eastern Dominion Minerals Commission, visibly sweating through his crisp linen suit.

“You’re asking me to betray my own regulations,” Gregor muttered, his fingers tapping nervously against his knee, betraying his unease.

Arthur leaned forward with a knowing smile. “I’m simply asking you to see reason. Your son’s medical bills are piling up, Gregor. That experimental gene therapy doesn’t come cheap.”

Gregor’s complexion drained of color. “How did you…?”

“I make it my business to know.” With a smooth motion, Arthur slid a folder across the table.

Inside lay bank statements, offshore accounts, and heart-wrenching photos of Gregor’s son in a hospital bed. “The treatment costs 20 million Unicreds each year. And your salary? A mere 450,000 Unicreds.”

A seagull cried overhead as if echoing the tension in the air; the ice in Arthur’s glass clinked softly, a reminder of their precarious situation.

“Sign the waivers for the Blackridge oil expansion,” Arthur urged gently but firmly. “And just like that, the Halden family will never have to worry about money again.”

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