Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 232: Fall of Valtair [28]

A week had passed.

Each day brought new disasters.

New failures. New impossible obstacles that materialized out of nowhere.

Valtair’s trade had been unusable before. Bandits appearing. Officials demanding new Warehouses mysteriously catching fire. Shipments delayed, diverted, lost entirely.

Then the market flooded.

Products identical to his own appeared everywhere all priced at a loss. So cheap that no one would buy from him when they could get the same quality for half the cost elsewhere.

He recognized some of the goods. His own lost shipments. Somehow recovered. Somehow being sold by competitors who smiled pleasantly and offered no explanation.

And his workers?

The backbone of his operations... They began disappearing. Leaving, better offers elsewhere.

His manpower shrinked. His efficiency collapsed.

And through it all, the mines still sat there. His salvation. His investment.

He’d sent teams immediately. Extraction crews, surveyors, alchemists to harvest the ores and the Lunthera flowers. They’d worked around the clock for seven days straight.

And they’d found... nothing.

Well. Not nothing.

The surface deposits were already gone. The easily accessible Vernacite was extracted. The Lunthera flower clusters were also harvested down to bare roots.

What remained was in deeper parts, which required extensive mining operations.

All of which took time.

The time he didn’t have.

And the worst part? The payment was due today.

Yes, the amount he had taken as loan had weekly payment clause.

But he didn’t have any money because the mines hadn’t produced a single copper’s worth of profit yet. Nor got anything from market, and the taxes.

----

Valtair’s study felt like a cage.

He paced back and forth, hands twisted together, knuckles white, face flushed with anxiety and rage and desperation.

"There has to be something," His voice was ragged, hoarse from hours of this. "The warehouses. We still have the grain shipment from—"

"Already seized by creditors." Vivienne’s voice came quiet, strained. She stood near the window, her posture rigid, hands folded at her waist. "Lord Marwen claimed it yesterday. Payment for the personal loan."

"Fuck!" Valtair slammed his fist against the desk. Papers scattered. "The textile contracts then. We can liquidate—"

"Buyers pulled out." Her tone never changed. Steady. Mechanical. Like she was reading a death sentence. "Market prices dropped too low. No one’s interested."

Valtair made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

His younger son, Renard, stood near the door.

Black hair falling across grey eyes that tracked his father’s pacing with increasing alarm. His jaw was tight, shoulders tense, hands clenched at his sides.

"Father, there has to be, we can sell the eastern estates. The hunting lodge, the—"

"Already mortgaged!" Valtair’s voice cracked. "Everything’s mortgaged! Everything’s gone!"

Silence crashed down.

Vivienne turned from the window, her face was carefully composed but her eyes betraying something deeper. Fear, or maybe determination.

"Then..." She swallowed hard. "Then I’ll buy us time."

Valtair stopped pacing and blinked. "What?"

"I’ll go to Dorian. To Harlen." Her voice steadied, taking on resolve. "I’ll use my own body. Offer... services. In exchange for payment extensions. Just a few weeks. Just long enough for the mines to—"

"What?" The words came out of Count’s mouth, flat.

Renard went rigid, his face draining of color. "Mother, you can’t—"

"I can and I will." Vivienne’s chin lifted. "If it saves this family, if it buys us time—"

"No." Valtair crossed the distance between them in three strides, his hands finding her shoulders. "Absolutely not. I won’t... I will never allow—"

"Then what else is there?" Her voice rose, cracking at the edges. "What other options do we have? They’re going to seize everything! The mines, the estates, our name—"

"Not like this!" His grip tightened. "I’d rather lose everything than—"

"Father’s right." Renard’s voice cut through, sharp and desperate. "Mother, you can’t... there has to be another way. We can approach the Duke, ask for—"

"The Duke won’t help us." Vivienne pulled away from her husband’s grip. "No one will help us. We’re poison right now. Everyone knows we’re drowning and they’re just waiting to pick over the corpse!"

"Then we fight!" Valtair’s voice broke completely. "We sell everything. Borrow. But we do NOT—"

Knock! Knock!

The sound cut through their argument like a blade.

All three of them froze.

The door opened slightly, and a maid appeared, her face was pale.

"My lord..." Her voice trembled. "There’s... someone here to see you."

Valtair’s face went ashen. "Who?"

"Master Dorian Margrave, my lord. He says it’s urgent." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

Vivienne’s hand came up to her mouth. Renard moved closer to his father instinctively.

Valtair stood there for a long moment, his chest heaving, his mind clearly racing through options that didn’t exist.

Finally, he nodded. "Show him to the guest room."

"Yes, my lord."

The maid retreated, closing the door softly.

Valtair turned to his family and something in his expression crumbled.

"Stay here." His voice came hollow. "Both of you. I’ll... I’ll handle this."

"Father—" Renard started.

"Stay here."

He turned and walked toward the door, his steps heavy, shoulders bowed under invisible weight.

The door closed behind him.

The guest room felt different today.

Colder.

The afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows seemed harsh rather than warm.

Dorian Margrave stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back, watching the estate grounds with the patient stillness of a predator.

When Valtair entered, he turned.

"Count Valtair." His voice was polite. Professional. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Dorian." Valtair’s throat was dry. "I... I need to discuss the payment schedule. Just a few more days, a week at most, and I can—"

"I’m afraid that won’t be possible, my lord."

The words were gentle, but absolute.

Valtair felt his stomach drop.

"Please. The mines are just beginning production. Once the deeper veins are accessed—"

"I’m sure they’ll be very profitable." Dorian’s expression never changed. "But today’s payment is due. As stipulated in our contract."

"I don’t have..." The admission came out strangled. "Everything’s tied up in—"

"Then I’m afraid I must mark this loan as defaulted."

The word hung in the air like a blade.

Valtair stared at him, his mouth opening and closing silently.

Dorian pulled a document from his coat. He set it on the nearby table and withdrew a quill.

"Per the terms of our agreement, failure to meet scheduled payments results in immediate seizure of collateral." His quill moved across the paper, marking, signing, finalizing.

"The Vernacite mine contract, along with the deed to your eastern hunting lodge and the warehouse holdings in the merchant district."

"No." Valtair’s voice cracked. "No, you can’t, those are worth more what I borrowed! This is—"

"This is the contract you signed, my lord." Dorian’s tone remained pleasant.

"You can redeem the collateral by paying the full outstanding amount, including penalties and interest. Until such time, these assets are forfeit."

He rolled up the document and tucked it back into his coat.

"You have thirty days to settle the debt and reclaim your property. After that..." He shrugged delicately. "The collateral becomes mine to liquidate as I see fit."

Valtair stood there, frozen, his mind struggling to process what was happening.

The mines. His salvation. His future.

Gone.

Seized.

Lost.

Dorian moved toward the door, his steps measured and calm.

"I’m sorry it came to this, Count. Truly." He paused at the threshold, glancing back. "But business is business."

Then he was gone.

The door closed with a soft click.

Valtair stood alone in the guest room, staring at nothing, his breathing shallow and rapid.

Behind him, the sound of hurried footsteps. Vivienne and Renard appeared in the doorway, their faces pale, already knowing from his expression what had happened.

"Father?" Renard’s voice was small.

Valtair turned slowly, and they saw it, the complete, utter devastation written across his features.

"It’s gone."