Izark eyed his young son with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. "You are a twelve-year-old child. What can you even do?" Izark's tone dripped with disbelief, his furrowed brow underscoring his doubt.

  Zain, his eyes gleaming with a mix of determination and pride, met his father's gaze unwaveringly. "You are really underestimating me, Father. Here, let me show you."

  With a fluid motion, Zain produced a bottle of wine, its dark, elegant glass glinting under the room's flickering candlelight. He tossed it gently toward Izark, who caught it with practiced ease. As the bottle sailed through the air, it released an alluring fragrance, rich and inviting, which filled the room.

  Izark raised an eyebrow, his suspicion evident as he turned the bottle in his hands. The exquisite aroma piqued his interest. "What is this?" he asked, his voice tinged with cautious curiosity.

  "Just drink it." Zain encouraged, his tone confident and persuasive.

  Izark hesitated for a moment, eyeing the bottle suspiciously. "It better not be poisonous." he muttered before taking a tentative sip. Almost immediately, his eyes widened in surprise, and his suspicious look transformed into one of delight. He took another gulp, a big one this time, nearly draining half the bottle in one go.

  "Hey! Easy, easy, don't drain all of it." Zain protested, watching with a mix of amusement and concern.

  Izark reluctantly stopped, lowering the bottle. "This is the best wine I have drunk in such a long time. Even Dwarven alcohol couldn't match this. No... they can, but this could compete with the most expensive alcohols and wines I've ever tasted. Where did you get it?"

  A proud smile played on Zain's lips. "I made it."

  Izark laughed, a hearty, disbelieving laugh. "You... hahaha... don't joke. Tell me, where did you get it?"

  "Believe it or not, I made it." Zain insisted, his expression unwavering.

  Izark turned to Morris, his trusted advisor, who stood nearby with a bemused look on his face. "My lord, I think the young master is stating the truth. I have experienced a similar fragrance emanating from his 'lab' on several occasions." Morris said, his tone serious.

  Izark's eyes widened in realization. "So, you really... but how?"

  "You really ask many questions." Zain teased. "It's like this..."

  Zain began to explain his intricate process. People with high power Realms never got drunk easily, as they had to drink an immense amount. Whenever toxic alcohol entered their bodies, it would get eliminated, nullifying the effect and disrupting their pleasure as it was deemed harmful by their highly developed systems.

  "But I found a way to bypass this natural defense mechanism." Zain continued, his voice growing more animated. "After conducting numerous experiments over the last few years, and using my monstrous analytical skills and calculations, I was able to create a formula that prevents this process. It took a couple of years, but I managed to achieve what would take a lifetime even for an expert—a perfected, high-quality wine."

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  Izark stared at his son in amazement. "What kind of monster are you? How many experiments did you perform to achieve this? Weren't you trying to brew that fairytale immortal potion?"

  The last line stung Zain's pride. "Do you think that I am that dumb? I knew from the beginning that the story was a myth. But there was something in it that caught my eye. The values, like the quantity and volume of the materials, were oddly specific. It's also one of the oldest books in the library. And it was not even a complete book but a draft, with some text rubbed out and rewritten, some parts having slight spelling mistakes."

  Izark couldn't understand why Zain was telling him all this, but he continued to listen, intrigued.

  "Its author's name was Goya Stonehill. I looked for clues about him. Apparently, he was a well-known wine brewer in the Holy-Moon Alliance a long time ago. He died of old age without a successor and never managed to pass on his teachings and wine-brewing methods. Luckily, I discovered the secret of this book."

  Zain's eyes sparkled with excitement as he recounted his discovery. "It contains the recipe for one of his special wines. But I needed to find real-life ingredients that matched the characteristics of the materials described in the book. Over four years, I found the matching ingredients."

  "So, how did you make it?" Izark asked, genuinely curious.

  Zain took a deep breath, savoring the moment. "In the first three years, I performed nearly a thousand experiments to figure out the nature of available resources. In the fourth year, I tried different combinations in my mind to narrow down possible solutions. This last year, I worked on those solutions to make a cost-effective and luscious wine. It can still be improved, though."

  Izark's eyes were wide with disbelief. "Are you saying that you did all that in just five years?"

  "Too much time, yes I know." Zain said with a self-deprecating smile, "but I am still a novice. This is the best I could do right now. The recipe in the book is very complex. And you should be praising me, not whining about the time."

  Morris, who had been listening intently, was in disbelief. He had always known that Zain was talented, but he had never imagined the extent of his genius. On the other hand, Izark was more angry than shocked at Zain calling himself a novice. It was either that he was acting dumb or he had no idea what he had accomplished, maybe even both.

  Of course, it was the latter. Zain had read research work on wine but didn't know how much time it took to gather all of that data. Then, with a swift motion, Izark pulled Zain's ear, not with full strength, just enough to leave him with some pain.

  "What's that for?" Zain asked, rubbing his ear in mild annoyance.

  "Nothing, I just felt like it. Now, tell me what's going on in that little brain of yours?"

  Zain straightened, his expression serious. "Morris, I want some resources for it."

  Morris, always the diplomat, replied, "No problem, young master, but that's only if the lord approves of it."

  Zain's gaze sharpened. "So, listen carefully. If everything goes according to my plan, we will control 90% of the monopoly in our Dukedom and 10% of the monopoly in the Empire in the coming two years."

  If anyone other than Zain had been making these declarations, Izark would have personally thrown him out of the palace. But coming from Zain, it looked as if these words carried some weight. It was a dream that was near impossible, to complete such a task in such a short time. No one would ever think about it. Five percent of the monopoly of the Zinovia empire was controlled by outer forces. Twenty-five percent was controlled by the royal family. The rest was under nine dukes and nearly two hundred other nobles.

  It would make them the second strongest power in the empire in terms of wealth. But would this dream ever become a reality? This was the question in Izark's mind.

  "Zain, you know right that our Dukedom is way down when it comes to... wealth."

  "I know that, and what is the reason for it? You all are. Tell me, Morris, what would happen if traders were to increase the price of weapons?"

  "Hmm... we will increase their taxes."

  "And what if they retaliate and refuse to sell?"

  "They wouldn't want to mess with us."

  "Well, that would end in a bad way. Because we still have to oblige to some of their demands."

  "Yes, you are right, young master. We will be in a bad place. If there was a shortage of supply or a fall in quality, it would cost many lives. But why are you thinking about it? It's not like it would happen."

  "Oh... really, why are you so sure? Haven't we experienced a rise in the price of grains?"

  "Yes, we have. And it can happen. But we don't have a choice."

  "Oh yes... Morris, I get it now. Zain, we have other ways though. Assassinating some of them, framing them as criminals, there's a lot we can do about it. You are helping us to figure out new ways."

  Izark got excited over the killing and stuff. It was precisely not what Zain wanted. He could only rub his temple in frustration at his father brimming with excitement.

  "Stop, that's not what I meant."

  "Yes, my lord. There sure must be something else the young master would want to explain. You should let him finish himself."

  "Thanks, Morris."

  Zain didn't know how Morris kept up with his father on a daily basis. This man had only one solution to problems—getting rid of the person causing the problem. But because of this attitude, there were very few people in the Zenovia empire who would ever mess with him.

  "I will go straight to the plan. Stage one is making our Dukedom self-sufficient. We need to invest in agriculture and local production. This will reduce our dependency on external traders and stabilize our economy. We need to develop our own resources to ensure that we have a steady supply of essential goods."

  Izark nodded, finally seeing the sense in Zain's words. "Go on."