Marcus woke up with the sun. He felt dangerous.
He had a plan. He had a schedule. He had a list of talking points that would make a used car salesman blush.
"Today is the day," Marcus told his mirror reflection.
The man in the mirror looked tired but determined.
"Today, we sell the product. The product known Theodore, the densest motherfu— cough hero. And the business... is about to boom."
He adjusted his cravat. He grabbed his notebook.
If Operation: Redirect was going to work, he needed to be aggressive. Subtlety had failed. Hints had been ignored.
It was time for the hard sell.
He checked his schedule. First stop: The Royal Academy.
Target: Seraphina Ashwood.
Objective: Highlight Theodore’s discipline and potential as a provider.
"Let’s go save the world," Marcus whispered.
He ignored the sinking feeling in his gut. That was just indigestion. Probably.
✧✧✧
The Academy corridors bustled with morning activity. Students rushed to class with stacks of books.
Marcus stood near the faculty lounge like a sentinel. He checked his pocket watch.
Seraphina usually grabbed tea at 8:15 AM.
At 8:14 AM, the door opened.
Seraphina stepped out. She looked impeccable as always. Her robes were crisp. Her platinum hair was restrained in a severe bun.
But her eyes softened when she saw him.
"Marcus," she said. Her voice was warm. "You are here early."
"Professor Ashwood," Marcus said, bowing slightly. "I had to share something with you. It concerns Theodore."
Seraphina’s smile dimmed by a fraction of a millimeter. Marcus didn’t notice.
"Is he in trouble?" she asked.
"On the contrary," Marcus launched into his prepared speech. "I watched his morning training today. It was inspirational."
He gestured enthusiastically.
"Most students sleep in. Not Theodore. He was up before dawn. He ran ten miles with a weighted vest."
Seraphina leaned against the wall. She watched Marcus, not the empty air where he was picturing Theodore running.
"His discipline is absolute," Marcus continued. "He cleans his own sword. He organizes his own armor. He never complains."
"He sounds... efficient," Seraphina said.
"He is!" Marcus nodded vigorously. "Ideally suited for a partnership. He is low maintenance. Reliable. Solid."
He paused for effect.
"He will make a partner who never falters. A rock in the storm."
Marcus beamed. He had nailed the delivery.
Seraphina took a step closer. The scent of lavender and old paper drifted toward him.
"You speak of him with such passion," she said softly.
"He deserves it," Marcus said. "He is going to save us all."
"Your dedication to Theodore is admirable, Marcus."
She reached out. Her hand brushed his arm. It was a light touch, barely there, but it sent a jolt of electricity through him.
"Not many brothers would work so hard for a sibling’s happiness," she said. "Most noble families are full of rivalry. Jealousy."
Her fingers lingered on his sleeve.
"But you," she whispered. "You put him before yourself. Every single time."
Marcus froze.
Success, his brain shouted. She acknowledges the family bond. She sees the value of the Aldridge bloodline.
"It is my duty," Marcus stammered. "And my pleasure."
"It shows great character," Seraphina said. Her eyes searched his face. "A woman would be lucky to find such devotion."
"Exactly!" Marcus agreed. "Theo is very devoted."
Seraphina smiled. It was a private, knowing smile.
"I must get to class," she said. She squeezed his arm once, then let go. "Thank you for brightening my morning, Marcus."
She walked away. Her step seemed lighter than usual.
Marcus leaned against the wall. He let out a breath he had been holding.
"Phase One complete," he muttered. "She is definitely thinking about devotion."
He checked his list.
Next stop: The Diplomatic Dinner.
Target: Duchess Catarina Roselle.
Objective: Market Theodore’s strategic value.
✧✧✧
The estate of Count Varley was neutral ground. It was Switzerland with better wine and more chandeliers.
The dining hall was a masterpiece of gold leaf and crystal.
Marcus sat across from Duchess Catarina Roselle.
She looked tired. Her makeup was perfect, but he could see the tension in her jaw.
She needed a win. She needed an alliance. She needed Theodore.
"The roast duck is excellent," Count Varley commented from the head of the table.
"It is," Marcus agreed. "It reminds me of Theodore."
The table went silent. Several nobles paused with forks halfway to their mouths.
Catarina raised an elegant eyebrow. "Your brother reminds you of... roast duck?"
"In his consistency," Marcus recovered quickly. "Reliable. Hearty. Essential for sustenance."
He took a sip of wine.
"Theodore has been studying military logistics," Marcus pivoted. "He understands that an army marches on its stomach. Just as a kingdom stands on unity."
Catarina swirled her wine. She watched him over the rim of her glass.
"Unity is a rare commodity these days," she said.
"Theodore could bring that," Marcus insisted. "He has a way of drawing people together. His sword arm protects, but his presence unites."
He spent the next three courses acting as a one-man marketing department.
He praised Theodore’s grasp of border politics. (Theodore thought borders were lines on a map).
He extolled Theodore’s fiscal responsibility. (Theodore owned three shirts and forty whetstones).
He highlighted Theodore’s potential as a father figure. (Theodore once held a baby like it was a bomb).
By the time dessert arrived, the other guests looked exhausted.
Catarina looked fascinated.
As the dinner broke up, she cornered him near the balcony doors.
"Lord Marcus," she said.
"Duchess." Marcus bowed. "I hope my insights were helpful."
"They were illuminating."
She stepped into his personal space. The power she usually projected was dialed down. She felt softer. More approachable.
"You spent two hours selling a product," she said quietly.
"Theodore is not a product," Marcus protested weakly. "He is the future."
"A man who supports his family with such passion demonstrates excellent character," Catarina said.
She looked at his hands. Then up to his eyes.
"In my world, everyone wants something from me. Money. Troops. Influence."
She took a breath.
"You only want something for your brother. You ask nothing for yourself."
"I want the world to be safe," Marcus said. "Theodore is the key."
"I find myself... intrigued by such dedication," Catarina murmured. "It makes me wonder what else you would fight for."
Marcus blinked. "I would fight for the alliance. For the Roselle Duchy."
"For me?" she asked.
"Ideally, yes. Through the alliance."
Catarina laughed. It was a low, smoky sound.
"You are relentless, Marcus. I like that."
She adjusted his collar. It was an intimate gesture. Too intimate for a diplomatic dinner.
"We should discuss this ’alliance’ further," she said. "Privately."
"Anytime," Marcus said, sweating slightly. "Theodore’s schedule is open."
"I wasn’t asking about Theodore’s schedule."
She winked. Actually winked.
Then she swept out of the room, leaving a trail of stunned nobles in her wake.
Marcus tugged at his collar. It felt tight.
She’s intrigued, he thought frantically. She respects the hustle. Good. This is good.
He checked his pocket watch. He was running late.
Target: Vivienne Blackthorn.
Location: The Rusty Tankard Tea House.
Objective: Appeal to the Adventurer spirit.