Chapter 1

Donald sighed and lowered his head. "Is any of this real? Or did I pass out under that cart?"

Elizabeth

The hat had continued to float in the room as Elizabeth was left with a strange mixture of bewilderment and unbridled rage. She quickly grabbed the hat and slammed it onto her head. It hummed with a low energy that made Elizabeths skin feel electric. 

"Oh no, no you don't!" Elizabeth threw the hat towards the ground; it caught itself in mid-air and began to float once more. "I'm not about to let you... What were you even doing? It felt strange, like everything was filled with-" She paused. "I'm talking to a hat." 

The hat spun a little slower. 

"You're a hat." Elizabeth said

The hat rose slightly, spinning a bit closer towards its original speed. 

"No, no I'm not dealing with this. You want to float there all day, be my guest. I'm going back to my room." She turned, blinked twice and sighed.  "I'm still talking to a hat." 

Before she could register what the hat was doing next, because she was certain it was having some kind of reaction, she stormed off towards her room, slammed the door behind her, and collapsed against it. She looked up slowly, fearing what she would see. 

The Hat spun forebodingly above her. 

Elizabeth sighed. She slowly rose, drawing in a breath to steady her rising temper, and shot the hat a disapproving look. 

"Fine." She said, reaching out to take it. "I'm still going to talk to you though, and I won't let you think I'm crazy for doing so."

The hat seemed to move in her grip but was marginally more relaxed than before. She slipped it on, giving it a careful tug down to seat itself properly, and looked around the room. The hat hummed a light vibration again, but only for a moment, before silencing and returning to the state of... well, a hat. 

"Better." She said. "None of that vibrating business. It's bad enough you float and can move around." 

The brim drooped slightly, and surprisingly Elizabeth felt a twang of guilt at its response. She pulled at the hem of her dress and did all but kick the floor dispassionately. 

"Oh alright, it isn't that bad. Actually, it's pretty neat. That could come in handy, I suppose. Like if I ever need to hold something up or... well, whatever else floating and moving around is good for. I'm sure we'll think of something."

The brim took back on its original shape, puffed up slightly by what she was assuming was pride. She got the strange sort of sense that there was more to the hat than she was getting currently, and some strange emotions were bleeding into her senses. 

"Is it going to be like this the whole time with you?" 

She felt a twinge of concern and fear flit into her realm of perception. 

"It's not that it's bad, per se... Just new. I can get used to it if I have to."

The feelings shifted to uneasy excitement mixed with trepidation. 

"Yes, alright. I'll get used to it." 

The hat seemed to be pleased with this answer, and it settled comfortably. She could almost feel the sensation of acceptance and curiosity trickling in. She was expecting it to be more a sensation from the hat-being-thing, but it was more her own. Or at least she thought it was. 

She slid comfortably onto the stool she'd been sitting in up to a few minutes ago, but something about it seemed wrong now. Like the seat wasn't hers anymore. Elizabeth pushed past the sensation and picked up the hat and needle she'd been working on. Even if she was supposedly magic, that didn't mean she had to do anything about it. She could just sit and sew hats, right? Thats what she'd always wanted, to sew hats in the shop and lead a quiet, peaceful life. Maybe find a partner, maybe just run the shop. She'd never considered adding anyone else to her life when it was so full already.  

When the feelings she'd had before, the ones that drove her to move the needle and makes the designs, failed to present themselves she instead stood and went to her bed. She fell onto the mattress face first with little more than a grunt, climbed up a bit more to be comfortable, and let the outrides of sleep fill her mind. 

Vern

The cart wheeled across the room with a practiced ease. It was well experienced in being a cart, it had trained for many, many years to be of the upmost quality of cart. The carts parent metals, that is to say the metals and pieces that formed the cart, had been from a respectable family of carts from many years prior that had worked quite hard for quite a while to eventually be recycled into a newer, better cart. None of this concerned Vern, who was absently fiddling with the connectors around one of the lesser "busy" sides of the machine. This was to be expected, to the cart the life it lived was little more than bliss. It was used as a cart in a well maintained and rather clean area. It didn't have to live in the grubby market squares or off-shoot alleys half covered in piss and shit from a nights poor mistakes. 

What sat atop, or rather on, the over proud cart was an "engine" of sorts. Most of Verns designs had a similar connecting thread about them, and that was that they more or else resembled something that should exist in the world. It has pieces and gears, connecting points and outputs for what would presumably come as a result of the machine working. However, it was in that sense of its existence being almost guaranteed by means of the universe that makes each one seem almost impossible to decipher. In short, the "engine" was roughly the size of a torso, with gears and mechanical bits and all the things that something called an "engine" should have. 

The receptacle of energy for the sake of this experiment was another piece of technology that Vern had devised during a heated debate on the existence of fireflies and their sourcing of light. Essentially, he had taken the shape of the bright bulbous bit and enlarged it enough to put a single spun wire inside. The "bulb" and the "engine" sat like final nails in a cosmic railway that were unwittingly connecting the whole of two different universes into one. 

"Good feeling, huh?" Vern grunted with effort as he locked the carts wheels into place. "I don't feel too much about it." 

He moved smoothly over to the far wall where he'd just carted the "engine" over and grabbed a smooth conical device. Then he locked that into place on the workbench using a pair of twist clamps, screwed the "bulb" into place, connected the strange copper wires that he'd had the mind to fashion for the experiment, and stood back to admire his work. 

It looked like... Vern tilted his head slightly and shoved the first thought aside.

It looked like... 

It looked like a mess. It looked like noodles spreading from a strange metallic box that slithered and clung its way onto the table to hold up its most prized possession. 

Vern felt a strange sensation breeze into the room as he walked toward the crank on the side of the engine. He'd debated whether he should use some kind of winding spell, but he didn't really have the money to waste on a goat, and fingers were plain out. That also excluded the fact that he'd have to find a wizard talented enough to do exactly what was being asked anyway. No, for now there needed to be no magic. That was the whole point of this anyway, do it without magic and the rest of the world can follow along. 

His hand slipped over the crank shaft with silence that almost seemed to deafen the world around. So far into the workshops as they were, it was hard to hear anything outside the room aside from the voices of those in the monitoring room. Even then, there still existed some level of underlying sound that permeated the world from being in the city. He didn't notice it at the time, but even the distant sounds of the city lulled into the click-clicking of the crank. 

He spun the crank once, picking up speed as he went. It protested and click-clacked as loud as it could to convince Vern to stop, but it was useless. The noises it made were expected, and the fact it was even moving at all meant that things were going in the right direction. Internal gears and hinges buckled and bent on predetermined paths. Sockets socketed, gears geared, spinners spun. 

He spun the crank again, and again, and again, picking up as much speed as he could each time. His mind became nothing but a thought of spinning the crank, of shifting the weight and increasing the sounds of the gears. Something made a loud pop sound and the "engine" jumped once but kicked into gear. The crank shaft began to spin faster than Vern could keep up with, so he yanked it out and stared, eyes wide at the machinery functioning- truly functioning before him.

Vern spun on his heels and darted to the journal, scrawling notes and writing out calculations as fast as his mind could comprehend them. More than once he found he was tripped up and had to stumble back down a mental path with some effort after jogging through it on the pure instinct that he could record it. It was only when he sought to turn out the candle burning nearby that he realized the second aspect of change in the room. The "bulb" was glowing, glowing brighter than any candle Vern had ever quickly avoided looking at. 

With a hitched breath, Vern leaned back against the table and stared at the "engine" and the "bulb". 

Donald

"Banks" Donald huffed. It was less of a sound of annoyance and more of a simple acknowledgement of the fact that things were the way they were. Simple as that. 

"Too right about that Mister Donald sir, never trusted banks too much myself. Never really got too much into the whole banking thing. That isn't to say that I don't store some money there, they promise to make some money back on what you put in, but never could scrounge up enough to really make a difference in my life. Course, if I had a giant chunk of money I wouldn't even really know what to do with it and I don't really think thats likely to happen to me. Not likely to happen to us, not really, right?"

Donald sat for a moment, working hard to actually comprehend the string of words he'd just been exposed to. His driver, a man named Haviert who had already given most of his lives story, his wives story, his first and second children's stories, and had been about to begin the next generations story when they had pulled up to the Valarian Royal Bank. 

"Er, right. Well, thanks for the ride Haviert... and the stories too. Uh, how much do I owe you?" 

"Ah, it's no trouble Mister Donald, I was headed this way anyway and happened to see you. Most of us know who you are, always good for it, right? Tell you what, you looked like you were down on your luck a bit when I got ya, but iffin you're going into the bank then you must be getting something right?" 

"I... well, maybe?" 

"I'll come back around later tonight and pick you up and you can just pay me some from that. Course iffin you wanna give me some money now then I'd be more than happy to accept, but I can about figure that you lost the last of your funds getting that letter, so it doesn't seem like it'd be much you could pay me." It was impressive the lengths of speech that Haviert could manage on single breaths. 

"Right, well I'll certainly give you something when I get out. Is there any way I should call for you or...?"

"You can just let another cabby know that you're ready for me. We don't have any of those fancy magic stones for summoning, mainly because we can't afford the goats and pigs. Not to mention we wouldn't know what to do with all that meat. Probably give it away or get someone to pay for it, but that just doesn't feel like us." 

"Uhm, sure." Donald said

"Could be why you see all those fresh-meat butcher shops around all the big cabby companies."

"That would certainly make sense." Donald agreed absently. He tried to listen, at least a little longer, but his eyes were fixed on the regal facade of the Royal Valarian Bank. The building was massive, at least five stories tall with ornate windows that almost seemed to scream "we have money, you don't, we should be charging you for the right to even look at us." Of course, in a way they certainly were. The rates that banks took things in varied horribly from the rate they lent things out. Safety in banking, safety with piles of money. 

"Well?" Haviert prodded

"Well, what?" Donald asked, snapping back into the conversation that had drifted from topic to topic with the ease of the shifting winds. 

"Well, are you going in?" Haviert urged him on "I've gotta get going and you've got money to collect I'd wager." 

In the short period of time that they'd known each other, the only thing that Donald had managed to get out was that someone had passed and he now had an inheritance to collect. Neither were particularly sure on the process of receiving money from banks, more often than not it was that they owed money or simply put small sums away in the caves of the fiscal responsibility. 

"Right, well, uhm... Thank you Haviert. I'll be seeing you later today then." 

"That you will, that you will. Good luck Donny!"

Haviert gave one last nod and wave then started off towards the center of the city, leaving Donald on the massive steps of the intimidating construction of wealth in the city. 

"Well, they're expecting me, right? I might as well just walk in, right?" He asked. 

Pressing aside the crushing weight of insecurity and inadequacy, Donald pressed on and up towards the main door. Ushers stood at every entrance, dressed in sharp bright red uniforms with gilded buttons and large topped hats. It looked like three or four of the several present noticed Donald, but none approached him until he was within spitting distance of one of the doors. 

"Mr. Donald D.G.E-" 

"Just call me Donald. Or Donny. Please, this whole D.G.E. business is just getting out of hand. Its just a nickname after all."

"Ah, of course sir. Mr. Alphonse mentioned we were to be expecting you in the next few days, we weren't sure whether that would include today." 

"As it happens I was in the area." Donald lied. 

"Well thats excellent news, I'm certain the General Manager would like to get this handled as soon as possible. Shall I show you inside?" There was a nearly invisible scrunch of the ushers nose as he quickly adjusted and pressed open the door. Donald did his best on most days not to smell himself, it had been easier when he'd had a house and a place to wash up. Now he just used whatever trough he happened upon during the nights. 

They made their way inside, or Donald did, as the door was shut hastily behind him and he was left in the enormous entrance hall with a long line of counters at the far end. Each step, as he made tentative ones in further, echoed through the room with a haunting tint of poverty. It was almost as if the room was weighing his pocket book and finding him wanting. 

"Ah, Mr. Donald Easy, yes?" A man, well into his fifties and with salt & pepper hair that showed more at the temples, stepped from a small collection of what were clearly accountants and tellers and closed the distance. He extended his hand as he approached, "What a pleasure it is to meet you at last."

"Mr. Frederick Alphonse?" Donald ventured, taking the hand and shaking it twice firmly. 

"I'm afraid not, the General Manager is currently busy handling some minor issues in the withdrawal forms for your account. I'm sure you're not too surprised by this." 

"Ah, well, you could say that I'm quite the opposite actually."

"Quite?" The man asked

"Confused." Donald replied. "Rather quite confused. I wasn't aware of any relative that I might have that would have managed to amass such a fortune. Much less to pass it on to me." 

"Ah, well yes that does seem to be strange. Does it not?" The man smiled warmly and motioned for Donald to head toward a string of glass walled offices. "We were just discussing that as well."

"So it isn't exactly just the issues of my new account, is it?" 

"I'm sorry?" 

"You're double checking to make sure that I'm not some criminal conning the royal family out of their money."

The smile only got wider as they entered into one of the offices and they took their respective seats. 

"Why Mr. Easy, If I didn't know any better I'd say you don't trust us."

"You?" Donald said, "I don't know you. I wouldn't say that it's not-knowing in the way of distrust, but it certainly doesn't fill me with confidence." 

"Where are you from originally Mr. Easy?" 

"I'm sorry?" Donald asked, caught for a moment on the surprise question. 

"I'm sure you have nothing to apologize for yet. No, I was asking where you hail from originally." 

"Oh, well I'm from Valyria. Been here my whole life." Donald said.

"And how many lives have you had outside of its walls?" 

"I'm certain that I don't know what you mean." Donald said, he made to stand but the man raised a hand to stop him.

"Please, Mr. Easy, theres no need for such actions. We're simply talking. And what we're talking about will never leave this room. So, I ask again, how many lives have you had outside of the walls of Valyria."

Donald was quiet for a long, long minute. His mind raced from exits to the likelyhood that they would all be covered and he would be trapped. It was true that Donald had done a lot of wrong in his life, between failed business ventures and criminal activities he was certainly no saint... But to be brought up and caught in a bank using a false letter of inheritance. He didn't deserve to be caught like this, or if he did he at least wished he'd had a beer before hand.

With an ease of acceptance, Donald lowered himself back into the chair and crossed his arms. "A few. Not many, I've spent most of my time here and in these walls. Why?" 

"Just a simple question." The man said "Consider it a formality. And what is it that you plan to do with this money if you receive it?" 

"Well I owe the cabby some money for the fare and-"

The man laughed and waved a hand. "No, no, you misunderstand. What do you plan to do with this money? Surely you've considered what will become of someone with that much money and no idea of what to do with it."

Donald blinked. "Well no actually. I hadn't given it much thought. Why?"

"Donald, imagine if you will-" The man paused and shook his head "No, Donald take into consideration what people, well connected people, will do once they find out that you're in possession of such a significant sum of money. Why they may do everything they can do disqualify you from being able to possess that sum, even if it means that don't end up with that money either."

"Why would someone do that?" Donald asked, genuinely questioning the thought. 

"Because money corrupts people. Large amounts of it have strange effects on people, and the knowledge that others have it and they do not can often create issues that are far reaching and well beneath the surface. Perhaps you'll find that every shop you go to that isn't a independently owned from now on charges you just a little bit more because they know, their owners more to the point, that you possess wealth that they do not. And they want to change that."

"But theres so much of it, why can't I just give it away?" 

"Thats an option, and certainly one you can invest in. However I would urge against it. Influxes of wealth, even small, has a terrible habit of creating equally dependant demons."

"So, what just do nothing with it and hole myself up someplace and sit on the money until I too die and pass it on?" 

"Not at all." The man said "Simply that I'd like for you to consider what you plan to do with that income you'll have each week. Perhaps, if you are intent on investing in people, maybe you could find the right kind of people."

"You sound like you've got a few in mind." Donald said. 

"I do, though I don't think you'll be too against the idea once I share them with you."

"Who are you?" Donald asked.

"Me?" The man said "Well I'm the owner of this bank."

Donald laughed and shook his head. "Thats the King. King Deyros owns this bank, and the several others throughout the continent. You're not the King, the King wouldn't involve themselves in something so-"

"Trivial? As, say, 1.4 billion being transfered to a new entity whose only known work involves cons and half-truths told over candle-light for coins on the dollar? No, surely not." 

Donald felt the room freeze up as the temperature seemed to drop rapidly at the knowledge. The King of Valdreya, King Deyros, the weaver of the great city, was sitting across from him and smiling, simply smiling. He'd been doing a lot of that. 

"King Deyros?" Donald asked

"The very same." Deyros said. 

Donald sighed and lowered his head. "Is any of this real? Or did I pass out under that cart?"

"Real as the day is long, I'm afraid." Deyros said "Though you should be pleased, most people don't end up on my list without good reason, and of all the reasons that could have happened this certainly feels like the best outcome." 

"What do you want me to do?" 

"Nothing, or nothing that you don't want to. I'm warning you about the dangers of having money because i'm almost certain you have no idea what will happen. The only thing I really ask is that you take this idea of investment into others as a serious option."

"A list you said?" 

"One I've had my people compile for individuals that may help you along the way. Some fighters, a few engineers, one exceptionally talented sorceress, the usual odds & ends of the dreggs of society with more talent than they have capital."

"So I just, oh thank you," Donald accepted the folder as Deyros slid it across the table towards him "So I just read through this list and...?"

"Do what you feel is best Mr. Easy. I'm not your parent and I've no control over your finances, even if the money is coming out of my bank. No I'm merely here to push you in a direction that may benefit society overall."

"Why me?" Donald asked. 

"Why indeed." Deyros said. "Why indeed. Well, I'd best be off. I'm sure that Frederick will be done with the paperwork I've provided him in a few more minutes. It was a pleasure to meet you Donald D.G.E. Easy."

Donald stood as the King of Valdreya, the most powerful man in the known world, stood courtesly and extended his hand once more for a shake. Donald accepted, shook it twice more, and made to walk towards the door to open it for the King when he noticed another man in his mid thirties careening across the hall towards the office. 

"Mr. Alphonse I assume?" Donald said. 

"The very same." Deyros nodded "Now then, I wish you best in your endeavors going forward."