Chapter 874 – Dragon Elders [Part 3]

"Now," he said, lifting the transmuted gold teacup like a mic he was about to drop. "Anything else?"

Liang tapped a claw on the armrest, the faint click echoing off cedar beams. "How about brunch? We have dim sum. Lighter talk, fewer daggers." His gaze slid to Yue. "And, Ancestor, perhaps you’d like a stroll? Your garments from centuries past are still preserved. The room is untouched, cleaned, but not rearranged."

Sira’s fan snapped open again. "Her clothes? Five-hundred year old vintage? Girl, we’re taking you shopping."

Liang’s mouth twitched. "She may still wish to retrieve keepsakes."

Yue stood, smooth as breath. "I will." Then to Liang, level but cordial. "You want a private word, Patriarch? Fine." Yes, she caught Liang’s intention.

Liang offered his arm like a courtly host. The two dragons glided out.

Naomi leaned over to Lux. "Will they be okay?"

"Liang’s basically her great-great-grand-kid," Lux murmured. "Worst he’ll do is guilt-spiral about family tradition and ask why she chose me over her family."

Naomi nodded.

One silver-sashed elder stepped forward, bowing just enough to stay dignified while radiating equal parts curiosity and hospitality. "If it pleases the distinguished dev— guests, allow us a brief tour of our inner gardens before we seat you in the west dining hall. The koi are particularly proud this season, and the magnolia walk is in bloom. A pleasant appetite sharpener."

Lux flashed a grin that said ’tourist mode’ engaged. "Lead the way, sir. I’m a sucker for proud fish."

Soft laughter rode the cedar-scented air as retainers pivoted in a smooth V-formation.

Lux’s entourage was escorted to the west alcove, technically "guest of high honor, non-clan." It smelled like cedar and legacy. Elders trickled in, each measured step saying ’I’m not spying, I’m curious.’

Lux picked the seat with perfect 360-degree vantage, habit.

Mira took the spot at his right, immediately commandeering the tea service.

Sira sprawled left, legs crossed, fan draped like a bored empress.

Ely, Naomi, Lullaby, and Rava filled the semi-circle, tentacles discreetly folded, hoodie half-unzipped, elf posture flawless.

An elder eased closer, long silver beard, spectacles rimmed in jade. Puzzle-face. "Heir Vaelthorn... forgive ignorance. You say Hell has an economy? Trade? Surely souls are the currency, what more?"

"Souls are the blue-chip asset, professor. But we run derivatives, afterlife futures, karma options, sin-indexed bonds. You’d be amazed what a disgraced warlord’s redemption arc is worth in ninety-day speculation."

A collective intake of breath, equal parts horror and fascination.

Sira chimed in, wicked grin. "Pride hosts the IPOs. We ring the bell with severed complacency."

One elder coughed into his sleeve. Another scribbled frantic notes.

Rava nudged toward Lullaby.

The elder sipped tea. "Is there, um, ethical oversight?"

Lux thought for a moment, then flashed a grin. "Absolutely. It’s Hell... regulations everywhere. They keep the bribes organized and the chaos properly indexed."

Mira elbowed him, gentle but pointed. "Sarcasm filter, darling."

He lifted both hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, transparency clause. We actually do have compliance demons. Little horns, huge clipboards, obsessive about triple-signatures. They roam the corridors shrieking about audit trails and eternal accountability."

Ely tucked a strand of hair behind a pointed ear, curiosity sharpening her gaze. "Intriguing. Internal oversight in the Infernal exchange."

Lux beamed, finger-guns at her. "Exactly! Hell may burn, but our paperwork? Immaculate."

The elder with spectacles adjusted them, excitement gleaming. "Could such instruments be adapted to mortal markets?"

"I’m not sure," Lux said, swirling his teacup with theatrical boredom. "I’ve never really tried mortal markets. At least, not seriously."

Spectacles Elder leaned closer, practically salivating academic intrigue. "Why not? Surely the potential is immense."

Lux shrugged, flashing a grin that bordered on wicked. "Because mortal markets are... well, frankly? Too easy. You can goose a currency, spin rumors, spike commodities, whole thing folds like origami. Where’s the fun? Souls, on the other hand, have immutable supply. Corrupt them? Yes. Redeem them? Sometimes. But you can’t print new souls in the basement."

Naomi choked on tea. Sira patted her back, cackling softly.

Lux kept rolling. "Here? All you need is access and a friendly treasury governor. You can nudge the presses, juice the velocity, engineer a ’crisis’ and short it on the way down. Nice payday, sure, but intellectually? Meh." He flicked a wrist. "I buy a few companies now and then, keeps me entertained, but it’s nap money compared to sin-bonds."

Elder Spectacles blinked, processing nap money as a unit of account. "It’s truly that bad?"

Lux nodded. "In Hell, corruption is the sandbox. On Earth, corruption is the architecture. So yes... too easy to manipulate equals too boring."

Across the table, a plum-robed elder tapped claw to lip, voice dropping. "And conflict risk? You invited the King of Hell’s scrutiny by freeing Ancestor Yue. How do you price that?"

Lux’s grin cooled by two degrees, still amused, now edged. "Risk premium’s already baked in. Kaelmor can’t move openly without breaking his own narrative. He thinks Yue’s dead." Lux set the cup down with a soft thunk. "If he learns otherwise, Greed covers downside with layered pacts and sovereign deterrence." He paused, eyes bright with that Twin-Sin gleam. "Or, in simpler terms: I hedge with terrifying friends and bigger coffers."

Rava raised her glass. "Diversification. Never leave Hell without it."

The elder sat back, acknowledging touché with a respectful nod.

Conversations webbed.

Naomi quizzed a dragon scholar on mythic metallurgy, Ely negotiating possible elven-dragon botanical exchanges, Sira re-educating two juniors on the difference between demon and devil hierarchy. Lullaby murmured an offer to nap-coach a stressed attendant. The attendant looked deeply tempted.

Lux kept half an ear on everything, the other half on Yue’s absence. Liang and she had been gone ten minutes. He pictured them in that preserved chamber, dustless scrolls, moon-windows casting pale rectangles on old silk robes. Yue touching a long-forgotten hair ornament, Liang apologizing for centuries of silence.

’Give them fifteen,’ Lux decided. ’If the conversation spikes mana, intervene.’

Mira poured more tea, faint citrus cutting jasmine. "You’re scanning exits."

"Habit," he replied.

"Worried?"

He shrugged. "Only about coffee withdrawals."

Mira smirked. "They’ll source beans. Dragons bend for exceptional addictions."

A toast of chrysanthemum cups sealed that prophecy.