Ink & Crown

Chapter 73 – The Terms

Morning came with the same steady rhythm as always.

By the time Taren arrived, the office was already active. Papers had begun to move between desks, and the low hum of conversation had settled in. Nothing outwardly suggested that anything had changed.

But something had.

The book was no longer on the chief editor’s desk.

Taren didn’t need to ask where it had gone.

He walked toward his own desk, but his attention shifted slightly before he reached it.

The other editor was already working.

The book lay open beside him, but his focus was elsewhere. A projected interface from his wristlink hovered just above the desk surface, displaying multiple layered panels. Sections were arranged with precision, clauses highlighted, terms being adjusted in real time as he moved through them.

Taren slowed slightly as he approached.

The other editor didn’t look up immediately. His fingers moved with practiced familiarity, expanding sections, modifying lines, and finalizing entries with quick, efficient motions.

When he finally noticed Taren, he leaned back slightly.

“Early start,” he said.

Taren’s gaze moved to the interface.

“You’ve begun drafting already.”

“Of course,” the man replied. “No reason to delay.”

Taren stepped closer, his eyes scanning the visible sections. Even at a glance, the structure was familiar. Duration clauses, rights allocation, and revenue splits were all arranged in standard form, with several sections already finalized.

He read further.

The details confirmed what he expected. The rights coverage was broad, extending across translation and adaptation without clear separation. The duration leaned long, and the revenue share allocated to the author was present, but limited.

Taren’s gaze paused on one section before shifting to another.

Then he looked up.

“This is too restrictive,” he said.

The other editor’s expression didn’t change.

“It’s standard.”

Taren kept his tone even.

“It’s excessive for a book with this level of potential.”

The man gave a small, almost amused smile.

“You’re still assuming it has that level of potential.”

“I’m evaluating what I’ve read.”

“And I’m evaluating what we need to secure,” the man replied.

His tone remained calm and controlled.

“There’s no point leaving value on the table.”

Taren’s gaze returned briefly to the interface.

“You’re not leaving value,” he said. “You’re pushing too much upfront.”

The man leaned back slightly in his chair.

“If the author agrees, then it isn’t too much.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then we move on.”

The answer came easily, without hesitation.

Taren studied him for a moment.

“That approach doesn’t always work,” he said.

“It works often enough.”

There was no argument in his voice, only certainty.

Taren didn’t press immediately. Instead, he looked back at the contract interface.

“If we narrow this,” he said, gesturing lightly toward one section, “and separate the rights properly, we can make the offer more balanced. It increases the chance of agreement.”

The other editor shook his head slightly.

“Or it weakens our position from the start.”

“It builds a working relationship.”

“It gives leverage away.”

Their eyes met briefly, and the difference in approach between them was clear.

Taren straightened slightly.

“This author won’t respond well to these terms,” he said.

The other editor gave a small shrug.

“Most don’t at first.”

That was the end of it, at least from his side.

Taren remained still for a moment longer, then stepped back.

The conversation had reached its limit for now.

Taren did not return to the conversation after that.

He stepped away from the desk and resumed his work, though his attention did not remain there for long.

After a while, he gathered a few notes and stepped out of the office.

The first place he went was a bookstore the company had worked with for years. The owner recognized him immediately and greeted him casually.

“It’s been a while,” the man said.

“I wanted to ask about a recent title,” Taren replied, mentioning the book.

The response came without hesitation.

“That one is moving well,” the owner said.

Taren asked a few more questions, not directly about numbers but about restocks, frequency, and demand. The answers were enough to form a clear picture.

It was not limited to one store.

He visited another, then another. In each place, the pattern remained consistent. Copies were moving steadily, and in some cases, faster than expected. Several stores had already reordered more than once.

After visiting a number of locations, he continued gathering information remotely, calling and reaching out to other bookstore owners the company had worked with and asking the same questions. The responses followed the same trend, with steady demand and repeated restocks across different areas.

Taren did not get exact figures, but he did not need them. By the time he finished, he had a reasonable estimate that placed the sales well above what would be expected for a new author.

He paused for a moment after that realization.

For a new release, those numbers were not small.

Back at the office, he did not go to his desk immediately. Instead, he searched for the book online. It did not take long to find it on Inkspire.

The number was displayed clearly.

It had already crossed fifteen thousand digital copies, and it continued to rise.

Taren paused when he saw it, his attention settling on the counter for longer than he intended clearly surprised and shocked to the see those numbers.

For a new author, that number alone was enough to stand out.

He scrolled further.

The discussion threads were active, far more than he expected. It wasn’t just scattered comments or occasional reactions. Readers were returning repeatedly, discussing details, sharing interpretations, and building on each other’s thoughts.

Taren read through several of them, then a few more.

The engagement didn’t drop off.

If anything, it pulled him in.

He found himself slowing down, paying closer attention, following the flow of the discussions as different readers pieced together theories and interpretations of the story. Some were detailed, others speculative, but all of them showed the same thing.

They were invested.

At some point, he realized he was no longer just reviewing them.

He was reading them as a reader.

He moved to the fan page next.

The activity there matched what he had already seen, if not exceeded it. Posts were frequent, discussions ongoing, and the responses came quickly, as if the audience was always present.

It wasn’t something that could be forced or manufactured.

It had grown on its own.

One post drew his attention more than the others.

The next book.

There was already a confirmed release window, and the response to it was immediate. Readers were counting down, speculating, revisiting earlier parts of the story, and discussing what might come next.

Taren leaned back slightly.

The numbers were one thing, but the consistency of demand was another.

But this level of engagement…

This was no longer a question of potential. The book had already proven itself.

Which meant treating it like a regular book would not simply be ineffective, but a mistake.

He exhaled slowly.

Even with this, he knew the approach inside the company would not change easily.

Still, that did not change what needed to be done. At the very least, the author should not be approached without understanding what they already had.

Taren straightened slightly, then returned to what he was doing.

A short while later, the chief editor passed through the main floor, his pace unhurried but deliberate. Conversations softened slightly as he moved past, the shift in attention subtle but noticeable.

He did not stop immediately, only glancing across the desks as if measuring progress without needing to ask.

Before he could say anything, the other editor stood.

“The draft is ready,” he said.

The chief gave a brief nod.

“Proceed.”

He did not review the terms.

He did not ask for changes.

The decision came easily, as if it had already been made long before the draft was completed.

Taren, who had been seated a short distance away, looked up at that.

He had been reading through the discussion threads moments earlier, his attention pulled into them more than he intended.

That broke his focus immediately.

He stood almost immediately and walked toward them.

“I need to say something,” he said.

The chief glanced at him, pausing just long enough to acknowledge it.

“Go on.”

Taren didn’t waste time.

“The book has already crossed fifteen thousand digital copies,” he said.

The chief’s expression shifted slightly, not dramatic, but enough to show that it had registered as the number wasn’t small.

Still, he didn’t respond immediately.

Digital performance, while useful, was not always the deciding factor.

Taren continued.

“Physical sales are strong as well,” he said. “From what I’ve gathered, it’s already moved well beyond three thousand copies, and the demand is still steady.”

This time, the reaction was clearer.

The chief looked at him directly.

“You confirmed that?” he asked.

“I checked it myself,” Taren replied. “Visited stores we work with and contacted others. The pattern is consistent across locations.”

The chief didn’t speak for a moment.

Selling digital copies was one thing.

Physical distribution was another entirely.

If those numbers were even close to accurate, then this was no longer a typical case.

Taren continued before the silence stretched.

“The engagement is high as well,” he said. “The discussion threads are active, and the audience is returning consistently. There’s already anticipation for the next release.”

The chief’s gaze narrowed slightly.

“Next release?”

“The second book,” Taren said. “It’s already scheduled.”

That gave him pause.

A follow-up arriving this soon, combined with sustained engagement, changed the projection.

The chief’s attention shifted briefly, his thoughts clearly moving ahead of the current moment.

For the first time, there was a visible reconsideration.

Not hesitation, but re-evaluation.

“Then we may need to adjust…” he began.

“Or we secure it properly now,” the other editor said, cutting in smoothly.

The interruption was controlled, but deliberate.

“If the numbers are accurate, then this is exactly the kind of case where we shouldn’t loosen our position,” he continued. “If it grows further, the cost of securing it later will only increase.”

He glanced briefly at Taren before looking back at the chief.

“This is the right time to be firm.”

The chief didn’t respond immediately.

The two perspectives settled in front of him.

One pushing for adjustment.

The other for control.

Taren spoke again.

“If we approach with these terms, we risk losing the deal entirely,” he said.

The other editor shook his head slightly.

“Or we secure it before others step in,” he replied.

The chief exhaled quietly.

The decision did not come immediately this time.

But when it did, it settled in the same direction.

“Proceed as planned,” he said.

Taren started to respond, but the chief raised a hand slightly.

“If it doesn’t work, we adjust later,” he added.

The tone left little room for further discussion.

Taren held his position for a moment longer, then nodded once.

“Understood.”

The other editor allowed himself a faint, controlled smile before returning to his work.

The matter was settled.

At least for now.

By mid-morning, the arrangements had already been made.

The other editor approached Taren’s desk without urgency, as if it were just another task being moved forward.

“The author Lucien has been contacted,” he said. “Lucien Ashborne.”

Taren looked up slightly at that.

“The meeting is set for this afternoon,” the man continued. “At Ashborne Café. It seems to be his family’s place.”

There was a brief pause before he added,

“Finish your lunch early. We’ll head out right after.”

His tone remained casual, but there was a clear expectation behind it.

“And when we’re there,” he said, glancing at Taren briefly, “just observe. I’ll handle the discussion.”

Taren held his gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod.

“Understood.”

The other editor did not wait for anything further and moved on, already shifting his attention to the next task.

Taren remained where he was.

There wasn’t much left for him to do at this point.

He had said what needed to be said, and the decision had already been made.

What remained was to see how it would unfold.