Ink & Crown

Chapter 82 – More Than Expected

Taren found himself unusually distracted that day.

It was subtle enough that most people in the office would not notice immediately, but to someone who had worked in the same routine for years, even a slight shift in focus became obvious to him.

His attention kept drifting away from the documents in front of him, only to return a few moments later after realizing he had reread the same lines more than once.

He delayed the message longer than he intended to.

Not out of indecision exactly, but because once the message was sent, the matter would stop being theoretical. Until now, the entire thing had remained somewhere between possibility and discussion.

After that, it would become real.

The conversation from the previous night refused to leave his mind completely.

He leaned back slightly in his chair for a brief moment before glancing toward his wristlink again. Eiran had already sent Lucien’s contact earlier that morning with far more enthusiasm than necessary, along with a reminder that simply read:

Don’t overthink it and back out now.

Taren shook his head faintly at the memory. A small smile appeared briefly before disappearing just as quickly. Unfortunately, someone nearby noticed it.

“Interesting,” Varis remarked casually from across the workspace. “Didn’t know staring at your wristlink counted as productive work now.”

Taren looked up calmly.

“Then you should probably stop watching me and focus on your own,” he replied evenly.

Varis snorted lightly at that before returning to his own documents.

The exchange ended there, but Taren could already feel the lack of concentration becoming more noticeable than he preferred.

By lunchtime, he finally stepped away from his desk with a quiet breath. The small cafeteria area was less crowded than usual when he arrived.

Not long after he sat down, the two newer employees joined him naturally, carrying their trays over without hesitation. It had started becoming routine after the previous lunch they shared together.

The young man greeted him first while taking the seat opposite him.

“You seem very distracted today,” he said.

The woman beside him nodded slightly.

“You are unlike yourself today,” she added.

Taren looked mildly surprised. “Am I that obvious?”

“To people who work near you every day?” the young man replied with a small laugh. “A little.”

Taren let out a faint breath through his nose, somewhere between amusement and resignation.

“It’s nothing serious,” he said. “Just thinking about a few things.”

Neither pushed further after hearing that.

The conversation shifted naturally toward work afterward, though Taren’s attention occasionally drifted again despite himself.

Eventually, after lunch ended and the other two returned first, Taren remained seated for a few moments longer.

His gaze lowered once more toward the contact saved in his wristlink. This time, instead of postponing it again, he opened the conversation and typed a short message.

Eiran mentioned you were open to meeting regarding Crownspire Publishing. If the offer still stands, let me know a suitable time.

The message was simple, professional and direct to the point.

Taren read it once before finally sending it. The reply came far quicker than expected.

This evening works if you’re available. The café is fine.

Taren looked at the message quietly for a moment.

That was all. No unnecessary formality, no delay, and no attempt to complicate things.

He locked the screen after a few seconds and leaned back slightly in his chair.

The meeting was set.

That evening, Taren arrived slightly earlier than the agreed time.

The café was even busier than he remembered.

The first time he visited, most of his attention had been on the negotiation itself. Now, without that distraction, he found himself noticing the operation more carefully.

The staff moved quickly, but not chaotically.

Orders flowed steadily between counters and tables without the confusion usually found in overcrowded places. Customers continued entering despite nearly every seat already being occupied, yet the atmosphere remained surprisingly controlled.

That alone caught his attention.

Most rapidly growing businesses struggled during expansion periods. Systems broke down. Staff became inconsistent. Small mistakes multiplied under pressure.

But here, despite the obvious strain of volume, the pace still held together.

Taren stepped aside briefly near the entrance, quietly observing.

One of the employees apologized to a waiting group while simultaneously coordinating table movement with another staff member carrying trays toward the kitchen area. Neither appeared panicked despite the crowd.

More importantly, customers did not seem irritated by the wait at all.

That was rare. Very rare. A business could survive occasional mistakes, but it could not survive consistently frustrated customers.

Taren’s gaze shifted briefly across the café before stopping near one of the farther tables.

Lucien was already there and he was not alone by himself.

Dorian, whom Taren had met during the earlier negotiation, sat across from Lucien with several documents open across his wristlink and a slate resting on the table in front of him. Beside them sat someone Taren had not seen before, a young woman currently discussing something with the other two in a focused tone that he could not fully hear from the distance.

The three of them looked less like friends casually gathering at a café and more like people already in the middle of serious work.

For some reason, that detail mattered, as it made the entire thing feel far more structured and professional than Taren had expected from such a newly formed company.

Lucien noticed him first. There was a brief pause in the conversation at the table before he stood.

“Taren,” he greeted calmly.

Taren approached and gave a small nod.

“Sorry if I’m early.”

“You’re not,” Lucien replied. “We started discussing something else while waiting.”

As Taren reached the table, Lucien gestured lightly toward the others.

“You already met Dorian last time,” he said. “And this is Lunessa. She joined us recently.”

Dorian nodded politely, though there was a faint surprise in his expression after properly recognizing Taren.

The situation was admittedly unusual.

The same representative from Greyford Publishing who had come to negotiate rights only days earlier was now sitting across from them in an entirely different context.

Lunessa greeted him politely as well before Taren took the remaining seat.

For a brief moment, the atmosphere carried a faint awkwardness beneath the professionalism.

Lucien looked at him once, then slightly narrowed his eyes in realization.

“…You’re the person Eiran was talking about.”

Taren let out a quiet breath through his nose.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Though apparently my nephew decided not to mention that part.”

That caused Lunessa to look between them with visible surprise.

“Nephew?”

Lucien leaned back slightly, faint amusement appearing in his expression as several small details from his earlier conversation with Eiran suddenly made much more sense.

“That explains several things.”

Taren shook his head and gave him a resigned look.

“He probably thought hiding the relation would make the recommendation sound more professional.”

Dorian gave a short laugh at that.

Lucien nodded slightly.

“I already suspected something was off,” he said. “He reacted like someone trying very hard not to reveal information he already knew.”

A small pause followed before Lucien added calmly,

“I don’t know how successful his acting career is going, but I can confidently say he doesn’t know how to lie with a straight face.”

The table laughed lightly.

Even Taren found himself smiling slightly despite the embarrassment on Eiran’s behalf.

The tension eased considerably after that.

Lunessa leaned back slightly, still amused.

“So, the actor and the publishing negotiator are related,” she said. “That’s unexpectedly fitting somehow.”

Taren gave a helpless look. “I’m still not sure why he got this invested in the matter.”

Lucien answered before anyone else could. “He seems to care about you a lot.”

The response was simple and matter-of-fact.

Taren paused briefly before nodding once. “Yes,” he admitted quietly. “He does.”

The conversation settled naturally after that.

Dorian closed the documents in front of him before speaking.

“Since we’re all here already, we might as well move directly into the actual discussion.”

His tone shifted slightly more professional now.

“We’re still in the middle of structuring most of Crownspire internally,” he continued. “Which means a lot of responsibilities currently overlap more than they should.”

Taren nodded. “That much I assumed.”

Lucien rested his arm lightly against the table.

“We’re managing for now because the scale is still small,” he said. “But that won’t remain practical for long if things continue growing.”

Taren listened carefully.

Unlike Eiran, he naturally focused less on enthusiasm and more on structure.

“How many people are currently handling publishing operations?” he asked.

“For the publishing side specifically?” Dorian replied. “Effectively three.”

Taren looked mildly surprised despite himself. “Only three?”

“For now,” Lucien said calmly. “Most departments technically exist only on paper at the moment.”

That honesty immediately caught Taren’s attention, as many new companies exaggerated their readiness during early stages, but Lucien did the opposite.

“We prioritized immediate operational stability first,” Lucien continued. “The press acquisition, current production flow, financial structuring, supplier stabilization, and distribution continuity.”

Dorian nodded slightly beside him.

“Building too quickly before stabilizing core operations would create unnecessary pressure later.”

Taren glanced briefly between them, mildly surprised by the answer.

It was a practical way of looking at things. More importantly, it suggested they already understood the dangers of scaling too aggressively during the early stages of growth.

That alone was a good sign.

Before coming here, part of him had expected the opposite.

Young founders who achieved sudden success often developed the urge to expand too quickly, driven by excitement or the need to prove themselves before the momentum faded. They rushed growth, overloaded operations, and eventually collapsed under pressure they created themselves.

But so far, Crownspire did not feel like that.

The ambition was clearly there, yet it seemed restrained by planning rather than impulse.

And for someone like Taren, that distinction mattered far more than enthusiasm alone.

“What about future acquisitions?” Taren asked. “One successful title won’t sustain an entire publishing house long-term.”

“We know,” Lucien answered immediately.

There was no defensiveness in his tone.

“We’re not treating this as a short-term success cycle.”

Taren remained quiet, waiting for him to continue and Lucien did.

“Right now, growth matters less than stability,” he said. “I’m not interested in flooding the catalogue quickly just to appear larger than we are.”

Lunessa spoke next.

“A lot of smaller companies collapse because they chase expansion before building identity,” she said. “They sign too many weak titles, spread resources thin, and eventually lose both money and reputation.”

Taren looked toward her briefly.

That was also true.

Dorian continued where she left off.

“For now, selective acquisition makes more sense. Fewer projects with better support.”

Taren slowly leaned back in his chair.

The discussion had already become far more grounded than he expected.

None of them sounded naïve. Ambitious, certainly. But definitely not careless.

“What about authors?” Taren asked after a moment. “Established writers rarely move toward new publishing houses unless there’s a strong reason.”

Lucien nodded once. “I know.”

There was a short pause before he continued.

“That’s why I’m not planning to compete through scale immediately. We can’t outbid major publishers consistently right now, and pretending otherwise would be stupid.”

The bluntness of the answer surprised Taren again.

“So what’s the approach then?” he asked.

Lucien answered calmly.

“Trust first,” he said. “Then reputation. Scale comes later.”

The table grew quieter for a moment.

Lucien’s expression remained steady as he continued.

“A lot of authors aren’t unhappy because large publishers exist,” he said. “They’re unhappy because they feel disposable inside systems too large to care about individual work anymore.”

Taren’s gaze sharpened slightly.

Lucien noticed, but continued normally.

“I’m not trying to build the biggest company immediately,” he said. “I’m trying to build one that people actually want to work with.”

For the first time since arriving, Taren found himself genuinely impressed.

Not because the statement sounded idealistic, but because it sounded intentional.

Lucien was not speaking like someone improvising ambition after sudden success.

He sounded like someone who had already thought through the long-term shape of what he wanted to build.

And strangely enough, that realization made Crownspire feel far more real than the crowded café or newly revived press ever had.