Chapter 26 – A Name to Build On

  The morning sun slanted through the café windows, painting soft amber lines across the familiar table near the corner—the one that had somehow become their “official headquarters.” Lucien sat there surrounded by his usual circle: Dorian with his ever-present slate, Kaelen doodling diagrams on a napkin, Riven leaning back in his chair like it was a stage prop, Seliora with her arms folded and that knowing half-smile, and Evelis quietly stirring her tea.

  Between Lucien and Evelis sat Alina, happily nibbling on a rainbow bun, the picture of mischief.

  “Alright,” Kaelen said, looking up from his napkin. “Sales completely blew up after the MICF promotion, right? Rendall’s press says they’re printing nonstop now. So, Lucien—” he leaned forward with exaggerated seriousness, “how exactly are we shipping all these physical copies?”

  Lucien blinked. “Shipping?”

  Kaelen arched an eyebrow. “Yes, shipping. Distribution. Logistics. The part that happens after people actually buy the books.”

  Lucien’s face went completely blank. He looked from Kaelen to Riven to Dorian, one by one, hoping someone would speak up for him.

  The silence lasted two seconds—then Riven burst out laughing so hard he nearly dropped his cup. “I told you! I told you he hadn’t thought about it!” he wheezed. “Our dear genius decides to self-publish and doesn’t even plan how to deliver the thing!”

  Seliora covered her mouth, chuckling. Kaelen shook his head in theatrical exasperation. “Unbelievable. You’re lucky you’ve got us, Lucien.”

  “Especially Dorian,” Riven added dramatically. “Our resident lawyer-accountant-miracle-worker who handles everything Lucien forgets.”

  Lucien rubbed the back of his neck, trying to smile. “Alright, alright—maybe I didn’t think that far ahead.”

  Evelis hid a grin behind her teacup. “Maybe?”

  Alina giggled so loudly half the café turned to look. “Luci, you’re so clumsy sometimes! Even clumsier than me!”

  Lucien turned to her, feigning a glare. “You’re forgetting who’s supposed to be the older one here.”

  Alina squealed and ducked behind Evelis. “Evelis! He’s doing the scary face again!”

  Evelis laughed softly, moving between them. “I’d hide too, Alina. That face could scare the dough back into the oven.”

  She turned to Lucien with an amused smile “Face it, Lucien—you never win against her.”

  Lucien shook his head, pretending to give up. “Unbelievable. Everyone’s ganging up on me now.” The laughter swelled around the table. Even Dorian cracked a rare smile while Kaelen raised his cup like a toast.

  “Fine, fine,” Lucien said at last, surrendering with both hands up. “I’m clumsy. Satisfied?”

  The table erupted again until the noise softened into the comfortable hum of friends being friends.

  Then Dorian cleared his throat and slid his slate to the center. “Alright, jokes aside—since Rendall’s press has already printed a good quantity and they’ve agreed to store the stock, we can start shipping immediately.”

  Lucien leaned forward. “You’ve already planned it?”

  “Of course,” Dorian said matter-of-factly. “Inkspire’s reach is still mostly within Marilon. It’s a local platform—barely anyone outside the city knows about it, and only a few in the other Free Cities or City-States in Calvessan. So, most orders will come from here. Any outliers from beyond Marilon, we’ll handle later—apologies and delayed fulfillment if needed. The quantities will be too small to matter right now.”

  “As for orders from outside the Calvessan continent…” He gave a small shrug. “Highly unlikely. The odds of someone on another continent stumbling across your novel are slim to none. And if someone did find it—well, then you’re exceptionally lucky, Lucien.”

  Meanwhile, in Aurelia Prime...

  In the quiet expanse of the Imperial Gardens, two figures strolled along a marble path lined with blossoms. The air was still—until both Seraphina and Kara suddenly sneezed at the exact same moment.

  They froze, staring at each other in surprise.

  “Did you catch a cold, Kara?” Seraphina asked, rubbing her nose.

  “I was about to ask you the same thing, Your Highness,” Kara replied, blinking in confusion.

  For a beat, silence—then both burst into soft laughter.

  “Strange coincidence,” Seraphina murmured with a small smile.

  Kara shook her head lightly, amused. “Maybe someone’s talking about us,” she said half-jokingly.

  Seraphina chuckled under her breath, brushing a fallen petal from her sleeve. “Then I hope they’re saying good things.”

  And with that, they continued walking beneath the blossoms, unaware that across the sea, their names had just been mentioned in jest inside a small café in Marilon.

  Back at the café, Dorian tapped the slate, displaying neat diagrams.

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  “So we focus on Marilon first. We’ll list the book on the main local e-commerce networks for visibility and easier delivery. As for physical stores, we prioritize the big chains—can’t cover every tiny bookstore yet. That kind of distribution network takes months to build.”

  He swiped again, showing a map of delivery routes.

  “The warehouse at Rendall’s Press will serve as our base. All shipments—bulk or retail—will go out from there. The e-commerce logistics companies can pick up directly, handle last-mile delivery, and manage returns. It’s efficient and sustainable for our scale.”

  Everyone stared at him for a moment—then the table broke into overlapping exclamations.

  “Wow,” Kaelen said, genuinely impressed.

  “That’s… thorough,” Seliora murmured.

  Riven leaned back, grinning. “See? What would we be without our numbers-and-logic man?”

  Lucien laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Utterly lost.”

  “Exactly,” Riven said, raising his cup again. “To Dorian—the man who makes sure Lucien doesn’t accidentally sink his own world!”

  They all cheered and clinked cups, the café buzzing with joy again. Lucien could only smile, warmth spreading through his chest. He didn’t say it aloud, but the thought was clear—whatever future waited for Ashborne, he was impossibly lucky to have them all beside him.

  “Now, there’s another factor,” Dorian continued. “Since we already have a large number of orders coming from MICF—students, professors, staff—it makes sense to set up a collection point there instead of shipping each order individually. Somewhere central—maybe the library or the student registry hall. Payments are already done, so all they’d need to do is pick up their copies. It’ll ease our workload and free up shipping capacity for the rest of the city.”

  Lucien nodded slowly, impressed. “That… actually makes perfect sense. But we’d need permission for that, wouldn’t we?”

  “Exactly,” Dorian replied. “You’ll need to ask Chancellor Voss to authorize the pickup spot. Once she approves, I’ll coordinate with Rendall’s to send the books in batches.”

  Seliora leaned forward, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “You can already consider it done. When have you ever seen Chancellor Voss refuse one of Lucien’s requests?”

  Riven grinned immediately. “She probably has a special approval button just for him.”

  Kaelen chuckled. “Wouldn’t surprise me. ‘Ashborne request detected—approved automatically.’”

  “Yes, yes, alright,” Lucien said quickly, cheeks warming as the table laughed. “I’ll ask her. Happy now?”

  “Very,” Dorian said dryly, tapping a note onto his slate. “I’ll mark it as ‘pending Lucien charm deployment.’”

  “Oh, come on,” Lucien muttered, but even he couldn’t help laughing as the group burst into another round of good-natured teasing.

  The commotion around the table was just beginning to settle when the soft clatter of plates drew their attention.

  Darius and Cerys approached with new trays—steaming cups, slices of honey-spice bread, a few plates of duskberry tarts, and an extra pitcher of Frostwane spiced milk.

  “Looks like the talking’s making you all hungrier than usual,” Cerys said with a fond smile as she began setting the plates down.

  “Thanks, Mum,” Lucien said, half-grinning as everyone chimed in with thanks. Even Riven made a dramatic bow. “The royal banquet arrives again!”

  Darius rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the pride in his tone. “Eat before it gets cold. And don’t think I didn’t notice how you all turned my café table into a council hall.”

  The comment earned a few knowing grins around the table.

  But before the conversation could slip back into teasing, Dorian cleared his throat. “Actually, that’s perfect timing,” he said, gesturing to the empty seats. “Would you both sit for a moment? We need to discuss something important.”

  Cerys and Darius exchanged a curious glance, then sat beside them. Lucien blinked. “You didn’t tell me about this,” he said quietly.

  Dorian gave him a knowing look. “That’s because I wanted everyone here for it.”

  He placed his slate on the table, its screen glowing softly. “We’ve reached the point where running everything in Lucien’s name alone isn’t going to work anymore. You’re dealing with printers, distributors, logistics companies, and—soon enough—larger partners. To make this sustainable and professional, we need to register a company. Something formal. It’ll help others trust us, make transactions smoother, and give us legal ground for sales, revenue, promotions—everything that’s starting to grow faster than you realize.”

  The table fell silent for a moment. Even the soft hum of the café seemed to fade.

  Then Dorian smiled faintly. “So, this is where you all come in. We need a name.”

  For a moment, neither Darius nor Cerys spoke. They looked at each other—an entire lifetime of struggle reflected in that single glance. The years of debt, long nights, quiet hopes. They had once worried only about surviving another month, and now… Dorian was asking them to help name a company.

  Cerys’s eyes glistened. She turned to Lucien with a smile full of pride. “Whatever Lucien decides, that will be the name. He’s worked for this, earned this. We’ll stand behind whatever makes him happy.”

  Darius nodded firmly beside her. “He can decide that himself. He’s earned the right.”

  Lucien smiled, a little taken aback by how proud they looked. “You two really know how to make things harder to say, don’t you?” he said lightly, his voice soft.

  Then he turned to Alina, who had been watching wide-eyed, her little hands folded on the table. “What about you, Alina? Any ideas for what we should call it?”

  Her eyes lit up instantly. “Me? Really?”

  “Really,” Lucien said, smiling. “You’re part of this too.”

  Alina’s mind went into overdrive. “Hmm… maybe something fun! Like my cartoon characters! Or butterflies! Or cute animals! Or—oh—‘Rainbow Dreams!’”

  Everyone chuckled as she kept going, piling one idea after another with the unfiltered enthusiasm only a child could manage.

  Finally, she stopped, frowning in exaggerated concentration. “Luci, this is too hard! There are too many good ones!”

  Lucien leaned closer. “Okay, think about this—what would you want to tell your friends when you show them your brother’s company?”

  Alina’s eyes went wide. Then, as if struck by lightning, she grinned. “Then we’ll call it Ashborne! That way everyone will know it’s ours right away!”

  The table erupted in laughter—warm, full, and entirely genuine. Cerys wiped her eyes, still smiling. “That’s perfect,” she said. Darius nodded, proud and content.

  Dorian tapped his slate, half-grinning. “Then Ashborne it is?”

  A small smile tugged at Lucien’s lips. “Almost. Let’s make it Ashborne Holdings.”

  Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Holdings?”

  Lucien smiled faintly. “If we’re building something, we might as well build it to last.”

  For a second, no one spoke. Then Dorian’s expression softened into approval. “It seems you’ve got a grander vision than I gave you credit for, planning to open subsidiaries under Ashborne Holdings already? Not satisfied with just one success, are you?” he said quietly. “That’s good. It means you’re not getting comfortable with success—you’re planning for what comes after.”

  Evelis smiled. “Dream big, build bigger. That’s how it starts.”

  Seliora nodded in agreement. “Ashborne Holdings,” she said aloud, as if testing the sound. “It fits.”

  Kaelen grinned. “Has a nice ring to it. Sounds like the kind of name that’ll be around a long time.”

  Riven leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Well, when those subsidiaries start popping up, make sure I’m the head of one, alright? Maybe Entertainment division—I’ll handle all the music.”

  Lucien snorted. “Get lost.”

  Everyone chuckled, Riven most of all, raising his cup with a smirk. “You’ll come crawling back when you need theme songs and stage shows.”

  Lucien only shook his head, still smiling. But somewhere beneath the laughter, the thought quietly settled in his mind—

  one day, not just Riven, but all of them would have a place within Ashborne Holdings.

  Cerys reached across the table, resting a hand over Lucien’s. “Whatever you do, we’re proud of you.”

  Lucien looked at each of them—his friends, his family, his world—and felt a rush of quiet certainty.

  “Ashborne Holdings it is,” he said.

  And with that, the name was sealed—with warmth, love, and the soft hum of a café that had once been fighting to survive, now ready to carry a legacy.