Chapter 1: Victor Kane’s World

Kane Tower – 60th Floor

Victor Kane did not read newspapers.

This was not so much a principle, but a condition of his life. Anything of consequence was brought to him and reduced and rearranged into a condition that required no effort on his part. To him, reading meant uncertainty, and he had long ago removed uncertainty from his affairs.

For this reason, when his assistant, Harris, laid a newspaper on Victor Kane’s desk, neatly folded to frame a single advert, Kane knew straight away that it must contain something of great importance. For him, everything could be summarised. A man of his wealth did not need to read; he had people to do that for him.

The desk was raised slightly above the rest of the office. This was not immediately obvious to visitors, but Kane was aware of it. From where he sat, he could look down on anyone who came into the room, and those who entered rarely adjusted to this. So anyone who entered did so with the skyline and Kane before them.

Behind him, the city of New York stretched across the glass wall. The windows ran floor to ceiling. Kane never faced the window; his desk was deliberately turned towards the office, facing inwards. He faced people.

Harris Blackwell stood before the desk in his usual black suit, his height almost unsettling indoors, as if he had been built for doorframes that no longer existed. Most people would have been slightly below the line of the desk, but Harris was an exception, all long limbs and controlled stillness.

His hair was short and dark, cut recently to look slightly too neat, which gave him an unintended boyishness and clashed awkwardly with his otherwise severe presence. He was thin in build, but without appearing fragile.

Harris rarely commented on anything, and when he did, it was not usually remembered, which suited him. It was part of why he had risen so rapidly through the Kane organisation to become Victor Kane’s long-term assistant, while others did not reappear after crossing Harris.

Victor Kane was on the phone, talking a mile a minute, until he looked down at the advert. For the first time in half an hour, he paused. At almost eighty, Kane was slumped into his chair, his bulky frame folded into itself. He wore his customary golf shirt and slacks, almost a uniform now. He had stopped dressing long ago for anything beyond habit, even though he rarely played golf anymore.

The advert said: “Kingdom for sale. Auction.”

“Something has come up. I’ll get one of my people to phone you back.” He ended the call without waiting for a reply.

He looked at the advert again. “A kingdom,” he said to himself.

“Is this real?”

“I phoned the newspaper, and it’s real,” Harris replied.

No logo. No advertising. Just plain black text. Something about this felt off to Victor Kane.

“Who placed it?”

“They wouldn’t say.”

“This is bad marketing.” Victor Kane looked at Harris.

“Or selective clients,” Harris replied.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re not trying to sell it to just anyone.”

Victor Kane smiled. “They’re doing a poor job,” he replied.

Harris did not react.

“It includes an address,” he said, pointing at the bottom of the advert. “Private auction, limited attendance.”

“And it’s only two blocks away.”

Victor Kane picked up the newspaper and skimmed the advert again before throwing it back down.

“Europe,” he said. “Has to be.”

“Most likely.”

Victor Kane folded his arms in thought. He made a decision.

“Okay, we’ll go. Get the limo ready.”

Victor Kane’s wife, Katarina, sat on a sofa in the office, her long legs unapologetically sprawled before her, skimming through a fashion magazine she was not reading. Her eyes flicked up as if to take in the room, then back down again. None of it impressed her.

The oversized sunglasses she had not bothered to take off when she came indoors hid her eyes. Katarina closed her magazine.

“A kingdom,” she said. “Do you have any idea what that means?”

She laughed once, sharp and humourless.

“Yeah,” Victor Kane replied. “Some place in Europe. We’ll fix it up and make it great. A golf course and a resort.”

Katarina closed the magazine and looked at him, not impressed, not amused. She measured him.

“A kingdom is already worth something,” she said.

Victor Kane waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Not like this,” he replied.

Silence settled in the office.

Harris was collecting papers and already making calls in his head before he had even touched a phone.

Katarina watched Victor Kane a second longer, then placed the magazine neatly on a table and left the room. An invitation, she thought, not a purchase. But she did not say anything out loud, as Victor Kane would not understand.

Auction Room

The building was unfamiliar.

The auction room was smaller than it should have been, and there were few people in attendance. That should have been a warning to Victor Kane, but it was not.

“This is an auction for a kingdom?” he said. “I’ve seen car showrooms bigger than this. It’s embarrassing.”

The auctioneer stood at the front of a narrow platform, as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time. There was only one lot that afternoon.

Victor Kane walked in without slowing down and took a seat in the front row, as if he owned the place. Because in his mind, he did.

Harris sat beside him, silent and precise as always.

Katarina stood slightly behind her husband. She had changed into a black dress for the auction and had tied her blonde hair into a precise bun. The black dress suited the room’s expectation of wealth. Her sunglasses stayed on indoors, masking any hint of expression.

“If I were selling a kingdom, I’d make a big show of it. Big screens, music, you know, a global event,” Victor Kane said to Harris.

Her attention drifted across the room. Nobody acknowledged her. Although several shifted slightly, as if being observed and not knowing why. After a moment, she sat.

No one introduced the lot. No catalogue numbers were called. Everything about the room suggested the decision had already been made elsewhere.

The auctioneer spoke.

“Lot One. The kingdom of Ainran. Title, lands and associated obligations.”

Victor Kane barely listened. Obligations sounded like paperwork to him. He had people in the office for that.

“Do we have an opening bid?”

Victor Kane raised his hand straight away.

“Ten million.”

A ripple went through the room, but it was not one of excitement, rather recognition.

At the back of the room, another bidder stepped forward slightly, out of Victor Kane’s field of view.

“Eleven,” said the stranger.

Victor Kane smiled. A game, then.

“Twenty.”

Something in the posture of the other bidder changed. He understood the game.

“Twenty-five.”

The man did not react quickly. That was the first real break in expectation. A small delay, as if the number had not matched what he had been told would happen.

Victor Kane leaned forward in his chair, his interest sharpening.

“Fifty,” he said. After all, he was Victor Kane. He was always a winner.

The other bidder at the back of the room seemed to hesitate, not like a man thinking if he should continue. He looked briefly towards the auctioneer, who did not return his gaze, as if something had gone wrong.

Silence dropped. The other bidder stepped back. Not in acceptance, but retreat. He lowered his gaze and said nothing more.

The auctioneer nodded.

“Sold.”

For a second, his eyes flicked to the back of the room, as if looking for someone to correct what had just happened.

No one did.

After a second, his face reset.

The hammer fell. Victor Kane had bought the kingdom.

“Sold,” the auctioneer said again.

“Of course it’s sold,” said Victor Kane to himself. “Let’s not waste time.”

At the back of the room, there was a commotion surrounding the other bidder, but Victor Kane ignored it and was already at the table, about to sign the contract.

Katarina hesitated and looked towards the back of the room. Something was wrong. She could not identify what it was, only that it had something to do with Victor Kane. She said nothing, then followed her husband to the auction table.

Victor Kane stood at the auction table; the contract was placed before him.

As he looked down, another name had been crossed out. Not erased, but struck through with a pen, as if the change had been made at the last possible moment. The name Victor Kane had been inserted, as if it had always been there.

Victor Kane picked up the pen and signed the contract.

The auctioneer said, “Would you follow me, please?”

It was not a question.

Victor Kane looked around the room, expecting a reaction, a ripple of curiosity, or a polite smile from the staff, the kind of ceremony you get at a high-end auction.

Instead, people were looking away and starting to leave. The auctioneer turned and led Victor Kane to the end of a corridor.

Victor Kane noticed details now that he had not before.

The lighting was older. Warmer. Not consistent with the modern front room.
The walls were stone beneath the paint.
The carpet thinned out into flagstone.

“Is this staff access?” Victor Kane asked, half-joking.

The auctioneer did not look back.

“In a manner of speaking,” he replied.

They passed through a narrow corridor, Victor Kane was certain was not part of the building when he entered. No signage. No doors from the main hall. Just a passage that felt like it had always been there, waiting to be remembered.

At the end of it stood an arch.

Stone. Old. Improperly old. It did not match anything else in the building.

Victor Kane slowed.

The auctioneer stopped just short of it.

For the first time, he turned fully to face Victor Kane.

“You understand what you have acquired?” he asked.

Victor Kane gave a short laugh. “A property, I assume. Some land rights. Heritage classification. That sort of thing.”

The auctioneer studied him for a long moment.

Then he nodded once.

“You will learn the scope in time.”

He stepped aside.

“Step through and take possession of your kingdom.”

Victor Kane looked at it properly now.

The stone was not decorative. There were faint markings worn down by something that was not time so much as repetition.

The air around it felt slightly different. Denser.

“Why would I decline?” Victor Kane said quietly. “I just bought a kingdom. Who declines a kingdom?”

The auctioneer stepped in front of the arch.

“Beyond this arch is the kingdom. Once crossed, the bond is sealed. Return is unlikely.”

Katarina shifted uneasily.

“Unlikely?” she said. “What does that mean?”

Harris cut in quickly, forcing a calm tone. “It is just standard legal language.”

Victor Kane did not take his eyes off the arch.

“If I do not walk through,” he said, “then I do not own it, right?”

“Correct,” replied the auctioneer.

Victor Kane nodded once.

“Then I am crossing.”

“You must understand,” the auctioneer said, “the kingdom is not a passive asset.”

Kane smiled faintly.

“Everything is an asset. Let’s see what I just bought.”

The auctioneer stepped aside.

“Once you pass through,” he said more softly, “there is no obligation to return.”

Victor Kane paused for half a beat.

Then continued.

And vanished from the auction room.