𝓞𝓯𝓯𝓼𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼

The line between greed and caution

Laurenz was never one for sympathy. When you really cane down to it, he was really never a type for anything. Anything but one thing:

Hogging.

And when it came to hogging, the son of Hades only craved one thing. Money.

Funnily enough, he also didn't like to spend it. Despite his blood lying with the underworld, which he still valued, not to be mistaken, he felt like he craved more. Like the foolishly greedy king Midas. However, he was but anything like foolish. In truth, he was smart, his values sat righteousness on his path. For example, if he'd been Midas, he'd have wished for money. Not for raw gold. And, another thing he never would call himself, was greedy. If you were to ask him, he'd have a thousand reasons why he wasn't "greedy". Most prominently, his favorite example was that:"having was better than not having."

And while he was somewhat correct with that assessment, it still felt like an excuse. An excuse he had made up just to flatter himself with not having to face the root of the problem.

But in the end, he was of course well aware, money wouldn't matter to him. He was supposed to become the ruler of the underworld. Death, so he knew, followed him anywhere. It was his birth right. Or, his birth burden. While he was immeasurably proud of what he was, Laurenz couldn't help but wonder if it was truly what he wanted. In all honesty, it wasn't. That he was sure of. But, another thing he was sure of, was that, whether he wanted to or not, he'd end up becoming his father. A copy to the last fiber. It wasn't a fact that saddened him. Not anymore. It was a fact, and facts don't sadden. They inform. History would not halt for him. So why should he bother to try and compete with fate?

Competition, rather, not participating in competitions was something his Father, Hades, had strictly forbidden. That was his lesson to hold. Especially now, that he was going to be sent to Mount Olympus, to live and study under Zeus in the Parthenon, Hades had reminded his son of his devine blood that came with it's set of laws.

"Stop creating competition that doesn't exit."

He had never fancied his fathers words. He was quite the cutthroat person. Of course, his fathers proclamations were important. He never dared to question. But what was he supposed to do else?   Ruling and comanding people had always been his forte. But in the end, what he'd never really cared for was romance. What made it all the stranger, was that he was to kidnap and forcibly make his fathers girlfriends daughter love him. It filled him with disgust and  indisposition. Not just did he have to marry aagainst his will, marrige also always ment sharing his assets. His belongings, his life, his money. If it'd help anything, he was even willing to murder his own father. Being forced into marrige, forced into war. What a coward to send his own son. And a fool for thinking he'd go along. He wasn't some mindless sheep that would run whereever the dogs chased it. He was his own master. He obeyed nobody, but everybody had to obey him.

When he looked at the humans, he understood why their heirs tended to kill their predecessors. It was easy, simple. To understand it wasn't in need of any human knowledge. It was a plainly obvious fact. Just like it was obvious, why money mattered. After all, it's a rich mans world. The rich ruled the world. Money could get you far. It could get people far.

Money is like a sixth sense without which you cannot make a complete use of the other five. Money wasn't the most important thing in life, but it was reasonably close to oxygen on the "gotta have it" scale. And one thing would always stand true: When it is a question of money, everybody is of the same religion. Money was the necessity that frees us from necessity.

To him money was his somewhat human happiness in the abstract: he, then, who was no longer capable of enjoying human happiness in the concrete, devoted his heart entirely to money. It was all he craved. All he needed. He lived on the thrill, the security. He lived and breathed money. It was like a drug to him. He was painfully addicted to greed.

Greed for money, power and fame.
One day would perhaps eat him alive.
But that day wasn't this day nor the next.

Before it was him, who would get eaten by his twisted perception of reality, it would be his father.
It was his right by birth. His calling. In owing of the fact that nobody should ever have the right to decide his future. His destiny was his and only his. And he would make that known soon enough.

With the right allies. With the right situation. With the right strategy.