Rise of a Finance Minister

Robert Maxwell, a former CEO of a global accounting firm, Nobel Prize-winning economist, and trusted economic consultant to governments worldwide lay dying.

As the CEO of PricewaterhouseCoopers revolutionized the accounting and consulting industries. Under his leadership, PwC expanded its global reach, established cutting-edge financial technologies, and became a trusted advisor to governments, corporations, and institutions around the world. He was known for his meticulous attention to detail and his ability to see the big picture simultaneously. His colleagues often remarked that he could analyze a balance sheet with unparalleled precision while also predicting global economic trends years in advance.

Robert was not content with maintaining the status quo. When he took the helm at PwC, he envisioned a firm that would go beyond mere number-crunching and auditing. He redefined the company's mission, focusing on innovation, ethical practices, and creating solutions that addressed the world's most pressing economic challenges. He spearheaded PwC's expansion into emerging markets in Africa, Asia, and Latin America. By establishing partnerships with local firms, PwC became a trusted name in regions previously overlooked by global consultancies.

Yet even someone as accomplished as Robert could not escape the inevitable passage of time. He was dying of old age, his once-sharp mind and vigorous body succumbing to nature's unyielding march.

Despite his declining health, Robert was at peace. He had lived a full life, using his immense wealth not as a hoard to be guarded, but as a tool to uplift others. Among his peers—many of whom spent their fortunes on yachts, art, and other vanities—Robert stood apart as the world's most philanthropic billionaire.

He had directed his resources toward education, and health initiatives, investing in human capital. To his friends, his altruism seemed laughable, naive idealism unworthy of a man with such power. Yet Robert dismissed their cynicism. In his heart, he believed that wealth hoarded was wealth wasted. True fulfillment came from using prosperity to uplift others.

As he lay on his deathbed, surrounded by his children and grandchildren, Robert felt no regret. His legacy was not the towering skyscrapers he financed or the awards that filled his shelves—it was the lives he had touched. He smiled, his breaths growing shallower. As his eyes closed for the last time, he felt no pain, only an enveloping, serene quiet. With a final smile, Robert embraced the unknown, eager to see what lay beyond.

When Robert opened his eyes again, the ceiling above him was unfamiliar. Confusion gripped him as he noticed his hands—they were small, soft, childlike. He tried to sit up, but his limbs felt weak, uncoordinated. The room was warm, filled with the soothing hum of voices, and the faint scent of lavender hung in the air.

"Wait… where am I?" he thought. His voice came out in his mind, but he couldn't yet form the words aloud.

A gentle figure leaned over him, lifting him from his cradle. The woman held him close, her warmth and scent instinctively comforting. "My lady, you have a beautiful son," another voice said. He was passed to someone else, and this second embrace felt even more reassuring. Robert felt a surge of belonging, a deep connection to the woman holding him. "Could this be my new mother?" he wondered.

"Hm, who would have thought? I died… and now I've been reincarnated," Robert thought to himself, both amazed and bewildered.

"What shall we name him, my dear?" the woman asked, her voice soft and melodic. Robert looked up at her, noting her radiant auburn hair and kind eyes. A man nearby, tall and imposing, responded, "Let's name him William, after your grandfather."

The moment the name was spoken, Robert felt a strange pulse of energy. A screen blinked into his vision, its contents startling him:

Name: William vont Ballard

Race: Human

Rank: 2 (Baron)

Class:

Attributes:

Constitution—5

Strength—9

Dexterity—11

Intellect—15

Charisma—12

Rank Skills: Management (20), Diplomacy (20), Accounting (40)

Class Skills: None (Skill Points Available = 0)

Abilities: None (Ability Points Available = 0)

"So, I've been reborn as a noble!" Robert—or rather, William—thought, relief washing over him. Yet, the strange statistics puzzled him. What were "Rank Skills," "Class Skills," and "Abilities"? He resolved to learn about this strange new world as quickly as possible.

Life as a baby was surreal. While William's body was new, his mind retained all the knowledge and experience of his former life. He learned to crawl and walk earlier than most children and rarely cried, much to the amazement of his mother, Helen. The family maid, April, noticed peculiarities in the boy's behavior. "My lady, I think the baby understands us," she once remarked uneasily after catching William listening intently to conversations.

From the very beginning, William's life in Terra was unlike that of any other child. Though his body was weak and uncoordinated, his mind was sharp, carrying the memories of his previous life. He was acutely aware of his surroundings, observing everything from the warmth of his mother's embrace to the soothing cadence of her lullabies.

William rarely cried, much to the amazement of his parents and the staff. He instinctively understood that crying served little purpose beyond exhausting himself and worrying his caregivers. Instead, he listened. Every sound, every word spoken around him was a puzzle piece he carefully collected and stored away.

By the end of his first year, William surprised his parents by mimicking simple words like "mama," "papa," and "book." Helen, his mother, was delighted, often boasting to the staff about her "brilliant little Will." James, his father, laughed it off, chalking it up to parental bias. But William's ability to form rudimentary sentences before other children his age was no accident, it was a glimpse of the genius hidden beneath his small frame.

At two years old, William's physical coordination improved significantly. He walked confidently, often exploring the manor's long corridors and cluttered rooms. Helen and April, his maid, had to keep a close eye on him, fearing he might wander too far. Yet, William was careful. He never ventured into areas that seemed unstable or dangerous, a caution born of his adult mind.

By the time he was three, William's intellect was undeniable. He spoke fluently, much like an older child, and exhibited an astonishing ability to count and comprehend numbers. His favorite pastime was playing with coins. April often gave him a few coppers, only to laugh as he hid them away like treasures. To Helen and April, his fascination with money was endearing, though they had no idea

"He's going to be a frugal knight, milady", April joked to Baroness. But for William, the coins represented far more: a symbol of economic power and a resource he planned to master.

For his third birthday, when asked what he wanted, William boldly requested books. His parents were both amused and astounded. "He's too young to read," they whispered, but they indulged his request, nonetheless. What they didn't know was that William had already been sneaking into the manor's library. April, assuming he was just playing, had scolded him for "damaging" the expensive books, unaware that he was actually reading them.

William devoured volumes on history, geography, politics, and economics, piecing together a clear picture of his new world. Terra, a medieval realm governed by swords and sorcery, was vastly different from Earth. The Kingdom of Fermion, his home, lay at the heart of this world. Its society was feudal, with nobles wielding power over vast stretches of land. While the climate was temperate, regional variations mirrored Earth's geography. The calendar, too, differed slightly—Terra's year consisted of 12 months, and 372 days.

Through books and conversations, he pieced together the structure of Fermion's society. He learned that his family, the vont Ballards, were part of the Kingdom of Fermion's noble structure. His father, James vont Ballard, was a Baron, a rank considered minor among the aristocracy. While the title carried prestige, the reality was far less glamorous.

The barony lay on the western fringe of the kingdom, a rural and neglected region. It was clear to William that his family was poor, their lands barely produced enough to sustain them. The manor, once a grand estate, was now a crumbling relic, its walls chipped, tapestries torn, and roofs leaking.

Despite these hardships, William felt a genuine affection for his family. His mother, Helen, was warm and nurturing, while his father, James, was jovial and kind, though frustratingly lax in governing. His siblings were equally endearing, each with their own quirks.

His eldest brother, Jason, at thirteen, was training to become a knight at the academy. Jason's kindness and natural leadership earned him the respect of the household. Kathryn, his eldest sister, at ten, was a striking beauty nicknamed "Fairy Kate" for her pale skin and graceful demeanor. Suitors already vied for her attention, much to Helen's delight.

Marcus, William's second brother, at seven, was the family's wild card. Obsessed with combat, Marcus spent his days swinging wooden swords and pestering William to spar. "Why do you waste time reading?" Marcus would sneer, though his teasing was harmless.

Then there was Rebecca, William's closest sibling in age at five. Rebecca was a whirlwind of energy and emotion, fiercely protective of her youngest brother. She insisted on reading to him, even though William could already read far beyond her ability. Her favorite pastime was making him sit on her lap as she read aloud, ignoring his protests. William often thought of her as both his greatest annoyance and his closest ally.

The family's distinctive silver hair and green eyes marked them as true Ballards, a legacy passed down for generations. While James stood tall and broad, with a commanding presence, Helen's smaller frame belied her inner strength. Together, they instilled in their children a sense of duty, though William couldn't help but notice the cracks in their governance.

A trip into the nearby town with his father revealed the extent of the barony's decline. The village, nestled within the prairie, was dilapidated. Houses leaned precariously, streets were muddy and narrow, and sanitation was nonexistent. Worse still, the farmlands were underutilized, with vast stretches lying fallow. The town's primary exports—wheat, barley, and chickens—barely sufficed to sustain its economy. Cows were a rarity, and the family's oxen were prized possessions.

Despite the decay, the townsfolk welcomed James with respect and gratitude. William marveled at their loyalty, even as he internally criticized his father's complacency. "Greetings, I am William vont Ballard," he would say to each villager he met. The townspeople clapped and cooed over his manners, their warmth a stark contrast to the village's grim state.

William promised himself that one day he would turn this barony around. The people deserved better, and he had the knowledge and determination to make it happen.

Upon their return to the manor, James sat William down for a serious conversation. "Listen, Will," he began, his tone unusually somber. "You have to be successful in this life. As my third son, you'll have to make your own way when you come of age."

William stared at his father, barely suppressing a laugh. If only James knew about his past life and the billions he had once commanded. But here, in Terra, he was just a third son with no inheritance.

"Yes, Papa," William replied, using the title his father preferred. He learned that in Terra, adulthood began at thirteen. In just ten years, he would be expected to leave the manor and fend for himself.

The realization hit hard. William's situation was starkly different from the life of privilege he once knew. He had left vast fortunes to his children and grandchildren on Earth, yet here he wouldn't inherit a single coin. "That's harsh," he thought, though he remained outwardly calm. If nothing else, the challenge would drive him to greatness.

Over the next months, William devoted himself to learning all he could about the barony's strengths and weaknesses. He studied its geography, noting its proximity to a major river and vast plains ripe for agriculture. While the barony lacked industry, he saw potential for growth in trade and production. The river, though often spoken of as a dangerous boundary, also represented an untapped resource for commerce.

William spent countless hours in the library, poring over books on governance, economics, and agriculture. He made mental notes on irrigation techniques, crop rotation, and trade policies. Every piece of knowledge he acquired felt like a step closer to his ultimate goal: transforming the barony into a prosperous, thriving region.