The heavy doors of the Edger mansion swung shut with a resounding thud, cutting off the rhythmic chanting of a thousand soldiers. Outside, the world was a storm of steel and dust, a sea of men ready to burn provinces to the ground in the name of revenge. Inside, the silence was so sudden it felt like a physical weight.
Eon leaned heavily against the wall of the foyer. Every shallow breath he took felt like a jagged piece of glass was scraping against his lungs. His vision blurred for a moment, the golden wallpaper of the hallway swimming before his eyes.
"Master Eon," Hans whispered, stepping forward to offer a shoulder.
Eon waved him off with a trembling hand. "Not yet, Hans. I need to be standing for this."
He looked up. Alaric Denares was standing ten feet away, near the center of the hall. The Lord of House Denares looked weary, his clothes stained with the dirt of the cellar he was in till now, but the transformation from a mindless puppet back to a noble was complete. His back was straight, and his eyes, once glassy and distant under the influence of the collar around his neck, were now sharp and piercing.
Alaric didn't look like a prisoner. He looked like the real master of the house.
Behind Alaric stood Elora. She looked between the two men, her hands clenched at her sides. Elsa and Verra were close to Eon, their hands never straying far from the hilts of the daggers they had tucked into their belts. The tension in the room was like a bowstring stretched to the point of snapping.
"We should talk in the study," Alaric said. It wasn't a suggestion; it was an invitation issued with the weight of his rank now.
Eon nodded slowly. He pushed himself off the wall, gritting his teeth as his ribs shifted. "Lead the way."
They moved into the large, sun-drenched study on the first floor. It was a room filled with the scent of old paper and leather-bound books. Alaric took a seat in the large armchair behind the desk, a natural move for a man born to rule. Eon sat opposite him, while the others remained standing, forming a loose semi-circle of protection around their leader.
Alaric leaned back, crossing his legs. He spent a long moment simply looking at Eon.
"You've caused quite a lot of trouble, Elf," Alaric said. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "My brother is dead. My army is camping on your lawn. And I have a collar around my neck binding my soul, that prevents me from even thinking about snapping your neck."
"It was a necessary precaution, isn't it?" Eon replied, his voice raspy. "Your brother tried to kill us. You tried to enslave us. I simply changed the terms of our relationship."
Alaric let out a short, dry laugh. "Changed the terms. That's a polite way of saying you turned a High Noble into a tool. But let's be honest with each other, Eon. We are past the point of petty grudges. My speech outside wasn't just for the soldiers. It was for you, too."
Eon narrowed his eyes. "Explain."
"I consider myself as an intelligent man," Alaric said, tapping his temple. "Even through the fog of whatever this collar's magic is doing to me, I could see the shape of your plan. You want independence for your people, don't you? You want a world where Elves aren't traded like cattle. It's a ridiculous, i'll say. An impossible dream, but you've managed to get further than anyone else in the last ten years."
He leaned forward, his gaze hardening. "But you cannot do it alone. If I didn'y help you out there, or if I told Valen the truth, you and every elf in this house would be dead within five minutes. You need me. And I am the only shield you have against the Duke, the King, and the rest of the nobility. I am the face of your rebellion."
"So you're saying you'll help us?" Verra asked, her voice skeptical.
Alaric looked at her, then back to Eon. "I'm saying I have no choice. The collar ensures I can't act with hostility toward Eon. But more than that, I am a Denares. I refuse to let my House fall into ruin because of a pack of greedy mercenaries and shadow mages. If I play my part, I keep my life and my title. If I don't, everything I've ever known burns. So, I will not be hostile. From this moment on, I will be your partner... however much it tastes like ash in my mouth."
Eon sat in silence for a moment. He was trying to figure out if the status of the Soul Binding Collar. It was active and stable. Alaric was telling the truth,at least he was not scheming against him. Still, having Alaric's cooperation, even if forced, was better than constant mental warfare.
"Good," Eon said. "But partnership implies terms. I don't just need a shield, Alaric. I need control."
"Control?" Alaric raised an eyebrow.
"Your soldiers," Eon said, gesturing toward the window. "A thousand men, including the Diablo Unit. They follow you. If they stay here, they need to be useful. I need to be able to command them through you."
Alaric tilted his head. "You want to lead my army? An Elf leading the most elite unit of House Denares?"
"Not directly," Eon corrected. "You will give the orders. But the orders will come from me. We need to secure this area. We need to prepare for the inevitable arrival of the Duke's men. And we need to begin the hunt for those who attacked us."
Alaric looked like he wanted to argue, but the collar gave a slight, warning hum in the back of his mind. He winced, then relaxed. "Fine. But understand this: Valen isn't an idiot. If the orders I give don't make sense from a military standpoint, he will start asking questions. You provide the goals; I will provide the tactics."
Elora stepped forward then, her hand resting on the back of Eon's chair. "And there's more, Alaric."
Alaric turned his attention to his sister. His expression softened slightly, but it was still guarded. "Elora. I was wondering when you'd join the conversation."
"You're going to stay here," Elora said. Her voice was steady, lacking the tremor of fear that had defined her for years. "In this house. You won't be returning to the Denares estate for a while."
Alaric frowned. "House arrest? In a Count's mansion? Elora, I have duties. I have a House to manage."
"The house is currently managed by our butler," Elora countered. "You are 'recovering' from the trauma of your brother's death. That is the story you will tell Valen. If you leave now, you risk being pulled into the Duke's court, where they will see right through you. Here, at least we might figure out something if they suspect anything... plus we can keep an eye on you."
Alaric stared at her. He looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. The sister he remembered was a doll. She was a pretty thing to be married off for an alliance, someone who cried when the wind blew too hard and hid behind her brothers. But the woman standing before him now had fire in her eyes. She was standing beside an Elf, defending him, and dictating terms to the head of her House.
"You've changed, Elora," Alaric murmured.
"I had to," she replied. "The world you and Darius built didn't have room for me to be anything else. Eon gave me a choice. I'm choosing to stand here."
Alaric's gaze moved to Eon. He saw the way Elora's hand lingered near Eon's shoulder, the way she leaned toward him. She wasn't a hostage anymore. She was an ally. And more than that, she looked... Happy?! Even in the middle of a war zone, she looked more alive than she ever had in their Fancy palace.
A small, strange feeling flickered in Alaric's chest. It wasn't quite jealousy, and it wasn't quite anger. It was a realization that the old world was truly dead.
"She's right, you know," Elsa added, her voice cold as ice. "You stay where we can see you. You give the orders Eon tells you to give. You act as our noble face, and in exchange, we keep your secret and hopefully don't turn on the mana turmoil ring. We won't tell the world that the great Alaric Denares is a puppet."
Eon watched Alaric carefully. He was thinking that he had the upper hand. He had the collar, he had Elora's loyalty, and he had the soldiers believing a lie. In his mind, he was winning the negotiation. He was thinking of how he could use Alaric to funnel resources to the elves, how he could use the Diablo Unit to clear out local slave traders. He felt powerful.
He knew everything was going too smoothly to his advantage, But he didn't notice the subtle gleam in Alaric's eyes.
Alaric was a master of the court. He had spent his entire life playing games where a single word could lead to an execution. He could see that Eon was brilliant, yes, but Eon was also young in the world of politics and negotiation. Eon thought in terms of immediate survival and logic. He didn't see the long game.
Alaric knew that by staying here, he was actually safer than he would be at home. By letting Eon command the soldiers, he was letting Eon take the risk of any tactical failures. He was letting Eon build the foundation of a power base that Alaric could eventually co-opt if the collar ever broke. He was going easy on the boy because the boy's goals currently served his own.
"Very well," Alaric said, letting out a sigh that sounded more defeated than he actually felt. "House arrest it is. I will stay in the guest wing. Valen will report to me every morning at dawn. Any requests you have for the army must be brought to me at least an hour before that. I won't have my captain seeing me take orders from an elf slave in real-time."
"I am not a slave," Eon said firmly.
"To the world, you are," Alaric shot back. "And we must keep it that way if you want to keep your head. Now, if we are done with this... negotiation... I would like some wine. And a bath. I smell like a commoner."
Eon stood up, his body screaming at the movement. "Hans will show you to your quarters. Verra will ensure you have what you need. But don't forget, Alaric... the collar is always on you."
Alaric didn't look bothered. He stood up and straightened his tunic. As he walked toward the door, he stopped beside Elora. He looked at her for a long second, then leaned in to whisper.
"He's an interesting one, Elora. I can see why you like him. Just make sure his ambition doesn't swallow you whole."
Elora didn't flinch. "I can handle myself, brother."
Alaric smiled. It wasn't a kind smile. It was a thin, sharp expression that didn't reach his eyes. It was the smile of a predator who had found a new, fascinating kind of prey.
As Alaric followed Hans out of the room, a chill settled over the remaining group.
"That went better than I thought," Liam said, finally letting out a breath he had been holding. "He actually agreed."
"He agreed too easily," Elsa muttered, her eyes fixed on the door. "Did you see that smile at the end? It gave me the creeps. Ughh. "
Verra nodded in agreement. "He's a snake. We've traded a wolf for a snake. He's planning something, Eon."
Eon sank back into his chair, the adrenaline leaving him and the pain returning in full force. He looked at his hands, which were stained with the blood he had coughed up earlier.
"I know he is," Eon whispered. "But for now, he's a snake in a cage. We just have to make sure the cage stays locked."
Outside, the first of the tents were being pitched in the fields. The Diablo Unit was settling in. The Edger mansion was no longer just a house of survivors; it was a fortress.
Eon closed his eyes, his mind already spinning forward to the next day. They had an army. They had a Lord. And they had a revenge to take.
But as he drifted toward a pained sleep, the image of Alaric's final smile burned in his mind. He had thought he was the one holding the leash, but for the first time, Eon wondered if he was the one being led.
The bargain was struck. The price, however, was yet to be paid.
Author note: Did Eon got duped here? Who knows. Let's see what happens next.