"You sound like me twenty years ago. Same arrogance. Same conviction that intelligence can solve any problem." He turned to face his son. "Some advice, since you're clearly committed to this path – the Church will move against you. Subtly at first, then overtly if you persist. You'll need allies."
"I have allies."
"The exhausted Saintess and hired Mercenaries? Those aren't allies, they're complications." The Duke returned to his desk. "I'm offering support. House Valcrest's resources, intelligence network, political leverage. In exchange, you coordinate with me instead of running off independently."
It was a genuine offer. His father recognizing him as adult player rather than controlled heir.
Also a trap – accepting meant surrendering independence, operating within his father's framework.
"What's your interest?" Damien asked carefully. "Why support this?"
"Because you're succeeding." Cornelius said it simply. "I've watched you these past weeks. The way you've been consolidating southern territories, building personal loyalty, demonstrating capabilities I didn't know you possessed. You're becoming someone who matters. That benefits House Valcrest."
[RELATIONSHIP UPDATE: Duke Cornelius Valcrest]
[Status: Controlling Father → Calculating Ally]
[Warning: Alliance comes with strings attached]
"I'll coordinate," Damien agreed. "But I maintain operational independence. You get information and influence. I get support without micromanagement."
"Acceptable." Cornelius extended his hand across the desk. "Welcome to the real game, son. Try not to die stupidly."
They shook. The gesture felt significant – an acknowledgment of changed relationship dynamics.
"The demon attacks," Damien said. "They're organized. Targeted. That's concerning."
"Very." The Duke pulled out a map marked with red indicators. "Seven incidents in three weeks. All in strategic locations – trade routes, investigation sites, border territories. Someone's coordinating them."
"Someone in the capital?"
"Possibly. Or something using intelligence we don't understand." Cornelius traced the attack patterns. "The Church thinks it's random demonic incursion. I think it's deliberate destabilization. If I'm right, this is the beginning of something larger."
Damien studied the map, his enhanced perception noting patterns. The attacks formed a rough semicircle around the capital, slowly tightening.
Like a noose.
"They're testing defenses," he realized aloud. "Each attack probes different response capabilities. Military, Church, noble houses. Gathering information for a larger assault."
"That's my assessment as well." Cornelius looked grim. "Which means the capital will be hit eventually. We should prepare."
"Has anyone else reached this conclusion?"
"The Church is focused on reactive defense. The military is political and slow. Most nobles are idiots who can't see past next week's profits." The Duke smiled coldly. "Which gives us advantage if we prepare properly."
This was the Cornelius Valcrest Damien recognized – the man who turned crisis into opportunity, who planned three moves ahead while others scrambled to understand current positions.
"I'll need resources," Damien said. "Mercenaries, weapons, intelligence on demon capabilities."
"You'll have them. In exchange, you share everything you learn about demonic forces. Your shadow magic apparently works against them – I want to understand why."
Fair trade. His father would dig into the magic's nature, but the eastern provinces cover story should hold under investigation.
Unless Cornelius found something that contradicted it.
[WARNING: Cover story under potential investigation]
[Demonic Core signature may be detectable by skilled analysts]
[Recommendation: Limit power usage near investigative mages]
The System's warning was timely. He'd need to be careful about when and where he deployed demonic abilities.
"Agreed," Damien said. "Anything else?"
"Yes. The Saintess." Cornelius's expression was unreadable. "You're serious about her?"
"Yes."
"Not just political maneuvering?"
"It started that way." Damien chose honesty. "It's become more complicated."
"Complications are dangerous in politics."
"I know."
"But you're pursuing it anyway." The Duke studied his son. "You're aware this will make enemies? The Church, conservative nobles, probably half the kingdom's young men who fantasize about the pure Saintess?"
"I'm aware."
Cornelius was quiet for a moment. "Your mother would have liked her. The Saintess. She had similar quality – seeing people rather than positions, caring about individual wellbeing over political advantage."
It was the most personal thing his father had said in years.
"I remember," Damien said quietly.
"Then don't waste the opportunity. If you genuinely care about this woman, protect her properly. Not with dramatic demon-slaying heroics – with careful planning and overwhelming preparation." The Duke's voice hardened. "Because the moment her usefulness to the Church diminishes, or her reputation becomes too compromised, they'll discard her. That's how institutions work."
"I won't let that happen."
"Good. Now get cleaned up. You look like you've been riding through demon territory for a week."
"Technically I have been."
"Smartass." But Cornelius was almost smiling. "Dismissed. We'll meet tomorrow to discuss detailed preparations."
Damien stood to leave, then paused. "Father? Thank you. For the support."
"Don't thank me yet. You might regret this alliance." The Duke returned to his documents. "Close the door on your way out."
---
Damien's quarters felt strange after a week away – too clean, too comfortable, too safe compared to demon-infested ruins and camp bedrolls.
He stripped off his travel-stained clothes and stood before his mirror, studying his reflection.
Physically, he looked the same. But something in his eyes had changed – a hardness that hadn't been there before. The demonic core's influence was subtle but present.
[CORRUPTION PROGRESS: 4.8%]
He'd killed thirty-six demons. Saved lives. Protected Elara. All objectively good actions.
And the corruption had increased anyway, because the power's source didn't care about intentions.
A soft knock interrupted his brooding.
"Young master? There's a Church messenger at the door. High Priest Aldous requests your presence tomorrow morning for 'informal discussion.'" Margaret's voice carried warning. "That's Church code for interrogation."
"Of course it is." Damien sighed. "Tell them I'll attend."
"Be careful. Aldous is clever and ambitious. He'll try to trap you."
"I know. I'll manage."
After Margaret left, Damien spent the evening preparing. He reviewed his cover story, identified potential weak points, planned responses to probable questions.
The Church would push hard. They saw him as threat to their control over Elara, and they weren't wrong.
But they'd underestimated him before. He'd use that assumption.
As night fell, he noticed a sealed letter on his desk that hadn't been there earlier. No markings, delivered by unknown means.
Inside, elegant script:
"Meet me at the eastern garden wall. Midnight. Come alone. -E"
Elara. Requesting a secret meeting despite exhaustion and certain Church surveillance.
Either brave or foolish. Probably both.
Damien smiled despite the risk. She was becoming bolder, more willing to bend rules that had controlled her entire life.
His influence showing results.
[QUEST AVAILABLE: Midnight Meeting]
[Risk Level: Moderate]
[Potential Rewards: Significant intimacy increase, private conversation]
[Warning: Discovery would damage both reputations]
He accepted without hesitation.