Chapter 12 : The Lawyer's Answer
The café Adalind chose was the kind of place where lawyers met clients and corporate executives conducted affairs. Exposed brick, reclaimed wood, coffee drinks that cost more than Daniel's hourly consulting rate. Public enough for witnesses, upscale enough to discourage violence.
Smart woman.
I arrived early, selecting a corner table with sightlines to both exits. The sword stayed hidden under my coat. The crossbow was back at the apartment—too bulky for this kind of meeting.
[LOCATION ASSESSMENT: PUBLIC VENUE]
[SURVEILLANCE: MINIMAL]
[THREAT LEVEL: LOW]
[NOTE: ADALIND SCHADE OPERATES WITH CALCULATION, NOT IMPULSE]
She walked in exactly on time. Blonde hair perfectly arranged. Professional attire that probably cost more than my monthly rent. The smile she aimed at the hostess could have sold anything.
The smile she aimed at me had edges.
"Mr. Cross." She slid into the seat across from me, ordering something complicated from the passing server without looking at the menu. "You look better than expected. I heard you had a rough week."
"Word travels fast."
"Word travels to people who listen." She folded her hands on the table—controlled, precise. "Captain Renard was very interested in our hospital conversation. He'd like to know who you are and why you think you can approach his assets."
"Not 'his people.' His assets."
The phrasing told me everything about Adalind's position in Renard's organization. A tool. A resource. Something to be deployed rather than consulted.
"And what did you tell him?"
"That you're either very confident or very stupid. That you approached me with a proposal instead of a threat. That you seem to think the old rules don't apply to you." She accepted her coffee from the server, waiting until we were alone again. "He found that interesting."
"Did he find it interesting enough to send people after me?"
Adalind's mask flickered. "The warehouse wasn't his. Different players. You've attracted attention from multiple directions, Cross. That tends to happen when new Grimms announce themselves by killing Wesen."
"Defending myself against ambush isn't the same as announcing myself."
"To the people who arranged that ambush, the distinction is irrelevant." She sipped her coffee, watching me over the rim. "You wanted to talk. So talk. What exactly are you offering that's worth my time?"
I leaned back. The chair creaked beneath me. A couple at the next table was arguing about vacation plans, their voices a useful cover for our more dangerous conversation.
"You work for Renard. Renard works for the Royals. They've treated you as an asset your entire career—something to be used, discarded, traded when convenient." I kept my voice low, level. "I'm offering something different."
"Such as?"
"Partnership. You have skills I need—potions, political intelligence, connections I can't access. I have capabilities you need—protection from threats a Hexenbiest can't handle alone, a Grimm who won't try to kill you for existing."
"You're describing a transaction, not a partnership."
"All partnerships start as transactions. Trust comes later—if it comes at all." I met her eyes. "I'm not asking you to believe in me. I'm asking you to recognize that your current arrangement will eventually get you killed, and to consider an alternative."
Adalind was quiet for a long moment. Her fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup, the only sign of internal debate.
"What do you know about Captain Renard?"
"Police captain. Zauberbiest. Connected to European powers. Beyond that, I'm working with fragments."
"Then let me fill in some gaps." She leaned forward slightly. "Sean Renard is a Royal bastard—illegitimate son of a European king. He was exiled to Portland as punishment for ambition, but he's been rebuilding his power base for years. The Wesen community here answers to him. The human institutions are compromised. He's playing everyone against each other while positioning himself for something bigger."
[INTEL ACQUIRED: CAPTAIN RENARD PROFILE]
[STATUS: ROYAL BASTARD (EXILED)]
[SPECIES: ZAUBERBIEST (CONFIRMED)]
[THREAT ASSESSMENT: A-RANK (POLITICAL) / A-RANK (COMBAT)]
"And Marie Burkhardt's trailer?"
"The Royals don't care about the weapons. They care about what's hidden inside one of the books—a key. One of seven, supposedly. Together they form a map to something the Royal families have been hunting for centuries."
"A key. Not the Bestiary. Not the weapons. A specific artifact."
The information recontextualized everything. Nick Burkhardt's eventual inheritance wasn't just about monster-hunting equipment. It was about something the most powerful families in the Wesen world wanted badly enough to kill for.
"And the warehouse ambush? The feral Blutbaden who tried to kill me?"
Adalind's expression shifted. Something like respect mixed with caution.
"Viktor Chlodwig zu Schellendorf von Königsberg. Minor Royal, major ambition. He's been testing Portland's defenses for months—probing Renard's territory, identifying threats, eliminating obstacles." She paused. "The ambush was his. He wanted to see what the new Grimm could do."
"And now that he's seen?"
"Now he knows you're dangerous. Which means he'll either try to recruit you or try harder to kill you."
[NEW ANTAGONIST IDENTIFIED: VIKTOR]
[AFFILIATION: ROYAL FAMILY]
[THREAT LEVEL: S-RANK (RESOURCES) / B-RANK (PERSONAL)]
[STATUS: HOSTILE]
I processed the information, fitting it into the puzzle I'd been building since transmigration. Reapers hunting me. A Royal prince testing me. Renard watching from the shadows. Multiple kill lists, multiple agendas, all converging on a Grimm who'd existed for barely a week.
"You're remarkably well-informed for an asset."
Adalind's smile turned sharp. "Assets who aren't informed don't survive. I've made it my business to know what the people using me are actually planning." She set down her coffee cup with a precise click. "Your offer. Protection for information. What does that actually look like?"
"You tell me what's happening in the political currents—Royal movements, Renard's plans, threats I can't see coming. I handle the physical dangers you can't manage alone. We share resources, cover each other's weaknesses, and stay alive longer than either of us would separately."
"And if our interests conflict?"
"Then we negotiate. Like adults. Like people who'd rather talk than fight."
She laughed—genuine amusement, not the practiced charm she'd been projecting. "Do you know how long it's been since anyone offered me negotiation instead of demands?"
"I can guess."
"No." The humor faded, replaced by something rawer. "You can't. You don't know what it's like to be a Hexenbiest. We're monsters to everyone—Grimms hunt us, other Wesen fear us, the Royals use us until we're worn out. Nobody offers us choices. Nobody treats us like people capable of making decisions."
Her woge flickered. The beautiful facade cracked to reveal the corpse-like features beneath. She let me see it—deliberately, I realized. Showing me what she was, waiting for the revulsion.
I didn't flinch. I'd seen worse in the past week.
"I'm offering choices," I said quietly. "When was the last time someone did that for you?"
The woge receded. Adalind studied me for a long moment, and I saw calculations shifting behind her eyes. Risk assessment. Opportunity analysis. The cold logic of someone who'd survived by always knowing the angles.
"Limited cooperation," she finally said. "Information exchange, mutual assistance against common threats. No binding commitments. Either party can withdraw if the arrangement stops serving their interests."
"Acceptable."
"And Cross?" She extended her hand across the table. "If you're playing me—if this is some long con to get close before you strike—I want you to know that Hexenbiests have very creative ways of making enemies suffer."
I took her hand. Her grip was stronger than it looked.
"Understood."
[ALLIANCE ESTABLISHED: ADALIND SCHADE]
[RELATIONSHIP: TRANSACTIONAL (+20)]
[STATUS: LIMITED COOPERATION]
[BENEFITS: INTELLIGENCE ACCESS, POLITICAL INSIGHT, POTION RESOURCES]
We released the handshake. Adalind gathered her things, preparing to leave.
"One more thing." She paused at the table's edge. "The Reapers who contacted you. They're more dangerous than you know. Viktor might kill you for convenience. The Reapers will kill you for principle."
"I'm aware."
"Are you aware that they've already sent scouts? Two of them arrived in Portland yesterday. They're watching you, Cross. Learning your patterns before they make their move."
Ice settled in my stomach. Twenty-seven days, and they weren't waiting. They were preparing.
"Thank you for the warning."
"Thank yourself if you survive it." She offered a final smile—smaller, more genuine than anything before. "This is either the smartest thing I've ever done or the stupidest."
I matched her expression. "Why not both?"
She laughed again, shaking her head, and walked out of the café. I watched her go, already calculating next moves.
Reaper scouts in Portland. Viktor's attention focused on me. Renard watching from the shadows. And now an alliance with a Hexenbiest who might betray me the moment it served her interests.
The game was getting more complicated.
I finished my coffee, left money on the table, and headed for the door. Twenty-seven days remained. Training to continue. Threats to neutralize. Allies to solidify.
The Reapers thought they were hunting prey.
Time to prove them wrong.
MORE POWER STONES And REVIEWS== MORE CHAPTERS
To supporting Me in Pateron .
with exclusive access to more chapters (based on tiers more chapters for each tiers) on my Patreon, you get more chapters if you ask for more (in few days), plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $6/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [ In The Witcher With Avatar Powers,In The Vikings With Deja Vu System,Stranger Things Demogorgon Tamer ...].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!