Paragon of Destruction

Both Arran and Lord Sevaril were quiet during the carriage ride back to the castle, Arran still thinking over the events of the day, and Lord Sevaril engrossed in his own thoughts.

Now that he thought he understood the true purpose of Panurge’s food, Arran was convinced he had been on the losing end of the deal. He had sold Lord Sevaril what amounted to an army of Body Refiners at a price of less than a quarter Essence Crystal per soldier, and although Arran had little idea of the value of soldiers, he suspected it lay far above what he had received.

But then, Arran had no use for an army — he had neither soldiers to train nor lands to conquer, and the thought of leading a band of brigands or mercenaries did not appeal to him in the slightest. His only goal was to increase his own strength, and for that, the Essence Crystals were infinitely more valuable than the food had been.

And when he considered the matter, he was certain that even if his treasures were worth a higher price, there were few places where he would have been able to sell them. Within the Empire, it would surely have drawn the Academy’s attention, and on this side of the border, he knew no one other than Lord Sevaril who had both the means and the desire to raise an army.

The more he thought about it, the more satisfied he became with the outcome of the deal. Perhaps things hadn’t exactly gone according to plan, but the result was still a good one.

When they reached the castle and entered the keep, Lord Sevaril finally spoke again. From his expression, it seemed as if he had sniffed out an opportunity and was intent on fully seizing it.

"This friend of yours," Lord Sevaril said. "The one who gave you the treasures. Who is he?"

The question was unwelcome, but not unexpected. Arran knew that Lord Sevaril would want to know more about his mysterious backer, and he had already prepared answers.

"He carries many names," Arran said with a forced chuckle. "But what I can tell you is that he has interests on both sides of the border, and that he is looking to secure new allies."

"Allies?" Lord Sevaril replied, his interest obvious. "Then he has ambitions in this region?"

"His ambitions stretch far beyond the region," Arran replied. "But he has the power to match them."

"That much is clear," Lord Sevaril answered with a thoughtful nod. "The truth is that I have been looking for allies, as well. I built this city from nothing, and for centuries, I have kept it safe. But the region has grown restless in recent years, and it’s a matter of time before the unrest spreads to Goldhaven."

"Is that the reason for your help in curing the Sixth Valley’s Patriarch?" Arran asked. He was hoping to shift the conversation away from his lies, but he also found himself curious about the motivations of the man in front of him.

"It is," Lord Sevaril replied flatly. "Until his sickness, the Patriarch was one of the few allies I had in the region. When he fell ill, it was a great loss."

"The other factions haven’t approached you?" Arran was surprised that Lord Sevaril was willing to discuss the situation so openly, but he would not pass up the opportunity to learn more.

"They have, of course," Lord Sevaril said. "But tying my fate to any of them would risk making me an enemy to the others. It would be much better if the Patriarch made a recovery."

Then, suddenly, his expression changed, as if he had just realized something important.

"Did your friend tell you to join Snowcloud?" Lord Sevaril asked, an intent look in his eyes.

"He did," Arran lied. "Though he did not tell me the reason." Whatever theory the man was conjuring up, he thought it best to play along.

Lord Sevaril smiled at this, a look of smug understanding in his eyes. "It seems the interests of your friend and myself are aligned. He must have sent you to keep her safe on her mission."

Arran feigned a thoughtful expression. "I suspect you may be right," he said, attempting to look as if he had just realized the same thing.

"I would very much like to meet this friend of yours," the white-haired man said. "Perhaps you could arrange for that to happen?"

"I would be glad to do so," Arran replied. "But I don’t know when I will see him again. It might be months or even years. And I don’t expect him to approach me again before I have completed my current task."

"Of course," Lord Sevaril said dismissively. "A few years hardly makes a difference. But what if some misfortune befalls you on your travels?"

Arran shrugged. "I’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen."

Whatever happened, he intended to be long gone when Lord Sevaril finally discovered the truth. If the man worried that Arran’s death might interfere with his hoped-for alliance with Arran’s imaginary backer, all the better — perhaps it would encourage him to provide some additional aid.

Lord Sevaril did not seem entirely pleased with the answer, but after a moment, he nodded. It seemed he understood that there was little point in pointing out that Arran’s death would be inconvenient to him.

With a slight frown, he asked, "Does the girl know about any of this?"

Arran shook his head. "She thinks I’m just a recruit. I would be thankful if you kept my secret."

"Of course," the man replied, giving Arran a knowing smile. "But we have reached my treasury. Let’s see if I can help ensure your safe return."

They had passed through the keep and climbed most of the stairs up the tower while talking. Now, they were on what should be one of the uppermost floors of the tower, and they stood in a large hallway at the end of which was a massive steel door — the entrance to Lord Sevaril’s treasury, presumably.

Arran breathed a secret sigh of relief when he understood the conversation was at an end. Although he had prepared his story as well as he could, he had not expected to get caught up in so elaborate a web of lies.

But that was of later concern. Now, Arran would pick one of Lord Sevaril’s treasures, and after that, he would retire to his room to spend some days in training. By then, Snowcloud should have finished going through the ingredients, and she would doubtless want to depart right away to retrieve the few remaining ones.

With a bit of luck, Arran thought, he would be able to avoid any more discussions with Lord Sevaril, and that would be the end of it.

As Lord Sevaril opened the door to the treasury, Arran could not help but feel a sense of pride in his handling of the situation. He had narrowly staved off a disaster, and in the process, he had secured enough resources to aid his training for many months to come.

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