Kharzan Goldcrest rode at the front, his imposing figure enhanced by the golden light as he led his men.
Behind him, in perfect formation, advanced one hundred elite warriors. Each was a Silver 2 level tamer or higher, their beasts partially manifested creating an intimidating spectacle of power. Scales, claws, horns, and wings merged with their bearers in a display meticulously planned to inspire fear.
At the academy gates, a smaller but no less impressive group awaited their arrival. Julius, Selphira, Victor, Arturo, Ignatius and Sirius stood in the front line, backed by several dozen warriors from their respective factions.
Kharzan absorbed his lion mount mere meters from the gate, silently evaluating his opponents. His eyes, the color of pure amber, swept over each face with deliberate slowness.
“Selphira,” he finally pronounced, inclining his head slightly in a gesture that seemed more mockery than respect. “It’s been some time since our last encounter.”
“Kharzan,” she responded with a perfectly controlled voice. “I see you still confuse quantity with quality.”
A tense smile appeared on the Goldcrest patriarch’s face. “And you still confuse custom with power.”
Victor stepped forward. His normally composed features hardened as he spoke. “Enough false courtesies. Your son used abyssal energy. That violates every acceptable level of conduct.”
“Serious accusations, and ridiculous ones,” Kharzan responded with apparent calm, though a dangerous gleam flickered in his eyes. “Where are my sons?”
“Under observation,” Sirius intervened, his voice devoid of inflection. “Where they cannot cause harm while we determine their degree of contamination.”
Kharzan’s eyes narrowed dangerously. The golden patterns beneath his skin intensified, spreading further across his visible flesh. “My sons are not ‘contaminated’. I demand their immediate release.”
“Your son,” Selphira stepped forward, her presence suddenly seeming to expand, “administered a potion with abyssal energy to his brother. That was the statement from your other son… A Goldcrest. Do you deny these facts?”
A tense silence descended over the group. The air itself seemed to grow heavier, charged with the potential for violence.
The warriors on both sides tensed, their beasts manifesting more prominently in anticipation.
“I propose,” Kharzan finally said, his voice deceptively soft, “that we continue this discussion in a more… private environment.” His gaze swept over the soldiers present. “Unless you prefer to resolve this misunderstanding in another way.”
The implicit threat hung in the air like a storm cloud, dark and ominous.
“Of course,” Julius agreed, recovering his diplomatic composure upon seeing that the Goldcrest leader was ‘kindly’ relinquishing his numerical advantage. “The academy has prepared a hall for negotiations.”
“Negotiations,” Kharzan repeated, a leonine smile forming on his lips. “Interesting word.”
He gestured to his men, who remained in formation as he advanced alone toward the gate. Despite appearing to come unarmed into enemy territory, his confidence never wavered.
“After you,” he indicated with false courtesy, sweeping his arm in an exaggerated gesture.
As the group headed inside, Victor exchanged a significant look with Arturo. Both Dravenholm brothers discreetly positioned themselves on the sides, forming a barely perceptible defensive triangle.
Selphira walked with the calm grace of one who fears no confrontation, while Sirius and Ignatius closed the march, their eyes never leaving Kharzan’s figure.
The academy doors closed behind them, leaving the warriors of both sides in a tense state of waiting. The sunset painted everything in blood-red hues.
♢♢♢♢
The academy’s negotiation hall that Ignatius had prepared was a circular room with a chair in the center that resembled an interrogation setting more than a diplomatic venue. Ancient tapestries decorated the walls, showing scenes of the city’s foundation and the construction of the first cultivation school.
Kharzan Goldcrest settled into the central chair without waiting for an invitation, his golden aura reflecting the light from the crystals suspended in the ceiling. His posture was relaxed, almost indolent, but his eyes remained alert, evaluating every movement of those present.
“Well,” he began in a casual tone, “could you show me these supposed proofs of abyssal energy?”
Julius, who had taken a seat in one of the chairs surrounding the central one, interlaced his fingers.
“Don’t play the fool, Kharzan,” he responded in a controlled voice. “You know perfectly well that abyssal energy cannot be detected with an ordinary crystal like normal mana. And if an abyssal beast isn’t manifested, then it cannot be perceived.”
Kharzan arched an eyebrow, the perfect image of offended innocence.
“Then what is, exactly, my son’s abyssal beast?” he asked, extending his hands in a gesture of openness. “What is it like? If you sensed it, you should have seen it under that assumption, shouldn’t you?”
Victor and Arturo exchanged uneasy glances. Doubt began to seep into the atmosphere, exactly as Kharzan intended.
“I see the confusion on your faces,” the Goldcrest patriarch continued, a condescending smile drawing on his lips. “The problem here is simple: you don’t really understand abyssal energy, so you label everything unknown under that tag. An unusual power, a strange mana flow… you immediately jump to the most drastic conclusion and…”
Selphira, who had been observing the exchange with an impassive expression, straightened slightly.
“I was there at the beginnings of the discovery,” she said, each word laden with a weight that made even Kharzan imperceptibly tense. “When the enormous kilometer-long crystalline stone of that giant crater was still a small rock. I know how that energy that corrupts natural mana manifests. I know some of the adaptation steps it requires.”
Her eyes, ancient and burdened with knowledge, bored into Kharzan’s.
“Don’t play clever with me standing before you, Kharzan. Not with me.”
A dense silence followed her words. For an instant, the Goldcrest patriarch seemed genuinely uncomfortable. Then, regaining his composure, he let out a theatrical sigh.
“Frankly, this is boring,” he declared, reclining in his chair. “But hypothetically, what would you do if it were really the case that my family has an interest in the extra power offered by the abyssals?”
“Don’t play the fool,” Sirius immediately replied, his normally flat tone edged with contempt. “You’re not bored. You’ve simply run out of arguments.”
Kharzan let out an abrupt laugh, his eyes hardening.
“Speaking of arguments,” he said, abruptly changing the subject as he turned to face the Dravenholm brothers. “I’m curious about the three princes of the ‘first’ queen.” A subtle emphasis on ‘first’ that didn’t go unnoticed. “Is your authority so low that everything here must be managed by an old woman?”
Selphira showed no reaction to the insult, but Victor visibly clenched his fists.
“I wonder,” Kharzan continued, enjoying the effect of his words, his voice dripping with false concern, “if your half-brothers from the other two queens aren’t taking advantage of you wasting time on these ‘minor matters’ to take away that… ‘throne of sand’ you pretend to manage.”
Victor’s face reddened. Arturo, surprisingly, let out a soft laugh. Julius, always the most diplomatic, stepped forward before his brothers could respond.
“Our brothers are busy managing that ‘Platinum throne’ you mention,” he responded with enviable calm. “It’s a family task that we’re not afraid to share, especially when some of us must deal with important matters’.”
A calculated pause, his eyes never leaving Kharzan’s.
“Matters such as stripping political rights as punishment from a mischievous lion for playing with forbidden forces.”
Kharzan’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes, which remained cold as ice.
“I am not willing to lose anything,” he declared, rising to his feet. His full height and presence seemed to dominate the room suddenly. “I will win everything: my eldest son’s freedom, this useless ‘negotiation’, the freedom to explore the power of our neighbors, and whatever else I want.”
His gaze deliberately shifted to Sirius’s hand where the second ring rested.
Sirius narrowed his eyes, understanding the implication. “Are you ready to die in a five against one, Kharzan?” He asked, his voice devoid of all emotion.
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