Gave City — Flister Restaurant
"How about we bring him in?"
Auray didn't look up.
Steam curled from his tea in thin, deliberate spirals, rising and fading like thoughts he had already finished considering.
"Him who?"
Adrean exhaled slowly.
A controlled breath.
The kind taken before saying something one would rather avoid.
"Are you really going to make me say it?"
Auray's lips curved faintly.
"You seem to have accepted what he said," he replied.
"Why not admit it?"
Adrean's gaze hardened.
"You know who I mean."
A pause.
"Just tell me what you think."
Auray lifted his cup.
"About what?"
The porcelain clicked softly against the saucer as he set it back down.
Measured.
Deliberate.
Adrean's patience thinned.
"…Logos Laos."
A beat.
"Now—can I get some advice?"
Auray finally looked at him.
Not as a prince.
But as a man trying to solve a problem he didn't yet understand.
"You are usually more stubborn than this," he said.
"What changed?"
Adrean didn't blink.
"Advice. Now."
Auray raised two fingers.
"Two out of five."
Adrean frowned.
"…What?"
Auray leaned forward slightly.
"For the bait."
A pause.
"For Talon."
Understanding flickered.
Not fully formed—
But present.
Then Auray steepled his fingers.
"Let us be precise."
His tone sharpened.
Not hostile—
But exact.
"You do not trust him."
"You do not understand him."
"And yet…"
His gaze locked onto Adrean's.
"You want to rely on him."
Adrean didn't deny it.
"I want results."
Auray smiled.
Just slightly.
"Yes."
A pause.
"And that is exactly why you should be cautious."
Adrean frowned.
"He doesn't care about power. Or honor. Or recognition."
Auray nodded once.
"Correct."
A pause.
"And that is the problem."
He leaned in.
"A man who wants nothing you can offer…"
"…cannot be moved."
The words settled heavier than any accusation.
Adrean's jaw tightened.
"He's still human."
"He must want something."
Auray tilted his head.
"Yes."
A pause.
"He does."
Adrean waited.
Auray's eyes flickered.
"Research."
The word landed softly.
But it carried weight.
"Relentless, obsessive, unchecked pursuit of knowledge."
He tapped the table lightly.
"Enough that the Church has already placed restrictions on him."
Adrean's eyes narrowed.
"How do you know that?"
Auray didn't hesitate.
"Bribes."
A pause.
"Many of them."
"That's not what I asked," Adrean said.
"Who told you?"
Auray met his gaze.
Steady.
Unbothered.
"You already know."
Adrean stilled.
The implication settled.
"…The Church?"
Auray nodded.
"They approached me."
That—
Changed things.
Not dramatically.
But fundamentally.
"They told you this… willingly?"
Auray smiled faintly.
"Not willingly."
A pause.
"As I said—bribes."
He leaned back slightly.
"The Church only shares information…"
"…when they don't know what to do with it."
Adrean's eyes sharpened.
"…Explain."
Auray's tone shifted again.
Less conversational.
More analytical.
"Scholars attracting the Church's attention is not new," he said.
"They either control them…"
"…or remove them."
A pause.
"But Logos—"
He tapped the table again.
"—does not fit either category."
"He has no ambition beyond knowledge."
"No hunger for position."
"No need for validation."
Auray looked directly at Adrean.
"They cannot control him."
"And they cannot justify eliminating him."
Silence followed.
Not because it was unexpected—
But because it was inconveniently true.
"So they told you," Adrean said slowly,
"…so that I would consider using him."
Auray inclined his head.
"Yes."
A pause.
Adrean leaned back.
Thinking.
Carefully now.
"If we use him—"
He chose his words deliberately.
"—we take responsibility."
"And if we don't…"
His gaze sharpened.
"…someone else will."
Auray smiled.
Approving.
"You are improving."
Adrean didn't react.
He was already past that point.
"So," Auray asked,
"what do you intend to do?"
Adrean exhaled.
Once.
Then—
"Punch the Holy Dawn for trying to direct us."
Auray chuckled.
Low.
Dry.
"If Logos ever turns on them," he said,
"you will have your chance."
A pause.
"For now—be practical."
Adrean nodded once.
Decision settling into place.
"Same plan as before."
A beat.
"We strike from two sides."
His voice hardened.
"He crushes from one."
"We pressure from the other."
Auray's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And compensation?"
Adrean's lips curved faintly.
"Assuming he doesn't rob the battlefield for shiny things like an actual crow—"
A pause.
"Mines."
"Raw materials."
"Industrial access."
Auray leaned back.
Satisfied.
Yes.
That would work.
Because power did not interest Logos.
But production—
Creation—
That was a different currency entirely.
"Yes," Auray said quietly.
"That might actually interest him."
The restaurant noise returned slowly.
Muted.
Distant.
As if the conversation had carved out its own space within the world.
Adrean reached for his tea again.
But did not drink.
"…There's another problem," he said.
Auray raised a brow.
"There always is."
Adrean's gaze drifted slightly.
Not unfocused—
But directed inward.
"I insulted him."
Auray blinked once.
Then—
Laughed.
Not loudly.
But genuinely.
"That explains a great deal."
Adrean frowned.
"This is not amusing."
"It is," Auray said calmly.
"Because it changes nothing."
A pause.
"You assume he cares."
Adrean hesitated.
Then—
"…He doesn't."
Auray nodded.
"Correct."
"He will not hold a grudge."
"He will not seek revenge."
"He will not even remember it—unless it affects his work."
A pause.
"Which means—"
Auray leaned forward slightly.
"—your relationship with him will not be defined by pride."
"But by utility."
Adrean's expression shifted.
Not comfort—
But clarity.
"…That's worse."
Auray smiled faintly.
"Yes."
A pause.
"But also far more reliable."
Outside—
The city moved as it always did.
Unaware.
Unconcerned.
Unprepared.
Inside—
Two men finalized a decision that would shape the coming war.
Not through loyalty.
Not through trust.
But through necessity.
Far away—
In a land of iron and smoke—
A boy who did not care for crowns, kings, or consequences—
Was already building the means to end a war.
Not because he was asked.
Not because he was loyal.
But because—
It interested him.
And that—
Was the most dangerous reason of all.