The air in the library, which had been serving as their command room, was thick with tension. Julius Edger, the young master of the house, had snapped. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with the madness of a man whose world had crumbled overnight.
"Die, you filth!"
With a guttural scream, Julius lunged. In his hand was a silver fruit knife, likely snatched from a bedside tray. He rushed straight at Eon, aiming for his throat.
Eon didn't flinch. His stats had skyrocketed after the battle with the Denares brothers. With his Agility now at 19, he had seen Julius's intent from at least five meters away. He shifted his weight, dropping into a relaxed defensive stance, ready to disarm him with a simple twist of the wrist.
But before the blade could come anywhere near Eon, a shadow moved.
Hans stepped in. He moved with a speed that belied his age, placing his body firmly between the raging noble and the High Elf.
"Young Master, stop!"
Julius skidded to a halt, the knife trembling in his hand just inches from Hans's chest. His face twisted in disbelief.
"Hans?" Julius choked out, his voice cracking with betrayal. "You? You are defending him?"
He looked from the butler to Eon and back again, his fury mounting. "You should be at my side! How can you defend that vile creature who has killed my father, your lord. Did you not see my father's cold corpse is lying in that room right now?".
Hans didn't look away. He adjusted his pristine gloves, his expression pained but resolute. He sighed, a sound of deep weariness.
"I know, Young Master," Hans said quietly. "I know because I put him there. I stored the body of the Count and the Denares soldiers inside the Countess's private room myself, to ensure no servant would stumble upon them and cause a panic."
Julius's jaw dropped. The betrayal cut deeper than he thought. "You... you hid them? So you are in cahoots with these slaves? You are part of this treason?"
"Young Master, please, if you would just let me fin…"
"Shut up!" Julius screamed, swinging the knife wildly in the air. "Why aren't you killing this murderer? Why are you protecting him when he slaughtered your Lord? He is a monster who killed my father!"
Hans opened his mouth to speak, to explain the impossible situation regarding Captain Valen and the Denares army, but a calm, cold voice cut through the noise.
"That is enough."
Eon stepped forward, moving past Hans. He looked at Julius not with fear, but with the tired patience of a teacher dealing with a unruly child.
"Do you have any idea what has been happening in this house for the past few days, Julius?" Eon asked, his amber eyes piercing.
Julius glared at him, panting.
"If you knew the truth," Eon continued, his voice steady, "you would understand the reason behind every death and every action taken. Why are you making a commotion now?
And if you genuinely don't know the full story, shouldn't you try to learn it first? Or at least listen what hans is trying to say. Shouldn't you understand why things happened before you decide who should be hanged?"
It was a logical argument. But logic holds no sway over a man drowning in pride and loss.
"Reasons?" Julius scoffed, spitting on the floor near Eon's boots. "I don't need reasons from you. No matter what happened, a slave has no authority to kill a Count! Why should I listen to the excuses of a mere slave who murdered my father?"
He raised the knife again, ready to push past Hans.
THUSH.
The sound was sharp and loud, echoing off the high ceiling of the library.
Julius's head snapped to the side. The knife clattered to the floor. He stood there, frozen, his hand slowly rising to clutch his cheek, which was already turning a bright, angry red.
He turned slowly, his eyes wide with shock.
Countess Teressa stood there, her hand still raised, her chest heaving. She had arrived just in time to hear her son's final, arrogant outburst.
"Mother?" Julius whispered. It was the first time in his life she had ever struck him.
"You foolish boy," Teressa hissed. Her voice wasn't weak or victimized anymore. It was sharp with authority.
She stepped closer, towering over him in her fury. "What did Eon say that was wrong? Look at yourself! Shouldn't you try to understand the situation before acting like a madman?"
"But... he killed Father..."
"And your father brought this on himself!" Teressa shouted, silencing him. "Why should Eon receive this treatment? All he has done is show good intentions, even after acquiring control of this county. He could have killed us all. Instead, he saved me from the Denares brothers! He is trying to save you from them right now!"
She poked Julius hard in the chest. "Your father was torturing the elves down below, Eon's own kin, without any proof, just for his sick pleasure. Of course Eon would get angry! And now, look at you. Isn't this exactly how your father acted? Rushing into things without investigating? Punishing people without cause? You are becoming just like him!"
The room fell silent. Even Eon raised an eyebrow, surprised at how Teressa was taking his side.
He knew he had manipulated Teressa, used potions and psychology to win her over, but he hadn't expected this level of loyalty. She wasn't just defending him out of fear; she genuinely believed in his "good intentions."
'This is better than I planned,' Eon thought, a wave of relief washing over him. 'She truly is on my side. That is one less variable to worry about.'
Teressa didn't wait for Julius to respond. She grabbed her son by the arm, her grip iron-tight.
"Come with me," she ordered. "We are going to the dining room. You will eat, you will calm down, and you will listen to me."
She turned her head slightly, looking back at Eon, Hans, and the others. Her expression softened for a fraction of a second.
"Continue your meeting. If you need me, find me at the dining room."
With that, she dragged the stunned heir out of the library. Julius stumbled along, still clutching his swollen cheek, looking like a confused child rather than the master of the house.
As the door clicked shut, the silence returned.
Hans cleared his throat awkwardly. Elsa and the other elves looked at the door, then at each other.
"Poor him," someone whispered.
Eon let out a small, dry chuckle. "Indeed."
Meanwhile, a few miles away from the Edger estate, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon.
The village of Oakhaven was a small, dusty stop on the main road, usually insignificant. But tonight, the local tavern was packed with soldiers wearing the roaring lion crest of the Denares family.
Captain Valen sat at a sturdy wooden table, nursing a mug of ale. He was a scarred veteran, known for being the most cautious soldier in the Denares army. His eyes scanned the room, not relaxing for a moment, even as his men laughed and drank around him.
"Captain, you worry too much!" one of his lieutenants laughed, slamming a tankard down. "The Marquess gave the order to retreat. Why are we stopping here instead of marching home?"
"Because the order smelled wrong, dumbass," Valen muttered, his voice low. "Alaric Denares does not retreat from a 'filthy house' without burning it down first. We will wait for the scout to get the real truth."
"Suit yourself," the lieutenant grinned, turning his attention to the bar.
The captain's gaze followed the lieutenant's. He frowned.
The tavern was rustic, filled with farmers and travelers, country bumpkins with rough hands and sun-weathered faces. But the waitresses...
There were three of them weaving through the crowd. They were stunning. Not just 'village pretty,' but genuinely beautiful, with skin too smooth and figures too perfect for this backwater location. They moved with a grace that seemed out of place among the spilled ale and sawdust.
"What is up with this tavern?" the lieutenant whispered, leaning in. "How can every waitress be this beautiful? We are in the middle of nowhere."
Valen narrowed his eyes. "It is strange."
"Strange? It's a blessing!" another soldier chimed in, eyeing a girl with auburn hair as she poured wine at a nearby table. "Who cares why? Lucky for us, I say."
He nudged the captain. "Come on, Valen. The scout won't be back for hours. Let's hire some of these beautiful girls for the night. We might be busy fighting tomorrow if your hunch is right. Might as well enjoy the calm before the storm, eh?"
Valen looked at the waitress. She smiled at a patron, and for a second, Valen thought he saw something sharp in her gaze, calculating. But then she laughed, and it was just a pretty girl again.
He sighed, taking a long drink of his ale. The tension of the sudden retreat was gnawing at him, and his men needed to blow off steam.
"Fine," Valen grunted. "But keep your weapons close. We might be busy for some time, who knows?"
The soldiers cheered, raising their mugs, completely unaware that their captain's intuition was the only thing standing between them and a disaster brewing at the Edger mansion.
Author Note: If someone noticed a flag in this chapter, raise your hands in the comment section.
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