Chapter 45: The Negotiation
Count Barton tried to move.
He couldn't.
Every inch of muscle, every fragment of bone, was pinned to his chair by invisible shackles of sheer pressure.
"What kind of trade?" Barton asked. His voice was steady, betraying none of the absolute terror seizing his nerves.
Skele-Greed wore a perfect, porcelain smile. "Submission to the Master."
Barton's gaze didn't waver. He stared directly into the vampire's crimson eyes. "How can you be so certain that we aren't a match for you?"
Greed let out a soft, melodic chuckle. The sound drifted through the silent study but failed to produce even a single echo.
"To harbor the delusion of defeating that Personage... human thoughts are always so... interesting." Greed tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Do you honestly believe you are capable of it?"
Barton didn't respond. His mind was racing through a thousand contingencies.
Time. I need more time.
He had to stall, analyze this man's every movement, and find a flaw. The guard rotation should be passing by any moment. Support was only a heartbeat away.
Greed saw right through the Count's calculations. He took two languid steps forward.
"Are you waiting for the guards, My Lord Count?" Greed asked. "Why don't we play a game instead? A riddle.
"First question: Guess how I passed through three checkpoints and two patrol squads to enter this castle and stroll into your study?
"Second question: Guess why those loyal knights of yours—the ones who swore to protect you with their lives—looked right at me and saw nothing? Why one even held the door for me?
"Third question: That little girl who fled from Iron Fortress... Lilia, was it? Guess why she suddenly drew her blade and butchered her own companion?"
Greed's voice was soft, yet it acted like a scalpel, precisely dissecting Barton's defenses.
"Last question, my dear Count. Guess... if you are currently being influenced by me as well?"
Barton's pupils constricted into pinpricks. "You!"
Greed spread his arms wide with an elegant flourish, like an actor taking a bow at the end of a tragedy.
"Precisely."
"It was me."
His voice was saturated with the pleasure of an artist admiring his own masterpiece.
"I simply planted a tiny seed in all of your hearts. Count, I never 'control' anyone. Control is a crude, low-level tool. I only need... to give a gentle push. And then, they scramble over each other to walk off the cliff of their own accord."
Greed's finger traced a line in the air, pointing toward the door.
"Your Knight Commander—his greatest wish is for the war to end so he can go home and hug his daughter. So, I made him believe that I brought a 'chance for peace.' And so, he opened the gates for me."
He pointed to a dark corner of the room, where the phantom of the girl still seemed to linger.
"That girl... her heart was a hollow shell, filled with nothing but hatred and agony. So, I made her believe that killing her companion was the only way to find 'release.' And so, she drew her knife."
Finally, Greed's gaze snapped back to Barton. The invisible weight crushing the Count intensified. Barton felt his bones groan, as if they were seconds away from being reduced to powder. Cold sweat soaked through his silk tunic, stinging his eyes.
He tried to ignite his Battle Aura—the power that had seen him through decades of conquest—but it lay in his veins like stagnant, dead water.
"Now, it is your turn, My Lord Count. Let us discuss the details of our transaction."
Greed circled behind the desk, leaning casually against the edge as if he were the true master of the castle.
"The Master admires those with competence. Under your governance, Jade Territory has proven itself... acceptable. If you, Count Barton, in your capacity as Lord, swear fealty to my Master, your life will continue. That Personage will allow you to keep your title, your castle, and your wealth.
"You lose only a trivial amount of dignity. In exchange, you gain genuine power and an eternal existence. You only need to do one thing."
Greed held up a single finger, wagging it gently in front of Barton's face.
"Open the gates. Tell your subjects that resistance is futile. Tell them that submission... is the only path to survival."
Barton's breathing became heavy and ragged. He stared at Greed, every word spat out from between gritted teeth.
"If your master... is truly as omnipotent as you claim... why does he need me? Why not simply use your legion of the dead to trample this place into dust?"
Greed's smile thinned by a fraction.
"A fair question." He straightened up, pacing to the window and looking out at the myriad lights of the city. "Destruction is the simplest thing in this world. But what that Personage desires is not a ruin, but a New Order.
"And you, Count Barton... you and your Jade Territory shall be the first Sample we present to the world."
Barton's mind reeled. An undead... speaking of order and peace?
"Why should I trust you?" Barton pressed, his thoughts churning through the flood of information, searching for any contradiction to exploit. "You are merely a messenger. How do I know that submission won't be met with a butcher's blade and a mountain of lies?"
"You do not possess the Authority to choose whether to believe or not." Greed turned back, the warmth vanishing from his voice. "You can only accept."
His tone softened again, dripping with artificial kindness. "However... as a gesture of our sincerity, I can allow you a glimpse... of the future."
Greed snapped his fingers.
Snap.
The study dissolved before Barton's eyes. The colors bled away.
He saw the high walls of Jade Territory. Beneath them was an endless sea of the dead—a black tide silently battering the fragile stone foundation. On the walls, the guards' faces were masks of pure despair. Their swords trembled; their shields were ready to shatter.
Then, Barton saw himself. He was pinned to the cobblestones by his most trusted personal guards. His own Knight Commander's blade slid cleanly across his throat.
He saw his own severed head held high, offered up as a tribute to the Undead King waiting below.
The gates slowly creaked open. The legion of the dead poured in like a flood, swallowing everything in its path.
The illusion vanished.
Barton gasped for air, his chest heaving. Cold sweat had completely drenched his undershirt.
"Do you see?" Greed's voice whispered in his ear like a demon's breath. "That is your end. That is the future of Jade Territory."
"You are wrong."
Barton snapped his eyes open. The terror in them had been replaced by a strange, piercing clarity.
"Oh?" For the first time, an expression of genuine surprise crossed Greed's face.
"You think you understand the human heart," Barton said. His voice wasn't loud, but it was incredibly sharp. "But there is one thing in humans that you can never calculate, and you will never comprehend."
"And what might that be?" Greed asked with curious interest.
"Conviction," Barton said, word by word. "Your 'trade'—exchanging dignity and the future for a wretched existence—is worthless to those with conviction. And it is worthless to me."
The first crack finally appeared in Greed's composure. "It seems the Lord Count has yet to grasp reality."
"No, I have grasped it perfectly," Barton stared him down. "I have realized that you are not invincible. You wasted so many words and constructed such an elaborate psychological trap just to persuade me. That alone proves that you need my cooperation.
"To take this city by force would cost you. Even if you win, it would not be as effortless as you claim. Every soul in this city would become a stumbling block in your path. My cooperation saves you that cost. That is the true content of your 'trade,' isn't it?"
The air in the study felt as if it had frozen. Greed stared at Barton in absolute silence. The invisible force binding Barton's body began to recede, inch by inch. He felt his fingers twitch.
"A fascinating deduction," Greed said, suddenly laughing harder and more brilliantly than before. "But you've made one mistake, My Lord Count. You are not irreplaceable. Without your cooperation, the outcome remains the same."
Greed's hand drifted back to the unfinished letter on the desk.
"This 'conviction' you speak of... how many people truly possess it? Not many, I think."
He picked up the letter and, right before Barton's eyes, methodically tore it into tiny pieces.
"There are plenty in Jade Territory who would love to take your place. I only need to give them a promise. A promise that if they overthrow you, they get everything you own. How do you think they will choose?
"You don't need to open the gates, Barton. They will trample each other to open them for us."
Greed let go of the paper, the scraps falling like snow.
"The game is only just beginning."
With that, he turned and walked toward the door. His figure merged into the shadows and vanished, as if he had never been there at all.
Count Barton was left alone in the study. The force binding him had vanished completely. He lunged out of his chair, hands slamming onto the desk as he gasped for air.
He stared at the shredded paper on the floor.
The true enemy wasn't outside the walls.
They were inside.
They were in the hearts of every man and woman in the city.
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