"So, there really was someone pulling the strings from the shadows," Tanaya Verma remarked, her voice smooth yet edged with intrigue. She swept a delicate hand over the folds of her resplendent gown, the fabric catching the light in shimmering waves. "Quite literally, at that."
David turned to her with an effortless grace, his expression warm yet unreadable. "It is an honor to welcome you, Miss Verma," he said, inclining his head slightly. "But I assure you, I am no great mastermind."
"That's hard to believe," Prya interjected, her sharp gaze fixed on him. "It seems pretty obvious that you're the one in charge here."
David shifted his attention to the younger woman, his smile fading ever so slightly. Though his demeanor remained polished, there was an almost imperceptible weight to his next words. "You are quite mistaken," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I am merely a servant, carrying out the will of my master."
"Who is your master?" The question rang out, the voice aged but unwavering, carrying the weight of experience and authority.
David turned smoothly, his gaze locking onto the old veteran with an air of quiet confidence.
"It is someone many of you are already familiar with," he said, his tone steady. "I serve Ezekiel of Tradespire."
The name struck the gathering like a spark in dry tinder, igniting a range of reactions. For those unfamiliar with Ezekiel, the revelation elicited little more than mild curiosity. But for others—Prya Varun and Khadan Gemkar in particular—the impact was immediate.
Prya stiffened, her sharp gaze flickering with recognition, while Khadan's fingers curled subtly. Both had encountered Ezekiel before, though under vastly different circumstances. And now, hearing his name invoked in such a setting, neither could ignore the weight of it.
A heavy silence followed, tense and expectant, before Prya finally exhaled a tired sigh.
"…If that is the case, why was my family invited here?" she asked, her voice edged with skepticism. "I can't imagine your lord holds any fondness for House Varun."
David's eyes sharpened, his composed demeanor hardening ever so slightly.
"An understatement," he said simply. Then, after a measured pause, he continued, "But as I mentioned before, I am no grand mastermind, and Undercity does not dance to my tune alone. Your family, Miss Varun, is among the most affluent. To exclude you over a personal grievance would be a disservice—not to me, nor to my lord, but to the people of Undercity themselves."
David's words visibly caught Prya off guard. For once, she had no sharp retort, only staring at him in disbelief. It was no wonder—Korrovan's customs differed vastly from the pragmatic approach of Tradespire. Here, feuds and grievances carried as much weight as tangible benefits, and setting them aside so easily was nearly unheard of.
It was the ever-composed Tanaya Verma who smoothly guided the conversation back on track. "How magnanimous of your lord, Mr… Hmmm. May I call you David?"
David inclined his head in acknowledgment.
"Very well," she continued, offering a pleasant yet shrewd smile. "However, I must admit, I'm still puzzled by something you said earlier."
David met her gaze. "What words are you referring to?"
"You claimed that dismantling this newly established council was not something you would recommend," Tanaya said, tilting her head slightly. "Surely, you didn't say that simply because you happened to be present?"
As she spoke, her Mana flared to life, suffusing the hall with an oppressive aura. It was the unmistakable presence of an Archmage—and not a weak one. Aside from the old veteran, she might very well have been the most powerful individual in the room.
"After all," she continued smoothly, her tone unchanged despite the tension rising around her, "you couldn't have seriously believed that the presence of a single Archmage would be enough to dissuade us from resorting to violence, could you?"
Gasps rippled through the gathered representatives. No one had expected the poised, motherly woman to be the one to escalate the situation again. And yet, with the weight of her power pressing down upon them, it seemed that violence was now the most likely resolution to this standoff.
Jatan Bandhi's grin widened as he unleashed his Mana as well, eagerly adding his strength to Tanaya's display of power. The air grew heavier, charged with raw energy. Even the old veteran allowed a fraction of his own formidable aura to seep into the room—a silent yet undeniable acknowledgment that he was not opposed to a more forceful resolution if it proved necessary.
Yet David, the one in the center of this menacing pressure, remained entirely unfazed. If anything, his smile deepened, his expression unreadable.
"Of course not," he said, his voice as calm as ever. "That would be ridiculous."
At that moment, as if responding to an unseen signal, two more auras flared to life within the tower—both unmistakably of Archmage caliber. Though their presence remained outside the hall, their proximity left no doubt that they were close, watching.
"Two more?" Verma muttered, her brows knitting together. "Ezekiel of Tradespire commands three Archmages? But wasn't it said that he didn't have a single one under his command?"
Her question was directed at Prya, whose expression darkened. Her brows furrowed, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought. Absently, she gave a small nod, confirming the discrepancy without offering an explanation.
For a fleeting moment, it seemed the sudden revelation might be enough to quell the rising tension. Even Jatan Bandhi, who had all but invited bloodshed moments ago, appeared less eager for open conflict.
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But then, the old veteran spoke.
"This is not enough," he said, his gaze piercing through David like a blade. "If my senses serve me right, the three of you together wouldn't even be a match for me alone."
Before David could respond, a voice from the Chimeroi cut through the tension like a blade.
"You must think of us as mere decorations, old fool," Elder Tiger growled, her tone laced with quiet menace.
The veteran turned to face her, an almost fatherly smile playing across his weathered features. "I assure you, young lady, I do not. But neither will I exaggerate your significance in battle."
Elder Tiger bared her fangs in a grin that was anything but amused. "You? You could take me, no doubt. But there are thousands more waiting beyond these walls. Tell me, can you take them all?"
To drive her point home, Elder Tiger threw back her head and unleashed a roar from the depths of her lungs. It was a deep, guttural sound that rattled the very walls of the tower, reverberating through the corridors like a primal war cry.
But that was only the beginning.
In answer to her call, a chorus of voices erupted from beyond—an uncountable number of roars, howls, and snarls rising in unison. The air itself seemed to tremble with their fury.
For a fleeting moment, the quiet city beneath the sands no longer felt like a place of civilization. It had become the heart of the wild, a battleground where countless predators vied for dominance.
To that, the old man had no answer.
Satisfied, Elder Tiger swept a contemptuous gaze over the gathered representatives. "Listen well, humans," she snarled, her voice carrying a weight that sent an almost primal shiver through the room. "This is our city—OURS! If you choose to fight, I promise you one thing—no matter how many you slaughter, the result will not change."
The threat hung in the room, as open and unveiled as it could ever be. Now the only question was how the parties would react.
"…The Nair family will negotiate in good faith," Mohan declared, breaking the tense silence.
"As will the Gemkar family," Khadan Gemkar added swiftly.
Their decisions came as little surprise. As the only two factions present without an Archmage, they lacked the sheer power to challenge the emerging balance, making negotiation their only viable path.
What did surprise the room, however, was the next party to yield.
"The Verma family also chooses to negotiate," Tanaya Verma announced, her voice calm and composed. The motherly warmth in her smile had returned, and the overwhelming pressure of her aura had vanished as if it had never been there at all.
"Cowards…" Jatan Bandhi hissed, his voice dripping with contempt. He turned sharply to the old veteran. "What about you, Sir Veerkar? Surely, you are not intimidated by these beasts?"
The old man didn't so much as glance in his direction as he replied, his tone calm yet cutting. "There is a fine line between courage and foolishness, young man. I suggest you learn where it lies."
With that, he withdrew his aura, the weight of his presence dissipating. He then turned to Elder Tiger, giving her a respectful nod. "It seems a military solution would be ill-advised," he admitted. "But if you ever find yourself looking for work, come find me, young woman. Our forces could use someone like you."
Elder Tiger scoffed and turned her head away, but not before a faint, unmistakable blush dusted her cheeks. "I'll never serve no humans," she muttered.
"So…" Prya Varun broke the silence, her tone shifting to one of sharp pragmatism. "Now that violence is off the table, how about we talk business? Mr. David, what exactly are you offering?"
"Labour," David replied simply.
Prya arched a brow. "So, the same services we've always received from Undercity—just at a higher price?" Her words were blunt, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
"Not quite," David countered, his smile returning with a knowing edge. "When I say labour, I don't mean the crude, bottom tier work of the past."
"What else could these animals possibly produce, aside from the most rudimentary tools?" Jatan Bandhi sneered.
David turned his gaze to him, his smile widening—not in amusement, but in something far sharper. "I'm glad you asked," he said, as though Jatan's remark had been a sincere inquiry rather than a contemptuous jab. "For instance, my lord is in the process of relocating his renowned airship manufacturing almost entirely to Undercity."
Silence fell over the hall. Even Jatan had no immediate retort.
And yet, David was far from finished.
"In addition," he continued smoothly, "arrangements have already been made for dwarven machinery and master artisans to arrive within the next few months. If all goes as planned, Undercity will stand among the continent's foremost manufacturing hubs within a year."
"That sounds… impossible," Prya said, skepticism clear in her voice. "It would take an investment of tens of millions to even begin brokering such a deal. And even if someone had the funds, persuading the dwarves to relocate is harder than squeezing water from a stone. How could such an agreement be forged without a single whisper reaching our ears?"
David merely shrugged. "I won't waste my breath trying to convince the unwilling. The truth of my words will reveal itself soon enough."
That was enough to stifle any further objections. After all, who would dare tell such a grand lie if it would crumble within the week?
"As I was saying," David continued smoothly, his tone unwavering. "What we are offering is high-quality labor, along with a selection of new products that we have already agreed to distribute through the Nair family." He inclined his head slightly toward Mohan in acknowledgment. "For this initial phase, we have chosen to limit our trade agreements to a select few partners—consider it a proof of concept."
His gaze swept across the assembled representatives, pausing just a heartbeat longer on Tanaya Verma than the others. Then, with a measured smile, he asked, "Now, who among you wishes to be among the chosen few?"
***
In an opulently decorated room, two figures stood before a crystal formation, its surface swirling with light. Within its depths, the events unfolding in the Black Tower played out in perfect clarity, as if they were watching from within the chamber itself.
"Are you certain this is wise, Father?" one asked, his voice laced with unease. "They've seem to have found a way to nullify the effects of the Enslavement Ritual."
"It is of no consequence," the other man replied, his tone calm yet absolute. "So far, everything I've seen has only served to benefit me."
"...But is it truly prudent to allow them such freedom so close to our capital?"
For a moment, a flicker of something dangerous passed through the older man's eyes—a storm barely held at bay. "Even if I wished to intervene," he said, "now is not the time."
The younger man hesitated, clearly unsettled. "I've never known you to show such restraint."
The older man sighed, shaking his head. "Even I can't act solely on my own will when it concerns the alliance."
"I don't understand," the younger man admitted.
"Ezekiel of Tradespire has challenged the Empire more boldly than some entire nations," the older man explained, his tone measured. "Reckless as he may be, he's earned the favor of many. Moving against him now would create more problems than it's worth. Besides..." His gaze shifted northward, toward the imposing mountain range that marked the border of Arkanheim. His expression darkened. "That old fox is a far greater threat than you realize."
The younger man turned to his father, skepticism etched across his face. "No army could make it through those cliffs. It would be a fool's errand to even try."
The man fixed his son with an unreadable gaze. "Such reckless assumptions could doom an entire nation," he said, his voice turning heavy, as though recounting a grim legend from a forgotten age. "When Arkanheim moves, the mountains will rise against us. The seas will turn traitorous, the air we breathe will choke us, and the very fire that warms our homes will devour us in our sleep. That is what it means to stand against the elemental nations."
A shiver ran through the younger man. Never before had he heard his father—revered across the land as the Lightning Exarch—speak with such solemnity about an enemy.
"Mark my words…" the older man continued, his gaze distant, as if staring into the coming storm. "When the true war starts, we will be grateful for every ally… even if it's just a boy with a grudge."