Zeke’s challenge was met with a wordless stare.
He returned the gaze without discomfort. Years ago, such pressure might have forced him to avert his eyes. Now, he did not feel the slightest strain. After all, not even the Treemother herself had been able to make him bow his head. What, then, could this woman hope to do?
After realizing he would not yield, the woman spoke again, repeating her earlier assessment almost word for word. This time, however, she dropped the pretense.
“…Ezekiel von Hohenheim. Your forces have achieved merits. But your strong battle results were tarnished by the fact that no territory has been held and no ground recovered.”
Zeke inclined his head. “Are those the only metrics you consider relevant?”
The woman stared at him for a long moment before replying. “I have indulged you enough. As I said, this meeting is not for you to participate in, but merely to observe.”
Zeke shook his head. “My time is too precious to be wasted like this.”
Her brows drew together. “What do you mean to say?”
“Not clear enough?” Zeke asked. “Then let me spell it out. If you insist on conducting this meeting through proxies, issuing judgments like a master to servants while refusing to hear any of our input, then I will have no part in it. I will leave. Right now.”
All the elves froze at once.
Their reaction was natural. Even if the humans had grievances, how could they dare act so openly when faced with overwhelming power?
This was precisely why he had brought the Alexandria. Without it, he would never have spoken so freely. He would have been forced to accept this one-sided farce, just as the others had.
But now?
They were free to test him. If they tried to call his bluff, they would be the ones in for a rude awakening.
His confidence must have been evident, as the leader of the elven delegation did not resort to force or threats right away. Instead, she chose a different approach.
“Did you not sign a contract with us, Mr. Ezekiel? Are you truly prepared to break that agreement?”
Zeke rolled his eyes. These elves were a century too early to debate legal nuances with him. As a Merchant Lord and a Mind Mage, the written word was one of his sharpest weapons. But even without resorting to sophistry, he held the advantage.
“I have a deal with Selvanna Goldleaf,” Zeke said evenly. “I did not make a deal with the Matriarchy as a whole. And I certainly made no promises to you, miss.”
“…I am authorized to speak on behalf of my aunt,” the girl seated before him cut in.
Zeke looked down at her. She was clearly related to Selvanna. The resemblance was obvious at a glance; their lips and noses were nearly identical. Yet the rest of her face still carried the softness of youth, especially her eyes and that high, youthful voice.
“You’ve been… authorized?” Zeke asked, as if he genuinely did not understand. “To do what, exactly?”
“To speak on her behalf, of course,” the girl replied, pride coloring her tone.
Zeke shook his head. “There seems to be a misunderstanding. Do you even know the nature of the contract we signed? I agreed to fight with all my strength to reclaim Rukia, not to follow orders. Even if your aunt herself were standing here, she would not have the authority to command my troops. So tell me, little girl, what authority do you believe you have over me?”
“I…” The girl faltered. Her gaze went to the woman in the center, who was scowling at Zeke.
“Is that really the stance you want to take?” the woman asked coolly. “Are you certain you do not wish to be part of this alliance?”
Zeke shrugged. “I would rather take my chances alone than be ordered around by someone who does not understand the first thing about me and my forces.”
This was not a bluff. If the elves were dead set on this course of action, he would walk away. There were things he could do on his own, even if it would limit his options. It was at least better than following the arrangements of an imbicel.
“Very well,” the woman said. “Then you cannot blame anyone else for what follows. I hereby banish—”
“Hold on.”
The voice was not loud, but it cut through the chamber like a blade.
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Zeke’s gaze snapped toward the speaker. It was not someone he had expected to intervene at this moment.
Krazal Bloodletter’s crimson eyes were fixed on the elven representative. “If you dismiss my great-nephew from this gathering, then I will withdraw as well.”
The woman looked between the two, clearly about to continue what she had started. Before she could, another voice spoke up.
“If House Bloodletter withdraws, then House Ossyrian will do the same.”
“And so will House Cairnwyc,” another added.
Within moments, all three houses of Valour had made their position unmistakably clear.
This time, the woman truly hesitated. Losing Ezekiel alone would have been acceptable, especially since he was clearly a troublemaker. But if the three houses of Valour left with him, that would be a serious blow. Together, the four of them accounted for at least a third of the total force, and likely far more in effective strength.
And that was only the beginning of her problems. While the remaining forces were content to observe for now, the moment these four actually withdrew, it was impossible to predict how many others would follow.
At that point, the legitimacy of her war plans would collapse. More likely than not, a leader would emerge naturally from among the twelve forces—one that would effectively cut the elves out of the equation entirely.
Zeke watched her work through the implications with a calm, unreadable gaze.
At last, he saw the realization dawn on her. She could not push forward here, at least not as forcefully as she had intended. Yet it was just as clear that she was unwilling to retreat another step.
“…Then what do you suggest?”
The question was not directed at Zeke, but at Krazal, the apparent leader of the newly formed Valour alliance.
Krazal did not answer. Instead, he smiled and turned his head toward Zeke, clearly indicating that he would defer to his arrangements.
Zeke’s eye twitched at the sight. A cunning fox. On the surface, it looked as though Krazal trusted him implicitly. In truth, it was the opposite. He had simply washed his hands of the entire affair.
Now it was Zeke who had to deal with the elves, and risk offending them.
Meanwhile, Krazal and the rest of the Valour alliance could sit back and reap the benefits of his arrangements. And if Zeke pushed his demands too far, they could disavow him just as easily. Familial bonds only went so far. They had given him just enough rope to hang himself, but not enough to be dragged down with him.
The waters here ran deep, and a single misstep could mean drowning.
Fortunately, Zeke was well accustomed to such situations. Knowing how far to push was a fundamental skill for a merchant. Knowing when to issue an ultimatum was the mark of a strategist.
“My suggestion is this,” Zeke said, stepping forward and stopping beside the chair of the Goldleaf family. He looked at the young girl seated there. Though she had reached the rank of Archmage, it was clear her ascent had come through slow accumulation rather than raw talent or bloodshed. In other words, she was soft.
“Move.”
The command was delivered so casually that she obeyed without a second thought. Before anyone could protest, Zeke had already taken her seat, continuing only after he settled.
“From now on, all plans will be discussed with me directly. That is my condition for staying. No intermediaries. No proxies. If you want me to act, convince me with reason and logic.”
Zeke saw anger flare across the elven representative’s face. She was about to refuse. He spoke again before she could.
“Know this before you answer,” he said, his voice utterly serious. “If the word no comes out of your mouth right now, I will leave immediately. This is not a bluff, nor a bid to expand my influence. This is my bottom line.”
The woman bit back her words and drew a deep breath. It was far from enough to quell her anger, but it dulled the edge somewhat. “Do you truly believe you are worthy of forcing me to compromise?”
“Yes,” Zeke replied without hesitation. “I am worth that much, at least.”
She scoffed. “Arrogant. Even with your middling results so far, you still dare to speak so boldly.”
“It is precisely because of my results that I dare,” Zeke countered calmly.
The woman stared at him in disbelief, her gaze filled with genuine confusion. It made Zeke frown. This was not a calculated slight. It was her sincere evaluation.
“Tell me, my lady,” Zeke asked, “what exactly do you know about my achievements in this war?”
She regarded him in silence for a moment, then seemed to realize that this was not an attempt to humiliate her, but a genuine question.
“I know that you have achieved victories,” she said at last. “But you always chose to abandon territory and conceal yourself rather than press the advantage. I know that you were defeated at Strattlehold and that you remained hidden for a long time afterward. And I know that you launched a joint assault with a powerful external force and won a decisive victory in your most recent engagement.”
“That’s all?” Zeke asked.
“Is there more I should know?”
Zeke nodded slowly.
His raids on the prison camps had gone entirely unnoticed by the elves. To them, it must have seemed as though he had accomplished little between his defeat at Strattlehold and the present.
If this was the picture she had been given of him, then her assessment—however flawed—was understandable.
“Yes,” Zeke said calmly. “There are a few additional details you may wish to consider.”
He did not raise his voice.
“For example, I am currently sheltering two princes of Rukia, along with more than a thousand rescued mages. I command a force that includes over ten native Archmages. And in my most recent engagement, I did not merely win—I annihilated three full companies.”
The chamber had gone quiet.
The woman’s expression shifted as the implications settled in. Surprise gave way to calculation, then to something closer to unease.
Zeke watched her carefully.
“…Or perhaps,” he continued, his tone unchanged, “you would be more interested to know that Cassius Leafless has allied himself with me.”
“What!?”
The name landed like a physical blow.
Zeke saw her composure falter for the first time. No matter how prideful she was, the weight of that revelation could not be ignored. Cassius Leafless was not merely a powerful mage. He was a symbol, one deeply rooted in elven history. In that sense, he occupied a position among the elves similar to that of Zeke’s own mentor among humans.
Zeke did not press the point. He did not need to.
Given the gaps she had just exposed, it was impossible for her not to question the foundation of the plans she had been given. Waging a war while missing information of this magnitude was how disasters were born.
Zeke leaned back slightly in his throne-like seat, settling in. Her reaction had already confirmed it. He was not leaving today.
“Tell me, my lady,” he said evenly. “Given all of this, do you still consider my demands unreasonable?”