The silence in the library felt heavy after the doors closed. The smell of old books and dried ink filled the air, but beneath it was the sharp, metallic scent of blood that had not yet been cleaned. Hans stood by the mahogany table, his back as straight as a spear. His eyes, sharp like knives, looked at Eon with a mix of loyalty and a dark, hidden hunger for justice.
"We must move fast, Master Eon," Hans said, his voice low but firm. "Captain Valen is not a fool. He is a man who notices details that others miss, much like a hunter following a trail. If he stays alive, he will find the truth of what happened here sooner or later. It is only a matter of time. I propose we arrange for his assassination immediately. We can end the threat before it reaches the Marquess's estate."
Hans stepped closer, his gloved hands clenching into fists. "It is not just about the military threat. That man... years ago, at a party for the high nobles, he did something unforgivable. He stood in the center of the hall and mocked Countess Teressa in front of everyone. He laughed about her loneliness and her need for partners. He even suggested, with a disgusting smile, that he should be the one to satisfy her. He is a noble, yes, but he treated our lady like a piece of common meat. He must pay for that insult."
Elsa looked at Eon, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. She was a White Knight, and she understood the weight of honor. But Eon did not move. He looked at the map on the table, his mind moving far ahead of Hans's anger.
"No," Eon said, his voice cutting through the room's tension. "We are not killing him."
Hans blinked, his sharp eyes widening. "Master? He is the biggest danger to us right now."
"And that is exactly why we cannot kill him," Eon replied, standing up to face the group. "Think about what happens if a high-ranking Captain of the Denares army disappears or dies right next to our gate. The King will notice. The high-ranking nobles, not to mention the Duke of the North, the man who dealt the final blow to our people ten years ago, will look toward this house. We cannot afford to attract any attention to us now. We are not ready for that. We have no army. We have no real walls. If we keep killing every noble that bothers us, we will bring a war we cannot win yet."
Eon looked at Elsa, Verra, Liam, and Loreth. "We need time. Time to grow strong. Time to build a force that can actually fight back. To get that time, we must play a game. A Great Sham."
"What do you mean, SHAM?" Liam asked, his voice curious.
"Yes, a SHAM. Everything must look normal," Eon explained. "To the outside world, Count Robert is simply ill. The Denares brothers have gone home. The house is functioning exactly as it did yesterday. If we show the world absolute normalcy, they will have no reason to look closer."
After that they argued for a while, only to at last come to the same conclusion that, feigning ignorance and innocence is the right move. They all begin to prepare for that goal.
Eon began the work of hiding the scars any battle. He walked through the main halls, on his hands were glowing with a soft, amber light of a lantern.
He found the holes in the stone walls where spears had struck. With a thought, the stone seemed to flow like water, filling the cracks and smoothing over until the wall looked perfect and old once more. He moved to the courtyard, fixing the heavy iron gate that had been bent during the struggle. The metal groaned and reshaped itself under his will until the locks clicked into place as if they had never been touched. Bending the huge metal gate took a lot out of him.
Inside the house, the task was grimmer. He used his mana to erase every trace of deep red stains from the carpets and the wooden floors of the basement dungeon. He watched as the blood was washed away by water, leaving the surfaces clean. The smell of death was replaced by the neutral scent of dust and stone.
"The prisoners, too," Eon ordered Hans.
Following Eon's command, Hans and the other elves moved the Alaric and Darius Denares brothers to a secure, hidden location away from the main mansion. They were kept in the dark, chained and silent, their aristocratic pride broken by the heavy collars around their necks.
The other elves who had been rescued from the cells were also hidden. Eon knew that seeing dozens of free elves walking around a human Count's estate would bring instant suspicion. They were moved to a secret area of the estate, provided with food and the healing potions Eon had brewed to restore their strength.
Once the house was clean, the group met again to settle their new roles.
"We cannot be seen as warriors," Elsa said, looking at her silver hair in the mirror.
She, Verra, Loreth, and Liam changed their clothes. They put on the simple, rough fabric worn by house servants and maids. Elsa, the former White Knight, now carried a tray instead of a sword, though her eyes remained sharp. Verra and her daughter Loreth moved through the kitchen and halls, acting as if they had been serving the Edger family for years. All of them wore fake slave collars around their neck for further making their case believable.
Then, Eon looked at his own reflection.
"I cannot hide as a servant," Eon stated. "My face has been seen. During the negotiation with Elora, the Denares guards and other outsiders saw me clearly. If I suddenly appear as a mere slave cleaning the floors, it will look like a trick."
He adjusted the leather straps on his arms and took a high-quality sword from the Count's collection. "From this moment on, I am Countess Teressa's personal guard. It explains why I am always near her. It explains why I am armed. And it gives me the authority to stop anyone who tries to ask too many questions."
The disguise was complete. The mansion was a silent, peaceful noble house again, hiding the fact that its master was dead and its future was now in the hands of a High Elf from another world.
A few miles away, the atmosphere was much louder. The village Oakhaven's popular tavern was filled with rowdy shouts and laughter of the Denares soldiers. The "Diablo" unit, the fearsome main force of the Marquess's army, was resting for the night.
The soldiers sat at long wooden tables, banging their cups and calling for more ale. They were in a state of high delight.
"I thought this was a backwater village," one soldier laughed, his face red from drink. "But look at the girls here! I've seen princesses in the capital who didn't look this good."
It was true. The waitresses weaving through the tables were unusually beautiful. Their skin was too smooth, their movements too graceful for country girls. They smiled at the soldiers, leaning in close and laughing at their rough jokes.
Two soldiers in the corner were already deep in conversation with two of the waitresses. The girls were charging almost nothing for their company, a fact that made the soldiers feel like kings. Within the hour, the two men stood up, grins on their faces, and led the girls toward the private rooms upstairs.
Captain Valen sat alone at a small table near the fire. He did not drink. His eyes moved constantly, watching the room, watching his men, and watching the girls.
'Something is off,' he thought, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. 'These women... they move like they are used to silk, not sawdust. And they are far too interested in what my men are saying about the Edger mansion.'
But Valen was still a man.
The most beautiful woman in the room, a tall brunette with eyes that seemed to glow in the firelight, walked toward him. She did not join the other girls in their loud laughter. She stopped at his table and poured him a fresh cup of water, her fingers grazing his hand.
"The weight of the world is a heavy thing to carry, Captain," she whispered, her voice like velvet. "You look like a man who has not slept in days."
Valen looked at her, his suspicion fighting with his exhaustion.
"I have a room upstairs," she continued, leaning closer until he could smell the sweet scent of flowers on her skin. "It is quiet. Away from the noise. We can talk about whatever bothers you."
Valen hesitated, his eyes flicking to the stairs. He knew he should stay alert. He knew the Duke of the North's spies were everywhere. But the woman's smile was like a trap he suddenly felt too tired to avoid.
He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. He followed her into the shadows of the upper floor, unaware that he was walking directly into a web spun by the very people he feared.
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