Chapter 25: Poisoned Pact

The barren wastelands of Tharvannis stretched endlessly beneath a gray sky, blanketed in frost and despair. Once a beacon of wealth and power in the northern Earthlands, Tharvannis had long since fallen into decay. Generations past, its discovery of Levicite made it an industrial powerhouse, expanding its borders through conquest and trade. But those golden days were little more than tales now, stories Elenora Miren had heard from her grandmother’s lips. What remained of Tharvannis was a lifeless tundra, its survival clinging to the meager yields of seasonal agriculture.

Elenora stood as the sole reason her family—and her land—hadn’t yet succumbed to oblivion. Her father, Elar Miren, had nearly ruined their legacy through years of indulgence and negligence, his sudden death from a heart attack more a mercy than a tragedy. From a young age, Elenora had been forced to seize control, wielding authority with an iron fist to halt the downward spiral. Slowly, her unyielding will brought some semblance of stability back to Tharvannis, though not without cost.

Her ambitions now lay southward, on the fertile lands of Aelith Shore, ruled by the Veyne family. The head of that house, Leontius Veyne, was a seasoned tactician who had thwarted her every maneuver for years. When he’d offered his daughter’s hand in marriage to secure an alliance, Elenora saw the ploy for what it was: a shield to protect Aelith Shore from her aspirations. But fortune had smiled upon her in an unexpected way.

The disappearance of Livra Veyne, and Elenora’s subsequent leverage over the girl, was a gift too perfect to be mere coincidence. With Livra as her pawn, Elenora intended to dismantle the Veynes piece by piece. Tharvannis would reclaim its former glory, and the Earthlands would bow once more to her banner.

To achieve her aims, however, she needed an ally with resources—someone like Rykesh Farlin. The corpulent merchant lord commanded an empire of trade routes and influence that could transport armies and bribe officials. Rykesh demanded only one thing in exchange for his support: Elenora’s hand in marriage. She had agreed, outwardly conceding to his demands while inwardly plotting his demise. Her eldest son, born of her late husband, was her chosen heir. Any child conceived with Rykesh, she had already decided, would never see the light of day, and she will flawlessly take care of it no matter what.

Now, the night had come. Rykesh Farlin was on his way to Tharvannis, accompanied by his retinue for a lavish banquet in his honor. Elenora, composed as ever, strode through the halls of her ancestral mansion, issuing orders to servants and ensuring every detail was perfect. This evening was to be memorable—for reasons Rykesh could scarcely imagine.

Days prior, Elenora had received an unexpected communique from Ava Lyssan. The frail yet formidable mastermind of the Council of Four had warned her of Rykesh’s plans. According to Ava’s informants, Rykesh intended to kill Elenora’s children during the banquet while consummating their marriage, thereby solidifying his claim to the Miren name and lands. The revelation confirmed what Elenora had already suspected: betrayal was inevitable. Also, she hated to admit it, but that crippled girl was more capable than anyone could imagine, so it had to be true. She would not be the one caught unaware.

In her private chambers, Elenora prepared for the evening with meticulous care. She concealed weapons throughout the room, ensuring that no matter the circumstance, she would not be defenseless. Knives were strapped to her thighs, hidden beneath her gown, and more were tucked into the folds of her sleeves.

A knock at the door interrupted her.

“Come in,” Elenora commanded.

A young maid entered, carrying a small glass vial.

“Do you have what I asked for?” Elenora inquired, her voice cold and sharp.

“Yes, my lady,” the girl replied, bowing.

“Good,” Elenora said. “Apply it to my arms and neck.”

The maid nodded, opening the vial to reveal a faintly iridescent liquid that shimmered under the dim light. Carefully, she dabbed the substance onto Elenora’s pale skin, spreading it with deliberate precision.

As the liquid absorbed, its faintly sweet aroma filled the room. But its true purpose was far deadlier. Extracted from a rare plant native to the eastern Rainshadows, the substance was a slow-acting poison that would take hours to incapacitate its victim fully. With Rykesh’s gluttonous tendencies, Elenora was certain he would ingest enough through skin contact during their inevitable constant touching to ensure his demise by morning.

Elenora regarded her reflection in the mirror, her expression unflinching. She would endure this charade, as she had endured so many others. Tonight, Rykesh Farlin would feast like a king. Tomorrow, he would be nothing more than a memory.

“Leave me,” she ordered the maid, her voice as cold as the Tharvannis winds.

The girl bowed and left without a word, leaving Elenora to her thoughts.

The night was hers to command. And before it was over, she would ensure that no one—not even Ava Lyssan—would dare underestimate the Miren name again.

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The great hall of the Miren mansion echoed with the arrival of Rykesh Farlin’s entourage. His levitating carriages gleamed with over-the-top gilding, while the man himself disembarked wearing a velvet coat, a ludicrously large cravat, and a bejeweled cane. His round face glistened from the climb, and his lips stretched into a grin that didn’t quite reach his calculating eyes.

Elenora Miren waited on the mansion’s front steps, her pale green gown flowing like a glacier under the evening sun. Her smile was porcelain, perfect and utterly fake. As Rykesh approached, she curtsied gracefully.

“Mr. Farlin,” she said, her voice a melody dipped in honey. “Your presence graces our humble estate.”

“Dearest Elenora!” Rykesh exclaimed, bowing theatrically and grabbing her hand to kiss it, lingering a beat too long. “I fear you overstate my significance—your beauty alone outshines every jewel in my coffers.” His eyes roamed over her figure unabashedly. “Ah, I could hardly sleep knowing I’d soon be in your captivating company.”

“You flatter me, sir,” Elenora replied with a soft chuckle, though her nails dug into her palms. “Come, the evening is brisk. Let us proceed inside.”

Inside the grand dining hall, the feast was laid out in all its glory: roasted game birds, spiced vegetables, and wine poured into goblets of polished silver. Elenora sat at the head of the table, her expression composed despite the cloying presence of Rykesh beside her.

“Well, my dear Elenora,” Rykesh said as he leaned toward her, “this banquet is a masterpiece, just like its host. Truly, you’ve spared no expense for little old me.”

“The prosperity of Tharvannis relies on mutually beneficial arrangements,” Elenora replied, steering the conversation back to business. “I trust we can finalize the agreements for the transport of levicite to the Rainshadow Isles. The next trade season is—”

“Ah, ah,” Rykesh interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “Business? Now? Surely we’ve earned one evening free of such tedium. Let us enjoy this magnificent feast.” His eyes lingered on her neckline, his smile oozing smugness. “Besides, I’d rather talk about something closer to my heart.”

Elenora’s lips twitched ever so slightly. She forced a serene expression as her hand gripped her goblet. “Of course. Your pleasure is my command.”

Rykesh’s laughter boomed. “Now that’s the spirit! Shall I propose a toast? To alliances, partnerships, and a future as bright as your enchanting eyes.”

The tension in Elenora’s jaw became almost imperceptible as she raised her glass. “To partnerships,” she said, her voice like glass ready to shatter.

As the meal dragged on, the doors to the dining hall creaked open. The soft murmur of servants and the clinking of silverware ceased. A tall, broad-shouldered man entered, his heavy boots echoing against the polished floor.

“Leontius Veyne,” Elenora said, rising gracefully to her feet, her tone laced with icy politeness. “What an unexpected... honor.”

Rykesh grinned, rising as well. “Ah, forgive me, my dear. I meant to mention—Lord Veyne is our guest of honor tonight. A man of his stature and cunning deserves a seat at our table.”

Leontius inclined his head toward Elenora, his stern face momentarily softening into a cordial smile. “Lady Miren,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I appreciate your hospitality.”

The three took their seats, and after the servants had refreshed the wine, Leontius leaned forward, addressing both of them. “I bring news,” he began, his eyes hardening. “Kael Torson is dead.”

The room fell silent.

“What?” Elenora asked, her usual composure faltering for a moment. “How?”

“His body was found in entrance at LCC,” Leontius said bluntly. “It appears he met a violent end. This, however, opens an opportunity—an empty seat on the Council of Four.”

Rykesh raised an eyebrow. “And you’d like to fill it, I presume?”

“Precisely,” Leontius said. “The Council needs strength and clarity, not the chaos that has seeped into its ranks. Ava Lyssan is the root of that chaos. The child may be cunning, but her vision is myopic. If she is allowed to continue unchecked, she will bring ruin to us all.”

Elenora tilted her head, her mind racing behind her composed expression. “What do you propose?”

“I propose we unite,” Leontius replied. “Remove Ava Lyssan from her position. I have the influence to claim Torson seat, and with your support”—he glanced at Rykesh—“we can stabilize the Council. No more childish scheming, no more reckless games. Order restored.”

“And what do you gain from this, Veyne?” Rykesh asked, leaning back in his chair.

Leontius’s smile was grim. “I gain the assurance that my people, my legacy, will not be trampled by the ambitions of a dying girl and you, her pawns. I have no interest in chaos; I seek only the preservation of what we have built.”

Elenora exchanged a glance with Rykesh. Though she detested the man, they both shared a common disdain for Ava Lyssan. Perhaps this alliance could serve her... for now.

“I believe,” Elenora said finally, her voice measured, “that we may find our goals aligned. But such decisions require deliberation. Shall we toast to the possibility of a stronger Council?”

Leontius raised his goblet. “To a Council of strength.”

Rykesh’s grin widened as he raised his glass. “And to partnerships, of course.”

Before raising her glass, Elenora spoke with a calculated air, her sly smile masking any true emotion.

"I might have some insight into why Kael Torson is dead," she said, her gaze flitting between Leontius and Rykesh, carefully gauging their reactions. "I don’t know exactly what brought him to the LCC that night, but he certainly wasn’t the intended target. A little bird under my command"—her tone dripped with mischief, though she carefully avoided revealing that the bird was Leontius’s own daughter—"was meant to ensure someone who could jeopardize our plans in Aeris would be there. I’m not sure why Torson showed up in place of that boy, but one thing is certain: Ava Lyssan is to blame. It was her direct order to deploy my bird in the first place."

Leontius grunted, his expression darkening as his hand clenched his glass.

"This only reinforces what I’ve been saying—we must deal with her," he declared, his deep voice carrying an ominous weight. "The next victims will undoubtedly be the two of you. For the future of our houses, Elenora—securing that alliance between our children—and for the good of commerce in the Earthlands, Rykesh, we must ensure she is stopped."

Elenora and Rykesh exchanged glances, both nodding in agreement.

Shortly afterward, Elenora excused herself, slipping away under the guise of needing a moment in the powder room. Once alone, she moved quickly, scrubbing every trace of the toxin from her skin. Thankfully, Rykesh hadn’t had the chance to touch her too much, and the little contact he’d made would likely result in nothing more than a pounding headache by morning—something he could easily dismiss as a hangover. The last thing Elenora needed was another Council member dying in her mansion tonight. If Leontius grew suspicious of her involvement, it would unravel everything she’d worked for.

She hurried back to the dining hall, her composure restored.

Upon her return, she found Rykesh slumped back in his chair, laughing like a fool, while Leontius was sprawled over the table, his head resting against his crossed arms.

"What happened here?" Elenora barked, her voice sharp with alarm.

Rykesh guffawed, raising his glass in a sloppy toast.

"Leontius plays the tough guy, but apparently he can’t hold his drink!" he said, his voice thick with mockery. "Not long after you left, he started swaying like a tree in a storm and then—bam!—he collapsed like a child. Guess the stiff old man doesn’t have much tolerance for a proper celebration."

"You absolute, colossal idiot," Elenora snapped, her voice a venomous hiss. She knew Leontius well—too well to believe he could be felled by a single drink. Her mind raced as realization dawned. "This is a trap!" she spat, turning on Rykesh just as his face began to pale.

The merchant blinked in confusion, his expression morphing from smugness to fear as he clutched at his throat. His skin turned a sickly shade of purple as he gasped for air, collapsing to the ground with a resounding thud.

"Two flies with one swat," came a low, gravelly voice from behind Elenora.

She spun around, startled, only to find herself seized from behind. Strong hands gripped her shoulders, immobilizing her. She craned her neck to see the one restraining her—it was the maid who had helped her earlier.

Without hesitation, the maid forced a vial of the same toxin Elenora had used against Rykesh to her lips.

"Drink up, Lady Miren," the maid whispered, her voice deceptively soft. "Your little birds don’t serve you anymore. We’ve found someone who pays much better."

Elenora struggled, but the liquid burned down her throat as the maid tipped the vial. Her vision blurred as the room spun around her.

Auren stood nearby, watching the scene unfold with an expression of detached amusement. In a single night, three of the Earthlands’ most influential figures had been wiped out before his eyes.

The look on his face spiraled into boundless madness as he looked the corpses before him.