The Mayor

The moment I stepped past the gates, it was like entering another world.

The mayor’s estate was quiet—unnaturally so. The air smelled faintly of roses and citrus, a stark contrast to the stink of sweat, damp wood, and rot from the town beyond.

Smooth white stone lined the path, polished enough to reflect the sky. The garden on either side bloomed with flowers carefully chosen for appearance rather than scent.

Not a single weed.
Not a single wilted petal.
Not a single soul.

Servants likely worked at night. Or they were hidden—... like the dirt that had been swept beneath this town’s silken rug.

I kept walking, boots heavy against stone, each step echoing between the columns of the mansion ahead. Sebas followed at a measured pace, silent as always.

The building loomed before me, whitewashed, symmetrical, arrogant. Large arched windows. Golden door handles. Drapes too thick to let sunlight through.

I stared at my reflection in the glass as we approached. My black armor was scratched and dulled by the filth of the town. Ash clung to my cape. My helm gave back no face, only the faint glow of the ghostly blue fire at my collar.

I looked like a monster. A villain.

And yet here I was, about to confront the real one.

The doors opened before we could knock. A butler, elderly, too well-kept, bowed stiffly.

“The mayor is expecting you. This way, please.”

We were led through marble halls and beneath chandeliers that sparkled like icicles. Portraits lined the walls, generations of smug, well-fed faces in embroidered robes, each one more polished than the last.

None of them looked like they’d ever lifted a shovel, or stepped in mud, or smelled the sick stench of the lower town.

I didn’t belong here.
And neither did that little girl who cried in the alleyway.
Or that woman who couldn’t even say “thank you” without fear.

My armor creaked softly as I clenched my fists.

Finally, we were led to a tall door of dark oak. The butler knocked once before pushing it open.

“Lord of the manor, as summoned,” the butler announced.

The study doors opened with a theatrical sweep, and the scent of polished wood and spiced wine greeted me like a false smile.

Inside sat Mayor Harlon, dressed in embroidered velvet robes, a gold chain around his thick neck, and rings on every finger. He stood up as soon as he saw me, his face lighting up in mock delight, his arms flung open as if he were greeting an old friend rather than a stranger.

“Ah! The hero of the hour!” he bellowed, crossing the room with exaggerated steps. “The one who felled the Lich of the North! Remarkable, simply remarkable!”

He grasped one of my armored hands in both of his, squeezing it with performative enthusiasm. I didn’t return the gesture.

“Truly, your arrival is a blessing upon this land,” he continued, unfazed by my silence. “When word came that the manor had reawakened... well, we could hardly believe it. And now, here you are! In the flesh!”

Not quite. But sure.

He finally stepped back and gestured grandly toward a padded chair across from his pristine desk. “Please, sit! Relax! You must be tired after your journey. Can I offer wine? Fruit? I’ve had the chef prepare something exquisite.”

I didn’t move. I let him stew in his own voice.

“I hear you slew the lich with a single blow! yes?” he said, eyes gleaming with opportunism. “Rumors have already begun to spread, you know. The new lord who defeated a greater darkness. Oh, the drama of it. We’re lucky to have you, very lucky indeed.”

Lucky?

Lucky that I didn’t crush his skull the moment I saw what he allowed to fester in his town.

“I walked through your town,” I said coldly.

The mayor blinked but didn’t miss a beat. “Ah. Yes. I suspected you might take notice of our less... polished areas.” He sighed, folding his hands. “The truth is, we've been functioning without a formal lord for several years now. The region’s resources are stretched thin. Priorities must be balanced, and sadly, outer districts often bear the brunt.”

“A woman was being dragged off by an adventurer. She couldn’t even scream. The guards saw it. And laughed.”

That made him pause.

Then came a sad shake of the head and a rehearsed frown. “Tragic. Disgusting, even. But I must say, this is the reality of a borderland town with limited oversight. Without a noble’s presence, we have been forced to rely on adventurer guilds for manpower, and… they aren’t bound by knightly honor.”

“You’re the mayor.”

“And I’ve done all I can,” he replied, tone shifting subtly. “But I am a civil officer, not a military one. Discipline among the adventurers is notoriously difficult. We issue fines, we ban offenders from the guild... but enforcement requires authority.”

“You’re the mayor.”

“And you’re the lord,” he said, smoothly. “Or rather, you were meant to be.”

I tilted my head slightly. The flames at the seam of my neck stirred... hotter now, curling faint blue light along the edges of my armor.

“I beg your pardon?” I asked, voice low.

Harlon, unfazed, took a sip from a crystal glass.

“After your appointment by the crown, yes, I was notified, you were officially registered as the new lord of this land. You defeated the lich, yes, but then… you disappeared. Word was you fell into a coma. Weeks passed. Months. No one knew if you’d wake. In that vacuum, this town slipped further.”

He set the glass down with a delicate clink.

“I understand it wasn’t your fault. But the truth remains: there was no lord. No authority. Just me and what little sway I could wield. So yes, I accept blame for what’s happened… but should we not also acknowledge the silence from your side?”

The flames pulsed under my armor now, hot enough I could feel it through the steel.

“And yet,” I said, “you did nothing to prepare for my return. You let this filth breed like rats in a cellar. The people have learned to trust no one. Not their guards. Not their mayor. Not even a stranger who saves them.”

His smile returned... calculated now. “Trust must be earned, Lord Xeno. Or do you think the people will kneel simply because you wear black iron and carry a title?”

He leaned forward, voice dropping to a more intimate tone.

“Let me give you a small piece of advice, from one who’s held this town together: ruling isn't about swords or speeches. It's about control. Influence. Timing. If you plan to change things, you'll need more than fire and fury. You'll need me.”

Sebas took a step forward, but I raised a gauntlet slightly. I wasn’t done.

“You speak of holding things together. All I see is a dying beast too stubborn to notice it’s been bleeding for years.”

“Then bring it back to life,” he said with an elegant shrug. “Rebuild it. Burn what you must. But don’t pretend this rot was born yesterday, or that you had no part in letting it fester.”

I stared at him. A long silence followed.

Then I turned.

Sebas gave a courteous bow. “We thank you for your time, Mayor Harlon. My lord will reach out with requests for reports and administrative review in the coming days.”

Harlon’s voice floated after us, smugly warm.

“I look forward to it. After all, we’re on the same side now. Aren’t we?”

I didn’t answer. The flames in my neck danced in eerie silence.

As I turned to leave, I felt Sebas linger a step longer behind me. Then, slowly—silently—he looked up.

His usually unreadable gaze fixed itself on the mayor with cold intensity, like a blade unsheathed without a sound.

No smile.

No words.

Just a stare.

One that spoke volumes.

If looks could kill, the mayor would’ve been a corpse slumped over his crystal glass.

Harlon, sensing something, shifted in place and chuckled nervously, brushing his robes.

Sebas finally turned, following me out the grand doors, his silence heavy with intent.

The moment passed... but the warning had been delivered.

And it would not be forgotten...