The realization that I was responsible for the deaths of my parents, Tamara and Maggie, settled on my shoulders like a crushing burden. If I had been smarter—if I'd offered them even the slightest protection or chance to defend themselves—maybe it could have been avoided. But I chose to do nothing, because I didn't believe anyone would specifically target them.
In the end, I have no one to blame but myself. There can't be a second time. So, as soon as I return to Paris, Fleur, Isolde, and Hermione will each receive a collection of protective artifacts from me. I won't pretend they don't already have some, but I'll do everything in my power to strengthen them.
The information Maria provided was incredibly helpful in planning the attack. Since Otto the Sixth wasn't residing in Neuschwanstein at the time, I didn't have to worry about damaging a site of great cultural importance. For Muggles, that castle holds deep historical and cultural significance.
"What else can you tell me about it?" I asked Maria.
"Otto the Sixth is supposed to meet with several of his people to discuss some kind of plan for further action," she replied immediately. "It's hard for me to say exactly what those plans might be… Forgive me, my lord."
"It's alright," I nodded. "You did well to gather this much information. Take me to their meeting place."
The location turned out to be a small palace built in a severe, hard-edged German style. It was called Hogenhalt Palace, which had been mentioned several times in A History of Magic as the site of significant decisions. It stood amidst vast, emerald-green valleys under a breathtakingly dark blue sky.
The palace itself had been carved from roughly hewn granite. Its surface gleamed faintly in the sunlight. The sharp, angular lines were as aggressive as they had been in ancient times, when the structure was first built. Surrounding it were six tall spires, each crowned with a sturdy slate-tiled roof. Every tower was designed to serve as a combat post for mages in the event of an attack.
Encircling it stretched a garden as beautiful as it was deadly. At first glance, the plants appeared ornamental—but that would be a fatal mistake for any untrained intruder. Even from afar, I recognized over a dozen species capable of causing serious harm to a wizard without the proper preparation. Only battle mages undergo that kind of training—and even then, not all survive. Fortunately, I don't need to worry—I have the skills to navigate the garden through several possible paths.
I could destroy the palace outright, erasing it along with part of the mountain and garden from existence—but I'm haunted by a strange, burning desire to look Otto in the eye, say a few warm and heartfelt words… and then destroy him.
"All right, I'm going in," I told Maria.
The demoness bowed her head in obedience, though I could sense her deep desire to join me and turn this into a proper bloodbath. But since I planned to use the Veil, she would only be in the way—and might even get caught in the crossfire.
Descending the mountain on my broom, I stopped at the gate, an exquisite work of wrought iron. Several heraldic crests adorned it, clearly marking the land's ownership. Someone had already spotted me—I saw a lone head briefly peeking through one of the arrow slits. Moments later, a wizard in a blue uniform emerged from a side door, watching me warily. His expression brimmed with suspicion, but he hadn't made a move against me—yet.
Before he could say a word, I quickly broke through his Occlumency defenses and began refining his thoughts. He needed to let me through without raising any alarms.
"Ahh," he said in German, dragging out the syllable. "It's you, Herr Knüdelmaier. Please, go right in."
"Much appreciated," I replied.
I moved forward at once, simultaneously casting an illusion over myself to match Knüdelmaier's physique and face. I'd extracted all the necessary visual details from the guard's mind. I could've learned more about my disguise by lingering longer inside his head, but that would've been risky and suspicious. So I exited his mind, ensuring I replaced his memories of me with a fabricated encounter with an illusory Knüdelmaier.
Because I now had access granted by the guards, none of the palace's defense spells activated—which was a relief. The quieter my infiltration, the better.
After passing through the door, I entered a luxurious corridor branching off in multiple directions. What caught my attention were the paintings—some ordinary, others animated portraits of the estate's former owners and notable wizards connected to the palace. Occasionally, I noticed paintings of animals running through golden fields, snowy mountains, or swimming in crystal-clear waters.
If I'd had more time, I would've studied them closely. They were crafted with remarkable skill—easily worthy of exhibition in an art gallery, if the current owner weren't still alive. Luckily for me, that status was about to change.
I stopped in front of a closed door, guarded by two mercenaries I'd already encountered. Funny how lucky they were. I dropped the disguise, and they recognized me immediately. It was amusing to watch them exchange uneasy glances, clearly uncertain what to do.
"Mister," one of them said with a slight bow, "may we leave our post?"
"Of course," I nodded. "But I'd suggest you go far. My people will let you through—you won't even see them."
At the same time, I sent a mental command to Maria not to touch them. Let them go—I need to keep my karma somewhat balanced. If I run into them a third time, then I'll gut their minds and decide afterward what to do with the leftovers.
"Yes, we understand," the first mercenary replied. "Well, we're off then…"
They bolted down the corridor at impressive speed. I watched for a moment, tracking their minds as they ran and alerted the other guards. If they don't make it off the property in time—well, that's not my fault.
Inhaling and exhaling slowly, I pushed the door open.
It creaked loudly as it swung wide, revealing the hall's interior. Every face turned toward me. Some registered surprise, others anger or disdain. The emotional atmosphere was unmistakably hostile—no one was pleased to have their little gathering interrupted.
"Who are you?" a woman asked in French.
I didn't answer. Instead, I turned my back to them and shut the door. A light touch—and then a sealing spell flared to life, locking the door so thoroughly that no one would get out without causing major destruction.
"I asked you a question!" she shouted, raising her wand. "Who are you?!"
"A horse in a coat," I said, deciding to joke. "Otto, I came to talk."
"Timothy Jody," came a rather unpleasant voice.
Otto the Sixth didn't look like a powerful wizard—nor did he appear intimidating. Well… he was imposing, but only because of his sheer size. He was more wide than tall, shaped like an oval. His small, fat-swollen eyes studied me with keen interest, but there was no fear in them. No panic, either. Emotionally—nothing. It didn't even occur to him that I might incinerate him for everything he'd done to me.
"Didn't expect this. Not at all," he said. The rest of his entourage instantly fell silent, then began whispering among themselves, exchanging whatever scraps of information they had about me. "But… this is a pleasant surprise. Care to join us at the table?"
"I'll pass," I said, meeting his gaze. A faint flicker of irritation sparked in his eyes—it's a breach of etiquette to stare a king in the eye. But I didn't care. "I'm here for something else."
"What about?" he asked, shifting in his chair. It creaked violently, as if warning it might collapse under the weight of this hog.
"I'd like to discuss your mercenary's actions in London," I said calmly. His entourage began murmuring again, disapproving and offended—because I hadn't used his title, my tone was too blunt, and I'd violated a dozen other petty expectations that tend to offend the bloated elite.
"Ahh!" he drawled, as if trying to recall. "That Russian… what was his name? Andrei!"
"He killed people who were dear to me," I stated plainly.
"Some Muggles?" he scoffed. "There were four of them, right? Yeah?"
I said nothing.
"Here—four Knuts for you," he sneered, tossing the coins at me.
That final act sealed his fate.
I picked up the coins, looked at them… then clenched my fist. In the next instant, hundreds of lightning bolts erupted from my body, striking down everyone in the room—except Otto. Screams, shrieks, and a blinding flash of light. A moment later, I absorbed a dozen souls. The power they gave me was negligible—barely worth acknowledging.
"I don't think you quite understand what's happening," I said. I didn't even need to move my hand—he was slammed against the wall by an invisible force. He slid to the floor and tried to rise, but a sharp kick to the ribs made sure he stayed down.
Still holding the coins, I transfigured them into molten, glowing metal. It didn't harm me—my hands were already shielded. Just as he tried to rise again, another spell stretched his arms and legs out wide and locked them in place.
"What are y—"
He didn't finish the question—because I began pouring the molten metal straight down his throat.
"Kkh-ha-hha!" he choked, trying to speak, but it's hard to form words with a scorched throat.
"What's the matter? Don't like the taste?" I asked, mockingly sympathetic. "No? Pity."
I transfigured even more molten metal and kept pouring, forcing it down into his stomach. A few carefully chosen medical spells kept him alive and conscious. The bouquet of pain he experienced was… exquisitely beautiful.
But like all human bodies, his couldn't endure it for long. Eventually, his soul and spirit slipped free. I absorbed the soul, barely feeling any increase in strength. A faint flicker of satisfaction from revenge stirred… then slowly faded. It still wasn't enough.
Turning away, I activated the Veil of Death. A black wave rippled outward in every direction, annihilating all life in its path. A moment later, I halted its spread and pulled it back under control.
***
Maria sat on a stone ledge, listening intently to the conversation between the two mercenaries who had managed to escape the punishing hand of her master.
"I'll say it again," said the older mercenary in a tired voice. "You don't doubt the words of a wizard at that level. If he says he'll kill us if we don't back off, then we'd better believe him."
"But what about our protection contract?" the younger one asked, finally beginning to relent. Though it wouldn't be fair to call him inexperienced—he, too, understood that powerful wizards don't make idle threats. He just couldn't wrap his head around what kind of spell Timothy Jody could cast to destroy such a massive area and still walk away untouched.
"Ah," the older mercenary waved a hand dismissively. "Sure, as part of the Swiss Guard we're not supposed to abandon our post voluntarily, but on the other hand… I don't know about you, but I'd still very much like to stay alive."
"Look!" the younger one exclaimed suddenly, pointing toward a black sphere erupting from the hall where all the distinguished guests had gathered. In the next instant, it blanketed the entire palace grounds—and extended several dozen meters beyond.
"What is that?"
The black sphere vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. But it left behind a chilling sensation… like Death itself had briefly passed through the world.
"I don't know—and I don't want to know," the older mercenary replied. "Now come on, let's get the hell out of here."
"Yeah, I'm with you on that."
Both of them leapt onto their brooms and shot off into the distance. Maria watched their shrinking figures and shook her head. She couldn't disobey her master's command, so she had allowed the mercenaries to leave. Pushing the thought aside, she focused on trying to understand what kind of magic that black sphere had been. Her senses didn't just scream danger—they howled, urging her to flee as far and as fast as possible. She had never experienced anything like it.
At that moment, a realization struck her—if it hadn't been for the other wizards present at the World Championship, he could have wiped out all the attacking demons without even breaking a sweat. Her master's power was even more overwhelming than she had believed.
And that realization stirred something in her—deep, hot, and primal. It made her very excited.
She couldn't help but fantasize about her master taking her right then and there.
***
After wiping out everyone in the palace, I allowed myself a brief moment of relaxation. Now, there was only silence around me—and countless corpses. My spell had spared no one. To avoid wasting time, I transfigured a few golems to clear the palace grounds of the bodies. For disposal, I created a fire golem—one that burned hot.
"Get to work," I commanded, then turned and returned to Maria.
It was hard not to sense her arousal. Clearly, the sight of my enemies' destruction had seriously excited her.
"Maria, what about the mercenaries?" I asked, bringing her back down to earth.
"They're gone," she replied. "I didn't pursue them, just as you ordered."
"Good," I nodded.
"My lord, are you satisfied with this revenge?" she asked, full of hope—clearly fantasizing that I might take her here and now.
"Not yet," I shattered her rosy illusion. "I still need to remind the goblins that playing with fire leads to nothing good."
"Excellent, my lord," she said. "What do you intend to do?"
"It's very simple," I replied, a wicked smile spreading across my face. "I'm going to make them pay for everything they've done. But I'll do it in such a way that they never forget me. I want to become their living nightmare."
"Oh, that sounds so hot," Maria murmured, visibly aroused again. "Forgive me, my lord."
"No, no," I chuckled. "Actually, I've got a task for you."
"Really?" She snapped back to focus, immediately alert.
"I need you to scout these coordinates," I said, transmitting the locations of goblin settlements I'd acquired back in Corsica directly into her mind. "I want to know if those settlements are actually there, or if the intel is garbage."
"What should I do if it turns out to be false?"
"Report back to me immediately, and I'll give you new orders," I replied after a moment of thought. "And again—no one must detect you. Be careful. The goblins might have traps or alert mechanisms to catch enemy scouts."
"You needn't worry, my lord," she said confidently. "This will be a perfect opportunity to test my skills."
"Good," I nodded. "Do not provoke the goblins. If they detect you and begin a chase, only then are you allowed to eliminate them. If there's no pursuit, maintain surveillance—but from a greater distance. Understood?"
"Yes, my lord," the demoness nodded. "It will be done exactly as you command."
"Perfect," I nodded to her. "In the meantime, I'll begin cleaning up Otto's entourage. They should be scattered across various countries in Europe."
Tracking down the aristocrats I was interested in wasn't particularly difficult. After analyzing Otto the Sixth's memories, I had everything I needed—where they were, how closely tied they had been to the late king's plans. Those who had opposed Otto's scheme, I intended to spare. The ones who supported it—absolutely not.
It was simple: locate the so-called "loyalists" and use the Veil of Death. Then move to the next, and the next, until every major name across various countries was wiped off the board.
Some might call me a maniac for this—but driven by vengeance, I didn't care. I wanted everyone who played even the smallest role in this to burn—to be erased. And I was making that happen.
It was surprising to discover that some of my old acquaintances from the days of the Transfiguration Olympiad came from families who had opposed Otto's plan. The Sharmackens and the Mendosas, for instance, had been outspoken critics—an unpopular stance that had recently earned them the disdain of many European aristocrats.
That caught my attention—especially the Sharmackens. I remembered Maria from that family all too well: a skilled manipulator and the very spark that had ignited my conflict with Bolshanov. Her family hadn't been particularly active in the political chaos within the French Ministry of Magic, which meant the recent upheavals hadn't hit them as hard. Only the goblins' withdrawal had left a mark—like many others, they had lost ancestral treasures and much of their savings. What surprised me even more was that Maria had never written or approached me—not even once. I might have even agreed to help her, a little.
Finding the Sharmacken estate was child's play. The information had been right there in Otto the Sixth's memories. I Apparated to the front gates after finishing off one of the noble families in Bulgaria who had fiercely supported Otto, hoping to install their own rule in the country.
"How may I help you, monsieur?" asked a house-elf who appeared with a soft pop. He didn't look too bad, though signs of self-punishment were evident—his bandaged hands gave it away.
"Tell the household that Timothy Jody has come to speak," I said.
"Of course, monsieur," he replied with a bow. "I shall inform them this very moment."
The elf vanished, and I took the opportunity to observe my surroundings with interest. The estate was located in the southwest of France, near the Spanish border. The landscape was beautiful, and the mild air suggested that harsh winters were rare here.
"Monsieur," the elf reappeared, "the masters will gladly receive you and discuss any matters of interest. Please, follow me."
He extended his hand. I took it, and in an instant, we Apparated inside the house.
Standing before me was the entire Sharmacken family currently residing in the estate. It was impossible not to recognize Maria—she looked even more stunning than she had during the Olympiad. Her parents greeted me with a mix of interest and slight apprehension, clearly unsure what my visit might entail. I also noticed Maria had two younger brothers, both eyeing me with curiosity. Their mother had clearly rushed them into something resembling formal wear, but with only a minute to prepare, there wasn't much they could do.
"Monsieur," the head of the family was the first to speak. "I'm pleased to welcome you to my home. My name is Markel Sharmacken, and this is my wife, Isabelle Sharmacken. These are my sons, Marc and Maximilian, and of course, our daughter, Maria."
"Timothy Jody," I returned the greeting with a nod.
"May we offer you something?" Isabelle asked politely.
"I wouldn't mind some herbal tea," I said. "Preferably cold. Nothing refreshes quite like high-quality chilled tea."
"Oh, of course—right away!" she chirped, then hurried off down the corridor toward the kitchen.
"Monsieur Markel, perhaps we shouldn't linger in the hallway?" I suggested. "The foyer isn't exactly ideal for a conversation."
"Ah, yes—my apologies," he said, catching himself. "Please, follow me. Should my children be present for this discussion?"
"Let the little ones head off to bed," I said, waving it off. "But Maria should stay. It'll do her good to hear what I have to say. Don't you agree, monsieur?"
"Why, of course," he replied immediately. "That's a very wise idea. And Marc and Maximilian do need their rest—it's the middle of the night, after all."
He quickly sent the boys off to their rooms and then led the way to the sitting room. It wasn't the largest room in the house, but it was cozy enough for a proper conversation between two parties.
A few moments later, Isabelle returned, carrying a tray with chilled cups of tea. Naturally, she handed the first one to me, then to her husband, then to Maria, and finally took one for herself.
"Would you care for anything else, monsieur?" she asked.
"No, thank you," I replied with a polite nod.
A quiet silence began to stretch out. No one touched their tea until I took the first sip. To avoid making them too nervous, I took a small sip and let the cool flavor spread across my tongue.
"Ooooh," I murmured. "Not bad at all."
That seemed to ease the tension. The Sharmackens relaxed just a bit. If I liked their tea, perhaps they wouldn't be killed on the spot—at least, that's how their thoughts appeared to go.
"What do you know about my conflict with Otto the Sixth?" I asked, beginning the real conversation.
"You had a dispute over who is the rightful ruler of Corsica. Let me assure you," Markel said, raising his voice slightly, "we fully recognize you as the legitimate sovereign of Corsica. Beyond that, we heard that Otto died some time ago."
"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Though we're only distantly related to him, our family tree still traces back to him," Markel explained. "And just recently, his portrait on the tree went dark—which signifies death. Along with his, a few other portraits of wizards we're related to also went out."
"I see," I nodded. "And what do you make of that?"
"Nothing," Markel answered immediately. "Monsieur was well within his rights to resolve matters of personal safety and revenge however he saw fit. It's not for us—the Sharmackens—to judge. For your information, we opposed Otto's Corsican plan from the very beginning."
"I know," I nodded. "If it had been otherwise, we wouldn't be sitting here, sipping this excellent tea."
I let out a soft chuckle, watching their reactions carefully. It was clear they had relaxed a little more after that comment. They understood that, at least for now, no one was going to die.
"I've already eliminated everyone who strongly supported that plan," I said calmly. "No one was spared."
Both Markel and Isabelle went pale.
"And rightly so," Markel forced out. "I'd have done the same in your place—if I had that kind of magical power."
I nodded, accepting the compliment.
"Well then," I continued, "would you be interested in participating in the division of the destroyed families' assets?"
"Division," in this case, meant plundering. Everyone in the room understood that, and Markel instantly stiffened—like a dog hearing the word fetch.
"What would we need to do?" he asked immediately. "What's the price?"
"Think it over," I said with a quiet chuckle.
Markel paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the implications. Isabelle, ever the dutiful wife, remained silent, waiting to hear what her husband would decide. Maria, likewise, had said nothing—no one had given her the floor yet.
"My king," Markel said suddenly, rising from his chair, "I am ready to swear my loyalty to you, as my sovereign, right here and now."
"Explain," I replied calmly.
"The king is dead—long live the king," he declared, his voice laced with theatrical flair. "Otto was a bastard who never deserved the royal regalia. But you, monsieur Timothy Jody—you killed him and crushed the families who supported him. That alone is a claim to the throne. If it is your will, and you accept my oath, I will immediately send word to the other noble houses. Together, we could make you the new king of the German Empire."
"Well," I mused, "that actually sounds… quite good."
"In addition," he added, "my daughter would make an excellent lover."
A quick glance at Maria revealed she had no objection to her father's suggestion. Curious. A light touch to her mind—subtle enough that no one would notice—revealed the truth: she had never abandoned her ambition to climb to the very top of the magical world. In her mind, becoming my mistress would instantly skyrocket her status in the hierarchy. Pure calculation.
"Explain," I said gently, wanting to hear whether Markel's thoughts aligned with hers.
"I understand there was some conflict between you and her during the Transfiguration Olympiad," Markel began, "and for that reason she cannot be your queen. But I hope you'll forgive her youthful foolishness and accept her as your mistress."
"Alright," I nodded. "You'll learn my decision soon."
They exhaled in relief. The fact that I hadn't rejected their offer outright was already a positive signal. For me, accepting the proposal was more about justice—because she had once sicced her lapdog on me, which ultimately ignited the very conflict we were all now living through. Still, I couldn't blame her entirely for the escalation—with so many deaths. That didn't mean I wouldn't take my revenge.
And the idea of using her body freely, without restriction, offered a special kind of satisfaction to my hunger for vengeance. So yes—I wouldn't mind tumbling her in bed.
Having made my decision, I stood.
"Well then, my friends," I said to the Sharmackens in a much friendlier tone, "it's time I moved on. I trust, Monsieur Markel, you won't forget to convene the Aristocratic Assembly?"
"Of course, my king," he replied. "Do you wish to receive my oath now? Or later?"
"Later," I told him. I wanted to give them a chance to seek out a "better" candidate and present him to me—also, this would serve as a small test to see just how committed they were to accepting a new monarch. So far, it seemed Markel and his wife were willing to move mountains to ensure their family's survival. And I had to respect that.
Leaving their estate, I headed toward the next family that interested me.
The Mendosas lived in a large fortress perched atop a modest mountain, looming over the surrounding land like a dragon watching its territory.
Stopping in front of the massive door, I examined their family crest with interest. It was a semi-circular shield, about half a man's height. On its surface were two triangles with their tips touching. The triangles were composed of green and red lines, all set against a yellow background.
There were two ways to contact the lords of the fortress: the first, an iron ring attached to a handle for striking a metal plate; the second, a magical signaling system.
Like any self-respecting wizard, I chose the latter.
Activating the magical signal was simple. All it took was disrupting one of the control circuits.
The sound was instantly transmitted to one of the control towers, where a few wizards were tasked with receiving initial contact and reporting to the lord of the fortress.
I didn't have to wait long. A magical window formed in front of me, and through it appeared a sleepy, not particularly pleased face. The man rubbed his eyes and asked in Spanish:
"Who are you?"
"Timothy Jody," I introduced myself. Otto the Sixth had known Spanish, and since I'd analyzed his knowledge, I now spoke the language fluently.
The man rubbed his eyes again, now studying me more carefully. For a moment, the magical window vanished—though I could feel him quickly consulting some kind of registry. Then, a flicker of fear appeared in his emotions.
"Señor Jody," he said through a newly opened magical window, "please wait just a moment. I'll open the gate for you right away."
"Please," I said, stepping back a few paces.
The gate began to open slowly, revealing several faces watching me intently. They were guards, observing with interest and wariness. Internally, they weren't pleased about being disturbed in the middle of the night—but their expressions showed only politeness and eagerness to serve. In truth, they were afraid. They knew well what had happened to many other noble houses.
"Señor," the head guard greeted me, "Señor Pedro, Señorita Carmen, and Señorita Lucia will be ready to receive you shortly."
"Very well. I'll wait," I nodded.
But the wait was brief. Clearly, the Mendosas were eager to meet with me. They arrived quickly, smiling broadly. Still, I could sense that Pedro and Carmen would have much preferred to be asleep. Lucia, on the other hand, was genuinely happy to see me.
"Señor," Pedro was the first to speak, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you. We've heard a great deal about you."
"Thank you," I replied. "It's good to meet you as well, even if the hour is a bit late."
"Oh, not at all," Pedro said quickly. "Please, allow us to invite you into the fortress for a glass of fine wine."
"I won't say no," I nodded.
Inside, the fortress interior was simple—even austere. The hall we entered was close to the entrance, so there wasn't much walking involved. A table had already been set with several glasses, along with a large platter of sliced meats, cheeses, and assorted fruits.
We settled into our chairs.
"So then, what was it you wanted to discuss, Señor?" Pedro asked, getting straight to the point.
"What are your thoughts on Otto's plans?" I asked in return. Of course, I already knew they hadn't supported him—but I wanted to hear it from them directly.
"We were against it," Pedro said. "That plan was idiotic from the very beginning."
"I'm glad you were smarter than so many others," I said, lifting a glass of wine. It was chilled and quite pleasant—slightly sweet, slightly bitter.
"Señor... did you really destroy them?"
"Wiped them off the face of the earth."
"What are your plans now?" Pedro asked.
"I was just recently at the Sharmackens'," I said slowly. "You know them, of course."
"Oh, do we ever," Lucia scoffed at last.
"And what did they say?" Pedro asked.
"They offered to make me the next king of the German Empire."
"Well, now that's something," Pedro said, surprised. "And you, señor—do you even want that?"
"I don't mind," I shrugged. "But truth be told, I'm more interested in the study of magic and magical sciences."
"Hm," Pedro murmured, thoughtful. Then again, "Hmmmm."
I stayed silent, sipping my wine and enjoying it. The fruit was good. The meat and cheese didn't tempt me—for now. Lucia kept watching me, as if she wanted to say something but was holding back, careful not to let the others catch on.
I could've used mental magic to speak with her directly—but at the moment, I had no real desire to. Or perhaps... I might just speak to her openly.
"What else did they offer?" Pedro asked.
"Sharmacken offered his daughter as my mistress," I said with a dry chuckle.
Lucia tensed. She wanted to respond, but stayed silent.
"Well now…" Pedro said, surprised. "Señor, may I ask—what would you offer us in exchange for our support at the Council of Houses?"
"I wouldn't mind if you claimed some of the property left behind by the destroyed families," I said. "What do you say?"
"Well, that actually sounds… very reasonable," Pedro exhaled after a moment of consideration. "But I would like some assurance that you wouldn't use that as leverage against us—or as a way to do us harm."
"Listen," I said, drawing the word out slightly, "I have no desire to bring destruction to anyone. But the moment someone becomes a threat to me or to the people I care about… there won't be a place in the world left to hide."
"How fortunate, then, that we have no plans of becoming enemies," Pedro chuckled. "Alright, in that case—we'll support your candidacy at the Assembly. I'm sure the smaller houses will also be quite willing to back you."
"Excellent," I said, nodding with satisfaction. "Thank you."
"Do you already have any plans, señor?"
"Not yet," I replied calmly. "There are still other matters I need to deal with."
"Understood. Would you care to stay with us for the rest of the night?"
"Thank you for the offer—but I'll have to decline."