I leaned back into the plush leather chair of my private office. The rich scent of a fine cigar lingered in the air, yet today, it failed to bring the usual satisfaction. The chandelier's crystal glow cast light upon the towering stacks of reports cluttering my desk. The progress of the "development project" in the Whispering Forest was moving according to plan… almost entirely.
"Almost." That was what troubled me. That incessant buzzing—like the droning of gnats and flies—growing louder by the day.
Malcor emerged from the shadows of the dimly lit room, silent as ever. His pallid face betrayed no emotion, but I knew he never came bearing good news.
"Speak," I commanded, not even bothering to look up from the map spread before me. "What of the meddling scholar?"
"Lady Meadowlight remains active, my lord," Malcor reported. "After being denied by the capital authorities, she has traveled to nearby villages—former Stonehand lands. She's been asking about their family history and the old legends tied to the Whispering Forest. It seems her suspicions now extend beyond mere deforestation."
I scoffed. "Legends? Superstitious fools and their fairy tales! But she's becoming more than just an annoyance." Her curiosity was treading dangerously close to real problems. She might not yet know the full truth, but her relentless digging into the Stonehand lineage and its connection to the forest could lead her too close to the core of our project—the one truth that must remain hidden.
"And the Stonehand boy?" I asked, tapping my cigar against a crystal ashtray. "Still drowning himself in liquor?"
"No longer, my lord," Malcor replied. "Kaelen Stonehand has begun speaking with villagers in taverns and markets, attempting to stir unrest against your rule and the matter of his stolen land. His group remains small, but… people are beginning to listen. His personal grievances could turn into a spark for something greater."
BANG! My palm slammed against the desk. "Enough!" My patience had worn thin. "This project is far too important to be obstructed by a pair of pests!" I inhaled deeply, forcing my temper back into control. Power required composure—not reckless rage.
"Malcor," I spoke, my voice steady but edged with finality, "it's time to escalate our measures."
"As for Lady Meadowlight… make her life difficult. Have our men disrupt her 'research.' Break a few belongings, spread rumors—make her seem like a madwoman, a radical dissenter. Isolate her. Undermine her credibility. Nothing overt—no blood, no scandal—but ensure she feels the consequences of her meddling."
I paused, my gaze piercing through the darkness where Malcor stood.
"As for the Stonehand boy… he requires a stronger lesson. Stage an incident—make it look like a simple mugging or a drunken brawl. Injure him just enough to make him reconsider his crusade. And let it send a message to those listening to him: siding with Stonehand is dangerous." I emphasized, "And all of this must be handled discreetly. No loose ends. Understood?"
"Yes, my lord," Malcor responded without hesitation.
"Good." I leaned back once more. "Never forget—the true objective within the Whispering Forest is far greater than timber or minerals. The dormant power at its heart… that is the treasure that will secure our dominion for generations. We cannot allow trivial obstacles to stand in our way."
I waved a hand dismissively. "Go."
Malcor bowed and melted back into the shadows, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my map. The pressure was rising, but I was Valerius Thorn. I had climbed my way to power by crushing every obstacle in my path. These two would be nothing more than dust beneath my boots.
Pouring a measure of aged brandy into a crystal glass, I took a slow sip. The heat of the liquor burned its way down, a reminder of my resolve. I would crush all resistance. I would take what was mine.
No matter what it took.