CH661 Afternoon Parley II

***

"Brock Peyton has proven himself to be a dangerously greedy man. Greed, by itself, is not necessarily a big flaw—especially in a place like BloodIron. But greed without understanding one’s own limits and capabilities? That is a disaster waiting to happen."

Alex’s tone remained calm, but every word carried weight.

"Your continued association with him will not merely earn you more competitors. One day, it will earn you an enemy powerful enough that even you cannot afford to offend."

Lady Wintermere studied him for a moment.

"For example... you?" she asked.

"You may think of it that way," Alex replied with a nod.

Surprisingly, she did not laugh.

Instead, her expression turned sharper, more sceptical.

"Then let us stop speaking in circles, Young Master Fury. Who exactly are you, that you can make such a claim?" she asked.

"It is not so much about who I am," Alex replied, "but rather what I can do—and who my friends are. Those are the true threats to you at the moment."

"And what exactly is this ability of yours? And who are these friends you believe could threaten both me and the Drumvale Merchant Company?" Lady Wintermere asked.

She snapped her fingers once.

The butler appeared almost instantly, stepping into the room and releasing an oppressive pressure that descended heavily upon Alex.

Alex merely glanced at the middle-aged man with complete indifference.

"As expected... a Saint-level bodyguard," he said with a faint smile, sounding almost dismissive.

Compared to the saintly pressure Alex had endured while training under Jared, the butler’s aura might as well have been a soothing breeze.

The man’s pressure did not even carry killing intent. How could it possibly shake someone who had once stood beneath the killing intent of a Legend?

Lady Wintermere and her butler were both genuinely taken aback by how completely unfazed Alex remained. It was not merely that he controlled his expression well—he did not seem to feel even the slightest trace of fear.

Of course, Alex wasn’t just putting on a front of confidence.

Aside from being capable of enduring the butler’s pressure, he also possessed a trump card of his own—one that guaranteed his safety even if the man truly intended to act.

"Using your sainthood to bully a mere Gold Rank... are you not embarrassed?"

A somewhat gloomy voice suddenly echoed through the room.

Instantly, the atmosphere changed, as though the entire room had been submerged in pessimism, melancholy, and oppressive sorrow.

’Saint Domain!’

The butler’s eyes flashed sharply.

He immediately unfurled his own Saint Domain, pushing back against the new arrival’s oppressive field.

At some unnoticed moment, another person had entered the room and now stood behind Alex.

"BattleBane Guild Master—what is the meaning of this?" the butler asked coldly.

"I should be asking you the same question," the BattleBane Guild Master replied. "What is the meaning of trying to oppress an ally of my BattleBane Guild during a legitimate business negotiation? Is this how the Drumvale Merchant Company conducts itself?"

"And who are you to lecture a regional head of the Drumvale Merchant Company?" the butler shot back.

"That is enough."

A calm voice cut through the tension like a blade.

The BattleBane Guild Master and the butler both turned to look at Alex.

The young man met both of their gazes evenly.

"That is enough," he repeated, calm yet firm.

Without hesitation, the BattleBane Guild Master withdrew his pressure immediately.

The butler was clearly surprised—and more than a little confused—by the fact that the Guild Master obeyed Alex so readily. Still, after a brief pause, he also withdrew his pressure.

Suddenly, raised voices could be heard outside the room.

"You cannot go in there!"

The door was abruptly pushed open.

"Oh? Looks like I missed the interesting part."

The newcomer walked into the room without invitation, carrying himself as though he owned the estate.

"I apologise, my lady. We could not stop him without using force," the guard following behind him said hurriedly.

Lady Wintermere’s expression darkened slightly.

"What is the meaning of this, Raven Horn? Why is the Black Scar Syndicate barging into my residence?" she asked.

"My apologies, Lady Wintermere. I invited him here. I simply did not expect him to make his entrance so... rudely," Alex said.

He shot Raven Horn a sharp look, but the older man merely shrugged before casually taking a seat beside him.

With Raven Horn now seated at his side and the BattleBane Guild Master—a Saint—standing silently behind him, Alex became even more of an enigma in Lady Wintermere’s eyes.

"What exactly is this?" she asked coolly. "A threat?"

"Of course not." Alex shook his head calmly.

"You may simply view this as proof of my earlier claim. With the BattleBanes, I can match the combat power your Drumvale branch in BloodIron possesses. Meanwhile, the Black Scar Syndicate allows me to match your reach and influence."

Alex paused before leaning forward slightly, resting his forearms on his lap.

Then he continued.

"The man you have allied yourself with until now has changed. He has gone from being an asset to becoming a liability. I gave Brock Peyton an opportunity to settle any grievance between us peacefully, but he chose instead to spit in my face and escalate matters.

"The reason he was confident enough to do that... is because he believes he has your backing."

His tone remained even, but every word carried unmistakable weight.

"I am not here to threaten you. I came simply to inform you directly that when the walls begin collapsing around Brock Peyton, you should not interfere. Otherwise, I will have no issue dragging your entire branch into the mess he created—though I would strongly prefer to avoid such an unfavourable outcome for all of us."

Alex leaned back again.

"As I said before, between you and I, there is only business—not yet an irreparable grievance. Since I intend to take one of your cards off the board, I would rather replace it with something better... if you are willing to entertain the idea."

He turned towards Raven Horn.

Without a word, Raven Horn handed him a small pouch.

Alex opened it and calmly poured its contents onto the glass table between them.

The moment the items landed, both Lady Wintermere and her butler’s eyes sharpened.

Lady Wintermere’s breathing noticeably sped up subtly—but impossible to miss for everyone in the room.

"You have significantly increased your support for Brock Peyton in recent weeks, allowing him—among other things—to use your influence within the City Administration Building against me. It came to my attention that the reason behind that support has everything to do with Theolonium.

"I asked myself many times why a woman of your standing, poise, and intellect would allow a thug like Peyton to stain both your own name and that of your merchant company by permitting him to use your influence for such tasteless purposes. But eventually, I found the answer."

Alex’s gaze remained steady.

"It does not take much digging to discover that your branch has signed supply agreements with several Temples and members of the clergy regarding this resource. If that deal were to collapse, it would place your Demin Trade Shop in serious jeopardy. That is why I believe you have been forced to make so many concessions to Peyton."

He paused to assess Lady Wintermere’s expression before continuing.

"If that is indeed the case, then allow me to solve that problem for you. My proposal is simple—a quadripartite agreement. With myself acting as facilitator and mediator, the Black Scar Syndicate will provide the necessary Theolonium, along with any other resources the Lost Heathens currently supply to you.

"The BattleBane Guild will handle security for transportation throughout the Wildlands, while your Drumvale Merchant Company will oversee sales and distribution outside the Wildlands."

"This is my offer to you." He said.

Lady Wintermere remained silent for a moment before asking,

"And how exactly do you propose we divide the profits?"

***