Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage Chapter 636: Fortuna Hostilities

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First and foremost, they focused on stabilizing individuals with fatal injuries.

Treatment for the gravest wounds only started once their lives were out of immediate peril.

Lesser injuries got bandaged up, with low-tier healing potions handed out to keep conditions in check—all to save as much mana as they could.

Scars could result from this approach, yet it guaranteed survival pending comprehensive healing.

In the interim, Eleanore—along with the unexpected Alex—channeled their skills toward the desperately wounded.

They'd barely wrapped up the direst treatments when Zora made her return.

Tension already gripped her features, but seeing the raiding party's dire state turned her face into a profound scowl.

"The city administration denied my request for expansion," she reported. "They also rejected my follow-up request to acquire a larger property."

"What reason did they give?" Alex asked.

"None," Zora replied. "I believe someone is targeting us."

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"And what led you to that conclusion?"

"While we were waiting, one of the administrative officers tried to sell us several larger properties," she explained. "He was unusually eager—almost desperate—for us to take them."

"After our expansion request was denied, I contacted him again to finalise a lease for one of those properties. We were close to concluding the deal—until someone approached him."

She paused briefly.

"After that conversation, his attitude changed completely. Suddenly, he had nothing available for us."

A cold glint flickered in Alex’s eyes.

Yet he maintained his calm demeanor.

He motioned to a nearby Fury Knight.

"Go and call Raven Horn," he instructed.

Raven Horn showed up just minutes later.

Upon entering the mansion, his eyes scanned the wounded, surprise flashing briefly across his face.

"Someone is targeting us," Alex stated bluntly.

He quickly summarized both events.

Raven Horn absorbed it all quietly, his face turning graver by the moment.

"Give me a moment," he said. "I’ll find out."

He left in haste.

By evening's return, he came back with a grave expression.

"The bandit group you eliminated..." he started, voice weighted, "...belongs to the Lost Heathens—one of the largest dark mercenary factions in the Wildlands."

"Dark mercenaries? Those suspected of banditry?" Alex asked.

"More like known to act as bandits on the side, but no one truly cares," Raven Horn replied.

"The Lost Heathens are fiercely protective of their reputation. So, you flying the banner of one of their units after wiping them out..."

He paused slightly.

"...let’s just say it didn’t sit well with them."

His tone deepened further as he pressed on.

"But the real issue is this—the leader of the unit you eliminated was the younger brother of the Lost Heathens’ leader, Brock Peyton."

Alex’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"So, this is a vendetta."

"Yes," Raven Horn confirmed with a nod.

A fleeting solemnity crossed Alex’s gaze.

Then he inquired,

"How large is the Lost Heathens? And more importantly—how do they have enough influence to interfere with the city administration?"

The city administration resisted easy manipulation.

A complex network of rival interests formed its core—founded on authority, riches, and shared gains.

No minor player could sway rulings on prime estate leases, particularly ones tied to the city's key income streams.

Money bred entrenched stakes.

And in the Wildlands, disruptions to those stakes always sparked retaliation.

"The Lost Heathens themselves are not that powerful in the grand scheme," Raven Horn explained.

"They’re roughly on par with the BattleBane group you had me investigate earlier."

He paused briefly before adding,

"However... they serve as the arms and feet of the Drumvale Merchant Company in the Wildlands."

Alex’s expression hardened.

Raven Horn had earlier supplied a thorough report on Verdantis's key forces.

Among the standout ones stood the Free City of Afordocia.

This trading hub had seized independence and held it firm against the avarice of neighboring empires.

Similar to BloodIron, Afordocia operated under a council.

Yet differing from BloodIron, its council comprised the city's top ten merchant conglomerates.

Undeniably, the mightiest trading powers throughout Verdantis.

The Drumvale Merchant Company ranked among them.

Beyond its status as one of the globe's richest trading firms, Drumvale notoriously sheltered Combat Saint–level powerhouses—

—the ultimate level of power right below the Combat Sages, who acted as unyielding pillars supporting empires and temples.

Provoking such a force was never to be taken lightly.

'I get it now... that explains why the city administration backed down so quickly,' Alex pondered silently.

Nevertheless, upon seeing his wounded men, a savage anger erupted deep inside him.

The flames roared intensely, ignited by the Furor facet of his bloodline.

"What do you intend to do?" Raven Horn inquired.

Before Alex could answer, Zora's subtle head shake caught his attention—a quiet entreaty.

Right then, a soothing, icy calm washed over him.

His bloodline's Auramir influence quelled the mounting rage.

Alex breathed out steadily.

'This goes beyond just me now. I can't let impulses guide me... not with so many counting on me.'

He gathered his resolve.

'Better to test a different path first.'

Holding back the raw hostility from his Furor heritage, Alex replied with composure.

"I understand Brock Peyton’s grief," he stated. "Let’s attempt diplomacy first. If this can be resolved with words rather than blades, that would be preferable."

His eyes shifted to Raven Horn.

"Can you arrange a meeting?"

Raven Horn eyed him briefly.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes," Alex affirmed with a resolute nod.

"Very well," Raven Horn agreed. "I’ll make the arrangements and report back soon."

He then vanished in haste.

Zora drew nearer.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I know that wasn’t easy for you. We’re in unfamiliar territory—we shouldn’t create powerful enemies before establishing our foundation."

Alex grasped her apprehension fully.

They could possibly triumph over Brock Peyton and his troops—yet that risked unleashing the Drumvale Merchant Company's fury, the powerhouse supporting him.

Settling it without violence would protect them from much direr fallout.

Still...

Alex harbored far less optimism.

He'd curbed his Furor bloodline's drives, but refused to disregard them.

'Diplomacy and military force serve as mutual tools,' he contemplated.

'Neither stands alone without the other's looming threat.'

As words of peace left his lips, cunning strategies began swirling in his head.

That same day, he met privately with Udara.

Shortly afterward, a scout team slipped silently from the mansion—its target and real mission privy only to Alex and Udara.

***