Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage Chapter 638: Alston Family Elder Council II

CH638 Alston Family Elder Council II

***

Raven Horn stayed silent. He held his bowed, half-kneeling stance without the slightest motion.

"Enough, Sixth Elder. Admon is just carrying out the duty we gave him."

The Grand Elder's words held a subtle command.

"Tsk."

The Sixth Elder smacked his tongue but held back any more words.

The Grand Elder's gaze returned to Raven Horn.

"What plan does the Legatee have for dealing with this matter?"

Raven Horn replied instantly.

"He showed understanding—and sympathy—for Brock Peyton's bereavement. Instead of jumping straight to combat, he prefers to try talking first.

"He plans to meet Peyton and see if they can settle this clash via talks instead of fighting."

"What?"

Now the Seventh Elder voiced his shock.

"Is this Legatee an idiot? Does he really think a bandit boss in the Wildlands gives a damn about sorrow or family ties?"

Disgust laced his sharp words.

"This is all about regaining face. One of Peyton's squads—and his brother—got wiped out. Without offering concessions to salvage that guy's reputation, the Legatee can kiss goodbye to peace."

"And what signal does that send to his own people?" The Sixth Elder jumped in once more.

"Can you rely on a guy like that? Talking to a foe who's already struck first—instead of hitting back?"

"Hold on... no need to judge so quickly." The Third Elder cut in at last, his voice steady and faintly amused.

"What do you mean 'judging quickly'? The truth is obvious, Third Elder. You must see it too." The Sixth Elder shot back.

"Oh, is it?" The Third Elder let out a gentle laugh.

His eyes then fixed on Raven Horn.

"Admon, tell me—did the Legatee know anything about Brock Peyton or his group before today?"

His queries came one by one, each precise.

"How big is Peyton's outfit? What sway does he hold? Who backs him up?

"And above all... what's the real strength and scale of the Legatee's group?"

"The Legatee knew nothing of Peyton or his crew until I told him," Raven Horn stated.

"Thanks to ties with Drumvale, Peyton's built solid links in BloodIron's City Administration from low to mid levels. His pull isn't total, but it's enough to block and annoy the Legatee's crew."

He went on steadily.

"On power—Peyton's thought to be a Combat Master. He commands six—make that five now—others at that rank, mostly from Drumvale's support."

"His full manpower's unclear, but guesses put it near a thousand—not counting the disposable slave troops he throws in as meat shields."

"Meanwhile, the Legatee's key followers go from Gold Rank up to Combat Master... though they're few in number—just a small group."

Silence hung briefly.

The Third Elder then addressed them.

"Up against such odds—a foe with more troops, wealth, and hidden allies—would you charge blindly into war?"

He aimed the query right at the Sixth and Seventh Elders.

"You say he doesn't value his men," he pressed on evenly. "But I see the reverse in his moves.

"He prizes them too much to hurl them into a fight they're not ready for—one they might lose before it starts."

With a casual wave,

"They're outnumbered. Short on supplies. Lacking in clout. Plus, much of his team is probably still healing from wounds taken just hours back in that ambush."

His voice stayed even, yet resolute.

"To me, that's no fear. It's control. The Legatee seems like a cautious, thoughtful commander—not driven by rashness."

"Should we scorn that quality? Particularly in one we might serve under someday?"

"Wanting revenge makes sense," he added. "But at what price—more deaths in a fight stacked against you?"

A subtle grin played on his face as he eyed the rest.

"Plus... he's just trying talks. Who says that rules out striking back later?"

"That's," he wrapped up breezily, "...why I call it jumping ahead."

The Sixth and Seventh Elders gripped their fists under the table.

At best, the Third Elder sounded like an elder schooling the young.

At worst... a touch of superiority edged toward scorn.

Though the Third Elder possessed greater age and experience, they remained equals in principle—every member of the Elder Council.

At least, that's what the records showed.

The air within the chamber thickened with heavy tension.

"Cough."

The Grand Elder’s intentional cough broke the quiet, easing the rising strain.

"What request has the Legatee made?" he inquired, guiding the talk back to the main issue.

Raven Horn answered without delay.

"He has requested that the Black Scar Syndicate use its power to support and oversee the talks."

He continued, "He also asked me to give him every bit of info on Brock Peyton."

"He did not request info on Drumvale... or its agent in the Wildlands?" The Grand Elder’s voice shifted a bit.

"I offered it later," Raven Horn said. "But he turned it down—after a brief pause."

"Smart young man." The Grand Elder let out a hearty laugh, startling several elders there.

The Third Elder chuckled softly in agreement.

"He wants to avoid leaning too much on us—or owing us too much?" He cocked his head a little.

"Or maybe... he just doesn’t want to burden us. After all, digging into one of the richest merchant forces around isn’t a light task."

The Grand Elder nodded slowly in approval.

"Admon."

"Yes, Grand Elder."

"For this issue... you hold complete power to act in BloodIron."

The words landed with great weight.

"You don’t need to check with us before deciding."

Shock rippled across the room.

"Grand Elder!"

The Fourth, Sixth, and Seventh Elders cried out together, deeply worried.

"That’s sufficient."

The Grand Elder lifted a hand, quieting the rest.

"I get your worries. You’re afraid history might repeat—that we’ll trust an outsider wrongly again."

His eyes scanned the room.

"Yet, this person differs from the past ones. He’s the Ancestor’s chosen.

"So, it’s proper we do our part to give him a shot at his goal."

His voice turned steady.

"Like you all, I’m still doubtful. But we can’t cut ties fully—not before he proves himself.

"This... is the careful line we walk."

He placed his hands behind his back.

"If he can’t handle this even with our aid, then we’ll know."

"But if he pulls it off..." A slight smile formed. "We can offer more chances—slowly, under our control—until he shows his true value... or his breaking point."

"But if he climbs to the peak—do I need to explain further?"

"The Grand Elder is wise." The elders replied nearly together, their nods quick—whether from true belief... or caution.

In reality, even though the neo-Alston family ran under an Elder Council after the Alston Imperial line fell, all in the room knew the real power’s source.

It wasn’t in group votes, as most outsiders thought.

True authority lay in the Grand Elder’s will.

This was a council only by name. In truth, it resembled a patriarchy—with the Grand Elder ruling supreme.

With his ruling set, opposition had no space left.

So, the issue concluded, and the gathering ended.

Just in time.

The berserk stones had faded a lot, and the talismanic field’s stored energy was almost spent.

One after another, the figures vanished—leaving the chamber in quiet darkness.

Raven Horn let out a breath at last.

A soft, easing sigh.

’I really hate dealing with these plotting old foxes...’

He stood tall, loosening his rigid body before heading to the door.

Soon after, he exited the chamber—and the villa via the hidden path.

Now with fresh power in hand, he prepared to kick things off.

***