Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage Chapter 660: Afternoon Parley I

CH660 Afternoon Parley I

***

The following day, Alex departed the Fortuna mansion discreetly, utilizing the hidden tunnels.

He emerged within a tailor’s establishment on the city's outskirts, where he donned attire far more formal than his typical wardrobe.

His usual roguish noble persona was shed, replaced by a prim, polished, and proper Verdantian noble style—a transformation he visibly disliked.

’Ah… the lengths one must go to for secrecy and discretion,’ Alex lamented dramatically to himself.

Upon exiting the tailor’s shop, a waiting carriage was prepared for him, into which he entered without drawing undue attention.

The carriage proceeded quietly through BloodIron’s thoroughfares, attracting minimal notice… until its arrival at the esteemed Banshee Estate, situated in the city’s central district, where the estate's butler personally greeted him.

The butler escorted Alex through the expansive estate and into a welcoming, comfortable meeting chamber.

"The Lady will join you momentary," the butler announced.

With a respectful bow, he quietly exited the room.

Alex surveyed the meticulously designed space.

The tasteful decor fostered the ambiance of a private salon, intended for close companions and family rather than the setting for a high-stakes business negotiation.

’Is the aim to lower the other party’s defenses?’ Alex pondered.

’Well, considering they are a merchant house, it is scarcely surprising. In truth, this approach is quite subdued compared to other tactics they might have employed.’

Nonetheless, it provided him with a subtle intimation of the individual he was about to encounter.

Alex remained standing as he moved towards the window, gazing out over the cityscape below.

Any observers familiar with both him and Earl Drake Fury might have mistaken him for his father in that precise moment.

Alex had unknowingly adopted the exact same stance his father often assumed when observing the City of Ashes from his office window.

His mind was preoccupied with contemplating the chain of consequences and subsequent actions stemming from the moves he had already initiated, rendering him oblivious to his surroundings.

A few minutes later, the door opened with a soft click.

Alex perceived the entrance of a woman through the reflection in the windowpane.

"Greetings, Lady Wintermere," he stated, turning to face her with perfectly composed bearing.

"And to you, Captain—or perhaps I should address you as Young Master Fury," the woman responded, returning the salutation with equal poise.

"Young Master? You jest, my lady. I am merely the commander of a modest mercenary company," Alex replied with an amiable smile.

"There is no need for pretense, Young Master Fury. I have encountered numerous nobles throughout my life. The inherent grace you possess is not easily replicated by an imposter," Lady Wintermere stated calmly.

Alex merely maintained his smile, offering neither confirmation nor denial.

"Very well, then. I shall not inquire further. I understand you have your reasons, and I doubt they are relevant to the purpose of our meeting today," Lady Wintermere continued.

She gestured elegantly towards the two sofas arranged opposite each other across a glass table—a subtle yet undeniable display of affluence.

"Please, let us be seated."

Alex inclined his head, and they both took their respective seats.

As if prearranged, the moment they were seated, the door opened, and the butler reappeared, guiding a maid with a cart laden with refreshments.

Neither Alex nor Lady Wintermere paid them much mind, instead silently observing and appraising each other as the maid set up the table.

Lady Wintermere appeared to be a woman in her forties—middle-aged, yet maintaining an aura of effortless elegance. She wore minimal to no makeup, yet her beauty was striking.

The flawless texture and radiance of her skin, coupled with the refined nature of her appearance, clearly indicated exceptional—perhaps even rigorous—self-care.

Her posture and demeanor bespoke someone raised in noble circles.

’No… more precisely, someone who has undergone such extensive, top-tier etiquette training that she could pass for nobility without question,’ Alex mused internally.

The maid concluded her task, placing an empty cup before each of them.

"Thank you," Alex expressed with a polite smile.

The maid blushed subtly and quickly withdrew in silence. The butler also offered a bow before departing, closing the door behind him.

Lady Wintermere reached for the pitcher and poured a drink for both individuals.

To Alex’s slight surprise, the beverage was milk.

Without a word, she gently slid a small second jar towards him—a jar of honey.

Alex’s gaze flickered momentarily.

Lady Wintermere settled back into her seat, calmly beginning to drink her milk unadulterated.

Alex observed her for a moment of quiet contemplation, then added a couple spoonfuls of honey to his own tea. Only after that did he lean back and take a sip.

They both drank in silence for some time, openly appraising one another, with neither side appearing particularly inclined to initiate conversation.

Finally, after what felt like close to three minutes of mutual scrutiny, Lady Wintermere finished the last of the milk in her cup. She carefully placed it on the saucer she held, then set both items down on the table.

It was only then that she broke the silence.

"You are quite the mystery, Young Master Fury," she stated. "Not only did you venture alone into the home of someone considered an adversary, but you also accepted my hospitality without the slightest reservation."

"I can discern that you are neither foolish nor naive. So, what should I understand from this? Is it perhaps a reflection of your confidence in leaving here unharmed?"

"You could view it that way."

For a fleeting instant, Alex's eyes seemed to gleam with a crimson light.

A brief flash of surprise—and something akin to apprehension—crossed Lady Wintermere's mind in that moment.

Then, Alex let out a laugh.

"You are overthinking this considerably, Lady Wintermere. What enemies? We cannot truly be classified as enemies." He gestured dismissively, as if brushing away the very notion.

"At most, we are competitors. And there is nothing preventing competitors from choosing to share a drink together."

"From my vantage point, competitors can bear a striking resemblance to enemies," Lady Wintermere responded with composure.

"I disagree." Alex shook his head. "For individuals to become enemies, there typically needs to be animosity involved—or some other sentiment that injects a personal element. Business, however, is fundamentally about competition. Competition is an inherent part of the natural order. We all vie for something. If one falters in a competition, they simply must strive to perform better next time."

He shifted back slightly in his seat.

"To perceive competition as outright hostility is a detrimental approach to managing business affairs. After all, just as rivals spur professionals and entire nations to achieve greater strength, commerce itself flourishes when healthy competition is present."

Alex took the final, refined sip from his cup, then returned it and its saucer to the table.

"Competitors are not foes to be eradicated, but rather rivals who stimulate progress and ward off stagnation. Therefore, in that regard, while we may not be friends... we are undoubtedly something far closer to unspoken allies."

Lady Wintermere remained silent for a short period, considering his viewpoint.

She studied the younger man seated opposite her, then slowly offered a smile.

"You possess a remarkably intriguing perspective on this matter, Young Master Fury. You may consider me enlightened," she declared.

"So, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?" she inquired. "Surely, you did not procure such a quantity of costly ingots and arrange a private meeting with me merely to consume milk and engage in philosophical discourse."

"You are quite correct, Lady Wintermere. While I have no doubt that you would prove to be a fascinating companion for a drink, my purpose for visiting today is of a considerably more practical nature," Alex stated.

He leaned forward somewhat.

"I aspire to transition our present dynamic as competitors into something... more amicable. I wish to propose a formal alliance—an arrangement I am confident would yield mutual advantages for both of us."

Lady Wintermere's expression remained unchanged.

"If I were to venture a guess, would I be accurate in assuming this proposed alliance carries the stipulation that I cease my association with Brock Peyton?" she asked.

"Precisely." Alex gave a confirming nod.

"In that scenario, I must regretfully inform you that fulfilling that condition would be rather difficult for me. It would be considered unbecoming of a merchant, such as myself, to casually abandon an established arrangement," Lady Wintermere replied.

"It is precisely the opposite, Lady Wintermere," Alex said evenly. "It is *because* you are a merchant that you must dissolve your ties with Brock Peyton."

This statement caused her brow to lift slightly.

"And what precisely is it that you mean by that?" she inquired.

***