Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage Chapter 680: Lady Wintermere’s Choice II

"Does your young master harbor no concern that I might still betray him after this?" she inquired, her gaze shifting to Raven Horn. Then, turning her attention to Saul Redwald, she added, "And surely, you do not believe my butler is the sole Combat Saint dispatched by Drumvale. Do you truly think you can hold them all off by yourself?"

To her astonishment, Raven Horn and Saul Redwald exchanged a look – then let out a chuckle.

Lady Wintermere and her butler both elevated their eyebrows, evident confusion etched upon their faces.

"My apologies, we meant no disrespect," Raven Horn stated swiftly, regaining his composure. "It is simply that... ‘our’ young master—as you’ve phrased it—anticipated you might perceive things this way."

"There is no necessity to probe the nature of our relationship with Young Master Alex," he continued. "As we conveyed during our prior encounter, both of us have already forged steadfast allegiances with him."

A slight smile graced his lips.

"However, to address your question—no, he is not apprehensive about you betraying him. He adheres to a rather straightforward principle. Any robust partnership must be erected upon a bedrock of mutual respect and unwavering trust.

"In his own words, ‘Trust those you select to collaborate with; do not engage in collaboration with those you cannot trust’. Since he has made the decision to work alongside you, he has already extended the initial gesture—placing his confidence in you, so that, in due course, you may elect to reciprocate."

"Humans are indeed driven by emotion," Raven Horn remarked with a nod. "But tell me... can you ascertain that same degree of sincerity from Brock Peyton?"

His stare intently met Lady Wintermere’s, possessing a calm, solemn, yet penetrating quality.

Then, with an abrupt shift, he smiled once more—as if that moment of gravitas had utterly vanished.

Saul Redwald advanced slightly and articulated in a simple, firm tone,

"Just as you possess concealed strengths known only to yourself... are you entirely certain that Young Master Alex does not command unknown capabilities?"

Lady Wintermere felt a tremor ripple through her thoughts.

‘That... is indeed true,’ she conceded internally.

‘None of the intelligence I’ve procured concerning him adequately explains his affiliations with the BattleBane Guild or the Black Scar Syndicate.’

Her eyes darkened subtly as the implications began to solidify.

‘Who is to say there aren't other forces—lurking in the shadows—that I have yet to uncover?’

Presented with a choice between a brutish ruffian like Brock Peyton and an enigmatic enigma like Alex, Lady Wintermere instinctively comprehended which posed the more significant peril—and consequently, her decision was implicitly made for her.

A faint, ironic amusement flickered within her.

Brock Peyton had dispatched a missive brimming with bravado, threats, and sheer arrogance.

Conversely, Alex’s communication had been... courteous—at least on the surface. He had even gone so far as to provide precisely what she desired.

And yet, in her estimation, the entire dynamic had fundamentally shifted.

Peyton had dwindled into nothing more than a laughable figure.

Alex, however... emanated a quiet, suffocating dread.

The individual who threatened her was now a source of mockery, while the one who exhibited restrained composure was now the true object of fear.

Even she acknowledged the absurdity of the paradox—yet it stood before her as an undeniable reality.

Lady Wintermere released a silent exhalation.

"BattleBane Guild Master, my butler is a man of considerable engagements," she stated placidly to Saul Redwald. "He possesses neither the disposable time nor the inclination for engaging in sparring matches."

She then directed her attention to Raven Horn.

"I request your patience. My staff will be attending to the receipt of the shipment momentarily. Kindly convey my profound gratitude to your young master for his magnanimity.

"Indeed, he was correct. Once my options were coalesced, the appropriate course of action became luminously clear. I shall indeed commit this lesson to memory."

Saul Redwald and Raven Horn exchanged a knowing glance.

Without uttering another syllable, Saul turned and commenced his departure.

With the mistress of the estate having unequivocally declared her stance, there remained no further necessity—nor justification—for his continued presence or for provoking her butler further.

His objective at this location had been fulfilled.

Now, the onus fell upon Lady Wintermere to enact her resolution.

Raven Horn offered a slight shrug before turning to signal his associates stationed at the gates. This done, he too prepared to take his leave.

Just as he began to turn away, he halted his movement.

His back still facing her, he articulated his words.

"I have encountered a multitude of individuals throughout my existence. Exercise caution... Alex Fury is as vengeful as he is dependable.

"You would be better served by informing him of your opposition rather than engaging in betrayal. The former constitutes a matter of business—and business can be settled. The latter, however, transforms into something personal. And..."

He paused momentarily.

"...even I would prefer not to contemplate the consequences when matters escalate to a personal level."

As he spoke, Raven Horn recollected the appearance of Alex’s eyes—those irises that oscillated between a serene, welcoming ruby-red and a chilling crimson, tinged with an abyssal madness devoid of discernible depth, seeming to engulf all reason.

And with that final warning dispensed, his stride resumed as he departed the Banshee Estate, leaving his subordinates to oversee the transfer of goods.

It was only after he was completely out of sight that Lady Wintermere turned to her butler.

"Send word to Brock Peyton. Let him know I shall be dispatching reinforcements to aid in bringing this matter to a decisive conclusion," she stated.

The butler's eyes flickered momentarily, but he did not dare question her decree.

"Which force should I mobilize?" he inquired instead.

"Dispatch a company of the local security order. That should be sufficient," Lady Wintermere responded after a brief contemplation.

She paused, then added,

"Actually... accompany me. I will draft the letter myself. It is to be delivered directly into the hands of the commanding officer."

"I shall attend to it personally," the butler replied.

Lady Wintermere offered a slight nod before turning and making her way back towards her study.

Moments later, a group of servants rushed out to accept the shipment from the Black Scar Syndicate.

Later that same day, on the outskirts of BloodIron, a company belonging to one of Drumvale's clandestine forces rapidly exited the city.

Their objective—

To meet with a Lost Heathen force that had already departed... under the personal command of Brock Peyton.

Concurrently, a messenger bird ascended into the sky, winging its way in the identical direction.

The stage had been meticulously set.

Now, the eventual outcome of victory or defeat would be determined solely on the battlefield.

***