The Guardian gods Chapter 898

That was precisely how Tyrion Blackwood had ascended to his position as the absolute leader of House Sunward. He held the terrifying status and power of a Paragon, whereas the former leader did not, so Tyrion simply ended him and his entire direct lineage to take the seat for himself.

There was plenty of resentment and much to be said by the remaining members of the family, but every single one of them chose to stay perfectly still, fully aware of his overwhelming power. More importantly, they were swayed by the immediate, drastic upgrade to their own nobility status once Tyrion took over.

His mere presence as a Paragon was enough to instantly catapult their middle-class noble family into one of the three most powerful noble houses in the entire kingdom.

Hence, Tyrion was a leader strictly in name and raw power. He had absolutely no idea how the family itself was actually being run, nor could he ever bring himself to care about the mundane logistics of governance. And now, Tide’s precise goal was to manipulate this very ignorance, to entice the arrogant Paragon into growing a sudden interest in what was happening within his territory, hooking him completely with a few carefully placed keywords meant to brush past his ears.

Tide wasted no time putting Ikenga’s advice into action. He began systematically leaking calculated fragments of information to the spies embedded within his area of operation. Because his primary focus was completely locked onto House Sunward, the words he allowed to drift into their ears were carefully chosen baits, designed to trigger the ambition of any powerful mage.

In the dimly lit tavern of a bustling port city under house Sunwards domain, the air was thick with the scent of spiced ale and heavy tobacco. This was a neutral ground where merchants from all over the continent gathered to strike deals and where the ears of the continent’s finest spymasters were always open.

Deep in a corner booth, lit by a magic lamp, two high-ranking merchant believers sat leaning closely across a map-strewn table. Their voices were low, barely a breath above the ambient roar of the tavern.

"The shipment of core alloys from the eastern veins has cleared," one whispered, his eyes seemingly darting nervously toward the room. "But the overseers are demanding more. The foundations for the Tower require pristine structural integrity."

"Hush, keep your voice down," the second merchant hissed, leaning in even further. "You know how delicate the stage is. The mana conduit materials we smuggled past the kingdom’s border guards are already being laid. If the local lords realize the sheer density of the magic we are trying to anchor, they’ll seize the land before the mages can even finish calibrating the core."

A few tables away, sitting alone with a tankard of cheap mead, a man bearing the appearance of a tired worker sat still with eyes closed. To anyone passing by, he was just a weary man resting his eyes. But beneath the outward appearance, his ears strained, capturing every syllable. He was a seasoned operative for House Sunward, trained to filter out the noise of a crowded room.

"The final pieces must be secured before the grand auction," the first merchant murmured, rolling up a parchment with a sharp snap. "Once that gavel falls, the power dynamic on the western continent changes forever. The God of Treasury demands absolute discretion until then."

The Sunward spy opened his eyes, playing his part as he slowly took a sip of his drink, his heart hammering against his ribs. A Tower. Mana conduits. Mages. An auction of continental scale.

He didn’t need to hear another word. Leaving his tankard half-full, the spy slipped out into the night, rushing toward the nearest communication array. As he left, the whispering merchants looked at each other even the noisy tavern slowly lowered in volume as looks were exchanged.

Such scenes were taking place all over land owned by the Sunward currently occupied by Tide’s believers, the same key words were being spoken about under different pretense even going as far as orchestrating a show of force where a guard found two whispering merchants who under the eyes of everyone were dragged away, with words appearing a few day letter that those apprehended individuals are to lose their share and is in prison waiting for Judgement by the court of Xerosis.

Within the secret chambers of House Blackwood’s intelligence network, the handlers and spymasters worked frantically to make sense of the fragmented keywords pulled from all over their territory. The words themselves, Tower, mana conduit materials, mages, auction were agonizingly brief, yet induced with massive, dangerous implications.

The spymasters began drawing wild, ambitious conjectures.

"A Tower," one senior analyst murmured, tracing a map of the mining sectors. "A tower is nothing small, something of that scale, paired with high-grade mana conduit materials from our lands and as we all know from all over the world with unknown components, being handled by mages. But why would a god of treasury need a fortress for sorcery?"

"Look at the other words," another pointed out, tapping a parchment. "Mages and Auction. From this, we can deduce they aren’t just building a tower for themselves. Auction means to sell out. Could the God of Treasury be constructing an unprecedented, magically reinforced grand auction house? A neutral sovereign tower designed to trade the most volatile, high-tier magical artifacts and rare resources on the continent?"

The theories grew grander by the hour. Some conjectured that Tide was secretly backing a rogue faction of mages with some radicalised ideas that would bear great profit. Others guessed it was an auction meant to sell off pieces of materials thwt would be of great help to mages, using a specialized conduit tower to extract the treasures safely.

No matter which conjecture they leaned toward, the conclusion reached by the spymasters was unanimous, if a project of this magnitude was being built right under their noses using Sunward materials, the wealth and strategic power it would generate would be astronomical. Something that would most certainly draw the eyes of the king and royal family.

This was even more alarming because Tide’s worshippers weren’t just dealing with House Sunward. The intelligence reports indicated they were actively trading and striking deals with the other two noble houses of the exact same status in the kingdom, and had even extended their reach downward, involving the lower noble houses who owned the specific, localized mines needed for the the tower constructions.

The spymasters understood with immediate clarity that this was far too big for them to handle or control. As it stood, every single house led by a Paragon was being subtly woven into this web. If those other rival houses got word of these leaked keywords and drew the exact same conclusions, the race to seize the project would trigger a catastrophic political war. They couldn’t even begin to comprehend the aftermath of multiple Paragons clashing over a prize that could rewrite the power balance of the entire continent.

There was no time to waste.

Under normal circumstances, an intelligence leak of this magnitude would be brought directly to the head of the house. However, since the day Tyrion Blackwood had slaughtered the former leadership and claimed the seat of power, nobody had laid eyes on him or truly knew his whereabouts.

Knowing they couldn’t simply knock on the door, the spymasters made a desperate choice. They bypassed the empty compound and made their way directly to Tyrion’s mistress, the only living soul who held a direct line to the elusive Paragon, and the only one who could whisper this dangerous secret into his ear.

When the mistress of the house looked out and saw the highest leaders of the family’s factions gathered at her compound, she immediately knew something grave was unfolding. Under any other circumstances, these cowards would never have found the heart to cross into her personal sanctuary, they feared her connection to Tyrion far too much.

With a heavy expression, her head maid took emergency action to properly host the sudden flock of high-ranking guests. The moment they were seated, the leaders didn’t waste time with pleasantries. They desperately poured out everything they had discovered, the keywords, their alarming deductions, the terrifying future path for control over whatever Tide was constructing, and exactly how much of a catastrophic loss it would be to House Blackwood if they allowed this oversight to pass.

The mistress maintained a mask of perfect aristocratic composure throughout the entire meeting, absorbing the weight of their words. But the moment the last noble was ushered out of the estate and the heavy iron gates slammed shut, the mask shattered.

Her knees buckled. Her feet grew entirely weak, and she began to collapse right there in the courtyard.

"Are you alright, milady?" her maid cried out, rushing forward with the other servants to catch her before she hit the stones, holding her up with frantic worry.