Once the toast was made, servants moved instantly, chairs sliding back in perfect unison with a sound like a soft, collective exhale.
Athena gathered the folds of sapphire silk and seated herself with quiet elegance. Fafnir followed, settling with the casual confidence of someone who had eaten at noble tables before—and survived them. Aleric lowered himself into the chair opposite the Baron, posture straight despite the weight of the moment. Only then did Lady Selene and the children take their seats.
Fenrir padded forward, claws clicking softly against polished stone like the ticking of a clock. He positioned himself behind Aleric's chair, body angled to watch every corner of the room. Then he lowered himself to the ground. Silent. Present. A warning without a sound.
The first course arrived—roasted pheasant glazed with honey and herbs, arranged with the kind of precision only noble kitchens bothered with. The scent was rich and sweet, but Aleric found it hard to focus on the food.
Wine was poured. Silverware chimed faintly. For a moment, the hall held only the quiet rhythm of a well‑orchestrated meal.
Then— "It would be improper," Lady Selene said gently, her voice cutting through the clinking of porcelain, "to share a table without knowing the names of those seated at it."
Her tone was warm. Her eyes were not. She was dissecting them with a glance.
Aleric inclined his head. "Aleric." He offered nothing more.
Athena followed smoothly. "Thena." No hesitation. No elaboration.
Fafnir lifted his glass, the dark wine catching the candlelight. "Faf."
The Baron's brow rose a fraction. "Concise."
"We prefer to be straight to the point," Fafnir replied, his emerald eyes dancing with a hidden joke.
A faint smile tugged at the Baron's mouth. "And your companion?" Thomas asked before he could stop himself. "The hound, I mean."
Lyria's hand drifted near her brother's sleeve—not silencing him, but reminding him to tread carefully.
"Fenrir," Aleric answered.
Thomas swallowed, his throat bobbing. Fenrir's golden eyes flicked toward him for a single heartbeat. Then returned to the room. The boy sat straighter, his fascination warring with a sudden, healthy dose of fear.
Around them, servants withdrew to the edges of the hall, forming a silent perimeter. The Baron cut into his pheasant with deliberate calm. "So tell me, how long have you been working together?" he asked, eyes on his plate rather than on them.
A simple question. A loaded one. He was looking for the cracks in their history.
Fafnir answered first. "Long enough to know each other's habits."
Athena added, "Long enough to avoid unnecessary misunderstandings."
The Baron hummed thoughtfully. "And mercenary work has treated you well?"
"It pays well when contracts are honored," Aleric said, his gaze meeting the Baron's directly.
"And when they are not?"
Athena's fingers rested lightly on her glass. "We do not accept contracts that have no backing or guarantees."
Lady Selene's smile was small but approving. "Very prudent."
The Baron took a sip of wine. "And is this your entire company?"
Aleric met his gaze. "We operate in a small unit." Not a lie but not the truth he was looking for.
Fafnir tore a piece of bread. "Less noise that way."
The Baron's gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. "I see."
The second course arrived—braised lamb in a rich reduction, steam curling upward in fragrant ribbons. Candles flickered along the table, casting long, dancing shadows against the tapestries.
Lyria, silent until now, studied Athena with quiet curiosity. "You speak like someone educated," she said softly. "Were you always in this profession?"
Athena smiled, a rare, enigmatic expression. "Education is useful in many professions."
"Sounds like you are avoiding the question," the Baron noted lightly.
"No, I'm just speaking the truth," Athena corrected.
A brief silence followed—measured, not uncomfortable. The Baron leaned back slightly. "From what I know, mercenaries are usually… unpredictable," he said. "They travel between territories. Witness much. Learn much." His gaze returned to Aleric. "I invited you here because I prefer to know the sort of individuals operating within my borders."
There it was. The real reason for this invitation. Aleric did not look away.
"We think similarly. We also prefer to know the sort of lord whose lands we pass through."
Thomas blinked. Lyria's lips curved faintly. Lady Selene's eyes sharpened. The Baron held Aleric's gaze for a long moment. Then—he smiled. "Well answered."
The tension didn't break. It shifted. Wine was refilled.
"And before this line of work?" the Baron asked. "Caravan guard work rarely begins at birth."
Aleric cut into his lamb, the meat tender and rich. "I learned to fight where fighting was necessary." He lied.
"Military?"
"Sometimes."
"Border skirmishes?"
"When the coin demanded it."
The Baron nodded slowly. "And what is your thought on loyalty?"
The word landed with weight, ringing like a hammer on an anvil.
Aleric answered without hesitation. "We are loyal to the contract we sign."
Fafnir added, almost lazily, "And to each other."
The Baron's eyes sharpened. "An admirable thing."
Fenrir shifted beside Aleric's chair—just enough to remind the room he existed. The children went still. The maids stiffened. The Baron noticed everything. But he gave no outward reaction.
Instead, he folded his hands. "I heard that your group are the ones that handled the ogres on the trade road," he said. Not a question.
"Yes," Aleric replied.
"And from what I heard, you did splendidly well."
"We only fulfilled the contract."
"Also I believe it was two days ago, one of my men approached one of you."
"He did."
"And returned… injured."
"If you mean approached us as in spying and following us, then yes," Aleric said calmly. "As to why he came back injured, we responded proportionally to his actions."
A pause. Fafnir tore another piece of lamb. "Bad footing on his part."
Lyria pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile. The Baron looked between them, weighing every word. Then— "I see."
The air grew heavier—not hostile, but aware. They were not simple sell swords. And he knew it.
The Baron's fingers tapped once against the table. Soft. Deliberate. "Well," he said smoothly, "I am pleased you accepted my invitation."
The words were cordial. But beneath them—intent. And the night was far from over.
The Baron rested his elbows lightly against the arms of his chair, his posture relaxed but his gaze razor‑sharp. "I value stability," he said. "Be it trade stability, political stability, personal stability." His eyes drifted briefly to Fenrir. "And physical stability."
The pause that followed was deliberate—an invitation for them to consider the weight of his words. "You see, I can see that you are… capable individuals."
Not praise. Recognition.
Fafnir leaned back slightly, expression unreadable. "We try."
Lady Selene's attention flicked toward her husband. She knew that tone—measured, strategic, the prelude to something larger.
The Baron continued. "You arrived in my city not even five days ago. before even entering my city, you handled a regional threat efficiently. You defended yourselves without causing public disorder by not fleeing the attack and drawing them near my walls." His gaze sharpened. "And you did not retaliate beyond what was necessary when my man unknowingly provoked you."
Aleric inclined his head. "We prefer not to create enemies if we can help it."
"Good," the Baron replied. "Because that is precisely what I wish to discuss with you."
Servants moved quietly, clearing plates and replacing them with dessert. The children remained silent now, sensing the shift in the room. The Baron folded his hands.
"High Valmere is prosperous," he said. "That prosperity attracts opportunity." His gaze slid to Athena. "And predators." Then to Fafnir. "And… sometimes complications." Finally, he returned to Aleric. "I employ guards and soldiers. But soldiers are visible."
He let the implication settle. "Sometimes I require individuals who are not."
There it was.
Lady Selene's voice softened the moment. "Discretion is rare."
Athena's reply was calm. "Discretion is costly."
The Baron's smile was faint, but genuine. "I assumed as much."
The air thickened—not with hostility, but with negotiation.
"I propose the following," the Baron said. "A standing contract." Thomas straightened in his seat. Lyria's eyes brightened with interest. "Not exclusive," the Baron clarified. "You would remain free to accept outside work."
A calculated concession.
"But High Valmere would retain priority rights to your services in matters of internal concern."
"Internal concern like what?" Fafnir asked.
"Banditry that grows organized. Rival merchant houses that forget to pay their dues. Political… discomforts." He didn't elaborate. He didn't need to.
Aleric remained silent, letting the Baron reveal the full shape of the offer.
"I would provide a permanent residence within the city." The shift in the room was immediate. "A manor," he added. "Modest by noble standards. Generous by mercenary ones."
Thomas blinked. Lady Selene did not.
"It would serve as your operational base," the Baron continued. "Within the noble district. it would be close enough to respond quickly but far enough to maintain privacy."
Athena's mind moved quickly—thinking about its location, the influence it could bring, the risk of visibility and what kind of leverage it could grant them.
"And what about the compensation?" she asked.
"A monthly retainer," the Baron said. "It would be independent of the contract payout."
"Additionally," he continued, " working for me will give you and your group formal recognition as sanctioned agents of the City of High Valmere."
Fafnir raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning some doors will open more easily. Accusations carry less weight. Certain individuals will reconsider crossing you."
It wouldn't be immunity but it would grant a backer and protection.
Aleric finally spoke. "And in return?"
"Loyalty to contract," the Baron said. The same phrase Aleric had used earlier. A deliberate mirror.
"And discretion," Lady Selene added.
Aleric studied the Baron. "You would be tying your reputation to ours."
"Yes."
"And if we fail?"
"Then I have misjudged you." There was no hesitation or softening of his words. It was a statement of risk. Aleric respected that.
Silence settled over the table—heavy, thoughtful. Fenrir shifted once, the only sound in the room.
Athena leaned slightly toward Aleric, voice low. "It allows us to rest instead of moving palce to place."
"It could give us influence," Fafnir murmured.
"But it risks increasing our visibility," Aleric replied.
"But it will give us proximity to a backer," Athena finished.
The Baron watched them.. He allowed them space. That, too, was strategic. Finally, Aleric turned back to him.
"Why us?"
The Baron answered without delay. "Because you did not posture when challenged." His gaze sharpened. "And because you are clearly more than you present yourselves to be."
He wasn't asking for their secrets. He was acknowledging them.
"I prefer to hire capable allies," the Baron said, "before someone else attempts to purchase them."
There it was. The truth beneath the offer. High Valmere was stable on the surface but conspiracies move in the shadows.
Lady Selene's voice softened the moment. "My husband is someone who doesn't lack foresight and he believes your group would be beneficial to him and his agenda in the long run."
Fafnir's lips curved faintly. "Smart man."
The Baron inclined his head. "So," he said, "shall we discuss terms?"
The board had expanded. The Baron did not summon parchment. Not yet. First he needed understanding—boundaries, expectations, the shape of the alliance he was trying to forge.
Aleric didn't rush. "If we sign this contract and establish ourselves in your city, we will eventually grow."
The Baron's eyes narrowed with interest. "In what sense?"
"In numbers," Athena answered. "We do not intend to remain three forever."
Fafnir added, "That would be inefficient."
A brief pause followed as the Baron absorbed that. "You intend to recruit?"
"Yes," Aleric said plainly. "Squires. Specialists. Fighters. Informants." He didn't soften the truth. "If we build something here, it will not remain small."
The Baron leaned back slightly. "And these additions would operate under my standing contract?"
"They would operate directly under us, not your contract," Aleric corrected.
Silence settled. Lady Selene watched closely.
"And what assurance," the Baron asked, "would I have regarding their loyalty?"
Aleric met his gaze. "If they stand beneath my banner, they would have been vetted." A beat. "They would be people who have earned my full trust."
"And therefore?" the Baron pressed.
"And therefore," Aleric said, his voice like iron, "they will have yours. No contract regarding you or your affairs would be accepted by our group."
The Baron studied him for several long seconds—not the words, but the conviction behind them.
"And if one of them betrays that trust?"
"They'll answer to me," Aleric replied instantly. No hesitation. No shared responsibility.
The Baron nodded once. "That is acceptable."
Athena continued smoothly. "The residence you proposed."
"Yes?"
"It must be fortified."
The Baron's brow lifted. "In what manner?"
"High perimeter stone walls," Aleric said. "No less than twelve feet tall with a reinforced gate if possible."
Fafnir added, "We want absolute privacy."
Athena continued, "And we will need land big enough for a training field within the grounds."
"For drills?" the Baron asked.
"Yes and for our members who may need it in the future," Athena confirmed.
A pause. "What about the possibility of noise complaints?" the Baron asked.
"We can limit the training hours," Aleric said. "But training will be a constant thing when our group starts recruiting."
Thomas looked impressed. Lyria looked thoughtful. The Baron tapped a finger against the arm of his chair. "A fortified manor inside my district will attract attention."
"Good," Fafnir said.
The Baron's gaze sharpened. "Explain."
"Anyone that is considering to move against you," Fafnir replied, his eyes flashing, "will know you keep sharp tools nearby."
The Baron held his gaze. Then—a faint smile.
"You would use your own headquarters as deterrence."
"Exactly."
Lady Selene traced the rim of her glass, the crystal catching the light like a trapped star. "What about your privacy? Why be secretive?"
"We want our affairs to remain our own," Athena said, her voice leaving no room for negotiation.
The Baron didn't argue. He expected that. "To have everything you have asked, you have to abide by these conditions," he retorted.
Aleric inclined his head. "As long as they are reasonable ones."
"First," the Baron said, "I want priority response within city limits when I invoke the standing contract."
"Define priority," Athena said, her inner strategist already mapping out response times.
"Within the day."
Aleric nodded. "Acceptable."
"Second," the Baron continued, "if I assign a contract under my seal, I expect it done as soon as possible, no matter what."
"You will have it," Aleric said.
"In the manner you see fit?" the Baron pressed.
Methods. Aleric didn't look away. "We will complete the objectives on the contract. How we do so remains should be our discretion. Of course, if you want it done quietly, it will, but if there is no specified condition, we will do it our way."
A quiet tension pulsed through the room, thick and electric.
"We want no public spectacles," Lady Selene added gently, her eyes searching Aleric's.
"We shall be discreet when possible," Athena agreed.
"But we don't want any oversight on our methods of doing things," Aleric finished.
The Baron held his gaze—long, measured—deciding how much control he was willing to relinquish. Finally— "We won't inquire about your… personal capabilities," he said. "I will not demand to catalogue your abilities either."
That mattered. It was an admission that he knew they were hiding something, and a promise not to dig.
Aleric inclined his head. "Appreciated."
"In return," the Baron said, "you will not conceal information that directly threatens my household."
Reasonable. "If it endangers you or your family," Aleric said, his voice softening just a fraction, "you will know."
Lyria's eyes flickered at the word family. The Baron nodded.
"One more matter," he added. Fenrir's ears twitched. "Your hound."
The servants near the wall stiffened, their eyes darting toward the silver giant.
"He remains under your control?"
"Yes," Aleric said.
"And if he becomes a threat to my citizens—"
"He will not," Aleric replied. The bond between them was a physical weight in the room.
The Baron studied him—and believed him.
Silence settled again. The framework was finally taking shape.
Finally, the Baron spoke. "I will fund the acquisition and fortification of the manor."
Thomas blinked, his mouth falling open slightly. Even Lady Selene looked briefly toward her husband. That was generous, not strategic anymore.
"In return," the Baron said, "you will establish yourselves publicly as sanctioned agents of the city of High Valmere."
"Agreed." "And can we retain the right to expand without limit?" Aleric asked.
"Within reason," the Baron replied.
"Define reason," Fafnir said, leaning forward.
"No private army that rivals my own."
Fair. Aleric nodded. "Done. We don't plan on raising an army anyway."
"Good," the Baron said quietly.
Silence settled—solid, grounded. Two sides realize their interests are aligned. After a moment, the Baron extended his hand across the table.
"A standing contract," he said, "between House Valmere and your company."
Aleric rose, the movement slow and deliberate as he ignored the protest of his ribs. He met the Baron halfway and clasped his hand in a firm, measured grip.
"Agreed."
The candles flickered as if stirred by the shift in the room. Servants exhaled quietly, the held breath of the hall finally released. Lady Selene smiled—small, satisfied. Thomas looked thrilled. Lyria looked thoughtful.
And Fenrir—watched.
The board had shifted. They were no longer travelers passing through High Valmere. Now they had roots. And roots—had a way of growing into power. Aleric looked at the Baron, and for the first time, he felt the weight of expectation resting on his shoulders.