Chapter 118: Stonehelm Blood

The silence in the lounge hung heavily after Pax’s last words, taking on a contemplative quality rather than an awkward one.

Outside the tall windows, the Guild Hall buzzed with life, footsteps, laughter, the scrape of chairs, and the metallic clink of armor, but within this secluded space, the world felt momentarily distant, as if separated by an invisible veil.

Sage remained seated, one arm draped along the back of the sofa, his gaze unfocused yet sharp, as if replaying Pax’s earlier report in his mind. Five districts, hundreds of unseen eyes, a net cast wide and fragile in places but undeniably real.

Finally, he exhaled. “There was something else,” Sage said calmly, his tone steady and measured. “The task I gave you earlier.”

Pax nodded slightly, recognizing the shift in topic without surprise; he had anticipated it.

“You asked me to investigate the background of the man you hired,” Pax replied. “And his family.”

Sage’s eyes flicked unconsciously toward the reception desk beyond the lounge.

Through the open space, he spotted Boren standing behind the massive counter, shoulders hunched forward as he listened intently to an adventurer while nodding too enthusiastically and shuffling papers that were already perfectly organized.

Boren was smiling broadly, earnestly, oblivious to the weight of blood and history that trailed behind his name.

Sage turned back to Pax. “Go on.”

Pax took a breath this time more slowly.

“What I gathered,” he said carefully, “is surface-level information. Nothing deeply buried. The Central District remains inaccessible; direct infiltration is impossible given our current reach.”

Sage’s expression remained unchanged.

“To acquire even this,” Pax continued, “I had to rely on indirect methods. Coin speaks where footsteps cannot.”

He paused before elaborating further: “I bribed two perimeter guards stationed near Stonehelm estate’s outer routes, not to breach entry but to talk. Men grow loose-tongued when they believe themselves unseen. I also made contact with a coachman employed by the Stonehelm household who transports supplies and family members between estates and controlled properties. His access is limited but familiarity breeds knowledge.”

Sage nodded once and motioned for him to continue.

“And so what follows,” Pax stated evenly, “is what any moderately influential citizen in Greyvale could uncover with effort, nothing hidden or sensitive, but enough to grasp the weight behind their name.”

He straightened subtly as he shifted fully into report mode.

“The Stonehelm Family,” Pax began, “is among the five most powerful noble houses in this region. Their influence ranks second only to that of Baron within Greyvale; their power is not merely ceremonial, it is functional.”

Sage listened silently.

“They control multiple dungeon territories,” Pax continued. “Not through direct occupation, but by wielding contractual authority, licenses, extraction rights etc. Several mid-tier dungeons outside the city fall under their jurisdiction. These dungeons provide rare materials, monster cores, and refined resources that are sold to guilds, craftsmen, and military contractors.”

He paused for a moment before continuing.

“In addition to this,” Pax said, “they maintain an extensive business network: smithing workshops, trade caravans, mineral rights, storage depots, and logistics routes. Their operations extend beyond Greyvale into neighboring regions.”

Sage’s fingers curled slowly. “And the head of the family?” he asked.

“The current Patriarch is Stonehelm Aldric,” Pax replied. “He’s a cautious man, conservative and not known for flamboyance or cruelty. However, he becomes ruthless when stability is threatened. His authority within the family is absolute.”

Sage leaned back slightly.

“In the Baron’s court,” Pax added, “the Stonehelm voice carries significant weight. They aren’t rulers in the traditional sense but are kingmakers; when they lean one way or another, others follow.”

The atmosphere in the lounge felt colder.

“Which makes the man at your desk,” Pax said quietly, “an anomaly.”

Sage’s gaze drifted again.

Boren laughed suddenly at something an adventurer said, slapping his thigh hard enough that his bracelets jingled. Papers fluttered around him as he apologized profusely, bowing repeatedly.

Sage looked away.

Pax continued. “Boren Stonehelm is the third son of the family,” he explained. “Born nineteen years ago; his mother died during childbirth.”

The words landed without embellishment.

“There’s no record of overt accusations,” Pax added. “No formal blame exists. But servants talk; relatives remember. Superstition festers quietly in noble halls.”

Sage’s jaw tightened imperceptibly.

“In the years following his birth,” Pax went on, “Boren’s position within the household gradually eroded. He wasn’t mistreated openly, that would have drawn scrutiny, but rather… overlooked.”

Pax chose his words carefully.

“Less instruction and fewer opportunities; removed from family gatherings and excluded from training schedules. His lack of Mana talent only worsened perceptions against him.”

“Among nobles,” Pax noted dryly, “usefulness equates to affection.”

Sage closed his eyes briefly.

“The servants saw him,” Pax continued softly. “They pitied him at first; that pity turned to ridicule as he grew older and failed to demonstrate value. His weight became a symbol; his appetite a joke.”

Sage exhaled slowly.

“Eventually,” Pax said, “he was given just enough allowance to survive but not thrive, jewelry and clothing that served as status markers without substance: enough to appear noble but not enough to act like one.”

Silence settled over the lounge once more.

Pax concluded his report with a calm professionalism. “That’s all I could gather,” he said. “Anything deeper would require infiltrating the Central District.”

Sage remained still, lost in thought for a moment. Two images clashed in his mind: a noble house built of stone and iron, its power rooted in bloodlines and contracts, and a rotund young man behind a desk, smiling too easily and grateful for any work he could get.

Stonehelm Blood, Sage mused.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Does anyone in the city know the truth?” he asked quietly.

Pax shook his head. “Most people believe what they’re told, that he’s lazy, gluttonous, a failed noble.”

A cold smirk crept onto Sage’s lips. “Of course they do.”

He stood slowly and moved toward the edge of the lounge. From there, he could hear Boren humming to himself as he stamped a document with unnecessary force.

Sage watched him for several seconds before turning back to Pax.

“You did well,” he said simply.

Pax nodded slightly, no pride or relief showed on his face, just acknowledgment.

Then Sage paused as if considering something important before casually asking, “Do you know a winemaker?”

Pax blinked in surprise; the question was so abrupt and unrelated that it caught him off guard.

“A… winemaker?” he echoed.

“Yes,” Sage replied. “One who actually knows what he’s doing.”

Pax’s gaze drifted past Sage to the bar counter along the wall, where polished wood gleamed invitingly. A few adventurers lingered nearby, their hands resting on the counter as if willing it to spring to life.

Understanding dawned on him.

“I do,” Pax finally said after a moment of contemplation. “But recruiting him won’t be simple.”

Sage’s eyes lit up instantly. “Let me guess, he’s quite eccentric?”

Pax allowed himself a faint smile. “Extremely.”

Sage waved his hand dismissively. “I just want you to try.”

“He won’t come cheap,” Pax warned.

“I won’t be disappointed,” Sage replied without hesitation.

Pax nodded once. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Sage then gave him a few final instructions, brief yet precise, and Pax listened intently, committing them to memory.

Without further ado, Pax rose from his seat and vanished in an instant.

Only the steady hum of the Guild remained as Sage stood there for a moment longer.

His gaze returned to Boren, who laughed heartily while wiping sweat from his brow, completely unaware that his bloodline alone had the potential to shake cities.

Sage observed him quietly once more. Stonehelm Blood again crossed his mind.

For the first time, he began to wonder what kind of future that lineage might bring forth.

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