Chapter 260: Arwin’s Gaze

The City Lord’s manor loomed over Riverdale, its pale stone walls glowing in the late afternoon sun, while banners hung motionless in the warm air.

In stark contrast to the bustling Ashford Quarter, where trade and chatter thrived without pause, the manor exuded a different kind of silence, one that was deliberate and controlled.

Guards stood at measured intervals, servants moved soundlessly, and even the breeze that drifted through the courtyard seemed aware not to disturb the peace.

Inside the west wing, behind a heavy wooden door intricately carved with the Valencrest crest, lay the study of City Lord Arwin Valencrest. The room was spacious yet understated.

Shelves lined the walls, filled with ledgers, maps, sealed scrolls, and meticulously organized records of taxes and trade. A substantial dark desk occupied a central position, its surface neatly arranged with several documents, no scattered papers or careless clutter; everything here spoke of order.

Roderick stood before that desk.

The red mark from two weeks prior had faded from his cheek but lingered in his pride. His jaw was set tight, his back straightened defiantly, and his eyes flickered with a restless fire that hadn’t dimmed since he’d walked out of the Adventurer Guild with laughter echoing behind him.

Arwin sat calmly behind his desk, perusing a document without any rush. He didn’t immediately acknowledge Roderick’s presence; instead, he finished reading a line before turning the page and finally lifting his gaze.

“You said they have left,” Arwin stated evenly.

“Yes,” Roderick replied, irritation creeping into his voice. “Boren and that woman Valeria departed this afternoon. Several merchants witnessed it; Garen Holtweiss himself was shouting in the streets when they left.”

A slight curve appeared on Arwin’s lips. “Garen shouts even when he buys bread,” he remarked lightly. “That’s hardly unusual.”

Roderick clenched his jaw tighter. “Father, this isn’t a joke.”

“I’m not joking,” Arwin responded calmly. “Continue.”

Roderick stepped forward slightly. “They’ve left their branch under new leadership, a man named Edwin Hale is now Guildmaster in Riverdale. The enforcement team has strengthened; their branch is stable and registration numbers are still rising.”

Arwin nodded slowly. “And?”

“And?” Roderick echoed incredulously as frustration bubbled up within him. “They humiliated our house publicly! They disregarded your authority! They refused tribute! They slapped me in my own city! And now they walk away as if nothing happened!”

Arwin leaned back slightly in his chair. “You weren’t slapped in your own city,” he replied evenly. “You were slapped in their hall.”

Roderick’s expression darkened further. “It’s still Riverdale.”

“Yes,” Arwin conceded. “But not every building in Riverdale is yours to storm.”

Roderick inhaled slowly. “So we do nothing?” he challenged. “We let them grow? We allow thirty thousand armed men to gather under one banner within our walls? Father, do you realize how dangerous that is?”

Arwin steepled his fingers, maintaining a calm demeanor. “Do you understand how perilous it would be to crush them now?” he replied evenly.

Roderick opened his mouth but then fell silent.

Arwin continued, his voice steady and almost quiet. “You see insult,” he noted. “You see wounded pride and laughter. I see numbers. I see trade routes opening up. I see merchant caravans moving safely through the city. I notice fewer petitions about bandits and quieter roads at night.”

Roderick’s eyes flashed with frustration. “At the cost of authority.”

“At the benefit of stability,” Arwin corrected him.

Roderick shook his head defiantly. “You speak as if they are allies.”

“I speak as if they are useful,” Arwin clarified.

The words lingered in the air between them.

Roderick paced across the carpet before turning back sharply. “Father, they do not take you seriously,” he insisted. “They don’t ask for permission or bow to your authority! Boren spoke to me like I was some common guard, and that woman struck me as if I were a street thief!”

“And yet you reached for him first,” Arwin responded calmly.

The silence that followed was palpable.

Arwin kept his tone measured. “You entered their hall with guards, demanded tribute, and ordered force, what did you expect?”

“I expected them to remember who rules Riverdale!” Roderick snapped back.

Arwin’s gaze sharpened slightly. “And do you think rule is maintained by shouting inside a crowded hall?”

Roderick frowned in frustration. “Then what would you have done?”

Leaning forward slightly, Arwin replied, “I would have sent a letter inviting the Guildmaster for tea. I would have discussed cooperation, gauged their intentions, and tested their limits without drawing swords.”

Roderick clenched his fists at his sides. “That sounds weak.”

“It sounds patient,” Arwin countered.

Silence stretched once more between them.

Lowering his voice but adding intensity, Roderick asked slowly, “You’ve heard something, haven’t you?”

For just a moment, Arwin’s eyes flickered with something unspoken.

“Heard what?” he asked cautiously.

“About the Guild,” Roderick pressed on. “You speak as though someone has warned you.”

Arwin stood from his chair and walked toward the window overlooking the cityscape of Ashford Quarter in the distance, smoke rising from cooking fires amidst closely packed rooftops.

Arwin rose from his chair and walked toward the window that overlooked the city. From this vantage point, he could see Ashford Quarter faintly in the distance, with wisps of smoke rising from cooking fires and rooftops packed closely together.

“Information travels,” Arwin said calmly. “Greyvale has changed. Other cities have changed. The Guild does not act without purpose.”

Roderick stepped closer, frustration evident in his tone. “Then why haven’t you taken action? Why not restrict them? Tax them more heavily? Pressure them somehow?”

Arwin turned his head slightly, his voice steady. “Because you don’t need to offend everyone.”

The weight of his words hung in the air.

Roderick stared at his father, incredulous. “Are you afraid of them?”

Arwin’s expression remained unchanged. “Fear is a tool,” he replied quietly. “It tells you when to tread carefully.”

“So you admit it,” Roderick pressed.

“I admit that I do not act blindly,” Arwin countered.

Roderick’s frustration boiled over. “They are a Guild, Father! Not a noble house or an army!”

“Not yet,” Arwin said softly.

Roderick fell silent.

Turning fully to face him, Arwin asked, “Do you know how many Adventurers are registered across the Evergreen Region?”

Roderick hesitated before answering, “Thousands.”

“Tens of thousands,” Arwin corrected him. “Possibly more, organized, ranked, paid, disciplined.”

“They’re still individuals,” Roderick argued.

Arwin shook his head. “Individually weak, yes. But bound under one structure? That changes everything.”

Roderick clenched his jaw. “Then we should strike before they grow too powerful.”

For the first time, Arwin’s eyes hardened slightly. “Strike with what?” he asked sharply. “City guards? Against a hall full of Bronze and Silver rank Adventurers? In public view? With merchants watching? With trade routes benefiting from their presence?”

Roderick had no answer.

Calmly, Arwin continued, “You would create martyrs, unite them against us and turn a useful force into an enemy.”

Lowering his voice with bitterness, Roderick said, “So we just smile and pretend nothing happened?”

Arwin returned to his desk and sat down slowly. “We observe,” he stated firmly. “We gather information and let them operate as they will. When the time is right, we’ll decide how to position ourselves.”

Roderick looked unconvinced. “Position ourselves?”

“Yes,” Arwin replied evenly. “Against them if necessary or beside them if it proves profitable.”

Staring at him incredulously, Roderick exclaimed, “You would cooperate with those who slapped your son?”

Arwin’s gaze was steady, yet there was a firmness beneath it. “I don’t govern based on your pride,” he said quietly.

His words cut deeper than any slap.

Roderick felt his face flush. “So my humiliation means nothing?”

“It means you acted impulsively,” Arwin replied. “It means you’ve learned something.”

Roderick clenched his fists. “I learned that they think they’re untouchable.”

Arwin leaned in slightly. “And I learned that they’re disciplined enough not to overreact after humiliating you,” he said. “They didn’t escalate the situation or storm the manor; they left peacefully. That tells me something.”

“What?” Roderick demanded.

“That they aren’t fools,” Arwin answered.

Silence enveloped the room once more.

Roderick’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “I won’t forget that hall,” he said.

“You shouldn’t,” Arwin replied calmly. “But don’t rush back into it with wounded pride.”

Roderick glanced toward the door and then back at his father. “You sound as if someone of equal rank warned you,” he said slowly. “Who?”

Arwin hesitated before answering, picking up a document from his desk, glancing at it, and setting it down again.

“Information doesn’t always come with names,” he explained. “But when multiple cities report similar growth under one banner, when trade stabilizes in regions once ruled by chaos, and when certain powerful individuals choose not to openly oppose that banner… I pay attention.”

Roderick’s eyes narrowed. “Powerful individuals?”

Arwin offered him a small, unreadable smile. “The world is larger than Riverdale,” he said. “And the Guild’s roots may run deeper than you realize.”

Roderick stepped back, anger and confusion mixing on his face. “So what do you want me to do?” he asked.

Arwin met his gaze steadily. “Learn,” he instructed. “Watch. Improve yourself. If you wish to confront something like the Guild, you must first understand it.”

Roderick’s pride flared again. “I don’t need to understand them,” he snapped. “I need to crush them.”

Alistair’s expression cooled sharply. “Then you’ll lose.”

The bluntness of his words hung heavily in the air.

Roderick stared at his father, disbelief flickering across his features.

Arwin remained firm but calm: “Go,” he said evenly. “Cool your head and don’t move against them without my order.”

For a moment longer, Roderick stood there, chest rising and falling as anger burned brightly in his eyes. He wanted to argue further; he wanted to shout but the authority in this room belonged to Alistair.

Without saying another word, he turned and strode toward the door, each step sharp and deliberate. As he reached the threshold, Arwin’s steady voice called out behind him.

“Roderick.”

Roderick paused but didn’t fully turn around.

“Power doesn’t grow quietly,” Arwin continued. “And neither does resistance. Keep that in mind.”

Roderick remained silent, pushing the door open and stepping outside with a dark expression, his pride bruised but not shattered.

Inside the study, Arwin stayed seated, his fingers tapping lightly against the desk as his gaze wandered back to the distant quarter where the Guild hall loomed.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep