Chapter 261: Warning [ 1 ]

Arwin found himself alone in the study after Roderick’s departure, with only the soft crackle of the lamp and the gentle ticking of the wall clock breaking the silence.

Outside, the manor was still, but his mind was anything but quiet. He sat motionless behind his desk, fixated on a single spot in the wood, as if it held all the answers he sought.

The remnants of Roderick’s anger hung in the air like smoke, yet Arwin chose not to pursue it. He had witnessed anger before, young men consumed by their pride, mistaking it for strength.

What truly unsettled him wasn’t Roderick’s outburst; it was how swiftly everything had changed in just two weeks. A minor Guild had transformed into a topic of hushed conversations among nobles.

Arwin struggled to think like a ruler rather than a father, but those roles were never entirely separate. Whenever he closed his eyes for even a moment, he could still visualize that dreadful report: Your son was struck in public.

That memory was an unyielding thorn embedded in his skin, and despite his calm demeanor around Roderick, part of him remained that man from that night, sitting in this very chair, feeling anger simmer beneath the surface.

His fingers tapped once against the desk before halting. His gaze wandered to the window and out toward the dark silhouettes of rooftops beyond.

Suddenly, without warning, a vivid memory surged forth, a sharp reminder laced with fear that he had been desperately trying to avoid.

For an instant, it felt as though the lamp dimmed and the clock ticked louder while Arwin’s thoughts spiraled back, to that fateful night when he had been ready to unleash fury like a storm but had instead been forced to swallow his rage and remain still.

———

FLASHBACK — TWO WEEKS AGO

The night air had been frigid, yet it wasn’t the chill that troubled Arwin; it was an intense heat radiating from within his chest.

He had sat at his desk for over an hour, just as he did now but back then, his hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

A single report lay before him on the desk, meticulously penned by a trembling guard captain who delivered it with trepidation.

Arwin read through it once more, then again, as if rereading could somehow alter its grim content: Roderick Valencrest entered the Adventurer Guild branch hall accompanied by four guards; he demanded tribute; attempted to seize control from the Guild representative; Valeria responded with force; young Lord Roderick was struck and expelled.

The fact that his son had been struck was only part of the problem. The larger issue was what it represented.

A new organization had entered his city without deference, without pleading, and without seeking permission. The first public confrontation ended with the City Lord’s son on the ground.

This was humiliation, yes, but more importantly, it sent a message to every merchant, noble family, guard, and street thug: the City Lord’s house is not untouchable.

Arwin understood how such messages spread; he knew how quickly they could gain traction.

Earlier, he had stood by the window watching the city lights, his initial thought simple: I will make them pay. He had even summoned one of his commanders, ready to order an investigation and send men to surround the Guild hall to apprehend those responsible.

In his anger, he envisioned Valeria on her knees and Boren begging for mercy. It wasn’t a proud thought, anger rarely is but just as he reached for the bell to call another servant, a knock sounded at the door.

It was a controlled knock not frantic or disrespectful, a knock from someone who understood the rules of a noble manor.

“Enter,” Arwin said coldly.

The door opened slowly as a servant stepped in, bowing low and moving carefully like a man entering a room with an exposed blade.

“My Lord,” he said softly, “Master Aldric Goldfeather requests an audience.”

Arwin’s anger didn’t dissipate but shifted focus. Aldric Goldfeather wasn’t just any merchant; he was one of the most significant trade lords along the Twilight River, a man whose ships transported goods across regions and who could buy half a district if he wished.

More importantly, Aldric had known Arwin for years not as brothers but well enough to exchange favors and warnings when necessary.

Arwin narrowed his eyes. “At this hour?” he asked sharply. “Why?”

The servant swallowed hard. “He insists it’s urgent, my Lord.”

Arwin stared at him for a moment; in his fury, he wanted to refuse entry. wanted to dismiss everyone and return to his rage but deep down he recognized that Aldric wouldn’t come at this hour unless something serious was amiss.

“Bring him,” Arwin finally commanded.

The servant bowed again and exited quickly while closing the door behind him.

Arwin stood up slowly, straightening his robe as he forced himself to breathe deeply and calm the storm brewing in his chest.

He didn’t want Aldric seeing him as an enraged father; he wanted to present himself as a ruler instead. Yet even as he prepared himself outwardly, that simmering anger remained just beneath the surface.

Minutes later, Aldric Goldfeather stepped into the study.

He was dressed simply, a stark contrast to his usual refined style.

Instead, he wore dark fabric that was clean and understatedly expensive. His mustache remained neatly trimmed, and his hair was still combed back, but the weariness in his eyes betrayed him, eyes that reflected the burden of carrying something heavy for days without relief.

He entered with the calm confidence of someone who had navigated many rooms like this one and emerged intact.

“My Lord,” Aldric greeted with a slight bow, polite yet not subservient. “I apologize for intruding at such a late hour.”

Arwin gestured toward the chair across from him, his voice taut. “Aldric,” he said firmly, “sit down. Speak your mind and tell me why you’re here at this hour.”

Aldric took a seat without glancing around the room or indulging in small talk; his gaze remained steady and serious on Arwin.

“I came,” Aldric began, “because of your son… and because of the Adventurer Guild.”

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