Chương 124: Chapter 120. Background dealings

Commander Evans moved through the long hallways of Count Halvric Dorne's estate with a sombre expression on his face. The corridors stretched endlessly, lined with polished stone floors and walls decorated with framed paintings and expensive tapestries. Soft light from hanging chandeliers reflected off the marble, giving the entire place a calm, almost suffocating elegance that Evans had never quite been comfortable with. It had taken time to settle the warbands.

Most had been directed toward the longhouse, while Captain Clark Doloris' one and a few of his own men had been given quarters within the estate itself. Only after making sure everything was in order had Evans finally allowed himself to step away. Now, he was being led toward the count's study. A butler walked a few steps ahead of him, his posture straight and movements precise, guiding him through the maze of corridors without a word.

Evans followed in silence, his boots making dull, measured sounds against the polished floor. Despite the formality of the moment, Evans felt nothing positive about the meeting. He was a man of tradition. Valerian traditions had been a part of his life since childhood, shaping the way he thought, fought, and commanded. He respected them, even when they were inconvenient. But that didn't mean he liked all of them. Some, like this, only irritated him.

More so when the man in question was someone he didn't particularly respect. Count Halvric Dorne was not someone Evans held in high regard. There was nothing about the man that appealed to him. From the food he preferred to the type of wine he drank, everything about Dorne felt foreign. But more than that, it was his views that bothered Evans the most. The man was not from a line of warriors, and even its estate reflected it. As they passed through another corridor, Evans's gaze briefly shifted to the walls.

Instead of weapons, armor, or trophies of battle, they were filled with paintings, intricate art pieces, and framed letters bearing the royal seal. Old correspondences between the royal family and House Dorne were displayed like achievements. To others, it might have looked impressive. To Commander Evans, it felt hollow. It wasn't that Count Dorne was incompetent. Haven City itself stood as proof of that.

The city was one of the most prosperous in the region, fueled by rich underground mines and the presence of mana ley lines that ran beneath it. Those ley lines made it an ideal place for mages and spellswords, which in turn brought wealth, trade, and influence. There was a reason the teleportation network had been established here. The count had maintained that prosperity. But that didn't change what Evans thought of him.

Dorne was the type of man who had never held a sword, never stood on a battlefield, yet spoke of war as if it were a game to be played. He was ambitious in a way that Evans found distasteful, willing to push others—commoners and even fellow nobles—into conflict if it meant gaining an advantage. It wasn't a coincidence that he supported the first prince, Melakar Valeris. And yet, despite all of that, Evans had come here today with a request. The thought sat heavily in his mind as they walked.

He didn't like the idea of asking anything from a man like Dorne, but the situation left him with little choice. Evans exhaled quietly, his expression remaining unchanged. As he was lost in thought, the butler suddenly slowed, then stopped.

"We are here, my lord," the man said politely. They stood before a large set of double doors, carved from dark wood and polished to a shine. The butler moved forward without hesitation, placing a hand on one of the doors and pushing it open. A moment later, Evans stepped inside. The study was spacious, larger than most rooms he had been in. Shelves lined the walls, filled with neatly arranged books and scrolls. A large desk stood near the center, surrounded by finely crafted furniture.

The air carried a faint scent of elven wine. Evans took nearly twenty paces into the room before stopping. Count Halvric Dorne sat behind his desk. The man looked exactly as Evans remembered him. Fat and pudgy, with a round face that seemed almost too soft for someone of his position. His cheeks were full, his chin barely visible beneath the folds of his neck, and his fingers looked thick as they rested on the arm of his chair.

Even seated, there was a certain heaviness to him that suggested he rarely moved more than necessary. His clothes, however, were immaculate. Fine fabrics, carefully tailored, with subtle embroidery that spoke of wealth without being overly extravagant. Rings adorned his fingers, each one likely filled with different types of spells. Dorne looked up at him before standing up, a small, practiced smile forming on his face. And in that moment, Evans couldn't help but think one thing.

The man would probably have a heart attack within the next ten years. He didn't let the thoughts show on his face though, and as per tradition, gave a slight bow the moment Count Dorne rose to his feet. It was a controlled movement, respectful but not excessive, and the count returned it with a polite bow of his own. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

"It is always a pleasure to meet the war hero again," Dorne said, his voice smooth and practiced as he gestured toward the seats.

"I often tell my sons to follow your example, Count Evans. You are one of the few among the noble houses who actually puts himself on the line against the kingdom's enemies." He paused briefly, his expression shifting ever so slightly.

"I also heard this time you were dealing with necromancers, not just the usual dungeon outbreaks." Evans nodded as both of them took their seats across the desk.

"There were complications," he said simply.

"But they have been dealt with. His Majesty will receive a full report." Dorne inclined his head, but a faint, knowing smile formed on his lips.

"I doubt it will be anything different from before," he said.

"Another instance of the kingdom's enemies sabotaging us, I'm sure." His fingers tapped lightly against the desk.

"I respect His Majesty, but he will not start a war over something like this." It didn't surprise Commander Evans that Count Dorne already had ideas about where the necromancers had come from. The presence of orcs alone was big enough of a hint, and there were always ears within the army willing to listen and mouths willing to speak. Information travelled fast, especially when coin was involved, and this was not the kind of matter that would stay hidden for long.

Still, the speed at which Dorne seemed to know about it caught Evans off guard. Though, he didn't let it show on his face.

"Although I believe we should answer back accordingly," Evans said after a brief pause, his tone steady, "I do not think we should start a war over it." He leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze fixed on the man across from him.

"Our past conflicts with the wildermen have already cost us enough," he continued.

"And if their shamans have grown strong enough to send necromancers this far into our lands, then they are not the same enemy we faced before." Dorne's expression darkened almost immediately.

"Savages," he spat, the word carrying clear disgust.

"It is already a shame His Majesty hasn't buried every last one of them." He paused, taking a slow breath as if to rein himself in, though the irritation remained clear in his eyes.

"You know my thoughts on them," he added.

"They are no better than beasts. Living off plunder and chaos, refusing any sense of order." His fingers curled slightly against the armrest.

"And now they seem to stand with those damned orcs as well." Commander Evans watched him quietly for a moment before speaking again.

"I think your hatred extends beyond just them," he said.

"To anyone who isn't Valerian." Dorne let out a short huff at that, though there was no real denial in it.

"Only our people, and those who stand with us, deserve respect, Commander Evans," he replied.

"You know that as well as I do. Everyone else is either a threat or will become one in time." Evans gave a small nod, not because he agreed, but because he had no intention of turning this into an argument. He knew better than to waste time debating with Dorne on matters like this. The count's words, while extreme, were not entirely without calculation. The man was not a fool who simply hated blindly. His stance was shaped by ambition as much as belief.

Men like First Prince Melakar wanted war, and men like Count Dorne benefited from it. The wildermen were their long term enemy. Their reputation alone made them ideal targets. Tales of their raids, their brutality, and the way they treated those they conquered were known by all. To the common people, they were monsters, and nothing united a kingdom faster than a common enemy. Evans understood that. But understanding it didn't mean he supported it.

"War or not," Evans said after a moment, his voice calm once more, "that decision lies with His Majesty. The army does not choose its battles. We follow orders." Dorne studied him for a second before nodding slowly.

"As we all do," he said. There was a brief silence between them, one that carried more weight than their earlier exchange. Then the count leaned back slightly, his gaze sharpening just a little.

"But I do believe," he added, "that House Evans should start thinking more about the future." Commander Evans's brows drew together slightly at the count's words.

"I believe the future of my house is secure," he said, his tone calm but firm. Count Dorne let out a short laugh, leaning back in his chair as if he had expected that answer.

"Secure, yes," he said.

"But it can always be better." His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest as he studied Evans.

"I know you haven't aligned yourself with any faction yet, and you have been keeping your distance from the first prince." Evans did not respond immediately. He already understood where the conversation was heading, and knew that he had to choose his next words carefully.

"Is that an offer?" he asked slowly. Dorne's lips curved into a faint smile.

"It is," he said.

"The first prince wishes to meet you for dinner. He is willing to do so wherever you prefer." His gaze sharpened slightly.

"What do you think?" Evans didn't answer right away. The idea alone was something he did not like. He had avoided taking sides for a reason. Aligning himself with any prince before the crown was decided was not just a political move, it was a commitment that could shape the future of his house for generations. He could refuse. And if he did, it would not bring immediate consequences. Even if the first prince eventually became king, House Evans was too important to be easily pushed aside. Still, he considered it.

Not because he wanted the alliance, but because the offer itself was only for a meeting. Nothing more. If there had been more behind it, Dorne would not have presented it so directly. The man was far too careful for that. A meeting, on the other hand, carried little risk. If anything, it gave Evans an opportunity. A chance to understand Prince Melakar better. To see the kind of man he was beyond rumors and second-hand accounts, and perhaps… a chance to use the situation to his advantage.

Evans exhaled quietly before speaking.

"I wouldn't be against it," he said.

"But I would have my own request." Dorne raised an eyebrow at that, clearly intrigued.

"What kind of request would you make of the prince?" he asked.

"It is only a meeting, after all." Evans met his gaze evenly.

"And my request will not cause him too much trouble." For a moment, Dorne simply stared at him, as if trying to read between the lines. Then he reached for a glass of water, lifting it slowly and taking a measured sip before setting it back down.

"Honestly, I am surprised," he said finally.

"You are not the type to ask for anything." There was a faint hint of curiosity in his expression now.

"Go on," he added.

"What is it that you want? I am sure the prince will be willing to accommodate it." Evans gave a small nod, thinking through his words.

"How much influence does he have over the upcoming truthsayers' trial in the capital?" he asked in the end.

"Especially considering that House Lanrice stands among his strongest supporters."

Read 50 chapters ahead Join the discord server HERE.