Opportunity knocks but once. Unless you're waiting for the pizza delivery, then it'll knock twice and still be late.
Unwelcomed Guest
It was time for dinner. Mazen was waiting outside my room, his presence suggesting he didn't want to face the potential hostility alone. I nodded, and we made our way to the dining room in silence. The air was thick with an unspoken tension; it wasn't clear whether it was our arrival that had caused it or if the guests were simply in no mood for conversation. Regardless, every pair of eyes immediately flickered toward us.
As calmly as possible, I navigated to the seats reserved for my court, avoiding the sovereigns' table. Mazen's nervousness was betrayed only by his rigid, starched posture, though to the others, he likely appeared more authoritative or intimidating. I took my place beside Alex, and Mazen settled next to me, leaving Moses to sit on his other side. No one challenged us, though a few puzzled, inquisitive, and even hostile glances were cast in Mazen's direction.
Before we could begin our meal, disaster struck. The chair creaked sharply as Crimson approached our table with a roar that rivaled thunder, his presence commanding attention and fear. His claws extended from his fingertips, and the sight immediately prompted dozens of guns to be drawn in response.
Rada's men were quick to react, their weapons appearing as if they had rehearsed this scenario countless times. Moses gripped something in his hand, his bravery evident despite his fear. Ruben, on the other hand, shrank under the table, his demeanor a stark contrast to the others. Rolo and Alex tensed, their gazes flashing sharply at the king of vampires, warning that a line had been crossed. If he crossed the next, there would be no more mercy.
Undeterred by the threat, Crimson continued forward. "I want answers! What is a dirty black mage doing in my mansion?"
I rose with deliberate slowness. "Do not insult members of my court, Crimson. This is your last warning."
"Court...?" Crimson echoed in disbelief.
"I think you have your answer," I said, softening slightly. "I'll take responsibility for him, so you don't have to worry."
His face showed clear skepticism, but he eventually retreated, casting one last piercing look at Mazen and then at me. He returned to his table, beginning his meal with a cup of fresh blood.
When I finished my meal, I rose and left the dining room with slow, measured steps. Mazen followed me to my room. Once the heavy wooden door was shut behind us, he spoke.
"Who are you really?"
I turned to him, amused by the tension in his features and the respect he was struggling to hide. I would have enjoyed pondering his reaction longer, but he was clearly waiting for an answer.
"I am the same as I have always been," I replied.
"You've confronted the Crosspherat on several occasions. It's unclear whether the hunters see you as a friend or an enemy. You know most of the influential people—monsters, humans, mages, or hunters—and even the kings themselves. You've allied yourself with many of them."
"That just shows I'm doing my job well," I shrugged.
"And tonight you openly challenged Crimson. You should have seen yourself," he added quietly.
"But that's not all," Mazen continued, "You claimed to know Baldassarre."
I knew he had used that expression deliberately. His incredulity was palpable.
"No, I claimed to be his disciple," I corrected him.
His expression remained a well-crafted mask, though his body was taut with tension.
"That is impossible."
I shrugged. "You believe what you want."
Ignoring him, I started rummaging through my clothes.
"Baldassarre had disappeared," he declared, "No one has seen him since."
"Because he is not in this world," I said.
Mazen's gaze was sharp, his eyes rounding slightly but maintaining their icy mask. He pondered my explanation, the gleam in his eyes indicating he was considering the possibilities.
"Don't ask me any more questions," I grinned. "There are some secrets even an informant doesn't easily give away."
Mazen's curiosity, barely concealed, prompted him to ask, "What is he like?"
There was a spark of eager curiosity in his voice, a hint of excitement. For Mazen, Aleshio must have represented a power he aspired to have. Historical records painted Aleshio as a demonic figure of immense power—described as a lord of darkness who could defeat armies and cause widespread destruction. He was feared by all living things, beast and hunter alike, and even by humans. For pages and pages, he was described as a man of terrible power, who takes what he wants and destroys everything he does not. While the records might have been skewed by the victors, Aleshio was indeed painted darker in character than the man I knew.
"Hm, an arrogant alcoholic with nothing better to do than dance on people's nerves or lecture them," I said flatly.
Mazen's surprise was brief, followed by an uncharacteristic chuckle. The smile faded quickly, leaving me with the same dark mage determined to achieve his goals. I knew the moment had come—he was about to ask the real question.
"Why?"
The single word carried a depth of curiosity, accusation, and resignation. Why me and not him? Why do I have everything he wants?
"Because I am king," I declared.
"The four of them are kings as well," he objected. "How are you any different from them? I can sense that you are."
"That's for you to decide," I said.
Mazen was likely relieved I wasn't trying to take over the world myself. He was determined to find his own path to power and didn't need anyone else to do it for him. I held back a small, triumphant smile, knowing he'd already found what he was searching for and didn't need the world. He probably saw it too but was too proud to admit it.
Just minutes after Mazen left, Alex burst into my room like a storm.
"How could you do this?" he demanded.
I kept my eyes on the world beyond the cold glass, not meeting his gaze.
"Everything would feel like a vain excuse," I said. "Which we both know you would not be satisfied with."
"Why?" he asked, almost pleadingly.
"I need him," I answered calmly, still not turning to him.
"He is a dark mage—" he retorted, his voice almost a snarl. "A fucking dark mage!"
"Yes," I said dryly.
Alex pressed his lips together in a sharp line. Every man has his own scent. Rich people smell like money and arrogance. Poor people smell like dirt and resignation.
Alex's rage was palpable. "I hate his kind! He smells like blood! He's a soulless murderer!"
A half-smile touched my lips as I looked at Alex's reflection in the glass, who was now standing like he might cry. There was guilt in his eyes, and I knew he wished he could take back his words.
"It's not the same..." he whispered, his voice almost breaking.
"What's different?" I asked softly. "Like him, I'm a murderer."
His hands clenched into fists.
"Dude," he said, his anger poorly disguised, "You're fucking up big time, and I don't know if I can support your decision."
"You can leave whenever you want," I said, not looking at him. He seemed so fragile in that moment as if he was about to break. "Just don't forget to come back."
I didn't need to see his expression to know he was shocked. He stood silent for nearly a minute before speaking in a whisper.
"I need some time."
I merely nodded. Moments later, the door opened and then closed behind him.
As soon as Alex left, Rolo cautiously opened the door and slipped into the room. I could have reprimanded him for eavesdropping, but I wasn't in the mood.
"What's the matter?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
I didn't respond, keeping my gaze on the window.
"Are you going with him?" I asked.
"I don't want to leave you..." he said softly.
"But you will?"
He considered this for a moment. "No."
"Why?"
"Do you know why he is like this?" Rolo asked instead of answering.
I shrugged. "Because I'm preparing to welcome Mazen into my court. He cannot reconcile his morals with the presence of a dark mage."
"You don't have to hide it from me," Rolo said. "I've seen the way you look at him. The same way you look at me, or Alex. And that was what frightened Alex."
"If he were jealous, he wouldn't have left," I interjected.
"True," Rolo agreed. "But Alex knows you better than anyone. He knows that if you could do anything to make him or me happy, you would. He's afraid you might do the same for Mazen."
I sighed deeply.
Rolo shrugged. "He's afraid you'll make decisions in the future that might harm others. You'll be crowned king soon—you will have power that cannot be ignored."
"And you're not afraid of that?" I snorted.
"Would you help him become the head of the Shadow Veil Syndicate if it would make him happy?" Rolo asked.
"I'll have to deal with the Syndicate sooner or later anyway," I grumbled. "But to answer your question, I probably would."
"Well," Rolo began, "then you have found the answer to your original question."
I raised an eyebrow.
"I'm staying because if you decide to leave the world in the hands of a despicable dark mage, your friends have a better chance of stopping you if they stay close to you."
I chuckled softly, and Rolo grinned. Sometimes he made me so irritated I could strangle him, and other times I felt few were better friends than him. Anyway, I didn't share with him that Mazen would never ask me for help.
"And now, can you help me with an offended Sorcerer Lord?" asked Rolo irritated. "Since you've unleashed him on me."
Rolo retrieved his phone and handed it to me, his expression a mixture of concern and discomfort. I scanned through the new messages from Livius, each one more pointed than the last.
The Sorcerer Lord: [Rolo, I see you've been busy forming alliances with others. I must say, it's quite disappointing to see you not responding to my offer.]
The Sorcerer Lord: [Are you not aware of the prestige and influence that would come with aligning yourself with me? Talambér's presence doesn't change the value of what I can offer.]
The Sorcerer Lord: [I expected more from someone of your potential. If you have doubts, I suggest you reconsider before the opportunity slips away completely.]
The Sorcerer Lord: [This is your last chance to accept my offer before it is withdrawn.]
Wow, he sounds desperate.
I looked back to Rolo, noting his furrowed brow and the tension in his shoulders.
"It seems Livius is quite put off by the fact that you've chosen to engage with Talambér," I mused then grinned devilishly. "Let's make him more upset!"
"You will get me killed," Rolo growled but I already started typing.
Let's push his buttons a bit more.
Rolo: [I am still considering my options and haven't yet decided on your offer.]
The answer came right away.
The Sorcerer Lord: [I'm growing impatient.]
You don't say.
Rolo: [Hm, if you cannot wait for my decision I am afraid, it's clear that our paths are diverging. Thank you for your understanding.]
The Sorcerer Lord: [Do not be hasty, Rolo. I am still open to negotiating. If you reconsider, I can offer terms that might be more appealing. You need to understand the full scope of what I can provide. It's not just about power; it's about influence, access, and opportunities that you won't find elsewhere.]
I watched as Rolo read the new message. His brows furrowed deeper, a mixture of surprise and wariness in his eyes.
"Livius is trying to salvage the situation," I observed, "He's clearly desperate to keep you in his fold."
"He's not giving up easily, is he?" Rolo mused.
He took a deep breath, clearly contemplating our next move. "How should we respond to this?"
I was already typing. "Let's send a message that makes it clear you're still weighing your options, but also subtly hints that you're not fully committed to his offer yet."
Rolo: [I'm open to hearing more about the benefits you're offering. Please provide a detailed outline of the terms and benefits, and I'll consider them carefully. However, I must stress that any decision will be made based on the full value of what's on the table. Time is of the essence, and I need clarity to make an informed choice.]
Livius's response came swiftly, reflecting his clear agitation mixed with his desperation to keep Rolo in his orbit.
The Sorcerer Lord: [I will have my advisors prepare a comprehensive report outlining the benefits and terms of our agreement. Expect it shortly.]
As Rolo read the message, I saw the wheels turning in his head. He was clearly processing the implications of Livius's urgency. I decided it was time to offer some guidance on how to maximize the benefits of Livius's offer.
"Alright, Rolo," I said, leaning forward with a strategic tone. "Here's how you can turn this situation to your full advantage."
Rolo looked up, eager for advice.
"First," I began, "let's analyze Livius's desperation. He's trying to rush you into a decision, which means he's worried about losing you. This is your leverage. You need to play on this anxiety to extract the most value from him."
Rolo nodded, absorbing the information. "And how exactly do we do that?"
"Here's the plan," I said, outlining each step carefully:
Acknowledge the Offer's Value: "When you receive the detailed report, acknowledge that you recognize the value of his offer but make it clear that you're still considering your options. This keeps him in a state of uncertainty and urgency."
Request Additional Perks: "Use the opportunity to request additional perks or concessions. Since he's eager to keep you, he might be willing to offer more to secure your commitment. Ask for things like additional resources, exclusive privileges, or a more favorable deal than what was initially presented."
Negotiate Terms: "Be prepared to negotiate the terms extensively. Don't settle for the first offer. Not even for the second. Push for the most favorable conditions, and be firm about your requirements. Make sure you get everything in writing and understand the implications of each term."
Express Your Value: "Make it clear that you are a valuable asset, and being aligned with you would be mutually beneficial. Remind him subtly of your other options and how you can bring significant advantages to whoever secures your allegiance."
"Okay," he nodded and I handed back his phone.
"Now it's up to you to squeeze all the value out of him," I smiled and ruffled his hair.
(...)
I made my way back from the kitchen. I love midnight cocoa, okay? No shame in that.
I opened the door and stepped inside; I gingerly kicked off my shoes and, with equal urgency, raised my eyes to Mazen standing by the window. After a bored glance, I walked into the tiny study of my bedroom, oblivious to the mage's presence.
Mazen was known for his patience and good manners - aside from his occasional experiments on his followers or cursing them into unconsciousness as a way of relieving tension. If he didn't have such infinite patience, he would have been hysterical that I hadn't even bothered to be surprised by his presence.
Of course, it wasn't in Mazen's nature to throw a tantrum. Instead, he used a few choice words to describe the situation. He waited a few minutes to calm down, ensuring that when he spoke, he wouldn't accidentally cast a nice little torture curse.
The nondescript little room was filled with bookshelves and an old oak desk. Two armchairs and a coffee table faced a tasteful fireplace. Neutral landscapes hung on the walls, giving the room a welcoming ambiance.
Mazen finally moved into the room, his eyes finding me. A satisfied smile appeared on my lips, and he realized I had set him up. He sighed deeply and sank into one of the armchairs, wondering why he hadn't cursed me yet.
I showed him the bottle I'd been hiding behind my back. Mazen understood the function of the two slender wine glasses on the coffee table. I opened the bottle, twisted the cork off the corkscrew, and poured the wine into both glasses. Handing one to him, I sat down with the other in my hand. Mazen ran his eyes thoughtfully over the glass, and my smile widened.
"How did you know?" he asked, unable to hide the interest in his voice.
I shrugged, not telling him that I could sense he was a wine person and wouldn't settle for anything less than the best.
"Let's play a game," I suggested with a mischievous smile.
Mazen anticipated another of my fatal ideas.
"We'll have three glasses of wine," I declared, "and after each glass, we'll tell each other something about ourselves."
He frowned but didn't protest, already tasting the expensive wine. I didn't care that the liquid, too tart for me, was burning my esophagus. This wine was definitely not going to be my favorite.
"I'll go first," I announced.
"My advanced self-healing skills have a weakness," I explained lightly. "They don't work against cats."
Mazen stared in disbelief, but then he saw something in my eyes and no longer doubted me. His eyes looked downright grateful as if a dark mage with a depraved mind could feel anything like gratitude. I wanted our relationship to start from a more even ground.
Mazen took a sip of his wine, but it didn't seem like he intended to speak.
"Did you have any brothers or sisters?" I asked, starting with what I thought was a light, neutral question. Only moments later did I realize it was neither light nor neutral.
Mazen pondered. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe. I never knew my parents."
"They left you?" I inquired.
"Outside the church door," he said. "When I was twelve, I was thrown out of the church. There wasn't enough food, so they had to get rid of some of the children."
He said this as if it were perfectly normal. Then he drank the rest of the wine.
"I see," I said.
With a wave of his hand, the bottle rose and poured into each of our glasses.
"What's your deepest secret?" he asked dryly as if there could be no bigger secret than the cat story.
"None of my most dangerous secrets are my own. For me, it might be that I'm king."
He frowned.
"When did you find out?" he asked finally.
"I knew before I confronted the previous Fifth," I said.
He frowned more but didn't ask further.
"So," I began, "were you in love with Lil?"
His eyes widened in disbelief, then he pursed his lips. "No, but she meant more to me than anyone else. She is and always will be my master."
"You know you haven't lost her," I said softly. "Now you're on the same side."
He smiled mockingly. "What side?"
Sure, their ideas, goals, and means may not align, but something important has changed.
"On my side," I replied lightly but seriously.
Mazen didn't seem sure of my truth but didn't protest. He must have finally realized that it wasn't worth fighting me. He can't really win. His turn came.
"That night," he began quietly, "you had Pitou and Liou in your sights all the time. Not me."
I shrugged. "I was just lucky."
He nodded uncertainly. "My name. How did you find it out?"
"Good question," I mused. "It all started when my seer friend couldn't see into my future. Every time he tried, all he heard was a name, in my voice."
He looked at me with confused disbelief.
"I think maybe I knew your name in the future," I wondered, "but maybe not. Who knows? I don't really like to think about it because everything in predictions is so malleable and unnervingly uncertain."
He nodded slowly.
"My last question," I announced. "What do you want to do?"
He thought carefully, remaining silent for several minutes. We sipped our last glass of wine in silence. I took my time, knowing he had to chew things over.
"I plan," he began formally, "to monitor your progress for a while. I have found you can cause me some amusement."
I smiled and nodded. "Very well."
That was an unspoken oath. I downed the rest of the wine, stood up, and nearly collapsed back into the chair. The wine hit me overwhelmingly, and I felt dizzy from the sudden rush of alcohol. What the fuck? What was in that fucking wine?
Mazen's lips curled upwards.
"Indeed, the wines made by fae are somewhat stronger," he remarked. "They are infused by magic."
I muttered some swear words and clung to the back of the armchair. It took Mazen half an hour to get me into the bedroom. Despite my obvious stupor, I protested his help. Offended, he lifted me with a spell and floated me into the other room. Grunting, I pulled my pillow to me and curled into a fetal position. Mazen stood by the bedside, looking at me thoughtfully.
"Hrmmpffss…" I mumbled into my pillow.
"What?" he asked back.
I averted my eyes from him. "Thanks."
Mazen merely nodded, not hiding the smile curling on his lips. That night, he discovered I had another amusing weakness besides cats.
"Sleep," he said. "You have four hours until your big day."
Just as I was drifting off, the door creaked open, and Crimson stormed in. His eyes widened at the sight of me sprawled on the bed, clearly intoxicated. He shot a piercing look at Mazen, who stood calmly by the bedside.
"What have you done to him?" Crimson demanded, his voice edged with panic.
"Relax," Mazen replied smoothly. "He's just had some fae wine."
Turns out I wasn't as tolerant of it as I thought. I knew my tolerance was high with normal alcohol. I though it would be fine.
I managed to lift my head slightly, my vision swimming. "'M fine, Crimson," I slurred. "Not poisoned," I mumbled, trying to reassure him. "Jus' drunk."
Well, it wasn't fine.
Crimson's shoulders relaxed slightly, but his eyes still burned with concern. "Fae wine?"
Crimson's gaze flicked back to Mazen, distrust evident in his eyes. "We'll talk when you're sober," he said sternly. "I don't like this one bit."
Mazen met his stare with a cool, unflinching expression. "He'll be fine in the morning."
With a final, piercing look at Mazen, Crimson turned and left the room. The door clicked shut behind him, and I let out a long breath.
"You really know how to pick your friends," Mazen remarked dryly. "Crimson too? Really?"
I managed a weak smile.
"Sleep now. You'll need your strength."
I nodded, too tired to argue, and let the darkness of sleep take me.