"How are things progressing?" Tom asked, his voice calm but laced with a quiet intensity. He directed his gaze at the figure who had suddenly appeared by his side.
The elf, his features sharp and ethereal, bowed his head slightly. "I've delivered the message," he replied. "The elves know that the intruder has arrived. They're already making arrangements to handle the situation."
Tom chuckled softly, the sound carrying a mix of satisfaction and calculation. "Perfect. Everything's falling into place. The elves are beginning to lose faith in him." He paused, his smile widening. "I've been dropping hints about my dear niece... just enough to sow a little doubt. With any luck, that suspicion will turn into isolation later on."
The elf raised an eyebrow, curious. "Your niece? What about the rest of them?"
Tom waved a hand dismissively. "The others haven't pieced it together yet. Based on my observations, only two in this whole group know anything about my background. If things go as planned, when he makes his move, they'll act out of confusion and protect me. In their eyes, I'm still just the 'kind uncle.'"
The elf's lips curled in disgust. "That's sickening."
Tom's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "And yet, they call me a traitor to the elves?"
"To them, it's all the same," the elf muttered. "None of us are saints. No need for pretenses here."
---
Far away, in the depths of a dense forest, a dark-haired man moved silently toward his destination. He had received word from his spy that Oliver had arrived. The time had come to set his long-laid plan into motion; something he had kept hidden for over a year.
"Teacher," he called softly, approaching a small elf with silver hair, her eyes closed as if she were meditating; or asleep. "The moment we've been waiting for is here. The elves are on edge, their discussions at a boiling point."
The air seemed to hum with tension as if the universe itself acknowledged the significance of this moment. Time itself felt like a ticking clock, indifferent to the lives it would destroy in its relentless march forward.
Perhaps, Oliver's only regret would be realizing he had waited too long before making his move.
---
Oliver felt his eyelids twitch, an involuntary spasm that sent a shiver down his spine. The feeling of unease gnawed at him, a cold sweat breaking out across his back. Clutching four smoke bombs tightly in his hand, he muttered to himself, "Something's off. Why do I feel so uneasy?"
His sharp eyes scanned the vast building, noting that the only exits were four gates; one at each cardinal direction. The place was crowded, making any attempt to slip away unnoticed nearly impossible. Climbing the walls was technically an option, but given his current physical condition, he doubted he'd make it far before exhausting himself.
"Troublesome," he sighed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
"Everyone, the food is ready!" Tom's voice rang out, cutting through the tense atmosphere. He approached the group, his presence warm and welcoming, though a shadow of mischief lingered beneath the surface. "Come in, it's all set up just ahead. You wouldn't want it to get cold, would you?"
Lesley, ever polite, nodded and thanked him. "Thank you, Uncle," she said, taking Sandra's hand and leading the way toward the dining hall. The rest of the group followed, Oliver included, though his instincts screamed at him to remain cautious. To avoid arousing suspicion, he let his bird, a silent sentinel in the sky; circle overhead, keeping watch.
The dining hall was a vision of luxury. A red carpet stretched across the floor, sunlight streaming through the glass walls, casting a soft glow over the immaculate setting. The table was draped in pristine white cloth, laden with an array of exquisite dishes: vibrant fruits, fragrant soups, tender grilled meats, and crystal-clear juices that sparkled in the light.
For a moment, the group hesitated at the entrance, hunger warring with caution. They stood frozen, save for the occasional sound of someone gulping audibly, tempted by the feast before them. Was it embarrassment, or was there something more to their reluctance?
Tom couldn't help but laugh, seeing their hesitation. "What are you waiting for? I said it's on me, go ahead and enjoy! Don't be shy."
A group of people rushed toward the table, ignoring the dust on their hands, and began greedily shoving food into their mouths. It was as if they hadn't seen a decent meal in ages and for some, that was exactly the case.
In the small coastal town where they had come from, there was nothing remotely this delicious. The return to the college had left them no time to savor proper food, and they had barely unpacked their bags before embarking on a grueling journey that lasted days. They hadn't even had the luxury of a single bite of fresh vegetables, let alone meat.
Sandra carefully picked a selection of fruits, arranging them on two plates, one for herself and one for him. Lesley, holding a glass of juice, stood by her side, his eyes soft with concern as he watched over his companion. Meanwhile, Chris grabbed a cloth to wrap his hands before seizing a skewer of grilled meat. He tore into it hungrily, clearly trying to replenish his energy after the long trip. Enola, though quieter, sipped a bowl of thick, fragrant soup, her brow still creased with worry, though the warm meal seemed to soothe her somewhat.
All around them, other students; strangers to some; devoured the feast in their own way. The room buzzed with the sounds of contented chewing and clinking utensils, as the initial tension gave way to hunger.
But two people hadn't touched a single bite yet: Oliver and Tom.
Oliver stood back, observing. His reasons for not eating were twofold. He had snacked earlier on the road, so he wasn't starving, but more importantly, he felt uneasy. Something about the atmosphere set him on edge. Why wasn't Tom eating either? It wasn't like him to ignore a lavish spread.
At that moment, Tom quietly walked past the crowd, slipping through unnoticed. He ascended the platform against the far wall, a subtle shift in the air signaling he was about to speak. The room hushed, all eyes turning toward him.
"Everyone," Tom began, his voice smooth but commanding, "I want to thank you for coming today and for accompanying my dear nephew. I truly appreciate it." He paused, bowing slightly in gratitude before continuing. "But there's another reason I gathered you all here."
Oliver furrowed his brow, distracted. Another reason? Was there someone else here with a connection to Tom? He scratched his head, feeling increasingly unsettled.
"I wish to honor someone very special," Tom said, his voice growing louder, more dramatic. "A great man whom I deeply admire!" He gestured grandly, though he made no eye contact with anyone in particular. "This man has disrupted my operations time and time again, costing me immense losses. Yet, every time, he has effortlessly completed his tasks and eluded capture without a scratch. His skill is unparalleled, and I respect him for that. So, today, I want to make him an offer."
The students exchanged confused glances, whispering among themselves. Who could he be talking about? Their eyes darted around the room, trying to spot this mysterious figure.
Oliver's heart pounded. His lazy demeanor faded, replaced with focused attention. Could he mean me? Tom's description matched his own exploits, but it didn't make sense. Oliver had always kept his identity hidden from anyone outside human territories. There was no way Tom could know it was him, was there?
Just as Oliver's mind began to spin with doubt, Tom shattered the illusion with his next words.
"I am willing to offer him 100,000 gold coins a month," he announced, his eyes gleaming. "If he agrees to join our Chamber of Commerce."
A collective gasp filled the room. One hundred thousand gold coins? For these students, most of whom had yet to graduate, that was an astronomical sum. The murmurs grew louder as they tried to figure out who could be worthy of such a reward.
Oliver's blood ran cold. He stood frozen as realization dawned. Tom knew. But how?
With a disgusted snort, Tom cut through the rising chatter. "What are you talking about?" he scoffed, glaring in Oliver's direction. "How could I have made a mistake? You've been disrupting my business for too long to play innocent now."
Oliver's stomach twisted. He had been found out. But how?
Tom's voice grew quieter but sharper, dripping with malice. "There are many things in this world that money can buy, including your identity; Shooter of the Expressionless Mask." He smiled, a predator who had finally cornered his prey. "I didn't just come here to invite you. I came to capture you. And I've already set up personnel in another border city, just in case."
Before Oliver could even process what was happening, a crash echoed through the room as glass shattered. From the surrounding buildings, heavily armed adventurers poured in, their weapons gleaming as they surrounded him, their eyes trained on their target.
Every escape route was cut off. The trap had been set, and now it had sprung, right on Oliver.