The evening in Narzan was tranquil; however, this serenity was disrupted only by the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the cobblestone. The approaching carriages presented a stark contrast to the peaceful twilight, their opulence glinting in the light of the grand torches that flanked the mansion gates. On the upper balcony of the mansion, Shun leaned casually against the railing, his eyes narrowing as the convoy neared. Beside him, Emma stood with her customary composure, arms folded neatly. The disparity between the two siblings was apparent in the manner they observed the scene unfolding below. "Our big brother, the loner, actually hosting a dinner? Did hell freeze over, or is this the beginning of the apocalypse?" Emma did not respond immediately; instead, she flicked his forehead with enough force to elicit a wince. "Idiot. If he has guests, it's serious. Don't make light of it." Below, Roy remained at the grand entrance, motionless. His imposing figure—clad in a long black coat with crimson trim—seemed to absorb the flickering torchlight, rendering him more akin to a shadow than a man. His red eyes, piercing and cold, scanned the carriages as they drew closer, revealing an unsettling intensity.
The initial carriage came to a stop, its gilded structure mirroring the flickering firelight. The door swung open to disclose **Baron Liron**—a man whose affluence was as flamboyant as his character. Adorned in silks of vivid green and gold, his outfit served as a conspicuous exhibition of his wealth; however, the smirk upon his face implied that he considered his cleverness to be his most significant asset. "Ah, Supreme Commander Roy. What an honor to receive your invitation," he declared. His tone was smooth, almost derisive, as he alighted from the carriage with exaggerated grace. Roy's demeanor remained unchanged, his gaze momentarily scanning the Baron before shifting to the subsequent carriage. The second carriage was considerably less ostentatious, but it emanated an aura of intrigue. From within, **Lady Isolde** emerged, her movements fluid and almost predatory. She was draped in dark purple velvet, her visage concealed by a veil that glimmered subtly. Her presence was disconcerting, as if she bore secrets that were too perilous to unveil. "Roy, such a warm welcome. I almost feel at home," she murmured, her voice soft—almost a whisper—yet it possessed a sharpness that commanded attention.
The final carriage came to a halt with a resounding thud. Its occupant (General Kargath) stepped out with deliberate force; his boots clanking against the cobblestone. This towering figure had a scarred face and worn armor that served as a testament to his countless battles. He exuded an air of authority, however, his every movement reflected discipline and strength. Although he appeared formidable, there was something more, something hidden beneath the surface.
**General Kargath**
His greeting was terse, straightforward and completely lacking in any pleasantries (or niceties). Roy assessed the three visitors with the slightest nod, his crimson gaze betraying neither warmth nor animosity. His voice, composed yet authoritative, shattered the silence: "Good. You're all here. Let's not waste time pretending this is a friendly gathering. Follow me." The guests exchanged cautious glances, however, they complied, each one silently weighing their next move as Roy turned and guided them into the mansion.
From the balcony, Shun whistled low.
What an enchanting group (indeed). I cannot wait to observe who attempts to eliminate whom first; however, the anticipation is almost palpable. This situation is intriguing because it raises questions about motives. Although it seems lighthearted, there is an underlying tension. But, one must wonder what will transpire next.
Emma sighed, shaking her head.
Focus, Shun. This is bigger than you think."
---
The Tense Dinner started.
The dining hall stood as a testament to Narzan's opulence and authority. A magnificent chandelier, composed of wrought iron and crystal, illuminated the space with a warm radiance, casting elaborate designs upon the polished marble floors. A lengthy table extended throughout the room, adorned with delicacies that could evoke envy even among lesser nobles. Roy occupied the head of the table, his demeanor relaxed; however, his crimson eyes remained keen, scrutinizing every movement with a disconcerting focus. To his right, Lady Isolde perched, her veil partially raised so that she could sip from an exquisite glass. On his left, General Kargath rested his hand near his sword, suggesting that the meal served merely as a diversion from more pressing dangers. Seated further down, Baron Liron occupied himself with the food, but his restless eyes revealed an underlying tension. The quiet was disrupted by Lady Isolde's cunning smile. "Roy, hosting such an extravagant dinner! I never imagined you to be the social butterfly. People might begin to think you've gone soft." Roy lazily swirled his wine glass, his attention fixed on the deep red liquid. "Soft? No. Although at times, it is advantageous to remind others of where the true power resides." Baron Liron leaned in, his smirk re-emerging as he set his goblet down with a resonant clink.
"Pray tell, Supreme Commander, do the inhabitants of Narzan slumber in tranquility under your governance, or do they, perhaps, utter curses against your name in their subconscious?" The chamber descended into a profound silence. Roy placed his wine glass down with intention; the sound reverberated ominously throughout the room. His gaze fixated on Liron's and the atmosphere became increasingly oppressive. "And do they, Baron, speak ill of you as they inter their kin, casualties of your negligence?" Liron's previous smirk evaporated, substituted by an expression of furious disdain. Lady Isolde emitted a soft chuckle and even General Kargath permitted a fleeting smirk to grace his features before reverting to his customary stoicism.
---
The doors to the dining hall burst open and a pallid messenger stumbled in, his breath labored. **Messenger**: "Supreme Commander! Assassins have been apprehended in the city square. They claim… they were sent by one of your guests!" The room erupted into chaos (this was unexpected). Baron Liron sprang to his feet, his face flushed with indignation. "Lies! A baseless accusation meant to stir trouble!" Lady Isolde's calm demeanor cracked slightly; however, she quickly regained her composure. "What an unfortunate coincidence. Surely you don't believe this nonsense, Roy." Roy remained seated, his expression inscrutable. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, but it bore an edge that silenced the room. "Interesting. And yet, the timing couldn't be more perfect." He rose from his seat, his imposing presence commanding attention. "Grey, seal the gates. No one leaves until this matter is resolved. And bring the assassins to me."
Mind Games Begin**
Roy's interrogation was as meticulous and deliberate as a seasoned swordsman's strikes. He dismantled their alibis (with) cold logic and razor-sharp wit, exposing cracks in their facades. To Lady Isolde, he whispered details of her dealings in the Black Market; however, he watched as her veiled composure wavered. To Baron Liron, he produced an intercepted letter bearing his crest, which forced the man into a stammering defense. Although this tactic was effective, it revealed more than just guilt; it exposed the fragility of their carefully constructed lies.
Finally, he turned to General Kargath.
**Roy**: "And you, General—silent as ever. A wise tactic (or perhaps a guilty one)?" Kargath's hand firmly gripped his sword; however, he did not rise to the bait. Although the tension was palpable, this moment lingered in the air.
---
After hours of tension, Roy (finally) revealed his hand. "While you squabble for scraps, a storm brews. The Iron Veli—a faction of rebels, victims of your greed and incompetence—rises in the shadows. If they succeed, your petty schemes will amount to nothing." His crimson eyes burned, however, as he delivered his final warning. "Work with me, or be crushed. The choice is yours."