The town of Blackwood had once been a thriving, bustling hub, a beacon of prosperity.
For over a decade, it had flourished under the leadership of Cronos's father. The people were fed, the market was full, and there was a sense of pride in the air.
But now, the streets told a different story.
The people were hungry, the stalls were barren, and resources were being squandered.
The previous lord, Cronos's father, had disappeared without a trace, leaving the town to flounder under the mismanagement of the Council of Elders.
The people were restless, their frustration growing as the days passed. They had no faith in their new lord, not yet.
"But not anymore," Cronos muttered under his breath, the words steely and filled with resolve.
His steps were firm as he walked through the town, his robes trailing behind him in the wind.
The town was a far cry from its former glory. The wooden houses looked old, worn, and the market stalls were a meager reflection of what they used to be.
The streets, once alive with the laughter and chatter of people, were now quiet, almost eerie.
The few who were still out in the streets didn't look at him with admiration — they didn't look at him with anything but disdain.
Their eyes, filled with silent judgment, followed him as he walked past, but none dared voice their anger. The weight of their discontent was heavy in the air, and Cronos could feel it with each step.
They resented him. They resented the fact that he was now their lord, despite the town's declining condition.
His presence, however, was a reminder of their failures, a reminder that the council had failed to lead them properly. They were desperate, and desperation bred contempt.
Cronos ignored the cold glares as he continued his path. The wind tugged at his silver hair, his thoughts unwavering.
The town may have fallen, but he wasn't going to let it stay that way. Not on his watch. Change was coming, whether they liked it or not.
He could hear the murmur of voices around him — the murmurs of people going about their daily lives, some hawking what little they had left to sell, others working in the fields to fulfill their daily quotas.
Each person was a cog in a broken machine, struggling to turn the wheel as the gears ground to a halt. But Cronos wouldn't let it stay this way. Not when he had a role to play.
Soon, he arrived at the meeting place. A large hut, far grander than the rest in the area, stood ahead.
It wasn't a palace, but in a town like Blackwood, it was as close as one could get to a symbol of authority.
This was the heart of the town's rule — the place where the Council of Elders met to discuss the town's fate, with him. They had ruled in the original's presence, making decisions that had driven Blackwood further into decline.
It was time for that to change. Cronos was taking the reins now.
Two guards stood at attention outside the hut, spears in hand, their faces stoic.
They didn't need to speak — one look at Cronos's silver hair and commanding presence made it clear who he was.
As he approached, they moved to open the door, stepping aside without a word.
"Good morning, Lord Cronos," the guards greeted in unison, their voices a mix of respect and caution.
Cronos nodded in acknowledgment, stepping past them and into the hut. The air inside was thick with tension, the smell of old wood and dust hanging in the air.
The room was dimly lit, but it wasn't the surroundings that caught his attention — it was the faces of the people seated around the large table. The Council of Elders had gathered.
The moment he stepped inside, their eyes turned to him. Their gazes were sharp, calculating, and something else — something more predatory.
It wasn't admiration in their eyes. It was something darker. Something Cronos had become all too familiar with.
Wicked smiles.
It was as if they were wolves sizing up a fresh kill.
Cronos held their gazes, his face an unreadable mask.
The councilors, seated on opposite sides of the table, didn't bother hiding their amusement.
They thought he was weak — just a boy thrust into a position he wasn't prepared for. But Cronos was far from that.
He wasn't here for games or idle chatter. He had a plan, and it didn't include letting these power-hungry elders control him.
The council leader, an older man with a thin, greying beard, gestured for Cronos to sit at the head of the table. His tone was polite, but there was no mistaking the condescension behind his words.
"Lord Cronos, I trust you've had a pleasant morning," the leader said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Cronos didn't respond immediately. He didn't need to. Instead, he walked slowly toward the seat at the head of the table, his gaze sweeping over each council member.
They shifted under his stare, some of them uncomfortable with his silence, others trying to mask their growing unease. But it didn't matter. Cronos wasn't interested in small talk.
He took his seat and placed his hands on the table, his silver hair falling loosely around his face.
"You all know why I'm here," Cronos said, his voice steady and firm. "Blackwood Town is in decline. You have failed to lead it properly. And while you've been enjoying your power, my people have been suffering. The days of your control are over."
The council members exchanged quick glances, their smiles faltering for just a moment. But the leader quickly recovered, his expression hardening.
"We are the ones who've kept the town running in your father's absence, Lord Cronos," the council leader replied, his voice cold. "You may have been handed this title, but you have no real experience in leadership."
Cronos leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking onto the man's. "Experience? No. But I've seen enough to know when a town is dying. And Blackwood is dying. If you think I'm going to sit back and let it wither under your watch, you're mistaken."
The room was quiet. The tension was palpable.
Cronos wasn't going to be a puppet, not for them, not for anyone. The time for subtlety was over. He needed to take charge, and he wouldn't let anyone stand in his way.
The council members remained silent, their wicked smiles replaced by uncertain frowns.