"Let's run it back," Cronos said, his finger pounding impatiently against the heavy oak table.
Each rapid tap echoed in the cold, stone chamber, a rhythmic sound that seemed to shake the very air.
The Elders sitting before him couldn't help but flinch at the noise. They were accustomed to Cronos' presence — he was, after all, the rightful heir to the village, but today there was something different about him.
Something... unsettling.
His silver hair gleamed under the dim lighting, and his crimson eyes, which normally carried an air of calm command, now burned with a sharpness that made even the seasoned Elders uneasy. They exchanged nervous glances but dared not speak, knowing better than to interrupt the lord when he was in this mood.
"What are the problems the town is facing now?" Cronos asked, his voice tight with frustration. His hand passed through his silver hair again, as if trying to smooth away the weight of the situation.
One of the Elders, a nervous man with a patchy beard and trembling hands, cleared his throat before speaking, his voice shaky.
"The townsfolk… they complain of hunger. They say the food we have isn't enough to feed everyone." He paused, his eyes shifting to the others for support before continuing, "And the little that is left seems to vanish too quickly."
Cronos raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharpening. "Where have these foodstuffs been going?" His tone was calm, but the pressure in the room was palpable.
"To Ether Town, my lord," the Elder replied, his voice cracking under the weight of the truth. "We've been sending most of our resources there."
Ether Town. The name sent a cold shiver through Cronos. It was a neighboring settlement, not far from Blackwood, and until now, he hadn't realized how much of a threat it posed.
It seemed that Ether Town had been quietly undermining his leadership, taking what was rightfully his.
'Seems like that will be the first place I conquer.' Cronos thought, the wheels of his mind already turning.
But his focus quickly shifted back to the Elders in front of him, and the gravity of the moment settled in. He couldn't afford to let his anger cloud his judgment, not now. He had a plan, and it needed to start here, with these men who had failed him.
"The town is going through a stage of decline, and that's because of your poor leadership," Cronos said, his voice low and filled with disappointment. "Look at your bellies," he continued, his eyes scanning each Elder's rotund figure. "You're well-fed while the townsfolk are starving. Not only is our town falling apart, but our resources are too. The houses are falling apart — wooden and old — and while other territories are advancing, we're slipping further into decline." He paused, the silence heavy with his words. "What have you done to stop it?"
An Elder near the far end of the table, his face red with indignation, slammed both palms onto the surface with a force that made the room tremble.
His eyes locked onto Cronos with contempt, and for a moment, the younger lord saw the bitterness there, like a deep wound that had never healed.
"When your father disappeared, when you were too young to rule, we were the ones who took over the reins," Elder Ren spat, his voice dripping with resentment. "We kept the village together while you hid away, unsure of what to do. We're the reason this town has survived at all, and you have the audacity to tell us we've failed?"
Cronos' crimson gaze never wavered. He could feel the simmering anger rising in his chest, but he held it in check. There was no room for weakness now.
"But I do, Elder Ren," Cronos said, his voice calm yet filled with an edge of steel. "You may have kept things running while using me but look at what you've done. The town is crumbling, and you've let it happen. Don't fool yourself into thinking this is still your domain. I've returned to take my place as lord, and that starts today."
He stood, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a storm about to break.
The Elders shifted uncomfortably in their seats, unsure of how to react. Some seemed relieved; others, like Ren, bristled with defiance.
"Tomorrow, I want a full report on Blackwood's economy," Cronos continued, his voice now cutting through the tension with sharp precision. "I want to know what's going wrong. What are we lacking? What can we salvage?"
His eyes bore into the table, but his words were for everyone in the room. "A report on every sector — the food supply, the infrastructure, our trade agreements with other territories, our resources. I'll need it all."
He took a step forward, his boots clicking loudly against the stone floor, making it clear he wasn't going to entertain any further resistance.
"I expect the truth, Elders. No exaggerations, no embellishments. If I find out that you've been hiding the truth from me, I don't care if my father trusted you, or if you were his loyal council." His gaze shifted, and every Elder in the room seemed to feel the weight of his stare. "I'll take your titles from you in an instant."
The room was dead silent as Cronos' words sank in, his threat lingering in the air like a storm cloud. The Elders were speechless, their faces a mixture of fear and grudging respect.
With that, Cronos turned his back to them and made his way toward the door. His steps were measured, purposeful, and each one carried the promise of something greater. As his hand reached the door handle, he paused for a moment, not looking back at the room full of stunned Elders.
"I'll be taking the reins from here," he said, his voice unwavering. "I'll expect everything tomorrow."
And with that, he left.
The heavy door creaked shut behind him, and the Elders were left to contemplate the storm that was coming.