The crippled grandmaster wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his sleeve, his glare still sharp as a blade dulled by rust, but something in his posture had shifted, and though his jaw was set in defiance, the flicker in his eyes betrayed a man caught between his rage and the spark of hope he had long thought extinguished. Lucas leaned closer, his words calm yet cutting through the silence that stretched between them like a drawn bowstring.

"If you prove yourself to be a good servant," Lucas said evenly, "if you abandon the venom of old grudges and show me loyalty with your actions instead of empty words, then I might consider giving you what you crave most. I might consider placing in your hand a potion that could restore what you have lost, your cultivation, your strength, the life you mourn every day."

The grandmaster's head jerked slightly, his eyes widening as if he had just been struck a second time, though this time the blow was hope itself. For a long moment he did not speak, his chest heaving with the effort of mastering the sudden surge of longing that welled inside him, but then his voice rasped out, shaky, almost unwilling.

"Are you sure?" he asked, suspicion and yearning twined together in his tone.

Lucas did not smile, nor did he show mercy in his gaze. "I said I might consider it if you bend that stubborn pride of yours and show me you are more than your bitterness, then perhaps your story will not end as a crippled shadow of what you once were."

The old man's lips pressed into a thin line, his pride clearly at war with the fire that had just been kindled in his chest. His hands trembled faintly, whether from rage or from longing, none could tell, but at last he gave a small, stiff nod. It was not surrender, but it was acknowledgment.

"Very well," he muttered, the weight of his decision dragging the words from him. "I will listen and I will do as you say…"

Lucas straightened, his expression calm as the guards stepped forward on his signal. "Drag him to another carriage," he ordered. "He will travel under guard until I decide he has earned more freedom."

The guards bowed in acknowledgment, gripping the old man by the arms as they hauled him away.

When the old man was gone, Lucas turned and moved toward his own carriage, where Nyx and Lira were waiting near the steps. Selene lingered a pace back, her expression unreadable, though her eyes flickered briefly toward Lucas with something between resentment and curiosity.

As Lucas stepped up into the carriage, Nyx tilted her head and asked softly, "Do you think he can be trusted? He does not strike me as a man who bends easily."

Lucas settled into his seat and replied, "Trust will not be given to him, only tested. He will learn quickly that his survival depends on my word, and if he is wise, he will cling to that chance . If he proves himself, he may yet become valuable. If not, he will learn what it means to be discarded."

Lira, who had been quiet until then, frowned slightly, her gentle voice carrying unease. "I don't like him, Master. There is darkness in his eyes. He could betray you when you least expect it."

Lucas met her gaze, his tone firm but not unkind. "I know, Lira. That is why I will keep him close, where I can see him. A snake in the grass is dangerous only when you forget it is there."

Selene, leaning against the side of the carriage, let out a faint huff, her tone edged but laced with something grudgingly respectful. "You are bold to think you can leash a man like that. He looks at you as if he would rather kill you in your sleep."

Lucas's lips curved into a faint smile, but his eyes stayed serious. "Then let him try. He will find that the space between life and death is a place I walk more comfortably than he ever could."

The conversation ended there, the four of them shifted into place within the carriage. The interior was wide, lined with cushioned seats and polished wood, the scent of oil and leather still clinging to it. Nyx nestled closer to Lucas, her arm brushing his lightly, while Lira folded her hands neatly in her lap, her gaze often flickering toward him as though searching for reassurance. Selene sat opposite, her arms crossed, eyes trained on the passing light outside the small window as though unwilling to reveal her thoughts.

When at last the signal was given and the convoy began to move. The journey to Lechia had begun.

Inside his mind, however, Lucas was far from idle. He thought of Lechia, the weight of responsibility his king had entrusted to him, and most of all, of the woman who sat upon its throne. He had heard of the Empress's cunning, her ability to charm and devour political opponents with the same grace one would sip wine. She was described as a vixen in human form, beautiful, shrewd, and merciless when crossed. Lucas let out a quiet breath, leaning his head back slightly.

"She will be dangerous," he thought silently. "Cunning, seductive, always several steps ahead. But she bleeds and schemes like anyone else. I must tread carefully, but I will not bend. If she is a vixen, then I will be the fox who knows when to bite back."

For a moment, he allowed those thoughts to linger, imagining the games that might unfold between them, the veiled words and hidden intentions. Then he shook his head faintly, dismissing the speculation with the firmness of someone who refused to drown in uncertainty before even stepping into battle.

"No," he told himself. "There is no use worrying over what is not yet before me. The present demands my attention."

He shifted slightly, drawing the curtain aside just enough to look at the guards riding beside the convoy. Their armor glinted beneath the morning sun, and their disciplined movements reassured him of their loyalty. With a subtle gesture, he called to one of the riders, a young but sharp-eyed soldier who spurred his horse closer to the carriage window.

"Yes, my lord?" the guard asked, bowing his head slightly as he kept pace with the moving carriage.

Lucas's voice was calm but clear. "When we reach the Alchemic Assembly Settlement, you will halt the convoy. Have the men remain in formation and wait for my return. I have someone I wish to see before we continue."

"As you command, my lord. Shall I ask who this person is, so we may make the proper arrangements?"

Lucas's lips curved faintly, though the smile did not reach his eyes. "There is no need. I will go myself. It is a personal visit, nothing more."

Nyx, who had been listening quietly, tilted her head curiously. "A personal visit? In the middle of such an important journey? Who is it you wish to see, Lucas?"

Lucas turned to her, his expression softening. "An acquaintance. Lady Cecilia. It would be rude to pass by without greeting her, and besides, there may be things she knows that could prove useful in what lies ahead."

Selene smirked faintly, her tone edged with her usual sharpness. "So, we are already making detours for women, are we? I suppose I should not be surprised."

Lucas met her eyes briefly, unbothered by her jab. "If I were only chasing women, Selene, I would not be sitting here, burdened with the fate of alliances. Do not mistake strategy for lust."

Her smirk faded, though she said nothing more, settling back in her seat with her arms folded.

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