Chapter 86: The Only Way Out
Kael's words hung in the air of the quiet teahouse like a poisonous mist. A conceptual weapon. The Aetherium. Silas Vane as a pawn of capital nobles. It was a web of intrigue so vast and convoluted it made my head spin. This was exactly the kind of political quagmire I had fled Torak to avoid. Back there, it was Freya, the Princess, and the King's shadow war. Here, it was the same damn game with maybe different players, Evander and his Aetherium on one side, Silas and his shadowy backers on the other.
I wasn't a hero. I wasn't a revolutionary. I was a man trying to survive a hundred missions, and my best shot at that was building a power base that wasn't solely reliant on my increasingly battered sword arm. This manga venture was supposed to be my safe harbor, my quiet retirement fund in the making. Not a flagship in someone else's war.
I looked at Kael, at his cool, expectant expression. He was a creature of this shadow world, thriving in its complexities. He saw me as a piece to be moved, an asset to be acquired. If I hired him, I would be stepping fully onto that board, acknowledging my role as a pawn in a game I didn't understand and wanted no part of.
"No," I said, the word firm and final.
Kael's eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly. "No?"
"No deal," I clarified, pushing my chair back and standing up. "I'm not hiring you. I'm not buying your information. I'm not playing this game."
A slow, Intrigued smile spread across his face. It wasn't the reaction he'd expected. "A bold, if foolish, declaration. How do you propose to avoid a game you're already a central piece in?"
"By leaving the board," I said, the plan crystallizing in my mind as I spoke. "You can keep your shadows and your conspiracies. I want no part of it."
I turned and walked out of the teahouse without a backward glance, half-expecting a knife in my back. None came. Kael wasn't the type for messy, public murders. He would simply note my refusal and recalculate. I had just made myself an unpredictable variable, and in his world, that was either a threat or a waste of time. I was counting on becoming the latter.
The walk back to The Grumbling Gryphon was a blur of frantic planning. Evander wanted us to go to his remote northern estate, a gilded cage where he could control the narrative and the output. But that would just be moving to a different square on the same board, still under his thumb, still a target for Silas's backers.
There was only one place that made sense. One place where the rules were different, where I had a semblance of a reputation, and where the political currents, while present, weren't actively trying to drown me in my sleep.
Torak.
It was a fortress city, hardened by the recent beast tide. Its guards were vigilant, its guild was strong, and it was far from the capital's direct influence. More importantly, it was the Iron Fang's territory. While I had no desire to get entangled in their world, the presence of Freya and the City Lord's authority created a stability that Silveridge, for all its art and culture, clearly lacked. It was the one place where producing a "conceptual weapon" might actually be safe.
I burst back into our rooms. Laron was still pacing, but Briza was sitting up in bed, the tremors having subsided into a profound, bone-deep weariness. Her color was better, but her eyes were shadowed. She looked at me, a question in her gaze.
"We're leaving," I announced before either of them could speak. "Tomorrow. As planned. But we're not going north to Evander's estate."
Laron's ears perked up. "We're not? Then where…"
"We're going back to Torak," I stated.
The silence that followed was stunned.
"Torak?" Laron squeaked. "But… the Patron… our agreement! The venture is here! The printing contacts, the distribution…"
"The venture is wherever we are," I cut him off. "And right now, it's a target here. Silas Vane isn't going to stop. Evander wants to hide us away. I'm not spending the next year looking over my shoulder in some remote manor. In Torak, we have the guild's protection. The city's walls. It's safe."
"Safe?" Briza's voice was a dry rasp, but it held a core of steel. "You think a city that was just besieged by a magically-controlled beast horde is safe?"
"It's safer than a city where the crime lord is a proxy for a political coup," I shot back.
That shut them up. Laron stared at me, his mind visibly reeling. Briza just studied me, her expression unreadable.
"The Patron will never allow it," Laron finally whispered, as if saying it too loud would summon Evander's wrath.
"He doesn't have a choice," I said, a grim determination settling over me. "It's the only logical move. He just doesn't see it because he's too busy playing his shadow games. I need to make him see."
I didn't give them time to argue. I turned and marched out, heading straight for Evander's manor. I was done being a passive participant. This was my legacy too, and I would not let it be buried in someone else's war.
I was admitted into his study much more quickly this time. He was standing by the window, his back to me, the very picture of a man betrayed.
"I assume you have come to your senses," he said, not turning around. "The carriages for the north will be ready at dawn."
"No," I said, my voice echoing in the spacious room. "We're not going north. We're taking Elara and the project, and we're returning to Torak tomorrow."
He spun around, his face a mask of thunderous disbelief. "You are what? Have you lost your mind entirely? I am not funding your retreat!"
"It's not a retreat; it's a strategic relocation!" I countered, stepping forward. "Think, Evander! You're so worried about this being a conceptual weapon, but you want to hide it away where no one can see it? What's the point? In Torak, we can produce it safely, behind the strongest walls on this side of the continent. The beast tide proved that. Silas Vane's thugs can't touch us there. Your 'Aetherium' can still have its distribution network, but the source, the production, will be secure."
I saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. I'd used his own logic against him. I'd mentioned the Aetherium.
His gaze sharpened. "How do you know that name?"
"Who do you think spilled your beans? Because your shadow war isn't as shadowy as you think," I said, pressing my advantage. "Silas Vane isn't just a rival. He's a weapon aimed at you, and by extension, at this project. Keeping us here is keeping us in the line of fire. You want to protect your investment? Then put it in a real vault. Not a gilded birdcage in the countryside."
He was silent for a long time, his mind racing, calculating the angles. He hated this. He hated ceding control, hated that I was dictating terms. But he was, above all, a pragmatist.
"Torak is… unpredictable," he said slowly. "The City Lord is a stubborn man. The Adventurer's Guild has too much influence. It introduces new variables."
"All less dangerous than the variable of Silas Vane knowing exactly where we sleep every night," I stated flatly. "This is the deal, Evander. We go to Torak. You provide the funding through Laron. We produce the first volume of 'Dragon Ball' and send it to you. You handle the distribution and marketing here and in the capital. The partnership remains, but the workshop moves."
I held my breath. This was the moment. He could refuse, cut his losses, and leave us to Silas's mercy. Or he could see the cold, hard logic.
He let out a long, slow breath, the fight draining out of him. He looked tired. Old.
"Very well," he conceded, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Torak. But understand this, Kaizen. This changes nothing in our agreement. You deliver me a finished product. And if you think you can operate outside my influence there, you are sorely mistaken. I have eyes everywhere."
The threat was clear, but I had won. "Understood."
I left his manor feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. I had wrestled back a measure of control. We were getting out.
Back at the inn, I told Laron and Briza. Laron was apprehensive but ultimately relieved. The thought of returning to a city that hadn't tried to kidnap his associates was a powerful motivator. Briza just gave a single, sharp nod. She was a soldier; she understood tactical retreats and secure positions.
Tomorrow, we would leave. We would take Elara, her precious tools, the magical scribe, and the nascent world of Dragon Ball, and we would transport it all back to the city I had fled, hoping it would be the sanctuary I needed it to be. It was a gamble, but it was a better bet than staying in a nest of vipers that had already shown their fangs.
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