Chapter 7 – Mental Manipulation
Gorran called Nyxarion into his office.
The room was empty. Door locked.
The merchant turned with his usual oily smile.
"Now that we're alone… how much is your life worth, Lucas?"
Inside the skull, Lucas screamed:
Kill him!
Nyxarion merely looked up.
Two bottomless pits. Red stars slowly spinning.
A thread of shadow slid into Gorran's forehead like an invisible needle.
Nyxarion spoke straight into the man's mind, slow and precise:
You hired me on the road as a temporary sellsword.
I killed three shadow-hounds with my blade.
The other four fled, dragging the two corpses away.
You were so impressed you hired me on the spot.
Three silver a day until the auction ends.
I'm just another hired guard.
No refugee. No debt.
You will call each of the six surviving guards in here, one by one, right now.
And you will forget I ever gave you this order.
The thread withdrew.
Gorran blinked, then broke into a wide, genuine grin.
"Lucas! Of course! The sellsword I hired on the road after you cut down three of those monsters! Three silver a day until the auction's done, deal sealed. Hang on, let me bring the lads in to make it official."
He flung the door open and bellowed into the courtyard:
"One at a time! Everyone in here to sign the new guard!"
The six surviving guards filed in obediently, one after another.
Nyxarion repeated the ritual on each.
Thread of shadow.
Black eyes.
Same story planted:
"I saw Lucas kill three shadow-hounds with his sword.
The rest ran off with the bodies.
Boss hired him on the spot.
He's one of us now.
Three silver a day."
When the last man left, they were already greeting Nyxarion like an old comrade.
"Night, Lucas!"
"Those three strokes were fucking fast!"
"Welcome to the house, brother!"
Gorran clapped him hard on the back.
"Black uniform with the Veyll crest is in the locker. Grab one first thing tomorrow. You're on the main auction door. I want everyone to see the new blade of the house!"
Inside the head, Lucas was speechless.
You just rewrote the entire caravan's reality in ten minutes.
"Nine minutes and forty seconds," Nyxarion corrected, already walking out. "We are now officially temporary sellswords of House Veyll.
Full access.
Instant credibility.
And no one will ever remember I arrived here for free."
In the courtyard, the brown-haired girl being pulled from the slave wagon glanced up at him.
Nyxarion walked past without a flicker.
Karathar was already his.
And now he had a uniform, a wage, and six witnesses who would swear on their lives that he had always stood on the right side of the bars.
End of Chapter 7