Valeria didn't give me an answer right away. She couldn't. Her programming as a loyal soldier of the Empire was currently at war with the parasitic emotional anchor I had just buried in her chest.
She stared at me for a long, agonizing minute, the crimson and violet in her aura violently clashing. Then, she turned on her heel and walked away, her armored steps echoing loudly in the dawn air.
I stayed on the dirt, staring at the purple sky until the sound of her footsteps faded. Only then did I allow the mask to drop. I let out a long, ragged exhale, my lips curling into a vicious smirk.
She didn't say no. For a Kuudere whose entire identity was built on duty, hesitation was as good as a surrender. It was only a matter of time.
"I heard you the first time, System," I muttered, finally pushing myself up off the ground and dusting off my dark tunic. "But I can't walk into the capital with empty pockets and a wooden sword. The Hero has the backing of a High Priestess. I need capital. I need leverage. And luckily, I know exactly where to find it."
I didn't head back to my room to rest. I headed for the garrison's lower levels. The dungeons.
The air grew colder and stank of mildew and despair the deeper I descended. Two guards stood at the entrance to the high-security block. They saw me—the newly appointed Adjutant in his pristine dark wool—and immediately snapped to attention, unlocking the heavy iron grate without a word. My influence in Oakhaven was already solidifying.
Quartermaster Higgins occupied the furthest cell. It was a miserable, damp box, but Higgins didn't look broken. He sat on the stone bench, his plump face smeared with dirt, but his eyes retaining a stubborn, arrogant gleam.
As I approached the bars, he looked up, a sneer twisting his lips.
"Ah. The slum rat," Higgins spat. "I hear you're playing dress-up as the Captain's pet now. Enjoy it while it lasts, boy. The Merchant Guild won't let me rot in here. The magistrate is already drafting my release."
I stood just outside the iron bars, my posture relaxed, hands clasped behind my back. I let my Warborn Aura simmer, casting a faint, predatory heat into the chill of the dungeon.
"The magistrate is currently writing a lengthy apology to the provincial governor, explaining how he was completely unaware of your cartel connections," I replied, my voice smooth as silk. "The Merchant Guild has publicly disavowed you. You are a loose end, Higgins. And the Red Vipers? They are actively hunting for you to silence you before you can testify."
Higgins paled slightly, but he jutted his chin out. "Lies. You're trying to scare me."
"I don't need to scare you. I just need your gold." I leaned closer to the bars. "The town's ledgers are a mess, Higgins. You skimmed thousands of imperial completely unaccounted for. You didn't spend it. You hid it. I want the vault."
Higgins let out a bark of laughter. "Go to hell, Warborn. Even if they hang me, I die rich. You get nothing."
I sighed, a sound of profound, weary disappointment. I tapped my temple. "System. Empath's Scalpel. Let's see what makes the pig squeal."
[Activating Empath's Scalpel. -10 Stamina.]
The world shifted. The damp gray stone faded, and Higgins's aura bloomed into view. It was a messy, chaotic swirl of muddy brown (stubbornness) and sickly yellow (fear). But deep within his core, buried under layers of greed, was a pulsing, bright cord of pure, terrified silver.
I blinked, deactivating the skill. The colors vanished, leaving only Higgins, who was glaring at me defiantly.
I smiled. It was a cold, empty expression that made Higgins instinctively press his back against the stone wall.
"Riverbend is a lovely village this time of year," I murmured softly.
Higgins froze. The blood instantly drained from his face, leaving him a ghastly shade of gray. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"Quiet, isn't it?" I continued, tracing a finger along the rusty iron bar. "Tucked away by the water. A perfect place to hide something precious. Or... someone. Like a daughter."
"H-how..." Higgins gasped, his eyes wide with absolute terror. "Nobody knows about her. Not even the mother..."
"I know everything, Higgins," I lied smoothly, letting the False Truth of my absolute confidence crush him. "The Red Vipers are furious about the lost lyrium. They are demanding compensation. Right now, I am the only thing standing between the cartel and the Oakhaven census records. If I slip a map to Riverbend under the door of a certain mercenary tavern..."
Higgins hit his knees. The arrogance shattered like cheap glass. He crawled toward the bars, his hands reaching through to grab my boots.
"No! Please! She has nothing to do with this!" he sobbed, the pathetic reality of his situation finally crashing down on him. "I'll give you everything! The gold, the deeds, the blackmail I have on the magistrate! Just don't let them touch Elara!"
I looked down at the weeping man, feeling absolutely nothing. In my past life, corporate espionage was bloodless but no less ruthless. I had ruined men for less. Kaiser Warborn, however, was playing for his very soul. Empathy was a luxury I couldn't afford.
"The location," I demanded, my voice cracking like a whip.
"Under the floorboards of the abandoned mill on the east road," he babbled instantly. "There's a lockbox. The key is in my boot heel. It's all there! Fifty thousand imperial marks in gold and gems!"
Fifty thousand. That was enough to buy a minor lordship. It was certainly enough to fund my transition to the capital and buy the best equipment Oakhaven had to offer.
"A wise investment, Higgins," I said, stepping back from the bars so he couldn't touch me. "Your daughter remains a ghost. See that you remain quiet until the hangman calls."
I turned and walked away, the echoes of his sobbing fading behind me.
[Ding!]
[Shadow Operation Successful. Ruthlessness parameter verified.]
[Conquest Points Awarded: 150 CP. Total: 250 CP.]
"Money is just the grease for the wheels, System," I replied silently as I climbed the stairs back to the surface. "Now, we prepare the stage."
The next three weeks passed in a blur of calculated, relentless momentum.
With Higgins's stolen vault secured, I funneled the wealth back into the garrison—anonymously, of course, through "recovered" guild funds. I outfitted Valeria's men with new steel, effectively buying their unshakeable loyalty to the Captain, and by extension, to her Adjutant.
I spent my nights running my body to the breaking point, letting the Warborn Aura stitch my muscles back together denser and faster. By the end of the third week, my physical status had crawled from E- to a solid D. I was still weak compared to a seasoned knight, but I was no longer a pane of glass waiting to shatter.
And Valeria?
Valeria was cracking beautifully. I kept my distance physically, but I ensured my presence was everywhere. I anticipated her orders before she gave them. I handled the town's politics flawlessly so she only ever had to draw her sword for righteous reasons. I became the perfect, indispensable phantom. Her Obsession Meter had steadily climbed to 18%. She found herself looking for me in crowded rooms, her icy exterior melting whenever we were alone in her office.
Then, on a crisp Tuesday morning, the waiting game ended.
The blast of a silver horn echoed over Oakhaven's palisades. A carriage, painted in the opulent gold and crimson of the Imperial Capital, rolled through the town gates, flanked by four heavily armored elite guards.
The Imperial Proctor had arrived.
I stood beside Valeria on the steps of the garrison keep. She was tense, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword. I, however, was perfectly relaxed, dressed in a newly tailored coat of midnight blue velvet and silver thread—a purchase from my hidden war chest.
"Remember, Captain," I murmured, pitching my voice low so only she could hear the subtle hum of my Pheromones. "Play the rigid soldier. Let me handle the politics."
She gave a sharp, almost imperceptible nod, her shoulder brushing against mine. The contact was brief, but I felt the heat of her reliance.
The carriage stopped. The door swung open, and out stepped Lord Malacor.
He was a thin, sneering man with a powdered wig and robes that cost more than the entire town of Oakhaven. He looked around the muddy courtyard with undisguised disgust, holding a perfumed handkerchief to his nose.
"Captain Thorne, I presume?" Malacor drawled, not bothering to bow. "I am Proctor Malacor. I am here to assess the... talent of this miserable province for the Royal Zenith Academy. Though by the smell of it, I doubt I'll find anything but pig farmers."
Valeria's jaw tightened, her aura flashing a dangerous, insulted blue. She opened her mouth to snap back.
I stepped forward, gracefully cutting her off with a flawless, aristocratic bow.
"Welcome to Oakhaven, Lord Malacor," I said, my voice projecting a refined, high-born cadence that instantly made the Proctor blink in surprise. "We have been eagerly awaiting your arrival. If you would follow me, I believe we have an assessment that will subvert your expectations entirely."
Malacor's eyes narrowed, taking in my striking white hair, my piercing eyes, and my expensive attire. He couldn't reconcile my appearance with the mud of the borderlands.
"And who might you be, boy?" he demanded.
I straightened up, flashing my most charming, predatory smile.
"I am Kaiser Warborn. And I am the talent you are looking for."