Ebonheim remained silent, waiting, her stillness a deliberate counterpoint to his smooth, flowing rhetoric. Compliments from Xellos always felt like the careful positioning of pieces on a game board, distractions meant to obscure the true intent, preparations for the next, more critical move.

"But the world beyond these protective mountains does not sleep, Ebonheim," Xellos continued, his tone turning graver now, more urgent, drawing her back into his shared circle of manufactured concern. "You hear the whispers on the trade winds, carried by nervous merchants arriving daily from Dulgaan and fearful refugees fleeing unrest near Kerkenberge, just as I do. Kingdoms posture and vie for power like rutting stags preparing for battle, old empires crumble under the weight of their own corruption and inevitable decay, new, shadowy threats gather like storm clouds on a distant, darkening horizon."

"The recent Asura presence near Old Drakon Castle," he reminded her, his voice low, "though seemingly contained for now by the diligent, if perhaps overly zealous and godless, Order of the Burning Shield, was a stark, brutal reminder that even our secluded, blessed valley is not immune to the darkness that stirs beyond our peaks."

He leaned closer again, his voice dropping conspiratorially, inviting her into his confidence, forging a false sense of shared vulnerability.

"And now… this troubling instability in the mines. These strange, cold energies your perceptive geomancer detected. Perhaps linked directly to the Underrealm, as I suspect your knowledgeable, ancient dragon advisor might suggest? These are not isolated incidents, Ebonheim. They are tremors preceding a larger, more devastating earthquake that could shatter everything we have both worked so hard to build."

"What exactly are you proposing, Xellos?" Ebonheim asked directly again, her voice calm but firm, cutting through the carefully constructed atmosphere of impending doom, refusing to be swayed by his apocalyptic pronouncements.

He straightened then, his expression becoming earnest, almost pleading, the mask of a concerned ally, a fellow protector seeking partnership, firmly in place.

"Unity, Ebonheim. Strength found only in true, binding cooperation. Our two domains, Ebonheim and Corinth, stand as the dominant, stabilizing powers within the Eldergrove valley. Separately, we present tempting targets, isolated points of vulnerability easily exploited by cunning foes from without, or insidious threats from within."

His gaze flickered towards the mountains. "Together… together we can forge an unbreachable shield, a bastion of order and light, that will protect this valley, our people, from any storm the outside world, or the colder, darker depths below, might unleash upon us."

He paused dramatically, letting the weight of his words, the powerful allure of absolute security in an uncertain world, settle in the quiet grove. "I propose a formal alliance, Ebonheim. A binding agreement, etched not just on parchment but in shared purpose and mutual defense. A defense pact."

"We pool our resources for the common good," he outlined, his voice resonating now with conviction, painting a picture of harmonious strength. "Share vital intelligence regarding threats both internal and external, ensuring no danger goes unnoticed. Coordinate our defenses seamlessly, presenting a unified front that no enemy, mortal or otherwise, would dare challenge."

"Imagine, Ebonheim," he continued, his voice painting the vision, "a network of fortified watchtowers along the Verdant Pathways, east and west, beacons of our shared vigilance, manned jointly by your experienced Silverguards and my disciplined, ever-vigilant Corinthian sentinels. Imagine shared patrols warding the deep mines, not as rivals squabbling over glittering stones, but as partners standing shoulder-to-shoulder against the true threats that may lurk in the darkness beneath our feet."

"Shared patrols?" Ebonheim questioned again, the memory of the tense standoff Brevin described, the deliberate provocations, flashing sharply, uncomfortably in her mind. "Given the recent... friction... how would command be determined?"

"Under joint command, naturally," Xellos amended smoothly, instantly addressing the unspoken concern with practiced ease, anticipating her objection. "A rotating structure, perhaps monthly, overseen by a joint council liaison, ensuring mutual trust, shared responsibility, and equal oversight at all times. Transparency and fairness would be paramount."

"And more," he added, his dark eyes gleaming now with a sudden, fervent intensity that felt almost genuine, fueled perhaps by true ambition rather than feigned concern. "Imagine combining the deep, ancient arcane knowledge held by your reclusive Master Th'maine with the brilliant, practical ingenuity of both our esteemed Artificer guilds! Think of the potential, Ebonheim! The synergy! The advancements we could achieve together!"

He spread his hands wide, his face almost aglow with the vision of unparalleled achievement he was weaving, his words a net of glittering promise cast wide and far. "New inventions, enchantments, and contrivances to simplify the labor of our fields and mines, improve the health of our citizens, strengthen our shared defenses. Magic melded with artifice, fusing the exotic with the mundane, shaping a future beyond the imagining of the lesser, fragmented realms outside."

Ebonheim considered him in silence for a long moment, feeling the pull of his words. It was a grand, seductive vision, undeniably appealing on the surface.

Security. Prosperity. Harmony. Progress.

Utilizing the valley's unique resources not for competition, but for the common good. It touched upon Ebonheim's deepest desire—the absolute safety and enduring happiness of her people. It offered seemingly logical, powerful solutions to threats both known and suspected.

It felt… almost too perfect. Too easy.

A solution presented on a silver platter by a god she had over the years grown to distrust.

"A significant undertaking," Ebonheim murmured, buying herself another precious moment to think, her mind racing, trying desperately to see past the glittering, appealing surface of the proposal to the potentially dangerous structure hidden beneath. "Requiring immense resources, unprecedented levels of coordination between groups that... haven't always seen eye-to-eye." She glanced subtly towards where Kelzryn stood. "And absolute, unwavering trust between our domains. Between us."

"Precisely!" Xellos seized on the word, his voice ringing with apparent sincerity, relief flooding his carefully composed features. "Trust! The cornerstone upon which all lasting alliances, all true progress, must be built! Which is why I come directly to you today, Ebonheim. Goddess to god. Neighbor to neighbor. Let us build that trust, forge it strong and true between our peoples, solidify it with this pact, this shared commitment to our people's future."

"Let our respective councils," he continued reasonably, "guided always by our shared wisdom and benevolent oversight, draft the specific operational details, of course. The minutiae can be negotiated."

He gestured again, and his previously statue-still attendant guard stepped forward silently, producing a rolled scroll tied with a simple, elegant grey ribbon, presenting it with a low, silent bow.

"I have taken the liberty of outlining some initial thoughts, some foundational principles for such an accord, merely to facilitate discussion between our councils, to provide a starting point. Matters of equitable resource allocation for the Vespera deposits, protocols for shared research initiatives to unlock new potentials, command structure parameters for joint patrols…"

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Ebonheim took the offered scroll, its fine parchment cool and unnervingly smooth beneath her fingertips, lacking the familiar, honest texture of Ebonheim's own rougher paper made from valley reeds.

The script within was elegant, precise, each letter perfectly formed, almost inhumanly so, flowing across the page like dark, deep water.

She forced herself to scan the opening lines, then further down, pushing past the preamble about mutual benefit, seeking the heart of the proposal, the true cost hidden beneath the layers of diplomatic language and lofty promises of shared prosperity.

It outlined a framework that seemed, at first, second, even third glance, remarkably fair, balanced even.

Shared access to Vespera based on proximity of tunnel entrance and demonstrable excavation effort…

Proximity? But the richest part of the vein ran clearly from Ebonheim's established tunnels, tunnels mapped long before Corinth even existed as a concept. And excavation effort?

Corinth started digging aggressively, perhaps dangerously so, after Brevin's crew found the main deposit... that wording subtly, cleverly, favored their later, more aggressive claim, didn't it?

It rewarded intrusion.

Joint funding for research initiatives, with all findings shared equally between participating guilds…

That sounded good on the surface, collaboration could yield breakthroughs neither guild could achieve alone, especially with Vespera now available. But then…

Research protocols require designated lead researchers (including Master Th'maine of Ebonheim) and both Artificer guilds share all findings related to arcane energy manipulation, planar studies, and particularly ancient Magitech artifacts…

All findings? Every experimental note? Every failure? Including her closely guarded knowledge of Cepheid, its capabilities, its origins, its potential vulnerabilities?

...with results submitted quarterly for review and potential integration to a joint oversight committee heavily weighted with Corinth council members 'due to their acknowledged expertise in large-scale project management and efficient resource allocation'.

Expertise or control? The careful, bureaucratic wording felt like a silken net closing in, tightening almost imperceptibly around Ebonheim's most valuable, most dangerous secrets.

A rotating command structure for joint patrols, alternating monthly between Ebonheim and Corinthian field commanders, fostering mutual respect and understanding…

Fair enough, seemingly equitable, promoting interaction between the guards… until the final, almost hidden clause tucked away in the logistical details regarding emergency responses:

...granting the designated Corinthian field commander final, overriding tactical authority in 'declared valley-wide emergency situations' to ensure swift, unified, and decisive response.

Declared by whom? Defined how? The deliberate, dangerous vagueness felt like a dagger hidden carefully within a beautiful bouquet of promised cooperation.

"These terms…" Ebonheim began slowly, choosing her words with extreme care now, keeping her internal objections, the sudden loud clamor of warning bells ringing frantically in her mind, masked behind a thoughtful, deliberative expression. "They seem… complex. Very detailed indeed. Covering many eventualities."

She paused, meeting his gaze. "Requiring careful consideration and thorough discussion by my full council before any agreement could possibly be reached."

"Naturally," Xellos agreed readily, his smooth smile unwavering, betraying no awareness of her sudden, sharp scrutiny, or perhaps simply confident she wouldn't dare refuse the logic, the overwhelming necessity, of his generous offer.

"Complexity ensures fairness and clarity, does it not? Every contingency considered, every resource accounted for. It is the necessary foundation of stable, lasting, mutually beneficial cooperation between enlightened domains such as ours."

He spread his hands wide again in a gesture of open generosity, of perfect reason, of benevolent patience that felt utterly false.

"Take all the time you need, dear Ebonheim. Discuss it thoroughly with your wise elders, your skilled artisans, your brave warriors. Consult your advisors."

His gaze flickered briefly, almost dismissively, towards Kelzryn's silent form in the shadows. "I am utterly confident they, like you, will see the undeniable logic, the profound necessity, of this alliance for the continued safety and prosperity of our shared, precious valley."

He stepped back then, signaling the end of the audience, preparing to take his leave, having planted his carefully crafted, potentially poisonous seed.

"The future of this valley, perhaps its very survival against the encroaching darkness we both sense, rests upon our cooperation, Ebonheim. Divided, we remain vulnerable, inviting danger from without and potentially nurturing discord within." His gaze seemed to linger for a moment on the path leading towards the northern mines. "United, we build a sanctuary, a fortress of peace and order that will endure for generations to come, a testament to our combined wisdom."

He offered another slight, perfect bow, the picture of reasonable statesmanship, of concerned fellowship, of benevolent guidance. "I shall await your council's considered response with great anticipation. May your deliberations be guided by wisdom and foresight for the good of all our people."

He turned then and glided away down the path, his grey-clad guards falling into step silently, precisely behind him, their departure as smooth, controlled, and unnerving as their arrival, leaving no trace on the mossy ground but the lingering chill in the air.

Ebonheim watched them go until they disappeared from view beyond the trees, the elegant scroll suddenly feeling heavy, almost poisonous, in her hand, its smooth parchment seeming to conceal sharp, hidden barbs beneath the beautiful, flowing, deceptive script.

Kelzryn materialized silently beside her the moment Xellos was truly gone, the shift in the air the only sign of his movement, like shadow detaching itself from stone.

Her exarch said nothing for a long moment, merely looked down with his ancient, azure eyes at the scroll Ebonheim held clutched tightly in her hand, then back up at her face, his gaze filled with an ancient, knowing, utterly unsurprised light.

"He makes a compelling, logical argument," Ebonheim admitted quietly, the words feeling like dust and ashes in her mouth, spoken more to herself, to the sudden turmoil churning within her—the allure of safety warring with the instinct for freedom—than to the dragon standing patiently beside her. "Unity… security… prosperity… it's what everyone wants, isn't it? What I want for them?"

"The serpent in the ancient garden," Kelzryn rumbled softly, his voice like the slow, inexorable shifting of continents deep beneath the earth, a sound both ancient and immediate, "always offers the most tempting, most logical fruit. It promises knowledge, safety from all fears, eternal contentment, perfect order. But," his gaze sharpened, "it conveniently omits the true, often terrible, price of the bite."

He looked towards the east, towards the unseen town of Corinth, his draconic senses likely perceiving the cold, ordered, controlled energy radiating from it far more clearly than she ever could.

"His proposal is not a shield, Ebonheim. It is a cage, beautifully gilded and cleverly disguised with honeyed words of mutual benefit, whose bars are forged from carefully worded clauses of 'cooperation' and whose inescapable lock is labeled 'efficiency'."

Ebonheim looked down at the scroll again, at the elegant, precise script outlining a future of shared prosperity and subtly hidden chains, a future where her city might become merely a richer, more resource-laden, but ultimately subservient province of Corinth's cold, unyielding order.

The discordant hum from the east seemed to echo in the elegant curves of Xellos's carefully chosen words, a siren song promising safety while masking subjugation, promising harmony while demanding conformity.

Kelzryn was right.

The price was there, woven into the very fabric of the proposal, hidden in the details, waiting patiently to be paid.

The question that now hammered against her temples with the force of a forge hammer was, could she convince her council, could she even convince herself after ten long years of relative peace and burgeoning growth, to refuse such a tempting, logical, dangerous offer when the alternative felt like facing the growing shadows, both outside and perhaps now within the valley itself, utterly alone?

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.