Chapter 95. Orchestrated (2)
Night cloaked the valley in chilled silence, shrouding rooftops with dew and stillness.
Somewhere near the heart of Everhart territory, in an ordinary-looking house nestled between two quiet inns, the ordinary ceased.
Five figures sat in a semicircle within a well-kept drawing room. The fire crackled, casting orange flickers across the floorboards.
Curtains were drawn. The air smelled faintly of spiced tea, porcelain clinks breaking the otherwise flawless quiet.
Each of them wore a mask—elaborate, sharp, and molded in the shape of the Hearty Bull from the Mythria continent.
A symbol of aggression and tenacity. A reminder of what they were planning to unleash.
Three women. Two men. All seated like nobles. All deadly.
The woman in the black mask leaned slightly forward. Her voice was smooth, deliberate. "Any word from the higher-ups?"
The man with the blue mask, the oldest among them, tapped his cup lightly before answering, "Nothing yet. Negotiations are still ongoing, but we should receive instructions soon. The final push is near."
A spark danced in the eyes of the man in the green mask. He chuckled, his fingers twitching along the hilt of his dagger. "I’m getting excited just thinking about it. The moment we get our command, the whole valley starts tightening like a noose. I want to see them run. I want to see the terror in their eyes. The mighty Everharts reduced to cattle."
"Tch," the woman in the red mask exhaled, annoyed. "Be careful what you wish for. We’re not just poking the Everharts anymore. The Lancasters are in this now. We better hope they stay focused on protecting the girl."