Chapter 9: Convincing
“Would it be the same… if I saw you in heaven…”
David’s voice carried softly over the camp, the melody of Tears in Heaven flowing from his harp.
“I must be strong… and carry on…” he continued. “’Cause I know, I don’t belong… here in heaven…”
None of the villagers had ever heard Tears in Heaven before, but it didn’t matter. The melody was simple, but the emotion behind it wasn’t. It slipped past unfamiliarity and settled deep in their chests, heavy and difficult to ignore, the perfect mood for a funeral led by Erika.
She stepped forward, shoulders trembling, eyes glistening.
“Goodbye, Barin… farewell, Iskar… thank you, Wex…”
One by one, she called their names, her voice breaking at just the right moments, her sobs soft but persistent.
David didn’t stop when she spoke. Instead, he lowered the volume of the harp melody, letting it sit behind her voice, adding a quiet hum between the verses, subtle, controlled, deliberately timed.
Pushing the sad atmosphere further, stretching each name just a little longer than it should, making sure it lingered.
Then, as Erika reached the last name—
“Time can break your heart…” David raised his voice again with the reff, smoothly reclaiming the focus, “Have you begging please… Begging please…”
The timing landed perfectly. It tipped the entire sad mood over the edge.
Villagers began stepping forward, some lowering their heads, others already wiping their eyes. One by one, they joined in, murmuring prayers, grief spreading through the crowd like it had always been there, just waiting for a reason. None of them held back.
It was a complete success.
From a distance, Theo watched with a small, satisfied grin. Within 3 hours of preparation, he had scripted and taught David and Erika the entire thing. The atmosphere, the timing, the emotional beats. A routine just like when he do the séance scam back on Earth.
Good thing he knew a thing or two about music, and good thing that David was absurdly talented. A talented musician is a talented musician no matter what era they came from. The same talent that made King Saul of Israel felt relief everytime he hear David playing.
Teaching David songs from the 21st century had taken less than thirty minutes. Unfortunately, the rest of the time—two and a half hours—had gone into forcing Erika to memorize the names of the dead properly so she could recite them without messing up.
She didn’t care about their names. Not really. And yet here she was, crying like she had lost something irreplaceable. Theo couldn’t help but feel a little impressed. Terrified, but impressed.
Knowing the two of them could handle the rest, Theo turned and headed toward the chief’s tent. What left is his part, make a deal with the chief.
---
Chief Tent
Inside Tara’s tent, most of her belongings had already been packed into neat bundles, ready to be moved at a moment’s notice. Only a few essentials remained scattered across the space. In the middle of it all, Tara sat at a rough wooden table, taking a brief pause for herself with a glass of mead in hand.
She exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders refusing to leave.
“Sigh… that stupid daughter of mine…” she muttered, rubbing her temple. “What did I do wrong raising her?”
She took a long gulp, letting the bitterness settle.
“How can I trust her to lead the tribe in the future?” Her hand slammed the mug against the table, liquid sloshing over the rim. “This is the nicest place we’ve ever had, and we have to leave?!”
“You’re right.”
Tara’s head snapped up toward the voice that came from the entrance.
Theo stepped inside, brushing past the tent flap without hesitation, his posture relaxed in a way that felt almost offensive given whose space he had just invaded.
“She’s nowhere near fit to become a leader,” he continued calmly. “At least not right now.”
Tara’s eyes narrowed.
“However,” Theo added, stopping a few steps in, “your tribe doesn’t necessarily have to leave this place.”
Steel flashed. Within a heartbeat, Tara had drawn the blade resting on the table and brought it up to Theo’s neck, the edge pressing just enough to remind him how easily the conversation could end.
“New guy,” she said coldly, her voice losing all traces of earlier frustration, replaced by something far sharper, “I don’t remember allowing you into my tent.”
The tip of the blade rested against his skin, but Theo didn’t flinch.
Back on Earth, he had stared down the wrong end of a gun more than once, occupational hazard. Since arriving in this world, swords had become a far more common problem. At some point, the body learned what the mind already knew: panic didn’t help.
“I apologize for the intrusion, Chief,” Theo said evenly. “But I believe we don’t have the luxury of time for proper etiquette… not if you intend to keep this village.”
Tara’s grip tightened slightly, though her expression shifted, just a fraction.
“…What do you mean?”
Theo met her gaze without wavering.
“Would you mind lowering the sword,” he said, his tone steady, almost polite, “and hearing me out for a few minutes?”
---
A few minutes later, the blade was no longer at his throat.
Theo and Tara sat across from each other at the same table, the mug of mead now forgotten between them. Theo had just finished outlining his plan regarding the demon hounds, though that hadn’t been the only thing he had been doing.
While he spoke, he had been examined her just as carefully.
Tara was nothing like her daughter. The red-haired elf in front of him carried herself with quiet control, every reaction measured, every question deliberate. She wasn’t someone who could be swayed with charm or empty confidence. Flattery would bounce off her without leaving a mark.
Logic, however… That might land.
“On the stone ravine, huh?” Tara said, leaning back slightly as she rubbed her chin, eyes unfocused in thought.
“That’s right,” Theo replied. “It’s narrow, uneven, and limits their movement. More importantly…” He paused briefly. “I’ve heard a single demon hound fetches a decent price as materials. A whole pack would be worth quite a bit more.”
Tara didn’t respond immediately. She studied him in silence, weighing the proposal rather than reacting to it. Theo could almost see the calculations running behind her eyes. Risk, manpower, terrain, reward.
She wasn’t convinced yet.
“So,” she said slowly, “you plan to lead my men against the demon hounds.”
“Not me,” Theo replied. “Dunley the halfling.”
“What?” Tara’s chair scraped loudly against the ground as she stood, irritation flaring instantly. “Dunley?! You’re wasting my—”
“Except,” Theo cut in, his tone unchanged, “Dunley is already dead.”
The words landed cleanly. Tara froze mid-motion, her expression tightening as she stared at him.
“…What do you mean?”
“You might have noticed,” Theo began, leaning back slightly as if the conversation had already tilted in his favor, “but Dunley isn’t exactly… Dunley anymore.”
Tara’s eyes narrowed.
“The real Dunley was killed by the demon hounds last night,” he continued. “The one you saw this morning… that’s David. A warrior from my world. A summoned soul answering my call.”
He let a small, confident smile settle on his face. The easiest way to sell a lie was to start with the truth, then let the rest follow naturally.
“Your… summon?” Tara repeated, her tone quieter now, more cautious than before.
Theo nodded once.
“You’re a… necromancer?” she asked, the hesitation in her voice no longer hidden.
“Yes,” Theo said plainly. “Summoned Hero, Necromancer class. Formerly of Mirecrest Kingdom.”
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. Tara studied him for a few seconds, her gaze sharp, searching for cracks in his story.
“Then why are you here?” she asked. “Why send you to a place like this, the prison border?”
Theo tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Why do you think the Church would pressure a king to discard a newly purchased summoned hero?”
He didn’t answer her question. He handed it back.
Tara’s expression shifted as she processed that, her posture easing just enough as she slowly sat down again.
“…Your power is dangerous to them,” she concluded.
From her perspective, it was the most reasonable answer. No kingdom would throw away an investment unless it posed a risk. It never even crossed her mind that the real reason could be something as simple—and absurd—as him being weak and useless.
Theo only smiled, lifting both hands slightly in a harmless gesture, neither confirming nor denying.
He didn’t need to. Letting people arrive at their own conclusions was always more effective than forcing one onto them.
“But that same power,” Theo said, lowering his hands as his gaze locked onto hers, “is now sitting right in front of you.”
Tara didn’t interrupt.
“I don’t know what kind of life you prefer,” he continued, his tone calm, almost conversational, “but tell me something… don’t you want to live like the agricultural tribes?”
Still, she said nothing. Her silence wasn’t dismissal, it was consideration.
“A place where you don’t have to run every time something stronger shows up,” Theo went on. “Where food isn’t a constant problem. Where people aren’t just… surviving.”
His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.
“I can help you build that.”
Tara’s eyes remained on him, steady and unreadable.
“How?” she finally asked.
Theo let out a small breath and shook his head, raising a hand lazily.
“It wouldn’t mean much if your village isn’t even here tomorrow,” he said. “Let’s solve the immediate problem first.”
“Tch.” Tara clicked her tongue, though there was less irritation behind it now. “You’re a slippery one.”
Theo leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table.
“Here’s what I need,” he said. “A dozen of your men. That’s it. You and the rest can stay somewhere safe while we handle the demon hounds. If it fails, your loss is minimal. You just leave like you were planning to anyway.”
Tara didn’t respond right away. Her gaze lingered, measuring him again. Not just his words this time, but his confidence, his posture, the way he carried himself despite everything.
“…And what exactly do you get out of this?” she asked at last.
“I simply want a place to settle,” Theo said, leaning back in his chair as if the matter were already decided. “And by ‘settle,’ I mean no slave work, no running errands for everyone like Dunley used to. Let me act as your right hand, and I’ll use what I know to help your village grow.”
It was, in his mind, the perfect position. Close enough to power to influence decisions, far enough to avoid being the one blamed when things went wrong.
“And I’ll make it clear,” he added, his tone steady, “I have no intention of taking your position.”
Tara didn’t respond immediately. Her fingers tapped lightly against the table as she watched him, weighing not just his words, but the intent behind them.
“That’s still too early to tell,” she said at last. “We’ll see after you deal with the demon hounds.”
Theo’s smile didn’t change, but there was a quiet note of satisfaction behind it. That wasn’t a rejection. It was conditional acceptance.
“So you’ll lend me a dozen men?” he asked.
“Sure,” Tara replied, then paused just long enough to shift the balance back in her favor. “However… I won’t be ordering them.”
She leaned forward slightly, a grin forming as her eyes locked onto his.
“You’ll have to convince them yourself,” she said. “And let me tell you something, scavengers value their own lives above everything else.”
She leaned back again, folding her arms, clearly pleased with the added difficulty.
“You said you wanted to help this village grow,” she continued. “Then start by understanding its people. Good luck.”
Theo listened without interruption. When she finished, he didn’t look troubled. If anything, his smile widened just a fraction.
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,” he said lightly.
Tara blinked. “Huh?”
---
Village Square
Moments later, Theo and Tara were already outside. Tara stood there, dumbfounded, while Theo folded his arms and rubbed his chin proudly as both of them watched what was unfolding.
In front of them, a crowd of villagers had gathered. They now looked agitated, angry.
“We will beat those Demon Hounds like the dogs they are!!” Erika rallied the villagers.
The sad, mourning atmosphere from earlier was completely gone. In fact, the pile of stones with the names of the deceased—the same one everyone had been crying over not long ago—had now been turned into a pedestal for Erika to stand on before the furious crowd.
And no one seemed to care anymore.
“YEAAAAHHH!!” the villagers roared back.
They were burning with vengeance now.
Partially because of Erika’s provocation. And partially because of the background music David played to burn the crowd's spirit.
“Stalks his prey in the night, and he’s watching us all with the eyeeee—of the tiger—”
David sang in the background, striking a powerful note on his guitar-like harp. Another unmistakable melody and lyrics from 21st-century Earth: Eye of the Tiger.
Theo remained where he was, watching his work with quiet approval. Convincing people wasn’t about logic alone.
Sometimes, all you had to do was give them the right emotion, and let them convince themselves.