Bab 74: the deal
Bors: *I yield! I yield!*
Lucian: *You have chosen death, treading into my territory!
Bors: *I only came here to save her...
Bors: *Let's forget this happened, and we will go home.
Lucian: *Your friend just murdered innocent dark elves under my care!*
(*Bors started laughing after hearing that.*)
Bors: *(Laughing)* The irony!
(*Bors' face turned serious.*)
Bors: A dragon who protects a warmongering race lectures me about killing innocents? Shut up!
Bors: Are you not tired of this pointless violence among us?
Bors: I have a proposal to end this all... a truce... between my clan and the Shadow Empire.
Lucian: *(Pausing)* I'm listening...
Bors: Lance, the rogue Demon Mage.
(*Lucian's eyes narrowed, his expression shifting to suspicion and shock.*)
Lucian: Not even the Imperial Generals know about him, let alone his name!
Lucian: Why are you bringing this up? How do you know this?
Bors: *(Smirking)* So naive, dear dragon... I can't tell you that.
Bors: You'll need my help in finding him.
(*Lucian's magic flared briefly as he stepped closer, his voice becoming cold and sharp.*)
Lucian: *(Stuttering)* I... I'll just kill you right now! End your clan!
Bors: *(Calmly)* Kill me and you're going to leave a martyr.
Bors: the giant clan ways, "blood for blood" is an idea you cannot wipe out. Listen to me!
(*Lucian remained silent, his blades sparking, but his posture shifted slightly—less aggressive, more contemplative.*)
Lucian: (Hesitantly) What do you propose?
Bors: Lance will invade the Shadow Realm to redeem himself. Just let us go, and I will keep your crown safe.
Bors: My clan will avoid your domain, but I don't want any more dark elves near our territory or stepping foot in my tavern!*
Bors: So... do you agree to my terms?
(*Lucian's eyes narrowed as he considered the offer. The sparks from his blades dimmed slightly.*)
Lucian: *(Calmly)* Fine... this truce favors both of us.
Lucian: You know how to use your cards well, giant.
Lucian: I will play your game, but mind you... I'm only doing this for my kingdom.
Lucian: This is not for you.
(*Bors chuckled dryly, wiping blood from his forehead.*)
Bors: *(Scoffing)* Meet me at the tavern and lend me a horse, will you?
Bors: We ride to the swamplands.
Bors staggered forward, his eyes catching sight of Theron's limp body sprawled amidst the wreckage. His chest tightened as he approached, kneeling beside her bloodied form.
Bors: (Softly) You stubborn fool...
He gently lifted her, her body cold and barely responsive. Her breathing was faint but there, a glimmer of life fighting against the overwhelming odds.
Theron: *(Weakly whispering)* *Don't… leave me… here…
(*Bors froze for a moment, then let out a sigh of relief before shaking his head in frustration.*)
Bors: Not today, you reckless idiot. I'm going to get the wounds of your taken care of.
(*Turning toward Lucian, who stood silently with his glowing eyes observing the scene, Bors adjusted Theron in his arms.*)
Bors: She's alive, barely. I'll take her back to the tavern for treatment.*
(*Lucian tilted his head, considering the situation.*)
Lucian: *(Grimly)* *She's fortunate her fate is not sealed today.
Bors: *(Sarcastically)* *Yeah, she'll be thrilled to hear that from her killer once she's conscious again.*
(*Bors began to walk away, glancing back at Lucian.*)
Bors: After I drop her off and ensure she gets the help she needs... (He adjusted Theron's weight on his shoulder.) ...we ride to the swamplands. Keep your word, dragon.
(Lucian's glowing eyes dimmed slightly, his expression unreadable. He gave a curt nod before turning away, heading back toward the dark elf king.)
Lucian: Do not delay.
Bors didn't respond, focusing on carrying Theron away.
As he Return to the Tavern
Bors pushed open the heavy tavern doors, his boots dragging on the wooden floor as he carried Theron. The room fell silent as the soldiers and staff turned to see their battered leader and the nearly lifeless assassin.
Bartender: By the gods, what happened?
Bors: (Grimly) She picked a fight she couldn't win... again. Someone get a healer, now.*
A few soldiers rushed forward, clearing a table for Theron. Bors gently laid her down, her blood pooling onto the wood.
Bors: Stay with us, Theron. You're too stubborn to die like this.*
Don, the mage from earlier, stepped forward, his hands glowing with restorative energy.
Don: I'll do what I can, but she's lost a lot of blood. She'll need rest... and time.*
(As Don began his work, Bors slumped into a nearby chair, wiping the sweat and grime from his face. He reached for a mug of ale, his hands trembling slightly.)
Bartender: And you? You look like hell.
Bors: Feel like it too. But no time for rest. I've got a deal to keep.
He took a long drink, his eyes fixed on Theron.
Bors: (To himself)* Damn fool... You better survive this.
Later that evening, Bors stood outside the tavern, his armor cleaned but his body still weary. Lucian approached on a midnight-black horse, his swords sheathed but ever-present. The tension between them was palpable as Bors mounted his own horse.
Bors: (Grunting as he adjusted himself in the saddle)* Nice of you to show up. Thought dragons liked to fly.
Lucian: (Coldly)* Flying draws attention. We are not looking for an audience.
The two began their journey, the horses' hooves echoing against the dirt road. The air grew thick and humid as they approached the swamplands, the sound of croaking frogs and rustling reeds surrounding them.
Lucian: This rogue demon mage... How do you know of him?
Bors: (Smirking)* Trade secret. Let's just say I've got friends in low places.
Lucian: *(Narrowing his eyes)* If you're lying
Bors: *(Cutting him off)* Relax, dragon. I want him gone as much as you do. He's bad for business.
As they delved deeper into the swamps, the air became oppressive, the ground muddy and uneven. Strange whispers echoed through the fog, sending chills down their spines.
As they pressed deeper into the swamplands, the oppressive atmosphere and eerie quiet seemed to amplify the tension between Bors and Lucian. The conversation shifted to the broader war, and Lucian's expression turned somber as he brought up the death of the Shadow Emperor.
Lucian: The death of the Emperor was a tragedy. His vision for the empire, his strength... it was unparalleled. To see it undone so soon after his reign began, it... saddens me.*
Bors barked a laugh, his voice carrying a mocking edge.
Bors: Saddens you? Ha! That's the best news I've heard all year. One less tyrant trying to shove their "vision" down everyone's throat.
Lucian's gaze turned icy, his tone dropping to a cold, measured cadence.
Lucian: Tell me, Bors... is the Frontier truly fighting the empire for survival? Or is it simply another desperate attempt to cling to a fractured, selfish way of life?
Bors's smile faded slightly, but he said nothing, prompting Lucian to continue.
Lucian: You see, in every society, there are borders—lines drawn to divide lands and people. On the right side of one border, children may starve to death, their lives cut short by circumstances beyond their control.
He gestured sharply to the left as they walked, his voice growing darker.
Lucian: While on the left, idle dregs, who contribute nothing, live in excess, wasting resources and time. It is madness—chaos born from inequality.
Bors narrowed his eyes, but Lucian pressed on, his voice unwavering.
Lucian: The empire seeks to crush such nonsense, to erase these artificial divisions and create a fair, unified world. A world where the very concept of inequality is forgotten, where war itself becomes obsolete because there is nothing left to fight over.
Bors stopped walking, turning to face Lucian with a glare.
Bors: Fair? Unified? You mean controlled. You want everyone living under the same boot, following the same rules, with no room for choice or freedom. That's not fairness—it's tyranny.
Lucian turned to meet Bors's gaze, his glowing eyes unreadable.
Lucian: Freedom is a fleeting illusion, Bors. What you call "choice" is often the privilege of the few at the expense of the many. The Emperor understood this truth, and he sought to correct it.
Bors clenched his fists, his voice rising in frustration.
Bors: You talk about fairness, but all I see is bloodshed and oppression. How many villages have been burned? How many lives destroyed in the name of your so-called "balance"?
Lucian's expression remained calm, though his voice carried a hint of steel.
Lucian: Change is never without sacrifice. The empire does not seek destruction for its own sake. It is a necessary step to build a better world.
Bors shook his head, turning away to continue walking.
Bors: Keep telling yourself that, dragon. Maybe one day you'll believe it.
Lucian said nothing, his gaze lingering on Bors's back before following him deeper into the swamp. The uneasy silence between them was only broken by the distant croak of frogs and the rustle of unseen creatures in the murky water.
The uneasy silence lingered for what felt like hours before Bors broke it.
Bors: You know, for someone so eager to preach about unity, you sure spend a lot of time protecting a kingdom that thrives on secrecy and fear.
Lucian, walking a few paces ahead, stopped and turned slightly, his voice calm but laced with warning.
Lucian: The Dark Elf Kingdom is an ally, not a contradiction. They serve a purpose in maintaining order, just as I do.
(Bors scoffed, shaking his head.)
Bors: Order? Is that what you call assassinations and backdoor deals? Seems more like a house of cards ready to collapse the moment someone breathes too hard.
(Lucian's eyes narrowed, his patience beginning to wear thin.)
Lucian: Careful, Bors. Your ignorance is showing. The Dark Elves operate in shadows because that is where their strength lies. Not all battles are fought in open fields with armies clashing. Some wars are won in whispers and shadows.
(Bors crossed his arms, leaning slightly on his axe.)
Bors: And what happens when those shadows turn on you? What happens when the Dark Elves decide they're tired of playing second fiddle to the empire?
(Lucian stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over Bors.)
Lucian: Then I will deal with them, as I have dealt with countless threats before. But until that day comes, they remain under my protection. And you would do well to remember that.
(The two stared each other down, the tension between them palpable. Finally, Bors let out a dry laugh, breaking the moment.)
Bors: You've got an answer for everything, don't you? Fine. Protect your kingdom, your empire, your "order." Just don't expect me to bow to it.
(Lucian said nothing, his gaze unwavering as he turned and continued walking. Bors followed after a moment, muttering under his breath.)
(As the sun dipped below the horizon, the swamp grew darker, the air filled with the hum of insects and the occasional distant growl of unseen creatures. They set up a small camp on a patch of dry land, the flickering firelight casting eerie shadows on the surrounding trees.)
(Bors sat sharpening his axe, the rhythmic sound filling the silence. Lucian sat nearby, his sword resting against his leg, his eyes closed in thought. After a while, Bors spoke, his tone softer than before.)
Bors: You ever get tired of it?
(Lucian opened one eye, glancing at Bors.)
Lucian: Tired of what?
Bors: All of it. The fighting, the killing, the endless cycle of war. Doesn't it ever feel... pointless?
(Lucian leaned back, gazing up at the stars barely visible through the canopy.)
Lucian: Pointless? No. Exhausting? Yes. But purpose drives us forward, even when the path is soaked in blood.
(Bors paused, considering Lucian's words before shaking his head.)
(The fire crackled louder as the tension between the two men grew. The swamp's eerie noises faded into the background, overtaken by the weight of their words.)
Bors: You sit there, preaching about purpose and order like you've got it all figured out. But tell me, Lucian, how many lives have you crushed under your boots to build that so-called empire?
Lucian's eyes snapped open, the faint glow of electricity sparking within them. He didn't move, but his presence seemed to fill the camp, oppressive and rage.
Lucian: Careful, Bors. You tread on dangerous ground.
(Bors stood, his axe resting against his shoulder, his voice rising with anger.)
Bors: Dangerous ground? I've been on dangerous ground my whole damn life! You think I'm scared of you? You're just another cog in the machine, another puppet for a dead emperor's dream!
(Lucian stood now, his towering form illuminated by the firelight. His voice was calm but carried an undeniable edge.)
Lucian: You think you understand sacrifice? You, who fights for coin and ale? I have carried kingdoms on my back, bled for ideals greater than myself. What have you done, Bors? What have you built?
(Bors took a step closer, his grip tightening on his axe.)
Bors: I've built a life where I don't have to bow to tyrants like you! I've built a place where people can be free, where they don't have to die for someone else's "greater good." And if that means spilling blood, so be it.
(Lucian's eyes narrowed, the faint hum of power growing louder as he took a step forward, closing the distance between them.)
Lucian: Freedom? Is that what you call it? A fractured, chaotic mess where the strong prey on the weak? Where children starve while men like you drink away their guilt? You don't fight for freedom, Bors. You fight because it's all you know.
(The words struck a nerve. Bors's face twisted in anger, and he raised his axe, pointing it at Lucian.)
Bors: And you fight because you're too scared to let go of the leash around your neck! You talk about ideals, but all I see is a dog, loyal to a master who's already dead.
(Lucian's expression darkened, the air around him crackling with energy. The ground beneath their feet seemed to tremble as he spoke, his voice low and dangerous.)
Lucian: You don't know me, Bors. You don't know what I've endured, what I've lost. Do not mistake my patience for weakness.
The two men stood mere feet apart now, the firelight dancing between them like a living thing. The swamp seemed to hold its breath, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.)
Bors: Then show me, dragon. Show me what makes you so damn righteous. Prove to me that your empire is worth the blood it's built on.
(For a moment, it seemed like Lucian might strike, his hand twitching toward his blade. But then he exhaled, the glow in his eyes dimming as he stepped back.)
Lucian: You're not worth it.
(Bors smirked, lowering his axe but not taking his eyes off Lucian.)
Bors: That's what I thought.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone