Capítulo 8: A Vast Patience
Sitting across from me stiffly was Kaspian Bladeheart. The carriage stumbled upon a rock on the roadside and he yelped as the carriage shook. I looked at him deadpan. Who knew the guild leader of the Xyrus Adventurer's guild would be such a wimp.
"You sure you want to come? Things might get bloody, y'know" I said, tapping my fingers on the open window.
"So you don't deny that things might come to that point…" He replied dejectedly.
"Well, they invited me to lunch under the pretext of building relations, but I have no doubt they have some ulterior motive in mind," I added, looking at him as I pointed my finger at him. "And by the looks of it, you seem to think so, too. We're talking about the Wykes, after all."
"…" Kaspian Bladeheart didn't reply. He just stared at me, trying to force a calm expression but otherwise betraying the anxiety present in his eyes. I heard the Wykes's special grade son is also attending, I thought, curious as to the might of the other special grades. I wonder if Alea can match up to him.
The carriage trundled along, wheels crunching over gravel and uneven stones as we rode deeper into the estate. We passed under a dense canopy of foliage that formed a makeshift garden that's almost as large as a small park. Sunlight filtered through the trees in patches, dappling the finely manicured hedges and flowerbeds with a golden glow. My gaze shifted forward, and there it was.
The Wykes manor.
I couldn't help but raise a brow. It was a sprawling architectural marvel of marble and glass. Certainly much larger and more ostentatious than my own villa. A touch excessive, really, but it spoke volumes about the Wykes' need to display their influence.
With a soft creak, the carriage came to a halt. A maid approached and opened the carriage door. Kaspian gestured for me to step down first.
"Chivalrous. I've almost fallen in love." I remarked sarcastically, smirking as I hopped down. My boots met the paved stone with a solid thud.
Kaspian followed awkwardly, adjusting his coat as he stepped onto the driveway. He looked around, his unease growing more and more with every passing second. The Wykes' reputation was a storm cloud hanging over him, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his mind.
But isn't he an influential noble, too?
<<Correct. I have deduced a hypothesis that the subject Kaspian Bladeheart had experienced a traumatic incident with the Wykes. The period of how long ago would be unknown.>>
The front entrance loomed ahead, guarded by two imposing doors crafted from rich mahogany and inlaid with ornate gold filigree. A butler stood at attention. With a slight bow, he ushered us inside.
The interior was as grandiose as the exterior, with high vaulted ceilings, and a chandelier dripping with crystals that refracted the sunlight. Lavish carpets muffled our footsteps as we were led to a sitting room filled with an array of finely upholstered chairs and a grand table set with an assortment of appetizers.
Everything screamed opulence.
"The Wykes family will join you shortly," the butler said before bowing and leaving from the room.
I glanced at Kaspian. His hands were clasped tightly in front of him, and I could see his knuckles whitening.
"Relax, Bladeheart. We're here to eat lunch, not get assassinated… probably. I'm going to grab your balls when I say this… but I'll at least make sure you get out of here alive—in one piece or not."
"I am not having my balls touched." He shot me a look that hovered between exasperation and terror. "And that's not exactly reassuring."
I shrugged, moving toward the window and leaning against the sill. The view overlooked the expansive garden we had passed earlier. From here, it was even more impressive—fountains spraying arcs of water, carefully arranged flowerbeds, and statues of powerful creatures from the Beast Glades spread about.
"You think the special-grade son, Baron Wykes, will show up?" Kaspian asked, his voice tight.
"Of course. I'd figure the Wykes wouldn't miss a chance to show off their prodigy," I replied, glancing back at him. "You seem particularly worried about that. Any reason?"
He hesitated, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to find the right words. Finally, he said, "It's not just him. It's everything about this family. Everything about them is suffocating."
"Ambition isn't inherently bad," I mused. "The Wykes just happen to prefer using theirs to crush anyone who opposes them. In a way, we're alike in that sense."
"…"
"Relax. It was a jest."
Before he could respond, the doors swung open, and a tall man with sharp features entered. His stride was purposeful, his yellow-tinged eyes cold as they swept over us. This, I assumed, was Lord Otis Vayhur Wykes himself. Behind him trailed a younger but larger man, likely the infamous special-grade son. His presence was certainly commendable as he took his place at his father's side.
Lord Wykes regarded us with a smile so practiced it might as well have been etched onto his face. His piercing gaze settled on me, lingering just a moment too long to be polite.
"Ah, the esteemed Rimuru Tempest," he began. "I was told you look so young yet feel so dominant, but seeing you in person, I can only really gasp in wonder. It is an honor to host a figure of your reputation."
I inclined my head. "Likewise, Lord Wykes. It's always enlightening to meet someone who commands such respect in Sapin."
Beside me, Kaspian shifted uncomfortably. Otis Wykes's eyes switched to him. "And Kaspian Bladeheart. How unexpected to see you here. I was under the impression that guild leaders preferred neutrality in matters such as these."
Kaspian straightened, his attempt at composure betrayed by the tightness in his jaw.
"I'm here to ensure that no misunderstandings arise, Lord Wykes, as although Rimuru Tempest is S-rank and Special-Grade, I was tasked by the higher-ups to supervise his political affairs. Peaceful relations are in everyone's interest."
"Of course, of course," Otis replied. He gestured toward the table. "Please, sit. Let us enjoy the hospitality my family has prepared."
The special-grade son, Baron Wykes, remained silent but observant. As we took our seats, his gaze settled on me.
Sorry, man, but I ain't into dudes.
The appetizers laid out were nothing short of extravagant: rare fruits, spiced meats, and a wine so dark it seemed to absorb the light. I took a sip, the liquid smooth and deceptively sweet—a little too sweet.
Otis Wykes leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "I hope you find everything to your liking. My family takes pride in our ability to entertain, though I suspect you are not here for mere pleasantries."
"Straight to the point," I said, setting my glass down. "I appreciate that. Let's not waste time pretending this is a social call. What is it you want from me, Lord Wykes?"
The atmosphere tensed further than it already was. Otis's smile remained, but his eyes darkened. "Haha. So, it is true that you should not be treated as your age would suggest, Rimuru Tempest, but you speak as though this is a negotiation. I had simply hoped to forge a mutual understanding. Surely, even you can appreciate the value of alliances in turbulent times."
Turbulent times?
"Mutual understanding, huh? I find that phrase often means one party giving while the other takes."
Baron Wykes's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Perhaps it depends on who holds the leverage."
Kaspian visibly stiffened, his hand twitching toward his side as if seeking a weapon that wasn't there. I leaned back in my chair, meeting Baron's gaze with a cool indifference.
"Leverage is a funny thing. It's often not as secure as one thinks."
A deafening silence followed. Otis was the one to break it.
"True. But those who thrive in Xyrus understand that appearances, while fragile, hold power. Disrupting them often invites unfortunate consequences."
"Is that a warning, Lord Wykes?" I asked, my tone still light but my smile gone.
"Merely an observation," he replied, his smile returning, though now it resembled the baring of teeth.
Baron leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "As fellow special grade, tell me, Rimuru, what do you think of the current state of Dicathen? Surely, you have your opinions."
"Opinions, yes," I replied, locking eyes with him. "But whether they're meant to be shared is another matter."
The younger Wykes chuckled softly, though it lacked any warmth.
"Cautious. I suppose that's how you made it this far, yes? But caution only goes so far. Eventually, decisions must be made."
"And actions taken," Otis added, his gaze flitting briefly to Kaspian before settling back on me. "Inaction is, after all, its own kind of choice."
I tilted my head and smiled. "Uh-huh. You're right. Just as overconfidence is its own kind of weakness."
"…"
The tension was palpable now, like a fragile thread stretched to its limit. Kaspian's unease radiated from him, but he wisely held his tongue. The butler entered, breaking the silence with a quiet announcement.
"The main course is ready, my lords."
Otis stood smoothly. "Ah, excellent. Shall we continue this conversation over something more substantial? I assure you, the meal will be worth your time."
I rose. "Lead the way, Lord Wykes. I'm eager to see what else you have to offer."
The dining hall was just as ostentatious as the rest of the estate, if not more so. A long, polished mahogany table dominated the room, and the centerpiece was an impressive array of dishes, each more decadent than the last, their aromas mingling to create an intoxicating atmosphere.
Kaspian hesitated before taking his seat.
I settled in without a second thought, my gaze landing on Otis and Baron as they positioned themselves at the head of the table. Whatever they had planned, they clearly thought themselves clever.
The first course was served: a spiced soup with flecks of gold leaf floating on its surface. The butler poured a fine wine into our glasses, its ruby-red hue catching the light as it swirled in the crystal.
"A toast," Otis said, raising his glass. "To new alliances and shared prosperity."
I raised mine as well, offering a faint smile. "To prosperity." Kaspian also clinked his glass against mine.
The soup was admittedly good. Each spoonful carried a blend of flavors so nice it could only have been made by a master chef. Still, as I ate, I couldn't help but note the faint bitterness that lingered at the edge of each bite, subtle but unmistakable.
The Wykes thought they were subtle, too.
The courses continued, each more extravagant than the last. Tender cuts of meat, glistening with juices. Salads made from ingredients so rare they might as well have been plucked from a different plane. Desserts that melted on the tongue like snow. The wine flowed freely, though I made a point to sip sparingly.
Through it all, Otis kept the conversation light but probing. Questions about my activities so far, musings about the political climate, veiled suggestions about mutual interests. Baron, on the other hand, remained mostly silent, his predatory eyes studying me.
Ew.
Kaspian barely touched his food. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.
When the final dish was cleared away, Otis leaned back in his chair as he wiped his mouth with a table napkin. "I trust the meal was to your liking, Rimuru?"
I dabbed at my lips with my own napkin and set it down neatly. "Oh, it was splendid. Truly. Your chef is a marvel."
Baron's smirk widened ever so slightly. "We pride ourselves on offering only the best. After all, nothing less would suffice for a guest of your stature."
I leaned back, clasping my hands together and letting silence settle over the table for a moment. Then, with deliberate nonchalance, I spoke.
"That said, I'm curious. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
The room went still.
Otis's smile froze, and for the first time, a hint of something unreadable crossed his face. Baron's expression tightened, the faint smirk vanishing like mist under the sun.
"I beg your pardon?" Otis asked, his tone carefully measured.
I tilted my head, as if pondering how best to explain.
"You know, the venom. Or rather, the cocktail of venoms. Subtle and sneaky, I'll give you that. Layered into the soup, enhanced with a magical suppressant to mask the taste. Ingenious, really. Most people wouldn't have caught it—certainly not someone without an extremely sensitive constitution or, say, a high resistance to toxins."
Kaspian stiffened, his eyes darting between me and the Wykes. Otis's smile faltered, and Baron's hands clenched into fists on the table.
"I have to admire the craftsmanship," I continued, my tone conversational. "You managed to combine several of the most potent venoms known to the Beast Glades. There was even a trace of Viperroot, if I'm not mistaken? Hell, that's an S-rank beast, isn't it? Quite deadly, even for a white-core mage."
Otis opened his mouth to speak, but I raised a hand to stop him, my smile turning cold as I let my Lord's Ambition flare.
"Don't bother denying it. I'm not offended. If anything, I'm impressed by the lengths you went to. Poisoning me took some real balls, so I'll give you credit for that."
Baron's chair scraped against the floor as he abruptly stood, his face a mask of fury and disbelief. "You're bluffing," he spat. "There's no way—"
I turned to him. "Baron Wykes, sit down. You're embarrassing yourself."
He hesitated, his body taut with barely restrained anger, but Otis raised a hand, and he reluctantly obeyed. The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.
"You're unharmed," Otis finally said. "Why?"
"Because," I said, standing and brushing imaginary dust from my sleeve, "your little concoction couldn't harm me even if I drank it by the gallon. My body neutralizes toxins on contact. But you knew that, didn't you? You were hoping it would at least weaken me. Create an opening. Am I wrong? Perhaps hypnotize and monopolize me?"
Otis didn't answer. His expression was unreadable, but the faint sheen of sweat on his brow betrayed him.
I stepped closer to the head of the table, my smile gone.
"Here's the thing, Lord Wykes. I don't take kindly to being toyed with. And while I'm inclined to let this slide in favor of my, dare I say, patience as vast as the sea—for now—don't mistake my leniency for weakness."
I leaned in, my voice dropping to a whisper. "If you ever try something like this again, I won't just ruin you. I'll make you wish you'd never been born. All of you Wykes."
Otis's face paled, and Baron looked ready to lunge at me, but he held himself back since I had the advantage of having his father just in front of me. I straightened and turned toward the door.
"Kaspian, let's go. I think we've overstayed our welcome."
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