บท 21: Chapter 21: The Child Who Walked Like a King
They questioned me the moment I opened my mouth. It wasn't unexpected, of course. A mere child, daring to speak up while they squabbled over their so-called solutions. Their ideas, like children arguing about whose toy was better. They didn't know what they were doing, and even less about who they were dealing with.
"A child dares to speak?" the gruff one sneered, his voice filled with contempt. He was broad-shouldered, thick-necked, and clearly someone who thought his size equated to his intelligence. His eyes bore into me as if expecting me to crumble under the weight of his glare. "You've barely been here for five minutes, and already you think you can waltz in here like you're king? The only reason you're even sitting at this table is because your last name is Blackthorn."
His words? Meaningless. His threats? Laughable. He had no idea who I was, no idea who he was trying to belittle. I'd met his kind before—those who thought loud voices and bigger muscles gave them power. They were always the first to fall.
"My rank is the lowest among you?" I could barely suppress the smile that tugged at my lips. "Is that what you think?"
I didn't need to say anything more. I let the silence linger, my smile widening just enough to show him exactly what I thought of his posturing. That small, taunting grin that always worked. It wasn't the words that got under people's skin—it was the quiet. The patience. And the knowledge that I didn't care what they thought of me.
The tension in the room crackled, like a rope pulled too tight, and I could see the gruff man's face flushing with anger. He leaned forward, his hand curling into a fist, ready to lash out at me. Perfect. He was playing right into my hand. But before he could say another word, one of the older men at the table raised his hand.
"Enough."
His voice was calm, measured. He had the kind of presence that made others stop talking. Gray hair framed his weathered face, and he had the air of someone who had been through more than a few battles. His name was Lord Varon, though I didn't need him to tell me that. I knew the moment he spoke. He was the one in charge here, not the gruff one. Not the woman sitting next to him with her sharp eyes and sharper tongue. Varon controlled the room with barely more than a word.
"We're not here to throw insults around like children," he said, his eyes flicking toward the gruff man before settling back on me. "Let's not turn this into a spectacle."
The second older man, Lord Belar, nodded in agreement. "Young Blackthorn," he began, his tone more welcoming but no less calculating. "Forgive the others. They're not used to... well, change. But you've stirred their curiosity, and ours too."
Of course I had. I always did.
Belar continued, "We haven't had the chance to introduce ourselves properly. I am Lord Belar, and this is Lord Varon. Together, we hold the highest rank here." He gestured toward the others, a faint smile on his lips. "These two are more... impulsive. But they speak their minds, and that is their strength."
Strength? I nearly laughed. Strength wasn't in speaking your mind. It was in knowing when to keep it quiet. They had no idea who I was, not really. Just a name, a title—Blackthorn. It wasn't enough to earn trust, not yet.
"I have to ask," Varon said, leaning forward slightly. "Do you truly believe you can handle this? It's a group of bandits, yes, but we need assurance."
I didn't hesitate. "Yes."
Confidence wasn't something I lacked. In fact, I had too much of it, or so I'd been told before. I didn't care. It wasn't about convincing them with grand speeches—it never had been. I gave them just enough. Broken-up thoughts, pieced together like a puzzle, each word carefully chosen to sound casual. Understated. Enough to make them fill in the blanks themselves.
"We don't need brute force," I said, my voice steady, calm. "The bandits are opportunists. They prey on weakness. We cut off their access to the trade routes, quietly, without fanfare. They'll have no choice but to negotiate or scatter."
Varon and Belar exchanged a look. The two of them were older, but not fools. They knew what I was doing. But they also knew I was right.
Then they laughed.
"Confident, aren't you?" Belar said, his smile widening. "You remind me of someone I once knew. A man who thought he could solve every problem with words and wit."
Yes, I reminded him of someone. Myself. But I kept that thought to myself, letting him have his moment of nostalgia.
The gruff man, on the other hand, wasn't amused. His face twisted into a sneer. "This is ridiculous!" he spat, his voice rising. "Are we seriously going to let a child handle this? You can't be serious!"
The woman next to him nodded in agreement, her sharp gaze cutting through the room. "He's been gone for years. He doesn't know the first thing about what's happening now. Why should we trust him?"
Varon raised his hand again, silencing them both. "Relax," he said, his voice smooth. "It's just a few bandits. If he's as capable as he claims, this will be an easy test."
The gruff man's mouth opened, ready to argue, but the look Varon gave him was enough to shut him up. The older lords outranked them, and they knew it.
"We'll leave it to you, young Blackthorn," Varon said, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Handle this bandit problem, and we'll see what you're really made of."
I didn't need to respond. The smile on my face said it all.
This was just the beginning. They thought they were testing me. But in truth, I was testing them.
สถานะพลังงานรายสัปดาห์
-- การจัดอันดับด้วยพลัง 
-- หินพลัง