Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage

CH679 Lady Wintermere’s Choice I

***

With that in mind, Peyton did not dare lower his guard around his own second-in-command. Still, he gave no outward sign of suspicion.

”Reach out to that woman. Let her use her contacts to track them down. And remind her what will happen if she refuses. If I fail to deliver the Theolonium, she will have all those disappointed Temples to answer to,” Peyton said coldly.

”Understood,” the vice-leader replied with a nod.

”Also, order all our forces to abandon the minor outposts and regroup. We will consolidate our strength, identify their likely targets, and force them to come to us,” Peyton added.

The vice-leader nodded once more, accepting the command without question.

Peyton waved his hand dismissively.

The man turned and left without delay, moving to relay the orders.

—

Banshee Estate...

Within the residence used by the Drumvale Merchant Consortium in BloodIron, Lady Wintermere received Peyton’s demand for assistance via a bird messenger.

Under normal circumstances, she would have ignored the rudeness in Peyton’s tone. As a merchant, profit mattered far more than personal feelings.

However, after her recent encounter with Alex, Peyton’s words grated on her in a way she could not simply dismiss.

She was fully aware that she was being influenced—nudged, even—by Alex’s earlier words.

And yet... she allowed it.

All of Peyton’s past misdeeds rose unbidden to the forefront of her mind, and for a brief moment, she felt the urge to tear the message apart.

She restrained herself—barely.

Too much was at stake for her to act impulsively.

Just as she began carefully weighing the benefits and risks of offering Peyton support—or withholding it—a sudden commotion broke out at the front entrance.

Frowning slightly, she moved to the window and looked down.

Below, she saw the BattleBane Guild Master, Saul Redwald, attempting to gain entry—only to be stopped by the butler.

Without hesitation, Lady Wintermere left her room, descended the stairs, and quickly made her way to the entrance hall.

”To what do I owe the pleasure, Guild Master of the BattleBane Guild?” she asked as she approached.

Although her words were polite, the tone beneath them carried unmistakable displeasure.

”Oh, Lady Wintermere, forgive the intrusion,” the BattleBane Guild Master said with an apologetic bow. ”After meeting your butler the other day, I found myself feeling a certain kinship with him. I was hoping we might spar, but it seems he is not inclined to oblige.”

”Do conduct yourself properly, Saul Redwald,” the butler replied, his composure only barely intact. ”You are a respected Guild Master. How can you come to disturb someone at their place of employment in such a manner?”

Lady Wintermere’s eyes flickered with thought.

’Is he here to stop me from sending my butler to assist Peyton?’

After all, one of the options she had been seriously considering was dispatching her butler to aid Peyton in dealing with the current situation.

There existed an unspoken rule throughout the Wildlands—conflicts were not to escalate to the Saint level.

No one wished to suffer the devastation left in the wake of a Combat Saint battle. As such, most conflicts were forced into stalemate the moment Saints were about to be involved.

By sending out her butler, Lady Wintermere had intended to force precisely such a stalemate between Alex’s Fortuna party and Brock Peyton’s Lost Heathens—creating an opportunity to convene another negotiation between the two sides.

It was the safest option.

It allowed her to avoid choosing between either party.

Yet now, it seemed Alex had anticipated this move and dispatched the BattleBane Guild Master to intercept it at its source.

As she weighed how best to deal with this unexpected interference, another disturbance arose—this time from the front gate.

”What is happening?” she asked sharply as a guard rushed over.

”Sir Raven Horn has arrived at the gates with several carriages,” the guard reported. ”He requests entry to deliver a shipment.”

Lady Wintermere’s brows drew together.

”Bring him here,” she ordered.

Not long after, Raven Horn approached with his usual carefree demeanour. Upon seeing Saul Redwald standing at the entrance of the Drumvale residence, he feigned a rather unconvincing look of surprise.

”Lady Wintermere, you look as—no, even more—jaw-droppingly beautiful than usual,” Raven Horn greeted, delivering his line with theatrical flair.

Lady Wintermere barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Fortunately, his next words gave her reason to hold back.

”Young Master Alex has asked me to deliver the first half of the agreed shipment of Theolonium. Given the value of the goods, I thought it best to deliver them to you personally,” Raven Horn said.

”If you would kindly instruct your men to open the gates, we can proceed with the delivery and complete the handover.” He added with a pleasant smile.

Lady Wintermere was stunned.

So was the Combat Saint butler standing beside her.

”You... truly brought the Theolonium shipment?” she asked, unable to conceal her surprise.

”Indeed,” Raven Horn nodded. ”Young Master Alex insisted I expedite the delivery. He said, ’When people are given too many options, they fall into choice paralysis. In business, it is better to present fewer, clearer options so that the other party can make the right, decisive choice.’

”Wise words, don’t you think? I must admit, I found it hard to believe such insight came from someone so young.”

He spoke with a meaningful look in his eyes.

Lady Wintermere felt a chill run through her.

It was as though her thoughts had been laid bare before a man barely half her age.

Alex had seen through her hesitation—her indecision—and instead of confronting it directly, he had simply removed her ability to hesitate altogether.

He had reduced her choices to two.

Support him fully... or oppose him completely.

There was no longer any room for compromise. No middle ground left to tread.

Worse still, he had not merely limited her choices—he had subtly guided her towards the option he desired, presenting it as the most logical and rational path forward.

Yet—

”Humans are not governed by logic alone,” Lady Wintermere said suddenly, her gaze moving between Raven Horn and Saul Redwald. ”We are far more emotional than we care to admit.”

”Is your young master not worried that I might still betray him after this?” she asked, turning to Raven Horn. Then, shifting her gaze to Saul Redwald, she added, ”And surely, you do not believe my butler here is the only Combat Saint dispatched by Drumvale. Do you truly think you can hold off all of them on your own?”

***