CH680 Lady Wintermere’s Choice II

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"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?"

To her surprise, Raven Horn and Saul Redwald exchanged a glance—then chuckled.

Lady Wintermere and her butler both raised their brows, confusion evident on their faces.

"My apologies, we meant no disrespect," Raven Horn said quickly, calming himself. "It is just that... ’our’ young master—as you put it—anticipated you’d think this way."

"There is no need to test the nature of our relationship with Young Master Alex," he continued. "As we stated during our last meeting, both of us have already established firm partnerships with him."

He smiled lightly.

"But to answer your question—no, he is not worried that you will betray him. He follows a rather simple philosophy. Any strong partnership must be built upon a foundation of respect and trust.

"In his words, ’Trust those you choose to work with; do not work with those you cannot trust’. Since he has chosen to work with you, he has already made the first move—placing his trust in you, so that, in time, you may choose to reciprocate."

"Humans are indeed emotional," Raven Horn added with a nod. "But tell me... can you receive that same level of sincerity from Brock Peyton?"

His gaze locked onto Lady Wintermere’s, calm, solemn yet piercing.

Then, just as suddenly, he smiled again—as if that solemn moment had never existed.

Saul Redwald stepped forward slightly and added in a simple, steady tone,

"Just as you possess hidden forces known only to yourself... are you certain that Young Master Alex does not possess forces unknown to you?"

Lady Wintermere felt her thoughts tremble.

’That... is true,’ she admitted inwardly.

’None of the intelligence I have gathered on him explains his connections with the BattleBane Guild or the Black Scar Syndicate.’

Her eyes darkened slightly as the implications settled in.

’Who is to say there are not other forces—hidden in the shadows—that I have yet to uncover?’

Faced with a choice between a crude thug like Brock Peyton and an unfathomable enigma like Alex, Lady Wintermere knew instinctively which one posed the greater threat—and, in doing so, her decision was made for her.

A faint, ironic amusement surfaced within her.

Brock Peyton had sent her a letter filled with bluster, threats, and arrogance.

Meanwhile, Alex’s message had been... polite—at least on the surface. He had even gone so far as to provide exactly what she wanted.

And yet, in her eyes, the balance had completely changed.

Peyton had become nothing more than a joke.

Alex, on the other hand... carried a quiet, suffocating terror.

The man who threatened her was now laughable while the one who showed quiet restraint was now the one to fear.

Even she found the contradiction absurd—yet it stood before her as undeniable reality.

Lady Wintermere let out a silent sigh.

"BattleBane Guild Master, my butler is a busy man," she said calmly to Saul Redwald. "He has neither the time nor the inclination to indulge in sparring."

She then turned to Raven Horn.

"I ask for your patience. I will have my staff receive the shipment shortly. Please convey my gratitude to your young master for his generosity.

"Indeed, he was correct. Once my choices were narrowed, the proper path became immediately clear. I will remember this lesson well."

Saul Redwald and Raven Horn exchanged a glance.

Without another word, Saul turned and began to leave.

With the lady of the estate having made her stance clear, there was no longer any need—or justification—for him to remain and provoke her butler further.

His task here was complete.

Now, it was time for Lady Wintermere to act upon her decision.

Raven Horn gave a small shrug before turning to signal his men at the gates. With that done, he too prepared to depart.

Just as he turned to leave, he paused.

With his back still facing her, he spoke.

"I have met many people in my life. Be careful... Alex Fury is as vindictive as he is trustworthy.

"You are better off letting him know you stand against him than betraying him. The former is business—and business can be resolved. The latter, however, becomes personal. And..."

He paused briefly.

"...even I would rather not imagine what he does when things become personal."

As he spoke, Raven Horn recalled Alex’s eyes—those pupils that shifted between a calm, welcoming ruby-red and a chilling crimson, laced with an abyssal madness with no clear depth that seemed to swallow reason itself.

With that final warning delivered, he resumed his steps and left the Banshee Estate, leaving his subordinates behind to oversee the transfer of goods.

Only after he had completely disappeared from sight did Lady Wintermere turn to her butler. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

"Send a reply to Brock Peyton. Inform him that I will be dispatching reinforcements to help him bring this matter to a decisive end," she said.

The butler’s eyes flickered briefly, but he did not question her decision.

Instead, he asked, "Which force would you like to mobilise?"

"Deploy a company from the local security order. That should suffice," Lady Wintermere replied after a moment of consideration.

She paused, then added,

"Actually... come with me. I will draft a letter personally. It is to be delivered directly into the hands of the commanding officer."

"I will see to it personally," the butler replied.

Lady Wintermere gave a small nod before turning and making her way back towards her study.

Moments later, a team of servants hurried out to receive the shipment from the Black Scar Syndicate.

Later that same day, on the outskirts of BloodIron, a company belonging to one of Drumvale’s hidden forces rode out of the city at speed.

Their destination—

To rendezvous with a Lost Heathen force that had departed earlier... led by Brock Peyton himself.

At the same time, a messenger bird took to the skies, flying in the same direction.

The board had been set.

Now, only the battlefield would decide victory... or defeat.

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