CHAPTER 211: FALL OF VALTAIR [7]

Alaric stepped off the dance floor.

The silver-masked woman still smiling behind him. He’d gotten what he needed.

He released her hand. Bowed slightly.

"Thank you for the dance."

"The pleasure was mine." She lingered. Hopeful. "Perhaps another later?"

"Perhaps." His smile stayed charming. Empty underneath.

Then he moved away. Back into the crowd before she could press further.

His eyes scanned. The scanner still active in his vision. Names floating above heads.

Then he saw her.

A woman. Sitting alone near one of the side galleries. Away from the main crowd but still visible. Watching the dancers with detached interest.

Red mask. Her dress was elegant, deep wine color that matched the mask. Her dark amber hair pinned up.

[Countess Viviane]

The name appeared above her head.

Interesting.

She held a wine glass. Half-empty. Alaric grabbed two fresh glasses from a passing servant. Made his way toward her with easy confidence.

She noticed him approaching. Her eyes tracked his movement but she didn’t shift position. Just waited.

He stopped in front of her. Offered one of the glasses.

"You look like you could use better company than that wine."

Her eyebrow raised behind the red mask. "Bold assumption."

"Educated guess." He tilted his head. "Beautiful woman. Sitting alone. Watching others have fun instead of joining them. Either you’re waiting for someone very important..."

He let the pause hang.

"Or you’re desperately bored."

Her lips twitched. Almost a smile. "And you’re here to rescue me from my terrible fate?"

"I’m here to offer a dance." He gestured toward the floor. "Whether that’s rescue or further torture depends entirely on my skill."

She laughed.

"Well. At least you’re honest about the risk." She took the offered glass. Sipped. Then set both glasses aside on the small table beside her chair.

Stood. Smoothed her dress.

"One dance. If you step on my feet, I’m walking away."

"Fair terms."

He offered his hand. She took it.

They moved toward the dance floor together. But before they reached it, she paused.

And leaned closer. Her voice dropping.

"Though I suspect dancing isn’t really what you’re after."

Alaric’s smile didn’t falter. "What makes you think that?"

"Because I’ve been watching you. You’re hunting something." Her red mask tilted. Assessing. "Question is... what?"

He adjusted tactics immediately. His expression shifting. Becoming more genuine. Less performance.

"Maybe I’m hunting someone who understands the game being played here."

"And you think that’s me?"

"I think..." He leaned closer. Voice dropping to match hers. "That you’re not here for the wine and dancing either."

Her eyes studied him. Sharp. Calculating.

Then she smiled. Slow. Predatory.

"Come with me."

She released his hand. Started walking. Not toward the dance floor. Toward one of the side corridors. Away from the main crowd.

Alaric glanced back.

A figure moved through the crowd. Following at a distance. One of his subjugated targets. Tracking his movement.

Alaric gave the slightest nod.

Then he followed the Countess.

She led him down a quieter hallway. The music and noise fading behind them. Doors lined both sides. Private meeting rooms for those who wanted discretion.

She stopped at one. Pushed it open without hesitation.

"After you."

Alaric entered. The room was small. Comfortable. Two chairs. A small table. Lamp burning low.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Vivienne moved to lean against the table. Arms crossed.

"So." Her voice carried no pretense now. All business. "What do you really want?"

Alaric stayed near the door. Didn’t crowd her.

His posture relaxed. Hands in pockets. Like this was just a casual conversation.

"Information. Opportunity." He tilted his head. "Same as everyone else here."

"Boring answer." She didn’t move. "Try again."

"Alright." His tone shifted. Became more direct. "I want to talk about power. About what happens when foundations start cracking."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Whose foundations?"

"Valtair’s."

Vivienne’s expression didn’t change. But something flickered behind her eyes.

"Bold thing to say. Especially to someone you just met."

"Is it?" Alaric took one step closer. "Because I think you’ve already noticed."

He watched her face. Reading micro-expressions.

"Your husband’s network is collapsing. Slowly. Systematically. And you’re smart enough to see the pattern."

Vivienne’s jaw tightened. Just slightly.

So, he knows who am I...

"And why are you telling me this?"

"Because you’re not stupid." Alaric’s voice dropped lower, more intimate. "You know what happens when powerful men fall. Everyone around them gets dragged down."

He took another step. "Unless they’re smart enough to position themselves differently."

"Position myself." She repeated. Her arms stayed crossed. "Against my own husband."

"Not against. Ahead of." His eyes held hers.

"When Valtair falls—and he will fall—those who saw it coming and prepared will survive. Those who didn’t..."

He shrugged. Let the implication hang.

Vivienne’s fingers tapped against her arm. Thinking.

"You’re suggesting I abandon him."

"I’m suggesting you protect yourself." Alaric moved closer again. Just a foot away now. "How many mistresses does he keep?"

Her expression flickered. Anger. Resentment. But quickly suppressed.

"Six? Seven?" Alaric’s voice stayed gentle. Understanding. "While you manage his household. Handle the politics he’s too busy to deal with. Play the dutiful wife."

"Marriage isn’t about love in our world." Her voice came sharp. "It’s about power. Alliance."

"Exactly." He nodded. "So when that alliance becomes a liability instead of an asset... what then?"

She didn’t answer. But her posture had shifted.

"You’ve built connections of your own." Alaric continued, pushing carefully. "Made alliances he probably doesn’t even know about. You’re too smart not to have contingencies."

Her silence confirmed it.

"So use them." His voice dropped further. Almost a whisper. "When Valtair falls, be the one who remains standing. Take what’s yours. The estates. The wealth. The real power."

He was close enough now to smell her perfume.

"You deserve better than being an afterthought while he can’t keep his dick in his pants and ignores everything you have done."

Vivienne’s breathing had changed. Her eyes searched his face.

"How do I know you’re not just trying to use me?"

"I am using you." His honesty was disarming. "But I’m offering something in return. Protection. Resources. A position where you control your own fate instead of being tied to a sinking ship."

His hand came up. Slowly resting on her arm. Gentle. Comforting rather than aggressive.

"You’re brilliant. Capable. Wasted on someone who doesn’t appreciate what he has."

"I—" She started, then stopped. Her confidence wavering for the first time.

"Who are you?"

Alaric smiled, charming as ever. "Just someone who knows how to recognize worth... and protect it."

His hand slid from her arm, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Then he leaned in.

"Someone who understands when something’s too valuable to overlook."

His other hand coming up to rest lightly on her waist.

"Let me show you what it’s like to be valued."

Her breath caught. Eyes fluttered shut. Heartbeat quickened.

Alaric’s lips drifted towards her neck, slowly.

She tilted her head, surrendering a little more.

His breath ghosted across her skin. Warm. Intimate, lips touching right at the pulse point below her ear.

And then... his hand shifted. Moved from her waist.

[Obedience Chains!]

Ethereal chains shot out. Wrapped around Vivienne’s consciousness before she could even process what was happening.

Her eyes went wide. Mouth opened—

But no sound came.

The chains burrowed deep. Into her mind. Her will. Crushing resistance that would normally take hours to overcome.

But she’d been completely vulnerable. Defenses down. Seduced into dropping every mental guard.

[DING!]

[Target successfully subjugated!]

Remove the broker.

[Removing: Merchant Broker!]

[Adding: Countess Vivienne Valtair]

[Subjugated Targets: 3/3]

The chains faded. Disappeared like they’d never existed.

Vivienne stood there. Frozen. Her eyes still wide.

Then refocusing with new understanding.

Alaric pulled back. Released her. Stepped away to give her space.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Her hand came up. Touched where his lips had been. Confused. Trying to understand what just happened.

Then her gaze found his.

She opened her mouth.

"My lord." The words came automatically. The Countess who’d been sharp and calculating moments ago was gone.

Replaced by something simpler.

Alaric’s expression stayed neutral.

"You understand what you need to do?"

"Yes."

"Good." He adjusted his mask. "Now listen carefully..."

He told her what she needed to do now, and later.

Then...

"Return to the gathering. Act normal. When I need you, you’ll know."

She looked at him, then gave his arm a brief hug. "Okay."

She moved toward the door and left, door closing behind her.

Leaving Alaric alone in the small room.