CHAPTER 67: VARNACITE VEIN [2]

"The proposal shows admirable... cooperation," Alaric began, his tone respectful but somehow commanding attention.

"However, I fear we’re treating symptoms rather than the disease."

He paused, letting the words settle.

"This vein is merely the first. The geological surveys suggest a network beneath these lands, one that extends far beyond the current borders of discussion."

Baron Varell shifted uncomfortably. "What are you suggesting?"

Alaric’s smile was polite, almost apologetic. "I believe we may be... overcomplicating matters."

"The proposed joint venture is elegant, truly. But I wonder if we’ve considered the practical realities of extraction."

He gestured subtly toward the map spread across the table’s center.

"The vein runs deepest beneath Blackthorn lands, the surveys confirm this. While the surface deposits extend to neighboring territories, the true wealth lies in the deep shafts that would need to originate from Lady Selene’s domain."

Baron Varell frowned. "The ore can still be extracted from multiple points—"

"At considerable additional cost," Alaric interrupted gently.

"Deep mining requires specialized equipment, experienced foremen, and most critically, absolute operational control to prevent cave-ins."

He turned to Baroness Elira. "Your Stonevile miners are skilled, my lady, but this ore requires techniques unlike any quarry work."

Baroness Elira’s jaw tightened slightly, recognizing the subtle dismissal wrapped in respect.

"What are you suggesting?" Duke Garran asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

Alaric spoke again, "That perhaps the most efficient approach would be centralized extraction from Blackthorn, with fair compensation to the other territories based on their surface deposits. Lady Selene would bear the technical risks and operational costs, while ensuring everyone receives their due share."

The silence stretched taut.

Veleria’s eyes had narrowed, clearly recognizing the masterful political maneuver, Alaric had just proposed that Blackthorn take operational control of the entire vein while making it sound like a burden they were generously accepting.

"Centralized... under Blackthorn oversight?" Baroness Elira said slowly, her voice carefully controlled.

"Under expert oversight," Alaric corrected smoothly.

"The ore’s rarity demands precision. A single mistake could collapse the entire network and cost us all dearly. Better to entrust it to those who understand both the land and the risks intimately."

Baron Torren leaned forward from the far end of the table. "And the profits?"

"Distributed fairly, naturally," Alaric replied, his tone suggesting this was never in question.

"But with Blackthorn assuming the liability for any operational failures."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Veleria’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her goblet.

How?

She had spent years learning to read the undercurrents of noble politics, and what she was witnessing was a masterclass in manipulation that made her own earlier proposal seem like a child’s gambit.

Her sapphire-blue eyes studied Alaric with newfound wariness—this wasn’t the unremarkable nephew she had dismissed.

The way he had dismantled her carefully crafted joint venture without directly opposing it, instead offering what sounded like a generous alternative while actually seizing control... it was breathtaking in its audacity.

A muscle in her jaw twitched as she realized he had likely seen through her father’s own maneuvering from the beginning. Where she had thought herself clever in securing ducal oversight, this young man was positioning to make such oversight irrelevant by controlling the entire operation from the source.

She remained silent, but her mind was racing, reassessing not just the negotiation, but the young man who had so effortlessly outmaneuvered them all.

Duke Garran’s expression remained perfectly composed, but for just an instant, something flickered in his eyes—a flash of irritation, perhaps even disdain, at being so thoroughly outmaneuvered by someone he’d likely considered insignificant.

The emotion vanished so quickly it might have been imagined, replaced by the practiced mask of diplomatic acceptance.

"A... practical approach," the Duke said finally, his voice measured.

He inclined his head with what appeared to be gracious acknowledgment.

"Very well. Blackthorn shall oversee the extraction operations, with appropriate compensation to the affected territories."

Alaric simply leaned back in his chair, his expression utterly unreadable. No triumph, no satisfaction, just the calm stillness of someone who had expected nothing less than complete success.

Selene’s lips curved into the faintest of smirks as she glanced toward him, a look of unmistakable pride and amusement dancing in her bright emerald eyes.

Then, like him, she turned her attention forward again, as though nothing had passed between them at all.

"Of course," Duke Garran continued, his tone businesslike, "we’ll need to conduct proper assessments before operations begin. I suggest each barony send representatives to the vein site, to verify the extent of the deposits and finalize the compensation arrangements."

Murmurs of agreement rippled around the table.

Baron Varell nodded curtly, while Baroness Elira’s assent was somewhat more reluctant.

"An excellent proposal, Your Grace," Selene said smoothly. "Blackthorn will have our mining overseer available within the fortnight."

The Duke’s smile was diplomatic but cool. "Splendid."

The conversation shifted to lesser matters, trade route schedules, seasonal tax collections, minor territorial disputes that seemed almost trivial after the main event.

Finally, Duke Garran rose from his chair, the scrape of wood against stone signaling the formal end of the session.

"Lords and ladies, I believe we have accomplished much today. Safe travels to those returning to their domains."

Chairs scraped back as the nobles and other officials stood, the rustle of fabric and soft murmur of polite farewells filling the chamber.

One by one, they filed toward the great oak doors, their conversations resuming in hushed tones.

The council hall slowly emptied.

The stone corridors of the Council Manor echoed with the soft footfalls of departing nobles as Selene and Alaric made their way toward the main entrance.

"You did nice job Alaric," she said gently.

Alaric just gave a small nod, "I just stated facts, nothing more."

Selene smiled, but didn’t said anything, and just kept walking.

Sari joined them a moment later, falling into step beside Alaric.

The cool afternoon air greeted them as they stepped outside the manor’s imposing doors.

"Both of you will accompany the assessment party to the vein," Selene said plainly.

Alaric raised a single eyebrow, but he remained silent.

Sari simply inclined her head. "Yes, milady."

Selene’s gaze swept the courtyard briefly before settling back on them.

"Go on ahead. I have one more matter to attend to before we depart." she said, motioning subtly toward the waiting wagons.

They parted without question.

As Alaric and Sari moved toward the Blackthorn convoy, Selene turned back toward the manor.

Duke Garran stood near the entrance, engaged in what appeared to be casual conversation with Baron Varell and two minor lords.

Selene waited patiently, her posture relaxed but attentive.

One by one, the nobles took their leave, clasping the Duke’s hand in farewell before heading to their respective retinues.

When the last had departed, she approached with measured steps.

"Your Grace," she said, offering a respectful curtsy. "Might I have a moment of your time? Privately. There’s a matter I believe we should discuss."