CHAPTER 57: ON TIME (2)

Ayren’s smile widened fractionally. "Precisely. One connection, properly leveraged, creates ripples throughout the entire structure." He turned back to the slate, adding more lines, more connections. "Now, what of Kale and his hidden illiteracy? How might that serve us?"

For the next hour, Ayren transformed Soren’s raw information into a complex tapestry of potential manipulations. Each recruit’s weakness became a pressure point, each relationship a potential fulcrum. The chalk lines multiplied until the slate resembled a spider’s web, with House Velrane at its center, unseen but controlling every strand.

Soren watched, absorbing the lessons with growing unease yet undeniable fascination. This was knowledge weaponized, information transformed into power with surgical precision. Nothing wasted. Nothing overlooked. Every fact bent toward advantage.

"Your turn," Ayren said suddenly, offering the chalk. "Two recruits both seek recognition from Kaelor, the coveted position as his personal assistant for the coming tournament. Show me how you would use them against each other."

Soren took the chalk, its weight insignificant yet somehow heavier than Kaelor’s training sword. He studied the web of connections, considering the question carefully.

"I would identify which recruit Kaelor actually favors," he began, chalk hovering near the slate. "Then ensure the other learns of it, not directly, but through carefully placed rumors. His jealousy would drive him to discredit his rival."

"Pedestrian," Ayren interrupted, disapproval evident in the single word. "You’re thinking too small, too direct. Try again."

Soren paused, the shard warming slightly against his chest as Valenna’s presence sharpened. Her voice whispered through his mind, cool and measured.

"Why choose between them when both can serve your purpose?"

He drew a breath, reconsidering. "I would approach each separately," he said, drawing new lines on the slate. "Tell each that Kaelor values loyalty above all else, but that he suspects the other of speaking ill of him behind his back. Suggest that reporting such disloyalty would demonstrate their own worthiness."

Ayren’s expression remained neutral, but something flickered in his violet eyes, interest, perhaps.

"Continue," he said, gesturing for Soren to elaborate.

"Each would begin watching the other for any hint of disrespect toward Kaelor," Soren explained, the strategy unfolding in his mind as he spoke. "Each would interpret innocent comments as potential disloyalty. Eventually, one or both would report something to Kaelor, who would recognize the falsehood for what it was."

"And then?" Ayren prompted.

"Both recruits lose Kaelor’s trust," Soren concluded. "Opening the position for someone else, someone of our choosing, who appears uninvolved in their petty rivalry."

Ayren’s mouth curved in that knife-edge smile again. "Better," he acknowledged. "Though still lacking in certain... refinements."

He took the chalk back, adding several lines to Soren’s diagram. "Why stop at discrediting them with Kaelor? Their rivalry could be used to isolate them from their existing alliances. To create divisions among their supporters. To test the loyalties of others in their circles." His chalk moved rapidly, expanding the web. "A single stone, properly cast, can create ripples that transform the entire pond."

Soren absorbed this, seeing how his approach, which had seemed clever moments ago, now appeared limited and unimaginative by comparison. The shard pulsed once against his chest, Valenna’s voice whispering again.

"He would make monsters of men, and weapons of monsters."

Ayren set the chalk aside, dusting his fingers with fastidious care. "This is the true battlefield, Thorne. Not the training yard with its straightforward contests of strength and skill, but here, in the shadows between what men know, what they fear, and what they desire." He returned to his desk, resuming his seat with fluid grace. "Kaelor teaches you to kill with steel. I teach you to rule with whispers."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Soren remained silent, processing the lesson and its darker undertones.

Part of him recoiled from the calculated cruelty of Ayren’s methods, the casual way he spoke of exploiting fears and weaknesses.

Yet another part recognized the undeniable effectiveness of such approaches. In a world of predators, these were the skills of the apex hunter.

"The hour grows late," Ayren said finally, returning his attention to the parchment on his desk. "You will continue your observations. Next time, I expect not just information, but strategies for its application. Think beyond the obvious.

Look deeper. Find the connections no one else sees."

"As you command, my lord," Soren replied, inclining his head slightly. The formal words felt strange in his mouth after an hour of dissecting human nature like specimens in a scholar’s laboratory.

Ayren waved a dismissive hand without looking up from his parchment. The audience was over.

Soren turned toward the door, his mind already churning through the implications of what he’d learned. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the weight of other men’s secrets pressed down on his shoulders.

The shard against his chest remained cool and silent, offering no judgment on the path he was walking.

The corridor outside Ayren’s chamber felt warmer by comparison, though the torches burned no brighter.

Soren paused, pressing his back against the stone wall as he processed the lesson. The chalk dust on his fingers felt like ash, the remnants of innocence burned away in the furnace of necessity.

’This is what they want me to become,’ he thought, staring at the shadows dancing on the opposite wall. ’Not just a swordsman. A manipulator. Someone who sees weakness and exploits it without hesitation.’

The memory of Ayren’s spider web diagram lingered in his mind, each line representing a life that could be twisted to serve House Velrane’s purposes. Tavren’s fear of his father. Marken’s desperate love for his sister. Kale’s shame about his illiteracy.

Human weaknesses laid out like ingredients for a recipe. This was power in its most distilled form, and it left a sour taste in Soren’s mouth.

The shard against his chest pulsed once, warming slightly. ’And what are your weaknesses, little knife?’ Valenna’s voice whispered through his mind. ’What levers would Ayren use against you, if he knew them all?’

Soren pushed away from the wall, unwilling to examine that question too closely. Better to be the hunter than the hunted. Better to learn these lessons than fall victim to them.