CHAPTER 137: CHAPTER 137: CHARMED

The room smelled of jasmine and rain.

Light slanted through the tall arched windows of the western hall, refracted through panes stained crimson and gold.

Outside, the garrison bells tolled noon, echoing over the barracks and courtyards where soldiers drilled in orderly precision. Inside, all was still — still enough that Aiden could hear his own heartbeat, steady as a war drum beneath his ribs.

He stood in the doorway, flanked by two guards. The chains at his wrists had been removed; his coat hung loose about him, its collar torn where the commander’s hand had seized him the night before. Yet he carried himself like a man entering his own court.

At the table sat the four baronesses.

Lady Shina — soft-spoken, eyes like polished obsidian, her expression unreadable. Brienne Maerwyn Cirelle

Lady Brienne — older, sharp-featured, her hair bound in silver cords, fingers wrapped around a cup of tea as if it were a dagger.

Lady Maerwyn — with laughter always at the edge of her lips, yet none in her eyes.

And Lady Cirelle — young, restless, the scent of danger clinging to her like perfume.

They had come at the summons of rumor — to see the knight who had defied the Earl of Wessex, who had walked chained into the cells and come back out with his smile intact.

Aiden crossed the room with deliberate grace.

Every step was measured, every gesture crafted to speak of control. Inside, his mind raced — assessing, calculating. He could almost hear Arina’s voice in the back of his head, warning him not to push too far. But he had no intention of restraint. This was his arena now.

When he reached the table, he bowed. "My ladies," he said, his tone warm enough to melt iron. "Forgive my appearance. Prison air does little for a man’s complexion."

A ripple of restrained amusement moved among them.

Lady Brienne’s lips twitched. "You’re bold to jest, Sir Aiden. Most men facing judgment would be praying, not smiling."

"Prayer," Aiden replied, "is for those waiting to be saved. I’m not one of them."

He took the empty seat across from them, uninvited, but no one stopped him.

Shina watched him closely — not with affection, but with the careful attention of someone reading an unfamiliar weapon. She knew what he was doing.

She’d seen it before, that subtle command in his voice, the pull of his gaze. Yet something in her — a dangerous curiosity — kept her silent.

Tanya entered quietly then, balancing a tray of porcelain cups. Steam rose from the tea within, carrying the faint metallic tang of something stronger beneath. She met Aiden’s eyes briefly — the faintest nod passing between them.

When she poured for the ladies, the room filled with the scent of spiced berries and smoke.

"Let us speak plainly," Aiden said once the cups were filled. "You’ve heard the whispers. You’ve seen what the Earl does to those he deems inconvenient. You know how this will end if I remain alone."

Lady Maerwyn tilted her head. "You think to rally us against him?"

"I think to survive," he said. "And survival, my lady, is an art best practiced in company."

The tension in the air thickened. Outside, a bell tolled again, distant and mournful.

Aiden leaned forward, lowering his voice. "The Earl believes he has cornered me. He forgets that I do not fight with a sword alone. Even now, messengers ride north and east — to the Leonidus capital, to Viscount August himself. Another heads south, to the Merlin duchy. To Duchess Sabrina."

The names fell like stones into still water. The ripple was immediate.

Lady Cirelle’s eyes widened. Lady Brienne’s knuckles whitened on her cup.

Aiden continued, voice low and even. "Tell me — what happens when those two houses learn their knight has been chained, humiliated, by a drunken lord of Wessex?"

Shina spoke for the first time, her tone quiet but cutting. "They will not ignore it."

"No," Aiden said, "they will not."

For a moment, the room held its breath. Then Lady Maerwyn laughed softly, though her hands trembled slightly. "If this is true, then Wessex will burn. And we with it."

"Not if we choose our side now," Aiden said.

He rose, slow and deliberate, the light catching the faint sheen of his hair. His presence filled the space like heat from a forge — invisible, but felt in every breath.

He moved around the table, not to threaten, but to circle — a wolf testing the edges of the pack. His voice softened. "I’m not asking for rebellion. I’m offering protection. A shield, before the storm arrives. When Leonidus and Merlin march — and they will — you’ll want to be remembered as the ones who stood beside me."

Lady Brienne looked up sharply. "And what of our families? Our sons, our lands? What do we gain from siding with a condemned knight?"

Aiden stopped behind her chair. The air seemed to hum between them.

"You gain," he said quietly, "a future."

He bent slightly, his words close enough that she could feel the warmth of them. "You’ve seen what the Earl has become. His temper. His weakness. He surrounds himself with flatterers and parasites. You deserve more than to be buried with his failures."

Brienne’s jaw tightened. She did not look at him, but she did not pull away either.

Aiden continued, circling to Shina next. "And you," he said, voice softening further. "You’ve watched this fife rot from within. You know what it needs — someone who can cleanse it, not with holy words or empty decrees, but with fire and precision."

Shina met his gaze. For an instant, she saw something behind the charm — a flicker of exhaustion, of old pain. Something human. It startled her more than the power in his voice.

"You speak as if you are that someone," she said.

"I am," he answered simply.

The others murmured, uncertain, curious. The room pulsed with possibility — and fear.

Tanya refilled the cups. The scent of the fresh tea grew heavier, more intoxicating.

Aiden let the silence stretch before speaking again. "The Earl thinks me weak. So did the commander. They forget that weakness is often the most dangerous disguise."

He turned toward the windows, watching light fracture against the stained glass — red and gold, like blood and dawn. "By the time they realize the truth, it will already be too late."

Lady Maerwyn frowned. "And what truth is that?"

He smiled over his shoulder. "That I’m not playing their game. I’m building my own."

For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then Shina — always the first to read the deeper current — exhaled slowly. "You’re dangerous, Aiden."

"Only to those who stand in my way."

Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer, then she lifted her cup and drank. The others followed, one by one, whether out of courage or fear he could not tell.

When the last cup was set down, Aiden straightened. His expression softened into something almost gentle. "You’ve all lost something to this realm’s decay. I offer you a chance to regain it — not with promises, but with action. When the letters reach their mark, the tides will shift. I will need voices that speak for me inside these walls."

Lady Brienne glanced at Shina, then back to Aiden. "And if we refuse?"

He smiled faintly. "Then when the storm comes, you’ll wish you hadn’t."

The words hung in the air, half-threat, half-prophecy.

Then, with deliberate calm, he bowed once more. "Thank you, my ladies. For your hospitality."

He turned and walked toward the door. Behind him, the silence broke into murmurs — speculation, fear, something like excitement.

As he stepped into the corridor, the light dimmed. Baron Meliodas waited near the archway, arms folded, face heavy with conflict.

"Well?" Meliodas asked.

Aiden’s eyes gleamed with the quiet satisfaction of a man who had just set a dozen fires in motion. "It’s done," he said. "They’ll start to talk. That’s all I need."

Meliodas hesitated. "You’re playing a dangerous game, Aiden. The Earl—"

"The Earl has already chosen his grave," Aiden said, cutting him off. "I’m just deciding what flowers to plant over it."

He started walking, the faint echo of his boots on stone following him down the corridor. Behind him, Meliodas called softly, "What did you tell them?"

Aiden didn’t look back. "The truth," he said. "Or something close enough to it."

[Brienne is being charmed]

[Maerwyn is being charmed]

[Cirelle is being charmed]