chapter 16.2

As Alcard prepared to leave Oldman's chamber, an unsettling feeling anchored his feet at the threshold. Something was unfinished. Something unresolved. His fingers curled slightly, his breath deep and steady as he turned around. With a determined stride, he walked back toward the wooden desk, his expression heavier than before.

"There's something else we need to discuss," he stated, his tone sharp, carrying a weight that indicated this was not just a passing complaint.

Oldman, who had been absorbed in the scattered documents before him, lifted his gaze with interest. He knew Alcard well enough—this was not a man who spoke without reason. "What happened?" His voice remained calm, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of wariness.

Alcard inhaled, holding his breath for a second before speaking. "Lord Tanivar," he said, his voice like tempered steel. "He's crossed a line he should have never dared to step over."

Oldman's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of recognition passing through them. "Go on," he commanded simply.

Without hesitation, Alcard recounted his encounter with the three outcasts from the eastern outpost—men who were supposed to be their brethren, but had been forced into battle against him by Tanivar's manipulations. He described how close they had come to spilling each other's blood, deceived into believing they were enemies. How, at the last moment, he had stopped the conflict by revealing the official letter from the central headquarter, proof that they had been used as pawns in Tanivar's game.

"Tanivar is using us," Alcard's voice grew sharper, frustration creeping into his words. "To him, the Outcasts are nothing more than cheap mercenaries, tools to be discarded when convenient. But it's worse than that—he nearly had us turn on each other. If we let this continue, it won't just cost us men. It will cost us our principles. The foundation of everything we've stood for."

Oldman listened intently, his fingers stroking the coarse beard on his chin—a habit Alcard recognized as a sign that he was deep in thought. "I've heard whispers of something like this," he admitted after a moment, his tone weighted with an underlying tension. "But nothing concrete enough to act on."

Alcard clenched his fists, frustration flaring in his chest. "I handed the letter to the eastern outpost's elders. I told them to deliver it personally. That letter is proof that Tanivar has overstepped his boundaries. He's interfering in our affairs recklessly."

For a long while, Oldman remained silent, his sharp gaze fixed on Alcard, as if trying to measure the full depth of his conviction. Then, slowly, he leaned back into his chair, folding his arms.

"And what do you propose we do?"

Alcard didn't hesitate. "Eliminate him." His voice was cold, resolute. "Tanivar is a threat. If we don't act now, he will only continue to tighten his grip. He's the kind of man who won't stop unless he's forced to."

The room was steeped in heavy silence. Oldman watched him, his face unreadable. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a slow breath. "You know as well as I do that Tanivar holds significant power in Middle Earth." His voice was steady, but there was a careful calculation in his words. "He's not just another greedy lord. He controls key trade routes, and more than that—he has allies among the other lords. If we make the wrong move, we could start a war we're not ready for."

Alcard stiffened. He had considered this, of course, but to him, the risk of letting Tanivar roam unchecked was far greater than the risk of provoking his allies. "Then what do you suggest?" His voice was taut with restrained anger. "We just let him keep stepping on us? Wait until it's too late?"

Oldman shook his head, his expression remaining composed but carrying an edge of understanding. "No," he said firmly. "But if we move against him, we need to be smart about it. We need something indisputable—something that even his allies can't defend him from."

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "If we act too soon, without undeniable evidence, we will be seen as the aggressors. And in our current position, that is a battle we cannot afford to fight."

Alcard's jaw tightened, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. He hated waiting. He hated watching threats fester while they still had the chance to be cut down. "So what? We just do nothing?"

Oldman's gaze sharpened, a steel-like resolve flashing in his aged eyes. "Of course not," he said coolly. "I'll have Tanivar watched closely. The moment he makes a mistake—one so blatant that it cannot be ignored—we will strike. And when we do, there will be no mercy."

The words hung in the air like a blade suspended over a traitor's neck.

The plan made sense. It was careful, calculated—exactly how Oldman had always operated. But to Alcard, every second wasted was another chance for Tanivar to tighten his hold, another opportunity for him to weave his web deeper into the Outcast ranks.

Still, he knew there was no point in pressing further. Oldman had made his decision. And while Alcard might not have liked it, he respected it.

Letting out a slow breath, he finally said, "Fine." Yet there was no mistaking the frustration simmering beneath his tone. "But don't take too long. Every day we waste is another step he takes toward solidifying his power."

Oldman gave him a small nod, before turning his attention back to the documents before him. "You did well, Alcard," he said, though his focus had already returned to his endless calculations and strategies. "Now, return to your post. Keep watch. We can't afford to be distracted by only one enemy when there are far greater threats lurking beyond The Wall."

Alcard nodded once before turning and striding out of the room. This time, he didn't hesitate at the doorway. His steps were firm, but his mind was heavier than ever. Tanivar's looming shadow, the mystery surrounding Arwen, the unsettling truths he had learned from Reinhard—everything felt like pieces of a puzzle he had yet to complete.

For now, he would wait.

And he hated waiting.

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