Ruined In My Hands.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon as Velmore's grand carriage pulled out of the Guild. The four new slaves were tied to the carriage and had to run to make sure they were not trampled by the other carriages following them. They were young, quiet, and well-built for the task yet they struggled with the increasing speed and rush of the peek hours.

The wheels clattered over cobblestone, echoing like drums of victory in Velmore's ears as he watched those men struggling.

He sat back against the velvet-lined seat with his arms crossed and his eyes gleaming. The scent of spiced wine still lingered in his breath, and he could almost hear the whispers of the crowd even now:

"Lord Velmore is back." "He bet his gold vault!" "Crestford won't last a week."

He grinned, recalling the stunned faces, the awe, the desperate flattery of the same people who had once turned away. But as the city streets passed in a blur, the grin slowly began to fade.

His mind rewound the moment the old woman had spoken, the way she had looked at him. It was not with fear or awe, but with amusement. Her voice rang louder now than it had then,

"Crestford had defeated you once and taken half of your properties. What made you think that you can win this time?" her condescending voice echoed in his ears, boiling his blood.

Velmore's fingers drummed against his knee. He had no proof, no letters, no solid evidence that Elias was dabbling with witchcraft. Or else he would have thrown them on that woman's face and told her, "Elias is not powerful, he is just a coward using external powers and cheating."

But he had nothing for now except whispers, Innuendo. His own instincts, sharpened by decades of power but now dulled by desperation.

What if he had overplayed his hand? No, he had to find them before Elias could flip the situation again.

The gates of House Velmore creaked open, and the guards stiffened as the carriage rolled through. The steward was already at the steps, bowing low as Velmore stepped down with his cane tapping against the stone.

"Did any reply come?" Velmore asked as he looked around. His voice was calm but heavy.

The steward blinked. "M-My lord?"

"The letter we sent to the informant," Velmore snapped and glared at his foolish servant "Has he responded?"

The steward paled slightly. "It has only been half a day, my lord. We are unsure if the letter has even reached him yet. It usually takes two to three days. And we should not forget that he is working for enemies. If he would hurry and get caught, we could be in trouble, my lord."

Velmore's hand slammed down on his cane.

"I did not ask what is usual, I asked if you received a reply!"

The steward flinched, his mouth working for words. "N-No, my lord. Not yet."

Velmore's eyes narrowed, lips curling into a sneer. "If I do not have a letter in my hands by tomorrow morning, I will skin that slave myself and you will be next if you fail to keep him in line. I don't pay to be kept waiting."

"Yes, my lord," the steward whispered, bowing hastily and backing away.

Velmore turned sharply. "Take the new slaves for training. I want them ready to work by next week."

"Yes, my lord!" the steward repeated, already hurrying to the carriage.

Velmore took a deep breath. The estate grounds were quiet. It usually soothed him, but today the silence fed his unease.

"Where's Cladria?" he asked suddenly.

The steward, halfway to the slaves, stopped. "She left earlier, my lord. Said she was going to the market."

Velmore raised an eyebrow.

"The market?" he echoed. Then, slowly, a low chuckle rumbled from his throat. "Hah… That is my daughter. She is not the one to waste time. She would surely bring good news for me."

He turned and walked up the steps with a renewed sense of satisfaction.

"She takes after me," he said under his breath, smirking. "Good. She will need that if she is going to inherit what I rebuild."

But even as he disappeared into the manor, the thoughts still gnawed at the back of his mind:

"What if I can't rebuild it? What if Elias truly has something I don't see?"

Velmore shook his head and poured himself a drink. He wouldn't allow doubt. Not now. Not when the stakes were gold and glory. But still, he would need that letter. He had never felt that sense of unease before. He picked up the bottle of wine and poured himself a drink. One then another and then another. It followed until the bottle was empty and his eyes were colluded.

"My lord.. My lord." he frowned when his steward called him again and again. 

He kept leaning on his chair with his eyes closed when the footsteps came closer.

"My lord, we have finally received a letter." the voice snapped his eyes open. Though he had demanded it, he knew that it was not possible. He stared at the folded paper with strange anticipation.

The steward noticed it and opened it and started reading.

"My lord, though it will be putting my life in danger. I can bring you the sigil Elias had used to dab his hands in dark magic. And I can be your witness too. But in exchange for that I need a lot of wealth and safety for my family. If you agree to my conditions, burn a tree in your estate. I will believe it if I see fire and then wait for you to start a trial." Lord Velmore took the letter from the steward and read it again. Though he frowned that his own slave was stating conditions with him. But it did not matter anymore.

"I was only hoping for a letter but there is a sigil!" his eyes burnt with joy. "Ha! Hahaha! Elias, oh Elias, you are going to be ruined in my hands."