Chapter 322: Probing Information

The heavy oak doors of the chamber clicked shut with a soft, final sound that echoed in the sudden, thick silence. It wasn’t a loud noise, but to Lin Ruoli, it sounded like the locking of a vault. The air, which had been charged with the sharp energy of a high-stakes negotiation, instantly grew heavier, more intimate, and a thousand times more dangerous. She was trapped.

Alaric dismissed the previous tension with a charming, predatory smile that didn’t quite reach his ruby eyes. He gestured with a casual, almost lazy, wave of his hand towards the chair she had just vacated.

“Please, Guildmaster, don’t let my rude interruption spoil this budding partnership,” he said, his voice a smooth, silken purr that made the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. “We were just getting to the interesting part.”

Lin Ruoli’s mind, a razor-sharp instrument honed by years of navigating treacherous commercial and political waters, was screaming at her. Every instinct for self-preservation told her to get out, to run. But the silent, lethal shadow by the door and the two beautiful, terrifyingly powerful women standing behind him were as much a part of the cage as the walls themselves. She had no choice.

She forced a smile, a perfect, professional mask of calm composure that felt as fragile as glass. “Of course, Lord Steele. Where were we?”

She sat back down, her movements a study in practiced grace, a stark contrast to the frantic, panicked bird that was beating its wings against the inside of her ribs.

Alaric settled back into his own chair, not like a lord holding court, but like a lion settling down to play with its food. He initiated the “business talk,” but his gaze was a physical weight, a tangible thing that immediately settled on the swell of her breasts, so artfully displayed by the cut of her sapphire gown. He wasn’t being subtle. He wasn’t even trying. His eyes were practically glued to her, his leering open, casual, and utterly dismissive of her status, her intelligence, or her will.

“So,” he began, his voice a low, conversational hum. “Your guild is one of the top three in the Empire, I hear. That’s quite the accomplishment.” His eyes roamed over her, and she felt like a prize mare being appraised at an auction. “Tell me, how many merchant vessels do you command? And are they magically protected?”

’He’s not asking about trade,’ she thought, a cold sweat prickling the back of her neck. ’He’s asking for naval strength. Military intelligence.’

She forced her training to the forefront, her voice emerging as a smooth, professional tool. “The Jade Serpent commands a fleet of over five hundred vessels, Lord Steele. And yes, they are all warded by the Empire’s finest array masters. A necessary precaution in these trying times.”

She immediately went on the offensive, trying to seize control of the conversation. “Now, if I may, your energy rifles… their power source is fascinating. Is it a crystalline matrix or some form of alchemical battery?”

Alaric’s smile widened, a flash of white teeth in the dim light. His eyes hadn’t moved from her chest. “A little of both,” he said, his voice a vague, dismissive wave of the hand. “A trade secret, you understand. Like the exact patrol routes your fleet takes to avoid pirates, I imagine.”

The casual way he equated a state secret with a simple trade route was a deliberate, calculated insult. He was telling her he knew exactly what she was doing, and he was not impressed.

Lin Ruoli felt a flicker of genuine anger but smothered it beneath her professional mask. “Of course. Your personal shields are equally impressive. Are they a scaled-down version of your fortress’s main defense array, or a wholly different technology?”

He answered her, but she barely heard the words. It was more vague nonsense, more charming deflections. His eyes had moved, tracing the elegant curve of her hips, the flare of her buttocks as she sat in the chair. He was mentally undressing her, and he was making sure she knew it.

This wasn’t a negotiation. It was an appraisal. And she was the one being appraised, her value being calculated not in terms of gold or goods, but in terms of the information that could be squeezed from her and the pleasure her body might provide.

’He’s not even trying to be subtle,’ she thought, her mind reeling. ’This is a pure power play. He’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying making me squirm.’

Throughout this veiled, one-sided interrogation, the other three women in the room remained completely, utterly silent. The elegant one, Ondine, watched with a cool, detached amusement, like a queen watching a court jester’s performance. The voluptuous blonde, Priscilla, had an expression of pure, academic curiosity, as if she were observing a fascinating, but ultimately insignificant, new species of insect. And the dark-haired one, Zylle, was a statue carved from shadow and death, her presence a constant, chilling reminder of the cage’s lethality. They were beautiful, silent judges at an inquisition she had no hope of winning.

The conversation, if it could be called that, shifted. Alaric leaned forward, a flicker of genuine, predatory interest in his eyes. He was bored with talking about ships and shields. He wanted to talk about something more… personal.

“I understand you are wed to the esteemed General Bao,” he said, his voice a low, intimate purr. “A powerful man. A true pillar of the Empire.”

He paused, his gaze intensifying. “How many legions does a General of his standing command? Fifty thousand men? A hundred thousand?”

The question was a dagger, aimed directly at the heart of her loyalty. To answer would be treason.

Lin Ruoli felt a fresh wave of cold sweat. ’He’s probing for military strength, for the core of the Empire’s power. He’s asking me to betray my husband, my nation.’

“General Bao is a loyal servant of the Emperor,” she replied, her voice a carefully constructed wall of ice. “His strength is a pillar of the Empire. The exact disposition of our armies is a state secret, as I’m sure the number of Archmages you have at your disposal is to you.”

It was a good deflection. A textbook parry. But it was not enough.

She needed to change the dynamic, to seize the initiative. She leaned forward slightly, a deliberate, calculated movement that deepened the shadow of her cleavage, making the pale, soft swell of her breasts even more prominent. She had used this tactic a thousand times, on a thousand arrogant, lustful men. It almost always worked.

’Let’s see if raw, simple lust can cloud his brilliant, ruthless judgment,’ she thought, a desperate, strategic gamble.

“But your own genius is the true marvel, Lord Steele,” she purred, her voice a silken caress. “Were you formally trained at a mage academy, or is this brilliance entirely self-taught? A man of your… appetites… must have had many beautiful tutors.”

She was flattering him, pandering to his ego, offering a subtle, tantalizing hint of her own availability.

Alaric chuckled, a low, appreciative sound. His eyes, which had been fixed on her face, dropped back down to her chest, his gaze as hot and heavy as a physical touch.

“I’m a keen observer, Lady Ruoli,” he said, his voice a low, amused rumble. “I learn what I need to. And I take what I want.”

His gaze slowly, deliberately, roamed over her entire body, from her perfectly styled hair, down to the curve of her calves.

“You, for instance,” he continued, his smile widening into a wicked, predatory grin, “have a magnificent… business acumen.”

The blatant, insulting objectification was like a slap in the face. He had taken her best weapon, her beauty, her carefully constructed allure, and turned it into a crude, dismissive joke.

She had to fight to keep the professional smile plastered on her face, to stop her hands from trembling with a mixture of rage and a burgeoning, terrifying fear.

She realized, with a sickening lurch in her stomach, that he was completely, utterly immune to her subtle seductions. He saw them, he acknowledged them, he even seemed to enjoy them. But they had absolutely no effect on his judgment. He simply took what he wanted visually, without giving a single, solitary thing in return.

’He’s not just a dragon,’ she thought, a wave of pure panic washing over her. ’He’s a dragon who thinks he already owns the entire hoard. He’s not trying to bargain for the jewels; he’s just counting them before he locks them away.’

She tried to shift the topic again, to find a weakness, a chink in his arrogant, impenetrable armor. She tried a personal angle.

“A man like you must have many consorts,” she said, her voice a little too bright, a little too forced. “Do you prefer blondes, like the lovely Archmage Priscilla? Or perhaps you have a taste for the exotic?”

She was offering herself up, trying to categorize herself as a potential prize, hoping to gain some leverage.

He just smiled, a slow, lazy expression that held a universe of contempt.

“I prefer… talent.”

The words were a cold, hard shutdown. He wasn’t interested in her as a woman, as a potential conquest to be wooed. He was interested in her as an asset, a tool. Her talent. And he was currently in the process of assessing its value.

The conversation had reached a dead end. He knew she was hiding things, and she now knew, with a terrifying, absolute certainty, that he was utterly untouchable by her methods. Her beauty, her intelligence, her charm… they were all useless against a man who simply did not care.

Alaric leaned forward again, the charming mask dropping away, replaced by the cold, hard face of an interrogator. His questions became a rapid-fire assault, each one a sharp, probing blade aimed at the heart of her Empire’s secrets.

“Tell me about your Empire’s array formations,” he began, his voice a flat, demanding tone. “Not for ships, for cities. The defensive grids. Are they powered by spirit stones? Or by a central, arcane core, like the one in my own fortress?”

’He’s asking for the schematics to our national defense,’ she thought, her mind reeling. ’This is treason of the highest order.’

“Our array masters are artisans,” she deflected, her voice a little shaky. “Their methods are as varied as the stars. Much like your own artificers, I’d imagine. I am but a humble merchant; such esoteric matters are far beyond me.”

“Don’t lie to me, Lady Ruoli,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Your guild is responsible for supplying the very spirit stones that power those arrays. You know their consumption rates. You know their locations. You know their weaknesses.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He moved on, his next question even more dangerous.

“And the political factions? I hear your husband, the good General Bao, is an expansionist. Who are his main rivals in court? The traditionalist High Minister Chen Bo? One of the ambitious Princes?”

The ice in her veins was no longer a metaphor. She felt a genuine, physical chill spread through her body. He was asking her to map out the internal power structure of the Imperial court, to hand him the keys to its every weakness.

“The Empire is a harmonious whole under the divine rule of the Dragon Emperor, Lord Steele,” she said, the words a blatant, textbook lie that sounded hollow and pathetic even to her own ears.

She knew she couldn’t answer these questions. To do so would be to sign not only her own death warrant, but the death warrant of her entire clan, of her husband.

She was trapped. Cornered. Her every defensive gambit had been shattered. She had only one card left to play. It was a desperate, all-or-nothing move. Overt seduction.

She rose from her chair, her movements slow, deliberate, a liquid, sensual dance. She walked around the table, her hips swaying with a hypnotic, mesmerizing rhythm. She stopped beside him, her thigh brushing against his arm.

“You are deflecting, Lord Steele,” she purred, her voice a low, throaty whisper that had made lesser men tremble. “My offer of the martial arts techniques is genuine. And to prove it… what if I were to offer you, personally, a private lesson in Qi cultivation?”

She leaned down, her magnificent breasts pressing against his shoulder, her warm, fragrant breath caressing his ear.

“It can greatly enhance a man’s… stamina.”

It was her final, desperate gamble. She was offering him a state secret, and her own body, in one tantalizing package.

Alaric didn’t move. He didn’t even seem to breathe.

Then, he let out a laugh.

It was not a chuckle of appreciation. It was a full, rich, and utterly contemptuous laugh of pure, unadulterated amusement.

He leaned back in his chair, looking up at her, his ruby eyes dancing with a cruel, mocking light.

“An enticing offer, Lady Ruoli,” he said, his voice laced with a derisive humor. “Truly. But I prefer to be the teacher, not the student.”

The rejection was absolute. The dismissal, complete.

The conversation had hit a wall of solid, unyielding steel. She was spent. Every trick, every gambit, every weapon in her considerable arsenal had been tried, and had failed.

She saw it then, with a horrifying, soul-crushing clarity. He didn’t want to be seduced. He didn’t want to be charmed. He didn’t want to be persuaded.

He wanted to conquer.

’This is useless,’ she thought, a wave of pure, hopeless despair washing over her. ’I can’t get anything from him, and he’s trying to strip-mine my Empire’s secrets through sheer, brutal intimidation.’

She had come to this meeting to weave a golden cage for a firefly. And she had found herself trapped in an iron one with a hungry, laughing dragon.