Chapter 247 Alaric’s Conditions For Bellerose Clan

The arduous journey west, across the scarred and bleeding lands of what was once Eloriath, finally brought Kenneth, Archmage Lilliana Valtor, and their small escort of young mages to their destination. The air itself seemed to change as they approached the rumored borders of the Steele territory – a subtle shift, a feeling of oppressive demonic energy receding, replaced by a clean, almost sterile sense of order.

Then, they saw it. Not a wall of stone or wood, but a shimmering, almost invisible curtain of pure energy that stretched as far as the eye could see, pulsing with intricate, incomprehensible runes. The legendary Steele Family defensive barrier.

“By the Archons,” one of the younger mages breathed, awestruck. “It’s real. And it feels… impenetrable.”

Kenneth felt a knot of apprehension tighten in his stomach. This barrier was a physical manifestation of Alaric Steele’s power, a power that had once crushed him utterly. ‘He built this? That arrogant bastard…’

Lilliana Valtor, however, observed the barrier with a different kind of awe – that of a master artisan appreciating a work of unparalleled genius. Her Archmage senses hummed, analyzing the complex energy flows, the layered defenses, the sheer stability of the construct.

“Remarkable,” she murmured, genuine admiration in her voice. “The theoretical principles underpinning this… they are beyond anything currently taught. Alaric always did possess an unorthodox brilliance.”

Kenneth scowled inwardly. ‘Brilliance my foot. He’s just lucky. And ruthless.’

As they approached the barrier, a section shimmered and dissolved smoothly, revealing a clear path inward. No challenge, no demand for identification. It was as if their arrival was expected.

‘He knows we’re here,’ Kenneth thought, a chill running down his spine. ‘How?’

Standing just inside the opening, flanked by a pair of impassive, heavily armed Steele guards whose Battle Auras pulsed with disciplined strength, was Alaric Steele himself.

He looked different from the academy student Kenneth remembered. Taller, broader, his features sharper, more defined. His ruby eyes, cold and assessing, held an unnerving depth. He wore simple but expensive dark clothing that couldn’t conceal the lean power of his physique. He radiated an aura of calm, absolute confidence that made Kenneth instinctively bristle.

Alaric’s gaze swept over the arriving group. It lingered for a moment on Lilliana, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes – respect? Amusement? Then it settled on Kenneth.

And Alaric almost smirked.

‘Well, well, well,’ Alaric thought, a familiar sense of amusement, tinged with predatory interest, stirring within him. ‘Look what the cat dragged in. Kenneth. Still as puffed up and insignificant as ever. And with my dear Professor Valtor in tow. How… convenient.’

He knew, of course, about Kenneth. Saintess Ceanna, with her unique ability to sense the ‘discordant resonance’ of other Systems – though she couldn’t identify their specific nature – had alerted him to Kenneth’s presence among the Eloriath survivors in Jorailia. A transmigrator, like Noah in the north. Another pawn on the board, perhaps even a rival, though Alaric hadn’t deigned to consider him a serious threat. Just an annoyance, a gnat to be swatted or, more amusingly, manipulated. He particularly enjoyed the memory of effortlessly seducing the women Kenneth had fancied back at Verdant Dawn. Tormenting him was a delightful pastime.

“Professor Lilliana Valtor,” Alaric greeted, his voice smooth and cordial, stepping forward with an easy grace. He offered a polite, respectful bow. “It has been far too long. You look as radiant as ever, despite the hardships.”

Lilliana returned the smile, genuinely pleased to see him. “Alaric. It is good to see you alive and… clearly thriving.” Her gaze swept over him, taking in the subtle but undeniable signs of his increased power and authority. “Your reputation precedes you. This barrier…” she gestured towards the shimmering energy field, “is a masterpiece.”

“One does what one must to protect one’s home, Professor,” Alaric replied modestly, though his eyes gleamed. He then turned his attention to Kenneth, his smile becoming slightly more strained, almost patronizing.

“And Kenneth,” Alaric said, his tone carrying a faint, almost imperceptible mockery. “Fancy meeting you here. I trust your journey from Jorailia wasn’t too… taxing?”

Kenneth forced a polite smile, though he felt his blood boil at Alaric’s condescending tone. “Lord Steele. The journey was… manageable. We bring greetings from Lysandra.” He tried to project an air of confidence, of equal standing, but Alaric’s mere presence seemed to diminish him.

“Indeed,” Alaric said, his gaze sweeping over Kenneth’s escort of young mages. “A rather… modest delegation. Please, come in. The road has been long, I imagine.” He gestured them through the opening in the barrier, which shimmered closed behind them once they were inside.

They were led to a comfortable, if not overly opulent, reception hall within the main Steele manor. Refreshments were served. Alaric seated himself, with Lilliana on his right, while Kenneth, feeling increasingly out of his depth, stood slightly awkwardly.

“So,” Alaric began, after the initial pleasantries, turning his attention pointedly towards Kenneth. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Surely not just a social call from a former… classmate?” The slight emphasis on ‘classmate’ was another subtle jab.

Kenneth took a deep breath, steeling himself. This was it. He had to make the proposal. He expected ridicule, outright refusal.

“Lord Steele,” Kenneth began formally, trying to sound important. “I come not just on my own behalf, but as an emissary. I represent the interests of the esteemed Bellerose Clan of Jorailia, specifically under the auspices of Lady Ondine Bellerose.” He hoped dropping Ondine’s name would lend him some gravitas.

Alaric raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine surprise this time. ‘Ondine Bellerose? That cunning little fox. So, Kenneth is her errand boy now? This is richer than I thought.’ His internal surveillance network had flagged Ondine as a rising power player within Jorailia, ambitious and manipulative. He hadn’t connected her to Kenneth directly until now.

“Lady Ondine Bellerose,” Alaric repeated, his tone thoughtful. “A prominent figure. And what does the good Lady, or her clan, desire from the humble Steele Family?”

Kenneth launched into his rehearsed speech, outlining Lady Ondine’s ‘request’. He spoke of the Bellerose Clan’s need for advanced artifacts to secure their holdings, to protect their people (and their newly acquired Eloriath territories), and, he added with a slight tremor in his voice, “certain… specialized tools. Artifacts that might prove effective not only against demonic threats, but also… against other, more conventional adversaries. Mages. Martialists.”

He braced himself for Alaric’s scornful laughter, for the immediate rejection. Requesting weapons effective against humans, from Alaric Steele? It was ludicrous.

Lilliana listened with a deepening frown. This was the first she was hearing about ‘anti-human’ artifacts. Kenneth had framed the mission as seeking advanced defensive tools against demons. ‘Specialized tools against conventional adversaries? What is Ondine Bellerose truly planning? And why wasn’t I informed of this specific request, Kenneth?’ Her gaze on Kenneth sharpened with disapproval.

Kenneth felt Lilliana’s displeasure and inwardly cursed. ‘Damn it, Ondine! Why did you have to make it sound so… hostile?’

To Kenneth’s utter astonishment, Alaric didn’t laugh. He didn’t scowl. He listened patiently, his expression unreadable, his ruby eyes fixed on Kenneth.

When Kenneth finally finished, stammering slightly under Alaric’s intense gaze and Lilliana’s disapproving stare, a long silence filled the room.

‘He’s going to tear me apart,’ Kenneth thought miserably. ‘He’s going to humiliate me in front of Lilliana, then throw us out.’

Then, Alaric spoke, his voice surprisingly calm. “An interesting proposal, Kenneth. The Bellerose Clan seeks to arm itself not just against demons, but against… potential rivals. A pragmatic approach, in these uncertain times.”

He leaned back in his chair. “And what does the Bellerose Clan, through Lady Ondine, offer in return for such… specialized consideration?”

Kenneth, caught off guard by Alaric’s lack of immediate hostility, quickly outlined the offered compensation: access to rare Jorailian resources, strategic landholdings within Jorailia’s new Eloriath territories (conveniently bordering Steele lands, Alaric noted), a percentage of revenue from those territories, and a contingent of trained Jorailian manpower – mages and soldiers – to be placed at the Steele Family’s disposal.

It was a substantial offer, Kenneth had to admit. Ondine had clearly authorized him to be generous.

Alaric listened, nodding slowly. ‘Resources, land, revenue, manpower… and an influential ally within Jorailia. Ondine is ambitious indeed. She’s willing to pay a high price for tools that will help her consolidate her own power.’

“A generous offer,” Alaric acknowledged. He looked at Kenneth, a faint, unreadable smile playing on his lips. “And contrary to what you might be expecting, Kenneth, I am… inclined to accept.”

Kenneth blinked. “You… you are?” He couldn’t believe his ears.

Lilliana also looked surprised. “Alaric, these are… potent tools you develop. Sharing them so readily, especially those effective against humans…”

“The world is changing, Professor,” Alaric said smoothly, turning to her. “Old alliances crumble, new powers rise. Pragmatism dictates we adapt. The Bellerose Clan could be a useful… partner… in the east. And their offered resources are not insignificant.”

He turned back to Kenneth. “However. My acceptance comes with two non-negotiable conditions.”

Kenneth held his breath. ‘Here it comes. The catch.’

“Firstly,” Alaric stated, his gaze unwavering, “this deal, especially concerning the more… sensitive… artifacts, requires a personal touch. I will not finalize such an arrangement through an intermediary, no matter how… enthusiastic,” he gave Kenneth a pointed look. “I will meet with Lady Ondine Bellerose myself. Here, in my territory. She will come to me to discuss the specifics and seal the agreement.”

‘He wants to meet Ondine?’ Kenneth’s mind raced. ‘Why? To assess her? To charm her himself?’ A pang of jealousy, quickly suppressed, shot through him. But Ondine had made it clear she wanted these artifacts. She would likely agree to a meeting if it meant getting them.

“And secondly,” Alaric continued, his gaze shifting to Lilliana, his expression softening slightly, becoming more respectful. “Professor Valtor. Your presence here is a welcome reminder of your formidable capabilities. My family, indeed this entire region, faces constant threats. Should a situation arise where your unique expertise, your Archmage-level power, is critically needed by the Steele Family, I expect you to answer our call. To come to our aid.”

He paused, then added, “To facilitate this, I will provide you with one of our… emergency extraction artifacts. A recall anchor. It will allow you instantaneous return to this manor, should the need be dire. Consider it both a tool for our mutual security and a symbol of our… understanding.”

Lilliana was taken aback. He was asking for her personal commitment, her power on call, in exchange for this trade? But the offer of a recall anchor… it was an incredible boon, a lifeline for her and her students should Jorailia become unsafe.

“That is… a significant condition, Alaric,” Lilliana said slowly. “Binding my aid to your family’s needs.”

“These are significant times, Professor,” Alaric countered gently. “And the artifacts Lady Bellerose seeks are significantly potent. A measure of reciprocal commitment seems… appropriate.”

Kenneth felt a surge of panic. He couldn’t agree to these conditions on behalf of Ondine or Lilliana. “Lord Steele, I… I lack the authority to accept such terms immediately. I must convey them to Lady Bellerose. And Professor Valtor must consider your request herself.”

“Naturally,” Alaric said smoothly. “I would expect nothing less. Discuss it. Send word of your decision via your Phone artifact – I assume Lady Bellerose possesses one of my humble inventions?” He knew she did; his surveillance confirmed it.

He rose, signaling the end of the meeting. “For now, you and your escort are my guests. Rest here for the night. My servants will see to your comfort. You may depart in the morning with my terms. I await Lady Bellerose’s… and Professor Valtor’s… considered response.”

He gave Lilliana a warm, respectful nod, and Kenneth a dismissive glance, before striding from the room, leaving them to digest his unexpected acceptance and his demanding conditions.

‘He accepted!’ Kenneth thought, a strange mix of relief and unease swirling within him. ‘But those conditions… Meeting Ondine personally? Making Lilliana his personal emergency Archmage? He’s trying to insert himself, control them!’ Yet, the allure of Ondine’s promised rewards, the thought of finally gaining her favor, pushed his doubts aside. ‘I’ll tell Ondine. She’s smart. She’ll know how to handle Alaric.’

Lilliana, meanwhile, was deep in thought. Alaric’s conditions were bold. Meeting Ondine made sense for a deal of this magnitude. But his request for her personal aid, tied to a teleportation artifact… It was a significant entanglement. Yet, the safety net it offered was undeniable. And Alaric… he had changed. He was no longer just a brilliant student; he was a power player, shaping events.

Later that evening, after Kenneth had retired to his assigned chambers, likely to fret over how to present Alaric’s terms to Ondine, Lilliana found herself restless. She wandered the guest wing, her mind replaying the meeting. Alaric’s confidence, his strategic acumen, the sheer power he now wielded…

A soft knock came at her door. She opened it to find Alaric standing there, alone.

“Professor,” he greeted her, his smile genuine this time, the predatory edge softened. “May I have a word? In private?”

Lilliana hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Of course, Alaric. Come in.”

He entered her modestly appointed guest chamber. It felt strange, having her former student, now a formidable lord, in such a private setting.

“I apologize if my conditions seemed… abrupt earlier, Professor,” Alaric began, his tone sincere. “But the stakes are high.”

“They are indeed, Alaric,” Lilliana acknowledged, gesturing for him to sit, though he remained standing. “Your family has carved out a remarkable sanctuary here.”

“We do what we can,” he replied. He looked at her, his ruby eyes filled with a warmth she hadn’t seen since his academy days. “But my main concern, Professor, was for you. And your students. Are you truly well in Jorailia? Is King Rouben Yachvili treating you fairly? Or are you merely… tolerated assets?”

Lilliana was touched by his apparent concern. “King Rouben Yachvili has been… surprisingly accommodating, Alaric. He provides for us, utilizes our skills, yes, but he has not been unduly demanding. Lysandra is secure, for now. The students are safe, continuing their training. It is… a stable arrangement.”

“But is it a permanent one?” Alaric pressed gently. “Jorailia expands, true. But its king is ambitious, its nobles grasping. What happens when your usefulness wanes, Professor? Or when a more convenient political alliance presents itself?”

He stepped closer. “The Steele Family’s gates, Professor, are always open to you. To all the surviving students of Verdant Dawn you can gather. We have resources, space, security. You would not be mere assets here; you would be valued members of a growing power, with autonomy to rebuild, to teach, under my protection.”

His offer was genuine, she sensed. And incredibly tempting. The thought of a true home, a place to rebuild her shattered academy, to nurture the next generation of Eloriath’s mages, under the shield of Alaric’s power…

“That is… an extraordinarily generous offer, Alaric,” Lilliana said, her voice slightly husky. “And I am deeply grateful for your consideration. Truly.” She met his gaze. “For now, Jorailia offers us stability. But should that change… I will remember your words. And I will not hesitate to seek your sanctuary.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Alaric said, his smile warm. “My offer stands, always.” He paused, then a familiar, almost boyish twinkle entered his eyes, reminiscent of the challenging student he once was. “Now, Professor, on a less… weighty topic. All this talk of artifacts, defenses, politics… it makes me wonder. Have you been keeping up with your own elemental mastery amidst all this chaos? Or has the burden of leadership dulled those legendary Archmage reflexes?”

Lilliana laughed, a genuine, surprisingly light sound. The tension eased. This was the Alaric she remembered – brilliant, a little arrogant, always pushing boundaries.

“Dull, Alaric?” she countered, a playful glint in her own eyes. “I assure you, fending off demons and managing a cohort of traumatized noble brats keeps one’s reflexes quite sharp.”

Alaric grinned. “Is that so, Professor?” He tilted his head. “Perhaps you’d care to… demonstrate? It’s been years since I had the privilege of witnessing your elemental prowess firsthand. A little spar, perhaps? For old times’ sake? To see if the student has learned anything new that might surprise the teacher?”

Lilliana felt a spark of her old competitive spirit ignite. A spar with Alaric? The thought was… intriguing. He was a Grandmaster now, clearly powerful. But she was still an Archmage, a master of elements. It would be… interesting to test him, to see how far he had truly come.

“A spar, Alaric?” she repeated, a smile playing on her lips. “Are you sure you’re ready for that? I wouldn’t want to embarrass my most promising former student in his own home.”

“I’m willing to risk it, Professor,” Alaric replied, his eyes dancing with challenge. “Unless, of course, you are hesitant?”

Lilliana laughed again. “Hesitant? Alaric Steele, you always did know how to push my buttons.” She stood up, a newfound energy thrumming through her. “Very well, Young Master Steele. A spar it is. Let’s see if your artifact-crafting has left you any time for actual spellcasting.”

“Excellent,” Alaric beamed, offering his arm with a flourish. “The main training field should suffice. I believe the moon is bright enough tonight for us to see each other… struggle.”

Lilliana took his arm, a thrill of anticipation, both professional and something else, something nostalgic and surprisingly warm, running through her. The night was young, and an old student-teacher rivalry was about to be rekindled under the watchful eyes of the Steele family’s impenetrable barrier.