Chapter 90: Blackmailing Orion

The journey back to the Silver Ravens Guild stretched over four days, and for Alaric, it was a blissful reprieve from the chaos of wyverns, herbs, and dark cultivators. Whatever the Phantom Assembly was up to, he shoved those thoughts deep into the back of his mind. ’I’ll deal with them later,’ he thought lazily, his focus entirely consumed by the present—and, more specifically, by Rosalind.

She sat in front of him on their shared horse, her body nestled against his. The soft sway of her hips against him with every step of the horse was hypnotic, and Alaric wasn’t shy about letting his hands roam.

“Alaric…” Rosalind’s voice had that warning tone, but the way her body relaxed into his made it clear she wasn’t really protesting.

“Hmm?” Alaric murmured innocently, his fingers tracing over the curve of her waist before wandering upward to her chest. “Just making sure you don’t fall off, Rosie.”

“You’re shameless,” she muttered, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.

“Shamelessly in love,” he countered smoothly, letting his fingers linger on the soft swell of her breasts.

She swatted at him halfheartedly but didn’t stop him. In fact, over the next few days, she leaned into his touch more and more, her blushes deepening each time. The intimacy between them was electric, and Alaric savored every moment.

By the time they arrived at the Silver Ravens Guild’s main branch, both were in high spirits. They wasted no time heading straight to the alchemist’s wing, where the scent of herbs and potions hung thick in the air.

Orion was bent over a bubbling cauldron, his dark hair damp with sweat as he worked on some potion order. The sharp clang of their boots on the stone floor made him glance up, and his face lit up with forced cheerfulness.

“Alaric, Rosalind,” he greeted them, setting down his tools. “You’re back sooner than I expected.”

“We don’t waste time,” Alaric said casually, tossing his bag onto the counter with a heavy thud. “Got everything you need for the Mystic Rejuvenation Elixir. Let’s get to it.”

Orion’s eyes widened as he opened the bag and inspected the contents. The rare herbs, the crystals, the magical cores—it was all there, in pristine condition. His hand trembled slightly as he picked up the Emberroot Blossom, the vibrant red petals glowing faintly in his palm.

“This… this is incredible,” Orion muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “You actually managed to gather all of this in just a week?”

Rosalind crossed her arms, her tone light. “I told you Alaric is resourceful.”

Orion’s gaze flicked to her, and his jaw tightened when he noticed the faint blush on her cheeks. More damning was how her hand brushed Alaric’s arm almost absentmindedly, as though seeking his warmth.

His teeth ground together audibly. ’Why her? Why him?’ The jealousy burned hot and bitter in his chest.

“This is impressive,” Orion said finally, though his tone lacked its usual warmth. “But… I can’t make the elixir right now.”

Alaric raised an eyebrow, his tone dangerously calm. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I have other orders,” Orion replied quickly, gesturing vaguely to the shelves of potions and ingredients around him. “The guild has prioritized several high-level concoctions, and I’m swamped. A potion like the Mystic Rejuvenation Elixir—it’s not something you can just whip up. It takes time, precision, and a lot of energy.”

Rosalind frowned. “But Alaric gathered all the ingredients. Surely you can squeeze it into your schedule.”

Orion shook his head, his expression a mixture of regret and determination. “I’d love to help, truly, but the guild’s orders come first. And this elixir… it’s not exactly a priority for the guild.”

Alaric’s patience was wearing thin, though he kept his tone deceptively polite. “You’re the best alchemist here, Orion. No one else in the city can make this elixir. Are you saying I went through all that trouble for nothing?”

Orion hesitated, his jealousy flaring again as he glanced at Rosalind. The way she looked at Alaric, the way she stood just a little closer to him—it was infuriating.

“I’m not saying I won’t make it,” Orion said carefully. “Just… not right now. The guild’s orders have to come first, and this elixir is incredibly complex. Rushing it could ruin the ingredients, and I don’t think you’d want that.”

Rosalind opened her mouth to argue, but Alaric placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “I see,” he said slowly, his tone unreadable. He sighed, a long, exasperated sound that seemed to echo in the room. “Looks like we’ll have to wait, then.”

Orion relaxed slightly, thinking he’d managed to defuse the situation.

“Come on, Rosie,” Alaric said, turning toward the door. “Let’s not waste any more of Orion’s precious time.”

Rosalind frowned but followed him out of the alchemist’s wing. As soon as they were out of earshot, she grabbed his arm, her eyes blazing with frustration.

“What now?” she demanded. “Orion clearly isn’t going to make that elixir anytime soon. Do we just sit around and wait?”

Alaric’s lips curved into a wicked smile, his red eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, we’ll get our elixir,” he said, his voice low and confident.

Rosalind raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly are you planning to do that?”

Alaric chuckled, a dark, velvety sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Orion wants to play games? Fine. I’ll play too. But I always win.”

Rosalind crossed her arms, intrigued despite herself. “You’ve got a plan, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Alaric said smoothly. “We just need to remind Orion of his place—and give him a little… incentive to prioritize our elixir.”

“And what kind of ’incentive’ are we talking about?” Rosalind asked, narrowing her eyes.

Alaric leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Orion thinks he’s untouchable because he’s the guild’s best alchemist. But what if he suddenly found himself in a situation where his reputation—and his career—were on the line?”

Rosalind’s eyes widened. “You’re not seriously thinking of blackmailing him, are you?”

“Not blackmail,” Alaric corrected, a sly grin on his face. “Just… persuasion. Orion’s got secrets, just like everyone else. All we need to do is dig them up.”

Rosalind hesitated, biting her lip. “And if he doesn’t have any secrets worth exploiting?”

“Oh, he does,” Alaric said confidently. “Everyone does. And if I can’t find anything, I’ll make something up. Either way, Orion won’t have a choice but to give us what we want.”

Rosalind sighed, though there was a reluctant smile on her lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you love it,” Alaric replied, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Now, let’s get to work. We’ve got an elixir to collect.”

Rosalind rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away as he led her down the hallway, his mind already racing with plans for how to deal with Orion. Whatever it took, Alaric would get what he wanted.

~~

Sure! Here’s a rewrite of your scene, expanded with more details, casual language, and engaging dialogues:

—

The investigation into Orion’s life was proving to be far more difficult than Alaric had expected. For days, he and Rosalind asked around the guild, making subtle inquiries about Orion’s habits, his past, and any rumors that might paint him in a less-than-flattering light. But the results were frustratingly consistent—Orion’s reputation was spotless.

“Damn it,” Alaric muttered, slumping back in his chair at the dimly lit tavern they’d been using as their unofficial base of operations. “This guy is too good to be true. No gambling debts, no questionable relationships, no skeletons in his closet. Nothing.”

Rosalind, seated across from him, sipped her ale with a wry smile. “Maybe because there really isn’t anything. Some people are just… good, Alaric. Not everyone has a shadowy secret waiting to be unearthed.”

Alaric smirked, swirling his drink. “Good? No one’s *that* good. If he doesn’t have a past worth exploiting, then…” He leaned forward, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “We’ll have to make him a present.”

Rosalind raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking upward in a mixture of curiosity and concern. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” Alaric began, setting his glass down and gesturing animatedly, “Orion has a family, right? An old father and—” His lips twitched into a teasing grin. “—a ridiculously hot mother.”

“Alaric!” Rosalind exclaimed, her face reddening as she swatted his arm. “That’s completely inappropriate!”

He laughed, leaning back to dodge her swing. “What? I’m just making an observation. Anyway, if Orion won’t play ball for himself, maybe he will for them.”

Rosalind’s playful glare softened into something more serious. “You’re not actually thinking of involving his family, are you?”

“Why not?” Alaric said with a shrug, his expression deceptively nonchalant. “If I threaten them—just enough to get Orion moving—it’ll be over before anyone’s really in danger. A little pressure never hurt anyone.”

Rosalind hesitated, frowning. “And if it goes wrong?”

“It won’t,” he said, his voice dripping with confidence. “Trust me, Rosie. I’ve got this under control.”

The next day, while Orion busied himself with his work in the alchemy wing, Alaric put his plan into motion. Finding Orion’s house wasn’t difficult—he’d made a point to map out the residences of key guild members long ago. The modest home sat on the edge of the city, surrounded by a well-kept garden. Alaric approached quietly, casting a sleeping spell through the walls.

Inside, he found Orion’s parents. The father was frail, his face lined with age and worry, while the mother had a mature beauty. ’Well, I wasn’t wrong about that,’ Alaric thought with a smirk.

He worked quickly, binding the pair with magical restraints. Using a levitation spell, he made it appear as though they were walking beside him as he guided them to a warehouse he’d prepared earlier.

Meanwhile, Rosalind had her own part to play. She found Orion in the guild’s dining hall, hunched over a plate of food as he reviewed notes scribbled on a piece of parchment.

“Hey, Orion,” she greeted warmly, sliding into the seat across from him.

He looked up, startled, before offering a small smile. “Rosalind. What brings you here?”

“Oh, just thought you could use a break,” she said breezily. “You’ve been working nonstop, haven’t you?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, the guild’s orders are piling up. It’s exhausting, honestly.”

“Well, in that case,” Rosalind said, standing and tugging on his arm, “come have a drink with me. You deserve it.”

Orion blinked, flustered. “I—uh—really shouldn’t. I’ve got—”

“No excuses,” she interrupted, flashing him a dazzling smile. “Come on, just one drink. It’ll help you relax.”

Despite his hesitation, he couldn’t resist her charm. She led him to a quiet tavern in the warehouse district, chatting casually as they walked.

“You know, Orion,” she said, her tone light but pointed, “you really should reconsider making that elixir for Alaric. He’s not someone you want to cross.”

Orion scoffed. “He’s just a mage. What’s he going to do, glare me into submission?”

Rosalind chuckled, but there was a knowing edge to her smile. “You’d be surprised.”

When they reached the warehouse, Rosalind stopped in front of the heavy wooden door. “I have something to show you,” she said cryptically, pushing it open and gesturing for him to step inside.

Orion hesitated but followed her in. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the scene. His parents were bound to the wall, their heads slumped forward in unconsciousness but otherwise unharmed. Alaric stood in the center of the room, his expression calm and unbothered as he stirred the contents of a cauldron.

Rosalind walked straight to Alaric, slipping her arms around his waist. He greeted her with a kiss, his hands sliding down to squeeze her hips. “Well done, Rosie,” he murmured against her lips. “You brought him just like I asked.”

“Always happy to help,” she replied, her voice sweet as honey, though her eyes gleamed with something darker.

“What the hell is this?” Orion demanded, his voice shaking with a mix of fury and fear.

Alaric turned to him, his red eyes gleaming with amusement. “This, Orion, is your new workplace. You’re going to make that Mystic Rejuvenation Elixir for me. Right here. Right now.”

“You’ve lost your mind!” Orion spat. “You can’t do this! The guild will hear about it! You’ll be exiled—no, executed!”

Unfazed, Alaric strolled over to Orion’s father, lightly slapping the man’s cheek to rouse him. The older man groaned, his eyes fluttering open. “Shh,” Alaric said mockingly, “you’re safe as long as your son behaves.”

Orion’s breath hitched as he saw the blood trickling from his father’s lip. “Stop this,” he pleaded. “They have nothing to do with this!”

“Then do as I ask,” Alaric said coldly, stepping back. “Make the elixir, and they walk out of here unharmed. It’s as simple as that.”

Orion clenched his fists, his mind racing. He hated Alaric, hated the smug expression on his face, hated the way Rosalind leaned against him as though they were some power couple ruling the world. But he couldn’t risk his parents’ safety.

“Fine,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “I’ll make your damn elixir. But you’ll regret this, Alaric. I swear it.”

Alaric smirked, his gaze dropping to Rosalind as he pulled her closer. “I look forward to it.”

As Orion begrudgingly began setting up his equipment, Alaric turned his attention back to Rosalind. His hands wandered over her curves, squeezing her hips and sliding lower to grip her backside. “You know,” he murmured against her ear, “I think I’m starting to enjoy this a little too much.”

Rosalind chuckled, her voice low and teasing. “You think?”

He grinned, nipping at her neck. “Watching him squirm while we enjoy ourselves? It’s perfect.”

Orion’s hands trembled as he worked, his hatred for Alaric growing with every passing second. He stole glances at his parents, their frail forms slumped against the wall, and cursed himself for being powerless to stop this.

“Keep your focus, Orion,” Alaric called out mockingly. “I wouldn’t want you to mess up and waste all those precious ingredients.”

Rosalind leaned into Alaric, her lips brushing against his cheek. “You’re awful,” she whispered, though there was no trace of disapproval in her tone.

“And you love it,” he replied, his red eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

As the elixir began to take shape, the room filled with the pungent scent of magic and herbs. Alaric watched with an air of triumph, his grip on Rosalind never wavering.

This was power—getting exactly what he wanted, bending others to his will. And as he held Rosalind close, he knew there was nothing he couldn’t achieve.

For now, he let the simmering tensions lie, savoring the sweet taste of control. After all, the game had only just begun.