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Angelfall, Circeville, and the southern cities glowed gold along the lower edge of the map, neat little lights pretending distance made them safe.
Alphus tapped one finger against the projection. “With Hollowside absorbed and the northern corridors under your command, you now control the largest connected territory in Valkyrie.”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s been wonderful for morale.”
Vale stood at my right with the expression of a man praying I developed diplomacy before dessert.
Lady Marrow of Circeville smiled thinly. “The South needs promises.”
“No.”
Her smile vanished.
Alphus’s eyes narrowed. “No?”
“No promises. No guarantees. No protected passage without oversight.” I leaned back in my chair. “The roads are mine. The freight gates are mine. If the southern cities want access, they accept New Abaddon supervision at every major route.”
The room cooled.
Polite conquest was much cleaner than war.
Alphus’s jaw flexed. “You want authority over southern commerce.”
“I want stability.”
“You want leverage.”
“I admire your vocabulary.”
Lady Marrow’s nails clicked once against the table. “Angelfall and Circeville will not hand their city gates to you just because you took Hollowside.”
“You aren’t handing them to me,” I said. “You’re welcoming my protection.”
“No one invited you.”
“Yet.”
The shadows beneath the table shifted.
Every lord went still.
I smiled beneath my mask. “I am offering the South a peaceful arrangement first. That is me being generous.”
Alphus’s gaze flicked to the map, then back to me. “And if we decline?”
“Then the next conversation will involve fewer chairs.”
Lovely thing, silence.
Vale cleared his throat softly. “Lord Draven’s proposal is simple. Southern freight remains open under New Abaddon inspection. Angelfall, Circeville, and the neighboring cities keep local rule. In exchange, border security, route taxation, and military passage fall under Lord Draven’s authority.”
Lady Marrow stared at him. “That’s not local rule. That is a leash.”
“Correct,” I said. “But I said it politely first.”
Alphus’s mouth tightened. “The South will resist.”
“The South will calculate. Then the South will remember what happened to Hollowside.” Rain struck the windows behind me, turning New Abaddon into black glass and red light.
