Zayn tapped his cheek absently, scanning the assembly with half-lidded eyes. The silence hung heavy in the hall, broken only by the labored breaths of elves regaining their senses.
He frowned and slowly turned his head toward the Matron, still clutching her throne as if afraid she'd collapse again. He stared at her for a few seconds, then tilted his head.
"So?" he drawled. "Why exactly did I get dragged here? Cat got your tongue, big forest boss?"
He yawned widely, covering his mouth with one hand, then stretched lazily. His shoulders cracked under the motion. He sighed, looking deeply annoyed.
"'Cause, honestly, I'd rather be nailed to a wall than have my nap interrupted for… this."
The Matron took a slow breath. Her hands tightened on the throne's armrests, knuckles whitening with effort. She stood stiffly, as dignified as her trembling legs allowed, and gave a slight bow, her gaze never leaving Zayn's.
"Zayn Roskales, Magister of the Zion Guild, we welcome you to the lands of the Northern Forest elves. Your power commands respect, human."
Zayn raised an eyebrow, vaguely irritated.
"Mmh. Yeah. Let's skip the pleasantries." He made a small circling motion with his hand. "I'm not here for the bowing and scraping. Word is, you made a big fuss about seeing me. So you must have something important to say. Go on, I'm listening. Make it quick."
The Matron's jaw tightened briefly, but she continued, composed.
"We stand on the brink of open war. The Dragon King has rallied the forest's corrupted creatures. Our defenses are crumbling one by one. We need a strong alliance with you, representatives of the Kingdom. A formal partnership to repel the horde."
Zayn let out a short, mocking laugh, scratching the back of his head.
"An alliance, huh?"
He glanced at Liam, who stood straight, hands clasped behind his back, not daring to intervene.
Zayn shook his head slightly.
"Here's where it gets funny, Matron, 'cause you're missing something pretty basic."
He raised a finger, taking on a lecturing tone.
"Yeah, it's true. Me and my subordinate were sent to deal with the Dragon King. Him, his goons, his little army. That's the mission. We'll do it."
He lowered his hand and crossed his arms, his gaze hardening slightly.
"But this whole 'grand interspecies alliance' thing? Shaking branches with elves? That's not my idea. That's his."
He jerked his thumb toward his subordinate, who looked away, embarrassed.
"He thought it was a great plan. Getting your people involved, looping you in, all that. Me? I didn't say a word. 'Cause as long as I'm left alone, I don't give a damn. But looks like his plan's starting to stir things up."
He sighed and let his arms drop to his sides.
"So here's my offer. Simple, clear, clean. Even a troll on painkillers could get it."
He held up a hand, fingers spread.
"One: you accept the alliance. Congrats. Your people become… what's the word… the fireworks. You make a diversion. Keep the Dragon King's horde and his small fry busy while we handle the King himself and his generals. The real problems."
He lowered one finger.
"Two: you say no. No big deal. We stick to the mission as planned. Kill the Dragon King, torch his generals, and go home. But if, in the meantime, your people get eaten, burned, or turned into compost… well, that's not our problem. Got it?"
He stepped closer, hands in his pockets, back slightly slouched.
"So? What's it gonna be?"
The Matron froze for a moment. Then she stepped forward, her face stern, her voice slightly higher.
"You dare issue an ultimatum to the representative of the forest people, here in our sanctuary? You may be powerful, but you stand before Matron Eryndra, Guardian of the First Songs, elected leader of the Bark Council. You owe me a modicum of respect."
Zayn stopped dead.
His eyelids lifted slowly, revealing a gaze suddenly devoid of all laziness.
In an instant, the air froze.
Zayn's aura surged without warning, this time more focused, more contained, but even more relentless. The space around him subtly warped.
The Matron didn't move.
She stood upright, but her face drained of all expression. Her lips trembled. She tried to speak, but no sound came. Even her fingers, clenched against the throne's wood, refused to respond.
Zayn stepped closer, slower this time.
He stopped less than a meter from her.
"You… don't seem to grasp who's standing in front of you."
Then, without warning, he turned on his heel.
The aura vanished instantly, as if swept away by an unseen wind. The air became breathable again, and the vines' light regained its softness.
Zayn stopped before the still-active portal.
He raised a lazy hand toward Liam without looking back.
"I've wasted enough time here."
He stepped one leg into the blue energy.
"Don't ever drag me out of bed for this kind of nonsense again, Liam. Next time, I'll sleep through it and let the Dragon King paint the walls with your corpse."
He vanished without a sound.
The portal closed behind him with a shiver of energy.
In the hall, only Liam remained standing, surrounded by an ocean of unconscious, groaning, or still-paralyzed elves. He glanced at the Matron, who was breathing heavily, eyes wide.
He took a deep breath, rubbing his head awkwardly.
He turned slowly toward the Matron.
Eryndra stood rigid as a post, her face colorless, hands clutching the throne's armrests. Cold sweat beaded at her temples.
He forward, hands open in a gesture of peace, an embarrassed grimace on his face. "Matron…" His voice, calm but tinged with genuine remorse, broke the oppressive silence. "I… offer my deepest apologies for… this scene. Truly. I'd completely understand if your people now view any collaboration with us poorly after… this."
The Matron didn't respond right away. She seemed to struggle to steady her ragged breathing. Then, with painful slowness, she loosened her white-knuckled grip on the carved wood and slumped rather than sat back in her throne. Her posture held a forced dignity, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed the immense effort it took.
"Apologies…" Her voice was hoarse, low, as if crushed. She closed her eyes briefly. "…are unnecessary, human." She opened her eyes, meeting his with cold clarity despite the shock. "It was we who insisted you present your superior. With urgency. I understand now…" She let out a trembling breath. "…why you hesitated so much. I learned, at my own expense, the reason for your reluctance."
Liam nodded, looking relieved. "The Magister Roskales…" He searched for words. "…has a rather… direct approach. And a lively personality, especially when roused from sleep. But believe me, Matron, beneath this… flamboyance… he has a good heart. His top priority is completing the mission and protecting the innocent. Don't hold it against him too much."
A short, joyless laugh escaped the Matron. "Hold it against him?" Her fingers tightened again on the armrests, as if anchoring herself to reality. "Human, just now I felt…" She shivered, her gaze drifting into the void. "…a power bordering on divine. A pressure so great I thought my bones would turn to dust, my mind would flicker out." She raised a trembling hand, staring at it as if it were foreign. "Look. My limbs still shake. Pure, primal fear lingers in my bones. 'Holding it against him' isn't even… conceivable. It's like resenting lightning or an earthquake."
She lifted her head slightly, meeting Liam's gaze again, a new glint in her still-wide eyes. "After this… there's no doubt the Kingdom sent its most… capable agents to handle this Dragon King matter." She took a deep breath, seeming to draw a decision from that certainty. "Therefore, human, tell your Magister the forest people accept his terms. We'll be the 'fireworks.' We'll occupy the horde. Do your part. Eliminate this threat quickly."
Liam bowed deeply. "You have our word, Matron. And our deepest thanks." He straightened and cast a glance around the silent battlefield the hall had become: elves unconscious, sobbing quietly, or shaken. His expression darkened. "I'm… truly sorry for all this."
The Matron followed his gaze. An infinite weariness seemed to settle over her. "Your master…" she said, her voice steadier but tinged with new coldness. "…wields power that justifies his arrogance. But elves are proud, human. We don't forget. And we don't accept humiliation." Her eyes locked onto his, intense. "In the future, for all negotiations, all coordination… I wish to deal only with you."
Liam bowed again, less deeply but with gravity. "The honor is mine, Matron. I'll strive to be worthy of your trust."
As he crossed through the portal, the Matron's voice rose again. "Human…"
Liam looked up, surprised.
She studied him. "Those deep shadows under your eyes…" She gestured vaguely toward her own face. "I hadn't imagined the daily ordeal it must be. Serving such a master…" She shook her head slowly. "You must endure so much."
"Oh, no, Matron, you've got it all wrong! The Magister Roskales isn't… well, he doesn't mistreat me, it's just… his personality…" He scrambled for words to explain the unexplainable: that Zayn was mostly a lazy powerhouse with a catastrophic wake-up, not a tyrant.
A small, sad, almost maternal smile touched the Matron's lips. "Trials forge us. One day, this experience will make you a true leader."
Before Liam could find a reply to this unexpected prophecy, the Matron waved a weary hand, dismissing him. "Go. And do what you must, quickly."
Liam, unsettled, gave a short nod. The dim blue energy of his portal flared before him. He cast one last look at the Matron, seated on her throne like a captain on the deck of a sinking ship, surrounded by the silent chaos of her people, then stepped through the glowing threshold.
The portal closed with a soft hiss, leaving the hall in heavy stillness, broken only by the muffled groans and the Matron's ragged breaths as she stared at her still-trembling hands.