CHAPTER 34: THE CRADLE OF AN EMPIRE

The messengers, though humiliated and half-naked, remained frozen. Some lowered their eyes, aware of the disaster they had just caused. Others, despite the fear, let a nearly imperceptible smile appear, a twisted amusement at the effect their betrayal had on their former mistresses.

My eyes roamed over each of the chieftesses, lingering on their tense bodies, on the sweat beading between their breasts, on their thighs opened by nervousness and involuntary desire. Every breath seemed heavier, every muscle contracted. I let the silence last, my fingers slowly opening on my knees as I sat cross-legged, a calm, almost meditative posture, but one filled with control.

— So, is this where it all ends? I asked in a low, steady voice. Or perhaps you still think you hold something... but look around you. Every movement, every breath, every gesture... already belongs to me.

The circle of chieftesses stirred, some wanting to advance, others to retreat. But the ambush, perfectly orchestrated, had frozen them. Three archers hidden in the heights, bows drawn, tracked every movement as silent threats. No gesture could escape notice.

— You... murmured Neyvara, her fingers brushing her thighs, her voice almost strangled, you cannot...

I smiled slowly, letting the silence do its work. Surprise, incomprehension, and fear intertwined in their eyes. The circle was no longer a place of gathering, but a cage where every breath, every movement, every part of their bodies betrayed their vulnerability.

— You look at me as if I were mad, I said at last, my voice calm yet sharp, and yet, all around you is already my domain. I am here... and you see what you thought you held? It is already in my hands.

The fire flickered, casting shifting shadows on their exposed bodies. And I knew they had understood, each in her own way. The gorge, the valley, the clans... nothing would escape what I envisioned, and this moment, this tension, sealed the takeover before I had even spoken another word.

I sat cross-legged, the black sand biting lightly into my thighs, my arms resting on my knees. The heat of the crackling fire before me contrasted with the icy cold from the cliffs, but I did not care.

Every breath of my opponents, every movement of their bare chests, every shiver of their exposed thighs passed under my gaze like an invisible thread I pulled. They watched me, tense, unable to look away. The silence was heavy, but this calm was only another weapon.

— You think I am here with fifty men to force you, I said softly, almost as a whisper. You believe this circle and these torches are enough to contain my power, that you are safe, that your warriors can still act.

Lyrria shivered, Zae’s eyes widened, Oranna let out a breath I knew betrayed her nervousness. They sensed something, but not yet the full extent. I let the silence stretch, my muscles relaxed, yet every word weighed like a hammer on their minds.

— Even with fifty men here, I said, dragging out my words, I am already master of this valley. My troops, more than a thousand, are on their way to your clans. They will march on your villages and your outposts the moment I decide. You sit here, exposed, and they are outside, ready to strike.

A shiver ran through the circle. Glances met, a mix of anger and worry. They understood instinctively: they were alone, isolated, and the moment they might act against me would never come without their entire world collapsing around them.

— So, you plan to force us, Oranna growled, jaw tight, breath short. With this circle and these fifty soldiers...

— No, I replied, almost gently. That is not why I am here. Look closely: I could crush you here, wipe out this circle, scatter your bodies and your clans in an instant. But I do not. Why? Because I want you to see. To understand what it truly means to defy me, what it means to lose control of your forces, your villages, your men.

Lyrria whispered, her breath trembling:

— Even if we refuse... we have already lost.

— Exactly, I said, and that is why I sit here, calm. The men outside are your shadow. You do not yet see their presence, but you will feel it when the time comes. They will strike, and your clans, bereft of their leaders, will collapse like towers of sand. You are already in a position of vulnerability.

The wind whistled, the fire crackled, and I let my eyes sweep over their tense bodies. Every heaving chest, every drop of sweat glistening between their thighs, every finger clenched on the sand or on damp fabric told the same truth: they were already defeated, not by brute force, but by strategy, patience, and the invisible presence of my men.

I let a smile stretch my lips, the cold calm of a master watching his pieces.

— Understand this well... I continued, my eyes locked with theirs, this valley is already in my hands. You are here, your bodies and your instincts betraying your fear. And outside... my men will march, every movement calculated, every strike precise. But I do not do it yet. I give you time to listen. To hear why I have come.

A heavy, almost suffocating silence settled. The flames flickered, casting shifting shadows over the exposed bodies. They had understood, at last. Every breath, every shiver, every contraction of their bellies testified to the realization: they were isolated, vulnerable, and already outmatched, and I... I smiled, absolute master of this game.

I let them devour me with their eyes for a moment, like wolves ready to tear my throat out at the slightest misstep. I did not look away. I sat cross-legged, relaxed in appearance, but I knew that the slightest of my gestures would unleash a rain of steel.

— Calm yourselves, I said at last, my voice low but clear enough to resonate in the circle. My troops will not advance without my order. Not a single step. Not a single arrow.

A breath passed. They stiffened, some exchanged glances, searching for the flaw in my words. One of them almost spat:

— You think that changes anything? You already hold us at the end of your rope.

I shrugged slightly.

— If I had wanted to crush you, I would not have bothered to sit down. You would already be dead.

A thick silence fell again. I let my hand linger on the ground, playing with the dust between my fingers, as if this were nothing more than a simple conversation around a fire.

— Listen to me well. I do not deny your strength. I know what you are capable of. I respect you for that. If I faced you head-on, I could very well lose my life... and I have no intention of dying here. It is precisely because I esteem you that I do all this.

I paused, observing them one by one. Their eyes burned with contained rage, but behind it I already saw doubt appear, that fissure in their pride that begged to be widened.

— I impose nothing on you. Not yet. What I want is for you to listen. Nothing more. Afterwards, you will decide. But at least, you will understand what I have in mind.

I felt the hot breath of adrenaline rising in my throat. Some still stood ready to pounce, but I saw their jaws clench, their breathing fall into rhythm with my words. They were no longer entirely in attack. Not yet in acceptance either. In that fragile in-between, exactly where I wanted them.

I let the silence drag on, long, almost uncomfortable. The chieftesses stared at me, tense, as if waiting for me to finally give the order for my men to slit their throats. But I took my time. I slowly pulled a small leather pouch from my tunic, placed it between my legs, and opened it with a calm gesture.

A dark gleam, almost liquid, burst from within.

Their eyes widened. Some involuntarily stepped back. I pinched two fingers and drew out a fragment, no larger than a pebble. Black with silver reflections, heavy and yet astonishingly light in my palm.

— You thought I wanted the Split Spine for its water, I said in a steady voice. That I fought to control your rivers, your springs, your wells. You understood nothing.

I placed the fragment on the table before me. The sharp sound echoed in the air like a hammer strike.

— The water was only bait. Beneath the Split Spine lies what you never knew to see. A mine. A vein that has slept for centuries. Abyssium.

The word cracked in their ears. One of the chieftesses recoiled, as if I had just placed a viper on the table. Another, older, furrowed her brow, lips trembling. She knew. The others guessed. All were struck.

I stroked the pebble with my thumb. Its cold surface vibrated slightly, as if a dull energy pulsed within.

— One of the rarest ores on the demonic continent, I went on slowly. Maximum magical conductivity, featherweight, near absolute resistance. With it, one forges weapons that shatter spells. Armors that no claw, no blade, no flame can pierce.

Their ragged breaths filled the chamber. Some bit their lips, others tried to remain dignified, but all knew that what they saw was no lie.

I leaned forward, my eyes boring into theirs.

— That is why I am here. That is what I have pursued since the very first day. You saw me march on clans, you saw me line up my men, and you thought my goal stopped at your conquest. But it was only a mask. The truth is, the Split Spine is already mine. And with it, the world can bend.

I left the stone on the table. No sound disturbed the circle, save for the short breath of these women who, for the first time, realized just how blind they had been.

I let their eyes cling to the black gleam before them. The silence lingered, thick, saturated with their fear mingled with greed. Then I spoke, without raising my voice. My voice emptied of intonation, became simple recitation. As if I were reading a text by heart.

— In a few months, I said, the valley will be consolidated. Irrigation will cover all crops. The granaries will be shared, surpluses stored. The abyssium mine will begin its regular extraction. Each fragment will be weighed, controlled, recorded.

I paused. Some swallowed, uneasy. I went on, implacable.

— In five years, ten at most, a city will be built here. Fortified. A unified army will protect it, under a single banner. Foreign trade will be open, stable, lucrative. This place will become a capital worthy of the greatest on the continent.

I was not trying to persuade. I described. I unfolded the future before them as a series of facts, already written, already set. I barely blinked.

— The roads will be paved. Armed convoys will travel without fear. The arsenals will produce weapons no magic can counter. The city will rise as a model of power and wealth. Those who try to break it will be crushed. Those who wish to join will submit.

A long silence fell. I heard their short breaths, the echo of my words turning in their minds. Some looked terrified. Others fascinated. One of them, I saw, bit her lip with an expression I knew too well: she wrestled between fear and the desire to throw herself at my feet.

I straightened slightly, my tone regaining a semblance of humanity.

— I do not ask you to believe. I only ask you to look around you, and to see. The future I have just described, I already see it.

I let my voice fall. The weight of my plan, cold and stark, hung in the air.

I rose slowly, sweeping my gaze over the circle of their tense faces. The torches cast jagged shadows over them, as if each was already split in two: the proud warrior and the shaken woman. I inhaled and dropped the words.

— The gorge is not a battlefield... It is a cradle.

The silence thickened. Not a cough, not a rustle of cloth. Only my words striking, sharp, without detour.

— For generations, you have torn each other apart for water, for a few acres of land, for a prestige as fleeting as your quarrels. But this valley, I tell you, was never made for that. It was not shaped for pettiness. It is the cradle of an empire.

I let my eyes linger on each of them, one by one, as if I were driving a nail into their chests. They lowered their heads, looked away, but I felt they heard me. That they could no longer ignore what I said.

— You are strong, feared, chieftesses venerated by your clans. But your name, tell me... what will remain of it in a hundred years? A faded grave, a forgotten war song? Or else...

I took a step forward. The flame of a torch made the abyssium on the table gleam.

— Or else will you be those whose names History remembers as the founders. The mothers of an empire that will surpass everything your ancestors ever dreamed of.

I spoke softly, yet my words struck harder than screams.

— You have two choices. You can bow to your instincts, rebel, try to cut me down, and end up crushed. Your clan will burn behind you. Your line will die out. Your name will vanish.

I let a silence, heavy, stretch their anguish. Then I concluded, more firmly:

— Or you can choose to step into this future. Not as the vanquished... but as the first. Those whom generations will call founders, pioneers, legends.

I paused one last time, my eyes burning in the shadows.

— I will build this world. With you... or upon your ashes.

The silence that followed was of crushing density. Some clenched their fists, knuckles white.

Others had parted lips, fascinated despite themselves. I saw fear, yes, but I also saw a new flame: the terrible certainty that perhaps they stood not before a mere man... but before the very destiny of the gorge.