Within an elegantly appointed study at the Mosey mansion, Seamus, the prince of a different lineage, was personally pouring drinks for two young visitors.
The atmosphere was markedly different from the rest of the mansion. The usual imposing grandeur was absent, replaced by the cautious courtesy reserved for those of superior status. Evander Quinton remained impassive, offering only a slight nod in response to Seamus’ attentiveness.
Elowen Quinton lifted her cup and inhaled the aroma of the tea. She held herself gracefully, yet there was an unmistakable distance in her posture. “This tea is excellent,” she remarked after a sip, sounding genuinely pleased.
“These leaves are spiritual tea from the Appalchi Highlands, a most rare vintage,” Seamus replied with a smile. “Should it be to your liking, I will have a selection prepared for you at once.”
“No need for such formalities, Sir Mosey.” Evander set down his cup and got straight to the point. “We don’t have much time. Have you given proper thought to what we discussed last time?”
Seamus replied solemnly, “Being noticed by the Quinton family is a rare honor. But… There’s something on my mind that I’m not sure if it is appropriate to ask.”
“Go on,” Evander replied, his expression unreadable. Seamus began, “Your family’s lineage stretches back thousands of years. You’ve always stood apart from the temporal world and pursued paths far beyond mortal rule.
“Moreover, you’ve never interfered in mortal politics or in which king sits on the throne. Why choose me? Why choose to meddle in the affairs of Dragonmarsh’s throne succession?”
Seamus held Evander’s gaze, his expression one of earnest inquiry. But behind that carefully maintained facade, his eyes were sharply observant, meticulously scanning Evander’s face for the slightest reaction.
Evander exchanged a glance with Elowen, who shook her head almost imperceptibly. Turning back to Seamus, Evander’s eyes were as deep and unreadable.
“This isn’t something you need to concern yourself with,” he said. “We act by our own rules. If you agree, we can help you claim the throne and hold absolute power over Dragonmarsh for ten years. In return, you will follow our orders and carry out tasks for the family. If you refuse…”
He paused for a beat. His tone was calm but left no room for doubt about the stakes. ” We can always support someone else. I’ve heard the three Dragonmarsh princes each have their own merits. We could just choose any one of them.
“What you seek is the pursuit of a lifetime. But for our family, it is merely a matter of selecting a slightly more or less convenient piece on the board.” Seamus felt a sudden chill, and cold sweat broke out across his back.
Evander’s calm tone and absolute control made him fully aware of just how terrifying a hidden, centuries-old family could be. To them, the so-called royalty and power were probably no more significant than ants.
Seamus instantly abandoned any thought of pressing further.
“You flatter me, Lord Quinton,” he said quickly. “It’s already a great honor that your esteemed family holds me in regard. How could I possibly harbor any doubts? I am entirely at your disposal and will dedicate my utmost to serving the Quintons.”
A faint, almost imperceptible smile finally touched Evander’s lips. “Good. You are a wise man, Sir Mosey. It’s always a pleasure to work with someone sharp.”
With a flick of his finger, a token engraved with strange, cloud-like patterns landed soundlessly on the table before Seamus.
“This is a token and a means of communication. Whatever you need to do will be conveyed through it. You don’t need to contact us unless we instruct you to do so. Just focus on your duties, and above all, don’t draw attention to yourself or provoke anyone you shouldn’t.”
His last sentence was laden with unspoken warnings. Seamus picked up the cool token with both hands and noticed it felt heavier than its size suggested.
“Got it,” he replied. “I will remember it.”
“Your task now is to consolidate your position and build up your forces quietly,” Evander instructed. “When the time is right, you will be told the next steps.”
With that, he and Elowen rose to their feet. Without any visible movement, their figures seemed to blur and fade like dissipating mist, vanishing from the study as if they had never been there at all.
Seamus remained standing in place for a long while, with the token in his hand, before finally straightening his posture. His eyes held a new, complex depth of thought.
The Quintons, a family withdrawn from the world for so long, were now suddenly involving themselves in royal affairs. He couldn’t tell if this was a blessing or a curse.
Since the throne was within his reach, he had no reason to refuse. With the backing of the Quinton family, he could rule Dragonmarsh and perhaps even the entire world. Just then, someone knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Seamus said, collecting himself. The door opened, and Anders stepped inside. He said respectfully, “Godfather, the matter you entrusted to me has been taken care of.”
“Good work. You’ve done well,” Seamus responded with a nod.
“It was nothing,” Anders replied. “But I don’t understand why a small company like the Dash Corporation is worth your attention?”
“Targeting them wasn’t my decision,” Seamus said evenly. “I’m simply following orders.”
“Oh?” Anders couldn’t hide his shock. ” Who in this world could possibly give you orders?”
“Have you heard of the Quinton family?” Seamus asked.
“The Quintons?” Anders frowned, then his expression shifted to one of grave understanding. “You mean… the legendary cultivator family that stays hidden from the world?”
“That’s right,” Seamus replied with a nod.
“Their family’s legacy spans a thousand years, and very few people have heard of them. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t have believed it either.”
“You’re saying they have already approached you?” Anders asked, stunned.
“Yes.” Seamus didn’t deny it. “An emissary came. They say they’ll support my ascension to the throne. But in return, I must follow their orders for the next ten years.”
“And you agreed?” Anders ventured. If it meant ascending to the throne, obeying the Quinton family for a decade didn’t seem like too steep a price.
“Of course,” Seamus said. “If I refused, they’d support someone else. Then, we wouldn’t survive the fallout. We’re not in a position to offend a family of cultivators.”
“You’ve made a wise decision, Godfather,” Anders said.
“I’m getting old,” Seamus said calmly. ” Even if I ascend to the throne, I won’t enjoy it for many years. When that time comes, everything I have will be yours. So from now on, you need to handle things properly and not make any mistakes.”
“You have my word. Godfather. I won’t let you down,” Anders replied, unable to hide his excitement.
At last, the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity he had been waiting for had arrived. If he could bypass Seamus and deal directly with the Quinton family, might his future look even brighter?
