A tight knot coiled in Valerius's stomach. His fingers, unusually clumsy, fumbled with the wax seal of the missive. The parchment, a rich cream, bore the imposing crest of the Grand Duke, a figure of immense power and unpredictable temperament. Lorghar watched from his usual spot, a shadowed corner of Valerius's study. His presence was almost an afterthought now, a quiet fixture. He saw the Baron's shallow breathing, the subtle tremor in his hand. Valerius usually carried himself with a manufactured bluster, but this letter stripped it away. An instinct, sharp and precise, stirred within Lorghar. His omnipotence, ever-present, reached out. Not a physical touch, but a tendril of pure conscious intent, brushing against the sealed missive. He didn't need to open it. He didn't need to read with his eyes. The symbols on the parchment, the very ink molecules, vibrated with information. It flowed into his mind, immediate and whole. The Grand Duke's precise, authoritative script. The urgent, demanding tone. A request for detailed reports on Blight anomalies. And then, the words that snagged his attention, like a barb in his flesh: *unusual surges of 'Weaver energy'. Actively seek and report any individuals exhibiting such capabilities.* Weavers. The word resonated in his mind, cold and sharp. Not 'anomalies', not 'gifted individuals', but 'Weavers'. A recognized classification. A target. This world knew of his kind. A cold dread seeped into his bones, quick and unsettling. He was not just powerful; he was known. He was being hunted. Valerius finally broke the seal, a soft tearing sound in the hushed room. His eyes scanned the lines, his face paling further with each word. His posture crumpled, the fake bravado draining from him like water from a sieve. He was a small man, revealed in the shadow of true power. His voice, when he finally spoke, was a reedy whisper. "The Grand Duke... demands..." He trailed off, his gaze darting around the room, settling for a brief, terrified moment on Lorghar. As if he sensed, without knowing how, that Lorghar was connected to the missive's chilling contents. Lorghar maintained a neutral expression, his eyes unreadable. He had to play this carefully. "Demands what, Baron? Bad news?" His tone was mild, almost sympathetic. He watched Valerius closely, noting the beads of sweat on his brow, the way his jaw worked, attempting to regain composure and failing spectacularly. Valerius swallowed hard, clutching the letter like a death warrant. "He... he wants reports. On the Blight, yes. But also... he's asking about... about *Weavers*." The word was spat out, laced with fear and revulsion, as if it were a curse. Lorghar tilted his head slightly. "Weavers? What are those? Some new kind of monster spawned by the Blight?" He feigned ignorance, a calculated risk. He needed to gauge the Baron's understanding, the depth of this world's knowledge. Valerius shook his head, a frantic motion. "No, no. Not monsters. At least... not exactly. They're... individuals. With strange powers. Able to... to bend reality, some say. To command impossible things." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, as if merely speaking the words could summon them. Lorghar's internal alarm bells screamed. Bend reality. Command impossible things. That was *him*. The Grand Duke wasn't just investigating vague energy surges. He was hunting individuals precisely like Lorghar. The scale of the threat was far greater than he had imagined. His nascent omnipotence, his ultimate cheat, was not an unknown anomaly to the world's most powerful. It was a known, and feared, quantity. This wasn't just a local skirmish with a few nobles. This was a grand chessboard, and he, Lorghar, was a piece suddenly deemed too valuable, or too dangerous, to remain unchecked. The humiliation of being branded 'Trash' had fueled his hunger for power. Now, that power made him a target for an even grander, more terrifying form of contempt. Valerius, still trembling, started pacing. "The Grand Duke is known for his... peculiar interests. He collects rare artifacts. Rare knowledge. And now... he's collecting people." He wrung his hands, his eyes wide with a desperate fear. "What if one of *them* is found in my domain? What would he do? The shame... the punishment..." Lorghar observed the Baron's fear, not with sympathy, but with detached analysis. Valerius's fear wasn't for the 'Weavers' themselves, or even for the potential danger they represented. It was purely self-preservation, fear of the Grand Duke's wrath. It showed the true dynamic of power: the Grand Duke was an apex predator, and Valerius merely prey, desperate to appease. "So, the Grand Duke seeks these 'Weavers' for his own purposes," Lorghar mused aloud, keeping his voice even. "And you are expected to assist in their capture, should they appear." "Assist? I am to lead the charge! To scour my lands!" Valerius cried, a desperate edge to his voice. "And report any unusual phenomena. Any... *energy signatures* that might indicate their presence." He looked at Lorghar, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes, quickly masked by obsequiousness. "You've been... effective, Lorghar. With the Blight. Perhaps you have some insight into these... energies." Lorghar’s gaze hardened imperceptibly. The Baron was fishing. Was it just a general inquiry, or had Elara's recent 'cure' raised some subtle red flags? He needed to redirect. "The Blight is chaos, Baron. These 'Weavers' sound like something else entirely. Something ancient, perhaps. Beyond our understanding." He shrugged, feigning disinterest. "My focus remains on the Blight. That is the immediate threat to your people, is it not?" Valerius nodded vigorously, latching onto the deflection. "Yes, yes! Of course! The Blight! But the Grand Duke... his commands are absolute. I cannot displease him. My standing... my family's future... everything depends on it." Lorghar stepped forward, out of the shadows. His face was calm, his eyes holding a calculating gleam. "Perhaps, then, we simply ensure nothing 'unusual' appears in your domain. And that any reports are... thoroughly managed." The subtle implication hung in the air: *I can help you control the information, Baron.* Valerius looked at him, hope flickering in his eyes. "Managed? How? The Grand Duke's network is vast. His spies are everywhere." "Indeed," Lorghar agreed, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Which is why we must be smarter than his spies. If a 'Weaver' were to manifest... wouldn't it be better if they manifested *elsewhere*? Or perhaps, simply didn't manifest at all, in any way that could be detected?" He left the statement open, letting the Baron's mind fill in the blanks. His words were a delicate web of manipulation. He offered Valerius a shield, a way to avoid the Grand Duke's wrath, while subtly controlling the narrative around himself. If he was a 'Weaver', he would ensure no one in Valerius's domain would ever discover it. He would become undetectable, or, if necessary, ensure that any other 'Weaver' discovered would point away from him. The Baron's eyes widened. He saw the cunning. He saw the ruthless efficiency. And he saw a way out of his predicament. He didn't question how Lorghar might achieve such a feat. He just knew that Lorghar had, thus far, delivered on every impossible promise. "You... you think you could?" Valerius stammered, his voice filled with a desperate, burgeoning hope. The Grand Duke was a distant, terrifying storm. Lorghar, for all his low birth, was a concrete, tangible solution. "I think, Baron, that we have proven resourceful against impossible odds," Lorghar replied smoothly. "The Blight proved a challenge. This... 'Weaver' hunt... will be merely another." He watched the relief wash over Valerius, a wave of obsequiousness replacing the fear. This was how power worked. Not through brute force, but through controlling the flow of information, the perception of reality. And through offering solutions to the fearful. He felt the surge of his own potential, his absolute control. He would turn this hunt into an advantage. He would learn more about these 'Weavers', about the Grand Duke, about the true nature of this world's hidden forces. He would not be hunted. He would become the hunter. This new information was a double-edged sword. It brought alarm, yes, a realization of deeper dangers. But it also brought clarity. He wasn't alone in his abilities, and others knew of them. That meant there was a history, a framework, and perhaps even a path to understanding his own power more fully. The Grand Duke, in his relentless pursuit, was inadvertently opening a door for Lorghar. He would use Valerius as a shield, a pawn, a source of information. He would learn everything the Grand Duke knew, and then some. The thought ignited a cold fire in his gut. He had been 'Trash' because he had no power. Now he had power, and the world was reacting. He would make them regret ever branding him. "Report nothing for now," Lorghar instructed, his voice low and firm. "Observe. Listen. But do not act until I give the word. We need to understand the Grand Duke's true intentions here. And the nature of these 'Weavers'." Valerius nodded, a dog eager for its master's command. "As you wish, Lorghar. As you wish." --- Seraphina had watched the entire exchange from the doorframe, her expression unreadable. She had seen the way Lorghar's eyes had subtly changed when Valerius first touched the letter. She had observed his preternatural calm, his almost bored demeanor, even as Valerius spiraled into panic. She hadn't heard the exact words of the missive, but she had seen the effect it had on both men. And she had felt the subtle, almost imperceptible shift in the air around Lorghar, a ripple of controlled power she was only just beginning to recognize. She knew Lorghar was more than he seemed. She knew he had manipulated Valerius into a false sense of security, offering a solution to a problem he likely already understood, perhaps even caused. She saw the glint of ambition in his eyes, the cold calculation that Valerius was too blind to perceive. Seraphina took a step forward, her voice low. "The Grand Duke has a Weaver of his own. An enforcer. They call him 'The Void Hand'."

Chapter 18: The Grand Duke's Gaze