Chapter 106: Bought, Not Sworn

Chapter 106: Chapter 106: Bought, Not Sworn

Harrow’s reply came back at dawn, on the same cream paper as before.

Your terms, Investor. The Council Chamber, at noon. Come as you are.

Donald read it twice and handed it to Aris.

His terms had taken most of the night to write. Aris had drafted them, Damian had found the holes, and Helena had read every line twice. In the end there were four:

TIG would become a Royal Guild and take the Seventh Seat. Evelyn Vance would be registered as an S-Rank under TIG, not under the Crown. The Abyssal Gate would stay TIG’s sovereign territory. And the anchor in the TIG reactor would stay where it was, under TIG’s control.

"He agreed to all four," Aris said, reading the reply a third time. "Every one. Without a single change."

"That’s what worries me," Damian said.

---

The Council Chamber was in the center of the Hall, directly under the seven towers.

It was a round room with a high, domed ceiling and a floor of pale gray stone. Seven tall chairs stood in a circle around a ring of silver runes set into the floor. Six of them were occupied. The seventh was empty, its high back carved with a dragon that someone had covered with a white cloth.

Donald walked in alone. No mask today. Aris had been firm about that too.

The six Guild Masters watched him cross the floor.

[Valuation Eye]

He looked at them one at a time.

Edmund Harrow, the First Seat, S-Rank, Level 91. Calm, his hands folded, the gold ring on his finger.

Lady Constance Reed, the Third Seat, A-Rank Oracle, Level 77. An older woman in dark blue, with sharp gray eyes. [Status: Curious. Unbound.]

Lord Henry Barrow, the Fourth Seat, S-Rank Berserker, Level 84. A huge man with a red beard and a scowl. [Status: Hostile. Unbound.]

The other three were quieter. All S-Rank or high A-Rank. All unbound. None of them wore a ring like Harrow’s.

So Paimon only had the First Seat. Good.

"Investor," Harrow said. "Welcome to the Crown Council."

"He isn’t welcome yet," Lord Barrow said. His voice was loud and rough. "He brought down Dragonheart. He blew a hole through the Spire. He broke into our Archive two nights ago, and everyone at this table knows it. And now we’re meant to give him a seat?"

"We are meant to give someone a seat," Lady Reed said dryly. "You’ve all felt it. The ground has been warm under this Hall for a week."

Barrow didn’t answer that.

"The Council has accepted the Investor’s terms," Harrow said, "by a vote of five to one. Lord Barrow’s objection is noted." He nodded at the silver ring on the floor. "There’s only the oath left."

Donald looked down at the runes.

[Arcane Reading]

The ring in the floor came apart in his vision. It wasn’t a single ward. It was seven locks, laid side by side, each one shaped like a door with a keyhole. Six of the keyholes held a thin, bright thread of mana that ran up through the stone to one of the six chairs. One of them held nothing.

And under all seven, far down, he could feel the anchor. It was huge and slow, and it was pressing up against the locks the way a man presses against a door.

[Dimensional Tear Anchor: Resonance 89.9%.]

"You stand in the center," Harrow said. "You speak the oath of the Seventh Seat. The Council Ward takes your mana and ties the seventh lock to your core. From then on, as long as you live and hold the seat, the lock holds."

Donald stepped into the circle.

He felt it at once. The six bright threads, the empty keyhole, and the weight of the anchor underneath. The Council Ward reached for him. It felt for his core, looking for a way to bind him to the lock.

It slid off.

[Title Effect: Breaker of Chains. Binding oath negated.]

The silver runes flickered. The empty keyhole stayed empty.

Barrow laughed out loud.

"There," he said. "You see? The Ward won’t have him. Whatever he is, he can’t swear."

Around the circle, the other Masters shifted in their chairs. Lady Reed leaned forward, frowning. Harrow didn’t move at all.

Donald stood in the center of the ring and thought.

The title had done exactly what Damian had warned him it might. Breaker of Chains made him immune to oaths. The lock couldn’t bind him. And without a binding, the seventh keyhole would stay dark, and in six days the anchor would wake.

He looked down at the ring again, at the empty keyhole.

It was a ward. Seven locks of mana, shaped and set by Guild Masters thirty-one years ago.

And wards could be bought.

He raised his right hand over the empty keyhole.

"[Hostile Takeover]," he said.

Every Master in the room went still.

A golden receipt appeared in the air above the silver ring, bright enough to light the domed ceiling.

[Target: Council Ward, Seventh Lock (S-Rank)]

[Status: Unheld.]

[Appraised Value: 5,500,000 System Credits.]

[Current Balance: 5,760,000 System Credits.]

[Purchase Confirmed?]

"What is that?" Barrow said, half rising from his chair. "What is he doing?"

"I can’t swear to your lock," Donald said, not looking away from the receipt. "So I’m going to buy it."

"You can’t buy a Council lock," Barrow said.

"Watch me," Donald said. "Buy it."

[5,500,000 Credits Deducted.]

[Current Balance: 260,000 System Credits.]

[Ownership Transferred: Seventh Lock now held by The Investor.]

The empty keyhole in the floor filled with gold.

It wasn’t silver like the other six. It was the same bright gold as the System’s screens. A thread of gold mana rose from the keyhole, ran up through the stone floor, and climbed the leg of the covered chair. The white cloth over the dragon carving turned gold at the edges.

Underneath the Hall, the anchor stopped pushing.

Donald felt it go still. Then he felt it settle, slowly, the way a big animal lies down.

[Dimensional Tear Anchor: Resonance 89.9% → 61.0%. Dormant.]

[Seventh Lock: Held.]

Lady Reed let out a long breath. She sat back in her chair and laughed, quietly, as if she didn’t quite believe it.

"Well," she said. "That’s never happened before."

Barrow was standing now, staring at the gold thread. "That isn’t an oath. He isn’t bound to anything. He could sell it tomorrow."

"He could," Lady Reed said. "But he won’t. Why would he? He just paid five million credits for it." She looked at Donald with something close to amusement. "An Investor doesn’t sell his best asset the day after he buys it. Isn’t that right?"

"That’s right," Donald said.

He stepped out of the ring.

Harrow had not said a word through any of it. He was sitting very still in the First Seat, his folded hands in his lap.

Donald looked at him.

[Valuation Eye]

[Target: Lord Edmund Harrow]

[Status: Relief. Fear: Extreme.]

[Binding Activity: Crowned Pact under severe strain.]

The dark-gold thread from Harrow’s ring was pulled so tight now that it was shaking. As Donald watched, it began to glow, brighter and brighter, until the black stone on the ring was giving off its own light.

Harrow’s hands began to shake.

"Harrow," Lady Reed said sharply. "Edmund, what’s wrong?"

Harrow lifted his head.

His eyes had changed. The gray was gone. In its place was a flat, even gold, the color of old coins.

When he spoke, it wasn’t Harrow’s voice. It was deeper and smoother, and every word sounded weighed out before it was spent.

"You bought a lock, Investor," the voice said. "Clever. I admire it. I admire anyone who understands that everything has a price."

The six Guild Masters had gone completely silent. Barrow had his hand on the axe at his side. Lady Reed’s face was white.

Donald stood his ground.

"Paimon," he said.

The gold eyes smiled.

"Everything you can buy, Investor," Paimon said through Harrow’s mouth, "I can buy back. Let’s see whose purse is deeper."

Then Harrow’s eyes went gray again. He slumped forward in his chair, and the ring on his finger went dark.