Gon's Harem System
Chapter 140: Lord Thane’s conversation

Chapter 140: Lord Thane’s conversation

The dimly lit chamber was heavy with the scent of aged wood and flickering candle wax.

Lord Thane, a towering figure clad in dark velvet, stood with his arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on the shadowed silhouette across the room.

The man he spoke to remained obscured, his features swallowed by the gloom, only the faint glint of his eyes catching the light.

Their voices, low and measured, carried the weight of secrets too dangerous to be spoken aloud.

"The duchy tournament concluded in an unexpected manner," Lord Thane was saying, his tone clipped and precise.

"The young heir emerged victorious. The Duke’s son proved his mettle, to the surprise of all of us."

His lips twitched into a faint, approving smirk, though his eyes remained cold, calculating.

The boy’s skill with a blade and his raw, unpolished strength had turned heads, cementing his place as a force within the duchy.

The shadowed figure shifted slightly, the rustle of fabric barely audible.

"A unpredictable outcome," he replied, his voice smooth, almost serpentine.

"But more than that, I see potential beyond these petty games. Gon will be a very big cog in our plan."

He paused, letting the words hang, their implication curling through the air like smoke.

Lord Thane’s expression hardened, his brow furrowing as he tilted his head.

"Our plan?" he asked coldly, his voice slicing through the room like a blade.

"Or do you mean my plan?"

His fingers tightened around his forearms, the subtle tension betraying the steel beneath his composure.

He was no man’s pawn, least of all this faceless schemer’s.

The other man chuckled, a low, dry sound that held no warmth.

"Yours, of course, Lord Thane," he conceded, raising a placating hand, though the gesture felt hollow.

"I merely point out that your design, if it falls into place, stands to benefit me as well. A rising tide lifts all ships, does it not?"

His tone carried a hint of mockery, but the logic was sound, a calculated appeal to Thane’s pragmatism.

Lord Thane regarded him for a long moment, his piercing eyes searching the darkness as if he could unravel the man’s intent by sheer will.

Finally, he gave a curt nod, the barest acknowledgment of their shared stake.

"Indeed," he said, his voice softening only slightly.

"The young heir’s success strengthens my position, and through it, yours. But speak plainly, what do you propose next?"

The shadowed man leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"The kingdom tournament approaches," he said, each word deliberate, weighted.

"What if something were to happen to Gon there?"

The suggestion lingered, sharp and treacherous, a dagger slipped between the ribs of their conversation.

Lord Thane’s eyes widened, a rare crack in his icy facade.

"You mean to harm the young heir?" he asked, his voice rising with surprise, though it quickly steadied into something darker, more guarded.

His mind raced, Gon was the Duke’s son, a linchpin in the duchy’s future, to strike at him was to risk everything, yet the man’s words hinted at a boldness that intrigued him despite himself.

The shadowed man leaned back, his silhouette barely shifting in the dim chamber as he shrugged, a casual gesture that belied the weight of his words.

"Accidents happen all the time," he said, his voice smooth and detached.

"A young boy like Gon could be hastened on his journey out of this world with little effort, just a few strings pulled here and there."

His tone was almost flippant, as if discussing the weather, but the implication hung heavy, a dark thread woven into the air.

Lord Thane stood motionless, his hand rising to his beard, fingers brushing the thick strands meticulously bound into multiple ponytails.

He rubbed them thoughtfully, the coarse hair grounding him as his mind turned over the suggestion.

Eliminating Gon, the Duke’s son, hadn’t crossed his mind before.

The boy was brash, untested beyond the duchy’s borders, a victor in a minor tournament through what Thane suspected was more luck than skill.

To end him now seemed an overreach, a step too far into the shadows.

He paused, his sharp eyes narrowing as he weighed the idea.

The flickering candlelight cast jagged shadows across his face, accentuating the hard lines of his jaw.

After a long moment, he shook his head, the decision settling like stone in his chest.

"No," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the stillness.

"I don’t think Gon is powerful or dangerous enough to warrant such drastic means."

He stepped forward, his tone measured but resolute.

"Let him go to the kingdom tournament. Let’s see if he can hold his own against the other mages. For now, he’s only won a small contest, a fluke in a backwater duchy. He’s of little importance."

His words carried a dismissive edge, though a flicker of curiosity lingered, could the boy rise beyond his current station, or would he falter under real pressure?

The man in the shadows tilted his head, his unseen gaze probing.

"Are you certain?" he asked, his voice low, testing.

"You’re not just saying that to protect the boy?"

There was a challenge there, a subtle push against Thane’s resolve, as if he suspected sentiment beneath the lord’s cold exterior.

Lord Thane’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable.

"That’s not why," he replied sharply, his voice like iron.

But inwardly, a quiet question stirred, did he truly harbor no desire to shield the young heir?

He dismissed it as quickly as it came, unwilling to entertain the notion.

His decisions were born of strategy, not softness.

Gon’s fate mattered only as far as it served his plans, or so he told himself.

The shadowed man sighed, a sound heavy with reluctance, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"Very well," he conceded, the fight draining from his tone.

"I won’t try to hurt Gon."

His words were grudging, a retreat from the brink of something darker, though whether he meant it or merely placated Thane remained unclear.

He rose from his seat, the faint creak of the chair breaking the tension.

His form remained shrouded as he moved toward the door, footsteps soft but deliberate.

Lord Thane watched him go, his hand still resting on his beard, fingers tracing the ponytails absently.

For now, Gon would live, his path to the kingdom tournament unchallenged.

But Thane’s mind lingered on the boy’s potential, a spark of intrigue buried beneath his calculated resolve.