Ragnarök, Eternal Tragedy.
Chapter 93: Recruitment.

Chapter 93: Recruitment.

As the two guards recognized Tobias and his cargo, they pulled open the towering doors without a word.

The moment Amari stepped inside, something shifted. The air, thick and unnatural, pressed against his lungs. The mansion’s interior glowed with a haunting kind of beauty—crystal chandeliers, black marble floors, paintings of ancestors or ghosts lining every hall.

Amari barely had time to absorb the grandeur when the sound of heels echoed above.

At the top of the staircase, a woman appeared—draped in a sweeping white fur coat, long silver earrings catching the candlelight. Her platinum hair was pulled tight, her posture that of royalty carved from ice.

She stared down at Amari with poised scrutiny.

Then, softly, she smiled.

"You should not be staring into my eyes, boy." (Russian)

Before he could blink, Amari’s knees buckled.

It wasn’t a spell. It was her. Her presence. Her voice. Something ancient and cold pressed down on his spine like it belonged there.

He dropped to his knees involuntarily, head bowing in a low curve.

She descended gracefully, each step purposeful.

"You should always be leaning when you are in my presence." (Russian)

Tobias, who had watched the entire exchange with mild discomfort, finally stepped forward.

"Right, real touching. But I believe we had a deal."

She didn’t look at him at first, then gave a subtle wave of her hand.

One of the guards returned with a velvet bag, heavy with clinking gold. They dropped it at Tobias’s feet.

He popped the latch, smiled wide, and gave her a nod. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Her lips curled faintly.

"Leave. You smell like horse shit." (Russian)

Tobias snorted. ’’I don’t know what you’ve just said, but pleasure doing business with ya’.’’

Amari’s knees ached from the cold floor, but the weight pressing him down wasn’t physical. It was her.

The woman in white circled slowly, each click of her heels deliberate, echoing through the grand chamber like a ticking clock. Finally, she stopped in front of him.

"I am Yana Dragunov," she said, her voice silk wrapped around stone. "And from this moment forward, you belong to me."

She knelt just enough to grip his chin between two gloved fingers, tilting his head upward. Her eyes searched his like they were inspecting a relic—not a person. Not a child.

Then she let go and rose with regal finality. "Get up."

Amari stood, muscles stiff, jaw tight.

"Follow."

She led him into the next room—a sprawling study carved in dark wood and crimson velvet. Books lined the walls like relics. A fire crackled gently, but it didn’t warm the room.

Yana paused near the hearth, removing her gloves.

"You cost me a great deal," she said without turning to face him. "I have bought silence. Paid off entire ports. Watched ships for months—looking for shadows with your shape." She looked over her shoulder, eyes gleaming. "But I must admit—I admire your will. Most would’ve broken."

Amari said nothing.

"I like men with iron inside them," she continued. "That’s the first test, in our family. Not obedience. Will. Because only the strong deserve freedom. Or control."

She turned fully to face him, her posture perfect.

"In the Dragunov family, pain teaches loyalty. And loyalty earns legacy. We do not reward weakness. We... erase it."

Amari finally lifted his head. His voice, though hoarse, was steady.

"...Why are you telling me this?"

Yana gave a small smile sharp as a dagger’s edge.

"Because if you’re to wear our name, you should know what it costs."

Amari’s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, wear your name?"

Yana clasped her hands neatly in front of her, posture perfect. "You are valuable, Amari. Rare. Powerful beyond your age. And strong-willed enough to interest me. That is uncommon."

She stepped closer. "I want you to serve the Dragunov family. And perhaps—if you prove yourself—carry our legacy with purpose."

Before Amari could respond, the door behind them creaked open.

An older man stepped in, cane clicking softly on the floor. His features were sharp, sunken with age, but his presence carried iron. His suit was black, his eyes colder than Yana’s.

Yana froze. "Father," she said curtly. "I told you—I would handle this."

The man’s eyes fell on Amari.

Then he turned to his daughter and spoke in clipped Russian.

"You’re recruiting slaves now?"

Yana’s face tightened. "Please. This has nothing to do with you."

The man ignored her and stared directly at Amari.

His voice lowered to a cold sneer.

"Worse—he’s Black."

Yana bristled, face rigid with tension, but didn’t respond.

Amari didn’t flinch.

He stood silent while the two voices clashed around him like steel on steel.

Yana defended him with icy precision, her back ramrod straight, her words sharp but calculated. "He is useful. He survived what should’ve broken him. There is value in that."

Her father sneered beside the hearth, cane tapping the floor with every bitter sentence. "He is a risk. Not a soldier. Not blood. You’d stake our name on a stray?"

Yana’s reply was cold enough to frost the glass: "You gave me this house. You told me to find strength. I’ve brought it to our doorstep."

A long silence stretched—until the old man finally leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"Fine," he said. "He serves under you. Not as kin. As blade. You shape him, feed him, discipline him. If he fails, you bear it."

Yana gave a small bow of the head.

"And if he succeeds," she said, "he earns the right to keep his name alive... or trade it."

The terms hung heavy in the air. The fire crackled. The Dragunovs had laid their conditions bare.

Then Amari finally spoke.

"I want a favor."

The silence snapped back like a whip.

The old man’s lip curled. "A favor? Why the hell would we give you anything?"

Amari didn’t flinch.

"Because if you expect me to carry the Dragunov crest... to stain my name in your blood and live under your code..." He lifted his chin slowly. "Then you want more than a servant. You want someone who chooses to stay."

He held Yana’s gaze now.

"This favor—it’ll benefit you. And your family. We both want something. I’m just willing to ask first."