Alavin and his companions returned to their room to continue their soak in the bath.
The medicinal spring indeed had healing properties; soaking in it felt as though warm energy was flowing through their Channel of Energy, invigorating flesh and bone alike. The warmth and tingling sensation at the site of their wounds were indescribably comforting.
"A marriage alliance?" Balder realized with a start, no wonder the fierce beating.
"What secrets does Botanic Haven hold?" Cedrick lifted his goblet, tossing back the contents in one gulp.
"I'm not sure," Alavin deflected vaguely.
"You pummeled Marak to..." Balder looked intently at Alavin, leaving the rest unspoken.
"Since he witnessed the tournament, he'll see me as a threat. With his arrogant temperament, he'll eventually seek my demise. So... what I mean is, if you can strike first, why wait for the future, right?" Alavin turned his gaze to Balder.
Thrashing Marak wasn't just about releasing pent-up anger; it was about making a statement so the whole city would know Marak trespassed in The Clash of Eight Orders.
This would mean the Eight Orders wouldn't let Marak off lightly and would aggressively hunt down his guards, aiming to catch them all in one sweep.
Cedrick said, "The Eight Orders won't kill Marak. They'll either negotiate with Lord Viperbane to have him taken back or deliver him personally."
Balder lay back in the warm water. “Leave it to me! He won’t be returning to Lord Viperbane.”
Alavin chuckled softly; this was exactly his plan! An ambush en route to eliminate Marak. Not only would this rid him of future trouble, but it would also incite Lord Viperbane, potentially leading to war with the Eight Orders. With both parties preoccupied and at odds, no one would bother him, nor would there be any more talk of unwanted alliances.
Killing several birds with one stone. He never believed in the inherent goodness of men or women; dangers were better snuffed out early to avoid future suffering.
Cedrick took a longer look at Balder, understanding Alavin’s ruthless disposition. He was curious as to why Balder would cooperate. The rotund fellow was no pushover either, it seemed.
The hallway outside had returned to tranquility, as Enosto had personally appeased the guests in each room.
But after a brief moment of quiet, Alavin's door was rudely pushed open, and Lylian, wrapped in a bathrobe, stepped inside. "Alavin, do you have a grudge against Marak?"
Her dripping hair casually spread over her shoulders, and her skin was soft and tender, revealing enticing arms and legs, like a nymph emerging from water. Though she was barely fifteen, she was well-developed, with curves in all the right places. She lacked the fierce demeanor she had on the battlefield and was instead exuding a soul-stealing charm.
"Aren't you afraid of being misunderstood, wandering around in a bathrobe like that?" Alavin lay back in the spring, languidly.
"I'm asking you a question," Lylian retorted with a hint of petulance.
"Are you friends with Marak?"
Alavin intended to provoke her to leave, but to his surprise, Lylian nodded. "Make room."
"Stop, stop, stop, I yield." Three grown men bathing with a girl, what kind of scene was this?
"Hmph, lustful but cowardly," Lylian shot back, her youthful fragrance wafting around her. "I'm very curious about something. Answer me, and I'll leave."
"I'm listening," Alavin sipped at his medicinal wine, feeling a warm rush spread through his body, utterly soothing.
"You healed remarkably fast from a severe injury last time, and now again, you're recovering quickly. How do you do it? Don't tell me it's some Magical Remedy. Given Cobalt Strike's attitude, they wouldn't give you anything of the sort." Lylian had never accepted defeat, save for against Alavin. She couldn't stand it but was even more curious as to how Alavin always bounced back so quickly after injuries. There had to be a secret.
"A secret."
"I could trade you for it."
"What do you have?"
"My friend."
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