Chapter 238 The trial of silver: Klaus's POV
Chapter 238 The trial of silver: Klaus's POV
The main hall of Miller’s stone manor was packed with people by mid-morning.
Elder John sat at the long oak table beside three village elders, their wooden slates laid out before them. Gideon stood by the high fireplace, his massive arms crossed over his leather apron, while Valerius and Garos guarded the double front doors. Out in the muddy courtyard, twenty quarry workers and villagers had gathered to hear the council's decision.
In the center of the hall, bound in iron chains, stood Vance and Master Miller.
Vance looked thin and ragged, his wool coat torn from weeks of breaking granite at the quarry pit. Miller was sweating profusely despite the winter chill, his eyes darting frantically toward a wealthy visiting border merchant named Vane-Mark, who sat near the end of the table wrapped in a heavy fox-fur coat.
"We have reviewed Miller's ledgers," John spoke up, his deep voice filling the quiet room. "He stole over four hundred bags of grain from the lower farms and forced three villages into debt to pay his mercenary fees. Vance enforced those debts with broadswords."
"The stone quarry was mine by town decree!" Vance snarled, his chains rattling loudly as he took a step toward the table. "You have no right to work us in the pits like common horses!"
Gideon took one heavy step forward, his iron boots thundering on the flagstones. "You will speak when the Alpha gives you leave, Vance, or I will put you back in the rock ditch before noon."
Vance shut his mouth, glaring at the floor.
I sat at the head of the oak table, resting my forearms on the wood.
Zoey stood right beside my chair. Her left shoulder was freshly bandaged under her dark leather armor, her short bow slung across her back. She looked pale, but her dark eyes were cold, watchful, and fierce.
Miller cleared his throat, leaning toward the visiting border merchant, Vane-Mark.
"Master Vane-Mark," Miller pleaded, his voice thin and shrill. "You trade with the southern cities! Tell this mountain boy that breaking private trade contracts is illegal under regional law!"
Vane-Mark adjusted his fox-fur collar, looking at Miller with quiet disgust before turning his narrow eyes toward me. He looked at the leather-bound ledgers on the table, then his gaze drifted over to Zoey standing at my right hand.
A condescending smile touched the merchant's lips.
"The contracts are indeed binding, Alpha Klaus," Vane-Mark said, his tone smooth and arrogant. "Miller owes my house two hundred pieces of silver for salt shipments. But more importantly... why is a common scout girl standing at the war table while men of trade discuss valley law? Is this how your pack conducts serious business?"
The hall went dead silent.
Valerius shifted his weight near the door, his hand dropping to his iron bar. Gideon’s jaw tightened.
Before Zoey could even open her mouth to reply, I leaned forward, slamming my flat hand down onto the heavy oak table.
The loud BANG cracked through the room like a pistol shot.
I stood up slowly, my tall frame towering over the table, my dark gaze locking onto Vane-Mark's face. The air in the room instantly turned ice-cold, heavy with a thick, suffocating Alpha pressure that made the merchant's arrogant smile vanish instantly.
"Zoey bled at the river bridge yesterday to keep your trade routes open, Vane-Mark," I said, my voice dropping into a low, lethal growl that made the fox-fur merchant pull back in his chair. "She holds a place at this table because she earned it with steel and blood. If you speak to her with disrespect again, I will strip your pack mules, throw your salt into the ditch, and drag you out of this valley on your back."
Vane-Mark’s face went white as chalk. He swallowed hard, clutching his fur coat tight against his chest, unable to utter another word.
Beside me, I felt Zoey’s gaze snap to my face. Her breathing hitched, her chest rising sharply under her leather chest piece.
I turned my attention back to the prisoners.
"Vance, Miller," I declared, my voice cutting flat through the room. "You will not be executed. Dead men do not rebuild what they destroyed. You will remain at the high quarry under Gideon’s eye. Every stone you break will build the new walls at the crossroads gate. Your silver is confiscated and returned to the village council."
Elder John nodded in firm agreement. The villagers outside cheered, their voices echoing off the stone walls.
"Take them back to the pit," I ordered Valerius.
\---
By nightfall, the manor had cleared out.
The council members had returned to their villages, and the border merchant had agreed to supply raw iron and medical supplies in exchange for safe passage through the pass.
I walked into the quiet map room behind the main hall, unbuckling my broadsword belt and setting it on the long oak table. A single lantern burned near the window, casting long, golden shadows across the stone walls.
The heavy door creaked open behind me.
Zoey stepped into the room, closing the door firmly behind her. Her wool cloak was gone, leaving her in her black tunic and leather pants. Her bandaged shoulder was tight, but her movements were quick and deliberate.
She walked straight up to the side of the table, stopping three inches from my chest.
"I do not need you to fight my battles in front of the council, Klaus," she said, her voice tight, sharp, and laced with hot friction.
I turned to face her, looking down into her dark, stubborn eyes. "He insulted you."
"He was an arrogant merchant trying to throw me off," Zoey spat, her dark eyes flashing with fierce pride as she stepped even closer, crowding my space. "I have killed mercenary captains in the dark. I can handle a fat trader in a fur coat without my Alpha barking threats for me."
"You are my head scout," I said, my voice dropping low as I took a half-step forward, closing the remaining gap between us until her stomach brushed the buckle of my shirt. "And no man speaks to you like you are a servant under my roof."
"It is not about the merchant, Klaus!" she said, her breath catching as she held her ground, her chin tilted high, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. "You do it everywhere! On the high ledge, in the guardroom, in your private quarters—"
"I do it because you belong at my side," I interrupted, my voice dropping into a deep, dark rumble that vibrated through the small room.
Zoey froze.
The sharp argument died on her tongue. The lantern light flickered across her face, highlighting her high cheekbones and the sudden, rapid pulse thumping against the base of her throat.
"What did you say?" she whispered, her voice losing its edge, replaced by a sudden, intense hesitation.
I reached out slowly, wrapping my heavy hand around the back of her neck, my broad fingers sliding into her thick hair. I pulled her half an inch closer, until our chests were pressed tight together, her warm breath washing over my lips.
"You heard me," I murmured, my dark eyes locked onto hers, my thumb tracing the sharp line of her jawline. "You are not just a scout to me, Zoey. And you know it."
Her right hand came up, resting flat against my chest right over my heart. She could feel how hard and fast my pulse was hammering against her palm. She did not push me away. Her fingers dug into the fabric of my shirt, pulling me down toward her as a quiet gasp escaped her lips.
The air between us pulled so tight it felt like a drawn bowstring about to snap. The distance between our mouths was less than an inch, filled with the heat of raw instinct, shared blood, and an unspoken vow that had been building since the day we retook the pass.
"Klaus..." she breathed, her dark eyes softening, searching my face in the dim amber light.
"The war is coming in the spring," I told her, my voice low and fierce against her cheek. "And when we cross that river, you ride beside me. Not behind me."
Zoey let out a long, shaky exhale, her fingers tightening around my shirt as she rested her forehead against the center of my chest for one long, heavy second.
"I will ride beside you," she whispered, looking back up into my eyes with a fierce, burning promise that set my blood on fire. "Always, Alpha."