home

search

Chapter 36. The Cost Of Control

  Chapter 36 – The Cost of Control

  “Turn around,” Trenholm commanded, his voice sharp and unwavering.

  Raven slowly turned, facing the captain with a cautious gaze. The man’s rifle was already raised, aimed straight at him.

  “What’s this, then?” Trenholm sneered, stepping forward. “You and that woman trying to pull a fast one on me, huh?”

  Raven remained silent, his mind racing for a way out. The dim glow of the sink stone pulsed behind him, its presence filling the room with a faint energy that made the hairs on his arms stand on end.

  Trenholm stepped closer, his free hand pressing against the stone. His brow furrowed in confusion.

  “What’s an ether sink? And why does it say you own it?” His voice was tense, laced with something Raven now recognised as desperation. “Answer me, you fool. Don’t you people understand? The world is falling apart. If someone doesn’t take charge, it’ll all crumble!”

  Raven’s stance shifted slightly as he pieced it together. This wasn’t just a control freak trying to hoard power— Trenholm was a man who had lost control of everything and was clawing at the last thing he could hold onto.

  Raven exhaled slowly. He had to be careful.

  “It’s a resource,” he said carefully. “A way to create shelter, food—if used correctly. The system may say I own it, but I planned to give full control to Lisa once we got back.”

  “You will do no such thing,” Trenholm snapped, his grip tightening around the rifle. “You’ll give control to me. I’ll decide how to proceed from here.”

  Raven didn’t miss the way Trenholm’s finger hovered near the trigger.

  “If you don’t…” Trenholm’s voice dropped to a growl. “I’ll kill you and see if that ends your ownership.”

  Silence thickened between them.

  Raven’s pulse pounded in his ears. He could feel his ether replenishing rapidly, the proximity to the sink refuelling him, but even with that advantage, a wrong move could end in a bullet ripping through his chest.

  He needed to buy time.

  “What do you think you can do with it that Lisa can’t?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

  Trenholm scoffed. “That woman is a politician. She doesn’t understand what it takes to survive. She can’t make the hard decisions.” His eyes were wild, his pupils blown wide. “Now give me control. Or I shoot.”

  Raven tensed, ready to bolt. Could he phase fast enough? Would Trenholm get a shot off before he disappeared? He had seconds to decide—

  Thud. Someone landed at the base of the stairs.

  Dillon.

  The scout’s crossbow was raised, aimed straight at Trenholm’s head.

  “Captain,” Dillon said calmly, “I regret to inform you that your men have been taken prisoner by the scouts. Lower your weapon and surrender. This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.”

  Trenholm’s expression twisted into something monstrous.

  “How dare you,” he seethed. “I am an officer of the military! Stand down, civilian, or I will shoot!”

  Dillon didn’t budge. “Your weapon. Now.”

  Trenholm roared, a sound of pure rage, and pulled the trigger—

  Click.

  A misfire.

  Trenholm’s eyes widened in shock, and before he could recover, a crossbow bolt struck his shoulder. He staggered backward, gasping in pain.

  Raven was on him in an instant. Grabbing Trenholm’s rifle, he tossed it across the room. Dillon stepped forward, securing the downed captain’s arms as Raven quickly bound them.

  Trenholm thrashed against his restraints, his face twisted in fury.

  “You’re making a mistake!” he spat. “You think she’ll lead you to salvation? She’ll get you all killed!”

  Raven ignored him. He and Dillon hauled Trenholm to his feet and began the trek upstairs.

  There would be questions. There would be fallout.

  But for now, Trenholm was no longer in control.

  As the survivors trudged back to the town hall, they were a ragged, bloodied shadow of the force that had set out. The weight of loss was etched into every exhausted face. Of the fifty soldiers who had marched towards the fort, only two dozen remained. The moment their guns had failed had been catastrophic, a brutal reminder that modern weapons weren’t the answer to this world’s horrors.

  The scouts had fared better. They had lost nine, still a tragedy, but their skills had kept them alive in a way brute force alone never could.

  The returning soldiers were quietly escorted to a secured building near the town hall, kept out of sight of the nearest barricades. Until Lisa announced the change in leadership, there was no telling how the military faction would react. Civil strife was still a very real threat, and if Trenholm still had supporters, it could turn bloody fast.

  A dozen scouts—Raven among them—continued forward, approaching the main entrance of the town hall.

  They were stopped at a checkpoint. A soldier in ragged uniform eyed them warily, hand resting on his rifle.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Where's the rest of them?"

  Dillon didn’t miss a beat. "Securing the location." His tone was smooth, confident—not a trace of hesitation.

  The guard studied them for a moment before nodding and waving them through. No further questions.

  Raven suppressed a sigh of relief. But his nerves didn’t settle. Not yet.

  As they climbed the steps to the town hall, the weight of what they had done pressed down on him.

  Trenholm was out.

  Lisa was in.

  But was that actually better for him?

  He’d just openly sided against the captain of the military presence here. Would Lisa see him as a necessary ally, or an expendable tool?

  She didn’t need him alive.

  And if she chose to eliminate him, could he escape? There were too many skill users here, too many trained scouts and surviving soldiers. He wasn’t sure even his phasing ability could get him out.

  His hand subconsciously drifted towards his dagger as they entered the town hall.

  Lisa stood at the far end of the main chamber. The tension in her shoulders melted into relief as the group entered, and she exhaled slowly.

  "Tell me it’s done."

  Dillon nodded. " Trenholm has been secured. His men are contained. The fort is ours."

  Lisa closed her eyes for a moment before nodding. "Good. That’s…good."

  Raven’s gaze snapped to the side.

  Carlos.

  And beside him—the officer from their scouting group.

  Unrestrained.

  Were they here as a gesture of goodwill? A show of trust? Or was Lisa sending a message?

  He had no way of knowing. But as he stood before the new leader of this city, tension coiled in his gut.

  He wasn’t safe yet.

  Would she see him as an asset… or a liability?

  Lisa listened intently as Dillon wrapped up his report, nodding along as he detailed the casualties, the state of the surviving soldiers, and the scouts’ success in the battle. When he finally finished, she let out a slow breath, her sharp eyes scanning the gathered group.

  "Thank you, Dillon," she said, offering a small but sincere smile. "You and your people have done this city a great service. We’ll hold a service for the fallen soon, ensure their sacrifices are remembered properly."

  Dillon dipped his head, accepting her words, and Lisa turned her attention to the others.

  "For now, I need to speak with Raven. The rest of you, get some rest. We’ve got work ahead of us."

  The hall slowly emptied, soldiers and scouts alike filing out, murmuring quietly amongst themselves. Dillon was the last to leave, throwing Raven a glance before disappearing through the doors, leaving him alone with Lisa.

  The heavy doors shut behind them, sealing them in the dimly lit chamber.

  Lisa folded her arms, giving him a wry smile. "We have a lot to talk about, young man."

  Despite the casual tone, Raven could still feel the weight of the moment. The battle was over, but his true test had only just begun.

  Before she could continue, he cut in.

  "Are my friends and I free to go?" His voice was even, but firm.

  Lisa chuckled, shaking her head. "Not just yet."

  Raven felt his muscles tense, but she lifted a hand in reassurance.

  "You made me a promise," she continued. "Control of the sink, once all of this was done and dusted. It’s time to pay up."

  Raven nodded slowly, exhaling through his nose. He had no intention of going back on his word—he would keep his promise. But what exactly did giving control look like?

  He’d given Wilkes full access to the hospital sink, trusting him with everything. Did he want to do the same here?

  Or should he restrict her access?

  What if, in the future, the hospital and the tavern sink ended up at odds? What if resources became scarce? What if Lisa had to choose between her people and Wilkes’?

  Would she turn her back on him?

  Or worse… would she see him as a threat?

  He hesitated.

  Lisa watched him carefully, waiting.

  Finally, he made his decision.

  "I can’t give you ownership," he said slowly, watching her reaction. "But I’ll grant you full access, enough to create food, water, weapons, whatever your people need to survive."

  Lisa’s expression remained neutral, unreadable for a long moment. Then, she smiled a real one this time, small but approving.

  "Smart," she murmured. "I can work with that."

  Raven let out a breath, feeling some of the weight lift off his shoulders.

  For now, at least, they were on the same side.

  The afternoon sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the town hall as people gathered in the plaza. The crowd was tense, expectant, murmurs spreading through the mass of soldiers, scouts, and civilians alike. Raven stood near the edge, watching as Lisa stepped up onto the hastily constructed podium. A breeze carried the lingering smell of gunpowder and blood, a reminder of the cost of the day's victory.

  A momentary look of weariness crossed her face as she looked out at the crowd before her, she needed to do this it was for their future.

  Lisa's voice carried over the crowd, strong and unwavering.

  "We stand here today because of the sacrifices of the brave—men and women who gave their lives to push back the darkness, to secure hope for the future."

  The crowd listened in silence, some heads bowed, others watching her with wary eyes.

  "We have suffered losses," she continued, her tone softer now, "But we have also won something important. Today, we take our first real step towards survival."

  A murmur rippled through the crowd at that, but Raven saw it—the soldiers, standing in clusters, shifting uncomfortably. Their eyes darted toward one another, hands twitching toward their weapons.

  Lisa took a breath, then pressed on.

  "I have claimed command of this camp," she said firmly. "Captain Trenholm is no longer in charge."

  That got a reaction.

  "Where's Trenholm?" one of the soldiers yelled.

  Some soldiers stiffened, others exchanged sharp glances, and a few began to subtly form up near each other. It was instinct, Raven could tell—years of discipline and training pulling them together. A line was about to be drawn.

  Before they could act, scouts moved in. Silent, efficient, stepping into place behind the forming groups before they even realized they’d been surrounded.

  Lisa continued as if she hadn’t noticed.

  "This is not about power. This is about stability. We cannot afford disarray. We cannot afford division. Until we have a secure food source, water, and proper shelter, we must stand together.

  "We have a means to accomplish stability, but until we are at that point"

  "Dissent will be met with imprisonment. Violence will be met with death."

  The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, it felt as if the entire camp was holding its breath.

  Then, slowly, the crowd began to break apart.

  Some people looked relieved, others disgruntled, but no one acted out. Even the soldiers, despite their anger, didn't resist as the scouts began pulling aside the ones who had moved to group together.

  They were escorted away, taken to the holding cells, where they would be questioned.

  Raven let out a slow breath.

  Lisa had won this round.

  As the crowd thinned, Raven found himself wondering if the established order would hold. He made his way to the town hall where he had another meeting scheduled with Lisa, they huddled in her office, pouring over plans for the tavern.

  She leaned forward, tapping her fingers against the wooden table. "So, tell me exactly what I need to do."

  Raven sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair.

  "First thing’s first—you need to get a shop and buy a book on ether control," he explained. "You’ve got the sink now, which means you can generate food, water, shelter, but the costs add up fast. You’ll want to prioritise—basic housing, food farms, and some way to arm your people, guns don’t seem to work well anymore."

  Lisa nodded, already taking notes.

  They talked for hours, going over potential defences, the best ways to integrate the sink without drawing too much attention, and how to keep Seymour's supporters from causing trouble.

  By the time they were done, it was late into the night.

  Raven felt exhaustion creeping in, his body aching from the long day. Lisa stood, stretching, and nodded toward the door.

  "You should get some rest," she said. "We’ll go over more tomorrow."

  Raven didn’t argue.

  He found his way to a tent, surprised to see Carlos already there, sprawled out on a cot, snoring lightly. The camp was quieter now, save for the occasional distant voices of guards on patrol.

  Raven barely made it to his own cot before his body gave out, his exhaustion making itself known.

  As soon as his head hit the pillow, sleep claimed him.

  The last thought that drifted through his mind was not of the battle or of Trenholm’s betrayal—but of the hospital.

  And Anny.

  He smiled to himself.

  Tomorrow, he would finally go home.

Recommended Popular Novels