crown of self-interest

Zaros Valen stood at the apex of his citadel, high above the sprawling lands below. The air was thick with the anticipation of his ascension—a power unlike anything the world had seen in generations. He could feel the pull of the cosmos, the delicate strands of fate and magic converging toward him as if the universe itself recognized his rightful place at its helm. Yet, as he stood there, on the cusp of becoming something far greater than mortal, a rare, fleeting reflection crept into his mind.

The path to this moment had been long, arduous, and fraught with betrayals and hard-won alliances. Zaros never trusted easily, and those who served him did so under no illusions. Loyalty, he knew, was a delicate thread, often fraying when the winds of ambition or fear tugged too hard. It was not out of ignorance that he had gathered his subordinates, but out of necessity. They were tools—useful, powerful tools, but tools nonetheless. And like any tool, they could break or turn against him if not properly handled.

He thought of them now as he stared into the horizon, remembering how each had come into his service, each bound to him by their own desires, their own needs. They had not arrived at his side by chance; it had been through careful calculation on his part, finding those who were not only useful but vulnerable, malleable in ways that allowed him to mold them to his will.

---

It had started with the warrior, years ago, a man who had once led armies in the name of honor. Zaros hadn’t seen much use in honor—it was a weakness, a shackle that bound men to ideals that often led to their downfall. But this man had been different. Betrayed by the very people he had once sworn to protect, he had wandered the world in search of purpose, disillusioned and broken. Zaros had recognized that look in his eyes, the same look that plagued so many who were lost.

When they had crossed paths, it had been almost too easy to plant the seeds of doubt, to show him that the path of righteousness and nobility was a lie. Zaros hadn’t even needed to promise him power, just the opportunity to never be betrayed again. The warrior had followed him since that day, never questioning, always loyal. But Zaros knew that loyalty was born of fear and a hunger for redemption—not of admiration.

Then there was the shadow walker. A woman who had lived her life in the darkness, moving between worlds unseen and unnoticed. She had been the best at what she did—until someone had noticed, and she had been cast out by her own kin. Zaros had found her in the depths of a forgotten city, bitterness and anger fueling her every breath. He had offered her more than a place at his side—he had offered her control. Control over the shadows that had once been her prison, control over her own destiny. It had been a tempting offer, and one she had accepted without hesitation. But even now, Zaros could feel the darkness within her, a constant flicker of doubt, a questioning of whether she had made the right choice.

And the scholar. A man consumed by knowledge, driven mad by the secrets he had uncovered in ancient tomes. When Zaros had found him, the man had been on the brink of insanity, his mind unraveling under the weight of the truths he had unearthed. It had taken time, but Zaros had shown him that there was a way to wield that knowledge without being consumed by it. He had given him clarity, purpose, and in return, the scholar had become one of his most valuable assets. But Zaros knew well the dangers of a mind that was too curious, too hungry for understanding. There was always the risk that the scholar might one day seek to surpass him.

Each of them, in their own way, had been broken. And Zaros had been the one to reshape them, to give them direction, to bind them to him in ways they couldn’t fully comprehend. But now, with his ascension drawing near, he could sense the unease growing among them. They had served him well, but what would they do when they no longer served a man, but a god?

---

The corridors of the citadel were silent as Zaros descended from the heights of the tower. The air felt heavy with magic, as though the stones themselves were whispering in anticipation. His subordinates were gathered below, waiting. He could sense them even before he saw them—each with their own thoughts, their own fears, their own ambitions.

When Zaros entered the chamber, the room fell into a hushed silence. His presence was overwhelming, not because of any physical intimidation, but because of the sheer weight of his power. He said nothing as he took his place at the head of the room, his cold gaze sweeping across the faces of those who had followed him.

They were all there, as expected. The warrior stood tall, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his expression unreadable. The shadow walker lingered in the corners, her form barely visible, watching, waiting. The scholar, ever the eager student, had positioned himself close to Zaros, his eyes wide with the hunger for knowledge that had always driven him. And then there were others, newer recruits to his cause—each of them chosen for their unique talents, each of them bound to him by promises he had made, or threats he had implied.

Zaros spoke, his voice calm, measured, and precise. “The time is nearly upon us. Soon, the ritual will be complete, and we will ascend to a new level of power, one beyond the reach of mere mortals.”

He watched as the words sunk in. Some of them stood a little straighter, eager for the rewards that would surely follow. Others shifted uncomfortably, their expressions betraying their unease. Zaros had always been able to read people—an invaluable skill that had served him well over the years. He could see the doubts festering in the minds of some, the subtle flickers of fear and uncertainty.

And he knew why.

They were afraid of what came next. Not the ascension itself, but what it meant for them. Would they still have a place in his new order? Or would they be cast aside, mere mortals in the presence of a god?

Zaros’s gaze lingered on each of them, one by one, until he spoke again. “You have served me well, all of you. But understand this—when I ascend, the world will change. And with it, so will the balance of power. Some of you may rise with me, while others…” His eyes flicked toward the shadows where the shadow walker lingered, then back to the group. “…may find yourselves irrelevant.”

There it was. The subtle reminder that none of them were indispensable, that loyalty could only take them so far. Zaros had no need to threaten them outright—he knew that fear and uncertainty were far more effective than any direct command. Let them wonder where they stood. Let them question their place in the new world he was creating.

As Zaros’s words hung in the air, he could feel the tension rising in the room. Some of them would remain loyal, of that he had no doubt. But there were others… others who might be considering their own paths, their own futures, separate from his. He could sense it, even if they didn’t dare voice it.

---

Later, as the gathering dispersed, Zaros lingered in the chamber, alone once more. He could still feel the weight of their eyes on him, the questions they didn’t dare ask. And he knew that somewhere among them, a seed of rebellion had already been planted. Perhaps it was one of the newer recruits, or perhaps it was one of the older ones, someone who had grown too comfortable in their role and now feared what the future held. It didn’t matter. Zaros had expected this—planned for it, even.

Betrayal was inevitable. It was the way of the world. But he would be ready for it, just as he had always been.

In the end, they would all learn the same lesson: loyalty, like power, was a currency. And Zaros Valen was a master at ensuring he was always the one in control.