Timeless Assassin

Leo listened to everything the elders had to say with a sharp, calculating gaze, his fingers absently curled around the warm porcelain of his tea cup.

He made a genuine effort to keep an open mind and assess their offers pragmatically, reminding himself that his family's safety was on the line and that raw power often came bundled with compromise. But that didn't mean he was naïve enough to buy into everything they were saying.

Not even close.

He could smell their veiled intentions from a mile away.

They wanted him to become the next Dragon of the Cult. That much was clear.

But what wasn't clear, what reeked of omission, was the real reason behind why they were pushing so hard for it to be him and not this so-called Veyr to become Dragon, as Leo refused to believe their reasoning was as noble or simple as "Veyr is unsuitable."

That kind of explanation didn't hold up under scrutiny.

If Veyr was truly unfit, then why was there still a competition? Why allow him to remain a contender at all?

If he was as flawed as they claimed, the Elders Council should have disqualified him outright, and the very fact that Veyr remained in the running told Leo everything he needed to know.

There was more to this story than what the elders were willing to say.

Leo's eyes flicked from one elder to the other, and finally, he leaned back slightly in his chair and spoke.

"So… let me get this straight," he began, taking a slow sip of the fragrant tea, letting the taste linger before setting the cup back on the table. His tone was calm, almost amused, but the steel in his voice was unmistakable.

"I agree to become your Dragon, and in return, you give me everything you just promised. Power, techniques, protection for my family… all of that. But what exactly do I have to do?"

His gaze shifted deliberately between them.

"What does a Dragon actually do on a day-to-day basis? Am I supposed to be some kind of priest, giving sermons and blessing crops? Or am I a warrior for show who goes around putting on exhibitions to boost morale?"

He tilted his head slightly.

"What exactly is it that you expect from me?"

The question, simple though it was, landed like a hammer, making both elders visibly stiffen.

Their previously calm expressions shifted just enough to betray the fact that they had been hoping he wouldn't ask that so directly.

They looked down into their teacups at the same time, as though stalling for the right words. The silence lingered just long enough to feel awkward, until the Twelfth Elder finally spoke, his voice quieter than before.

"The Dragon does whatever the Elders Council requires the Dragon to do," he began cautiously. "That may include public appearances, diplomatic speeches, critical missions into righteous faction territories, and occasionally, leading raids to capture or destabilize hostile planets."

He paused briefly, then continued.

"The exact nature of your tasks will vary. There is no fixed schedule, but you can expect to be assigned to active field missions for somewhere between fifty to a hundred days a year and spend another two hundred or so training under various elders and specialists."

Leo narrowed his eyes. He heard the deliberate vagueness in that answer. The Twelfth Elder was clearly trying to soften the edges of a brutal reality.

"So what you're really saying," Leo replied, his voice cool and edged with mock politeness, "is that I'll be your glorified puppet who is sent on suicide missions when it suits you….. Told to smile and wave for the masses regardless of whether I want to. And be pretty much bound to a life of dancing to the Elder Council's whims….. Am I right?"

The First Elder chuckled, deep and unbothered.

"That's a crude way of putting it," he said, "but yes. That's more or less what the role entails."

His expression remained composed, though there was a flicker of admiration in his eyes, perhaps for Leo's clarity or for his unwillingness to be duped.

"You'll be the face of the Cult. Our symbol. Our sword and shield. You'll be required to act with dignity in public, tact in private, and bear the hopes of billions upon your back. It is a heavy life, yes. A dangerous one. But it has its rewards as well."

Leo exhaled slowly through his nose and gave a humorless smile.

At least the first elder was being somewhat honest now, as oddly, that honesty made him feel slightly more at ease.

He preferred this harsh truth, over false promises any day.

"And I'm guessing the reason you want me to be Dragon," Leo said, locking eyes with the First Elder, "is because you hold no real influence over Aegon Veyr?"

The First Elder didn't blink. He nodded.

"Correct. Veyr is the golden boy of the rival faction within the Elders Council. If he wins, it will severely damage the standing and political influence of both myself and the Twelfth Elder, which is why, that is a future we're determined to prevent, whatever the cost."

The elder's tone had shifted. His mask of politeness had dropped just slightly, revealing a shrewdness and hunger beneath that made Leo instinctively wary.

The fake polite smile was gone, and in its place were sharp, calculating eyes.

Leo said nothing for a long moment. He simply stared back.

So that was it.

They didn't want a Dragon.

They wanted their Dragon.

One they could rely on to further their influence in the council.

One they could parade as their asset.

He wasn't a candidate.

He was a counterweight.

And Veyr… Veyr wasn't just some reckless genius with bad morals. He was the figurehead of the opposite side in this cold war.

Leo understood now.

This wasn't just politics.

It was a power struggle wrapped in tradition and bloodlines.

And he had just been tossed into the very heart of it.

"Interesting….Very, Very interesting," Leo said at last, as he saw the Golden Aura of Fate burst out of the First Elder at this moment, the thick aura enveloping them both.

'Seems like I'm at a crossroads yet again,'