NOVGO.NET Chapter 517: Bold Moves, Soft Words
Chapter 517: Bold Moves, Soft Words
The skyline of Sector Three shimmered like a lake of suspended starlight, its web of neon arteries casting glows across the tinted glass walls of the sky-rise restaurant. Hover-vehicles hummed faintly below, and the air up here, hundreds of stories above the city floor, was crisp and subtly perfumed with synthesized floral traces.
Alister sat back in a sleek black chair, one leg crossed over the other, a half-empty glass of dark wine in hand. He gazed out through the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the clouds drift lazily past. His golden eyes were calm. Serene.
Across from him, Anya gently lowered her menu.
“You know,” she said, twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers, “witnessing a public execution and actually going for dinner right after has to be one of the strangest transitions I’ve ever made in my life.”
Alister blinked once, then turned his attention to her.
“It’s all about compartmentalization,” he said, swirling the wine in his glass as if it were a metaphor in motion. “Some things belong to the battlefield. Others… to the table.”
Anya leaned her chin on her palm, elbow propped neatly against the polished surface between them. “Most people I know would’ve lost their appetite.”
“You’re not most people,” Alister replied simply, his gaze lingering on her for a beat longer than necessary. “And neither am I.”
A quiet chuckle escaped her. “Mm. I suppose that’s true.”
Her eyes lingered on his—those steady, unwavering pools of gold that hadn’t flinched once during the execution earlier. That calm didn’t disturb her. If anything, it fascinated her. The way he didn’t unravel, not even when drenched in tension and blood. The way he could walk from wrath into warmth without a single thread out of place.
“I’ll admit,” she said, tapping her finger thoughtfully against the rim of her glass, “there’s a kind of… admirable consistency in how unshakable you are.”
Alister arched a brow slightly. “Admirable?”
Anya nodded. “You don’t flinch. Not in battle. Not in diplomacy. Not even when your dragons spook half the city’s elites into wetting themselves on live broadcast.”
Alister gave a quiet hum of amusement, setting his wine glass down with a soft clink.
“It’s not that I’m unshakable, per se…” he said, his tone calm but laced with a faint edge of honesty. “It’s just that my face doesn’t usually give away the thoughts on my mind.”
He leaned back a little further, fingers steepling loosely before him.
“Not saying I’m some kind of poker-faced monster. I get surprised too, just… maybe not as visibly.”
Anya tilted her head, studying him with the same mild curiosity she might give a puzzle box with one too many locks.
“So under that perfectly sculpted calm,” she said, “there’s actually panic sometimes?”
Alister gave a soft chuckle, the sound low and almost dry, but not without warmth.
“Panic is a strong word,” he said, his golden eyes drifting toward the window again. “Let’s say… uncertainty. Urgency. But these days…” He swirled the remnants of wine in his glass, watching the liquid catch the light. “I could also say I’m burdened by possibility.”
Anya’s gaze didn’t waver. “Possibility?” she echoed, brow arching as she reached for her drink. “That’s a strangely poetic way to describe pressure.”
He nodded once. “Every move I make has the potential to reshape things. Reshape people. That includes the enemies I make and the allies I stand to lose.” He tilted his head, expression unreadable. “Sometimes, the pressure isn’t in making the ’right’ choice. It’s in knowing that no matter what I choose, I change something forever.”
A pause.
Anya leaned forward, resting her arms lightly on the table.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” she said, voice low and sincere, “what is it you’re trying to gain by doing all this?”
Alister’s smile was faint—barely there—but it lingered as he turned his gaze back to the window, eyes glinting with gold reflections of Sector Three’s skyline.
“As crazy as it might sound,” he said quietly, “all I want is peace.”
Anya tilted her head slightly, watching him without interrupting.
“I want those who rely on me… those I care about… to live without fear,” he continued. “Without some cosmic target painted across their backs, without the weight of prophecies or bloodlines or ancient grudges breathing down their necks.”
He swirled his wine one final time, then set the glass aside completely.
“It’s unfortunate, really,” he said, his voice calm, almost resigned.
“That in order to carve out that peace, I have to walk through the flames of war and chaos. But I’ll do it. Again and again, if I must. Because peace bought through suffering is still peace.
It may unfortunately cost the lives of those who chose to stand in my way, but I owe it to the people who rely on me to carve out such a path regardless.
Besides, what sort of man turns his back on fools who have chosen to jeopardize the lives of those he has sworn to protect?”
Anya laughed softly, surprised at his words.
“That was a wonderful speech,” she said, leaning back in her seat with a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Truly. Moving. I’m sure the historians would eat it up centuries from now.”
She twirled the base of her wine glass between her fingers, her tone turning ever so slightly coy.
“Butttt… that wasn’t what I was referring to.”
Alister raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of amusement flashing across his face.
Anya tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “I wasn’t asking why you’re doing all this. I was asking what exactly you’re planning.”
She gave a small shrug, as if to say don’t blame me for asking.
“Because the way I see it, you didn’t just publicly execute a high-value prisoner. You made sure the entire sector saw it. You. You’re making bold moves and ruffling all the right feathers—so tell me, boy~friend.”
She leaned in slightly, voice lowering just a touch.
“What are you really setting in motion?”