Chapter 53: The Gentleman's Bargain

Alejandro de Silva set down his glass of amber liquor, his eyebrows arching in surprise. He leaned forward, a curious gleam in his eye. "A proposal? From Port Vandermir’s most elusive tactical mind? I'm listening."

Zevryn kept his expression impassive, leaning back against the plush booth seating. "The merchant houses are funding a private academy for their sons. I am establishing the curriculum, but my mercenary contracts require me to travel and operate outside the city walls. I need someone of genuine pedigree and lethal skill to act as my substitute instructor when I am away."

Alejandro blinked, processing the offer. "You want me to teach rich merchant scions?"

"It comes with a steady, passive income that will more than fund your lifestyle," Zevryn continued smoothly, "and it offers you a chance to break the monotony. I know you are bored out of your mind with the hollow chatter of high-society gentlemen who have never held real steel in their lives."

Alejandro let out a short, sharp laugh, completely captivated. He stroked his chin, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "You read me entirely too well, Zevryn. The local nobility talk of duels as if they were parlor games. But before I give you my final answer, there is one condition."

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"Name it," Zevryn said.

"We spar," Alejandro declared, tapping his finger against the table. "Win or lose, if I'm going to step into your shoes and train these boys, I need to know firsthand how far I still have to climb to match your edge."

Zevryn offered a faint, thin smile. "Deal."

It was a closed arrangement by the end of the afternoon. Alejandro, starved for genuine venture and sick of the stagnant social scene, jumped at the chance to combine high-end instruction with a front-row seat to Zevryn's rising influence.

Two days later, the operation went live.

There were no flashy signboards hanging above the entrance, no pompous banners declaring a grand academy. Discreet discretion was the core of Zevryn's design. Right beside the safehouse, the adjacent estate, purchased and swiftly renovated by the merchant sponsors, stood ready. The sprawling property had been converted into a high-grade private tutor house for swordcraft and discipline.

Inside the freshly paved courtyard, Julian, Marcus, and the other young scions stood waiting, their postures far straighter than they had been two weeks prior. Reniah moved with silent efficiency, preparing the training gear alongside Xel, while Alejandro de Silva arrived with a swagger of genuine excitement, ready to test the next generation of Vandermir's elite.

The web was cast, the foundation laid, and the shadow academy had officially begun.