Ashes of Devotion

A Battle of Wits

The morning sun streamed through the vast windows of the Winchester dining hall, casting long shadows across the polished marble floors. The scent of spiced tea, roasted meats, and fresh bread filled the room, but the warmth in the air did little to thaw the tension crackling beneath the surface. Breakfast had begun smoothly enough, exchanges of pleasantries, discussions of trade, the thinly veiled attempts at feeling out the other’s position. But that civility had lasted only so long.

The conversation took a sharper turn, the air thickening with every calculated word exchanged between Daniel and Lord Winchester. It was no longer just a discussion; it had become a duel of intellect, a battle of wits and veiled threats where neither side was willing to blink first.

"Surely, Lord Blackwood, you do not mean to suggest that old money and established power are lesser than… shall we say, new ambition?" Lord Winchester’s voice was measured, each syllable deliberate, but the glint in his eye was anything but friendly. "It is a rather naïve assumption to believe that mere cunning can overthrow generations of legacy."

Daniel leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table, fingers toying with the edge of his untouched goblet of wine. His smirk was almost imperceptible. "Legacy, Lord Winchester, is only as valuable as the power it holds in the present. A name, no matter how old, is worth nothing if the world around it has moved on." His tone was light, almost conversational, but the weight behind his words was unmistakable.

Lady Winchester set her silverware down delicately, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "And yet, it is legacy that dictates influence. One does not simply buy respect."

Daniel allowed a small chuckle to escape him, his eyes sharp. "Respect is not inherited, my lady. It is earned." He let the words settle before continuing, "And influence? Influence shifts. The truly powerful are those who know how to adapt."

Lord Winchester’s expression remained composed, but the tension in his jaw gave him away. "You speak like a man who has not yet learned the cost of defying tradition."

Daniel tilted his head slightly, taking a slow sip from his goblet before replying, "And you speak like a man who has not yet learned that tradition alone is no longer enough to keep hold of an empire."

The silence that followed was deafening. The servants moving about the room took note of it, their movements slowing as they tried to make themselves invisible. The air between them felt charged, the kind of pressure that built before the break of a storm. Lord Winchester’s grip tightened on his glass, and Lady Winchester’s lips parted slightly, as if weighing whether to respond.

It was Hale who finally stepped in, placing a hand on Daniel’s arm with deliberate ease, his voice breaking the silence with an exaggerated sigh. "Gentlemen, ladies, please, let us not let philosophy ruin a perfectly good breakfast. We wouldn’t want to upset the cooks, now would we?"

The joke was enough to cut through the tension, and after a pause, Lady Winchester let out a faint, amused chuckle. Lord Winchester exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "A dangerous mind you have, Lord Blackwood. But perhaps there is something to be said for ambition after all."

The atmosphere shifted, the sharp edges of their exchange dulled by the thin veil of civility being reestablished. They finished the meal with restrained politeness, but the damage had already been done, both sides had tested the waters, and neither had blinked.

As Daniel and his men took their leave, making their way back to the outhouse, the air was still heavy with the unspoken.

Meanwhile, back in the Winchester hall, the Lord and Lady sat in silence for a long moment before finally speaking.

"He’s too clever," Lady Winchester murmured, tapping her fingers against the table. "He didn’t flinch."

Lord Winchester exhaled. "No. And that is precisely why we will have him watched."

He turned to one of his disguised spies, a servant standing at the far end of the room. "Follow them. Listen to everything. I want a complete record of their conversations, movements, every word they speak while they are here."

The spy gave a short nod before vanishing through the servants’ passage.

Lord Winchester turned back to his wife. "We need to know exactly who we’re dealing with. And more importantly… what he wants."

Lady Winchester picked up her wine glass and took a slow sip, her gaze lingering on the door where Daniel had exited. "And if we don’t like the answer?"

Lord Winchester’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. "Then we deal with him accordingly."

The morning air outside was crisp, the cold biting against Daniel’s skin as he and his men strode back toward their quarters. Hale, walking beside him, let out a low whistle. "Well, that was quite the battle, Captain."

Daniel exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "They were testing me."

"They were trying to break you," Hale corrected. "And they failed."

Daniel smirked slightly. "That’s what worries them the most."

As they reached the outhouse, Daniel slowed his steps, his instincts flaring. He could feel it, eyes on them. Someone was watching.

He turned his head ever so slightly, catching a figure in the distance. A servant? No, too careful, too poised.

A spy.

Daniel’s expression remained unreadable, but inside, a slow realization settled in. The game had begun in earnest now. And if the Winchesters wanted to play, then he would ensure he was the one dictating the rules.

The night would be long. Plans needed to be made. And Daniel Blackwood never lost a game of strategy.