In the new house, Martha sat on a low stool, her expression slightly tense.

  Draven asked Martha to stand up and walk a few steps.

  Obediently, Martha rose and tried to take a few steps forward. Her movements were noticeably more fluid than a few days ago. Although there was still a trace of unnatural stiffness, at least she could now walk in a straight line.

  Draven nodded, stepped in front of her, and crouched down, pressing her leg down directly. One hand held her knee while the other pressed along the outside of her thigh, his fingers distinct, applying considerable pressure.

  He claimed he was just inspecting, but no matter how you looked at it, it seemed more like he was taking advantage of her.

  He cleared his throat, pretending to be all seriousness as he continued sliding his thumb along the fascia around her knee, then tapped her shin bone."Good response. No problem."

  Martha instinctively clasped her hands together, her eyes avoiding Draven's.

  Rurik, watching from the side, had eyes lit up with admiration, a grin stretching so wide it nearly split his face.

  "What are you staring at?" Angelica leaned in and pinched him hard on the waist with her fingers.

  Rurik let out a muffled grunt and nearly jumped up. The atmosphere in the room instantly shifted to something quiet and subtly awkward.

  The three Dorian brothers stared at the ceiling beam, the floor, and their own toes respectively, pretending they hadn't seen anything. They didn't care whether their sister had been taken advantage of—as far as they were concerned, her leg really was healed.

  Only Liliana pouted, muttering under her breath,"He's never touched me like that."

  Draven stood up and rubbed his fingers, as if he really had been performing a serious treatment. He cleared his throat again, trying hard to maintain a dignified appearance."The condition is acceptable."

  Martha was stunned, lifting her head to glare at him, eyes wide as if to ask: What exactly do you mean by"acceptable"?

  "I mean the injury," Draven quickly clarified."The leg's healing well. A few more days of rest and you'll be back on your feet with no lasting damage."

  Draven turned to face the Dorian brothers."I've healed your sister's leg. Does your earlier promise still stand?"

  As soon as the words left his mouth, the three brothers dropped to their knees almost in unison. The sound of their knees hitting the floor echoed in the new house.

  "Greetings, Chief!" the three voices rang out in perfect harmony.

  Draven smiled faintly but didn't tell them to rise. After a brief pause, he asked,"Is it just the three of you?"

  Behind them, Martha bit her lip, hesitation flashing in her eyes. Eventually, she stepped forward and knelt beside her brothers, albeit reluctantly.

  "Greetings... Chief..."

  Her voice was much softer, like a whisper carried off by the wind. Her bow was far less decisive than her brothers', tinged with resistance.

  Draven looked at her but said nothing. He reached out, grasping her arm and lifting her directly back to her feet.

  "Alright, get up," he waved his hand and smiled again."The leg's healed, but you still need a few days of rest. Don't push yourself."

  Martha nodded. Though still awkward, she didn't resist.

  Draven turned back to the three brothers, and his tone grew clearly more serious.

  "You three—go find out Bronan's recent whereabouts. Don't make a move yet. Just confirm his location and numbers. Do not expose yourselves. Understood?"

  The brothers' eyes lit up like hounds sensing a hunt. They nodded vigorously.

  "Understood, Chief!" Dorian blurted out, unable to hide his excitement.

  They had thought their mission would be complete once their sister's leg was healed. They hadn't expected the Chief would give them a chance to take revenge. That only deepened their loyalty toward him.

  Martha heard this with a complicated expression. Her lips parted, but she said nothing. She knew Bronan wasn't someone easy to deal with, and her brothers had no idea what they were about to face. But now, there was no stopping them.

  Draven gave her a sidelong glance, satisfied with her reaction. She wasn't interrupting anymore, which meant she understood now: in Black Flag Territory, his word was law.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Rurik had been standing nearby the whole time, eyes shining with hope, clearly begging for a task. Draven, however, shot him a fierce glare.

  Don't even think about it. Stay put and behave!

  Draven turned back and gave the brothers a few more reminders—emphasizing caution and the importance of staying hidden. They nodded eagerly, ready to rush out the door. If it weren't raining outside, they'd likely already be gone.

  Draven waved a hand, signaling for them to sit."Rurik, give them a basic rundown of Black Flag Territory."

  Though the siblings had heard bits and pieces from Angelica, they were still full of curiosity about this place.

  To them, it was the new homeland they had dreamed of. And Draven—the man who had carved this land out of ruin with his own hands—was its creator.

  Martha stole a glance at him, and for the first time, her gaze held a hint of genuine respect. This was a true leader, the kind that people could willingly follow.

  Draven happened to have a rare moment of leisure, just enough time to take care of other matters.

  After sending the idle Liliana off to learn a few money-making tricks from Angelica, Draven finally found himself a moment of peace.

  He sat on a wooden chair and pulled out a thick stack of parchment—intelligence reports painstakingly gathered by Rurik over the past few days. Narrowing his eyes, he silently studied them, fingers trailing lightly over the pages as if etching every word into his mind.

  Beside him, Rurik was still speaking in detail about the overall state of the Black Flag Territory. From population distribution to supply reserves, down to the security levels of each outpost, his report was thorough and precise.

  Martha and her brother listened attentively. Though some of the content was beyond their understanding, their focused expressions were genuine.

  Outside, the rain had gradually stopped. Draven closed the final page of the report and glanced out the window. A faint light was beginning to seep through the sky. He turned his gaze back into the room and gave a small nod.

  "That'll do for now," he said to Rurik.

  The three deerkin brothers seemed to have been waiting for this moment. With the leader's permission, they stood up at once and hurriedly took their leave, bidding Draven a quick farewell.

  A burning urgency flashed in their eyes—they clearly couldn't wait to track down Bronan and avenge their sister's injured leg.

  "Keep a low profile," Draven reminded them."Bronan isn't just some ordinary thug."

  The Dorian brothers nodded, then disappeared into the alleyways.

  "See Martha home," Draven instructed next."Don't let her walk too much—her leg hasn't fully healed yet. I don't want any more trouble."

  Rurik nodded and turned to get Martha ready. She glanced back at Draven, as though wanting to say something, but ultimately sighed and rose silently. She understood her place. She no longer had the standing to give orders to her brothers.

  "I'm coming too!" Liliana suddenly bounced to the door."I still want to sell little trinkets with Bunny Sis!"

  Draven looked at her but said nothing, simply waved a hand in silent approval.

  Once the door closed, the room fell quiet. Draven leaned back in his chair, thoughts drifting. He reviewed the intelligence he had just read. Most of it wasn't particularly troubling, but one detail continued to gnaw at him—the movements of the southern succubi.

  A succubus of lord rank, leading over a thousand elite warriors, had crossed mountains and wastelands to head north and join Selene. No matter how he looked at it, something about that didn't sit right.

  Draven frowned. He couldn't figure it out. If he were that succubus—with the power of a lord and so many clansmen under her—it would've been entirely possible to carve out a new territory of her own.

  And yet, she'd chosen to go to Selene's domain. That behavior was anything but normal.

  He muttered to himself,"What's she really after?"

  Then another thought struck him—Selene wasn't stupid. Surely she had her doubts. Likely earlier than he did.

  The oppression of the blood elves in the south was indeed severe, but that alone couldn't explain everything. Freya, the succubus leader from the south, appeared obedient enough. Her words and actions matched the succubus race's instinct to follow the strong. And that, precisely, was what made her suspicious.

  Selene had certainly not let her guard down. On the surface, she assigned Lydia to closely monitor Freya. Behind the scenes, she had several dark wardens tailing every succubus.

  Even her emissary, Cedric, had already been sent south to dig into Freya's background. By now, Cedric should be returning with news.

  ...

  Selene sat at the center of her castle's grand hall. She had long since received word that the werewolf leader had entered the city. But the fact that he had yet to request an audience irked her slightly.

  "That deer girl—was her leg really healed?" she suddenly asked.

  A low voice answered from the shadows,"Yes. I saw it with my own eyes."

  Selene narrowed her eyes, the corner of her lips curving upward, seemingly pleased with the result. A faint softness entered her expression.

  That werewolf leader, Draven—by all accounts, he was someone worth keeping an eye on.

  He was no ordinary man. If he weren't the demon lord chosen by her Succubus Oath Binding, she likely would've already seen him as a threat to eliminate.

  What troubled her now, however, was that Freya still hadn't performed the Succubus Oath Binding. The absence of a bonded demon lord was increasingly concerning.

  With faith magic, she could conceal the fact that she had already bonded. But a landless Freya wouldn't have that ability.

  Which meant... Freya might not have a demon lord at all—or worse, her demon lord had already been slain by the blood elves?

  Selene's thoughts tangled, her gaze drifting up to the stone chandelier high above the hall. She sat in silence for a long time.

  ...

  Meanwhile, Draven wasn't exactly idle in his new house either. He had laid out several sheets of parchment and some slender wooden strips on the table.

  He was attempting to make a gift with his own hands: an Octagonal Lantern.

  The idea was entirely his own. While not exactly brilliant, he figured that if he wanted to please Selene, something handmade might come across as more sincere.

  He had assumed it would be simple, but once he started, he quickly realized how wrong he was. The wooden strips were stiff and brittle, hard to bend, and prone to snapping. Assembling them resulted in a crooked mess.

  After several frustrating attempts, the frame only grew uglier and more lopsided.

  Draven stared at the misshapen lantern in his hands, his expression darkening. At last, he lost patience, throwing the entire mess to the floor with a growl of frustration.

  "Damn it—who invented this stupid thing?"

  He pressed a hand to his forehead and let out a long sigh. At that moment, he really missed Viola.

  That clever little fox girl always had nimble fingers and a creative mind. She could craft beautiful and practical items on a whim. If she were here, he could simply describe the lantern and she'd have it done in no time.

  He stood up, gazing down at the half-finished pieces strewn across the floor, and suddenly thought of an idea.

  "Didn't Rurik have two bunny girls at home?"

  Draven bent down, gathered the scattered parchment and wood, and stuffed it all into his storage ring in one go.