Elite by Maclaw

Chapter 13

Lady Eleanor Thornton stood at the center of the meeting chambers, the dim light spilling in through the arched windows, casting soft reflections off her black silk gown. The large round desk before her, meticulously carved with the map of Eldoria, spread across the room like a battlefield yet to be conquered. Her advisor, **Aldric**, hovered close, his brow furrowed as he traced a finger along the outer edges of the map, detailing the region surrounding the kingdom.

"As you can see, my Lady, the mansion is bordered by the lake to the south, and behind it, the farmlands stretch beyond the public's reach." Aldric's voice carried the weight of caution. "However, the land near the lake is beginning to die off. Expansion is necessary... yet nearly impossible."

Eleanor's movements were sharp, impatient. She circled the room like a prowling predator, the delicate fabric of her gown brushing against the floor with every calculated step. Her pale skin seemed even more so under the dim light, her eyes hollowed by sleepless nights, the red swelling under them betraying her inner turmoil.

"Impossible?" Her voice cut through the air, brittle and commanding. "Just pay the missionaries, clear the land, and compensate the people. It's not difficult."

Aldric straightened, hands folded behind his back, his face set in a firm expression. "Over sixty houses, my Lady. Residents of the church, minors who cling to the old ways. Forcing them out will only incite protest."

Eleanor stopped abruptly, her sharp gaze locking onto his. "They are cattle," she spat, her voice seething with frustration. "They can be controlled."

Aldric's expression tightened, but he remained composed. "We need their support. If the Elder Council pushes for a vote, and the church aligns with the minors, we could see the church extend its influence for another decade."

A sharp bang rang out as Lady Thornton's fist slammed onto the table, the echoes bouncing off the chamber walls. "The Council will not make such a mistake. I'll ensure it."

At that moment, the door creaked open, and Charles stepped in with deliberate, measured steps, his presence looming like a shadow.

"Not now, Charles," Eleanor snapped without turning to face him, her attention still fixed on the looming map.

"You have a visitor... mother," Charles spoke, his tone sharp, stopping just short of the door.

"I am not interested in seeing anyone," Eleanor began, eyes still locked on the window.

"With those eyes of yours, I'm surprised you can still see at all," came a voice, soft but commanding, laced with the elegance of a figure who knew power well.

The voice sent a chill down Eleanor's spine, causing her to freeze in place. Slowly, deliberately, she turned, her hand trembling ever so slightly as though the devil himself had entered the room.

And there she was—majestic, regal, with an air of timeless authority. The woman who had once been the very definition of Eldoria's rule, now stepped forward with the grace of someone who never quite relinquished control. Her emerald skin glowed in the dim light, her gloved hands smoothing the folds of her gown as she took her seat as if claiming a throne.

"Mother," Eleanor breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, as if her mind was playing tricks on her.

Charles stood frozen beside her, his voice stiff. "I will excuse myself..."

"No," her mother's voice sliced through the air. "You stay. Both of you." She smiled at Eleanor, an unsettling calm radiating from her. "After all, I'm only late to the meeting. So, where were we?"

Silence hung heavy in the chamber, the air crackling with an unspoken tension that no one dared break.

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