Taking Control!

Alfie stood in stunned silence, his mind a whirl of confusion and disbelief. The weight of the events around him seemed to press down, suffocating him. Reggie was dead. His own flesh and blood, killed without hesitation. And now, here he was, standing before Harry, the man who had just taken everything from him, yet now seemed to offer him a chance to leave.

Harry, on the other hand, was anything but frozen in shock. His calm demeanor and composed posture betrayed no trace of the violence he had just unleashed. He looked at Alfie with something that could almost be described as pity, but there was no warmth in his eyes, just an unsettling calm.

"Go back now. Leave. Go," Harry said, his voice soft, almost like an order but veiled in the gentlest of tones.

Alfie blinked in disbelief. "You're… you're going to let me go?" His words were slow, incredulous, as if testing the sincerity of the offer.

Harry tilted his head slightly, studying Alfie's face with something like a quiet amusement. "Yes," he replied. "I'm letting you go. But don't mistake that for kindness."

Al's gaze flickered between Harry's expression and the bloody scene around them. Reggie's headless corpse was a grim reminder of just how ruthless Harry could be. And yet, he was offering him a way out?

Al's thoughts churned. 'Why?' After everything that had happened, after the murder of his own brother; why was Harry letting him live? The pieces didn't fit. And yet, Alfie couldn't help but wonder. If there had been even a sliver of hope left for their bond as brothers, it had long since evaporated.

"The competition between brothers is far more vicious than between enemies," Alfie thought bitterly. The fight for land, power, and titles was ruthless, and now, with Reggie dead, there was nothing standing between Harry and the inheritance. With his strength, Harry would be untouchable. Even Baron Ethan, if he ever returned, would find it impossible to challenge his son's claim to the title of Lord.

Alfie looked at Harry again, suspicion thick in his gaze. "You think I'll just walk away like this?" He didn't say it aloud, but the thought was clear in his mind. 'If I leave, will you just wait until I'm no longer useful, or worse… come after me too?'

Harry saw the doubt in Alfie's eyes, and for a brief moment, he looked almost tired. A sigh escaped him as he spoke, shaking his head. "Don't look at me like that," he said, his voice carrying a trace of weariness. "I'm not as bad as you think."

Al's eyes narrowed. 'What did that mean?'

Harry continued, his tone almost casual now. "To be honest, even if it was Reggie in your place, I might've let him go too, if he'd shown some sense. But—" He paused, looking almost nostalgic for a moment. "What a pity. He didn't take his chance."

Alfie stayed silent, absorbing Harry's words, but the contradiction was hard to ignore. 'Reggie?' Alfie thought. 'Let him go?' The image of his brother's decapitated body still haunted him. How could Harry say something like that now? There was no sincerity in it. It was a hollow claim, an attempt to soothe whatever twisted justification Harry had made for murdering his own flesh and blood.

Harry must have sensed the disbelief still radiating off Alfie, because he chuckled softly, the sound almost mocking. "I know what you're thinking." He raised a hand, dismissing any further protest. "I guess you won't believe anything I say now, will you?"

Alfie opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. His mind was still trying to catch up with the reality of the situation. Was this some kind of sick game? Was Harry just toying with him before finishing him off too?

Harry's voice cut through the fog of Alfie's thoughts, almost gentle now. "Don't worry. I won't kill you. I've said it, and I'll stick to it. After all, you're still my brother, even if that doesn't mean much anymore."

The words were hollow, empty. Alfie could feel them settle in his chest like lead. Still, he didn't know how to respond. His entire life had been upended in the span of hours. His family, his future, everything he thought he knew, it was all shattered.

Harry's eyes grew colder. "But when you go back, Alfie, tell Madam Glenda this for me: the debt is due. She owes me something, and now, it's time to collect."

Al's brow furrowed. "What do you mean? What debt?" His voice trembled slightly, the confusion evident.

Harry didn't answer directly. Instead, he gave a half-shrug and waved his hand dismissively. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Before Alfie could respond, several of Harry's guards appeared at the door, stepping into the room with disciplined precision. They were ready to escort Alfie out, just as Harry had instructed.

Alfie glanced one last time at his brother, the man who had just killed his own kin, a man who had claimed his birthright in blood. Alfie stood there, torn between a sense of duty to his family and the overwhelming desire to flee from the nightmare that had unfolded. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came. Finally, he turned on his heel, feeling a strange emptiness settle in his chest.

As Alfie walked toward the door, he hesitated, as if some instinct told him to look back, but when he did, Harry's figure remained unmoving. He could only see the cold glint in Harry's eyes, his lips twitching upward in the faintest of smiles, but there was no warmth in it, only a promise of things to come.

The heavy door closed behind him with a soft thud.

Harry remained standing in the same spot, staring at the space Alfie had vacated. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, but then he was brought back to the present by the voice of his attendant.

"What is Lord Harry laughing at?" the attendant asked respectfully, eyes narrowed with curiosity.

Harry chuckled, though the sound was laced with something darker. "I'm feeling sentimental," he said, a wistful expression crossing his face. "Madam Glenda, for all her faults, has raised a good son."

The attendant, who had been paying attention, seemed to catch the meaning behind Harry's words. His eyes widened. "Master Harry means that Master Alfie is a big threat?"

Harry's smile didn't fade, but the sharpness in his gaze grew. "What are you suggesting?" His voice was playful, yet dangerously so. "Are you encouraging me to kill my brother?"

The attendant hesitated, realizing he had misstepped. "No, Master Harry, of course not. I only meant that—"

Harry held up a hand, silencing him. "It's fine," he said, his tone almost casual now. "But don't misunderstand me. I'm not in a hurry. Let Alfie live for now." His smile turned thin, predatory. "He might just prove useful after all."

The attendant nodded quickly, understanding the implication. Harry's mind was always moving, always calculating. And though he was letting Alfie go for now, it didn't mean the young man would be spared forever.

In the silence that followed, Harry turned his gaze back to the now-empty doorway. A storm was coming, and in his hands, the world would bend to his will.

Harry's gaze lingered on the attendant before him, his eyes cold and calculating. The servant flinched under the weight of the stare, and before he could stop himself, he dropped to his knees and began kowtowing rapidly, his forehead tapping the floor with each desperate gesture.

"Please, forgive me, Lord Harry! I didn't mean—" the attendant stammered, his voice trembling.

"Okay, get up," Harry interrupted, his tone as smooth and dispassionate as ever. "No need for theatrics."

The attendant slowly rose to his feet, wiping the sweat from his brow as he straightened. Relieved, he nodded quickly.

"While everyone is here," Harry continued, his voice now sharp with authority, "take control of this place. Don't make a scene. We don't want to disturb the others."

The attendant nodded again, eager to obey. "Yes, Master Harry. Right away."

With a final bow, the servant turned and hurried off, leaving Harry standing alone in the hall, watching the unfolding chaos with an almost detached interest.

---

Outside, Alfie stepped out of the hall, still trying to process the whirlwind of events. The air felt strangely lighter, and only when he was well clear of the manor's gates did he allow himself a moment to breathe.

'Harry didn't kill me. Not yet anyway,' Alfie thought, feeling a mix of relief and unease. But the relief was fleeting. The truth was, Harry's mercy could be more dangerous than any knife to the throat.

He paused for a moment, taking in his surroundings. His mind tried to make sense of the rapid changes in the manor. Everywhere he looked, he saw Harry's men, soldiers and attendants alike, working efficiently, taking control. They were securing the places that had once been Reggie's. The granaries, the armories, even the barracks were quickly being locked down, all under Harry's orders.

But what struck Alfie the most wasn't the speed with which Harry's men were seizing control. It was the eerie orderliness of it all.

In situations like these, chaos was the norm. In other territories, a sudden power shift like this would usually be marked by bloodshed and anarchy, pillaging, burning, and looting. But not here. There was no looting, no fires raging in the background. The soldiers moved with a quiet, military discipline, quickly replacing Reggie's loyal men with Harry's own.

The men who had once served under Reggie, some of them veterans, others young recruits; stood by now, their heads down, silent. Their armor and weapons had been stripped from them, but there was no resistance. No one made a sound. It was clear that most had already accepted their fate. Some of them were even nodding as they were led away, their submission almost passive, as if they had already resigned themselves to Harry's power.

Alfie observed them carefully. These men had been Reggie's men, the ones who swore their loyalty to him, who followed him into battle, believed in his cause. Now they were reduced to this, no more than prisoners in their own home. Their eyes told the story. They knew they were safe from Harry's wrath. After all, Harry was family. And there was something in his demeanor that commanded respect.

Yet Alfie couldn't help but notice how effortlessly Harry had taken control. The soldiers, many of whom were knight apprentices or seasoned fighters, could tell that Harry wasn't just playing at being a leader. 'He's the real deal,' Alfie thought, feeling a creeping unease. 'This man is no longer just the son of Baron Ethan. He is something far more dangerous.'

Harry had a reputation in the area for his discipline, but Alfie hadn't truly grasped the extent of it until now. His brother had been gone for a while, off hunting and dealing with other matters, but now that he was back, the transformation was clear. Harry had somehow gained not just strength but a form of unquestioned loyalty from those who served him. 'How did he do it so quickly?'

Al's thoughts were interrupted as he glanced over at the granaries. The doors were being shut, and Harry's men moved in with smooth efficiency. Even the kitchen staff had been replaced without so much as a complaint.

There was no sign of the disorder Alfie had expected. No sounds of drunken brawls or petty squabbles between the new guards. Instead, everything seemed perfectly coordinated, as though Harry had already been running this place for years.

Harry had gained control of the manor in a way that Alfie couldn't help but envy. The true power wasn't just in Harry's strength or his knowledge, it was in his ability to make others follow him, to bend them to his will.

Alfie stood still for a moment longer, watching as Harry's men moved into place, and the last remnants of Reggie's rule quietly crumbled. But just as quickly, a servant appeared with a horse, bringing Alfie back to the present.

"Master Alfie," the servant said, bowing low. "Your horse is ready."

Alfie nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The weight of the events in the manor hung heavy on him. He glanced back at the now-calm manor, and for the briefest of moments, he wondered what would happen next. Was Harry truly going to let him go? Or was this just another step in his brother's master plan?

But the questions didn't matter now. Alfie mounted the horse without hesitation, ready to leave the place that had been his home for so long. The sound of hooves echoed in the air as he rode away, his thoughts still a tangle of confusion and fear.