Emrys stared up at Jack, jaw clenched, the press of fur, sweat, and testosterone thick around him like the walls had collapsed too and he had to spend all he was to hold them up. The werewolf’s grin stretched wide and stupid, like he’d just delivered some clever zinger and was waiting for a laugh track. But all Emrys heard was ignorance. For all their posturing and menace, it was clear as glass: they didn’t understand magic. Not really. Jack’s, as he called himself, talk of “vaults” and “wizardly secrets” made it sound like he thought spellcraft came with a combination lock and a user manual. They had no idea what they were actually asking for. They just knew it was powerful, possibly valuable, and they wanted it.

He let that realization settle. It was the first advantage he’d had since the door blew open. If they didn’t know what they were doing, he could use that. He had to. He let the moment breathe, long enough to look like he was weighing something important, when really he was just catching up to the speed of his own heartbeat.

Then he exhaled, slow and steady, just enough to steady his voice, and met Jack’s gaze without flinching.[color=6ea8d6] “You want to get into the vault,”[/color] he said, calm but deliberate, [color=6ea8d6]“you’re going to need me [i]and[/i] my familiar.”[/color]

He raised one hand slightly, palm turned upward, like he was explaining math to a slow student. [color=6ea8d6]“It’s not complicated.”[/color] He began pacing back and forth, just enough to not cause Jack to immediately annihilate him. [color=6ea8d6]“My Master’s protections won’t respond to brute force. They’re layered, alive, even, in a way. And everything he taught me, every ritual, every sequence, every thread of spellwork I’ve learned since, they’re part of the same weave.”[/color] His tone flattened, just slightly, as if even bothering to explain it was beneath him. [color=6ea8d6]“Take my familiar out of the equation, and I’m just someone standing in front of a locked door, about as useful as anyone else you could have dragged in off of the street.”[/color]

It was a bluff. All of it. Complete fabrication. But he delivered it like gospel, the way Elandros always had when explaining some principle Emrys couldn’t yet grasp. And that was the trick, wasn’t it? Magic didn’t come with blueprints. As long as the rules sounded arcane enough, most people would believe them. Especially if they were desperate.

The part that scared him most was that it wasn’t even unbelievable. He didn’t know where the vault was. He didn’t know what it looked like. His master had been secretive to the point of obsession, even with him. If it existed, and he was only kinda sure it did, it could be hidden behind illusion, woven into a wall, tucked inside a ritual phrase he’d heard a dozen times but never understood. The closest thing to a clue might’ve been in Elandros’s study, assuming it hadn’t been buried under six layers of wards he’d never been taught to dispel.

But none of that mattered right now. Not the truth. Not his doubt. Only the image he projected. And right now, that image was this: he was essential. He, and he alone, was the only path forward. And if they hurt or took Quill away, if they broke that link, the whole thing would be lost to them forever.

He didn’t know what the next step was. But as long as they believed he mattered, he still had a piece on the board. And with that, he could play.

[hider=Synopsis]Emrys bluffs his way into bargaining power, claiming only he and his familiar can access the master's vault.[/hider]