Gluttony's Punishment

Prologue - 299 Years Ago

Gluttony Councilor Forest West

The carriage stops in front of a moss-covered cottage.

I stare out the window at the aging wooden structure surrounded by overgrown brush and untamed wilderness, convinced for a moment that my driver has made a mistake.

“Why are we here?” I demand.

The valet remains still beside the carriage door, clearly trained not to react to the irritation of those above his station.

“This is where Councilor Evander instructed me to take you, my lord.”

I look back toward the cottage.

What is Ellias playing at?

I have dealt with Sloth Councilor's peculiarities for years. I have learned that patience is required when dealing with the man. He does not concern himself with appearances, reputation, or the endless political games the rest of us have mastered.

While the rest of us built alliances, expanded our influence, and secured our factions’ futures, Ellias buried himself among dusty books and forgotten relics.

I have called him stuck in the past more than once. The rest of the Council calls him unsettling.

Neither assessment is entirely incorrect.

Still, when it comes down to it, I’m confident I am the closest thing he has to an ally because I am the only one who has mastered the patience.

It’s worth it to have another vote thrown my way.

But this unusual request bothers me. Ellias does not summon people or ask for favors.

He has spent decades content to sit in his corner of the Council chamber, observing while the rest of us argue and negotiate. A man who has spent his entire life avoiding attention does not suddenly request a private meeting without reason.

I step out of the carriage and immediately regret my decision to wear my finer clothing.

The path leading toward the cottage is barely a path at all. The grass has grown wild, branches hang low over the walkway, and it looks as though someone abandoned the entire property decades ago.

My boots sink into the uneven ground as thorns catch the fabric of my trousers, pulling against the expensive material.

“This had better be worth my time,” I mutter.

I continue toward the cottage, brushing dirt from my sleeve as I approach.

The entire situation is absurd.

The wooden door opens before I knock.

“Forest, you’re here. Good. Good. Come in.”

I am more surprised that Councilor Evander answers the door himself than I am by the state of the man standing before me.

He looks as if he has aged decades since our last Council meeting.

His skin is pale and wrinkled; his fingers stained black from years of handling relics and materials that most sensible people would never touch without protective gloves.

Heavy brows shadow his sunken eyes. His unkempt, shoulder-length hair, a messy mix of gray and white strands, suggests he has not seen a mirror in weeks.

His expression is bright and almost eager, as if I were a welcome guest at a pleasant social event, not a Councilor summoned to a run-down cottage with a list of rare potion ingredients.

He steps aside, motioning me indoors.

Books and ancient artifacts cover every surface in the room. Stacks of parchment lean precariously against the walls. Strange metallic objects, pieces of armor, and relic fragments sit scattered across tables.

Ellias moves toward a small wooden stool buried beneath what appears to be an entire library’s worth of books. Without hesitation, he removes the stack and places it on the floor beside him before gesturing for me to sit.

I stare at the pile now resting at his feet.

“Ellias,” I say, still attempting to process my surroundings, “is this your home?”

He looks at me with genuine confusion. “No, of course not. This is my workshop.”

I lean back, careful not to touch anything nearby. With Ellias, I have learned that half of his possessions are likely priceless historical artifacts and the other half are probably things that would kill me if mishandled.

“Ellias, what am I doing here?” I ask, my patience beginning to wear thin. “You made an urgent request that I travel across half of Vail to meet you in the middle of nowhere. You requested potion ingredients that are not exactly easy to acquire. Forgive me for assuming something was wrong.”

I pause, studying him.

“Are you ill?”

He waves the suggestion away. “Absolutely not. Healthy as a horse.”

I raise an eyebrow. I have never met a horse that looked quite this close to death, but I decide against mentioning it.

“Then perhaps you can explain why you summoned me.”

Ellias moves toward one of the crowded tables, shifting aside several pieces of parchment before finding what he is searching for.

“You are overseeing the academy building plans, yes?”

The question catches me off guard.

“Yes. That's what was decided.”

“Good. Very good.”

He nods to himself as though this confirms something. “I knew you would be the one they selected.”

I narrow my eyes. “Why?”

He turns toward me, his expression losing some of its absent-mindedness. “Because you understand something that the others do not.”

I almost laugh. “Ellias, if this is another one of your philosophical speeches about the future of Vail, I should warn you I did not travel here for riddles.”

His lips twitch. “No. Not riddles.”

He reaches for a small wooden box sitting beneath a pile of old manuscripts. He handles it with a strange reverence, carefully removing the dust from the lid before placing it on the table between us.

“You see, Forest, everyone believes the academy will solve our problems.”

I glance at the box. “Well, yes, that is the purpose of it.”

“Yes,” he whispers. “That is what we have told ourselves.”

Something about his tone makes me uncomfortable. Ellias has always been strange, but there is a difference between eccentricity and crazy.

“What are you implying?”

He looks back toward the window, toward the endless forest surrounding us. “It’s no matter now.”

Ellias reaches across the cluttered table and retrieves a folded piece of parchment from beneath a stack of old manuscripts. He smooths it, almost delicately, before sliding it toward me.

“The reason I brought you here is because I need a set of specific potions made.”

I glance down at the parchment. “And?”

His eyes lift to mine.

“I need you to drink one.”

For a moment, I stare at him. Perhaps the years of isolation and relic exposure have finally affected him more than anyone realized.

I unfold the parchment, expecting to see some harmless request. A rare restorative. An enhancement draught. Something strange, perhaps, but within the realm of what I have come to expect from Ellias.

Instead, my eyes move over the ingredients and formulas, and for the first time since entering this cottage, I find myself without a response.

“What...” I begin, my voice catching. “What is this?”

Ellias does not answer but simply watches me.

He has always spoken in half-truths and riddles, buried beneath centuries of knowledge and his obsession with relics. But there has always been a certain harmlessness about him. An eccentric old Councilor who cared more about forgotten artifacts than political games.

This feels different.

“Ellias, do you understand what you are asking?”

I set the parchment down as his expression remains unreadable.

“It would be illegal to have access to a Gluttony power in your faction. Not just illegal. Impossible. The relic might contain it, but…”

I lean forward, lowering my voice, even though we are alone. “What purpose could this possibly serve?”

For a moment, the only sound is the crackling of the fire beside us.

Then Ellias smiles.

A slow, knowing smile that makes something unpleasant twist in my stomach.

I sit back.

“No. This is too much to ask. I won’t do it.”

His smile fades. “No?”

I stand, folding the parchment and placing it back on the table.

“Whatever experiment you are conducting, whatever theory you believe you have uncovered, this has crossed a line. You asked for my help, and I came because despite everything, I consider you a friend. But this? This is not research. This violates Council law.”

A quiet amusement enters his eyes. He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“You do not see me as a friend, Forest. You only see me as an ally. A useful one.”

My jaw tightens. “That is not true.”

His voice remains calm, but every word lands with precision. “You think I do not know that my vote is the only thing protecting your fragile majority for academy decisions?”

I say nothing as the icy realization that this man knows more than he lets on takes hold.

“Come now, Forest,” he continues. “Are you willing to risk all of that over a few simple potions?”

The confidence drains from me. Losing my influence would not just be an inconvenience. Pride would see weakness. The other Councilors would smell blood. My faction’s position would become vulnerable overnight.

I exhale slowly. “All right. I will do it.”

The words taste bitter in my mouth.

“I do not know why you need this for your... experiments,” I say, unable to hide the warning in my voice, “but Ellias, listen to me carefully.”

His expression remains calm as I point toward the parchment between us.

“You are entering dangerous territory. The Council will not tolerate this. If word gets out you are experimenting with powers outside the natural order of our factions, they will not see it as curiosity. They will see it as a threat.”

I pause.

“And you know as well as I do they eliminate threats.”

No sign of fear crosses his face at my warning as he stands. “Come, Forest, let us get to work.”