The wall shook under another catapult strike, dust raining into Soren's eyes. He didn't blink. His sword arm was red up to the elbow, but his voice never wavered as he cut through commands.
"Left flank, brace! Oil to the towers! Push the ladders—NOW!"
BAM and soldiers were holding… barely.
Then it happened.
A BAM warrior — tall, drunk on rage — shoved a nameless soldier hard against the stone to steal his place at the wall.
"MOVE, weakling! Let real men fight!"
The soldier stumbled, steadied himself. For a split second, his hood slipped just enough for Soren to glimpse the eyes beneath. Cold. Sharp. Burning like fire under ice.
Soren's breath caught.
The King.
---
But the BAM fighter didn't know. He shoved him again, spitting.
"You'll only get in the way—"
The disguised Chris Blackwood turned his head slowly, like the world itself had gone silent. His hand didn't touch his blade. He didn't need to. His gaze alone froze the air.
The BAM's grin faltered.
Soren's fury exploded. His voice roared over the wall like thunder.
"ON YOUR FACE, DOG!"
Every head turned. BAM men, soldiers, even the enemy halfway up the ladders.
Soren's blade pointed like judgment itself at the offending fighter.
"You just laid hands on the Throne of Blackwood."
Gasps tore the wall. The soldier's disguise no longer mattered. Chris's presence was revealed — not by himself, but by Soren's wrath.
The BAM fighter dropped to his knees instantly, trembling.
Soren strode forward, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him face-first into the stone. His voice was iron, meant for every soul within earshot.
"Let it be known — BAM answers to the King. Not the other way around."
He turned, bowed his head low to Chris.
"My King… forgive my men. The next time one lays hand on you, his blood will paint the walls before his hand leaves your robe."
Chris's face was unreadable, his silence heavier than a hundred commands.
But the army had seen.
And the battlefield had changed.
---