The Silent Court — Two Days Later
The council chamber smelled of damp stone and old blood.
Lee Sung sat at the head of the table, Ysrael to his right, Commander Dalia to his left. Before them knelt seven men and women, hands bound, faces bruised and defiant.
They were nobles once — minor lords of old blood — now stripped of titles and dignity.
Varin, pale and sweating more than usual, read the charges aloud:
"Treason against the Crown. Conspiracy with external powers. Sedition. Espionage."
Each word was like a hammer against the cracked stone of the Silent Court.
Lee Sung rose slowly, his shadow falling long across the kneeling traitors.
"You would have sold Solspire," he said, voice low, "to line your own pockets. You would have surrendered us to chains, thinking you might keep your mansions and your pretty titles."
He paced before them, the black iron shard of the Wyrmforged Relic heavy at his belt, hidden under folds of dark cloth.
"Instead, you have bought your deaths."
Dalia stepped forward at his nod. She and the Blackguard moved swiftly, efficiently. No public spectacle. No cries for mercy.
By morning, the traitors were gone — their estates quietly seized, their families exiled beyond the outer hills.
Solspire would have no martyrs.
Only silence.
Only fear.
---
The Docks — Later That Day
The Free Cities' emissaries lingered, sensing the shifting winds.
Envoy Marrek approached Lee Sung at the docks, an ingratiating smile plastered across his face.
"My lord," he said smoothly, "I understand you have had... domestic matters to resolve."
Lee Sung's expression did not change.
Marrek pressed on.
"The Free Cities would remind you that we stand ready to assist. Mercenaries, weapons, even sorcerous aid — if need be. Surely such burdens are too heavy to bear alone."
Lee Sung studied him for a long moment.
Behind Marrek, a new figure descended from the Free Cities' ship — a woman in a cloak stitched with crimson and gold. Younger than the other emissaries, but with an aura of sharpness, like a knife wrapped in velvet.
Marrek followed his gaze.
"Ah. That is Lady Selene of Vel'Rath," he said lightly. "An... advisor. Well-versed in the ways of diplomacy — and subterfuge."
Selene approached, bowing low.
"My king," she said, voice like honey laced with poison. "Might we speak privately?"
Ysrael stepped forward, hand instinctively near his sword, but Lee Sung gestured him back.
"Very well," he said.
He would hear what this Selene offered — and measure its weight against its threat.
---
The Inner Vaults — That Night
Selene proved more dangerous than Marrek or even Quirin.
Where they offered crude bribes, she offered insight.
"The Free Cities know of the relic you have found," she said softly, standing beside the pedestal where the Wyrmforged shard pulsed faintly.
"You are not the only one seeking them."
She drew a folded parchment from her sleeve — a map.
Across it were marked the ruins of ancient cities, lost fortresses, deep tombs buried beneath the Ashen Wastes.
"Seven relics remain," Selene whispered. "Fragments of a greater whole. If reunited... you could claim more than Solspire."
She stepped closer, close enough for Lee Sung to smell the faint spice of foreign perfumes.
"You could claim the world."
Lee Sung stared at the map.
Ambition coiled inside him like a living thing.
Seven relics.
Seven pieces of a shattered god-machine that had once ruled the world.
He closed his eyes briefly, Akane's whispered warning echoing once more:
> "A crown borrowed is a crown broken."
When he opened them again, his path was clear.
"I will not be a pawn," he said quietly.
Selene smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips.
"Good," she said. "Then let us discuss terms."
---
Solspire's Throne Room — The Next Dawn
When Lee Sung addressed the city, the storm had finally passed.
The sun burned pale behind torn clouds. The banners of Solspire — crimson, gold, and black — rippled along the walls.
Citizens crowded the plazas, eyes wary, faces thin from hardship but lit with a flicker of hope.
Lee Sung stood before them, armored in black and steel, the Wyrmforged shard hidden at his side.
"Solspire lives," he declared, voice carrying like thunder across the stones. "We have weathered storms. We have crushed traitors. And now we shall rise, stronger than before."
He lifted his sword — once ceremonial, now real and blooded — high above his head.
"From this day forward, no foreign yoke shall ever bind us again. Not the Azure League. Not the Free Cities. Not even the gods themselves."
A roar went up from the plaza — not unanimous, but strong enough.
Lee Sung lowered the sword.
Already, agents moved through the crowd — spreading word of bounty programs, of land grants to loyal soldiers, of grain distributions. Buying loyalty. Buying time.
Solspire had been bought once before.
It would not be sold again.
Not while he lived.