Eastern Districts of Loryan | Day 37 – Morning
The flames had died down, but the smoke still clawed at the sky.
Loryan's east woke to ashes and the stench of fear.
After the granaries burned, silence didn't settle—it gave birth to a scream.
The voices echoing through the streets were no longer prayers, but fury:
"If you can't protect us, why do you rule us?"
"This was our city! Now we count corpses!"
Valerian walked through the square at dawn.
His soldiers cleared a path, but the people didn't even look at him.
One man spat on the ground. A woman clutched her baby tighter.
And a child…
looked straight into his eyes and shouted:
"Who are you? One of us—or one of them?"
Valerian stopped.
The child's eyes held more sorrow than fear.
"I… am one of you," he whispered.
But no one heard.
And those who did, didn't believe.
Back at headquarters, Helvar stormed into the room.
"You still think you hold the people?
Tomorrow you'll have your walls—but no one inside them!"
Valerian said nothing, eyes fixed on a map.
Then he stood.
"There are three hundred gates in this city.
Whoever infiltrated us came through one.
And we still haven't found them.
But the people…
they already know a name.
Because it's easier to hate."
Helvar lowered his head.
"They don't hate you…
They've begun to hate themselves."
Meanwhile, inside the tent of the Black Hunt, Morn Velk read a new list aloud.
Three of Valerian's seven closest allies—old war veterans—had been lynched by the people.
One of them… burned alive.
Velk smiled.
"Victory is when you conquer without lifting a sword."
In some streets of Loryan, people had begun forming their own patrols,
their own rules,
their own justice.
And the targets of that justice were often:
Valerian's loyalists.
When Valerian heard this, he said only one thing:
"If the city builds its own justice…
then it no longer needs my crown."
Helvar couldn't hold back:
"What will we do?"
Valerian:
"Either we silence the city…
or burn with it."
Loryan | Day 37 – Late Afternoon / Stone Temple Hall
As Valerian walked into the throne hall, the bells atop the walls were silent.
But the city roared.
Rebellion grew at the gates.
Oaths were breaking in front of temples.
To take a city, one didn't need to break its walls—
Only the walls inside people's hearts.
He stopped before the throne.
Tonight, he would not speak as a king,
but as a man.
Helvar approached from behind.
"These people didn't come to listen.
They came to shout at you."
Valerian turned.
"I gave them a reason to shout.
Now…
I'll give them a reason to listen."
The great doors opened.
Hundreds poured in.
Some cursed, some cried, some stood silent.
Valerian walked among the stone columns.
He didn't sit on his throne.
He placed a table in the center,
so every eye could see.
On it, he unrolled a map.
Then he spoke loudly:
"This map was drawn seven years ago.
It shows our borders, our enemies, our allies.
But I realized something…"
He paused. The crowd quieted.
"…This map only shows what's outside us.
Not the destruction within."
A woman stepped forward.
"Then show us the enemy inside!
Who made our children die?"
Valerian looked into her eyes.
"This map… it shows me.
Because the enemy isn't always beyond our walls—
Sometimes a king who cannot decide is a disaster."
Whispers spread like fire.
Valerian continued:
"But I am still a son of this people.
Still a scar of this land.
And I promise you this:
I will find the traitors among us.
But I need you.
Choose courage, not fear.
For courage doesn't just build a king…
It births a nation."
Silence held the hall.
For the first time, some eyes showed not hatred—but hope.
That night, something new swept through Loryan's streets:
A shared vow.
Etched above doors:
"This city will never walk alone again."
Valerian did not return to his throne.
He slept on the hall floor.
Among his people.