Murmur. Murmur. Murmur.
The centre of Obidos pulsed with whispers. Thousands crowded every street, shoulder to shoulder, children perched on crates, elders leaning from windows and balconies. In the centre of the town square, tens of figures knelt in tight rows — black hoods pulled over their heads, heavy chains binding their wrists and ankles to the cold stone. Around them, Malcom's guards stood watch, spears at the ready, eyes sharp for any fool who thought to test this new order.
Behind the kneeling prisoners, a wide wooden platform rose from the cobbles like an execution block reborn — freshly hammered together under the dawn sky. All eyes flicked from the platform to the chained prisoners, then back again, as the murmurs grew louder.
"There—!" A voice rang out from the packed crowd, pointing up where grey clouds split apart like a curtain tearing open. A heartbeat later, two shapes emerged — vast wings slicing through the air, scales catching the pale sun.
A gasp rippled through the thousands when they saw the red dragon — the same monstrous beast that had haunted the sky days ago — but beside it flew something they'd never seen: a dragon of deep emerald green, wings like living forest canopies, cutting through the clouds with silent, terrifying grace.
The two dragons dipped lower, air whipping across the square in powerful, bone-shaking gusts. Just when it seemed they might crush the rooftops, they froze midair — wings beating in perfect tandem, tails curling like thunder made flesh.
A figure leapt from their backs.
Ali dropped through the sky, white coat snapping around him like a banner caught in a storm. On his back, the black dragon sigil seemed almost alive, coiled and ready to strike. The world felt frozen for a heartbeat — thousands of eyes locked on the lone man falling from the sky as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
He landed atop the wooden platform without a sound — boots thudding soft against the rough boards. He stood there a moment, staring out over the stunned sea of people below. No one moved. No one breathed too loud.
Ali raised one hand and pointed at the stone beneath their feet. His voice cut through the tense silence like iron splitting ice.
"Kneel."
Above him, his dragons roared — a twin thunderclap that rattled teeth in every skull and turned every whisper into gasps and cries. Across the square, the crowd dropped, knees slamming the stone one after another.
Ali lowered his hand and spoke, his voice carrying clear and steady, as if the wind itself refused to drown him out.
"My name is Ali. I am the new Lord of Obidos and its lands." His words rolled out slow. "This will be a time of change for all of you. The rot of House Cinder ends here — every foul practice buried with their name. In its place: new rules, new hope."
The miners in the back strained forward to hear. The merchants peered from behind market stalls. Adventurers, frozen in their guild hall doorways, leaned in. From the ramparts of Castle Cinder Melissa listened.
Ali's words echoed off stone and flesh alike.
"Those who obey — who stand loyal to Obidos and to me — will live lives with dignity. No more hungry children, no more bodies lost and forgotten in cold tunnels, no more selling your soul to survive another night. You will stand proud. Or you will not stand at all."
Silence. No cough, no shuffle, no murmur now — only breath caught in chests and tears wetting weathered cheeks.
Ali took another breath. "First: the mines will be rebuilt — safer, stronger, fairer. For now, many of you miners will shift to rebuilding work — you'll be paid fairly, work fair hours. When the mines open again, you'll step back into the mines without fear of dying for nothing. You'll earn wages every month — not scraps for a single day. And you will have the choice — to learn a new craft, to tend new farmlands I am carving between Obidos and Nolan Castle. The future is yours now. You choose it."
A shudder ran through the square. Families clutched each other tight. Old men wept openly for fathers and sons lost to tunnels that swallowed generations. Somewhere near the front, a young man with dirt still smeared across his cheeks — pickaxe forgotten — felt something strange crack open in his chest. His green eyes flicked up to the man on the platform, colour blooming there like spring after endless winter.
Ali's gaze swept the kneeling mass. "Capable young men — any who prove themselves — will have the chance to train in my Knight's Academy. Free of charge."
The green-eyed miner's breath caught in his throat. His fingers flexed against the cold stone. His shoulders, so used to stooping under endless rock and weight, drew back — even as he stayed on his knees.
Ali's voice dropped lower, colder. "There will be more — laws, order, paths for every one of you. My advisors will explain later. For now—" He gestured behind him, to the kneeling figures in chains.
"These prisoners before you — traitors, predators, parasites. You will hear what they did. And you will watch what happens to those who poison the people under my rule."
He flicked his hand once. Malcom stepped forward, pulling the first hood away — his voice ringing out the crimes, one by one, each word striking the stone of Obidos like nails driven into rotten coffins.
No one looked away. Not this time.
Slowly, the murmurs of the crowd shifted — whispers traded for sharp, ragged breaths as they rose to their feet one by one. Their eyes locked on the line of chained prisoners kneeling in the dirt, the rage in their faces hotter than any fire. The guards standing at the edges tensed, spears and swords lowered, tips flashing cold warnings that kept the boiling fury from spilling over too soon.
Ali stood above it all, coat brushing in the wind, voice carrying like a blade scraping iron.
"These merchants…" He spoke. "They have drained the life from this town for years — stolen your children's food, buried your fathers in the mines, sold your neighbors to slave caravans and told their families it was an 'accident.' They killed your former lord when he outlived his use. And so—" His eyes cut across the sea of upturned faces. "—we will welcome the new age of Obidos by cutting down the rot that held you in the dark."
He dipped his head once — the smallest signal.
Malcom stepped forward, his massive frame calm as a storm about to break. One by one, he yanked prisoners up by their chains, forcing them to their knees if they dared slump or beg. The first head fell clean — the sound of the blade a sharp crack that snapped the square into silence for half a breath before the crowd exhaled as one.
And then the second. And the third.
Some wept openly — not for the dead merchants, but for fathers, brothers, sons lost to the same greed now bleeding into the dirt. Old men gripped each other's shoulders and smiled through tears. Miners whose bodies were broken by years under the earth now watched the men who chained them break instead.
The condemned wept, their pleas swallowed by the roaring in every chest as Malcom's blade rose and fell, steady as an executioner's bell.
Two minutes later, it was done — one last arc of steel through dawn air, one last body slumping to the blood-slicked stone.
Ali's voice cut through the silence left behind.
"People of Obidos — those who wish to join the Knight's academy , gather at the main gate. The rest of you — take this day to rest. Eat well — it is free. Think of the life you want tomorrow. Because tomorrow, work begins."
He turned, coat snapping behind him as he stepped off the platform, boots splashing through shallow crimson.
Somewhere in the crowd, a miner lifted a fist skyward, dirt-streaked and shaking.
"ALI!"
It broke the stillness like a torch to dry brush.
"ALI!"
"ALI!"
"ALI!"
Voices rolled through the square — walls shook, windows rattled. They weren't just calling a name — they were breaking a chain.
Ali walked through the roar without looking back, Fainter's massive shape moving behind him like a shadow with iron boots. The guards parted before them — past the blood, past the new dawn.
Ahead waited the old doors of the Adventurer's Guild — squat, plain wood hiding the pulse of wolves inside. Ali paused, eyes tracing the deep cleave Seraphina had left in the stone when she'd knocked before in her own bloody way. Fainter stepped up to announce him — Ali lifted a single finger, and the giant fell silent at once.
Ali pushed the doors wide. Inside, the guild's main floor froze — adventurers in mismatched armour stared at him, hostile, wary, some gripping blades, some half-smirking behind mugs of cheap ale.
An old man in a crisp suit stepped forward between them, back straight as a sword's edge. He opened his mouth — a careful smile barely tugging at his lips.
"Lord Ali, welcome to the Adventurer's Guild. I am—"
Ali raised one finger. The man's voice stopped dead.
Ali's eyes swept the room — each mercenary pinned where they stood, some flinching as if he'd cracked them across the face with that silent look alone.
"You have ten minutes to get out of my land." His tone was a stone dropped into still water — unhurried, but there was no doubt how far the ripples would reach. "Step across my border when your time is up, and you die where you stand."
Gasps, curses, clenched jaws. The old man forced a thin smile.
"But my Lord—" he tried again, but Ali was already turning.
"Your ten minutes start now." He walked away. Above the guild roof, the roar of his dragons rolled like thunder, rattling ale mugs on wooden tables and leaving the room cold with fear.
The old man's eyes sharpened, a snake's flicker behind a dignified mask.
"You're making a mistake, young man," he murmured under his breath — but Ali heard it anyway. His smirk flickered just once as he walked through Obidos.
[Miles. Kill any who break the time limit.] Ali sent the message to Miles.
At Obidos's broken gates, battered wagons sat ready — fresh teams of horses stamping steam into the cold dirt. Young men clustered there, some with boots too big for their feet, some with shoulders that had never known armour — but all with eyes clear and bright now, burning with something bigger than digging rock for a mouthful of bread.
When they saw Ali approach, Fainter behind him like an iron wall, they dropped to their knees once more, chests hammering, breath steaming in the cold.
Ali stopped in front of them — one look sweeping over their bent heads.
"Stand up."
Ali stood before the line of raw, hungry young men at the broken gates of Obidos. His eyes swept across them — boys with calloused hands, bruised backs, half-starved hope burning behind their ribs. And then his gaze stopped — locked on one.
A green-haired young man, broad-shouldered from years at the pickaxe, dirt smudged down his neck, green eyes staring out from under tired brows. Those eyes weren't anxious like the rest — they were clear, distant.
'He's different…' Ali thought, filing the boy away. 'Those eyes… he's not even here.'
He lifted a hand, gesturing Fainter forward. The black-armoured giant stepped out from behind him, boots hitting the dirt with dull thuds that made the closest recruits flinch.
Ali's voice cut through the chill morning air. "The test will be simple. My Knight here will unleash his aura. You'll be chosen based on how well you stand against it."
Fainter's eyes narrowed, rolling over the rows of waiting boys like a butcher choosing which cow would break first. He lifted one massive hand — closed it into a tight, iron fist.
BOOOOOOOM
The air cracked open — blue aura burst from his shoulders like a tide of thunder, slamming into the line with the force of a mountain rolling downhill. Dust exploded from the ground. The closest men buckled immediately — knees slamming the dirt, some clutching their chests, some dropping forward to vomit as the weight of Fainter's spirit pressed down on every nerve like cold iron.
Twenty-two stayed on their feet — trembling, jaws locked, legs quaking but unbroken.
Except one.
The green-haired miner — Loyd — didn't flinch. Didn't hunch. Didn't even look at Fainter's shadow as it rolled over him. His dull eyes stayed fixed straight ahead — not at the Knight, but through him.
Inside his head, there was no Knight, no dragon lord watching from the side. Just the endless dark of a tunnel. The sound of rock cracking under iron, sweat dripping off his chin onto black stone that never moved enough. Swing. Crack. Swing. Crack. Hours. Days. Years.
Compared to that weight — this aura felt like a breeze on his back. Loyd's green eyes met Fainter's without fear — just the same empty resolve that carried him through every heartbeat in the pit.
Fainter's teeth clenched — rage twisting through him at the insolence of that blank stare. He pushed harder — the blue wave crashing thicker, sharper. But the boy never moved.
'Compared to that…' Loyd thought, barely aware of his own heartbeat. 'This is nothing.'
Ali raised a hand, killing the test with a single word. "Enough."
Fainter cut the aura like snuffing a candle. The air snapped back — dust settling around boots, some of the boys still standing on shaky legs, gasping like fish tossed on dry land.
Ali stepped forward, boots brushing dirt aside until he was close enough to see Loyd's cracked knuckles and the faint scars across his shoulders. His eyes met the boy's — and for a moment, he saw no fear, no thrill. Just that steady, blank resolve.
"Your name?" Ali asked.
The young man lowered his head. "Loyd, my lord."
Ali tilted his head, a small grin flickering at the corner of his mouth. "You're talented, Loyd. I'll keep an eye on you. Impress me at the academy — and I'll reward you myself."
Something flickered in Loyd's dull eyes then — the faintest crack in the wall. He sank to one knee, fist pressed to the cold ground.
"I will not disappoint you, my Lord."
Ali turned, eyes flicking to the line of wagons behind him where Malcom sat, massive arms folded, one eyebrow raised at the scene.
"Malcom. Take him under your wing."
The old knight gave a single nod — then barked out orders, voice rolling over the square. "All of you who stayed standing — on the wagons! Now! You follow me — your new life starts the second your boots leave this dirt!"
The young men scrambled forward, still shaking, still grinning — a whole different kind of weight pressing their shoulders now.
Ali turned to Fainter, who stood silent beside him, arms crossed over his massive chest.
"You fix this sorry excuse for a guard force. You follow the castle's orders when I'm gone."
Fainter dipped his chin once. "Yes, my Lord."
Ali stepped back, boots sinking an inch into the mud. Then he exploded upward — wind snapping around his coat, white cloth and black dragon sigil vanishing into the sky like a phantom burned into the sunrise.
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