The silence in Dragonsreach was thick enough to cut with a dagger. The air felt heavy, weighted with unspoken words and tension. Eradros had expected many things when they arrived in Whiterun—negotiations, maybe even resistance from the Jarl's court. But this? The boy was actually choosing to fight. He studied Kinetrius, who stood with firm resolve, shoulders squared, expression hardened with determination.
After everything they'd done to keep him safe… was he really meaning to face these men head-on?
The hall was eerily quiet as everyone began to realize the weight of the situation. Nearby, Minevi watched the exchange carefully, her arms crossed. Her piercing gaze flicked between them, lingering on Eradros before settling on the boy.
Why would anyone be after them?
For Eradros, there were plenty of reasons—his past ensured that. But for Kinetrius? That answer eluded her. She finally broke the silence.
"Eradros… what's going on? Are you two in trouble or something?"
Eradros stood with his back still facing her. He wouldn't dare get her involved in his affairs—not just for his own sake, but hers as well. And yet… something about this situation weighed on him differently. Guilt. It pressed against his chest like a vice.
Finally, he turned to face her, his golden eyes laced with something rare—regret.
"Yes," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. "It would seem so."
Minevi's brows furrowed.
"I knew not if they were still hunting him at first," Eradros continued. "But… I guess I do now. I didn't think they would involve civilians either, but—"
Before he could finish, Kinetrius cut him off.
"So what are we waiting around for?"
The words snapped through the air like a whip. Eradros's head jerked toward him in disbelief.
"You can't be serious, lad. You mean to fight them?"
Kinetrius didn't hesitate.
"It was different when they were just attacking me." His voice was steady, filled with conviction beyond his years.
"But now they're attacking other people in search of me. I can't live with that. With people getting hurt whilst I hide behind others."
He clenched his fists.
"I have to do something."
Then, he lifted his head, his good eye burning with defiance.
"I'm not afraid of those men anymore. In fact, I would have words."
Eradros let out a frustrated breath.
"Have you even thought about what you're saying? What do you intend to fight them with, might I ask?"
Before Kinetrius could answer, Jarl Balgruuf himself stepped forward. The ruler of Whiterun had been silent up until now, listening carefully. But now, he studied the boy with approval, a hint of respect glinting in his sharp gaze.
"The boy means to be about his issue. This is admirable."
He gave a short nod to his steward, who approached Kinetrius with a wrapped bundle.
"Plus…" Balgruuf added, "you've both done us a great service by informing us of the dragon's appearance. Take this."
Kinetrius unwrapped the bundle to find a wooden shield painted yellow, with the emblem of a horse on the face. The sigil of Whiterun. Kinetrius held it in his hands, his expression unreadable.
Eradros arched a brow. "And your blade?"
Kinetrius smirked. "I've actually been working on that. Check this out."
He took a step back, holding out his hand. The air around him began to shimmer, a faint purple aura flickering into existence. His brows furrowed in concentration, his hands shaking slightly from exertion.
At first, nothing happened.
Then—He raised his arm as if gripping something invisible. A moment later, he pulled a sword from thin air. It shimmered and flickered, made entirely of arcane energy, its blade ghostly and translucent, as if woven from the very fabric of magic itself.
A Bound Sword.
Eradros and the others stared in astonishment.
"Wait a minute…" Eradros's eyes narrowed. "Those conjuration tomes I had. Did you read an entire spell tome on the trip here?"
Kinetrius grinned.
"Actually, I read a few of them."
Eradros let out a breath. "Of course you did."
Kinetrius twirled the sword experimentally, its purple glow dancing along the steel-like edge.
"I remembered you saying that I would need a blade," he admitted. "And a bit of knowledge in the arcane in order to protect myself properly. I thought this solved both of those problems."
Eradros rubbed his temple.
"This is all well and good, but what about your injuries? Hell, you can't even see out of both eyes at the moment, lad."
Kinetrius tightened his grip on the sword.
"They're here for me," he said simply.
He adjusted the shield on his back.
"I don't really see another way around this."
Minevi watched him carefully. Something about the boy's sense of responsibility struck a chord with her. She wasn't used to seeing accountability in someone so young. She was… charmed by it. Eradros, on the other hand, looked more worried than ever. This was not a situation he was comfortable with. He had been through plenty of hell in his life, but never had he been in charge of protecting a child. He would trade any of those dangers for this scenario in a heartbeat. But the Jarl was right. And so was Kinetrius.
They had to act.
Finally, after a long pause, Eradros sighed.
"Fine."
He met Kinetrius's gaze.
"But understand this. If we go this route, I am no longer your protector. Got it?"
Kinetrius held his gaze without flinching.
"You won't be able to hide from your enemies if we choose to fight now," Eradros warned.
Kinetrius adjusted the shield on his back. Then, without hesitation, he turned and walked toward the entrance.
"Don't worry," he called over his shoulder.
His good eye gleamed with resolve.
"I don't intend on running from anyone anymore."
The hall fell silent as he made his exit.
Eradros ran a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose.
"Are we really okay with this?" he muttered, looking around at the others.
Minevi smirked.
"I wouldn't be too worried about him. After all, he's got you there."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"That was a tough speech you gave him and all, but I know you'll make sure he's fine no matter what."
Eradros shot her a flat look. "You know no such thing. I barely even know what we're up against."
Jarl Balgruuf folded his arms.
"Then it sounds like you should stop doubting yourself and get after him."
His voice was stern.
"Time is short. And I won't continue to suffer more of my people being in harm's way because of a pair of strangers—honorable though they may be."
He gestured toward Minevi.
"Take her with you."
Minevi blinked. "But Jarl Balgruuf, my mission was to—"
"And how would you expect me to focus on things like diplomacy with the list of problems on my plate," Balgruuf cut in. "Go. Help your friends. If all goes well, we will continue those talks in the morn."
Minevi hesitated. Then—a slow grin crept onto her face. She liked this idea. She turned to Eradros, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
"What's the matter with you?" she teased. "I've seen you smiling with a noose around your neck. But protecting this kid? It's kicking your arse."
Eradros huffed. Without another word, he turned toward the door. Minevi grabbed her things and followed. The sun was sinking behind the mountains, casting long shadows over the city of Whiterun. Kinetrius stood at the top of the stone steps, watching as the last sliver of daylight slipped beneath the horizon. The wind howled through the open courtyard, whistling past him like a ghost's warning. It carried the chill of an omen. Beside him, Eradros remained silent, his sharp gaze sweeping over the city below. Nothing. No sign of their pursuers.
Where are they?
They had attacked Braithor's forge, leaving fire and destruction in their wake. They had been seen lurking in the city. And now—they had vanished. Eradros furrowed his brow, deep in thought. What were they waiting for? What was their next move?
The doors behind them creaked open, and Minevi strode out, her Imperial shield slung across her back and a mace strapped to her hip. Despite its weight, she carried it effortlessly. She took one look at the two men, standing like statues, brooding over the city, and let out a dramatic sigh.
"So… where to first?" She leaned her weight on one foot. "What's the plan on luring them out?"
Neither of them answered.
She studied them both, finally realizing they weren't just brooding—they were deep in thought.
A moment passed.
Then she scoffed.
"Or is there one at all?"
Kinetrius exhaled.
"There isn't." His voice was calm, yet tense. "I kind of thought they would just show up if I came outside. But it doesn't look like it'll be that easy."
Minevi pinched the bridge of her nose. "Right. Of course it wouldn't be."
She turned her gaze downward toward the courtyard below, where most of the city's residents had long since retreated into their homes. But not everyone. Among the few who remained, a familiar figure caught her eye. Aela the Huntress.
The fierce warrior woman stood with her bow at her back, speaking in low tones to Farkas, her burly shield-brother. Minevi smirked. Of course the Companions wouldn't hide from trouble. Maybe that was why they were out here at all. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called down.
"Oi! Aela, love! It's me, Minevi!"
Aela glanced up, her amber eyes sharp with recognition.
She grinned.
"Greetings! And I see the young master is out with you as well."
Kinetrius flushed immediately. It was the nickname she had given him during their first tour of the city—meant to be satirical, playful. Just like the one she had given Eradros. The Dashing Adventurer. She had said it in jest, but there was a part of her that seemed to want them to live up to those names someday.
Farkas exhaled through his nose. "Speak with your friends. I'm gonna check up ahead."
Aela nodded. "Moonlight guide you, friend."
As Farkas walked away, the three of them descended the steps to meet her.
Minevi wasted no time.
"Are you lot looking for someone?"
Aela folded her arms, nodding.
"Surely you heard of the attack on the blacksmith's shop?"
Minevi nodded. "Of course." She gestured toward Kinetrius. "The young master, as you called him, wishes to face this problem head-on."
Aela's expression shifted slightly.
"So the Redguard they were searching for… was he?"
"Unfortunately so." Minevi sighed. "But Jarl Balgruuf bid us be rid of the men posthaste."
Aela hummed in thought.
"We heard about the attack and decided to have a look for ourselves," she admitted. "Those men prey on the weak. We wished to see how they would fare against the strong."
Her lips curled in amusement.
"But they do not seem to be around anymore."
Kinetrius's hands clenched into fists.
"This is frustrating." His voice was tight with impatience. "I have to find them before they attack someone else."
Aela's gaze softened.
"Oh, young master? Might I make a suggestion?"
Kinetrius glanced up at her. His frustration was clear, but there was also something worried in his eyes. Aela's gaze flicked to the new shield on his back. Her smile returned.
"The attackers know that you're in the city," she explained. "They have no need to attack anyone else. All that is left is for them to show themselves."
She tilted her head.
"Might we forestall this eventuality for a while longer?"
Kinetrius narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Aela's smirk grew.
"I wish for you to meet someone. Or rather, I wish for someone to meet you."
Kinetrius blinked. "Me? What for?"
Aela's expression gave nothing away. "I'll explain on the way back to Jorrvaskr."
Kinetrius looked back at Eradros and Minevi, who both merely shrugged before following her lead.
After a brief hesitation, Kinetrius turned to glance at the city once more, then hurried after them.
As they walked, Aela spoke.
"Have you all heard about the massacre of the Winterhold College dorm?"
Minevi's eyes narrowed. "You mean the one that happened about fifteen years ago?"
Aela nodded. "Aye. Four students murdered. One missing, presumed dead also."
Eradros frowned. "What about it?"
Aela's expression darkened slightly.
"They surmised that some wild beast got into the school and ran off with the student after viciously killing the others."
She looked at them. "But that's not exactly what happened."
Minevi and Eradros exchanged a glance.
"We still don't know exactly what happened ourselves."
She sighed. "And neither does the missing student."
Eradros stiffened. "You mean… you know the missing student?"
Aela nodded. "Indeed. He's one of us."
Eradros' furrowed his brows. "And what does this have to do with Kin?"
Aela's gaze flicked toward Kinetrius.
"This particular person… has a gift. A gift to commune with the dead."
Minevi raised an eyebrow. "He's a necromancer, then?"
Aela grinned. "And an extraordinary one at that. Almost freakishly so."
She crossed her arms. "Even amongst the most talented magical prodigies of Skyrim, he was an oddity. I'm telling you all this because he may be able to use his gifts to help you in your search. But it is very difficult to motivate him you see."
Kinetrius absorbed this silently.
Eradros remained skeptical. "If he's not going to help, we don't need him."
They had arrived at Jorrvaskr—a massive, overturned Viking ship with decorative shields lining its walls.
Aela stopped at the doors.
"This may be true… but I tell you this not because you need him."
She turned to face them.
"I fear it is he who needs you all."
Minevi frowned. "What do you mean?"
Aela's expression turned somber.
"He feels great remorse for what happened that night."
She sighed. "Because of this, he's almost given up everything, despite being an extremely powerful wizard. He's taken a liking to axes and sharp metal things these days—barely used his gifts anymore."
Aela smirked.
"But I may have a way to motivate him."
Kinetrius frowned. "And that would be?"
Aela's smirk widened.
"Because he's in love with me. And if I ask hard enough, he's bound to feel obligated."
Eradros snorted. "Wow. I don't know whether to admire or fear you right now, Huntress."
Aela grinned. "Somewhere in the middle is fine by me."
And with that, she pushed open the doors to Jorrvaskr. The moment Kinetrius stepped inside Jorrvaskr, he could tell it was different from Dragonsreach. The architecture was similar—great wooden pillars stretching up into the ceiling, walls lined with banners and weapons of ancient warriors. But the energy of the place was nothing like the Jarl's court. Where Dragonsreach was stately and controlled, Jorrvaskr was alive with chaos and camaraderie. Laughter and booming voices echoed off the walls as four or five Companions sat around the long, C-shaped table, drinking and cheering.
At the center of the room, two warriors were engaged in a brutal punching match—throwing bare-knuckled swings, their faces red with exertion and ale. The others cheered them on, slamming their fists against the table. Kinetrius hesitated. He was startled by the noise, but after a moment… he found himself amused.
These people were warriors, through and through. At home in battle, just as they were at home breaking each other's noses for sport. They watched the fight for a moment, then were approached by a Companion from the table.
A tall, broad-shouldered Nord with long silver hair and a thick beard. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Aela.
"Aela… you're back." His gaze flicked to Kinetrius and Eradros. "And you've brought guests."
"I did," Aela said smoothly. "But they won't be here long. They intend to rid Whiterun of the terrorists from earlier. I wanted to assist them in their mission, is all."
The Nord—Vilkas—crossed his arms.
"In what way?"
"I was hoping to use Gavhelus's abilities to help find them."
Vilkas sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Well, have at it then. Keep it short, though, will you? Don't want Skjor baring his teeth about this."
Aela smirked. "I wouldn't dare."
They laughed lightly, then parted ways as Aela led the others downstairs to the lower level. The lower level of Jorrvaskr was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of aged wood, oil, and the remnants of an old feast. The halls were lined with mounted trophies—beast heads, swords, and shields taken from slain foes. As they walked, they passed yet another dining room—this one smaller and more private than the feasting hall above. At the far end of the long table, a lone figure sat hunched over his meal. A massive Dunmer.
He towered over most men, his body thick with muscle, clad in heavy steel armor that looked impossibly fitted for an elf. His long black hair draped over his shoulders, framing a set of piercing blood-red eyes that gleamed even in the dim light. Kinetrius had never seen an elf so large. He ripped into a turkey leg like a beast, his teeth tearing through flesh with predatory ease.
For a moment, he seemed completely lost in his meal. Then—he noticed them. His eyes snapped up. He froze mid-bite, staring at them as if they'd interrupted something sacred. Slowly, he lowered the turkey leg… but did not release it.
Then, in a gravelly, unimpressed voice, he muttered—
"Well… what's all this then?"
His red eyes narrowed on Aela.
"You runnin' a boy's club now, or somethin'?"
Kinetrius stared. This… was the brilliant necromancer? This mountain of a mer, dressed for war, tearing through a meal like a starving wolf? Aela remained unfazed.
"Not at all," she said. "I simply wanted to ask a favor of one of my brethren."
Gavhelus let out a slow, dramatic exhale, scanning their faces.
"…No."
He gestured lazily with the turkey leg. "Begone with them."
Kinetrius blinked. Well. That was fast. Aela didn't flinch.
"I never said who the favor was for, Gavhelus."
"No need," he muttered. "It's written all over their lost faces."
His blood-red gaze flicked between them all.
Eradros's expression remained unreadable, but Minevi was raising a skeptical brow.
Aela folded her arms. "Gavhelus, we talked about this. You are a Companion, and—"
"Serving the people is our duty, and all that."
His voice dripped with disinterest. He leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes.
"Spare me the lecture, Aela."
Aela's expression darkened slightly.
"We've let you soak in your sins for long enough. It's time you actually start making amends."
Gavhelus stilled. For a long moment, he simply looked at her. Then, his expression turned… curious.
"Tell me, Aela," he murmured. "How much of my past did you dredge up for these strangers?"
Aela hesitated.
"Only the relevant parts."
Gavhelus chuckled dryly. "Relevant, right."
His gaze sharpened.
"So did you tell them what we are, then? Because that is very… relevant."
Aela's shoulders stiffened. "I don't think what you're about to do is worth this. Secrets are meant to be kept, Gavhelus."
His grin turned sharper.
"All but mine, then?"
Aela's voice softened slightly. "I wasn't being malicious, I just…"
Gavhelus raised a hand. "It's alright, love. I'm not either."
His red gaze flicked to Kinetrius.
"But since you've involved them this much, it's only fair."
He grinned.
"I'm a werewolf, you see."
Kinetrius's breath hitched.
Gavhelus gestured vaguely around the room. "We all are. The Companions."
His grin widened.
"I'm sure she told you all about me mates at the College, then?"
Eradros's voice was flat. "We're aware."
Gavhelus chuckled darkly. "Great. Still got doubts on whether I did it or not?"
Aela stepped forward. "You don't know that. You had no intention of killing them when you were awake."
Gavhelus snorted.
"Come now, Aela. You know how insatiable the hunger of that beast is. It doesn't discriminate. It kills, it eats—end of story. I know you have this notion of me being redeemable, but even if that were so,…I do not want it. "
His voice grew lower.
"My mates were great sorcerers and healers. Though they struggled to understand me at times,…they deserved better. Had they lived, Skyrim may just be a better place for it."
Aela's voice hardened. "I struggle to understand your logic, Gavhelus. One gruesomely bad deed means no more good ones ever again?"
Gavhelus exhaled. "It's deeper than that, and you know it."
Aela glared. "Apparently I know nothing."
Her tone softened. "I've tried to understand your grief, but you don't talk or open up. So now I'm asking you to help someone who is willing to do good deeds. Is that too much to ask?"
Gavhelus was silent for a long moment.
Finally—he sighed.
"Fine."
His red eyes flicked toward her.
"What would you have of me, love?"
Aela smiled. "Ask your friends in the afterlife about the men from earlier."
Gavhelus raised a brow. "The masked wankers what blew up the Iron Maiden?"
Aela paused. "…Yes."
Gavhelus huffed. "It's the only thing the dead in this city are talking about. Haven't bloody shut up about it."
Eradros chimed in. "Have they said anything about where they are?"
"Sure'ave,"Gavhelus answered, biting his turkey leg. "Right outside of town. Got an order from someone important, and apparently their plan's changed a bit. Not sure how exactly."
"And they,… told you all that?" Eradros asked with skepticism in his tone.
"The dead see everything mate,…and lets just say they're dyin' for an ear to bend. And let me guess,…you lot are the ones they're lookin' for?"
Kinetrius clenched his fists. "More specifically, me."
Gavhelus grinned while still chewing. "Ha! Gone and pissed off a cult of crazies did ya?"
Kinetrius responded in a low, frustrated tone. "I actually don't know why they're after me. They killed my father when i was twelve, and have been hunting me ever since. But I'm not running from them anymore. This cat and mouse game ends tonight even if I die in the process."
Gavhelus stopped chewing for a moment, his already amused expression growing stronger.
"Oh-ho-hooo! Would you look at the pair on you, lad. I like that about ya. So tell me,…how do ya intend to deal with'm?"
Kinetrius scratched his head, unprepared to be put on the spot. "Well,…I got a shield,…and this sword."
Kinetrius summons the bound blade once more. Once it formed, he held it out to show Gavhelus that he was deadly serious. Gavhelus's face lit up at the site of it. Suddenly he was excited for some reason.
The Dunmer's gaze flicked to the bound sword in Kinetrius's hand. His eyes gleamed.
"Well, I'll be damned."
His smirk widened.
"Lad fancies himself a necromancer, aye?"
Aela was shocked.
She had watched Kinetrius struggle through the city earlier—weak, exhausted, barely able to take more than twenty steps without needing to pause. Now, here he was, standing firm, eager to fight. But what truly surprised her was Gavhelus. The Dunmer had barely been interested in anything for years. And yet, here he was, eyes gleaming with intrigue, actually paying attention. Gavhelus leaned back in his chair, still gripping the oversized turkey leg.
Then, his grin widened.
"That's a grand theory ya got there, lad." His voice was thick with amusement.
He tilted his head.
"How about we give it a good testing, whaddaya say?"
Kinetrius hesitated. "How… how do you mean?"
Gavhelus took a slow, deliberate breath.
"I'm gonna attack you…"
His blood-red eyes gleamed.
"And you're going to block it, then counter. Understood?"
Eradros pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do we really have time for this?"
Gavhelus shrugged. "Just a quick test, mate. Nothin' too fancy."
Kinetrius nodded. "Sure thing… ready when you are?"
Gavhelus's grin widened.
"Good, good."
At first, nothing happened. Gavhelus remained seated, completely relaxed, still holding his turkey leg. Then—Without warning—He hurled the turkey leg straight at Kinetrius. Kinetrius's instincts kicked in immediately. He raised his shield—
THUNK!
The turkey leg bounced harmlessly off the wood, hitting the floor with a dull splat. Silence. Kinetrius slowly lowered his shield, blinking.
Gavhelus smirked. "Got some pretty smooth reflexes, I'll give ya that."
Then his grin faded slightly.
"But you forgot about the counter."
He tapped his chest plate. "Where is it?"
Kinetrius hesitated. Gavhelus was still seated, looking entirely unbothered. He didn't look like he was ready to defend against an attack at all.
"But… you're still seated," Kinetrius pointed out.
Gavhelus responded impatiently. "On with it now, lad."
Kinetrius steeled himself. He gripped his bound sword, lowering into a stance—the same one his father had drilled into him. Then—he charged. He swung the sword at Gavhelus's chest—And it passed right through him. Kinetrius's breath caught. The blade sliced through the Dunmer's body as if he wasn't even there. Gavhelus didn't move. Didn't flinch. Didn't do anything. Kinetrius staggered back, staring at his weapon.
"I… I don't understand."
Gavhelus chuckled, shaking his head.
"See, that's the thing about necromancy, kiddo."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
"You've got to quite literally put your soul into it… or it doesn't work."
He tilted his head. "You even know how to do that?"
Kinetrius swallowed. "I just learned the Bound Sword spell yesterday. I thought that's all I needed to make this work."
Gavhelus laughed. "Most kids your age wouldn't get how to make it work, given the lack of life experience."
His red eyes glinted.
"But you? You've experienced a lot, haven't ya?"
Kinetrius went still.
Gavhelus tapped his temple with a sharp—black fingernail.
"It takes a certain level of pain. A certain hatred for something. That's how you form a proper weapon from the soul."
Kinetrius exhaled slowly. "I see…"
Gavhelus smirked. "It's too bad, really. I'd love to give you more pointers, but…"
His expression shifted. He suddenly tilted his head slightly, as if… listening. Then, his grin vanished.
"I'm afraid your suitors are on the move again."
Eradros tensed. "Wait, what? Now?"
Gavhelus nodded lazily. "That's what me dead friends just told me."
He rolled his shoulders.
"If you wanna keep the casualties to a minimum, I suggest you be on your way, young master."
He turned his sharp gaze to Kinetrius, grinning.
"Shame, really. Was just startin' to like ya."
Then he stood up from the table. Kinetrius's eyes flew wide open. Gavhelus was massive. Even Eradros had to tilt his head slightly to look up at him. The Dunmer's presence was overwhelming, a wall of muscle and steel, a beast in mer form.
No wonder he wasn't fazed by the attack. Kinetrius felt the sting of his failed training session, clenching his jaw in disappointment. His plan was falling apart before his eyes. He had thought he was ready. But now? Now he knew the truth—he was nowhere near. And there was no time to fix it.
He refused to rely on Eradros for this. He was done hiding behind others. Gavhelus seemed to read his thoughts. He knelt down in front of him, lowering himself to Kinetrius's level.
"Chin up, lad."
His voice was oddly soft.
"Your heart's in the right place."
His red eyes searched Kinetrius's face.
"I'm sure when the time is right, you'll do what needs to be done."
A ghost of a smile.
"Of that, I have no doubt."
He patted the boy once more as he stood, turning toward Eradros. As he passed him, he clasped a heavy hand on his shoulder and leaned in. His voice dropped into a low whisper.
"Take care of the lad, would ya?"
Eradros stiffened.
"My friends tell me the men lookin' for him ain't normal."
Gavhelus's grip tightened slightly.
"I'd hate to see 'im snuffed out before he becomes what we all need him to be."
Eradros's brow furrowed. "And what exactly do we need him to be?"
Gavhelus smirked. "Haven't you heard the tales, mate?"
His red eyes gleamed with something knowing.
"Those men are after him because he's bloody Dragonborn."
Silence.
Eradros felt his heart sink.
Gavhelus stepped away, stretching lazily. "Savior of Skyrim and slayer of dragons. You know the one."
He shot Eradros a sideways glance.
"Don't tell me you didn't know at least that."
Eradros's chest tightened even more.
An actual Dragonborn.
He turned his gaze toward Kinetrius, who was still staring at his sword.Suddenly, everything made sense. Falwon's sacrifice. The strange request he had made that day.
Falwon: "I do not wish for you to guard him, only that you guide him. Make him a proper hero."
Eradros had dismissed it.
Had told him—
"I'm just a thief with a boat. I know nothing about being a hero."
But Falwon had only smiled.
"I know you better than that, my friend."
He said it so confidently.
"I knew it was in you the first day we met. I'm sure he'll be alright in your care."
Gavhelus left the room. Leaving them with their thoughts. Leaving Eradros with the burden of realization. For a long moment, he stood completely still. Then he exhaled sharply. He reached behind him, grabbing his bow off his back. His voice was steady.
"Kin, let's go."
He turned toward the door, eyes sharpened with determination.
"We've got work to do."
Chapter End—