Kaelen slowly opened his eyes.
He was tied up.
But instead of panicking, he smirked. He had a plan.
He looked around and saw a large room with people gathered—at least a hundred. From a quick count, he estimated there might be around two hundred in total.
Some wore red cloaks. Others black. Most had no cloak at all.
A man with a blue cloak stepped forward. He seemed to be the leader.
"Hahaha! A Leonheart? This is perfect. We'll use you as leverage to make the lord drop the taxes. If he doesn't help us against the monsters, we'll claim the Leonhearts will destroy him!"
The man laughed loudly.
Kaelen's face remained calm.
If he told them he wasn't actually a Leonheart, they might kill him. But if he lied, he could gain money and influence.
He decided to bet everything.
"I'm not from the Leonheart family," Kaelen said. "I'm a rebel."
Silence.
The crowd didn't believe him—at first. But they also knew: only a madman would dare call themselves a rebel. The laws of the kingdom were brutal. If someone was caught as a rebel, the punishment extended to three generations.
Kaelen continued, "My goal is to overthrow the king. And the Holy Church."
He was improvising, of course. But he remembered—every medieval monarchy had three things: a king, a church, and a suffering people.
"And what about you?" Kaelen asked the man. "What are you?"
The man opened his mouth but no words came out.
"We're just peasants," someone finally said. "Some of us have basic magic. Some practice swordplay in our spare time. We want a better life, that's all. Maybe I'm crazy for hoping—but I'm not a rebel. Just… angry."
Kaelen looked at them and said firmly, "Then you're nothing more than dogs. Afraid to bite the hand that beats you."
Murmurs broke out.
Some started to whisper: this man speaks like a noble… or a thinker.
And they were right. They needed a true leader.
The current one only led because he had water and wind magic.
Kaelen, deep down, smiled.
His gamble had paid off.