The clan leader's eyes lingered on me long after I had finished speaking. His stare was heavy, searching—not for answers, but for cracks. Doubt, hesitation, fear… he hunted for them like a predator stalking prey.
He found none.
Without asking for dismissal, I turned from his chamber and walked out, steps steady, the faint echo of my boots trailing behind me like a declaration.
---
By afternoon, the air within the settlement had changed. The whispers were everywhere. Word had spread—Vice Leader Ysera's condition had stabilized. The poison had retreated, her fever broken. The antidote I'd given had worked.
The news ran through the camp like wildfire, lighting torches of relief and awe. Some eyes turned toward me with newfound respect. Others, with sharper suspicion. Gratitude could be twisted as easily as distrust.
It wasn't long before another summons arrived. This time, the messenger bowed low, refusing to meet my gaze. His trembling voice was careful, as though bearing the weight of something sacred.
"The Chief… calls you to the Stone."
I already knew what it meant. What Braska expected.
So I went without hesitation.
---
The sacred grounds were unlike the bustling camp outside. Here, silence reigned. The forest canopy hung heavy overhead, filtering sunlight into thin spears of gold that pierced the still air.
At the center stood a single monolith—an unyielding block of dark stone, carved with runes so ancient they had worn smooth under the press of countless hands. Moss clung to its base. Cracks lined its surface, yet there was no mistaking the gravity that radiated from it.
The Stone of Truth.
A monument and a weapon, both.
Braska stood waiting, surrounded by a handful of elders and warriors. Their presence was not ceremonial. They were witnesses.
When I arrived, the leader spoke, his voice deep and steady, carrying the weight of a century-old tradition.
"Prince," he said, solemn, "this ground is hallowed to our people. A century ago, when disaster threatened our existence, an angel descended from the skies. She saved our ancestors and gifted us this."
He gestured toward the monolith.
"The Stone of Truth. Whoever lays their hand upon it and utters falsehood… dies. No warning. No chance. Death, swift and absolute."
His gaze sharpened. "So I advise you to think carefully before you speak."
It was meant to intimidate. To remind me that here, in this forest, under this sky, I stood not as heir to an empire but as a guest under their laws.
But fear was never an emotion I dealt in.
The novel never spoke of this trial. The protagonist had never faced such scrutiny—perhaps because fate had written him as trustworthy in their eyes. But me? I was an anomaly. A disruption to their script.
If they sought to measure me by this stone, I would let them.
---
Without a word, I stepped forward.
The stone loomed larger up close, its surface cold beneath my palm. The runes glowed faintly at my touch, as if stirring awake. I felt the eyes of every elder fix upon me.
I drew in a breath and let my voice cut through the stillness.
"Whatever happened within your clan—I had no hand in it. I am not guilty of any crime."
The runes pulsed softly, but no spark leapt, no curse fell.
"Yes, our kingdoms are at odds. But I have never acted to destroy yours."
The glow deepened, steady.
"The truth is—I know who is behind this attack. And I swear to you, he is my enemy, not my ally. I also know this was not orchestrated by an outsider alone. Someone from your tribe helped him."
Murmurs stirred behind Braska. The elders shifted uneasily.
"I can find that traitor. And when I do—I want your people beside me. Not only as allies, but as brothers-in-arms."
The glow of the runes brightened, as if approving.
I let silence stretch, then delivered the next words with deliberate weight.
"In return, I offer something real: alliance through marriage. I will take a woman of your tribe as my concubine. I will not lie—she will never be Queen or Empress. But she will be protected, respected, and no harm shall come to her while I live."
The elders frowned, some whispering fiercely, but the stone remained still.
"Once that marriage is sealed, your tribe becomes my home as well. I will defend it as my own."
I leaned closer to the stone, voice sharpening to a blade.
"But… if she—or any of your people—betrays me, if they spy, if they leak secrets, if they stand with my enemies—then I swear on this Stone, I will erase your tribe from history. No mercy. No survivors. I will cross every line, burn every path, to make it so."
The runes flared once, then dimmed. No curse. No death.
Because every word I spoke was truth.
The silence afterward was suffocating.
Braska stared, stunned. A guest—an outsider—had stood before the holiest relic of his people and declared both promise and annihilation in the same breath. And the Stone, the divine judge, had accepted it.
Not one elder dared move.
I withdrew my hand, turned, and walked away before Braska could muster words. Not out of fear, but because I had no need of his response.
I had given him clarity.
He would now weigh me differently—not as an equal guest under his roof, but as the shadow of something larger. A future Emperor.
He was only a tribe leader. That distance needed to be clear.
---
Back in my quarters, I sank into a chair, boots propped carelessly on the table's edge. The weight of the trial still lingered in the back of my mind, but I did not let it press me down.
The Prince was waiting, his voice rising within me the moment I settled.
"That was… powerful. I'll admit, I'm satisfied. From the beginning, Braska tried to meet us as equals, to test, to measure, to command the tone. But after today? He knows where he stands."
His approval was edged with caution.
"Still… don't you think you revealed too much? You gave away too many cards. You could have waited for his questions, answered only what was necessary. Intimidation is useful—but overexposure weakens the hand."
I tilted my head back, letting a faint smirk curl my lips.
"No," I answered inwardly, calm and unyielding. "Letting him question me would've been the mistake."