The next morning, the bells of Varrowyn tolled, summoning nobles and commoners alike to the city's grand forum — a vast courtyard of polished stone, surrounded by banners of silver and black. At its center stood a raised platform known as the Silver Hall, where decrees of law and trial were made before the people.
Kaelen stood there now, his armor catching the pale morning light, while Lord Deyran's voice rang out for all to hear.
"People of Varrowyn!" the lord declared, his words practiced and sharp. "A knight of Solareth comes before us, speaking of shadows and corruption. He would have us believe his queen yet holds strength enough to lead. But words alone cannot sway this hall."
He gestured toward Kaelen with a deliberate pause. "Thus, we place him to trial. By strength, by honor, by truth — let him prove that Solareth is not broken. Let him show us why Varrowyn should bleed for another's war."
A ripple of murmurs swept the crowd. Some sneered at the thought of aiding Solareth; others leaned forward with quiet hope.
Deyran's lips curved in a half-smile. "Knight of Solareth, you will face a champion of Varrowyn. If you stand victorious, I will grant your queen's words a seat at this council. If you fall…" He let the silence hang, heavy as steel.
Kaelen inclined his head, voice steady. "So be it."
From the opposite end of the hall, a figure strode forth. He was massive — broad-shouldered, towering a full head above Kaelen. His armor was dark iron, scarred by countless battles, and upon his back hung a warhammer heavy enough to crush stone.
"This is Garron," Deyran announced. "My most loyal captain. He has stood against raiders, beasts, and the darkspawn of the Veil that wander the wastes. Let him judge the worth of Solareth's champion."
The crowd roared as Garron drew his hammer, resting it upon the stone with a deep thud. His voice rumbled like distant thunder.
"Pray to your gods, Solareth dog. They may be the only ones who hear you when I break your bones."
Kaelen's gaze did not waver. "If the Veil could not break me, neither will you."
The platform was cleared, leaving only the two combatants. The crowd pressed close, eager for blood and spectacle.
A drumbeat began — slow, deliberate, echoing through the forum. With its third strike, Garron lunged.
The warhammer descended in a brutal arc, meant to end the fight at once. Kaelen sidestepped, the stone shattering where the hammer struck. Dust and fragments flew.
The knight answered with a swift strike, his blade flashing toward Garron's side. Sparks erupted as steel glanced against reinforced armor. Garron grunted but did not falter, swinging again in a wide arc that forced Kaelen back.
The duel became rhythm: hammer falling like a storm, blade answering with precision. Garron was raw force, Kaelen was controlled fire.
Yet as minutes passed, Kaelen felt the weight. His arms ached from deflecting blows; his breath came harder. Garron pressed him, relentless, each strike testing the limits of flesh and steel.
When Kaelen staggered under a particularly brutal strike, the whispers returned — louder, sharper, almost exultant.
Why hold back? He would crush you without hesitation. Take our strength. Let him taste what it means to fear.
Dark veins prickled along Kaelen's forearm beneath the gauntlet. He clenched his jaw, willing them down, but a part of him — the part that remembered Solareth's fall, the screams of his people — burned to answer.
Another blow crashed against his shield, sending him to one knee. The crowd roared Garron's name.
Kaelen's vision narrowed. His heart thundered. The whispers slid deeper.
Strike without mercy. Spill his blood. Let them see who you are.
For an instant, his hand trembled toward that abyss.
Then, through the noise, another voice reached him. Not from within, but from the crowd.
"Stand your ground, Solareth knight!"
Kaelen's eyes flicked sideways, just enough to catch Lysera among the onlookers. Her scarred face was fierce, her gaze locked on him as though willing strength into his bones.
"You've faced worse than this brute," she shouted. "Prove them wrong!"
Her words cut through the fog. The whispers recoiled, though faint tendrils lingered. Kaelen rose slowly, forcing his breath steady.
Not yet. He would not win by surrendering to the corruption. Not here, not before the eyes of a city he sought to sway.
Garron roared, charging again, hammer raised. This time, Kaelen did not retreat. He stepped in close, too close for the hammer's full swing, his blade darting like lightning.
Steel scraped across iron — once, twice, then found a gap at the shoulder. Blood welled. Garron bellowed and swung wildly, but Kaelen was already moving, circling like a predator.
The knight's strikes became relentless, each precise cut wearing down the giant's defenses. Garron swung again, but his movements slowed, his wounds mounting.
At last, Kaelen ducked beneath the hammer's arc and drove his blade upward, knocking the weapon from Garron's hands. It clattered to the stone with a resounding clang.
Kaelen's sword hovered at Garron's throat.
The forum fell silent.
For a long moment, Kaelen stared at his fallen opponent. His chest heaved with ragged breath, sweat stinging his eyes.
End it, the whispers urged. Show them what Solareth does to its enemies.
But Kaelen's hand did not move. Slowly, he lowered his blade.
"I am not here to kill your champions," he said, voice ringing clear. "I am here to remind you that we fight the same enemy. The Veil does not care for Varrowyn or Solareth. It will consume us all if we stand divided."
The silence stretched — then, slowly, the crowd erupted. Some cheered his victory, others whispered in awe, but none could deny what they had seen.
Even Garron, bloodied and kneeling, looked up with grim respect. "You… fight with honor. Stronger than most men I've known."
From his dais, Lord Deyran leaned forward, expression unreadable. He let the cheers wash through the hall before raising a hand for silence.
"You have fought well, knight of Solareth. Stronger than I expected. And merciful, when you need not have been." His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps there is more truth in your queen's words than I believed."
He rose, his cloak spilling like shadow across the steps. "Varrowyn will not yet march to war. But neither shall we turn our backs on Solareth. You will have audience in my council. Convince us, and perhaps the silver banners will march beside yours."
The crowd roared again, though Kaelen caught the calculating glint in Deyran's eyes. This was no true victory, only the opening of a longer game.
When the hall emptied, Kaelen found Lysera waiting by the gates. She smirked at him, arms crossed.
"Not bad," she said. "Almost thought you were going to let that hammer turn you into paste."
Kaelen allowed the faintest smile. "Your voice reminded me of who I am."
Her gaze flicked briefly to his arm, where faint shadows had pulsed during the fight. "Good. Because for a moment there, you looked ready to be someone else."
He said nothing, but her words struck true.
Lysera tilted her head. "Varrowyn's court will test you harder than any hammer. If you're serious about uniting the realms, you'll need more than a sword."
Kaelen met her eyes. "Then walk with me. Solareth needs soldiers who see beyond politics."
She hesitated, then nodded. "Very well. But don't think I'm following orders. I choose my battles — and right now, I choose to see where you lead."