"Summon the royal physician," Alistair orders.
Guards move immediately.
Gold trim flashes as one dismounts and approaches with a satchel.
I feel the blood running warm down my side.
The proctor presses harder against the wound.
"Don't move," he mutters.
Alistair steps closer.
"You will be treated," he says. "Whatever your excesses here, Aurethar does not deny aid."
Excesses.
I look up at him.
"Keep it."
Silence.
The medic hesitates.
Alistair's eyes narrow.
"You are bleeding out."
"I'll manage."
"You will accept treatment."
"No."
The word comes out flat.
Final.
His jaw tightens.
"This is not optional."
I feel something coil under my ribs.
Hot.
Ugly.
"You don't get to stab me," I say slowly, "and then pretend you're generous."
A guard inhales sharply.
Lysandra's eyes flick between us.
Alistair's tone hardens.
"I acted to neutralize a threat."
"A threat?" I laugh once — short and humorless. "You didn't even ask."
"You were standing over forty corpses."
"They were trying to burn your carriage."
"They could have been restrained."
"They were forty."
His voice rises slightly.
"You escalated."
I feel the anger spike.
I push the proctor's hands away and force myself upright.
Pain flares, but I ignore it.
"No," I snap. "They escalated. I ended it."
"You exceeded force."
"Under contract."
"You hide behind authorization like it absolves brutality."
That's it.
Something cracks.
"Brutality?" I step forward despite the guards tensing. "Your men were dead. They would've gutted your sister. And you have the nerve to call it brutality?"
"Mind your tone."
"Fuck my tone."
The clearing freezes.
The proctor goes very still.
Lysandra's eyes widen slightly.
Alistair's expression turns icy.
"You forget who you're addressing."
"No," I say quietly. "I don't."
Blood drips steadily into the dirt.
"You nobles love that line," I continue. "Hierarchy. Position. Authority. You see blood and assume the worst because it doesn't wear your colors."
His jaw tightens.
"You attract instability," he says. "Every report—"
"Every report written by your kind," I cut in. "Edited. Cleaned. Protected."
A flicker of something moves through his expression.
I take another step.
Guards tense harder.
"I don't want your help," I say. "I don't want your protection. I don't want your fucking mercy."
The words feel good leaving my mouth.
Honest.
"You think you preserve order?" I continue. "You preserve yourselves."
"That's enough," Alistair snaps.
"No," I fire back. "It isn't."
Lysandra steps between us.
"Ren—"
I freeze slightly at my name.
Then I look at her.
"You're different," I say bluntly. "You read the report. You actually looked."
Her expression tightens.
"But him?" I jerk my chin toward Alistair. "He saw a commoner with a sword and didn't hesitate."
Alistair's voice drops dangerously.
"You speak treason lightly."
"I speak truth."
The forest is dead silent.
"I don't trust nobles," I say plainly. "Not after the academy. Not after the chamber. Not after this."
The word chamber hangs heavy.
Alistair doesn't understand it.
Lysandra does.
"You don't get to touch me again," I say, meeting his eyes directly. "Not unless you plan to finish it."
Guards exchange uneasy glances.
The proctor clears his throat.
"He's under guild authority," he says carefully. "If he refuses treatment, that's his decision."
Alistair looks between us.
"You would let him walk out of here bleeding?"
"Yes," I answer before the proctor can.
"I'd rather bleed out in the forest than owe you anything."
That lands.
Hard.
Lysandra's anger shifts into something else.
Concern.
"Ren," she says quietly, "you'll die."
"I won't."
The mark beneath my sternum pulses faintly.
Controlled.
Waiting.
Alistair stares at me.
"You think rejecting aid makes you righteous?"
"No," I say.
"I think accepting it lets you pretend you didn't just try to pin this on me."
That hits.
Guards look at the bodies again.
At the arranged guards.
At the scorch marks near the carriage wheel.
Alistair's composure cracks just slightly.
"You are unstable," he says.
"And you're blind."
Silence slams down.
Wind moves through leaves.
Blood soaks into soil.
I turn away from him.
Each step hurts.
I don't care.
"Next time," I say without looking back, "ask before you stab."
The forest is silent except for shifting armor and uneasy horses.
I don't look at Alistair again.
Instead, I turn toward one of the surviving royal guards — older than the others, steady despite the chaos.
"You," I say.
He stiffens.
I don't raise my voice.
"Make sure their bodies are returned properly."
I nod toward the two guards laid side by side.
"And their belongings."
He hesitates.
Glances toward Alistair.
Then back at me.
"They will be honored," he says carefully.
"Not honored," I reply flatly. "Returned."
The distinction hangs in the air.
His jaw tightens slightly.
"…Understood."
I turn away before anyone else can speak.
The proctor moves beside me without being asked.
"You're losing too much blood," he mutters.
"I know."
We step past the edge of the clearing.
Past the bodies.
Past the carriage.
Past the nobles.
I don't look back.
The forest swallows sound quickly.
Each step sends heat through my side.
My breathing grows heavier.
"You should've taken the treatment," the proctor says quietly.
"No."
"You've got something against nobles?"
"Yes."
He snorts once.
"Can't argue that."
We walk in silence for several minutes.
The trees blur slightly at the edges.
The white strands fall into my vision again.
I blink them away.
"You handled that wrong," the proctor adds after a moment.
"I know."
"You handled it right too."
That almost makes me laugh.
Almost.
The road appears ahead.
Then the capital's outer structures.
The guild hall stands where it always does.
Loud.
Crowded.
Normal.
We push through the doors.
Noise crashes over us.
Conversations pause mid-sentence.
Eyes turn.
The proctor shouts toward the back.
"Medic!"
I take two more steps.
The room tilts.
The floor feels farther away than it should.
Someone swears.
Hands grab at my shoulders.
The sound of metal hitting wood echoes faintly as my sword slips from my grip.
Then—
Nothing.
I wake up irritated.
Not confused.
Not disoriented.
Irritated.
The ceiling is polished marble.
The air hums faintly with structured mana.
There are guards in the room.
Of course.
Pain pulls tight across my abdomen when I shift.
Bandaged.
Through-and-through.
They saved me.
Of course they did.
"You're awake," Alistair says.
He's standing at the foot of the bed.
Composed.
Controlled.
"You stabbed me," I reply.
"You were a threat."
I swing my legs off the bed and sit up slowly.
He watches carefully.
"You killed forty men."
"They were attacking your sister."
"They were criminals."
"They were organized."
"They were retreating."
"They were regrouping."
"You cannot prove that."
I stop.
I look at him carefully.
"You read the report," I say.
"Yes."
"Which one."
His expression doesn't change.
"The compiled account from noble witnesses."
Not the full one.
Interesting.
"Did you read the guild proctor's statement."
A pause.
"I reviewed the summary."
"Did you read his full account."
"I was briefed."
"That's not what I asked."
Silence.
"Did you read the section about the torch."
He blinks once.
"What torch."
There it is.
"The one pressed to the carriage wheel," I say evenly. "The one that burned through lacquer before I intervened."
A guard near the wall shifts slightly.
Alistair doesn't answer immediately.
"The noble statement did not mention—"
"No," I say quietly. "It didn't."
I stand slowly despite the pain.
He doesn't stop me.
"Did you read the part about the guard dragged by the throat," I continue, "or just the body count."
"I was informed that excessive force was used."
"That's not what I asked."
His jaw tightens.
"You were standing over forty corpses."
"Did you read the part where reinforcements emerged from the eastern treeline."
"I was told—"
"Told."
Silence.
I step closer.
"Did you read the bandit inventory list."
"What list."
"The one recovered from their leader's body. The one that included noble carriage schedules."
His eyes sharpen.
"That was not in the brief."
Of course it wasn't.
"Did you read the Windmere resonance report."
"That was unrelated."
"It was attached."
His gaze shifts slightly.
"They provided a summarized conclusion."
"Did you read the full account."
"I reviewed what was necessary."
"No," I say. "You reviewed what was convenient."
The guards feel the shift in tone.
"You imply negligence."
"I imply filtration."
"I acted based on what I saw."
"You acted based on what you expected."
"I saw blood."
"You saw a commoner."
His eyes flash.
"You tread dangerously."
"Did you read the Thornmere resonance backlash report."
Silence.
"What report."
"The one detailing that their probe made contact with something it could not map."
A guard inhales sharply.
Alistair's composure slips for half a second.
"That was not relevant to the forest."
"It was relevant to motive."
"You are deflecting."
"No," I reply evenly. "I'm clarifying."
His voice cools.
"You are unstable."
"Did you read the section where the proctor stated I initially attempted subjugation."
He doesn't answer.
"Did you read the casualty timing breakdown."
His silence stretches.
"You didn't," I say.
"I was informed you exceeded force."
"You were informed."
"I am Crown."
"And you didn't verify."
His jaw tightens.
"I do not personally investigate every skirmish."
"You personally stabbed me."
Silence.
The guards freeze.
"You were a threat."
"You didn't even know what happened."
"I saw enough."
"You saw the end."
"That was sufficient."
"For who."
"For protecting my sister."
"There it is."
He stiffens.
"You center yourself," I say quietly. "Every time."
His eyes narrow.
"I acted to protect my blood."
"You acted to protect your certainty."
"You imply I was careless."
"I imply you were comfortable."
The air feels heavier now.
"You don't trust nobles," he says.
"That's not the point."
"You don't trust the Crown."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is."
"The point," I say slowly, "is that you never actually read what happened."
"I was briefed."
"You were shielded."
"I rely on structured reports."
"You rely on curated ones."
His voice sharpens.
"You accuse the Crown of ignorance."
"I accuse the Crown of insulation."
The guards shift uneasily.
"You believe nobles are targeting you."
"I believe nobles protect themselves."
"You believe I am complicit."
"I believe you didn't care enough to check."
Silence stretches.
He doesn't deny that.
He can't.
"You were a threat," he repeats.
"You didn't even know what the threat was."
His composure cracks slightly.
"You speak boldly for someone under supervision."
I laugh once.
"Supervision."
"You are volatile."
"I am informed."
"You are dangerous."
"I am inconvenient."
His eyes sharpen.
"You resent nobles."
"Yes."
"You resent hierarchy."
"I resent ignorance wrapped in authority."
The words hang in the air.
"You think I should have hesitated."
"Yes."
"In a clearing full of bodies."
"Yes."
"You expect me to risk my sister."
"I expect you to ask a question."
His jaw tightens.
"You are unreasonable."
"No," I say quietly. "You're insulated."
Silence.
The guards feel it now.
Not anger.
Realization.
"You should have killed me when you had the chance," I say.
The room freezes.
His expression hardens.
"What."
"You should have killed me when you had the chance," I repeat. "At least this bullshit would finally be over."
A guard swears under his breath.
"You are out of control."
"No," I say calmly. "I'm tired of being measured by people who won't even read."
The mana lattice hums faintly.
The mark pulses once.
Heavy.
Contained.
Then—
The doors open.
No knock.
No announcement.
They simply open.
The Royal Advisor steps inside.
Silver-lined cloak.
Measured gaze.
He takes in the room instantly.
Me standing.
Alistair rigid.
Guards tense.
"Your Highness," he says calmly.
Then he looks at me.
"You will accompany us to the throne room."
I don't break eye contact with Alistair.
"Does the King know," I ask quietly, "that you didn't read the full report."
Silence.
The advisor's gaze sharpens.
"The King has been informed," he says evenly.
"By whom," I ask.
"Noble testimony."
Of course.
"Good," I reply.
Alistair stiffens.
"You will conduct yourself properly."
"No," I say evenly. "I'll conduct myself accurately."
The advisor studies me for a moment longer.
"Walk carefully," he says.
I step forward despite the pain.
The guards part.
Alistair falls in beside me.
The throne room is colder than I expected.
Not physically.
Structurally.
White marble pillars rise toward vaulted ceilings etched with royal sigils. Light spills through high windows, cutting sharp lines across the polished floor.
The King sits at the center.
Calm.
Composed.
Not angry.
Not irritated.
Just observant.
To his right stands Alistair.
To his left—Lysandra.
She watches differently.
Below them, arranged in a semi-circle:
Valemont.
Windmere.
Thornmere.
Arclight.
The fathers.
The real power.
I stop at the center of the hall.
Pain radiates faintly from my side.
I ignore it.
The Royal Advisor steps forward.
"Your Majesty," he says smoothly. "This is Ren, the adventurer involved in the forest incident."
The King studies me.
His gaze is not hostile.
Just assessing.
"You are injured," he says.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"How."
I glance at Alistair.
The Prince's posture stiffens slightly.
"There was an altercation," he says smoothly. "The adventurer exceeded force during a bandit subjugation."
The King's brow furrows slightly.
"Exceeded."
"He eliminated forty men."
The word eliminated is deliberate.
I keep my voice steady.
"They were attempting to burn your daughter's carriage."
The King turns to Lysandra.
She inclines her head.
"That is correct."
The hall shifts slightly.
Valemont clears his throat.
"Your Majesty, while the bandits were indeed hostile, the method employed was excessive."
Of course.
"Excessive," I repeat evenly.
The King looks back to me.
"Explain."
"I was under guild contract to subjugate an organized bandit group," I say calmly. "They intercepted the carriage. Reinforcements emerged from the treeline. Subjugation failed."
"You chose extermination," Thornmere says coolly.
"Under authorized clause."
"You could have disengaged," Arclight adds.
"With the Princess inside the carriage."
Silence.
The King's gaze shifts slightly toward Alistair.
"My son informed me you were unstable."
There it is.
Unstable.
"I was stabbed before I was questioned," I reply evenly.
Silence crashes through the hall.
The King's head turns slowly.
"Stabbed."
Alistair steps forward immediately.
"He was standing over forty corpses."
"That was not my question," the King says quietly.
The room stills.
"Did you stab him."
A pause.
"Yes."
"Without inquiry."
"He was a threat."
"To whom."
"To order."
The King's eyes narrow faintly.
"You perceived him as a threat."
"Yes."
Lysandra steps forward slightly.
"Father."
He gestures for her to continue.
"He intervened before the carriage was breached," she says calmly. "Had he not acted when he did, I would not be standing here."
The fathers shift subtly.
Valemont speaks carefully.
"Your Majesty, this adventurer has a documented history of volatility. The academy incident—"
"The academy incident," I repeat.
The King turns to me.
"You were interrogated."
"Yes."
"Under suspicion of abducting a Windmere heir."
"Yes."
"That suspicion was unfounded."
"Yes."
The King looks to Windmere.
Elara's father inclines his head slightly.
"It was resolved."
"Resolved," I repeat quietly.
Alistair steps forward again.
"Father, the interrogation was lawful under noble jurisdiction. The instability he demonstrated during that time was—"
Lysandra cuts in.
"Brother."
Just that.
The tone is sharp enough.
He stops.
"You are blending separate events," she says evenly. "The interrogation was initiated under false pretenses. The forest incident was separate. They should not be merged to shorten this discussion."
The King studies her.
Then Alistair.
Then me.
"Were you mistreated during interrogation," he asks calmly.
The fathers shift again.
I keep my voice measured.
"I was suspended for three days and subjected to layered resonance extraction."
The hall grows very quiet.
The King's gaze shifts slowly across the four fathers.
"Was this necessary."
No one answers immediately.
"Your Majesty," Valemont begins, "he is… unusual."
That word again.
The King's eyes sharpen.
"That was not my question."
Silence.
Alistair tries again.
"Father, regardless of prior events, he displayed excessive lethality in the forest. That is the immediate issue."
Lysandra doesn't look at him this time.
She looks at me.
"He attempted subjugation first," she says calmly. "The proctor confirmed that."
The King nods slightly.
"I have reviewed the proctor's statement," he says.
That surprises me.
"Then you know," I reply evenly.
"I know that you acted decisively," he says.
Decisively.
Not excessively.
That distinction matters.
The King leans slightly forward.
"You saved my daughter."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And yet you stand here resentful."
"Yes."
A few of the fathers bristle at that.
"You speak plainly," the King observes.
"I prefer clarity."
"Do you believe the Crown seeks to harm you."
I pause.
This is where it matters.
"I believe," I say carefully, "that nobles close ranks quickly."
The fathers stiffen.
"I believe," I continue, "that I have been measured more than heard."
The King does not interrupt.
"I do not accuse you, Your Majesty," I add. "But I do not trust the insulation around you."
Silence.
The words settle heavily.
Alistair steps forward again.
"Father, this is precisely the instability I referenced—"
"Enough," Lysandra says sharply.
The room freezes.
She rarely raises her voice.
"You stabbed him before questioning him," she says calmly now. "You did not read the full report. Do not frame this as balanced review."
Alistair goes rigid.
The King looks at him slowly.
"You did not read the full report."
A pause.
"I was briefed."
"That was not my question."
Silence.
The King exhales slowly.
Then looks at me again.
The King leans back slowly.
"That," he says quietly, "is not a perception I can ignore."
The tension in the hall shifts.
Subtly.
Power is moving.
I incline my head slightly.
"I am not your enemy, Your Majesty," I say calmly. "But I will not pretend I feel safe among your nobles."
The distance is deliberate.
Respectful.
But not loyal.
And for now, the King notices what I have been dealing with till now.