From Deadbeat noble to Top Rank Swordsman

Morning broke over the fortress with slow, reluctant light. The air was heavy, damp with the kind of stillness that came before storms—or verdicts.

Leon stood at the parapet, eyes scanning the mist-covered valleys below. From here, the world looked like it was holding its breath. The Citadel banners hadn’t yet arrived, but the fortress sentinels had already raised the neutral standard, an iron-grey pennant with no crest, no loyalty. Only silence.

Footsteps approached behind him. Kellen.

"The scribes have begun copying the recordings," he said. "They’ve already contacted three Orders. One of them responded. The Order of Stone. They’re sending a hearing circle. Could arrive before nightfall."

Leon gave a nod, his jaw tight. "And the others?"

"No word. But you know what silence means."

Leon didn’t answer. His gaze remained fixed.

In the main hall, Eliane spread a map across the central table. Marien joined her, arms crossed, eyes shadowed with fatigue.

"This place isn’t built to hold a siege," Eliane said. "If more than one Order comes demanding the blade or the boy, we won’t be able to resist by force."

"Then we don’t fight," Marien replied. "We use the laws they buried. Force them to face what they’ve signed."

Eliane tapped a mark on the map. "The Circle Chamber. It’s still intact. The stones there were laid in the Unity Accord. No one can dispute the records if shown there. Not legally."