Foundations of Nagarath
"They are no longer guests," he added. "They are Nagarath's soldiers now."
The words didn't rise in volume, yet they carried weight—like iron settling into place.
A ripple moved through both groups—Silver City and Blackthorn.
It wasn't loud. No cheers. No clash of steel against shields. Just the subtle shift of boots against stone, shoulders drawing back, eyes lifting.
Something subtle shifted in their posture.
Not pride.
Belonging.
Men who had stood apart moments ago now stood as one formation. Not allies. Not borrowed strength. Something more permanent.
Black placed a fist to his chest. "Understood."
His voice was steady, but Leon caught the flicker in his eyes. He understood what this meant. There would be no lines between them anymore—no old banners clung to in secret.
One of the Silver City captains stepped forward half a pace. "My king… does that mean our oaths are to be renewed?"
Leon's gaze moved to him. Calm. Measuring. "No."
