The grand hall of Everhart was alive with whispers. Marble pillars loomed on either side like watchful giants, their carved crowns vanishing into shadow. The chandeliers glittered overhead, yet their light seemed cold, unable to chase the tension that crawled along the floor like fog. Nobles filled the chamber, their silks and jewels flashing, their eyes sharp with judgment.
Andy stood at the center of the room, his back straight though his chest still ached with phantom fire. His blades had been taken from him as a matter of formality, but he did not need steel to feel their weight; every gaze upon him was its own kind of blade. At his side, Nia stood proud, her staff in her hand like a banner, her silver hair gleaming against the shadows.
Lord Everhart presided from his elevated seat, more judge than father. His voice carried over the murmurs, calm and commanding.
"Today we speak not of rumor, nor of panic, but of survival. Everhart has faced calamity, and Everhart has endured. Now the kingdom must know what rises in our walls: a Dragon Warrior." His gaze pinned Andy like a hawk's talon. "And legends, my lords and ladies, must be judged."
The nobles erupted in divided voices.
"A savior!" cried one older lord, striking his cane against the floor. "Without him, the city would have burned to nothing. We owe him gratitude!"
"Gratitude?" sneered a lady in crimson, her rings flashing. "Or suspicion? Dragons do not appear by chance. If he truly carries their blood, perhaps it was his presence that drew the beast here."
Andy's jaw tightened. The words echoed Andrew's from before, and he braced himself for the inevitable.
Andrew stepped forward. He was clad in polished armor that gleamed beneath the light, his blond hair neat, his posture dignified. The image of the dutiful heir—every inch of him rehearsed to perfection.
"My lords," he began, voice calm, almost sorrowful, "I mean no insult to the bravery shown that night. Andy's strength saved many lives, including my own." He paused, allowing the nobles to murmur agreement. "But should we not ask why the dragon came here? Why Everhart, of all places? Why now, when a stranger with fire in his blood appears among us?"
The chamber hushed. Heads turned toward Andy, suspicion thickening like smoke.
Andy's breath caught. "You think I summoned it?" His voice cut through the silence, low and incredulous.
Andrew raised his chin, his expression the picture of reluctant duty. "I do not accuse. I merely caution. Power such as his… can draw calamity. Can we truly say we are safe, so long as it runs unchecked?"
The words struck deep. The nobles broke into fresh whispers, some nodding, some shaking their heads. But the seed had been planted.
Nia stepped forward, fury blazing in her eyes. "Enough!" she snapped, her voice ringing across the hall. "Without him, this hall would be ash. Without him, you would be ash! He bled for this city, and still you dare to twist his sacrifice into suspicion?"
Andrew's jaw clenched, but he pressed on. "And if his fire burns us next? If control slips, as it did when he nearly collapsed before the beast? Will you bet the safety of Everhart on faith alone?"
Gasps echoed, sharp and cutting. The words were cruel, but undeniable: many had seen Andy falter, had seen him nearly consumed by his own power.
Andy felt the heat stir under his skin, molten anger begging to be unleashed. His hands shook, every instinct demanding he roar back, to burn the whispers to cinders. And then—
The chime of the System cut through the storm.
> [Engagement Task: Endure Betrayal]
Condition: Maintain trust in your partner despite doubt and accusation.
Reward: Bond +2% upon completion.
Andy froze, his rage checked by the cold reminder. This wasn't just politics. It was a trial.
He glanced at Nia. She looked back, her silver eyes unwavering, fierce. No matter what was said, her faith in him did not flicker.
Andy drew a slow breath. When he spoke, his voice was low, but steady, echoing across the chamber. "I'm not the one you should fear. The dragon came because something greater stirs. You can chain me, kill me, hide me—it won't stop what's coming. But if you trust me, if you let me fight… I will stand. For this city. For all of you."
His gaze lingered on Nia, just for a heartbeat too long. "For her."
The chamber rippled with uneasy energy. Some nobles shifted, ashamed. Others narrowed their eyes, clinging to suspicion.
Lord Everhart raised his hand, and silence fell instantly. His expression was unreadable, carved from stone. "Enough," he declared. "This matter is far from resolved. But for now, the Dragon Warrior remains under Everhart's protection. Guarded. Contained. Until I decide his worth."
The words dropped like shackles. Andy stiffened, fury simmering just beneath the surface, but Nia's hand brushed his arm again, a quiet anchor.
As the chamber emptied, nobles muttering among themselves, Andy lingered near the door. His shoulders were tense, his head bowed slightly. "They'll never trust me," he muttered.
Nia turned to him, her hand finding his once more. She held it firmly, her voice soft but resolute. "Then I'll trust you enough for all of them."
The System's chime was softer this time, like the quiet strike of a bell.
> [Task Complete: Endure Betrayal]
Bond Progression: +2%
Current Bond Level: 97%
Andy's chest loosened. The fire inside him still burned, but it no longer clawed at him. He turned, meeting Nia's eyes. The way she looked at him—unflinching, unwavering—was enough.
In the shadows beyond the chamber, Andrew remained. His fists clenched so tight his nails bit his palms. His teeth ground together until the taste of iron filled his mouth. He had seen it—Nia's hand in Andy's, her voice raised for him, her faith stronger than any chain. Every word carved deeper than a blade.
And in the stillness, something whispered. A voice not human, soft as smoke, curling like poison in the ear. Andrew's eyes widened slightly, his breath catching. He turned his head, searching for its source—but there was nothing. Only the shadows.
But the words lingered.
"You could have been more. You could still be."
Andrew's heart hammered. He should have turned away, should have silenced the thought. Instead, he clenched his fists tighter and listened.
The court had ended. But the true chains—the unseen, unbreakable ones—had just begun to tighten.
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