The Summons
Duke Aldren received the official summons five days after Evelina's departure.
It arrived with a royal courier bearing the seal of three kingdoms—Valorian's Heartlands, the Eastern Dominion, and the Merchant Confederacy. The wax was blood-red, and the parchment smelled of expensive ink and barely concealed threat.
Aldren read it in silence, his face draining of color with each line. When he finished, he set it down carefully, as if the paper itself might explode.
"They're charging me with treason," he said quietly.
The command post fell silent. Lioran, Kaelen, Torven, and Mira had been reviewing supply manifests. Now they turned to face the Duke.
"On what grounds?" Kaelen demanded.
"Supporting an enemy of the Church. Committing military forces against a sanctioned crusade. Conspiring with foreign powers—that would be the Frost Kingdoms—against the interests of southern stability." Aldren's laugh was bitter. "They've covered all the standard accusations. The only surprise is that it took this long."
"Who brought the charges?" Lioran asked, feeling the ember pulse with anger.
"The High Conclave, officially. But the summons is signed by representatives from three kingdoms, which means this isn't just Church politics. The secular powers have decided I'm a problem." Aldren stood, moving to the window. "I'm ordered to appear before a tribunal in Valorian's capital within ten days. If I don't, I'm declared outlaw and my lands are forfeit."
"It's a trap," Torven said flatly. "They know you can't defend yourself against those charges. You did everything they're accusing you of."
"Because it was right," Mira interjected. "Because the crusade was unjust, because Thornhaven deserved defense—"
"Right doesn't matter in a treason trial," Aldren interrupted gently. "Only law. And under current law, I committed treason the moment I stood against a Church crusade." He turned back to face them. "The question is whether I answer the summons or flee."
"Don't go," Lioran said immediately. "Stay here. Thornhaven will protect you."
"And become a sanctuary for outlaws?" Aldren shook his head. "That undermines everything you're trying to build. You're attempting to create legitimate governance, not a haven for fugitives. If I hide here, you validate every criticism that Thornhaven is lawless rebellion."
"So you'll just walk into their trap? Let them execute you for helping us?" Renn had entered during the conversation, his prematurely aged face showing the strain of too much responsibility too young.
"I'll face trial and speak truth. Perhaps that's worth something." Aldren managed a smile. "Besides, the Continental Council convenes in three weeks. If I can delay proceedings, if I can link my defense to the broader questions King Valorian wants addressed—there's a chance."
"A slim chance," Kaelen said.
"Better than none."
...
The Council's Response
An emergency session convened within the hour. Word had spread quickly—Duke Aldren facing treason charges for defending Thornhaven. The implications were staggering.
"If they convict him, every noble who supported us becomes vulnerable," Henrik said. "They're making an example. 'Side with the Dragon Lord, face the executioner.'"
"It's brilliant politics," Sister Elara admitted reluctantly. "They can't defeat Thornhaven militarily right now—the crusade's failure proved that. So they attack our political legitimacy instead. Isolate us by making the cost of alliance too high."
"Then we go public," Renn suggested. "Tell everyone what's happening. Make it impossible for them to quietly execute a duke who defended refugees."
"That might make it worse," Aldren countered. "If I become a public martyr before the trial even happens, they'll feel obligated to convict to save face. Better to keep it quiet and hope reasonable voices prevail."
"Reasonable voices?" Torven scoffed. "In a political tribunal? Your optimism is admirable, my lord, but misplaced."
Lioran had been silent, feeling the ember churn with frustration. This was a battle he couldn't fight with fire. No amount of power could burn away legal accusations or intimidate judges into fairness.
"What if you didn't go alone?" he said suddenly.
Everyone turned to look at him.
"The charges are that you supported me, correct? That you aided the Dragon Lord against Church authority?" Lioran stood. "Then I'll testify. I'll stand before their tribunal and take responsibility for your actions. You were defending someone who deserved defense—let me prove that."
"Absolutely not," Aldren said immediately. "You can't walk into Valorian's capital. They'll arrest you on sight. Or worse—use you as leverage to force Thornhaven's surrender."
"Not if I come under diplomatic protection," Lioran countered. "As a speaker invited to the Continental Council. King Valorian's summons guarantees safe conduct to all invited parties. If I arrive early, if I invoke that protection—"
"That's not how it works," Kaelen interrupted. "Safe conduct applies to the Council itself, not to criminal proceedings beforehand."
"But the optics matter," Mira said slowly, understanding Lioran's thinking. "If the Dragon Lord voluntarily appears to defend his ally, if he places himself at risk to take responsibility—that's not what monsters do. That's what leaders do."
"It's also suicide," Torven muttered.
"Maybe," Lioran admitted. "But Duke Aldren risked his life and house to defend us. The least I can do is stand beside him when the cost comes due."
Aldren was quiet for a long moment. "If you do this, if you actually appear at my trial, you can't use fire. Can't threaten. Can't let the ember speak for you. You'd have to be completely human, completely vulnerable."
"I know."
"They'll mock you. Call you demon, monster, heretic. They'll display every crime attributed to you, whether true or fabricated. They'll try to break you publicly to discredit everything Thornhaven represents."
"I know," Lioran repeated.
"And if things go badly, if they decide to simply seize you regardless of safe conduct, your power might be the only thing keeping you alive. But using it would prove their point—that you're too dangerous to negotiate with."
"I. Know." Lioran met Aldren's eyes. "But you stood with me when I had nothing. When Thornhaven was a dream held together by desperate refugees and impossible hope.
You risked your house, your honor, your life. I won't let you face the consequences alone."
The ember roared in protest, screaming that this was madness, that walking into enemy territory without using his full power was tactical suicide, that mercy and honor were luxuries the weak used to comfort themselves before they died.
But through the Soul Binding, faint across the distance, Lioran felt Evelina's presence.
Her belief that he could be more than fire. Her trust that humanity was strength, not weakness.
"I'll need three days to prepare," Lioran said. "To select who accompanies me, to prepare testimony, to arrange for Thornhaven's governance in my absence. Then we ride for the capital together."
"The council should vote on this," Henrik said. "This affects all of us."
They voted. It was close—four in favor, three opposed, with several abstaining. But it passed.
Lioran would accompany Duke Aldren to face treason charges in the heart of enemy territory, with only words and hope as weapons.
...
Preparations
The next three days were chaos.
Lioran selected five companions for the journey: Kaelen as military advisor, Sister Elara as religious authority, Mira as his mother and moral anchor, Renn as representative of the new generation, and Clara—the refugee mother who'd first believed in Thornhaven—as living testimony.
"Not a large force," Torven observed. "Barely a bodyguard."
"That's the point," Lioran said. "I'm not arriving as a warlord with an army. I'm arriving as a leader with people who believe in what we've built."
Mira spent hours coaching him on court etiquette, on how to address nobles without triggering their pride, on the subtle language of politics that seemed deliberately designed to obscure truth.
"When they call you heretic, don't respond with anger," she instructed. "Acknowledge their concern, then redirect to what you've actually done. Not 'I'm not a heretic,' but 'I understand why my actions concern you. Let me explain what Thornhaven actually represents.'"
"That sounds like weakness."
"It sounds like someone secure enough not to need constant validation. There's a difference." Mira squeezed his hand. "You're walking into a room full of people who've spent their lives playing power games. Your advantage is that you're not playing—you're genuinely trying to build something better. Use that."
Renn worked with Lioran on controlling the ember under pressure. "They'll provoke you," Renn said during one practice session. "They'll say things designed to make you snap, to prove you're unstable. You need to be able to hold fire dormant even when every instinct screams to burn."
They practiced for hours—Renn insulting Lioran, mocking Thornhaven, calling Mira worthless, anything to trigger emotional response. Each time, Lioran had to keep the ember quiet, had to let the words wash over him without igniting.
It was harder than any physical battle he'd fought.
Sister Elara prepared theological arguments, anticipating questions about divine authority and Church doctrine. "They'll ask how you justify standing against God's ordained representatives. You need an answer that doesn't rely on 'because I'm powerful enough to do it.'"
"What's the right answer?"
"That you're not standing against God—you're questioning whether the Church's interpretation is the only valid one. That faith and institution aren't the same thing.
That the divine is bigger than any human power structure." Elara smiled sadly. "It won't satisfy them, but it'll plant doubt."
Duke Aldren handled logistics—safe routes, friendly inns, contingency plans if things went catastrophically wrong. "If they seize you," he said bluntly, "if they decide safe conduct doesn't apply, you need an escape plan."
"I won't burn their capital to escape," Lioran said.
"Even to save your life?"
"Even then. Because if I do, everything we've built collapses. Thornhaven becomes exactly what they claim—a cult of personality around a fire mage who solves problems with violence."
"Noble sentiment," Aldren said. "But nobility is cold comfort when you're dead."
.....
The Night Before
The night before departure, Lioran couldn't sleep. He stood on the wall, watching refugees move through Thornhaven's streets. Eight thousand souls now, maybe more.
All depending on decisions made by a boy who'd been a peasant six months ago.
The ember pulsed, offering its usual solution: burn the threats, scatter the enemies, rule through power because power was the only language the world understood.
But Evelina's voice echoed in his memory: Don't let ancient power speak when you need human wisdom.
"I'm scared," Lioran admitted to the empty air.
"Good," Mira said, climbing up to join him. "Fear means you understand what's at stake. Only fools are fearless before walking into enemy territory."
"What if I fail? What if they execute Aldren anyway, and I can't stop it without proving them right about me?"
"Then you fail, and we live with the consequences. But at least you'll have tried. At least you'll have proven that the Dragon Lord doesn't hide behind fire when the real test comes."
She took his hand. "You know what I'm proudest of? Not the power. Not surviving crusades. But this—you choosing to be vulnerable when you could be invincible.
That's the son I raised."
Dawn came too quickly.
The small party assembled at Thornhaven's gate. Hundreds gathered to see them off, faces worried, voices raised in blessings and prayers.
Lioran mounted his horse, feeling the weight of their hope like physical pressure.
Ahead lay a week's ride to the capital. Then a treason trial where words would matter more than fire. Where humanity would be tested against power.
The ember churned restlessly, sensing danger.
But for once, Lioran welcomed that unease.
Because walking into the fire unarmed was exactly the kind of impossible task that might just change everything.
If he survived.