The chaos of the fountain had not yet faded when the city began to buzz with whispers. By nightfall, every tavern, every market, every shadowed alley carried the same name: Darian Duskbane. The Outlaw Knight. The giant who defied the king's will. Some called him savior. Others warned that his rebellion would bring ruin. But no one — friend or foe — spoke without a hush in their voice, as if the man himself might step from the dark and hear.
In the grand hall of the palace, Mansis raged. His black cloak whipped behind him like a storm as he hurled a golden goblet across the marble floor. "Humiliation!" he snarled, his voice echoing against the high arches. "Before Halvek, before his lords, before half the cursed city — humiliation! Who dares mock my throne in my own square?"
Silas stood by, one hand pressed against his ribs where Darian's blow had left a deep bruise. His lip curled, both in pain and in fury. "It was him. The knight. Duskbane. I would know that mountain's shadow anywhere."
Mansis' eyes gleamed. "Then bring me his head, Silas. No excuses. No delays."
The knight bowed stiffly, the bruise deepening the snarl etched across his face. "He will not elude me again."
Behind the throne, Queen Nina stood silent, her veil shadowing her expression. She had spoken no word during Mansis' fury, but her heart beat quickly. For her, the fountain's crimson water had not been a mark of rebellion but of hope. Hope that Darian was still out there, still defying. Still strong. She turned her gaze away as Mansis barked more commands, already thinking of how to reach Darian again.
---
Darian moved like a phantom through the city, his bulk concealed in cloaks and shadows. By midnight, he reached the crypt beneath the cathedral — the place where Queen Serena had summoned him before. The torches there burned low, casting the stone effigies of dead kings in long, watchful silhouettes.
She was waiting for him, regal even in her mourning black, her silver hair coiled like a crown. Her eyes pierced through the shadows, sharp and unyielding.
"You," she said, voice trembling with suppressed fury. "You dare show yourself to me after such recklessness?"
Darian bowed his head, though not fully. "My lady."
She stepped forward, her voice hardening. "Do not 'my lady' me. You revealed yourself before half the city. You turned the Tirnovians against Mansis in open humiliation. Do you understand what risk you have placed upon us all? He will scour the city until he finds you."
"He will scour anyway," Darian replied, his deep voice calm, steady. "He always would."
Serena's hands clenched. "But you forced his hand sooner. I did not order you to act. I did not give you leave to interfere with the visit of King Halvek. And yet, you knew of it. How?"
The silence between them stretched. Torches crackled, their smoke curling like accusing fingers.
"How, Darian?" she pressed, her voice dropping lower. "No one outside the council was meant to know of Halvek's arrival. Who whispers in your ear? Who feeds you secrets? If you have another master, speak it now."
For a moment, Darian's face was unreadable stone. Then he said simply, "I cannot tell you."
Her eyes flashed. "You defy me?"
"I protect those who risk their lives to aid me," he said. "If you cannot trust me without knowing, then perhaps you cannot trust me at all."
The words struck like steel. Serena drew back a fraction, her breath sharp. She studied him, the great knight who had once been her son's loyal blade, the man now cloaked in rebellion. Doubt coiled in her heart. Was he truly hers to command — or his own, untethered and dangerous?
"You walk a perilous path, Sir Darian," she said at last, her voice low with warning. "If you think yourself beyond my command, you will find the crown is not so forgiving. Even in shadow, you are watched."
He inclined his head, but said no more. Their silence was heavy, thick with suspicion.
---
That night, when the palace had gone still, another figure slipped into the gardens. Queen Nina, her veil replaced with a simple hood, moved quickly through the moonlit paths until she reached the outer wall. A tall shadow detached itself from the ivy — Darian, waiting.
"You acted boldly," she whispered. "Too boldly. The whole court trembles, and Silas swears he will not rest until you are found."
Darian said nothing, his piercing gaze searching her face.
"But listen," she continued quickly. "There is more at stake than Silas' pride. Halvek did not come only to humiliate Mansis with demands. He came with an offer — an alliance in blood and war. He asks Harta to march beside Tirnovia against Zerathane."
"Zerathane?" Darian rumbled.
"A kingdom to the south," Nina explained. "Richer in gold than either of ours, ruled by King Veynor, a man feared as much for his cruelty as his armies. Halvek wants Mansis' men, coin, and ships to strike against him. If Mansis agrees, Harta will bleed for Halvek's conquest."
Darian's jaw clenched. "And Mansis will have an excuse to bleed his people further. Taxes, levies, drafts…"
"Exactly," she said. "The people will starve while their sons die in Halvek's war. You must stop this alliance before it takes root."
The knight was silent for a long moment, the moonlight silvering the scars on his face. "How much does Halvek trust Mansis?"
"Not much," Nina said. "He saw today's chaos. He suspects weakness. But if Mansis can prove his control — if the court appears strong — he will sign the treaty."
Darian's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. "Then we must show Halvek the rot beneath the crown. Without revealing myself."
Nina placed her hand lightly on his arm, her eyes shining. "Be careful, Darian. Silas hunts. And Serena —" She hesitated. "She doubts you. She wonders who you truly serve."
Darian's face darkened, unreadable. "Let her wonder. I serve not crowns, but the people."
They parted before dawn, each vanishing into shadow and silence.
---
In the days that followed, preparations for Halvek's council with Mansis moved quickly. Banners were hung, halls polished, banquets readied. Yet beneath the surface, fear twisted through the palace. Servants whispered of Darian moving unseen, of Silas prowling the halls like a hound, of nobles who spoke only in careful riddles lest they be accused of sympathy for the outlaw knight.
Darian, meanwhile, stalked the city's veins like blood in shadow. He listened to Halvek's men drinking in taverns, learned of their routes, their expectations, their doubts. He marked weak points in the palace kitchens, in the courtyards, in the guard rotations. If Halvek was to see Mansis' weakness, Darian would make sure of it.
And always, in the corner of his mind, the memory of Serena's sharp eyes lingered. She was not blind. She would not forgive disobedience again.
---
On the eve of the council, Silas sharpened his blade in his chamber, the candlelight glinting off his scarred face. His fury had not cooled since the fountain. "Duskbane," he muttered. "You will not hide forever. I will drag you from your shadows, and I will break you."
He stood, armored himself in black, and gave orders to his spies: watch the gates, the kitchens, the alleys. Darian would come again — Silas was certain of it.
And somewhere in the heart of the city, Darian finished preparing his tools: powders, locks, and steel. Tomorrow, the council would meet. Tomorrow, shadows would move again.
Tomorrow, the balance of kings would tremble.