Everyone turned to look at him.
"No," he repeated, louder. "I'm not going into 'imperial custody.' I'm not accepting Sanctum 'spiritual guidance.' And I'm done with Consortium 'protection' that leaves my forge vulnerable while guarding an empty street."
"Master Ashford—" Sylvie began.
"I'm done," Kieran said flatly. "With all of it. The partnership, the commissions, the whole arrangement."
Shocked silence rippled through the square.
"You can't void a System-binding contract," Sylvie said carefully.
"I'm not voiding it. I'm exercising the clause that lets me refuse commissions." Kieran met her eyes. "Starting now, I'm refusing all commissions. No new work. No artifact creation. Nothing."
"You're being emotional," Stone said. "You were just attacked, you're injured—this isn't the time to make rash decisions."
"This is the only time to make this decision," Kieran shot back. "Because I finally understand what everyone's been trying to tell me: my talent isn't freedom, it's a leash. The more I create, the tighter the leash gets. The Consortium, the Empire, the Sanctum—you all want the same thing. You want to control what I make, who I make it for, how I use my abilities. You just disagree about who should hold the leash."
He looked around at the assembled crowd—at Stone's calculating expression, at Sylvie's commercial concern, at Brother Cassian standing in the back with his theological certainty.
"So I'm cutting the leash," Kieran continued. "No more commissions means no more leverage. No more artifacts means no more 'strategic value.' I'll go back to making basic swords for local clients and being nobody important. That's all I ever wanted anyway."
"You can't hide what you are," Cassian called out. "You have a legendary gift. That truth doesn't disappear because you stop using it."
"No, but the urgency does. If I'm not producing S-rank artifacts, I stop being an immediate concern. You can all go fight over someone else."
"This is a mistake," Sylvie said quietly. "The Consortium can offer better protection, better terms. We can renegotiate—"
"Your protection let someone break into my forge and assault me," Kieran said bitterly. "Your security watched the front door while my back entrance went completely unmonitored. Your 'better terms' still mean I create what you want, when you want, for clients you select. That's not partnership. That's ownership with extra steps."
He turned to Mayor Fletcher. "I'm done here. The demonstration is complete. If anyone has legal objections to my decision to refuse commissions, they can file them through proper channels."
Fletcher nodded slowly. "The demonstration is concluded. Everyone disperse."
The crowd began breaking up, murmuring amongst themselves. Stone looked frustrated but couldn't argue with the legal conclusion. Sylvie appeared torn between anger and damage control calculations.
Kieran walked away from the temporary forge, his ribs screaming, his head pounding, his entire body trembling with exhaustion and residual adrenaline.
Celeste and Mira flanked him immediately.
"That was either very brave or very stupid," Celeste said.
"Probably both," Kieran admitted. "But I meant it. I'm done creating artifacts for people who see me as a resource."
"They're not going to accept this," Mira warned. "Stone will push harder. The Consortium will try to salvage their investment. The Sanctum will see this as an opening."
"Let them push. Let them try. I'll just keep refusing." Kieran laughed weakly. "What are they going to do, force me to forge? You can't compel quality craftsmanship. You can force me to make swords, but you can't force me to make good swords. And you certainly can't force me to make artifacts."
"They could try," Celeste said darkly.
"Then I'll destroy everything I make before it's finished. I'll sabotage my own work like I did in Greyhaven." The words came out harsh, desperate. "I survived one cage. I'll survive another if I have to. But I'm done voluntarily walking into them."
They reached the forge to find the Consortium's security detail had been replaced by a full squad—eight guards now instead of two, all looking professional and alert.
"Sylvie's response to the break-in," Mira said. "Too little, too late."
"Send them away," Kieran said. "I don't want Consortium guards. I don't want anyone's guards. I just want to be left alone."
"Kieran—"
"Please, Mira. Just... please. I need everyone to leave me alone for a while."
She studied his face, seeing something there that made her nod. "Okay. But I'm staying. And Celeste is staying. Everyone else goes."
The Consortium guards protested, citing their contract and Sylvie's orders, but Mira was immovable. Eventually they withdrew to watch from a distance, maintaining surveillance but no longer crowding the forge itself.
Inside, Kieran collapsed onto his stool and finally let the adrenaline crash hit him fully. His hands shook. His ribs throbbed. The cut on his temple had started bleeding again.
"Let me see that," Celeste said gently, producing a small healing potion from her pack. "You were running on pure spite out there."
"Spite and stubbornness," Kieran corrected, wincing as she cleaned the wound. "My two best qualities."
"Three," Mira said. "Don't forget overwhelming talent that attracts dangerous attention."
"Not helping."
"Wasn't trying to help. Trying to make you smile." She softened. "You did good today. Stood up to Stone, rejected the Consortium's inadequate protection, made your boundaries clear. That took courage."
"It took desperation," Kieran corrected. "There's a difference."
Celeste finished applying the healing potion, and the cut began knitting closed with faint tingling warmth. "What you did was dangerous. Stone isn't going to accept your refusal gracefully. Neither is the Sanctum. And the Consortium just lost its most valuable asset."
"I'm not an asset," Kieran said tiredly. "I'm a person. And I'm tired of being treated like inventory."
"I know." Celeste sat beside him, her presence solid and comforting. "But declaring independence doesn't make you free. It just means the fight gets harder."
"I know that too."
They sat in silence for a while, the forge quiet around them. Outside, Millhaven continued its daily rhythms, unaware that the quiet blacksmith had just declared war on everyone trying to control him.
"They'll come for me," Kieran said eventually. "Stone will push harder. The Sanctum will claim I'm wasting divine gifts. The Consortium will try to salvage their contract."
"Probably," Mira agreed.
"And I might not survive what comes next."
"Possibly."
"But at least it'll be my choice. My decision to fight instead of surrender."
"Definitely," Celeste said, and there was pride in her voice.
Kieran looked at his forge—his sanctuary, violated but still standing. His tools, scattered but intact. His workbench, overturned but repairable.
Everything could be fixed. Everything could be rebuilt.
As long as he didn't give up. As long as he kept fighting.
Even if the fight seemed impossible.
Especially then.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Let them come. Let them try to cage me again. I'll break before I bend."
"You won't break," Mira said firmly. "Not while we're here."
"We've got your back," Celeste added. "House Varnham might be minor nobility, but we're still nobility. That counts for something."
Kieran managed a weak smile. "Thank you. Both of you. For staying when you could have walked away."
"Where else would we go?" Mira asked. "You're the most interesting disaster I've ever managed."
"And you're the person who saw me struggling and chose to help," Celeste said simply. "That creates bonds stronger than contracts or politics."
They stayed like that as afternoon faded to evening—three people against the world, waiting for the next crisis, knowing it would come soon.
But for now, in this moment, Kieran wasn't alone.
And that made all the difference.
Outside, storm clouds were gathering—literal and metaphorical.
Inside, a blacksmith who'd finally found his spine prepared for war.
It wouldn't be easy.
It might not even be survivable.
But it would be his choice.
And that was worth fighting for.
That was worth everything.