Archmage Lago's eyes widened. Something dangerous flickered behind them—recognition. Every rumor, every tale he'd heard about this young man… verified.
He understood instantly: this boy was a threat. A clear and present danger to the Zuni Empire. If left unchecked—who knew what he might become?
"King Hellion," Telamon said smoothly, "may I present Cadet Ironheart."
He spoke mostly to ensure Cane didn't forget protocol.
Unbothered, Cane bowed respectfully. "Your Majesty."
King Hellion smiled. "Cadet Ironheart. It's good to finally put a name to the f—"
His words stopped as Cane stepped forward and extended his hand.
The King hesitated for only a second… then his smile deepened, and he shook the young man's hand.
"Just call me Cane, Your Majesty."
Gasps rustled through the chamber. A boy under stars, shaking hands with the King.
Telamon cleared his throat. "Cane—would you tell us who the woman seated here is?"
Cane's gaze swept across the room, his eyes flickering with white and blue starlight. "Executive Officer Brea," he said. "Formerly of Raptor Battalion."
King Hellion leaned forward. "Anything else you'd like to add?"
Cane nodded once. "She can't be a Zuni officer. I believe she stole that uniform—and the name of its owner, Sub-Commander Ferine Shaw."
The council erupted in whispers. Even the spectators murmured.
Only Telamon remained unmoved, his expression mild.
King Hellion tapped his gavel. Silence fell.
"Explain," the King commanded.
Cane's voice was steady. "My team captured this officer-turned-bandit in the Neutral Zone—territory currently off-limits to either military. If Brea is truly a Zuni Sub-Commander, then her presence is a serious violation of the War Accord."
"What? I'm an officer of the Zuni Empire!" Brea snapped—but Telamon silenced her with a wave.
"We also found a warehouse," Cane went on, "stocked with enough supplies to support either side in the coming conflict. I believe her plan was to sell to both and vanish with the profit."
Lago stared at him, hate simmering in his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to obliterate this boy.
King Hellion looked to Telamon. "Let's hear from the Zuni representative."
Telamon approached the holo image. "You are permitted a brief statement. Be respectful. Do not test my patience."
The image of Lago sharpened. His cold eyes scanned the prisoner… then Cane… and finally the King.
"I've no idea who this woman is," he said calmly. "Sub-Commander Ferine Shaw is missing in action and presumed dead. Her loss is deeply felt. I am close friends with her family."
Chaos.
The council erupted. The prisoner thrashed, her gagged mouth shouting in silence—eyes shifting from confusion to rage… to fear.
"Order!" King Hellion struck the gavel hard. Lago's image vanished.
The room fell quiet.
Mad leaned toward Gera. "What the hell just happened?"
Meya didn't turn. She kept her eyes on the boy standing calmly under his stars. "Disavowed," she whispered.
Cane stood calmly, moving to the Archmage's side when gestured.
"Well done," Telamon said simply.
King Hellion and the council deliberated for a few quiet minutes before the gavel struck once more.
"Executive Officer Brea, this council finds you guilty of gross incompetence and desertion," the King declared. "It is our judgment that you be hanged by the neck until dead. Sentence to be carried out in five days in the Palace Square."
This time, when chaos erupted, King Hellion made no move to silence it.
Telamon raised his hand. A rift opened—and he vanished through it, taking Cane with him.
The sudden travel twisted Cane's stomach. When the spinning stopped, the Archmage was gone. No words. No goodbyes.
He stood alone in the courtyard of his forge.
Spud padded up, tail wagging. Cane gave him a pat, then turned toward the clatter of blades on stone.
Fergis and Violetta sparred nearby. It wasn't a fierce match—more playful than serious. Close siblings, not rivals. Fergis, despite being slightly less skilled, kept gaining the upper hand. Azar's repelling effect knocked Violet's blade away no matter what she tried.
The bout ended with her sword bouncing across the courtyard.
Violet blew a strand of blonde hair from her face, then pounced on Fergis before he could pick it up.
"What kind of trick blade is that?" she demanded, laughing. "Give it to me! That sword's wasted on you!"
Fergis staggered under her weight, cackling. "What are you talking about? Found it in a pawnshop!"
Violet yanked the sword free and paused. Her eyes widened. She tested the weight, swiping it experimentally.
"Why is it so light?"
Fergis, now holding her blade, grinned. "Block my overhand strike."
He moved in with a slow, heavy swing. Violet parried easily—only to feel the blade shove her block aside. She stumbled slightly, blinking in surprise.
"This doesn't even feel like metal." She handed Azar back and sheathed her own sword. "Why are you using a blade again? Did you give up on fire?"
Fergis gripped Azar. The blade burst into flame.
"It's a focal," Violet whispered. "What rank is that fire rune?"
"Mythic," Fergis said casually.
Cane's laugh drifted from the forge's doorway. "Are you using the weapon I made to bully your little sister?"
Fergis nodded without shame. "Of course. Otherwise I would've lost. Badly."
Violet rolled her eyes. "When did you get back, Cane?"
"Just now," he said.
"How did everything go?" Fergis asked.
Earlier, Cane had sent a message through their group rune—Telamon was taking him to testify before the council.
"Let's talk at dinner," Cane replied. "No point repeating it twice."
—
Later that evening, the group gathered around a steaming pheasant dinner, mixed vegetables, and peach cider. Cane walked them through everything—meeting the King, the council's questions, his testimony, and finally, Archmage Lago's cold disavowal of his own spy.
"Brother…" Fergis shook his head. "How did you even come up with that?"
"I was working at the forge," Cane said, "thinking through the possible outcomes. The biggest question was: why would Ferine Shaw claim she wanted to defect? She'd never have lived in peace here."
"You got that right," Violet muttered. "Even with guards, too many people would want her dead. You couldn't even trust the guards."
"Exactly. Claiming prisoner of war status probably wouldn't have warranted Lago's personal attention—he'd have sent a low-level ambassador. He probably has hundreds of spies and might not even have known about her directly. But now?" Cane gave a dry smile. "He is aware, and he really hates me."
Clara, mouth full of pheasant, chewed and swallowed, then washed it down with cider. "Don't worry about him. You've got us."
Cane tried not to laugh. "Thanks, Clara. Good to know if Archmage Lago comes after me, I've got a three-person strike team."
"Four ants against a dragon," Fergis coughed. "Let's be honest, Telamon's your shield. Even if there were a dozen Lagos, he wouldn't dare."
"Not directly," Dhalia said quietly. "Remember Terror? And the Strix?"
Clara grinned. "Handled."
Cane nodded. "That's why I gambled. I figured Lago would decide Shaw wasn't worth the trouble. So I painted her as a deserter and war profiteer. That gave him the opening to disavow her—no need to admit they violated the War Accords."
Violet let out a low whistle. "High-stakes gamble… but it worked."
Dhalia's smile was grim. "The real winners are the families of the fallen battalions. Before, they were told Brea was incompetent. Now… they have someone to blame."
Cane took a slow breath. "She's being hanged publicly. Palace Square. Five days."
Silence fell around the table. No one spoke.
Only the soft clink of Clara's fork touched the air.