Kael's gaze shifted.
Slow. Cold. Inevitable.
He turned his head toward Ren, who had remained standing awkwardly by the side, trying to look relevant.
Then Kael spoke—calm, but with an undertone like grinding stone.
"What are you here for today?"
Ren straightened quickly, his expression switching to forced charm.
"I've come to see Lady Virelia."
The name barely left his lips before Kael's hand shot out.
A heavy palm landed on Ren's shoulder—not hard, but enough.
Too much.
Ren's knees bent slightly under the weight.
Kael leaned in, his voice low and cold.
"Do you like my daughter?"
The room fell silent.
Amon didn't move. Just watched.
Ren's throat bobbed. Sweat trickled down his temple. But then—he stood up straighter. Swallowed the fear. And answered, with foolish pride glowing in his eyes:
"Yes. I do."
Amon stayed silent.
He didn't smirk. Didn't blink.He just watched.
Ren, on the other hand, stood rigid—chest rising and falling as if he'd just stepped off the edge of a cliff.
"It doesn't matter even if I die here today," he thought. "Being with her means everything. I'd burn my clan to the ground if it meant standing by her side. And if this moment is my end… then so be it. At least I'll die for what I believe in."
But Kael?
He was frozen.
Not with rage.
But confusion.
He had expected fear. A stammer. A polite denial.
But not… this.
Not conviction.
For a heartbeat, Kael stood like a statue—stone carved by disbelief.
And then—
He laughed.
A deep, rolling thunder of laughter that broke the air like shattering glass.
His heavy hand slammed onto Ren's shoulder—more like a war hammer striking a shield than a gesture of approval.
"Good. Good!" Kael boomed."I'm glad. I'm glad a man like you fell for my daughter…"
His smile faded, just slightly.
"…But."
His grip tightened.
"She means everything to me. More than my name. More than this city. More than the Ironborn legacy itself."
His voice lowered into steel.
"Can you protect her?"
Ren's eyes widened.
Kael didn't give him a chance to answer.
"I don't doubt your feelings. Or even your clan. But love isn't enough.""There will be a test."
He took a step back, crossing his arms.
"If you win—and if she agrees—then I'll have no say.""Because in the end… she'll be your wife. Not mine to keep. Her voice matters more than mine ever will."
Ren stood there, stunned.
His mouth opened, but no sound came.
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
All he knew was—if he hadn't spoken up, if he had bowed, if he had tried to stay safe—
He would have regretted it for the rest of his life.
Kael's hand fell away from Ren's shoulder.He turned—slowly—toward Amon.But this time, his tone shifted. No mockery. No disdain.Only respect. Measured and sharp.
"What do you think, Mr. Shadow?"
Amon met his gaze, unflinching.His voice, flat and composed:"You want me to take this test too?"
Kael smiled faintly, like a blacksmith admiring a blade.
"As I expected. Sharp minds rarely need to be told twice."
Amon tilted his head, eyes narrowing.
"But why me?"
Kael's expression didn't change.
"Because you're the disciple of a Crownbearer—Asgaroth Velkran."
Amon's reply came quick, cold.
"I don't love your daughter. Hell, I don't even know what she looks like."
Kael chuckled, folding his arms.
"Then let me enlighten you—my daughter is the most beautiful woman in this world.""But beauty isn't the reason I'm asking."
Amon raised a brow."Then what is?"
Kael leaned in slightly, his voice lower now—measured and dangerous.
"Because you walk like a king… and speak like a man who already owns the throne he hasn't sat on yet. I want to see what kind of man Asgaroth has raised."
Amon scoffed."I'll have to decline. I don't make decisions without informing my master. So, if you'll excuse me—"
He turned.
One step.
Two.
Then—
"Wait."
Kael's voice rang out—calm, but firm.
Amon paused mid-step.
"If you take part in this test… and win…"Kael's tone dropped like a stone into still water."Then I'll agree to the deal your master proposed."
Silence.
Ren stared, jaw slack.
Amon slowly turned back.
His expression was unreadable—but behind those crimson eyes, gears turned in silence.
Then Ren, trying to seem calm but clearly eager to shift focus, asked:
"So… what's the test?"
Kael didn't sit. He stood like a statue of judgment between them.
The first part of the trial is this—one question. No swords. Only your minds. Answer wisely.
Both nodded, signaling their readiness.
Kael folded his hands behind his back.
"Tell me—what do you think about the slave trade company in this city?""And if you were in my position… what would you have done?"
A heavy pause.
Ren lifted his hand first, voice firm—almost too quick, too loud.
"I would punish those bastards who sell lives that aren't theirs!"He straightened, emboldened by his own words."If they're prisoners, then fine—but allowing such business in your city doesn't help you. It breeds resentment. One day, if they escape… they'll come for you first."
His tone sharpened at the end, thinking it sounded bold. Clever.
Kael gave no reaction. Not even a blink.
He turned his gaze to Amon.
Who remained perfectly still.
Waiting.
Amon didn't answer right away.
He simply stared at Ren.
And then, with a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes, he said—
"The weak call it cruelty. I call it survival…"
He stepped forward, each word deliberate.
"They always do. Because weakness has never seen what strength must sacrifice to remain unbroken."
His voice deepened—calm, cold, surgical.
"Those who scream about justice? They've never had blood on their hands. They've never ruled. Never bled for a kingdom. Never had to choose between a thousand innocents and one war."
He turned slightly, addressing Kael without fully facing him.
"A world where strength rules isn't cruel.""It's honest."
A pause.
Then his eyes narrowed, glowing faintly.
"The strong protect what they love… or they watch it burn. The weak?"He scoffed."They pray someone stronger will save them. And call it mercy when they're spared."
He finally looked back at Ren—expression unreadable.
"I would let the slave market thrive.Not because I enjoy it… but because it teaches one truth: that power is the only language anyone respects."
A final glance at Kael.
"And if I were in your place, Clan Leader... I'd not waste energy pretending otherwise."
Silence followed.
Cold. Sharp. Heavy.
And entirely Amon.