During the dead of night, long after the fires in the camp had dimmed to embers, a new kind of fire began to rise—one born not from chaos, but justice.
The soldiers who had once trained under Kyle, who had marched beside him and tasted victory under his leadership, could no longer contain their resentment.
Quietly, decisively, they moved. The nobles who had plotted against Kyle—who had thrown him in prison despite his valor—were seized from their tents and quarters.
Resistance was minimal; the soldiers moved with swift precision, giving the lords little time to react.
"You'll regret this!"
One noble barked as he was shoved into a cell.
"This is treason! You dare imprison nobles under the Baron's command?!"
Another screamed.
But the soldiers didn't flinch. They locked the doors and turned away.
Within moments, the cells held a small cluster of complaining nobles.
Red-faced, bewildered, and indignant, they hurled accusations and appeals in every direction.
