The aftermath of Redmere’s square still smoldered in their minds. The citizens had paused, attention split between Adrian’s presence and Selene’s intervention. Panic had been checked, but trust had not been fully restored. Behind closed doors, the air was thick with tension—more suffocating than any battlefield smoke Adrian had ever faced.Selene paced the strategy room, hands pressed to her temples. “You don’t understand,” she said, voice sharp. “I had to act. People were starting to panic again. Waiting, hesitating… you know what he’s capable of.”Adrian stood near the window, arms folded, jaw tight. His eyes scanned the horizon. “I understand perfectly. You broke our plan. You acted without consulting me. You undermined the unified front we promised to the protectorate.”Selene stopped pacing, whirling to face him. “Unified front? Adrian, we lost public perception the moment Edrin stepped into Redmere. My intervention saved lives! That’s what matters!”Adrian’s gaze hardened. “Live

Night fell unevenly across the protectorate.In some towns, it arrived with the crackle of fire.In others, with the slow, suffocating quiet that followed riots spent of breath but not of rage.And everywhere—everywhere—people were watching to see who would act next.Greywake: Authority BleedsSelene staggered against the broken steps of the healer’s hall as the crowd closed in.Not violently.Not yet.That was the most dangerous part.“You admitted it,” a woman said, her voice shaking with fury and grief. “You said you were responsible.”Selene wiped blood from her brow. “I said I would carry the blame if it would stop this from spreading.”“And did it?” another man demanded. “Did it bring them back?”Silence answered.She felt it then—the shift. The moment when compassion curdled into certainty.Edrin’s philosophy at work.Pain must belong to someone.“I never commanded them,” Selene said. “But I will not pretend my influence didn’t put them at risk.”That honesty—once her strength—

Edrin chose daylight.Not firelight.Not secrecy.Not the theater of shadows he had once favored.He stood in the open square of Redmere—rebuilt just enough to look hopeful, scarred just enough to look honest—wearing no colors, no insignia, no symbols of allegiance.Only a plain coat. Open hands.The crowd gathered cautiously. Not followers. Not rebels.Witnesses.“I won’t shout,” Edrin said calmly, voice carrying without strain. “Because shouting is how you hide weakness. And I won’t accuse—because accusation is cheap.”A murmur passed through the square.Soldiers watched from the edges. They did not intervene. Adrian had ordered restraint. Let him speak, he had said.Edrin smiled faintly at that mercy.“It’s strange,” Edrin continued, “how quickly words lose value when they’re spoken beside gallows.”No outrage. No slogans.Just silence.“I’m not here to overthrow anyone,” he said. “I’m not asking you to rise, or riot, or bleed. I’m here to ask a simpler question.”He paused.“Do yo

Adrian had never been afraid of a crowd.Battlefields roared louder than any square, and he had learned long ago how to stand where fear wanted him to fall. But Aurelion Square felt different when he stepped onto the platform the following morning.Quieter.Not empty—never empty—but attentive in a way that felt surgical.They were waiting for him to say the wrong thing.He saw it in their faces before he spoke.“Yesterday’s address by Selene has been… discussed,” Adrian began.That was already a mistake.He should have spoken of policy. Of grain shipments. Of reconstruction. Of anything that wasn’t her.But the damage had already chosen its shape.“She spoke truthfully,” he continued. “And she spoke under a burden none of us should pretend is light.”A murmur rippled—not hostile, but cautious.“She carries the cost of restraint,” Adrian said. “I carry the cost of action. Neither is clean.”Someone laughed softly. Not mockery—recognition.Adrian pressed on.“You have seen me make decis

The council chamber was full in a way Adrian had never seen before.Not crowded—occupied.Every bench held someone who believed they had earned the right to be there. Not because a crown summoned them, but because the world had cracked open just enough to let them step inside.Adrian stood at the center of the floor, unarmed. No cloak. No insignia.That, too, had been deliberate.Across the chamber, Edrin waited patiently, hands folded behind his back, posture relaxed enough to look harmless. He wore no symbols either. No colors. No allegiance that could be pointed to and named.Just a man.Selene sat neither beside Adrian nor opposite him. She had taken a seat among the delegates—an observer in a room that once would have bowed.That hurt more than Adrian expected.The bell rang.A councilor from Redmere stood first, voice shaking but controlled. “We requested aid three days ago. Food convoys were delayed. Merchants rerouted. We followed the principles of autonomy offered to us.”She