The brass knocker of the Bishop's Residence struck three times in rapid succession. Jamie lowered his training sword and looked toward the courtyard gates. A courier wearing the gray robes of a Citadel clerk stood on the other side of the iron bars. The man shifted his weight from foot to foot and clutched a rolled parchment sealed with red wax.Jamie walked across the lawn and pushed the gate open. The clerk shoved the parchment into Jamie's hands and practically sprinted away down Silvercrest Avenue. The frantic departure immediately set Jamie on edge. He broke the thick wax seal and unrolled the document.Maerith Bellgrave walked over from the carved marble altar. She wiped sweat from her brow and looked at the formal military script covering the page."That is a High Scribe mandate," Maerith noted. She frowned as she read the contents over his shoulder. "They want you in the administrative wing immediately. They are citing a severe discrepancy with your armory requisition."Jamie

The ruined squad captain dragged his shattered body across the floorboards of the central study. His desperate gasps and the wet sound of his bleeding knees scraping against the wood filled the quiet room. He reached the broken oak doors and pulled himself into the grand foyer. He left a thick trail of dark blood behind him. Jamie stood in the center of the carnage and watched the assassin crawl toward the front gates. The feral rage that had fueled his arrival slowly drained from his veins.With the immediate threat neutralized the heavy adrenaline left the room. A suffocating silence replaced the chaotic violence. The quiet felt heavier than the ringing clash of steel. Jamie turned his back on the broken doors and looked at his family.Janie crouched near the edge of the tall wooden bookshelf. She trembled violently and buried her face against her knees. Tears streamed down her cheeks and soaked the fabric of her worn dress. Jolie knelt beside her on the floorboards. The older woman

Jamie walked up the grand marble steps of the Royal Court surrounded by a dozen armored citadel guards. The official royal summons had arrived at the Bishop's Residence mere hours after the sun rose. Maerith Bellgrave had intercepted the messenger at the iron gates, read the royal seal, and recognized the bureaucratic trap closing around her new ally. She told Jamie to stall the guards while she sprinted toward the military sector to locate Commander Vakar. She knew a commoner facing the King alone would end up on an execution block by noon.Jamie did not resist the heavily armed escort, choosing to wear his simple canvas trousers and a fresh linen tunic instead of his newly forged armor. He kept his posture straight as the guards led him through the towering brass doors of the throne room. The ambient noise of the gathered aristocrats died the second he crossed the threshold, and hundreds of wealthy merchants and senior nobles turned their hostile stares toward the entrance.The Roya

The royal heralds stood in the public squares of the capital and announced the restrictive decree before the morning bells finished ringing. The news of the magical binding placed on the newest Knight recruit cascaded through the commercial districts and washed over the high estates. The revelation ignited a wave of unbridled euphoria throughout the aristocratic faction.Wealthy merchants and senior lords poured out of their sprawling mansions in Bishop's Gate to celebrate the impending execution. They instructed their servants to set up long wooden tables along the pristine marble of Silvercrest Avenue. They brought out heavy casks of imported vintage wine and silver platters piled high with roasted meats. The serene street transformed into a lavish festival of spite and arrogance.Nolan Wentworth stood atop the carved edge of a brass fountain and raised a jeweled goblet to the cheering crowd. The young aristocrat held a copy of the royal edict high so the surrounding nobles could se

The grandfather clock in the grand hallway of the Bishop's Residence chimed the midnight hour. The heavy metallic gongs reverberated through the quiet corridors. Jamie sat alone in the private armory located in the eastern wing of the estate. The previous bishop had used the room to store ceremonial armor and holy relics. Jamie had cleared the display cases to make room for functional steel. Heavy wooden racks lined the stone walls holding spare broadswords and weighted training gear. A thick iron brazier burned in the corner to push back the midnight chill.Jamie sat on a sturdy wooden bench. He held his newly tempered longsword across his lap. He pressed a heavy whetstone against the base of the steel blade and dragged the stone toward the tip in one continuous motion. The rhythmic scraping sound echoed off the polished masonry. He repeated the motion with deliberate precision.He inspected the sharp edge of the weapon under the flickering orange light of the fire. The steel carried