Kneel! The Fallen Hero Has Returned!

Chapter 2: I Am The One Dumping You

"Ronan, take this check and end your engagement with Seren. You should be grateful we're offering you anything at all."

Damon Cross tossed a check onto the table, and it slid across the white cloth and stopped against Ronan's wineglass.

The banquet hall went silent for a moment, and then the laughter began, then louder, rolling from table to table like a wave.

Ronan sat at the far end of the long table in his wheelchair, shoulders hunched and eyes lowered. Three years of practice had made the act easy. Inside, the golden power in his chest hummed like a caged beast, and he pressed it down tight.

"Look at him," a woman whispered from the next table. "He's still wearing that old coat. Didn't the Whitmores buy him a new one?"

"Why would they?" her husband snorted. "You don't dress a stray dog for a party."

Ronan heard every word. These were the same people who had cried at the victory parade, and now they laughed at him. He memorized each face, one by one.

At the head of the table, Harold Whitmore rose. "Thank you all for coming. We have two announcements. My daughter Seren will be engaged to Young Master Damon Cross."

Applause exploded through the hall. Seren stood beside Damon in a pale dress with her hand on his arm, chin high, and she did not glance at Ronan even once.

"The second announcement," Harold said, his voice heavier, "is that the engagement between my daughter and Ronan Vale is ended."

More laughter followed, and a few people even clapped. Ronan's fingers curled slowly against his knees.

"We owe you for the war, Ronan, and we won't forget it," Harold muttered. "But a father can't let his daughter waste her life on a man who... who cannot even stand."

"Waste." Ronan lifted his head, and his eyes were wet. "Is that what it was, Uncle Harold?"

"Don't call me that. Be reasonable."

"Reasonable!" Damon strolled around the table with his hands in his pockets and tapped the check with a polished fingernail. "One million in gold, Ronan. Enough to rent a quiet room and hire a nurse to wipe your face. After all, what else can a cripple like you do?"

The guests roared. A man slapped the table, wheezing, and a young girl giggled behind her fan.

"Ronan." Seren's voice cut through, cold and tired. "Take the money, and stop embarrassing me."

Ronan looked at her for a long moment. Only last night she had kissed his forehead and told him not to worry. He almost felt sorry for the fool who had cried outside her door.

"Embarrassing you?" he asked softly.

"Yes! Every day I have to smile and tell people we're still together. Do you know how tiring that is?"

"I see." Ronan nodded slowly. "Three years of tiring work."

"Exactly. So take it and go."

He picked up the check, and a ripple of satisfaction ran through the room. Damon grinned like a man who had just won a bet. Ronan looked at the paper for a moment.

Then he tore it in half.

"I don't need your money," he said, his voice trembling.

Damon's smile froze. "What did you say?"

"I said I don't need it, Young Master Cross." Ronan swallowed, and he let his lip quiver as if he were terrified of his own words. "And you don't have to end anything, Seren. I'm ending it."

Someone gasped. Seren's eyes went wide.

"I'm the one dumping you," Ronan said, louder now, his voice shaking with a brave, pitiful kind of dignity. "A woman who finds me tiring isn't a woman I want to marry. So go. Be happy."

The hall stayed silent for three long heartbeats. Then Damon burst out laughing, and the whole room joined him.

"Did you hear that? The cripple dumped her!"

"Oh, that's rich! What a performance!"

"Ronan, are you out of your mind?" Seren hissed, stepping forward with a flush creeping up her neck. "A million gold, and you tear it up because of your pride?"

"My pride?" Ronan gave a small, broken smile. "It's all I have left."

"You little..." Damon's face darkened. His hand clamped around Ronan's collar, and he hauled him half out of the chair. "You think you can humiliate me in front of everyone? You useless piece of trash!"

"Damon, enough," Harold muttered weakly, but he made no move to stop it.

Damon kicked the wheelchair.

It tipped sideways, and Ronan crashed onto the floor with a grunt, his legs tangled underneath him. Pain shot through his shoulder. The guests howled. A man tossed a bread roll that bounced off Ronan's head.

"Look at him crawl!" someone shouted.

Ronan lay there with his cheek against the floor and his fingers spread. He thought about how easy it would be to shatter every glass in the room. He could sit up and break Damon's arm in front of all of them. The gold power screamed to be let out.

He closed his eyes and pressed it down.

"Please," he whimpered, dragging himself an inch toward his chair. "Someone, help me. I can't..."

"Help him?" Damon crouched over him, grinning, and poured the contents of his wineglass slowly over Ronan's head. "Why would anyone help a dog?"

Red wine ran down Ronan's face and dripped from his chin, and the laughter swelled. Ronan shook, and the guests took it for fear. In truth, his whole body was trembling from the effort of not killing them.

"Enough, Damon," Seren said, but her voice was bored. "He's pathetic. Let the servants take him."

"Fine." Damon straightened and brushed off his hands. Then he leaned down and whispered so only Ronan could hear. "Tomorrow, the testing hall. I've invited the whole city. You'll touch the stone, and you'll prove you're nothing, or I'll make you kneel in front of every one of them."

"Y-Young Master Cross," Ronan stammered, "I'm just a cripple. Why would you..."

"Because I'm tired of your face."

Damon turned away, laughing, and two servants lifted Ronan roughly and dumped him back into his chair. His head hung low and wine dripped from his hair onto his lap.

Behind the curtain of wet hair, he smiled.

"Tomorrow," he whispered, so quietly that no one could hear. "I'll be there."