The Forsaken Hero-Chapter 947: A Time for Words

"Lady Whitemarsh! You stand against the council?" Lord Ellenwinter roared, his face twisting into a mask of fury.

Lord Splitbark raised a hand, his tone dropping into a practiced, condescending calm. "Lady Whitemarsh, this outburst is most unbecoming. Surely you don’t seek to defy the laws that have knit our nation together for thousands of years? To abandon them now, over demons and interlopers?" He gestured to the inquisitors standing like white statues behind him. "Would you forsake the security the Church offers us?"

"Is it security you seek, or wealth?" Lady Whitemarsh shot back, her voice carrying easily over the courtyard. "My house has fought for generations to protect Sylvarus. More of our blood was shed against the Risen than every other house combined. Yet you accuse us of betraying our people? How could you, when you have decided to side with our accusers because it lets you line your vaults!"

Splitbark opened his mouth to retort, but Lord Evlon stepped past him. The High Inquisitor’s gaze swept the courtyard, cold and dismissive.

"Lord Splitbark, I think it is time we dispensed with the charade," Evlon said, projecting his voice into the spell, sending it booming around the courtyards and into the skies around us. "House Sunsinger has never acted alone. They have been sheltered by the Whitemarshes. It stands to reason the rot has spread to the very roots of their house."

"I knew it," Lord Ellenwinter spat, hand drifting to his sword. "Traitors, all of them."

Evlon nodded. "There is no reasoning with those who have turned from the light. Rise, faithful of Sylvarus! Purge this taint from your city!"

He raised his arm, and a beacon of pure sun mana erupted from his hand, drawing a line straight into the sky. It blasted past our ship, rocking it gently. I clutched the railing tightly, looking around anxiously. It finally came to me, as the deck of the skyship settled. I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. This was no speech, but a signal. Aerion hadn’t started this war—the church had. They must have been waiting for this moment!

"They hoped to use the confusion to claim you," Fyren rumbled, leaning against the railing beside me. He watched the chaos below with a critical eye. "I wonder what they’ll do now that you’re nowhere to be found.

"What better place to hide than plain sight?" Luxxa murmured, her hand tight on her sword hilt. "My guess is that signal was meant to begin the fight, but now it’s a sign to begin the search. They draw this out a little longer, buying time to find us before making any real move."

Below us, a tremor of hesitation ran through the courtyard. Soldiers tensed, knuckles white on their spear shafts, but no one moved. To strike at Lady Whitemarsh, the High Commander of the Garrisons, or the house that had just produced a ninth-level mage, was a line no elf wanted to cross first.

Evlon frowned, fire kindling in his eyes as he prepared to shout another command. But before he could speak, a chuckle echoed across the grove. It was a cold sound, devoid of humor, that chilled the blood in my veins.

Aerion rose, another dark chuckle escaping him as he drifted into the air, suspended in a soft green aura of light. As nobles gasped and pointed, his aura flooded the square, a heavy, suffocating pressure that settled in every chest. He looked down, his gaze sliding over the Tribunal Lords before settling on Evlon.

"You think to command my soldiers, Inquisitor?" Aerion asked, his voice deceptively soft.

"Your soldiers?" Lord Ellenwinter snarled, stepping forward. "The garrison serves Sylvarus! They march at our word!"

Aerion shifted his gaze to the lord. It was a look so cold that even Ellenwinter, an eighth-level swordsman himself, flinched and ducked his head.

"What is the meaning of this?" Evlon demanded, stepping into the open space beneath Aerion. "What are you doing? Strong though you are, you cannot fight the will of an entire nation."

"You think yourself terribly clever, planning all this from the shadows," Aerion said, turning in the air to face him again. "Gathering allies, feigning support, promising aid against the demons. But did you tell them the truth? Did you tell them the Divine has no armies left on this continent? That even if they mustered today, it would take months to cross the ocean? Sylvarus is but a piece on your board, one you’ll gladly trade for your true prize. A pawn for a queen."

A ripple of murmurs ran through the nobles. Lord Splitbark’s brow furrowed, his eyes darting to the Inquisitor’s back. I could see the thoughts shifting in their head, and shrunk back a little, all too aware of who, exactly, this ’queen’ was, and how readily most of these nobles would be to surrender me to the church’s clutches.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Evlon said smoothly. "Our only purpose is to see the glory of the Divine brought to these lands and shield it from the demons."

Aerion leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing. "Is that how you convinced our people to dance on your strings?"Lord Umvlyt. Lady Vespa. Lord Sobrien. Even members of our own Verdant Tribunal—all ends to serve a purpose you’ve hidden from them."

The names tugged at a memory. Sobrien? That was the lord the elven girls at the banquet had accused me of murdering. And the others... I remembered Elise mentioning them as staunch supporters of the church.

Lord Splitbark paled. "Umvlyt? Vespa? What do you know of them? What information have you on their assassina–"

"Cease this foolishness," Evlon growled, a hint of anger cracking his composure. "You would stand alone against the law of your own kingdom? Perhaps, one day, the city might have been yours. But this wasn’t our arrangement. You were to remain in the shadows, to allow me the room to accomplish my purposes before making a move."

"Arrangement?" Aerion folded his arms, looking down at Evlon with utter disdain. "Did you think I wouldn’t know? Our ’arrangement’ ended the moment you decided my sister was an acceptable price to pay for your prize. That you haven’t realized that is proof of your own ignorance and ineptitude. You should have realized the tides had turned the moment Lord Sobrien fell with a knife in his chest. And then the others...no wonder you forced this vote early. You weren’t so much running out of time as resources."

A violent shiver coursed down my spine, my tail going stiff. Arrangement? But that was...the church’s assassins...Had he left to fight the Risen knowing I would be targeted?

Evlon’s gaze sharpened, his pupils contracting to pinpricks. "But the Dark Guild...".

"Answer to me!" Aerion finished, folding his arms and glaring down at them. "You really didn’t think it was suspicious? Nearly thirty high profile assassinations in a few weeks, and all of them members of your base?"

"Treason! This is treason!" Lord Ellenwinter shouted, pointing a shaking finger at Aerion. "You command the assassination of your own kind?"

"My own kind?" Aerion barked a short, bitter laugh. "I see you’ve bought the Inquisitor’s lies fully. There are no elves and humans, no gods and demons. There are only those with me, and those against me."

He lowered himself slightly, hovering just out of reach of the spears, and looked directly at the two Tribunal lords.

"Tell me, Lords of Sylvarus," Aerion said, his voice ringing with challenge. "When the Inquisitors demand the blood of your kin to fuel their wards, will you give it? When they demand your wealth to fund a war across the sea, will you hand it over? Or will you admit that you have sold your people for a promise of power that will never come?"

"We—we did what was necessary for stability!" Splitbark stammered, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Stability?" Aerion sneered. "Or servitude? Declare it now. Are you lords of a free people, or stewards for a foreign god?"

"You defy the very foundation of our nation!" Splitbark shouted, realizing he was losing the crowd. He pointed frantically at the floating elf. "I won’t listen to you casually admit to treason! Soldiers of Sylvarus, do your duty! He seeks to destroy us all—arrest him!"

He thrust his arm forward, but the soldiers hesitated. They looked from the furious Lord Splitbark to the imperious form of Aerion.

"What are you waiting for?" Lord Ellenwinter screamed, drawing his own blade. "Arrest him!"

"You claim I stand alone," Aerion said, ignoring the old lords and turning his gaze back to a silent, seething Lord Evlon. "But I’m afraid you’ve already proven your true colors. And unlike the fools who let your honeyed words rot their hearts, I believe people when they tell me who they are."

Aerion extended his hand. Green light flared, blindingly bright even from my distance, coalescing into a magnificent sword. He rose higher, turning to survey the city of Duskwood as if he already owned it.

"I have no intention of letting you sacrifice this kingdom for your own gain. Not for the gods. Not for prosperity. And certainly not for foolish noble pride."

"You have no right!" Splitbark cried, his voice cracking. "The Tribunal has spoken! We have chosen the Divine!"

Aerion looked down at him for a long, drawn-out moment. Then, a terrifying smile touched his lips.

"I told you before, Lord Splitbark. There are only two kinds of people in this world. Thank you for making it perfectly clear who you have chosen to be."

He raised the sword high, the green light pulsing like a beacon.

"Sylvarus has slept in the shadows long enough. Words and persuasion have failed us. We have cowered behind laws and traditions while our people suffer, but no longer." His voice rose, shaking the leaves of the Great Tree. "The sun is rising. If the time for words has passed, then we will usher it in by blade and blood. Let the Crimson Dawn shine!"