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The armory hall had never been this quiet.
Not ceremonial quiet—no reverence, no awe.
This was the kind of silence that came when people understood that words were about to stop protecting them.
August Engelbert stood at the center of the chamber, hands folded behind his back. He did not raise his voice. He didn't need to. The party stood assembled before him—eight individuals drawn from different houses, different loyalties, different reasons for being here.
"By order of Sir Thomas Aurelius," August said evenly, "House Shieldon has completed the forging of weapons for this expedition."
At his signal, the attendants stepped forward.
Cloth coverings were pulled away.
Steel caught the light.
The weapons were flawless.
Swords balanced to perfection.
Edges refined to a near-mirror sheen.
Enchantments etched subtly—fire resistance, durability, mana flow optimization.
Shields layered with alloy patterns no common forge could replicate.
Robert Alphonse let out a low breath. "That's… impressive."
Emilia Magnus ran her fingers near the engravings of a blade meant for elemental channeling, eyes sharp with appreciation. "They didn't hold back."
Eva Windbloom lifted a spear, testing its weight. Perfectly responsive. "This would sell for a fortune."
Noah von Astreas didn't touch anything. He observed—watching how mana settled along the metal, how the enchantments breathed faintly under the surface.
Sofia Astrid Lexamus clasped her hands together. She said nothing.
Then Voryn stepped forward.
No announcement. No permission.
He reached for a sword resting on a velvet stand.
The room stiffened—not in hostility, but anticipation.
Voryn drew the blade halfway from its sheath. Tested the balance with a slight rotation of his wrist. Pressed a thumb lightly against the flat. Not the edge.
Then he slid it back in.
"Trash."
The word hit the chamber like a dropped plate.
Rexor turned sharply. "What?"
August didn't react. The attendants froze.
Rexor stepped closer to Voryn. His voice was controlled, but firm. "These are the best weapons produced in the kingdom."
Voryn met his gaze. Calm. Uninterested.
"And they are the worst you could carry into the Outer Lands."
Murmurs spread—sharp, restrained.
Robert frowned. Emilia bristled. Eva narrowed her eyes.
"That doesn't make sense," Emilia snapped. "These blades are enchanted—"
"They're predictable," Voryn interrupted.
Silence returned, heavier than before.
"They're forged for symmetrical combat. For enemies that fight like you do. For battlefields where rules still exist."
He looked at the weapons again. "Out there, durability matters less than adaptability. Enchantments fail. Balance shifts. Mana corrodes steel."
Rexor held his stare for a moment longer—then exhaled slowly.
"Then we make do," Rexor said. "Because this is what we have."
Voryn gave a single nod. No argument. No insistence.
August finally stepped forward.
"Enough."
All eyes returned to him.
"Today," August said, "is the last day."
He let that sit.
"The last day of peace. The last day of rest."
His gaze moved across each of them deliberately.
"From this moment onward, you are no longer representatives of your houses. You are not envoys. You are not heroes."
A pause.
"You are witnesses."
Noah's eyes sharpened.
"You will move into the Outer Lands," August continued, "and you will collect information. Threat levels. Territorial changes. Anomalies. Any sign of organized force."
"Everything you find," he said, "is to be reported directly to the royal court. No filtration. No interpretation."
Robert shifted. "And engagement?"
"Only if necessary," August replied. "You are not sent to win battles."
He looked directly at Rexor.
"You are sent to ensure the kingdom understands what is coming."
Sofia swallowed.
August finished quietly, "Return with truth—or do not return."
No applause followed.
No reassurance.
The attendants withdrew. The weapons remained.
The silence lingered until Rexor turned to the party.
"We depart immediately."
—
The carriages were already waiting when they reached the outer road.
Two reinforced carriers—wood and steel, enclosed, designed for secure transport. Practical. Unmarked.
No banners. No crowd.
The city did not celebrate their departure.
Assignments were brief.
Carriage One: Rexor. Robert. Addie Engelbert. Noah von Astreas.
Carriage Two: Voryn. Sofia. Emilia. Eva.
No one questioned it aloud, though Emilia clearly wanted to.
The doors shut.
The wheels rolled.
—
Inside the second carriage, silence reigned at first.
The road noise filled the gaps. Leather creaked. Metal shifted.
Emilia leaned closer to Eva, lowering her voice. "Why is he with us?"
Eva didn't look at her immediately. "Voryn?"
"Yes," Emilia hissed. "Why not Addie? She's the strategist."
Eva glanced briefly at Voryn—who sat still, eyes forward, hands resting loosely on his knees.
"Addie needs to go over formations with Rexor and the others," Eva whispered back. "They're mapping contingencies."
Emilia frowned. "Then why is he here?"
Eva hesitated.
Before she could answer—
"Because you'd feel safer with someone else."
Voryn's voice cut through the carriage without effort.
The silence that followed was immediate and absolute.
Emilia stiffened. "You were listening?"
"You weren't whispering," Voryn replied calmly.
Sofia looked between them, startled.
Eva frowned. "What do you mean, safer?"
Voryn didn't turn his head. "If you were paired with someone who reassured you, you'd relax. You'd miss cues. You'd hesitate."
Emilia's jaw tightened. "And you're better?"
"No," he said. "I'm worse."
They stared at him.
"You'll stay alert," Voryn continued. "Because you don't trust me."
The carriage felt smaller after that.
—
In the first carriage, the tone was entirely different.
Addie had already unrolled a compact map across her knees.
"This is the last confirmed supply point," she said. "Beyond Aurelion Gate, we're operating blind."
Robert leaned in. "What about fallback routes?"
"Minimal," Addie replied. "We won't have mounted extraction. Terrain's too unstable."
Noah added, "Mana usage needs regulation. Overcasting will draw attention."
Rexor listened.
He didn't interrupt.
When he spoke, it was decisive. "We move light. No extended engagements. If Voryn calls retreat, we retreat."
Addie paused, then nodded. "Understood."
Robert glanced at Rexor—not questioning, but assessing.
The leadership shift was subtle.
And real.
—
The carriages slowed.
Stone replaced dirt beneath the wheels.
Aurelion Gate rose before them.
Massive. Ancient. Scarred with deep grooves from battles no one remembered clearly anymore.
The guards didn't salute.
They simply opened the gate.
The carriages passed through—and stopped.
Beyond the threshold, the road ended.
No paving. No markers.
Just land.
August's voice echoed faintly from behind. "No mounts beyond this point."
The drivers dismounted. Supplies were unloaded by hand.
The carriages turned back.
The city receded.
The party stood on foot before the Outer Lands.
Wind moved differently here. Not stronger—wrong. Directionless.
Rexor adjusted his grip on his sword.
Emilia swallowed.
Eva flexed her fingers.
Sofia murmured a quiet prayer—not for safety, but clarity.
Noah's gaze was distant, calculating.
Voryn closed his eyes for a brief moment—then opened them.
"The threshold's crossed," he said.
Rexor nodded once.
They stepped forward.
Behind them, Aurelion Gate closed.
And with it, the last protection the kingdom could offer.
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