Thorne lifted his hand, then lowered them, his palms facing down.
The crowd slowly quieted.
"There will be order to this," he said calmly, the warmth never leaving his voice. "So that no one is harmed needlessly, and so that these duels remain what they are meant to be. A symbol of unity. Of healing. Together we will rebuild our city. We will defend it. We will destroy whoever dares to oppose us."
He turned slightly, gesturing toward the far side of the square where a row of pavilions had been erected.
"Those who wish to participate will register with my officials before sundown. No coin required. No titles necessary. Only your name and your willingness to stand for Pralis."
Another wave of cheers rolled through the crowd.
"The duels will begin at first light tomorrow," Thorne continued. "Each bout will be overseen by my guards to ensure fairness and safety. Victory will be decided by yield, incapacitation, or surrender. Death," he added gently, "will not be the goal. We have seen enough of that recently."
Liar.
"As stated earlier, for every duel fought, one thousand royal credits will be allocated toward rebuilding homes, schools, and places of work affected by last night's tragedy."
He paused, letting the number sink in.
"And for those who fight especially well," Thorne said, smiling, "there will be…additional recognition."
The crowd erupted again, chanting his name.
Thorne waited, basking in it, then pressed on.
"These duels are not about strength alone. They are about resolve. About courage in the face of fear. About reminding those who would harm us that Pralis does not break."
He placed a hand over his heart once more.
"I swear to you, as I always have, that I will stand with you through this recovery. Today. Tomorrow. And every day after."
The cheers were deafening now.
Thorne gave a final nod, turned, and stepped back from the edge of the stage. His guards closed in around him as he disappeared behind the banners, leaving only his words behind.
The boy stepped forward and watched, but he did not pursue.
I suppose my words had finally reached him. Maybe he would see that my plan was stronger than his suicidal attack.
I looked over and saw Aris jumping across the alley, rolling into a standing position. She glared at the boy. "What the hell are you doing? You could've died jumping across that."
"So why did you jump?" The boy asked.
"Because I'm not weak," Aris replied. "Sometimes, I can't understand what is going through your mind."
"I'm not weak either," the boy said through gritted teeth.
"Calm down," I said. "We need to plan."
The boy sighed. "So…what did you think about the speech?"
"He's full of shit," Aris said. "As always. Though that duel has drawn my attention. Sounds like something I would be good at."
"Agreed," the boy said. "I think Sword and I will participate as well."
Aris scoffed. "Seriously? You won't make it past the first round."
"I guess we'll see," the boy said. "But I don't intend to let up until I reach the final round. Nice to know you think so little of me."
"No," Aris started. "That's not what–"
"I get it," the boy interrupted. "I'm weak. I'm small. I suppose we will see the outcome."
He turned away and started down the stairs, leaving Aris behind.
Bad idea, I warned. We needed Aris more than we knew.
I don't care, the boy thought with frustration. I'll destroy her if I have to. As long as I can get to Thorne.
This was not the way. We couldn't split up from one of the only people that we trusted.
I looked back at Aris, who had her head down in defeat.
She was on our side.
She wanted to help us.
And yet, we were leaving her behind. And there was nothing I could do about that.
For the first time in a while, I felt helpless.
But the boy had made up his mind. He was going to fight in Thorne's duel by himself. Aris would be just another competitor.
I urged him to turn back, but the boy had already started down the stairs.
"Don't judge me, Sword," he said. "I did what had to be done. Everyone is our enemy now."
Which was exactly what Thorne wanted. The boy was playing right into his hand.
And there was nothing I could do about it.