A Blade That Never Fell
"You…" Tommy was so angry that he almost vomited blood. If the old man beside him hadn't stopped him, he would have raised his saber and killed Harry.
His chest rose and fell sharply, each breath heavier than the last.
The humiliation burned.
It wasn't just anger—it was insult carved straight into his pride.
Who dared to speak to him like this?
Who dared?
Other than his father…
Other than the crown prince…
No one.
Absolutely no one.
Yet here—
In this forsaken stretch of land beneath a burning sky—
A nobody had mocked him openly.
And worse—
He couldn't immediately cut him down.
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his saber, knuckles whitening, veins faintly bulging under the strain. The urge to strike was overwhelming—raw, instinctive.
But—
The hand on his wrist didn't move.
Steady.
Firm.
Unyielding.
