Gunlaug's voice rolled through the hall like distant thunder, and for a moment, nobody answered.
The Guards behind us shifted—barely. Kai stood stiff as a plank, doing his best not to look like the world's most famous singer accidentally wandering into a lion's den. Sasrir was unreadable as ever, a cold shadow at my side.
And me? I stepped forward.
If Gunlaug was expecting fear, or trembling, or hesitation… he was going to be disappointed.
I bowed my head just slightly—just enough to stay polite without actually meaning it.
"Yes," I said. "I do."
My voice echoed back at me, swallowed by the massive hall.
Gunlaug leaned back lazily in his gilded seat. Even from a distance, the molten-gold armor seemed to pulse faintly, alive in a way no armor should be. He tapped a finger against the armrest, thoughtful.
"Then come," he said. "Speak."
I walked forward until I stood beneath the first step of his dais. Sasrir stayed a half-step behind me. Kai stayed farther back, still clearly unsure if he should even be here.
Gunlaug studied me, head tilting slightly like he was examining a new animal he hadn't seen before.
"Well?" he prompted.
I raised my head.
"Two nights ago," I said carefully, "two of your Guards assaulted an innocent woman. She fought back, and they responded by nearly killing her."
The hall vibrated faintly with murmurs—some shocked, some uneasy, some darkly amused.
Gunlaug lifted a hand, and the room fell silent instantly.
"And you," he said, his tone slow… deliberate… almost indulgent, "believe this is worthy of my personal intervention?"
"I believe," I replied, "that if order exists in the Bright Castle, then this is the kind of rot that needs to be cut out before it spreads."
Gunlaug chuckled.
Not loudly. Not joyfully. Just a low, rolling sound—as if he'd heard the world's most charming joke and didn't mind acknowledging it.
"So." Tap… tap… tap went his finger on the throne's arm. "You accuse my men."
My jaw tightened. "I do."
Gunlaug's golden helm didn't move, but I could feel his smile widen.
"And what," he continued, "makes you so certain this incident happened as you say?"
Behind me, Kai finally stepped forward, eyes flashing with barely bridled fury.
"Because I was there," he said. "And because I buried the bloodstains myself."
The hall rippled with reaction—Gasps. Recognition. Whispers.
"Is that—?" "Nightingale?" "The Kai Nightingale?" "What is he doing here?"
Even Gunlaug paused.
Just for a heartbeat.
Then the golden helm tilted faintly in Kai's direction.
"…Interesting."
I exhaled slowly.
This was the moment. The point of no return. The path that led either to justice… or to a very messy, very public fight.
Sasrir's shadow curled subtly around my feet.
Gunlaug leaned forward.
"Well then," he said, voice smooth as oil. "Let's not waste any time."
He snapped his fingers.
Two Guards stepped out from behind the pillars— and I recognized them instantly.
The perpetrators.
They looked confident. Smug. Triumphant. The kind of swagger men wore when they thought their sins were protected by power.
Gunlaug gestured lazily toward them.
"Let the accused step forward."
My hands clenched. Kai's breath caught. Sasrir's eyes sharpened like drawn knives.
The confrontation had begun.
I drew in a steady breath and began.
"Two nights ago," I said, projecting my voice so it carried across the entire chamber, "these two Guards assaulted a Sleeper named Mira. They were drunk, armed, and acting without provocation. When she defended herself, they escalated—beating her until she was left bleeding in the dirt, barely alive."
Kai stepped up beside me, expression tight and controlled… but his hands were shaking.
"I witnessed it," he said. "I was the one who carried Mira away afterward. I was the one who treated her wounds the best I could. And I'm telling you now—if Adam hadn't healed her this morning, she would already be dead."
Gasps. Whispers. The crowd swelled behind us as more people filtered in, no doubt drawn by the sheer audacity of the scene—someone leveling accusations against Guards right in front of the Bright Lord himself.
Gunlaug rested his chin on his fist, as though enjoying a play.
But the two Guards? They strutted forward like they owned the room.
The taller one—a thick-necked brute with a stupid grin plastered across his face—laughed.
"What a sweet little story," he drawled. "Shame it's complete nonsense."
The other folded his arms, snorting. "Yeah. Sounds like someone's trying to cover for a whore who got what was coming."
A sharp, collective intake of breath rippled through the room.
Kai froze—color draining from his face.
My vision narrowed. Sasrir's shadow twitched.
But I forced myself to stay still.
Gunlaug didn't interrupt. Of course he didn't.
I spoke again, voice colder now.
"Mira isn't a prostitute. She's a Sleeper who works in the textile quarter. And witnesses heard her screams. They saw you two dragging her. That alone should be enough to—"
"Oh please," the thick-necked Guard scoffed loudly, waving a dismissive hand. "What witnesses? Show them. Drag them in. Let's see who's stupid enough to lie for your pet singer boy."
Kai inhaled sharply.
"And this," the second Guard added, spreading his arms smugly, "this is your proof?" He jerked a thumb at Kai. "A pretty face with a crying story? Someone who fainted his way into the Dream Realm from a stage?"
A ripple of laughter came from somewhere behind the pillars.
That was when I realized we weren't alone.
The Host had arrived.