Of course, I couldn't see the future, and I won't claim to be smart enough to manipulate something of this scale, but I took an educated guess and pushed a few buttons, and voila, I was right. My assumption was based on five things:
Firstly, Gunlaug had been looking for an excuse to put a leash on Sasrir, and by extension, on me. He couldn't do it openly. Doing so would risk damaging his relationship with Gemma and the other Hunters, and the Host was already fractious enough without adding more fuel to the fire.
But the intent was there. I could see it in his mannerisms, in the way his eyes lingered on Sasrir whenever he moved, in the subtle shifts of his voice whenever he addressed me. He was waiting for an opportunity, and the moment this trial appeared, he snatched it up without hesitation.
Secondly, Tessai's ambitions were no secret. Gunlaug tolerated him because he was useful and because he was one of the oldest Sleepers on the Forgotten Shore, but love? Respect? Trust? None of that existed between them. The man was a blunt instrument, and Gunlaug treated him like one. Judging by what I remembered from the novel and everything I had gathered over the past months, Tessai was little more than a loud, volatile placeholder.
I realized early on that if I provoked Tessai, and forced him into the spotlight, Gunlaug would happily push him forward to collide with Sasrir. No matter who won the duel, Gunlaug benefited-he would learn the powers of one side, and the other would be humiliated in defeat. Actually killing Tessai, though—that was beyond what he expected. That small surprise brought me neatly to the third point.
Thirdly, the Guard faction was already fracturing-the Guards had always been treated as lesser than the Hunters and Pathfinders, as grunts and muscle despised by basically every other Faction in the Castle. Ambitious idiots wanting promotions, old loyalties getting shaky, Harus looming over everyone like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from… it was only a matter of time before someone made a move.
Whether it was us or them didn't actually matter. Something was going to give. Now, with Tessai gone, the whole thing became a powderkeg waiitng to explode-Gunlaug needed to secure order, and fast.
Fourthly, Gunlaug had a superiority complex. A very large one. From his mannerisms, to the hierarchical structure he built in the Bright Castle, to the very people he chose as his Lieutenants, everything pointed toward a man obsessed with control. Not control through brute force alone, but through image, through order, through dominance planted in the minds of his subordinates.
He wanted to be feared, admired, and obeyed in equal measure. That meant he would never allow the Guard Faction, Tessai's faction, to remain headless. And he certainly didn't trust any of Tessai's remaining followers to fill the role.
That was why the first and fourth points overlapped so neatly. Sasrir could replace Tessai cleanly, efficiently, without threatening the structure Gunlaug held so dearly. But Sasrir alone was dangerous. Too independent. Too unpredictable. So he needed something he could control. Something that would keep Sasrir in check.
Which is why my presence… my involvement… became the perfect chain to wrap around Sasrir's neck and keep him loyal.
And lastly? This one's a bit embarrassing. I kind of assumed that if things went very bad—catastrophically bad—Sasrir would be able to kill everyone in that room before they killed me. Or at least buy enough time for some miraculous stroke of luck to save my hide. Not the kind of plan you put on a chalkboard, but a plan is a plan.
So, I connected those threads, made a few risky gambles, and as usual, fate rewarded me with the worst possible version of success. Not death, not freedom—just getting shackled to the Bright Lord with a smile plastered on my face.
Looking back on it now, I can admit it: I had no idea what exactly would happen in that moment. I didn't know if Gunlaug would explode in golden fire, or if the Guards would mutiny, or if Harus would swing that monstrous flail and pulp someone just to make a point. All I knew was that the outcome would revolve around Sasrir, and whatever happened to him would ripple onto me whether I liked it or not.
So when I bowed, when I thanked the Bright Lord for his mercy, when I pretended I wasn't being neatly boxed in like a domesticated pet, it wasn't due to fear. It was confidance, the steadfast and almost religious belief that no matter what happened, I would come through it, me and Sasrir both.
And the funny thing? It worked.
It actually worked.
Though if I had known what that choice would cost me later…
Well. Maybe I still would've done it.
Maybe.
Because at the end of the day, in the Forgotten Shore, you don't get to pick between good options.
You pick between losing a finger or losing the whole arm.
And I've always been partial to keeping my limbs.