Randel finally freed himself from his family’s embrace.
His gaze, warm and brimming with gratitude, slid toward the carriage.
Silently. He stared at the closed door as though he could summon her out with will alone.
(As if trying to coax a spirit from its sanctuary with nothing but a look…)
Inside the carriage.
Amanda froze. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. The sounds outside dulled into a distant hum.
Through the narrow window slit she saw hundreds—no, thousands—of faces. Eyes boring into her. Eyes burning with curiosity. Eyes shining with hope. The ducal family, the nobility, the common folk…
(All these… all these eyes! God, why?!)
(Idiot! You absolute fool! You should have vanished into the forest!)
Randel’s gaze found hers. She shook her head frantically.
(Please understand the signal… please!)
Yet a smile bloomed on his face. Not mocking. Warm, almost tender.
(…So she has feelings too. Heh.) The thought flickered through his mind.
He was in no hurry. He simply stood there and waited.
Then Randel walked to the carriage. Silently opened the door and slipped inside with the grace of a dancer.
Outside, every gaze locked on the closed door. The roar of the crowd faded, muffled by wood and velvet.
“I can’t…” His voice was calm, yet carried a strange, aching urgency. “I can’t imagine introducing you to them on my own.”
(You, who gave me a second life… I cannot leave you nameless in the shadows.)
“I want them to know your name. No—your title.”
Amanda remained silent. Her gauntleted hand dug into the cold metal of her thigh.
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“Please,” he said. Not a command. A plea.
“Come out. Just for a moment. Stand with me.”
The raw sincerity in his voice stilled the tremor in her body, replacing it with an icy calm. She nodded—once, almost imperceptibly.
(…One moment. That will be enough.)
Randel stepped out again. Turned, and with knightly courtesy bowed slightly, offering his hand.
The square held its breath.
Duchess Eleonora pressed a hand to her mouth. Tywin’s brow furrowed, his already razor-sharp gaze sharpening further. Roxana observed coldly, analytically.
A crushing silence.
And then… from the darkness of the carriage, she emerged.
First the golden toe of a sabaton. Then her entire figure in blinding armor, gliding out of shadow as though descending from the heavens.
She stepped slowly onto the cobblestones. Time itself seemed to pause.
Her hand brushed his—light as a feather.
Sunlight struck the golden plates.
For one heartbeat, the world went blind.
“Uhhh…!” A collective gasp tore from thousands of throats. A legend had stepped into reality.
Randel, never releasing her hand, led her toward his family. Each step was torture for Amanda. Thousands of stares seared through her armor. Yet his hand was the only anchor in that sea of curiosity.
They stopped before the three figures.
Randel straightened and spoke—his voice clear, ringing, meant not only for his family but for the entire square, the entire duchy.
“Father. Mother. Sister.”
The words rolled across the stunned plaza.
“And my beloved subjects. There is something I must declare—something more important than the mere fact that I still breathe. I must tell you to whom I owe my life.”
He turned to Amanda. In his eyes shone a reverence bordering on the divine.
“This being is recorded in no chronicle. Her true name is a secret. But her title is the greatest truth I know.”
He drew a breath.
“She is the Keeper of the Ancient Forest. The last of the High Archmagi. Her power lies beyond mortal understanding.”
Another pause—so the words could carve themselves into every heart.
“The Empire’s Crimson Claws were already celebrating my death. In the instant the poisoned blade was to pierce my heart… she appeared. Without a word. With a single sweep of her hand she turned my assassins to ash. That was not magic. That was nature itself rising to shield a life.”
Randel swept his gaze across the square.
“That is why I live. And had I died, House Eichenwald would have fallen. Which means… all of us, our entire future, was saved by her.”
He sank into a deep, reverent bow.
“Give thanks… to the Great Guardian. To the Keeper.”
Every eye clung to the golden figure. There was no fear in them—only awe. Eyes shining with hope. This was no witch. This was a herald. A protector.
Tywin, never breaking his steel stare, slowly inclined his head in profound respect.
Eleonora dipped into a graceful yet heartfelt curtsy, tears now flowing not only for her son but for the one who had saved him.
Roxana… her crimson eyes studied Amanda. Not a trace of fear. Only blazing curiosity and newfound respect for a power capable of overturning the fate of kingdoms.
Amanda stood, feeling the panic that had crushed her chest recede like a tide. In its place rose something new, strange, vast.
She was no longer merely a shadow.
She had become part of something monumental. A symbol of hope for an entire people.
Randel’s gaze enveloped her—endless gratitude, unshakable certainty.
His eyes said: However perilous the road ahead, you chose rightly.
And now you have us.
Allies.