The city lord turned his gaze at last toward Ace. His voice was polite, but his eyes held a question sharper than any blade."Lord Ace… what would you have us do? Your judgment will be our course."
The courtroom shifted; even the subordinates leaned forward. Everyone knew the next words would decide everything.
Ace, however, didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned to Lucy. "What do you think, Lucy?"
She blinked, startled. "M-me?"
"You're Thornevale too," Ace said, his voice steady but firm. "Say what you believe. What's best for the territory?"
Lucy's hands tightened on her lap. She hesitated, her eyes flicking from the city lord to the nobles and then back to her brother. "…I don't know," she admitted quietly. "It's… complicated."
Ace's expression softened just slightly, then hardened again as he shook his head. "No. It's simple. You are Thornevale. Do what must be done. Never bow your head to them."
He rose from his seat, the sound of his chair scraping against the stone echoing in the silent hall. His white eyes swept across the chamber, cold and commanding.
"Send word to the entire territory," Ace said. "From this day forward, every branch of the Holy Church is expelled from Thornevale lands."
Gasps erupted across the courtroom. Even the students froze, unable to believe what they were hearing.
Ace continued, voice sharp as steel. "If they send commoners to protest, warn them once. If they persist, exile them for six months—let them see what life is like outside our borders." His tone darkened. "And if any protestor dares to damage property—execute them."
The words fell like thunder.
Even the subordinates who had argued among themselves earlier sat silent, no one daring to object. The city lord lowered his head in acknowledgment, his face calm but his eyes gleaming with respect.
Meanwhile, the students exchanged shocked glances. To them, it was madness. To Ace—it was simply the Thornevale way.
The words still echoed in the air when Pete shot up from his seat. His chair clattered against the floor.
"You—you can't do that!" Pete's voice cracked with outrage, echoing through the chamber. "That's the Holy Church you're talking about! They are benevolent and help people. You're dragging innocent people into this!"
Every eye turned toward him. Some of the subordinates frowned; others looked at him as if he had lost his mind.
Ace didn't even glance at Pete. His white eyes remained fixed on the city lord."My words stand."
The city lord nodded immediately. "As you command, Lord Ace. The decree will be carried out."
Pete's fists clenched, his face red with fury. He looked around, searching for support among the students—but Catherine's expression was unreadable, Emilia's brows were furrowed in silent thought, and Sarina's sharp eyes glimmered with something like approval of Ace's decisiveness. Even Elric was watching quietly, lips twitching as if amused.
"You're all just going to let him do this?!" Pete shouted, his voice desperate now. "The Church is sacred!"
Still, no one spoke.
Finally, Ace turned his gaze toward him, cold as winter. "Sit down, Hero. If you fear the Church, then bow to them. But in Thornevale territory, we bow to no one."
Pete froze, his words dying in his throat. His face twisted, half with rage, half with humiliation. Slowly, stiffly, he sat back down, his jaw clenched so tightly it trembled.
The courtroom session wrapped up, and as soon as they were let out, the students scattered through Brixton's streets like they were on a scavenger hunt, all eager to see what the city looked like.
Emilia, Sarina, and Eldrin formed a little pack, strolling along with their heads turning every which way, taking in everything. Meanwhile, Pete stuck by Catherine like glue, glancing at her every couple of seconds, hoping she'd notice how impressive he thought this place was.
The streets were busy merchants shouting prices, workers carrying crates, smiths hammering metal, even slaves moving under watchful eyes. What stood out most was the lack of preparation.
Unlike other cities that had decorated, cleaned, and staged performances for the Hero's visit, Brixton was simply… Brixton. No false fronts, no painted smiles.
Some students whispered among themselves:
"Did they even try to clean up?"
"I don't know, but it's kind of refreshing. Feels like they didn't bother to put on a show."
"Yeah, and the beggars are just out in the open. It's like they're not even trying to hide it,"
"The city's rough, but I like it. Feels... real, you know?"
"Even the guards don't care that we're here,"
Their murmurs carried a mix of curiosity and respect.
Then they turned a corner—and froze.
In the main square, the scene in front of them hit like a cold slap to the face. In the main square, armored guards were dragging priests, nuns, and temple workers through the streets by thick ropes, their holy robes stained with mud.
The sounds of their protests shouting, pleading filled the air, but the guards ignored them, marching in perfect formation.
Some men and women, burning with a quiet fury, reached out with trembling hands, gripping the arms of the nuns and priests. Their voices cracked as they pleaded, desperation in every word. "Please! She's done nothing wrong! Let her go!"
The guard leading the wagon turned, his expression cold and indifferent. "Let go, civilian, or you all will be exiled too," he barked, his tone flat, as though it was just another order to follow.
A few civilians recoiled, releasing their grip, fear taking over. But others didn't move. Their hands tightened around the holy figures, their eyes filled with desperation and pleading. "You can't do this! She saved my son! She—"
Before the man could finish, the guard's patience snapped.
With a swift motion, the guards raised the hafts of their spears and struck the civilians.
The blow landed with a sickening thud, sending the people crashing to the ground in a heap. Their body shuddered, but they refused to release their hold.
The soldiers didn't hesitate. They hauled the people up, dragging them toward the wagon and throwing him in with the church members.
Their cries faded as he hit the floor with a dull thud, and fear taking over their eyes that were burning with defiance.
"You are not allowed to enter Thornevale territory for six months," one of the guards announced, his voice devoid of empathy. "And if you do, you will be executed on the spot."
The words landed like a blow, a silent warning to anyone else who might consider stepping forward.
The civilians, eyes wide with terror, slowly backed away, their heads down, avoiding the soldiers' gaze. The square fell into an uneasy silence.
The fear in the air was palpable as those who had thought to resist now knew the price for defiance.
The students' eyes widened. Emilia covered her mouth with her hand. Eldrin muttered, "So they're actually kicking the church out." Even Sarina, usually sharp and confident, furrowed her brows in silence.
The civilians in the square had fallen into fearful silence, watching as anyone who resisted was beaten and loaded onto the wagons. The guards, though outnumbered, showed no hesitation. Their movements were disciplined, almost mechanical, carrying out the Thornevale command without a flicker of doubt.
That was when Pete's anger boiled over. His face twisted in outrage, and he suddenly stepped forward, his holy sword flashing into his hand.
Pete's sword gleamed in the sunlight, its holy light shimmering against the cobblestones, casting long reflections.
Civilians gasped, some whispering in awe, others shrinking back in fear. The nuns and priests, bound and shoved toward the wagons, locked eyes with him, their faces filled with desperate hope. They saw the light of hope, the hero.
"I am the Hero chosen by the gods!" Pete's voice rang out, carrying through the square like thunder. His tone burned with righteous fury. "I will not stand for this tyranny! Release them—now!"
A ripple of tension passed through the guards.. Even though Pete was just a boy in their eyes, but he is the hero, his blade was no ordinary weapon, it was divine. Still, none of them moved.
One of the senior guards, a man whose armor bore the marks of countless battles, stepped forward. His voice was calm, but it held a weight that could not be ignored.
"Hero, forgive us," he said, his gaze steady as steel. "But these are the orders of Lord Ace Thornevale himself. We cannot disobey."
Pete's grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles turning white. "Then you leave me no choice!" he declared, raising his blade high. The light from the sword flared brighter, blinding for a moment as it intensified, a radiant promise of divine retribution. "If you won't stop, I will cut you down myself!"
A collective gasp went through the civilians, their breath held tight in their throats.
The tension in the square thickened, like smoke curling in the air. A few mothers pulled their children back, instinctively shielding them from the growing conflict.
Catherine's face drained of color, her eyes wide in fear and uncertainty.
Emilia's gaze flicked between Pete and the guards, unsure how this would end.
Sarina's hand hovered over the hilt of her sword, ready to act at a moment's notice. Elric muttered under his breath, barely audible, "Idiot…"
The guards shifted into combat stances, their spears raised and swords drawn. They weren't confident they could defeat the Hero—no one could—but they had their orders, and orders were orders. Their grip on their weapons tightened, though the unease was evident. This could be a fight that would end in bloodshed, and no one was sure how it would play out.
Then—
A sharp crack echoed.
Everyone turned.
There, standing at the edge of the square, was Ace Thornevale, his presence like a storm rolling in. Lucy stood beside him, her gaze steady, calm as always, but it was Ace himself who drew every eye.
His white eyes glimmered like shards of ice, his posture relaxed as if he were strolling through a peaceful garden. His hands were clasped behind his back, unbothered by the scene unfolding before him.
"Hero," Ace's voice was low, but it sliced through the air, sharp and cold. "Do you plan to draw your sword against Thornevale men… in Thornevale territory?"
Pete's hand trembled on the hilt of his sword, the weight of Ace's gaze pressing down on him like a mountain. His anger, his pride, clashed with the crushing weight of Ace's presence.
The guards, seeing Ace's arrival, tightened their grip on their weapons. The unease on their faces melted into something more like reassurance. If they were going to face the Hero today, they will together with their Lord standing before them.
The civilians, who had been holding their breath, now fell into absolute silence.
Even the priests and nuns stopped struggling, their gazes shifting from Pete to Ace, uncertain of what would come next.
The air crackled with tension as all eyes locked on the confrontation between the two boys, two forces of fate colliding in the heart of Brixton.