Three Months Later
Thornhaven was no longer a ruin.
The village had changed from blackened bones to living, breathing thing. New buildings had sprouted from old foundations—not grand, but sturdy. Fields yawned green with early harvests that would be ready in weeks. Children frolicked in streets that had been vacant for years, their laughter a sound the land had nearly forgotten.
But success brought attention.
Lioran stood in Blackspire's war room, gazing at reports strewn across the stone table. Standing beside him were Kaelen, Torven, Sister Elara, and a few administrators who'd become invaluable to ruling the growing territories.
"Four more settlements have approached us with the same offer," Torven announced, indicating marks on the map. "Refugees have been pouring north ever since the news got out about Thornhaven. We're facing maybe three thousand displaced people seeking refuge and land."
"Can we take that many?" Kaelen asked.
"With existing resources, hardly," replied Sister Elara. "The Church has pledged further supplies, but our stores aren't limitless. We'll have to make trade arrangements with the merchant guilds, and they're. reluctant."
"Reluctant because of me," Lioran declared. It was not asked.
Sister Elara nodded. "The merchants are pragmatic folk. They have an eye for profit, not politics. But your reputation unsettles them. They are afraid that doing business with lands under the protection of the Dragon Lord will make them the target of other kingdoms."
"We need to dispel that fear," Kaelen said. "Demonstrate to them that doing business with us is safer and more profitable than doing without."
"How?" Renn inquired from where he stood by the door. He'd been coming to these meetings more and more, but he still stayed at the edges, not yet ready to make a total commitment. "We can't make the merchants trust us."
"No," Lioran conceded. "But we can show value." He indicated the trade routes drawn on the map. "The eastern road has been overrun by bandits for decades. Every merchant who uses it loses twenty percent of their goods to raids. If we made that route safe and offered sure passage—"
"They'd pay premium for access," Torven completed. "Clever. We offer protection, they offer goods and cash. Everyone wins."
"There's a complication," a fresh voice added from the doorway.
The group turned to witness a messenger, dusty and tired, standing in the doorway. He bowed hastily. "My lords, my lady. I come with news from the south."
"Speak," Kaelen demanded.
"The High Conclave has rendered their decision. Cardinal Matthias has been excommunicated. Bishop Crane has been promoted to Cardinal, and he's declared a formal crusade upon the northern lands. They're dubbing it the Purification."
A shroud of silence descended upon the room.
Sister Elara's face paled. "How many?"
"Ten thousand soldiers bearing Church banners, with additional levies drawn from allied kingdoms. They're moving north within the month."
Lioran could feel the ember spark to life, hot and hungry. At last, it seemed to whisper. At last, a true foe. At last, fire can be used for what it is meant to do.
"No," he said to himself, resisting the voice in his chest.
"No?" Torven looked puzzled. "My lord, ten thousand soldiers—"
"No burning," Lioran explained. "No repetition of what was done to Duke Rhaemond. If we greet them with flames and carnage, we make the Bishop Crane right. We validate every reason that makes his crusade necessary."
"Then what do you propose?" Kaelen asked. "We can't just allow ten thousand troops to march into our lands unchecked."
"We don't fight them," Lioran stated deliberately, a thought taking shape. "We invite them."
.....
The Gambit
The proposal was reckless to the extent of madness.
"You're suggesting you bring a crusader army into Thornhaven?" Renn's tone was dead with incredulity. "The same Thornhaven we've worked three months to rebuild? With refugees who've just finished recovering from the last war?"
"I want to demonstrate it to them," Lioran said. "Not in words, but in reality. Let them view refugees flourishing. Let them view Church resources being utilized to help people rather than merely enrich monasteries. Let them view the Dragon Lord digging ditches and manning the walls rather than burning cities."
"They'll kill you the moment you're weak," Sister Elara cautioned. "Crane wants you dead above everything else."
"Then I'll have to ensure I don't get weak," Lioran said. "I'm not proposing that we lay down arms. I'm proposing that we don't begin by attacking. We let them look at us first, judge us on what we've achieved instead of what they've been told."
Mira had been sitting in her chair beside the window, listening. Now she spoke, her tone low but with sheer confidence. "It's the right move."
They all turned to gaze at her.
"I've seen what war does," Mira went on. "I've buried husbands and neighbors, watched villages burn, lost everything to violence that demanded it was necessary. If there's any chance—any chance at all—to keep from fighting another war, we must take it." She turned to Lioran. "Even if it costs us everything."
Kaelen tapped his fingers against the table, considering. "If we're going to try this, we must have insurance. I'll place my troops in the nearby territories—close enough to deter attack, but not close enough to be threatening. Sister Elara, you'll need to make contact with reform-minded clergy among Crane's troops. They're out there, even if they're quiet at the moment."
"And me?" Renn asked.
"You'll be in Thornhaven," Lioran said. "If this fails, if Crane demands an attack, you evacuate the refugees. All of them. Take them through the evacuation channels we've planned."
"And you?"
"I'll do what I should have done to start with," Lioran said. "I'll speak. Actually speak. Not as the Dragon Lord attempting to scare them. Just as a person pleading to be heard."
The ember burned with this, shouting that it was weakness, that diplomacy was the weapon of those who were too cowardly to take what they were due. But Lioran pressed his eyes shut and breathed, forcing the voice back, back, until it was just something in the background.
When he opened them again, they were human gray.
"Send the invitation," he told the servant.
.....
Matthias Arrives
Two weeks later, Cardinal Matthias arrived at Thornhaven without warning.
The old man seemed thinner now, the excommunication having worn him down in ways that time itself hadn't been able to. He was dressed in simple robes now, the regalia that had served to define his station gone. But his eyes were still sharp, still keen.
Lioran waited for him at the edge of the village. "Your Eminence—"
"Only Matthias now," the old man broke in softly. "They've taken everything else, but they'll never take the name my mother gave me."
"I'm sorry," said Lioran. "This is my fault. If I hadn't—"
"If you hadn't provided me with the excuse to do what I should have done forty years ago?" Matthias chuckled. "No, boy. Do not apologize for providing an old man with the courage to at last live by his principles." He gazed beyond Lioran to Thornhaven, to green fields and rebuilt buildings. "In any case, this appears to be worth an excommunication."
They strolled through the settlement side by side, Matthias welcoming refugees who had been assisted by Church aid, seeing children play safely, noting the collaboration between Flamebound guards and Church officials.
"Crane is afraid of this," Matthias said finally. "That's why he's arriving with an army. Not because you're dangerous, but because this is dangerous. If people believe that the Dragon Lord can build rather than merely burn, if people believe the resources of the Church are too being used for true good rather than institutional upkeep, if people believe secular and divine authority cooperating—its foundations are destroyed."
"Will they fight?" Lioran asked. "When they get here?"
"Some will," Matthias conceded. "Crane's core believers, those who actually believe you're demonic. But most? Most are simply soldiers obeying orders, priests unsure of their way. If you can demonstrate to them something worthy of believing in, something better than what they had behind. " He left it hanging.
"It is possible. Not likely, but possible."
"Then we'll work with possible," Lioran said.
.....
The Night Before
The crusading host was sighted by scouts in late afternoon—a day sooner than anticipated.
Thornhaven prepared, but war was not their intention. Refugees were relocated to safer ground but not evacuated. Guards were stationed but not told to draw weapons unless attacked directly. Cooking fires were started, causing the settlement to appear inviting instead of defensive.
Lioran stood at the center of the village, dressed not in armor but in simple tunics. The dragon-scale armor stood in his chambers, a reminder of what he might be if things required it. But tonight, he was something else.
Renn stood next to him, ready for combat but easy. "You know this can all go badly quickly."
"Yes," Lioran replied.
"And you're still doing it?"
"Yes."
"Why?" Renn questioned. "You can burn them. Scatter them before they even enter the village. Why risk everything on the hope they'll listen?"
Lioran considered Kyrris, dying in his arms. His sister, hanging from a tree. All the deaths fire had bought, and how little they'd really achieved.
"Because," he spoke slowly, "if I burn every one who dares threaten me, I'll be burning all my life. And soon there'll be no one left but me and ash."
Far away on the horizon, torches glowed. Ten thousand hearts, walking north with righteous intent.
And in Thornhaven, a single boy stood waiting, deciding for the first time in his life to confront power with something other than power.
The storm had arrived.
Now came the moment of truth.