As they made their way toward the main auditorium for the eting with the Five Popes, Ryn’s thoughts refused to slow.
Habit took over. He slipped into analysis automatically: pros, cons, leverages, and consequences...trying to impose structure on sothing that clearly had none.
Start with the cons.
The most obvious one was exposure.
The version of him that people had dismissed, the "diocre" persona, was now harder to maintain now that he was in the lilight.
That anonymity had been useful.
But—
It wasn’t gone.
Not entirely.
If anything, it had rely shifted.
Ryn exhaled quietly.
People wouldn’t assu sudden competence. They would assu sothing had happened under the table.
And strangely enough, that worked in his favor.
Although... it would taint the Princess’s image just as much.
Which brought the question crashing back.
Why did she go through with it?
Soone like her would have known exactly how this would look.
He glanced ahead again, at the Princess walking in front. Even as nobles pressed her with questions, she answered each one calmly, without strain.
Alia slowed just enough for him to notice.
Ryn caught it out of the corner of his eye before she spoke. The slight adjustnt in pace, the way her gaze lingered on him longer than usual.
"You’re thinking too loudly," she said.
He let out a soft huff.
"That obvious?"
"To ," Alia replied.
Ryn didn’t deny it.
She walked beside him in silence for a few more steps before speaking again, voice lower this ti.
"You know what this ans for you," she said.
Not a question.
Ryn nodded.
"However, there’s an upside."
Alia tilted her head at the response.
"I don’t have to pretend as much," Ryn said.
She raised an eyebrow.
"My actions won’t need excuses anymore," he continued.
"If I step in, people will assu I’m supposed to. If I ask questions, it’s because it’s my role."
He glanced at her, a faint edge of dry amusent surfacing.
"Before this, everything I did had to be justified after the fact. Now I get justification first."
Alia absorbed that, then nodded slowly.
"...That does suit you," she admitted.
Ryn allowed himself a small breath.
"It’s a hassle," he said. "But it gives room to act. And room to act openly is dangerous in the right way."
Alia’s gaze sharpened, lined with both concern and understanding.
"Just don’t forget," she said, "that justification cuts both ways."
"I know," Ryn replied. "That’s why I plan to use it before anyone else does."
Ahead, the doors to the main auditorium ca into view.
Ryn straightened slightly, letting the last of his thoughts settle.
Whatever Princess Gremory was planning—
He refused to dance on her palms.
***
The main auditorium was nothing like the East Wing.
Sound returned all at once. Voices layered over another, constant roars that pressed in from every direction. Tiered seating rose in wide arcs, packed with spectators from every corner of the capital. Anyone with even a marginal stake in the Path had found a seat.
Ryn took it in at a glance.
...So this was public.
High above, upon an elevated dais carved into the stone itself, five thrones stood in a shallow arc. Each was distinct in shape and material, yet arranged with deliberate equality. The Five Popes were already seated, their presence heavy even at a distance.
Below them stood a raised platform for an announcer.
And along the sides of the hall—
Cabins.
Six of them.
Each enclosed just enough to offer privacy, each marked clearly with faction sigils. Temporary command rooms, elevated and visible all at once. Places ant to be watched.
Gremory’s cabin lay to the right.
As they entered, Ryn felt it imdiately. Heads turned, whispers started. Yet inside, sothing else caught his eye.
"Ryn!"
Jay Ferris nearly tripped over his own feet rushing toward him, coat half-buttoned, hair still faintly dusted with what looked suspiciously like chalk or reagent residue.
"You’re here—! I an, of course you are, but—"
He stopped short only when he realized how close he’d gotten, then laughed awkwardly and stepped back half a pace.
Ryn blinked.
"...Jay?"
Alia turned fully now, brows knitting in surprise.
"You were already inside?" she asked.
Jay nodded rapidly.
"Yeah—soone ca for earlier. Official-looking. Papers, docunts, the whole thing. I thought it was a mistake until they ntioned the Path."
Ryn opened his mouth.
"How did you—"
Before he could finish, movent at the cabin’s entrance drew his attention.
Princess Gremory paused just inside the threshold, her gaze briefly flicking between the three of them. When her eyes t Ryn’s, she smiled.
Not openly.
Just enough.
Ryn’s jaw tightened.
He turned back to Jay. "We need to talk. Now."
Jay nodded just as quickly. "Please."
Ryn took a breath—
Before he could speak his next words, the crowd had gone silent as a voice rose from the center of the auditorium.
The announcer stepped forward onto the platform, voice amplified by magic, carrying cleanly to every corner of the hall.
"Esteed guests," he called. "Representatives of the six factions. And honored citizens of the capital."
Ryn’s chance evaporated.
"Welco," the announcer continued, "to the opening assembly of the Hero’s Path."
Above them, the Five Popes sat unmoving.
Below, the crowd leaned in.
Ryn exhaled slowly, eyes forward, questions stacking up faster than he could shelve them.
Later, he told himself.
Whether he liked it or not—
The Path was already underway.
The announcer let the silence stretch just long enough for the weight of the room to settle.
"Before we proceed," he said smoothly.
"Allow to extend our gratitude—to the Five Popes for their presence, to the six great factions for their cooperation, and to the people, whose faith gives the Hero’s Path its aning."
A ripple of polite applause moved through the auditorium.
Ryn barely heard it.
"And now," the announcer continued, raising one hand, "we will begin with formal introductions."
The crowd leaned forward as one.
"Each faction will present their Hero Candidate, along with the mbers of the party that will accompany them along the Path."
The first cabin was addressed.
The announcer’s voice rang out again, clear and practiced.
"We begin with the northern territories," he said. "The Beast Kingdom: Dheam."
A stir ran through the crowd.
The cabin doors opened, and Kharvos stepped forward.
He was exactly what Ryn expected, and exactly what worried him.
A Beastman with large horns. Tall and broad, scarred in ways that weren’t ornantal. Even without special Blessings or Techniques, Ryn could feel his Essence radiating across the auditorium.
Ryn’s eyes moved automatically, cataloging.
Dheam went straight forward with their strongest. Expected.
The announcer didn’t linger.
"Our second presentation," he continued, "the Dwarven Kingdom: Khaz Vordun."
The atmosphere shifted.
This ti, the crowd leaned forward.
The candidate who stepped out did not look like a Hero.
Braum Aegis was shorter, broader in build, his hands calloused in a way that instantly told of centuries of experience in the forge. He nodded once to the announcer.
Then gestured for his party to step forward.
Ryn’s focus sharpened.
Mostly craftsn with one combative mber.
This wasn’t a fighting force. It was an infrastructure team.
"Next," he said. "The eastern territories."
The crowd’s murmurs kept to a crawl as the third door opened.
Lunara-Freya stepped forward.
An elven mage with white hair, usually a symbol of them being of the High-Elf lineage. Her party followed in asured order: mages first, attendants second, and at the rear a single escort whose presence felt...restrained yet dominating at the sa ti.
The applause was different this ti.
Less noise. More stillness.
Ryn watched closely.
Her expression looked almost...disgusted. Like she never wanted to be here in the first place.
The elves withdrew as cleanly as they had entered.
"And now," he said, carefully, "the spirit-aligned territories."
A pause.
No cabin doors opened.
Murmurs rippled through the audience as a lone representative stepped forward.
"There will be no formal presentation at this ti," the representative said.
"The spirits have confird participation. Details will follow."
That was it.
The crowd didn’t know what to do with that.
So frowned. Others whispered. A few laughed uncertainly, as if this were a joke they hadn’t quite caught.
The announcer chuckled awkwardly, took a breath, and prepared to continue.
"Now we shall comnce to the southern territories."
Ryn already knew what was coming next.
The announcer didn’t need to raise his voice this ti.
"The Churches of Raias," he said.
The reaction ca anyway.
Applause swelled imdiately—louder than any crowd reaction that was given thus far. The comfort of a figure people already believed in.
The doors opened, and Aurelian Voss stepped into the light.
Ryn felt the shift at once.
Aurelian smiled easily, offered a hand over his heart, and the crowd answered as if rehearsed. Not because they’d been told to.
His armor was immaculate without being gaudy, his posture relaxed, like a man accustod to ceremony rather than burdened by it.
The applause only grew as the rest of Aurelian’s party was announced.
Ryn dismissed them almost imdiately.
Until one person stepped forward.
Sera.
His focus snapped so hard it felt physical.
She looked... ordinary. No sign of rank or distinction beyond the quiet confidence of soone who had been selected.
Ryn understood imdiately why the Church had picked her.
Sera was soone with potential, yet not enough influence to be overlooked in decision-making.
And just as quickly, sothing cold settled behind his ribs.
She’s close to the shapeshifter.
On one hand, he knew that she would be an invaluable source of inside information. On the other...she’d be the closest to danger.
Ryn exhaled slowly. He had to warn her sohow...but not now.
The applause faded.
"Finally," the announcer said, voice steady, "we turn to the Gremory Empire."
The shift was imdiate. Conversations died. Eyes turned as one toward the Gremory cabin—first to Alia, then to the Crown Princess herself.
"Princess Taylor Gremory," the announcer continued. "Please present your Hero Candidate."
Taylor stood.
At this mont, it seed as if the whole world was holding its breath collectively.
"Gremory has made its decision," she said.
Her tone contained no hesitation nor ceremony.
"Our Hero Candidate will be—"
She didn’t pause.
"Fritz Calder."
Fritz stepped forward imdiately, erging from behind Ryn.
No hesitation.
No glance toward the crowd.
He walked into the open with steady, asured strides, posture straight, expression solemn—but unshaken.
Never defiant or uncertain.
Only one word can be used to describe his expression.
Ready.
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