The room was quieter than I expected in the wake of my proclamation of innocence. Most of the guards were looking to the soldiers for guidance, and most of the soldiers were simply standing there, watching the only noble in the room while waiting for orders. The only exception was the injured soldier, who was quietly muttering with his hand pressed to his brow where a small gash had opened up that was bleeding a lot more than the size of the injury would indicate.

A curl of smoke rose up from his forehead and the bleeding abruptly stopped, but his face was still a mess. At least he didn't seem to blame me for his injury, as far as I could tell, since he was staring at the tattered cloth with a vexed expression as though it was the culprit. Did the one-armed soldier think that this had all been part of some plan?

Lord Runax still hadn't spoken. He pocketed the cloth in his hand and was looking pensively at my mother, who was staring at me in shock with her mouth hanging open slightly and her perfect purple eyebrows raised. He glanced at me briefly, then scanned the room before turning back to silently study my mother again.

Jaws shouldered aside the few guards between us and looked down at me in concern. "Are you hurt?" he asked, crouching beside me as he ran his thick meaty hands (each larger than my entire head) over my arms and shoulders with a gentleness that would surprise anyone who didn't know him. He had placed himself squarely between the injured soldier and me.

I answered in a quiet voice, noticing that my father's actions had drawn much of the attention in the room back in my direction, "I'm ok, Dad. What happened?"

Lord Runax finally broke his silence while staring at Mother, a strange expression on his even stranger face, before looking back at me midsentence, “You are obviously a Cultivator, young man.” His tone had altered somewhat, but I couldn't tell how it was different at first. “But I can see you were not aware that your mother had broken our laws," he continued, and I recognized what had changed: The level of scorn was vastly reduced, if not gone altogether.

I was confused, but beginning to put some clues together. I glanced at my mother, hoping for some guidance, but she was still staring at me in shock as if completely unable to process what was happening. Which... made sense, I supposed, since, aside from me, she knew the most about what had actually transpired and was therefore the only other person who was completely certain that she was innocent of the charges levied against her.

“Isa either stole a Cultivation Technique from House Flameward for you to practice, or she taught you her own,” Frog-face shook his head, letting out a dramatic sigh as a few of the guards gasped at the accusation. “Let me advise you, young man,” he added, the change in his attitude toward me even more noticeable now, “you had best just admit that you were given the stolen Cultivation Technique by your mother, and swear that your father had nothing to do with it. The punishments for such crimes are severe, but I can promise to do my best to shield Master Toly from the worst of it.” He glanced around at the guards, a gruesome grin stretching his features. "I know that the poor Blacksmith is much loved here in North Stone Village, and it would hardly seem fair to punish a common man for the crimes of a Flamehand."

I... wait... was this bastard playing politics right now? Not able to muster a response to Lord Runax's outlandish words, my jaw opened and closed uselessly as I looked over at my mother again. Her face was pale, but she seemed to have composed herself somewhat and was now looking straight at Jaws.

My father had returned to his feet, looming over everyone else in attendance even as he tilted his body sideways so that he could reach down far enough to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Isa is innocent," he rumbled, glancing between his wife and the noble who was accusing her.

Mind racing, I struggled to find a solution that would get us out of this mess. Blasting my way out was not an option, especially since it seemed that I wasn't the one in danger here (according to Froggie's words, and the way he was speaking to me with such a different attitude now for some unknown reason). My thoughts were churning with one plan after another, but I keep silent as I worked out what would give us the best chance at the best resolution. And what would be the ideal outcome, anyway? Going back to my normal life with my parents, working at the Smithy...

The Smithy... something occurred to me, and my mind flashed to my years of practice in the Waresroom, and the lumpy red-skinned Blacksmith who never liked me... Had she been spying on me? Is that what this whole thing was about!? Not that it mattered now, judging from the reaction of Lord Runax and my mother to the exploding crystal. They were the only two people present who had reacted with a level of shock that went far beyond the simple surprise caused by 'rock-go-boom' and the resulting flash of light, to the point that Mom still hadn't spoken (a miracle in itself) and Lord Runax continued to ignore his injured hands (which looked rather painful, and were dripping blood all over his finery).

My energy levels must have been too high for - or simply incompatible with - whatever measurement method they used. Clearly, whatever story I came up with was going to have to include an explanation for the crystal.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Taking a deep breath, I made eye contact with Lord Runax, glad that he still hadn't restarted his trick that had been clouding my thoughts prior to the explosion. I needed more information, and to properly understand the stakes, before I decided which of my partially formed pans to proceed with. (After all, there wasn't much point in taking a foolhardy risk if the only penalty would be a monetary fine, for example.)

"Can I talk to you... alone?" I asked.

He studied me for a moment before nodding. "I will now speak with the young man privately," he proclaimed, "clear the room." He gestured for me to follow him into the adjoining chamber, which looked like a fully furnished office (as opposed to the nearly empty stone room we occupied at the moment, decorated by only a few scattered tapestries).

I looked up at my father, "Dad, please take care of Mom. You are right, she is innocent." I lowered my voice for the last part, hoping that he would be able to hear me over the din of the guards and soldiers in the room moving to follow Lord Froggy's orders.

Jaws gave me a concerned look and gently squeezed my shoulder, and then began to make his way back to his wife. I wondered what he was thinking... he was smarter than most people gave him credit for. I just hoped that - however this went - I wouldn't need to lie to him.

The room was cleared as I followed the noble into the next room. Lord Runax walked up to the desk and leaned against it, lifting one leg to half sit on the intricately carved engravings decorating the polished wood as he gestured for me to take one of the chairs. The casual pose looked odd on him, the relaxed and confident posture contrasting with his wide, ugly, frog-like features. At some point his hands had stopped bleeding, and I wondered if his thick, lumpy skin felt less pain than normal as he carefully cleaned them on his robes.

He gestured for me to begin, and I fumbled to find the words for a moment, not wanting to give too much away, before simply asking what kind of punishments we were looking at if found guilty. I was trying to ask as if it was an innocent theoretical question about our laws, which may have seemed pointless... but I had a plan. There was no judge or jury here, save for the man in front of me - commoners had no right to a trial in this land. If the noble in charge thought us guilty, the best we could hope for was to flee to the territory of a different noble (preferably from a competing House) and plead our case... but that still put our fates in the hands of someone else, and was not worth considering unless things became truly desperate.

Lord Runax smiled at me (ugg...), "Well, young man, in theory the crime of stealing a Cultivation Technique is one of the most severe, and heavily punished, transgressions of all. The penalty can be reduced for former nobles, of course, depending on their motivations, but it is still a very heavy crime."

"Worse than murder, or..." I paused, struggling to come up with a way to say 'sexual assault' in this world's language and failing - it simply wasn't a subject that had ever come up, "forced mating?"

The noble tilted his head slightly, studying me, "You certainly have a lot of... strange questions, but I suppose you are rather young. Yes, it is typically a far worse crime than murder, and we need not speak of the exceptions. As to arranged marriage, I think calling it 'forced mating' is rather crude, but I can understand why Isa might have taught you as such."

My eyes widened and my mind went blank for a moment as the implications of his assumption hit me. But there was no time for distractions now: I had bigger frogs to fry. I nodded politely, trying to give the impression of a young boy listening to a respected elder.

He let out a sigh, shifting his posture on the desk, before continuing, "Without my assistance, I'm afraid to say that your parents will be sent to the Shieldwall for the rest of their lives, paying penance by dedicating themselves to keeping our lands safe from the beasts of the Endless Ocean." He leaned forward, "But if you agree to swear yourself to my service, I will protect your father and allow him to remain here, in the village. Your mother will still have to face a tribunal in the City, but we can provide testimony and fight to have her sentence lessened, or even commuted entirely!"

Finally knowing the stakes helped me calm down, and brought things back into perspective. It could have been worse, but it looked like my best-case scenario here was still getting my family torn apart. Maybe it was time for Operation 'Wild-swing-one', and if that failed then I would have to decide between trying to knock him out and escaping to territory controlled by Woflram's family (aka, Operation Wild-swing-two), or biding my time and freeing Mom later once I had enough power. At least execution seemed to be off the table, which made things a little less dire.

“It is a simple choice, young man,” Lord Runax said, his voice surprisingly gentle, “Tell me that Isa taught you without anyone else knowing, swear to serve my family when you come of age, and you can leave here with your father. This village needs all the Blacksmiths we can get, and..." he paused as if searching his memory, "Toly is a good man.” I still couldn't get over how his attitude towards me had done such a complete reversal, from condescending and cold to warm and caring. “Isa must remain here until we return to the City, but I swear we will sue for leniency. She must have somehow sensed your Cultivation Talent, and simply couldn't stop herself from teaching you!”

Wild swing time. I took a deep breath. “I didn’t get a Cultivation Technique from my parents. My mother and father are completely innocent - they don't know anything about this!” I said, trying to keep my six-year-old voice as firm and steady as I could.

Lord Runax sighed again, obviously not believing me, “Then where did you get it from?”

“Merrik,” I said, feeling only slightly dizzy as the outrageous lie passed my lips, "I mean, The Merrik. He taught me." I watched as Lord Runax sucked in a sharp hissing breath and held it, leaning back away from me in a manner than made me think he might topple off the desk.

And then he did.