Redspire loomed before us, its towering crimson walls stark against the gray sky. The city earned its name from the deep red stone that made up its fortifications, an intimidating sight even from a distance.

The closer we drew, the clearer it became that this wasn’t just another Freehold city. The gates were flanked by Ecclesion banners, their golden sun emblems catching the weak light. Guards in Ecclesion armor stood at attention, their expressions cold and disciplined.

“Well, this isn’t ominous,” Farron muttered, adjusting his bow as we approached.

“Stay sharp,” Jessa said, her tone low but firm. “Ecclesion’s presence here is stronger than we expected. If Gerrik’s fully aligned with them, we’re walking into enemy territory.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I said, though the weight in my chest betrayed my attempt at confidence.

The guards stopped us at the gates, their hands resting on their swords.

“State your business,” one of them said, his voice clipped and formal.

“We’re here to see Lord Gerrik,” Jessa said, stepping forward. “We bring urgent news.”

The guard frowned. “Lord Gerrik doesn’t see visitors without prior approval.”

Jessa didn’t flinch. “He’ll want to hear what we have to say.”

There was a tense pause as the guards exchanged glances. Finally, one of them nodded.

“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll inform Lord Gerrik.”

We stood in tense silence as the minutes dragged on. The other guards watched us warily, their hands never far from their weapons.

“This is a terrible idea,” Farron whispered.

“Probably,” Jessa replied without looking at him.

“Glad we’re all on the same page,” he said.

Eventually, the first guard returned, motioning for us to follow.

“Lord Gerrik has agreed to see you,” he said, though his tone suggested he wasn’t thrilled about it. “But tread carefully. He doesn’t take kindly to strangers making demands.”

“Noted,” Jessa said, her expression unreadable.

The interior of Redspire’s keep was every bit as imposing as its exterior. The walls were lined with banners bearing Ecclesion’s emblem, and the faint hum of the empire’s influence seemed to seep into the very air.

We were led into a grand hall where Gerrik waited, seated on a high-backed chair that was more throne than seat.

He was a broad-shouldered man with a thick beard streaked with gray, his armor polished to a mirror-like shine. His piercing eyes studied us as we entered, and I felt the weight of his scrutiny settle over me like a heavy cloak.

“So,” Gerrik said, his voice deep and commanding. “The Chosen One comes to Redspire. I can’t say I expected this.”

I stepped forward, trying to keep my voice steady. “Lord Gerrik, we’re here because Ecclesion’s influence is spreading through the Freeholds. If we don’t stand together, they’ll take everything.”

Gerrik raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “And why would that concern me? Ecclesion has brought stability to Redspire. Trade flourishes, my people are protected, and my position is secure. What can you offer that they haven’t already given me?”

“Freedom,” Jessa said sharply. “Ecclesion doesn’t bring stability—it brings control. You might feel secure now, but once they’ve taken the Freeholds, they’ll turn on you. They don’t share power.”

Gerrik chuckled, though the sound was humorless. “Bold words. But you forget—I’ve seen what Ecclesion can do. Their strength is unmatched. Aligning with them ensures Redspire’s survival. Aligning with you guarantees nothing.”

The conversation felt like walking a tightrope, every word laden with tension.

“We’re not asking you to risk Redspire’s safety,” I said. “We’re asking you to see the bigger picture. Ecclesion won’t stop at the Freeholds—they’ll take everything. And when they do, even your position won’t save you.”

“And you think you can stop them?” Gerrik asked, his tone skeptical.

“Yes,” I said firmly. “But only if the Freeholds stand together. If we unite, we have a chance. If we don’t, Ecclesion will crush us one by one.”

Gerrik was silent for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as he studied me.

“Interesting,” he said finally. “You speak with conviction, Chosen One. But words are cheap. If you want my support, you’ll have to prove that your cause is worth the risk.”

“How?” I asked.

Gerrik leaned forward, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Ecclesion has asked me to secure the southern trade route. There’s a rebel outpost along the way—small, but persistent. They’ve been a thorn in my side for weeks.”

He paused, his gaze sharpening. “Take it out, and I’ll consider your proposal.”

My stomach sank.

“You’re asking us to kill rebels?” I said, my voice tight.

“I’m asking you to prove your commitment,” Gerrik said. “If you’re willing to do what’s necessary to secure the Freeholds, then perhaps I’ll consider your alliance.”

“And if we refuse?” Jessa asked, her tone icy.

“Then you’ll leave Redspire with nothing,” Gerrik said flatly.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Outside the keep, the tension was palpable.

“This is a trap,” Orin said, his voice low but firm. “He’s testing us—and not in a good way.”

“He wants to see if we’ll follow orders,” Jessa said. “If we do, we risk alienating the very people we’re trying to protect. If we don’t, Gerrik will write us off.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Farron asked. “Because I’m not loving either of those options.”

“We investigate,” I said, my mind racing. “We find out who these rebels are and what they’re fighting for. If they’re just trying to survive, we can’t turn on them. But if they’re working with Ecclesion...”

“Then we act,” Jessa finished grimly.

The outpost wasn’t far—a hidden camp nestled in a dense forest south of Redspire. We moved cautiously, keeping to the shadows as we approached.

When we arrived, it was clear these weren’t Ecclesion’s allies. The rebels were ragged and poorly equipped, their camp a makeshift collection of tents and fire pits. They weren’t a threat—they were survivors.

A woman with a scar across her cheek stepped forward, her hand on the hilt of a rusted sword. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“We’re not your enemies,” I said quickly. “We just want to talk.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t draw her weapon. “Talk fast.”

The rebels’ leader, a man named Calder, explained their situation. They weren’t fighting for power or control—they were fighting to survive. Gerrik had been pressuring them to abandon their land, forcing them into poverty while Ecclesion tightened its grip on the region.

“We’re not rebels,” Calder said. “We’re just people trying to live free.”

I clenched my fists, anger bubbling in my chest. Gerrik wasn’t just working with Ecclesion—he was using their influence to crush anyone who stood in his way.

As we left the camp, my mind raced with possibilities.

“Gerrik lied,” I said. “He’s not trying to protect Redspire—he’s trying to expand his control.”

“So, what do we do?” Farron asked.

“We show him what happens when he underestimates us,” Jessa said, her eyes glinting with determination.

I nodded, gripping my dagger tightly.

Redspire was about to learn that even the Chosen One had limits.

The walk back to Redspire was tense, the weight of what we’d learned settling heavily on our shoulders. The “rebels” weren’t the threat Gerrik had painted them to be—they were desperate, displaced people trying to survive under his heavy-handed rule.

It was a far cry from Ecclesion’s propaganda, and it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“We can’t just follow his orders,” I said, breaking the silence. “If we take out those people, we’re no better than Ecclesion.”

“Agreed,” Jessa said, her voice sharp. “But we can’t ignore Gerrik, either. If we walk away from this, we lose any chance of uniting the Freeholds.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Farron asked. “Because I’m not exactly thrilled about the idea of assassinating some poor farmer with a sword.”

“We turn this against Gerrik,” Jessa said, her tone cold and deliberate. “Expose him for what he is. If the people of Redspire see the truth, Ecclesion loses its grip here—and Gerrik loses his leverage.”

“Expose him how?” Orin asked. “He’s got soldiers, resources, and Ecclesion’s backing. The people are scared, and fear keeps them quiet.”

“Then we give them something louder than fear,” I said, an idea forming in my mind.

The plan took shape as we returned to the city. It was risky, and the margin for error was razor-thin, but it was the only way to undermine Gerrik’s control without playing into his hands.

“We’ll need to move fast,” Jessa said as we gathered in a quiet corner of the city. “Once Gerrik realizes what we’re doing, he’ll act.”

“That’s why we start with the camp,” I said. “We bring the rebels here—show the people who they really are. If Gerrik tries to spin this as an Ecclesion victory, it won’t hold up against the truth.”

“And the people will turn on him,” Ryla said, nodding slowly. “If they see him for what he is, Ecclesion’s support won’t be enough to save him.”

“Great plan,” Farron said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Except for the part where we smuggle an entire camp of refugees into a city crawling with Ecclesion guards.”

“Leave that to me,” Orin said, his tone grim. “I’ve slipped into cities worse than this.”

That night, we returned to the rebel camp under the cover of darkness. Calder met us near the edge of the forest, his expression wary but hopeful.

“What are you doing back here?” he asked.

“We’re going to help you,” I said. “But we need your trust—and your people’s.”

Calder hesitated, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Trust doesn’t come easy out here. Especially not with strangers.”

“You don’t have much choice,” Jessa said bluntly. “Gerrik’s already made up his mind about you. If we don’t act, you’ll lose everything.”

It took some convincing, but eventually, Calder agreed. The rebels were skeptical, but desperation had a way of breaking down walls.

By dawn, we had a plan in motion. Orin would lead the rebels into Redspire through an old smuggler’s route he knew from his mercenary days. Jessa and I would confront Gerrik directly, forcing his hand in front of the people.

“Bold move,” Farron said as we prepared. “Cornering a guy with an army and Ecclesion’s backing. What could go wrong?”

“Everything,” I said, gripping my dagger tightly. “But if we don’t try, nothing changes.”

The smuggler’s route worked like a charm. Orin and the rebels entered the city unnoticed, taking refuge in a warehouse near the main square. From there, they waited for our signal.

Meanwhile, Jessa and I made our way to Gerrik’s keep, our footsteps echoing in the stone corridors as we were led to the main hall.

Gerrik greeted us with a smug smile, lounging in his chair like a king surveying his domain.

“You’ve returned,” he said, his tone dripping with false pleasantries. “I trust the outpost has been dealt with?”

“Not exactly,” I said, stepping forward. “We visited your ‘rebels.’ They’re not what you said they were.”

Gerrik’s smile faltered, but only slightly. “I see you’ve been misled. Ecclesion’s enemies often disguise themselves as victims to garner sympathy.”

“They’re not your enemies,” I said, my voice rising. “They’re your people—displaced and desperate because of you. You’ve been using Ecclesion to crush anyone who stands in your way.”

The room fell silent, tension crackling like a live wire.

“You tread dangerous ground, Chosen One,” Gerrik said, his voice cold. “Be careful not to overstep.”

“I’m not the one overstepping,” I said. “And soon, everyone in Redspire will know it.”

Outside, the square was filling with people. News of the rebels had spread quickly, and the crowd buzzed with curiosity and unease as they gathered near the warehouse.

Farron and Ryla had done their part, ensuring the rebels were seen—but not as Gerrik had painted them. Instead of aggressors, they appeared as they were: families, farmers, and workers, tired and broken but unyielding in their desire to live free.

When Jessa and I arrived with Gerrik, the tension in the square was palpable.

“What is the meaning of this?” Gerrik demanded, his voice booming as he addressed the crowd. “These are the so-called rebels I warned you about! Traitors to Redspire!”

“They’re not traitors,” I said, stepping forward. “They’re victims—of Ecclesion and of you.”

The crowd murmured, their unease growing.

“This is absurd,” Gerrik said, his voice tinged with desperation. “These people threaten the safety of Redspire. I’ve done everything to protect this city!”

“Protect it?” Calder stepped forward, his voice carrying over the crowd. “You’ve bled us dry, stolen our land, and left us to starve! Ecclesion isn’t protecting us—they’re enslaving us, and you’re helping them!”

The murmurs turned into shouts as the crowd began to turn.

“You’ve lied to us!” someone yelled.

“Ecclesion doesn’t care about Redspire!”

Gerrik’s face darkened as the crowd grew louder. “Enough of this! Guards, seize them!”

But the guards hesitated. They looked to the crowd, to the rebels, and then to us. The tide was shifting, and Gerrik knew it.

“This is your doing,” he snarled at me, his voice low and venomous.

“No,” I said. “This is what happens when people see the truth.”

Gerrik’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing more. He turned and stalked back toward the keep, his retreat punctuated by the angry cries of the crowd.

That night, the city buzzed with a new energy. The people of Redspire had seen the cracks in Gerrik’s rule, and Ecclesion’s grip on the city was beginning to loosen.

“We did it,” Jessa said as we regrouped in the warehouse. “But Gerrik won’t go quietly. Ecclesion will push back.”

“Let them try,” I said, though the weight of the day still pressed heavily on me. This was a victory, but it wasn’t the end. It was just another battle in a war that was far from over.