The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 106: Viriden Banquet

Chapter 106: Viriden Banquet

Aristocrats and Soldiers stood as we entered, their thunderous applause ringing in my ears. Instinctively, I edged closer to Fyren, taking refuge behind his wide back. But as we walked to the Lord’s table, I mustered my courage and forced myself to remain open and unguarded, leaving my slave crest and demonic features on full display. To my surprise, the cheers only seemed to increase, with several soldiers even whistling in appreciation of my beauty.

Growing red from the army’s adoration, I walked faster, catching up to Soltair before Lord Griffon. The soldiers fell silent as the handsomely dressed Lord stood and extended a hand toward us.

"Welcome, heroes, and thank you for electing to join us in our celebrations. Tales of your bravery shall be spread to every minstrel and bard. We also extend gratitude to the second battalion of the Crimson Guard. This venture was only possible because of your experience and strength. Lastly, we hold this feast in honor of all the soldiers in my domain who joined such legendary figures in braving the unknown and driving back the first demons to invade our world. We mourn our dead, but now is our time to live."

With those grand words, he gestured with his hands and maids streamed into the venue, their arms stacked high with delicacies. Within seconds, a mouth-watering aroma filled the hall and the sound of conversation buzzed to life. We were placed at the Lord’s table, in the seats of honor, and served the finest dishes. I was relieved to find myself between Fyren and Commander Riven, finding solace in their friendly presence.

Lord Griffon played the role of host perfectly, quickly engaging everyone in discussion. He carefully brought up the battle, undoubtedly cautious of ruining the mood, and prompted Soltair to launch into a spirited retelling of our victory. I noticed the Sun Hero’s version lacked his involvement in our injuries, but it wasn’t unexpected.

After listening to his triumphs, Lord Griffon turned to me, eyebrows raising as he beheld my garb. "It seems Miss Silpha did her work well. I had asked her to pass you on a certain cloak, but it seems she never got around to it. I pray your reception has been favorable?"

I responded timidly with, "She offered it, but I decided to dress like this here. Wouldn’t a cloak have been out of place?"

As he absentmindedly stroked his beard, a subtle frown appeared on his face. My tail twitched nervously, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had unintentionally offended him.

"Forgive me," he said, suddenly bowing his head. "I had heard you preferred to hide your presence, and acted presumptiously. If it pleases you, I will have the one responsible for the information executed."

"Wha-?" Soltair’s mouth dropped open, and he stared between us. "Did I just miss something? Raise your head. No one’s getting executed!"

Lord Griffon flinched, but obeyed slowly, tentatively meeting my eyes. My lips parted slightly but words fled my mind, and we ended up staring at each other for some time. Soltair leaned across the table, prodding my shoulder. I glanced at him, finding a curious red flush beneath his hazy eyes

"Hey, what’s wrong with you? It was an honest mistake, right? Even I thought you wanted to hide."

"N-no!" I cried, my tail lashing in agitation. I could feel the heat rising in my cheek, and I opened my mouth in embarrassment "That’s not it at all! I’m grateful for the cloak, and I fully intend to wear it as we travel. It’s just... I just wanted to see how they’d treat me."

The words flowed from my lips in a reckless torrent, leaving me breathless as I finished. Everyone stared at me, and my face grew darker as I realized I’d exposed my intentions. Fyren and Riven simply watched me in amusement, and Lord Griffon seemed completely unruffled. Soltair and Trithe, my longest companions, had their expressions caught somewhere between curiosity and bewilderment.

Sotlair tilted his head, confusion clouding his eyes. "What are you saying?"

With a heavy sigh, I rested my head on my hand and murmured, my voice barely audible, "I just hoped they’d welcome me."

"Oh, that’s all?" he responded incredulously. "That’s not even a concern, is it? You’re a hero after all. Even Lord Griffon was willing to execute someone ’cause he thought you were angry."

"Not a concern?" I mumbled, stunned by his dismissal. Had he truly not seen? Slivers of betrayal sliced into me, throwing my thoughts into turmoil and a cold anguish gripped my heart. Moisture welled up within my eyes, and I turned away, blinking quickly to keep the tears from trickling down my cheeks.

"I mean, I guess you could complain about things at the Divine Throne, but that had to happen. You understand that, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been able to be my slave."

I nodded, looking at my food in the hopes he’d leave me alone.

"What?"

His bewilderment drew my eyes up, and I saw Trithe’s hand on his arm. She gazed at me with something resembling pity, but her eyes hardened as she looked at Soltair. "Let’s have this discussion another time," she muttered. "You’re ruining the mood."

"Fine, fine. Sorry, Lord Griffon. As you were saying?"

The Lord coughed politely, "Thank you. It may not be the best time, but I was wondering what the circumstances behind the Fate Hero’s appearance. It’s public knowledge that you emerged months after the rest, and imagine our surprise at learning you were a slave, and a demonkin no less."

"I was wondering the same thing," Fyren added, looking between the two of us curiously before adding, "If it’s not too much to share."

I flinched at their questions, taking a few deep breaths to gather myself. But Soltair seized the opportunity, launching into a vivid narrative of his own heroism and role in redeeming me from the Warehouse and protecting me from the church. Lord Griffon listened intently through it all, expressing a tapestry of cunning and surprise, taking great interest in controversial events such as the attitude of the Pope toward me, or the scandal involving the priests’ murder.

Listening to Soltair’s narrative, filled with his characteristic bravado, only served to reaffirm my understanding of his character. I had always believed that he had acted out of a sense of heroic duty in our time together, and now, that belief solidified. As the story unfolded, I couldn’t help but feel that the sad, helpless girl he portrayed me as had no redeeming qualities beyond my unwavering love and devotion toward him. Was that truly all he saw me as? What of my accomplishments and magical ability? He’d denied anyone, including myself, who’d claimed I was useless to him. Even now, with our relationship as distant as it was, he respected my contributions.

A queasy unease twisted in my stomach, and I forced myself to rise, discreetly brushing a tear from the corner of my eye. Soltair persisted in his animated storytelling, his face flushed red and his hands dancing through the air. The table, captivated by his narrative, scarcely noticed my quiet departure as I made my way through the bustling banquet hall. I found solace on a secluded balcony that overlooked the sprawling city below, where I could escape the emotion of the moment and collect my thoughts in the cool evening air.

I looked across the cityscape, my eyes tracing the streets we had followed to arrive at the keep. The roads, once lined with cheering crowds, were bathed red in the light of the setting sun. Before long, familiar light footsteps sounded behind me. Trithe’s scent drifted through the air, and I sighed, dropping my gaze to my hands, which grasped the railing tightly.

She glided up beside me, both of us staring wistfully at the setting sun. "He means well, you know. I think he just had a little too much to drink."

"With his resistances?" I muttered skeptically.

"No, it’s true. It’s not like he can’t deactivate them whenever he wants, and sometimes even good men need a moment to forget themselves. You wouldn’t know this, but he’s hurting. Not on the outside, but in his heart."

"Why? He’s the hero of Enusia, with a pretty girlfriend and the glory of closing the first Demon Gate. Isn’t he getting everything he wants?"

Trithe didn’t reply immediately. She waited until the first star appeared in the evening sky before speaking. "Beneath his confidence and bravado, he’s afraid. Afraid of the demons. Afraid of failing the world. Afraid of losing you. But everything he does seems to go wrong. He can’t help but worry if someone else will get hurt."

"Torn between dreams and reality," I said in a hushed tone.

She looked at me in surprise, nodding in agreement with my words. "I think that might be why he talks like that. He’s afraid of being hurt when you... I mean, if you leave."

"Seventh," I whispered, turning to look her in the eye. She stiffened at the word, but quickly neutralized the shock that ran across her face.

"All I’m saying is don’t judge him too harshly. The Sunpurge really eats at him, not to mention the other wounds we suffered," she said, sighing as she laid a hand on her stomach.

"Is that all?" I asked quietly.

She hesitated, her demeanor shifting. "No. Soltair’s mine, so stay away from him. But I won’t forgive you if you hurt him."

For some reason, her prickly words put me at ease. Her attempts at comforting me didn’t quite fit our relationship, but I appreciated her efforts nonetheless.

"You don’t need to worry," I replied, taking a deep breath. "If he wants distance, then I’m more than happy to oblige."

Leaving her with her mouth parted wordlessly, I turned and walked away. Saying those words aloud put my soul at ease, solidifying the commitments I had made to myself. Soltair justified suffering as collateral damage, a sacrifice for the progress of his story. But I was weary of being the one who paid the price for his victories.

A faint warmth pulsed in my soul, enveloping me in a protective embrace, and I knew it wouldn’t be long. My future would be my own.

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