The flyers appeared overnight.

  They weren’t inflammatory. That was the unsettling part.

  Clean parchment. Careful script. No names, no threats—just questions posed politely enough to pass for concern.

  Who oversees the summoned?What safeguards protect Toradol from misuse of power?Why are decisions made by one man beyond accountability?

  They were posted near wells, taverns, guild boards—places people gathered naturally. By morning, small knots of conversation had formed around them. Not shouting. Not arguing.

  Discussing.

  Sei saw one as he walked with Eva through the lower district. He stopped without realizing it.

  “That’s new,” he murmured.

  Eva followed his gaze. Her jaw tightened.

  “They’re learning,” she said. “Fear always does.”

  The city felt narrower now.

  People still greeted Eva openly—salutes, nods, quiet respect—but when they looked at Sei, there was calculation behind their eyes. Gratitude and suspicion no longer took turns. They existed at the same time.

  A woman bowed deeply to him, thanking him for saving her brother at the market.

  Two steps later, a shopkeeper closed his shutters as they passed.

  Neither reaction surprised him anymore.

  What surprised him was how organized it felt.

  The first demand came quietly.

  A delegation—five people, well dressed, well spoken—petitioned a civic office before noon. They didn’t mention Sei by name at first. They didn’t have to.

  They asked for temporary oversight of extraordinary individuals. For clear chains of authority. For measures to protect public trust.

  By the time the request reached the castle, it already sounded reasonable.

  Eva found out when a junior officer hesitated before saluting her.

  “Captain,” he said carefully, “there’s… discussion.”

  “About what?” she asked.

  He shifted. “About whether your proximity to the summoned compromises—”

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  She didn’t let him finish.

  “Dismissed.”

  The word cracked like steel.

  But the damage lingered.

  By afternoon, the tension had consequences.

  A runner burst into the guild hall, breathless. “Injury at the docks—bad one. Crushed leg.”

  Sei was already moving when the man hesitated.

  “…There’s disagreement,” the runner added. “About whether you should—”

  “I’ll go,” Sei said immediately.

  Eva was at his side without question.

  They arrived to find a man sprawled on the planks, blood pooling beneath him. A healer knelt nearby—but wasn’t acting. Her hands hovered uselessly.

  “What’s wrong?” Sei demanded.

  She looked up, eyes flicking to the small crowd forming. “They told me to wait.”

  “Told you what?”

  “That if I worked with you,” she said quietly, “it would be… noted.”

  The man on the ground groaned, weak and fading.

  Sei didn’t think.

  He knelt, hands steady, voice calm. “I need space.”

  Someone stepped forward.

  “No,” a man said—not shouting, just firm. “We need to know what you’ll do first.”

  The delay was seconds.

  Only seconds.

  But by the time Sei pushed past, the man’s breathing had gone shallow. Too shallow.

  Sei worked anyway—pressure, stabilization, everything he could do without crossing the line he feared—but the man’s pulse slipped through his fingers like water.

  When it was over, no one spoke.

  The healer stood, face pale. “If we had acted sooner…”

  She didn’t finish.

  Sei stood slowly, blood on his hands that had nothing to do with power.

  Eva’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold. “This ends now.”

  But the crowd didn’t scatter.

  They watched her instead.

  By evening, the narrative had shifted again.

  Not Sei is dangerous.

  Eva enables him.

  Whispers framed her loyalty as blindness. Her protection as favoritism. Her past as an adventurer twisted into implication.

  She chose him over Toradol.She’s too close to see clearly.Can she be trusted to stop him if it comes to that?

  Eva heard none of it directly.

  Which made it worse.

  Sei confronted her near the ramparts, anger and guilt tangled tight in his chest.

  “They’re using you,” he said. “Because of me.”

  She didn’t deny it.

  “They would have eventually,” she replied. “You just made it faster.”

  “That’s not—”

  She turned to face him fully. “Sei. Listen to me.”

  Her voice softened. “If my loyalty becomes a tool they use against you, then that loyalty has already done its job.”

  He stared at her.

  “I don’t regret standing with you,” she continued. “But understand this: they’re not deciding whether to trust you anymore.”

  She gestured toward the city below.

  “They’re deciding who gets to decide.”

  The weight of that settled heavy in his chest.

  Night fell over Toradol with uneasy quiet.

  No riots. No arrests.

  Just alignment.

  Sei stood alone at the edge of the battlements, watching lanterns flicker on one by one. Somewhere below, someone would bleed tonight. Someone would hesitate. Someone would wonder if helping was worth the cost.

  And if Sei did nothing—

  That would be a choice too.

  He clenched his fists.

  If I don’t define myself, he thought, they will.

  And this time, the city might not survive the answer.