The summons came at dawn.
A royal officer knocked on the inn's door with restrained firmness. There was no urgency in the gesture, but there was enough formality to make it clear that the decision had been made.
"Your presence is requested in the main hall."
I was already awake.
I did not sleep deeply that night. Not because of anxiety. But because, when a decision involves an entire kingdom, the body understands before the mind.
Elara adjusted her cloak naturally. Vespera discreetly checked the building's exit routes, a habit she never abandoned. Liriel maintained a serene expression, but her posture was more aligned than usual. Rai'kanna looked prepared for any scenario. Lyannis carried her usual analytical focus.
We walked together to the palace.
The main hall was different from the first audience. More silent. Less formal. There were not as many observers. Only the king and a few representatives of the council.
It was an environment for decision, not spectacle.
We stopped before the throne.
I slightly bowed my head in respect.
The king observed us for a few seconds before speaking.
"The council has concluded its deliberation."
Direct.
Without detours.
"The Kingdom of the Cyclopes recognizes the gravity of the threat represented by the Fourth General."
He paused briefly.
"And recognizes that ignoring a possible weakness would be a strategic mistake."
My gaze remained steady.
"Therefore, we grant authorization for the Ancestral Stone to be lent to you."
There was no applause.
There was no exaggerated reaction.
Only solid silence.
Rai'kanna took a deep breath beside me.
Lyannis maintained a neutral expression, but I noticed the slight relaxation in her shoulders.
Elara did not take her eyes off the king.
Vespera was evaluating the environment.
Liriel remained serene.
The king continued.
"This authorization is temporary. The stone will be delivered under three conditions."
It was expected.
"First: the artifact must be used exclusively against the threat of the Fourth General."
"I agree."
"Second: if it does not demonstrate effectiveness, it must be returned immediately."
"I agree."
"Third: if you survive the confrontation, you will personally return to give a full report of what occurred."
That condition was deeper than it seemed.
It was not just protocol.
It was transparency.
"I agree."
The king held my gaze.
"Do you understand that, by accepting these conditions, you assume responsibility not only for your own life, but for the honor of this kingdom?"
"I understand."
There was no hesitation.
He nodded slightly.
One of the councilors stepped forward. He was the same one who had questioned more firmly during the previous debate.
"The decision was not unanimous."
I knew.
"But it was a majority."
"Yes."
He looked at me directly.
"Do not fail."
There was no arrogance in the phrase.
It was an honest demand.
"I do not intend to."
The king made a subtle gesture.
Two guards brought a box of dark stone, sealed with ancient inscriptions. It was not ornate. It was solid. Heavy.
The box was placed in the center of the hall.
The seal was broken with a touch from the king himself.
Inside, the stone rested.
Even having seen it before in the forge, there, under the natural light of the hall, it seemed different.
Simple.
Ancient.
Without evident shine.
But filled with history.
"This stone has belonged to the royal lineage for countless generations," the king declared. "It is not a symbol of raw power. It is a symbol of responsibility."
I approached.
The air around it seemed slightly denser.
I extended my hand.
The moment my fingers touched the cold surface, I felt that subtle vibration again.
It was not aggressive energy.
It was recognition.
Liriel took a discreet step forward.
"It responds."
"Yes," I murmured.
Elara analyzed the magical flow with concentration.
"There is no instability."
Lyannis added.
"But there is depth."
Rai'kanna observed my expression.
Vespera evaluated possible external reactions.
The king spoke again.
"The integration into your weapon must be done under supervision of the royal forge."
"We have already started this process."
He seemed slightly surprised.
"The master craftsman confirmed compatibility."
One of the councilors murmured something quietly to another.
The king nodded.
"Then the decision was correct."
I closed the box and handed it to one of the guards who would accompany us to the forge.
Before leaving, the king called me.
"Takumi."
I stopped.
"If the stone does not work…"
I waited.
"…do not let its failure become yours."
The sentence lingered in the air for a few seconds.
"Understood."
We left the hall with firm steps.
The corridor seemed quieter than before.
It was not tension.
It was formalization.
Outside the palace, the dry wind of the mountains passed between the stone towers.
Rai'kanna was the first to speak.
"They trusted."
"Yes."
Elara added.
"But there are still eyes watching."
"Natural," said Vespera.
Lyannis was mentally analyzing the next steps.
"We need to fully integrate it before departing."
Liriel walked beside me.
"Do you feel a different weight now?"
"I do."
It was not fear.
It was clarity.
Before, I was seeking a possibility.
Now, I carried the bet of an entire kingdom.
Fifty percent.
Maybe less.
Maybe more.
But now there was something concrete in my hands.
We returned to the royal forge to formalize the final incorporation.
As we walked, I thought about the king's words.
Not letting the stone's failure become mine.
If it works, it will be an advantage.
If it does not, I will continue.
But now, the political decision had been transformed into action.
The Kingdom of the Cyclopes made its choice.
And I made mine by accepting it.
When I looked at the mountains surrounding the capital, I felt something I had not felt there before.
It was not only respect.
It was commitment.
I will not fight only for Vaillo.
Not only for myself.
But also for those who decided that the risk of acting was less than the risk of remaining still.
And when I face the Fourth General,
this stone will not be just a tool.
It will be proof that several kingdoms chose to resist.
The sun rose slowly over the stone horizon.
The bet was made official.
And now there was no more room for retreat.