Hythesion took a slow, deliberate step forward, the heavy chain of his cuffs rattling against the floor. He didn't look like a prisoner anymore; he looked like a predator who had finally found an opening.
"I believe there is an old, but still existing law in Neverwinter." Hythesion's voice rang out, steady and clear, cutting through the whimpers of the blinded nobles. "A law that gives prisoners like us a second chance. The Law of Retribution."
The name of the ancient decree rippled through the hall like a cold draft. The older nobles looked at one another, their eyes widening, while the younger ones began to murmur in confusion.
"I believe you're familiar with it, Ser Larry," Hythesion said, his gaze locking onto the advisor. He took another step, the blue static from his cuffs snapping in the air. "And as for the retribution of my colleagues and myself... I demand a Trial of Combat. Me, against you, Ser Larry."
A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room. The murmurs turned into a frantic buzzing. Larry's smug expression didn't just fade; it disintegrated. He stood frozen on the dais, his mouth slightly agape, speechless for the first time in his life.
"Can he do that?" a young Count whispered loudly. "Is that actually allowed?"
An elderly Duke near the front, his eyes still red from the light spell, leaned on his cane and spoke up. "It is written in the foundation of our laws. A person seeking Retribution may challenge anyone who has stood as their accuser. If the Gods grant them victory, the crown must grant them their life."
Glynlie leaned toward Hythesion, her voice a frantic, low hiss. "Hyth, what are doing?"
"Just trust me," Hythesion whispered back, his eyes never leaving Larry's face.
"This is ridiculous!" Larry finally found his voice, though it was an octave higher than usual. He turned to the mindless King, then to the crowd. "I will not stoop to brawling with a common criminal!"
Hythesion tilted his head, a dark, mocking grin spreading across his face. "And why is that, Ser Larry? I could have sworn I heard you bragging about your power just a moment ago. Is the 'Great Ser Larry' actually afraid of a puny, little mercenary like me?"
The insult landed like a slap. A ripple of uneasy laughter and whispering broke out among the nobles. They were a fickle audience; they loved power, but they loathed cowardice.
"Take him, Ser Larry!" a voice shouted from the gallery.
"Show him the power of the crown!" another joined in. "Beat him to death!"
Larry looked at the crowd, then back at Hythesion's mocking eyes. His face turned a deep, blotchy red as his pride finally overruled his caution. He straightened his silks, his ego swelling to hide the flicker of fear in his chest.
"Fine," Larry spat, his voice trembling with irritation and arrogance. "I accept."
The noblemen cheers for Ser Larry.
"We will have a Trial of Combat this Afternoon." The King's voice cut through the murmur of the court like cold steel on marble. "Until then, lock these prisoners back to their cells."
Guards surged forward, their gauntleted hands closing around Hythesion's arms. The young elf didn't resist, his gaze fixed on the throne where the King sat rigid as a statue—his eyes, once warm as amber honey, now glazed over with an unnatural silver sheen.
Before the guards could pull him away, Ser Larry stepped forward. The royal knight's crimson cloak swept the floor as he leaned close, his breath hot against Hythesion's ear. His voice, usually booming with pride, was low and venomous.
"I don't know what you're up to, kid," he hissed, his scarred knuckles brushing Hythesion's shoulder in a gesture that could pass for concern to anyone watching. "But I assure you—that trial will be your death."
Then he stepped back, nodding sharply to the guards, and Hythesion was dragged down the winding stone corridors toward the dungeons.
The damp air hit them hard—thick with the smell of mold and iron.
As the guards put them back inside of the cold walls, Geth turned to Hythesion with a grim look. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
Hythesion shifted, the leather cord around his wrist pulling tight as it hid the bracelet beneath his sleeve. "Of course I do. It's the only way we won't hang!"
Maitara, her dark eyes wide with worry, leaned forward through the bars separating their cells. "How did you even know about the law of retribution?"
"I read it in a book back when I was just a child" Hythesion said, his voice steady despite the ache in his shoulders. "I think this trial will be my only chance to go near the King."
Akmenos, who'd been silent since their arrest, finally spoke—his voice rough with anger. "Why would you risk your life to get near him?"
Hythesion's gaze drifted toward the castle above, where the throne room lay. "I saw it in the King's eyes—that same red glow I saw in the guards who captured us earlier. He's not acting on his own. I believe Ser Larry's controlling him with a mind controlling spell the same way he controls the guards.."
At that, Glynlie slammed her palm against the stone wall, making the torches flicker. "Damn it all," she cried out, her voice cracking. "No wonder the King's been actung weird lately. For three years, he told me I was the one he trusted to keep his kingdom safe—he trusted me to become Neverwinter's General Captain. But when Ser Larry whispered I was plotting treason, he believed it, instantly!"
Maitara bit her lip, then looked at Hythesion with a glimmer of hope. "Sir Hyth—how would you undo the spell?"
"With this–" Hythesion carefully pulled up his sleeve, revealing the carved stone of the Anubis bracelet, "The Anubis Bracelet can undo any mind spells, But it only work once and if I put it on the victim myself. That's why I challenged Ser Larry specifically. In the arena, he'll be focused on killing me—and with him away from the King's side, I'll have my chance to get close enough to slip this on his wrist. If I can break the spell, the King will finally see the truth."
The dungeon fell silent, save for the drip of water in the distance.
All of the sudden, The sharp clank-clank-clank of heavy boots ricochets off the dungeon walls, cutting through the stale air. A line of guards stops before Glynlie's cell.
"Captain Glynlie—you have been summoned by the King." The lead guard's voice is flat, no trace of the respect he once showed her.
Glynlie scrambles to her feet, the rough fabric of her prison tunic catching on the stone floor. "What?" She stares at the guards, shock warring with a flicker of desperate hope in her eyes.
The cell door swings open with a rusty groan. She pauses at the threshold, turning back to face the others through the iron bars. "I'll talk to the king. I'll convince him to put an end to any of this."
Hythesion tugs against his chains, jaw tight with worry. "Are you kidding? The king won't listen to anyone—only Ser Larry."
"I have to try." Her voice is soft but steady, hope burning bright in her gaze. With one last look at her friends, she falls in step behind the guards as they march up the stone stairs, her footsteps fading into silence.
Hythesion slumps back against the wall, his eyes scanning the dungeon. They land on the farthest corner cell—Ethan's cell. The door hangs ajar, lock snapped clean in two. The straw pallet is messy, the small wooden stool overturned. Ethan is long gone.
Three hours crawl by like years in the dungeon. The torches flicker and sputter, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. Maitara traces patterns in the dust on the floor with her finger. Geth paces in small circles, his chains rattling with each step. Akmenos sits with his back to the wall, staring at the door as if willing it to open.
Hythesion doesn't move—his eyes fixed on the stairs Glynlie climbed hours ago, his mind racing through every possible scenario. Did she get through to the King? Did Ser Larry stop her before she could even speak? Or worse…
The silence shatters when heavy boots thunder down the corridor again. A dozen guards fill the narrow space, their armor clanking with each breath.
"Sir Hythesion," the lead guard calls out, his voice carrying none of the warmth it might have held before the mind control took hold. "You will come with us. We will escort you to the King's Arena."
Hythesion pushes himself up, his muscles stiff from sitting on cold stone. "Wait—wait a minute. Where's Glynlie? She was summoned by the King hours ago. Why hasn't she come back?" Confusion tightens his brow—he'd been counting on her to at least return with word, good or bad.
One of the other guards shifts his weight, his silver-glazed eyes blank. "She was tasked by the King to travel to Grimwood immediately. Something about investigating the death rate in the northern villages. She likely did not have time to visit you before departing."
Hythesion falls silent, his jaw clenched. A sudden feel of the past where Glynlie left him three years ago, the same one he's feeling right now.
The guard slides open the heavy iron bolt on their cell door with a sharp click. "Colleagues of Hythesion—you are permitted to come with us to witness the trial."
Akmenos is on his feet in an instant, moving toward the door with a mix of anger and resolve. "I'll watch," he says, his voice low and steady. "If something goes wrong out there, I want to be close enough to do something about it."
Maitara follows, her hands trembling slightly as she smooths down her tunic. "We all should go. We won't let him face this one alone."
The guards lead them up the winding stairs.
The walk to the King's Arena leads through crowded streets, where merchants have set up stalls selling roasted meat and sweet cakes to the throng of spectators. Most eyes are fixed on the massive stone structure looming ahead—its arched gates wide open, spilling out the roar of thousands of voices. Inside, rich nobles fill the raised box seats, their colorful silks and furs a stark contrast to the packed wooden benches below. Wine flows freely from silver flagons, and every few moments the crowd erupts in cheers for "Ser Larry! Ser Larry!"
Hythesion walks alone down the sandy corridor leading to the arena floor, his cuffs already removed—though he feels more trapped than ever. Geth, Akmenos, and Maitara are ushered to a bench near the front, where they can see every inch of the circular sand pit. Their hands grip the wooden rails, knuckles white with tension.
Suddenly, a booming voice cuts through the chaos like a whip crack. "SILENCE!! ALL HAIL THE KING!"
The noise dies instantly. King Tronan enters the arena, his crimson cloak trailing behind him as he ascends to his golden throne. Ser Larry walks at his side, his scarred face split into a broad smile that makes Hythesion's skin crawl. The King sits rigid as always, his eyes silver and empty—but when the crowd bows low in respect, he gives a stiff nod that draws another wave of cheers.
Ser Larry steps onto a small wooden platform raised above the crowd, making him visible to everyone in the arena. "Hello, everyone!" he calls out, his voice carrying across the sand on enchanted amplifiers. "It's wonderful to see so many loyal citizens gathered here today!"
The crowd roars its approval, and he chuckles, waving a gloved hand. "Alright, alright—settle down! Yes, I know you all love me!" He's more than a knight here—he's a hero, idolized by common folk and nobles alike for tales of his "brave deeds" protecting the kingdom.
"I know you've all come to watch me put an end to this traitor who dares to ask for retribution despite of their crimes, "he continues, gesturing toward Hythesion with a dramatic flourish. "I was ready to give you all a show worthy of Neverwinter's finest traditions—but I'm afraid...I- am terribly… sick." He brings a hand to his chest and lets out a fake, wheezing cough.
"WHAT!!?" Akmenos shouts, jumping to his feet. Other voices join his, the crowd murmuring in confusion and disappointment.
"Oh no… this can't be good," Maitara whispers, gripping Geth's arm.
Ser Larry holds up his hands to calm them. "I know, I know—you've all traveled far to be here! And Believe me, I wanted to be in the trial myself but if I force my unwell self, I may no longer serve the crown as greatly as I always be, and the fight won't be even so it'll not be as entertaining as you want it to be. But...as one of the loyal citizens of this great kingdom, I would always follow the law. So instead of fighting myself, I have chosen someone worthy to take my place!"
The crowd's groans shift to cautious cheers, and Hythesion feels a cold knot form in his stomach. Something is very wrong here—this wasn't part of any plan he'd read about in that old book.
"I introduce to you… my contender—CAPTAIN GLYNLIE!"
The name hits Hythesion like a physical blow. His eyes go wide with fury and fear as the crowd explodes in shocked excitement. Drums begin to pound—a deep, rhythmic beat that echoes in everyone's chest like a war cry.
"Holy shi—" Geth breathes, his voice trailing off as he stares at the northern hallway where a figure is emerging.
"WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING!?" Akmenos bellows, shaking the wooden rails in his rage.
The figure walking into the arena is unmistakably Glynlie—but she's not the woman they locked in the dungeon hours ago. She wears full black armor that seems to drink the sunlight, polished to a mirror sheen. Where she once carried a single sword, two blades hang at her hips—their hilts carved with twisted symbols Hythesion doesn't recognize. Her steps are steady, her stance fierce and deadly, and when she lifts her head, her eyes burn with an unnatural, glowing red light.
"Now, I know some of you will wonder—why choose someone who was once accused of treason alongside this prisoner?" Ser Larry pauses, letting his gaze sweep across the crowd to build drama, while Glynlie walks to the center of arena. "But let me tell you the truth! Captain Glynlie came to the King herself—on her own two feet —begging for a chance to redeem her name. She told his Majesty that she'd been misled, tricked by this sorcerer crimin right there-" He points to Hythesion at the center of Arena, "–she will prove her loyalty by fighting in my stead today!"
He spreads his arms wide as the crowd erupts in thunderous cheers—some shouting her name now, believing every word of his lie. "What a loyal captain we have here! What courage to set things right! Give her your applause, people of Neverwinter!"
She stops ten paces from Hythesion, her hands resting on the pommels of her swords. The familiar warmth of her green eyes is gone—replaced by a cold, empty hunger that makes him take an involuntary step back.
"Glynlie?" he whispers, his voice cracking with fear. "Not you too…"