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Rodlin’s sudden transfer of ownership caused brief confusion, but the group quickly calmed down and returned to their seats around the round table. The only difference was the small girl standing quietly behind Leon, but after everything they’d witnessed between Albion and El-Cid, everyone simply accepted it.
In its own strange way, things had wrapped up neatly. Albion’s anger had subsided, Leon and his companions had formally passed the “trial,” and he had earned the right to stand in a dragon’s presence as someone acknowledged. They couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome.
“Your Eminence,” Leon called Irexana quietly.
“Yes, Hero?” Irexana sat with the same calm expression as always, though his glance drifted now and then toward Rodlin.
Leon leaned in and said, “I… never told you, did I? About Rodrick’s soul being inside the sword…?”
“No, you didn’t.” Irexana smiled and shook his head. “But it wasn’t hard to guess. Didn’t I tell you before? That the martial lineage of the Holy King Rodrick has long vanished?”
“Ah, right.”
“And yet you mastered one of his signature arts, the Grand Chariot, without losing your way even once, and even raised its realm. The only reasonable assumption was that you had a mentor… or a guide.”
Leon finally nodded...
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