The Sword That Chooses
It caught the eye of nobles too.
Something had changed.
Some of their soldiers - fighters familiar with combat, wounds, and fallen comrades - had grown tense. Not a word spoken, yet shoulders squared slightly, hands coiled around blades, eyes flickering from warrior to spellcaster… every sign present. A quiet alertness replaced ease.
A quiet tension.
Growing.
Unsettling.
Fully grasping it was beyond the nobles. They missed pieces, stumbled through meaning like a room without light.
Yet that sensation stayed real.
So they waited.
Staring now at Videl. Eyes locked, unblinking. Her presence filled the space. Quiet tension settled around them. Focus narrowed sharp. All attention pulled her way.
Still here, waiting on her reply.
Over by the edge, Shawn stayed put, arms loose at his sides, eyes quiet yet locked on something ahead. Not a twitch moved him, just steady breathing and attention stretched tight.
His face showed nothing like pride.
