Lyan tried to ignore the heat creeping up his neck, though he knew the spirits could feel his embarrassment. "I may be a Viscount," he declared, raising his voice so all could hear, "but I am also still a mercenary, and I will continue to fight for the safety of Astellia and its people."
Another cheer erupted, louder this time. The soldiers banged their mugs together, and the townsfolk danced with renewed energy. Lanterns swayed, the firelight casting wild shadows, and the music swelled with a feverish joy.
Erich stepped closer, his voice lower now, meant for Lyan's ears. "You've won them, Lyan. Their hearts and their faith. Few nobles could do so, even with a decade of rule."
Lyan's smile remained steady. "I only did what I must, Your Highness. But this victory is fragile. I sense shadows that have not yet cleared."
Erich's gaze sharpened. "You mean the breach. The way the enemy moved as if they knew your plans."
