No one answered.

But chains stopped rattling. Breathing slowed. Even the dwarves' fists loosened on the bars.

A new beginning.

What did that even mean?

Is it not going back to their lives that they knew before being chained?

Felicity's lips parted. She spoke only three words.

"The Primordial Villain."

The name hit the chamber like a stone dropped into water.

Some reacted at once. Sharp intakes of breath. Murmurs. A few curses under breath. Others frowned, confused, the name meaning nothing to them yet.

"Have you heard?" Felicity continued with a chirpy voice. "A new power has risen in the Vraven Kingdom. One that has threatened the natural order that has stood since recorded history."

Her eyes flicked briefly to the side, then returned forward.

"He brought chaos into a world that knew no change. He defied the systems we rely on. My mother has driven herself into obsession trying to hunt him down. My father suffers endless headaches because this man refuses to fit into the mold set by the three great powers."

Her chin lifted.

"He does not submit. He does not swear fealty. He follows his own agenda."

Whispers grew.

"He has killed high nobles," Felicity continued. "He infiltrated my father's birthday banquet, masquerading as a noble, and took me with him from right under my parents' noses. He enslaved those who believed themselves untouchable."

Her voice steadied further. "And he grows stronger with every passing day. We are witnessing a revolution no mortal can stop. A new beginning for all denizens of the Iskaris Continent, and the world of Thalorind at large."

Her gaze sharpened.

"For my father, try as he may, cannot stop him. Queen Myrasyn, King Ragnar, the lords of the Confederation… We are powerless mortals before a demigod. The Primordial Villain is on a path that will not be stopped, for he is a living force of nature that can never be stopped."

A beat passed.

"And that force of nature, the Primordial Villain… is here."

Gasps tore through the chamber.

Fear surged openly now.

Before anyone could shout, before chains could be shaken again, a presence moved.

A man stepped forward from the shadows behind Felicity.

Dark armor caught the torchlight, drinking it in. Heat rolled outward as his helmet began to change, its surface receding and dissolving into red flame that peeled away like smoke. A moment later, it was gone.

His face was revealed.

Recognition rippled instantly.

"That's him…" a dwarf whispered, voice rough. "I've seen the poster."

"A monster," a beastkin whimpered. "He ravaged our lands during the undead tide…"

More voices joined. Fear layered over fear.

Then the man reached out.

Two fingers tapped lightly against the top of Felicity's head.

A gentle pat.

This cruel monster should not be capable of such a gentle gesture.

The chamber froze.

Felicity looked back over her shoulder, and instantly, her face brightened, offering the ominous man a small, genuine smile.

"His hand is right on her head… Her life is in grave danger… And she seems so happy…?"

People were confused. The appearance of the man, combined with the passing rumors, painted him as a monster in human skin.

But what their eyes showed them did not match their expectations.

Quinlan returned Felicity's little smile, faint and unguarded.

The reaction was immediate.

Shock eclipsed fear.

A human man's jaw hung open. A dwarf forgot to breathe. An elf stared, eyes wide, as if reality had slipped sideways.

The Primordial Villain stood behind the human princess.

And she smiled at him like he was a person she trusted with her entire being. And not just that… A person she felt joy just to be near.

An impossible turn of events.

Felicity turned forward again.

Her expression settled. The softness faded, replaced by firmness.

Quinlan's hand remained on her head, fingers resting there without weight, as if the gesture required no effort at all. The contrast was striking. A feared figure standing silent, and a young princess speaking beneath his touch.

"It looks strange… I know."

Felicity said as her eyes moved across the cages again.

"He is called a villain. But the definition of the term 'villain' is broad. A cruel and evil person is a villain. But so is someone who stands against the established order. Someone who threatens those in control. To them, that alone makes him a villain."

"Quinlan is the latter."

Murmurs stirred.

"He does not seek destruction. He seeks release. From systems that turn people into property. From cycles that repeat because they benefit those at the top."

Quinlan's hand shifted slightly, a faint, absent-minded motion.

"He is building a nation of his own. It's only one city for now. Miri Town, named after his beloved mother."

Some blinked at that.

"It is surrounded by lush forests," Felicity went on. Some elven eyes instantly showed more interest in what she had to say. "It is deep in the forests between Greenvale and Ravenshade. Dense enough to swallow roads, wide enough that armies would struggle to supply themselves even if they found its location. A place not claimed by the three great powers."

Her gaze sharpened.

"How would you feel about becoming some of the first citizens of something new? Not refugees, not slaves, but founding members of the greatest order in the world."

Doubt surfaced immediately.

Humans exchanged glances. Some leaned closer to the bars. Among the non-humans, doubt was much stronger. Ears flicked back. Shoulders tensed. Expressions closed off.

Felicity nodded once, as if she had expected it.

"Yes. You would rather return to your homelands. To familiar lands. Familiar forests. Familiar skies."

Her eyes moved to the dwarves first, then the elves, then the beastkin.

"But let me ask you something," she said. "Was it only humans who failed you?"

Silence answered.

"Yes, it was humans who chained you, who profited from your suffering. But where were your own leaders? Where were the negotiations? The ransoms? They are invading now, yes, but it's not to free you… It's to claim land, to enrich themselves. You are nothing in the minds of your rulers, just a few numbers that they may or may not receive back as a bonus for their conquest, letting them use you again."

A dwarf's jaw clenched.

"What makes you believe," Felicity asked, "that the next war will not do the same? That the next conflict will not claim your children instead of you?"

Her voice lowered.

"Many of you are here today because you were conscripted into their armies and thrown away as disposable pawns. You know it can happen again."

She let that settle before continuing.

"Miri Town is far from the borders. Far from the front lines. Even if discovered, an invasion would bleed itself dry long before reaching its walls."

She inhaled slowly. "And this is not exile. Quinlan's rise will not stop here. When the world changes, paths will open."

Her eyes softened.

"You will see your families again. Likely sooner than you could cross the lands between Greyhaven and your homes."

Some faces shifted, still not convinced.

A dwarf near the far end scoffed. "Why would I want to live with humans, beasts, and elves? That sounds like endless conflict. I would rather return to my homeland than live in constant strife."

Felicity nodded.

"That's fair," she said.

Then she smiled.

"I haven't reached the best part yet."

Several heads lifted.

"You see, conflict between the races exists because our leaders are flawed. Mortal. Vulnerable to pressure. To fear. To compromise."

Her expression turned faintly wry. "Even my father is not the absolute tyrant some like to call him. He bends, because if he does not, the dukes and nobles will revolt, ruining the prosperity of the nation."

Her smile widened slightly.

"That is why slavery still exists, even if my father himself is a good person who hates it. He is but a mortal man with limited power."

She glanced back, briefly, at Quinlan's armored form.

"But Quinlan does not bend. He does not age. He does not decay. There will be no incompetent heirs replacing him. He does not need the approval of others to rule. And the best part of the best part is…"

Her eyes burned with conviction.

"He is not human. Not elf. Not dwarf. Not beastkin." She spread her hands. "He is a Primordial, an immortal race that legends like Luminara, the first elf, and Bjorn, the greatest smith in the history of the world, are. He stands above us all as the sole man with the tools to become the absolute tyrant my father only dreams he could become."

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