Reasoning

Solas stared at the sword tip, unfazed by the gleam of steel inches from his face. You could do something like. He sat up slowly and deliberately, his expression serene and his tone gentle—disarming. "Is this how guests are welcomed in your kingdom? A curious custom… I suppose I have much to learn about your people."

The woman leading them—clearly the one in charge—had wolf ears that flicked in irritation with every word he spoke. Her hair, a deep violet, framed a sharp, angular face, and silver eyes that bore into him like twin blades. Steel armor clung to her form with practiced grace, her stance rigid as a drawn bowstring.

Her wolf ears twitched at the calm cadence of his voice. Something about the way he spoke unsettled her—too smooth, too confident. Was he mocking her?

She cast the thought aside, steeling herself. "I am Vaelira, Commanding Knight of the Elara Kingdom. We have received reports of an unauthorized male trespassing in restricted territory—and engaging in… questionable behavior."

Her silver eyes flicked toward Rowena, then back to Solas. "Under Commanding Act Ten, Article Four, I hereby place you under arrest."

Solas remained still, the edge of a faint smile brushing his lips. He raised a hand and gestured toward Rowena with slow elegance. "Rowena acted out of compassion. If that alone is a crime, then this kingdom is more fractured than I imagined."

A beat of silence. The two knights holding Rowena exchanged hesitant glances. Their grip slackened slightly, and doubt crept across their faces. His words—rational, calm, even noble—planted seeds.

Vaelira saw it instantly. Her jaw tightened.

"You twist words like silk," she snapped. "But compassion doesn't override law. You are a man in Elara—a land where men are not permitted without proper sanction. You will be detained until the Court of Order deems your existence lawful."

Solas, still calm, tilted his head as though mulling over her decree like a philosopher rather than a prisoner. "If your kingdom truly desires order… perhaps I am not your threat, but your solution."

Vaelira paused for a moment, unsure how to respond to such a statement. Then, recomposing herself, she spoke with firm resolve. "You will be taken to the Capital. There, you shall receive proper evaluation and treatment."

Solas tilted his head downward, eyes lifting to meet hers. His tone remained soft, yet ominous. "If you do take me… I hope it's not a choice your kingdom comes to regret."

A silence settled. Vaelira's grip on her sword tightened. There was weight in his voice—not just words, but quiet warning. His gaze was not that of a cornered man, but of a predator studying its captor.

She felt it in her chest. Unease.

Vaelira said nothing more. She pulled her blade back and sheathed it with a soft click, the sound sharp in the tension-filled room. Her silver eyes slid toward Rowena—who stood frozen, stunned, as if only now realizing the true depth of Solas' presence.

"Detain her as well," Vaelira ordered, gesturing toward Rowena. "For aiding an unsanctioned outsider… and ensure she is given proper clothing." Her voice was cold, indifferent to the girl's current state of undress.

One of the knights beside her stepped forward, producing a set of iron cuffs. She approached Solas cautiously.

He did not resist. Quietly, he raised his wrists, expression unreadable.

Vaelira turned toward the door but glanced back once more. "Confiscate all of her personal belongings. Everything." With that, she stepped out of the room.

"Ah—" Rowena began, as if to protest. But her voice caught in her throat. Her shoulders sagged. Defeated. Confused. Silent.

One of the knights walked over to the shelf, retrieving Rowena's garments and handing them to her. She dressed in silence, the cold metal of the cuffs locking around her wrists the moment she finished.

They were soon escorted out of the room and toward the front door. As they passed the front desk, the woman who usually greeted her—the only one who had ever shown her kindness—stood with folded arms.

Her expression was tight. Disappointed.

"I'm disappointed in you," she said flatly.

Those words hit harder than anything.

Rowena wanted to respond, to explain—but a knight behind her gave a sharp nudge, urging her forward. The front door creaked open, sunlight pouring in.

Solas was already outside, standing tall and still, the breeze playing softly with his hair. There was something strange about him now. He looked… elegant. Unshakable.

A part of her admired him.

But another part—a wounded part—was beginning to loathe him.

Outside, the villagers gathered. Their eyes weren't on Solas. They were on her.

She felt it—the weight of their judgment, their hatred. It had always been there, ever since she was a child. No friends. No place. Always an outcast.

Now, she was worse than that. A traitor.

She wanted to collapse. To cry, beg for all of it to stop. But she only stared at the ground as tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision.

'If I'd never met him… none of this would've happened.' The thought pierced through her like a blade. Her life was ruined.

Then—The sunlight dimmed.

Something blocked the warmth from reaching her face. Slowly, she looked up.

Solas was standing in front of her. Silent. Still. Blocking the view of the villagers, shielding her from their stares with nothing but his presence.

Her heart skipped. She didn't know what to say, or what to feel.

A moment ago, she had hated him. Now… she didn't. That hate had vanished as quickly as it came.

"Y-You…" Her voice trembled, the words barely forming.

Solas turned slightly, glancing back at her over his shoulder with a soft smile. "Do not lower your head… not for them." His voice was calm. Comforting.

"The world has always feared those who choose differently—seen them as inferior. You simply stood beside me. And now… they see you."

He turned fully to face her, his eyes meeting hers with a rare sincerity. "You were an outcast before. But now, they will remember your name. That is not disgrace—it is the beginning."

"Of a new era."

Rowena's heart fluttered. She stood speechless—as if an angel had fallen from the stars and offered her a promise too grand to grasp. She hadn't realized it until now, but she was beginning to fall for him.

Before she could speak, one of the knights gave Solas a firm shove, muttering about him stalling.

Unbeknownst to Rowena, Vaelira had been watching everything unfold from a short distance. Her eyes hadn't left him once. She had dealt with countless people before—soldiers, nobles, criminals—but never someone like him. And certainly never a man.

Solas was different. He didn't feel like the others. He was… an anomaly.

Her thoughts tangled as she tried to make sense of him—and then her body stiffened.

He was looking directly at her.

As if he had known she was watching all along.

He offered her a soft smile—small, unreadable—just before another knight gave him another shove to move forward.

Solas now stood before a reinforced black caravan, crafted to carry prisoners. A faint creak came from its heavy iron frame. By its rear door hung a lantern, inside of which floated a softly glowing blue crystal, suspended in glass.

His gaze narrowed slightly.

Magic…? he wondered, eyeing the strange crystal. Was this the first glimpse of what this world truly held?

"Stop standing around and get moving," barked a knight behind him.

Clink.

The metal latch clicked, and the caravan door swung open with a slow groan.

Solas closed his eyes. A quiet smile formed on his lips.

Then, with regal composure, he stepped up and vanished into the shadows of the caravan.