Chereads / Rebirth of the Dragon Lord / Chapter 4 - Evidence Enough

Chapter 4 - Evidence Enough

Nightfall brought a haunting stillness to Coral Spit, as though the sea itself held its breath. Lanterns flickered along the boardwalks, reflected in the inky water below. Most villagers had retreated to their huts, shutters drawn tight. Only the distant rumble of waves and the soft creak of wooden beams punctured the hush.

Kano Sea-Glass sat on a splintery step behind his family's lean-to hut. Ever since his talk with Brannis—the wounded Stormrune soldier—his mind had churned in endless circles. They harnessed dragons. They destroyed Stormrune. They'll come for the isles. Those words battered him like rising tides, refusing to let him rest.

Above him, a tattered canopy sagged under the day's rainfall. It dripped steadily onto the sand, forming dark puddles around Kano's feet. He stared at them, remembering how Brannis spoke of enslaved dragons and unstoppable fleets. A shiver crawled through him. If half of it was true, Coral Spit was in more danger than the council cared to admit.

A quiet step behind him broke his reverie. Reina, his mother, emerged carrying a small bundle. "Your father's inside," she said softly. "He's preparing to…report to the council first thing in the morning."

Kano nodded, unable to hide the knot of dread twisting in his stomach. If the council insisted, Brannis would be cast out—perhaps left on a half-working boat to fend for himself. In his condition, that might be a death sentence. Worse still, it would mean the village would learn nothing of the threat creeping across the seas.

"I know we can't fight the council," Kano murmured, voice low. "But we can't just watch them do this."

Reina lowered herself onto the step beside him. The flickering lamplight from inside the hut revealed the worry etched into her features. "Your father wishes there was another way," she said. "We both do. But we also can't risk you or the rest of the family. We have—"

Her words caught. They both knew the unspoken reality: a broken-named family, deeply in debt, constantly one misstep from losing all freedom. The council's edicts were like shackles around their wrists.

She gently pressed the small bundle into Kano's hands. "There's fresh bread in there. A waterskin. And a little dried fish. For…Brannis. Something to keep his strength up."

Kano held the bundle, touched by the gesture. He opened his mouth to thank her, but a wave of conflicting emotion rolled through him—gratitude and frustration tangled together. Tariq Stormrune still echoed in his dreams, as if the fortress's shattered essence lived inside him. Maybe it was madness, or maybe Brannis was right: the Name had found a new vessel. The possibility made his heart pound.

He stood, glancing back at the hut's interior where dim lamplight silhouetted Marro's tense figure. "Let me talk to him," Kano said, meeting his mother's eyes. "Maybe there's a way—some plan—where we don't betray the council but still help Brannis. Maybe if I had evidence of the danger…"

Reina's gaze flickered with hope, then fell. "Just be careful," she whispered, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "If the council sees this as defiance—"

"I know," Kano cut in, summoning a tight smile to reassure her. In truth, his heart drummed in terror at the thought of official punishment or conscription. But the stakes were too high now.

Gathering his resolve, Kano stepped inside. The hut's main space was cramped, lanternlight dancing over walls of woven reed. Marro sat at a battered table, scribbling on a parchment—the council's ledger for daily tasks, though tonight it seemed to hold little meaning. He looked up, eyes shadowed.

"Father…" Kano set down the bundle of food. "I need to see Brannis again. Before the council arrives in the morning."

Marro's grip tightened around the quill. "He's resting," he said. "And you should be too, if you know what's good for you."

"I can't," Kano insisted, words tumbling out in a rush. "There has to be something he can tell us—something we can use to convince the council that driving him away is a mistake. If we let him go, we'll be blind to what's out there. And if Stormrune truly fell…" He swallowed, feeling that same crushing sense of destiny bloom in his chest. "You've seen the trouble the council has with pirates and raiders. What if this is worse?"

Marro rose from his chair, the muscles in his jaw working. He glanced at Reina, who lingered by the doorway, concern etched into her features. Finally, he sighed. "I don't like it," he confessed. "But you're right about one thing: we're all in the dark. Maybe there's something he can say—some proof."

Kano's breath caught. He gave a nod of gratitude, suddenly aware of how rare it was for his father to concede a point. "Thank you."

Wasting no time, he scooped up the bundle again and slipped out into the night. Marro followed, still visibly torn, while Reina took up the rear, her shawl trailing in the faint light. They crossed the boardwalk toward the makeshift shelter where Brannis recovered. A damp wind scuttled in off the sea, laced with the tang of salt and foreboding.

When they reached the lean-to, Kano paused, heart pounding. His entire life had been defined by hardship—carrying a tarnished Name in a world that revered unbroken legacies. Yet in this moment, faced with the knowledge of a looming threat that could swallow Coral Spit, he felt something else stirring: resolve.

Stepping inside, he knelt at Brannis's side. The soldier dozed fitfully, bandaged chest rising and falling with uneven breath. Kano placed a hand on the man's shoulder, gently rousing him. A soft groan escaped Brannis's lips as his eyes opened, disoriented at first, then sharpening with recognition.

"I need the truth," Kano said quietly, voice trembling with urgency. "All of it. And if there's a sign—something I can show the council so they'll listen—tell me now."

In the meager lantern glow, Marro and Reina hovered by the doorway, both tense and silent. Brannis blinked, pain clear in his eyes. Then he nodded, as though acknowledging an unspoken pact.

"There is a sign," he managed, breath hitching. "I have something… from Stormrune's archives. It proves who we fought—and what they've done to the dragons."

Kano's heart soared and plummeted all at once. If that proof existed, perhaps they could sway the council to see reason. But it meant venturing down a path of danger, one that might make the Sea-Glass family enemies of the very people who allowed them to survive.

Still, one thought rose above the rest—Stormrune was gone, and if they didn't heed its warning, Coral Spit might soon share its fate.

A chill breeze pressed through the gaps in the lean-to, swirling the lantern flame until it danced across the rough walls. Kano hovered at Brannis's side, heart pounding. Reina and Marro stood behind him, their tense silhouettes framed by the meager light.

Brannis's voice came in halting gasps. "I brought…a record. Names, details of the siege…and the dragons they enslaved. It's in a…a sealed case. I had it with me on the boat."

Kano glanced around the cramped shelter, his mind racing. "Your dinghy was barely afloat when you came in. If the case went overboard—"

"It's…still there," Brannis insisted, bracing himself on an elbow. Though his face gleamed with sweat, his gaze was fierce. "I'd hidden it under the prow. Hopefully it's intact."

Marro let out a slow, shaky breath. "Where's this boat now?"

"Beached on the far side of the docks," Kano said, remembering the spot where he'd first spotted Brannis drifting in. The village fishermen likely towed the dinghy to shore but never bothered to inspect it too closely. After all, they wanted nothing more than to be rid of reminders of Stormrune.

Reina gripped the shawl at her throat. "If the council sees us rummaging through that boat, it'll raise more suspicion," she whispered. "They already think we're hiding something."

"We are," Marro said grimly, but his gaze flicked from Brannis's bandaged form to Kano, torn between fear and the faintest spark of resolve. "If we do nothing, tomorrow they'll send Brannis away—and all he's told us will vanish with him."

Kano swallowed the knot in his throat, mind thrumming with possibilities. The idea of sneaking through the docks at night to recover some hidden relic—some tangible proof of Stormrune's downfall—set his nerves on edge. Yet the urgency in Brannis's eyes, and the restless churn of images in Kano's own mind, drove him forward.

He squared his shoulders. "I'll go," he said. "Tonight. If the council's coming in the morning, this is our only chance."

Silence fell, broken only by the hiss of wind. Reina exchanged a long, worried look with Marro, then nodded. "I'll stay here with Brannis," she said softly. "Your father will go with you."

Kano's eyes darted to Marro. It wasn't often his father took risks—Marro had spent a lifetime trying to keep their family's tarnished name out of trouble. Still, the older man gave a stiff nod, jaw set. "We need to do this. If there's proof, we'll show it to the council before they cart him away."

A fit of coughing seized Brannis then, and Kano knelt to help steady him. "Bring the case," Brannis rasped. "It's…a metal scroll-tube. Sealed with the Stormrune crest. They'll have to believe you if you show them that."

Kano's chest tightened at the mention of the crest—a swirl of a dragon's head and crescent wave, the same symbol haunting his dreams. "We'll find it," he promised, voice hushed but resolute.

Marro gently squeezed Brannis's shoulder, then met Reina's eyes. "Keep watch here. If the council or any villagers come by, stall them."

Reina dipped her head in agreement, her expression resolute despite the flicker of fear behind her gaze. Kano stood and took a lantern from its hook, the faint glow revealing the lean planes of his face. He felt every bit the thin, underfed fisher boy—but he held the lantern like a torch lighting a new path.

Quietly, he and Marro slipped out into the hush of Coral Spit's night. Clouds obscured the moon, painting the stilted huts and walkways in shifting shadows. The village felt eerily deserted at this hour; only the occasional flicker of lamplight showed where a few insomniacs or late-shift watchmen might still roam.

They stuck to the edges of the boardwalk, moving soundlessly as they headed for the far docks. Now and then, a dog barked from behind a hut, or the wind rattled a loose shutter, and Kano's heart would seize. But they encountered no one—only the endless murmur of the sea.

When they reached the stretch of rocky shoreline where Brannis's dinghy had been pulled up, Kano extinguished the lantern flame, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. The outline of the small boat sat half-tilted on the sand, wedged above the tide line by driftwood planks. Kano and Marro exchanged a nod, then crept closer.

Marro pulled aside some debris while Kano ran his hands under the dinghy's prow. His pulse hammered in his ears. Brannis had said the scroll-tube was hidden there—would it still be intact, or had it slipped away into the sea?

His fingers brushed something cold and metallic. With a jolt of excitement, he gripped what felt like a cylinder, slick with algae and silt. He eased it free, heart pounding so loudly he feared it would wake the whole village.

He held it up for Marro to see—an iron tube, about the length of his forearm, sealed at both ends with wax. A faint crest, battered and salt-worn, was visible along the side: Stormrune's emblem. Even in the darkness, Kano recognized the swirl of the dragon's head, the very motif that plagued his nightmares.

Marro let out a breath of relief. "We have it."

Kano felt a tremor in his chest—a swirl of triumph and dread. This was real. Whatever lay inside might confirm the nightmares and warn Coral Spit of a threat far beyond any pirate raid. But it also meant the council might brand them traitors for meddling, or blame them for stirring fear.

He carefully tucked the cylinder against his side, wrapping it in a scrap of burlap to dampen the metallic clank. "Let's go," he whispered. "We'll bring it to Brannis, see what it says."

Marro nodded, but just as they turned to leave, a flicker of torchlight glinted at the end of the beach. They froze. A bulky shape moved along the shoreline—a watchman on his nightly patrol. If he spotted them with this artifact…

Kano's heart lurched into his throat. He and Marro dropped low behind the dinghy. The watchman's steps crunched closer on the wet sand. Kano clutched the scroll-tube, every muscle taut. If they were discovered now, everything would unravel.

Time stretched painfully as the torchlight bobbed, prowling near the line of driftwood. A single cough or misstep could bring the watchman right to them. Silently, Marro pointed to a narrow gap between rocks leading back into the shadows of the village. Kano nodded, gripping the scroll-tube like a lifeline.

They crept away, hearts pounding in unison, the hush of Coral Spit's night pressing down on them like a warning. And in Kano's mind, one thought burned bright: Stormrune's proof was now in his hands, and with it, a spark that could change everything—if they survived to show it.

They slipped between rows of stilted huts, hearts racing. Even with the scroll-tube hidden under a length of burlap, Kano felt its weight like an ember pressed against his side. The thought of the watchman's flickering torch, just moments away from exposing them, made his pulse pound in his ears.

Beside him, Marro moved with silent efficiency, pausing every so often to scan the boardwalk for any sign of patrols. The moon was fully shrouded now, the village cloaked in deep shadows. They navigated by memory and the faint gleam of lanterns leaking through cracks in hut walls.

At last, they reached the small lean-to that sheltered Brannis. Kano exhaled in relief at the sight of his mother, Reina, waiting anxiously by the entrance. She waved them inside, and they ducked beneath the low roof.

Lanternlight flickered over the cramped space, revealing Brannis propped against makeshift pillows. Though his face was still sheened with fever, he appeared more alert than before. When Kano and Marro entered, the soldier's eyes locked on the burlap bundle in Kano's arms.

"You found it," Brannis rasped, a faint note of relief coloring his voice.

Kano nodded, carefully unwrapping the cloth until the iron scroll-tube lay exposed. The Stormrune crest—marred by salt and rust—caught the light. A swirl of conflicting emotions rushed through Kano. The symbol felt both foreign and eerily familiar, tugging at the pit of his stomach.

Marro set a lantern on a low stool, then helped Brannis ease upright. Reina hovered near the doorway, keeping watch. Her face was drawn, as though anticipating trouble at any moment.

Brannis extended a shaking hand. "Let me see…"

Kano passed the scroll-tube into his grip. Immediately, Brannis's fingers tightened, his jaw clenching as if to steady himself for what was inside. The sealed ends were caked in wax, and water stains marred the metal, but the crest remained somewhat intact—a testament, perhaps, to the resilience of the House it once represented.

He placed the tube against his lap and fumbled with the wax seal until it cracked. From within, he withdrew several tightly rolled parchments, their edges crinkled with moisture. Kano leaned in, heart pounding, as Brannis carefully peeled back the first layer.

Scrawled across the parchment were columns of names, some with annotations in cramped handwriting:

Tariq Stormrune (Lord) – Deceased in the siegeElys Caravel (Captain) – Status unknownLeviathan Drake (Blackspine) – Captured by enemy forcesCragback Platoon – Missing

Kano's eyes skimmed the list, mind reeling. He recognized none of the people mentioned, yet many of these notes triggered a queasy sense of déjà vu. Flashes of his nightmares flickered behind his eyelids—dragons roaring, walls crumbling, a fortress braced against unstoppable siege engines.

Marro let out a low whistle. "Names, details of the fallen… This is—"

"It's an official record," Brannis said weakly, "compiled in the final days before Stormrune Keep collapsed. We tried to document everything we could—troop positions, casualties, the dragons left… And there's a section on the forces that attacked us. We believed…someone was empowering them, harnessing dragons with a twisted Name-based magic."

He carefully unrolled a second parchment, revealing sketched symbols and diagrams. Kano leaned in, breath catching at the sight of a stylized mark repeated several times: an insignia shaped like a shackled dragon wing intertwined with thorny vines.

"This is the enemy's crest," Brannis explained, voice turning grim. "Led by a warlord who calls himself Valrakan, rumored to have allied with Name-breakers—people who know how to corrupt essence. They can shatter a dragon's will."

Marro's expression darkened. "They enslave dragons…" he echoed, voice trembling between anger and fear. "How can that even be possible?"

In Kano's mind, half-formed memories fluttered. He pictured the towering silhouette of a monstrous drake, its eyes vacant and white, bound in spiked chains. The breath seized in his throat.

Brannis pressed a shaky hand to his forehead. "We have accounts from survivors who saw it firsthand—dragons turned into weapons with no free will. That's how Stormrune Keep fell so quickly. We couldn't fight them all at once."

Silence ensued, broken only by the distant crash of surf. Reina, still at the doorway, finally spoke. "And the council… They won't believe this without proof. But if we show them these records, they might think we're simply trying to spread panic."

"We have no choice," Marro muttered, rubbing his brow. "If we hide this, we condemn ourselves to ignorance. If we reveal it, they may call us fearmongers." His eyes flicked to Brannis. "Is there anything else? Anything that makes your story undeniable?"

Brannis hesitated, then pointed to the top of the second parchment. There, an official seal marked the testimony as sworn by House Stormrune itself—complete with the personal crest of Tariq Stormrune. "Your council can't ignore the official seal of an old, honored Name," Brannis said. "If they have any regard for ancient lineages, they'll recognize Stormrune's authority."

At that, Kano felt an odd stirring in his chest—the same echo of Tariq Stormrune. The name seemed to pulse in the space between them, recalling a lineage that once carried immense power. Was that power alive within him now, in some inexplicable way?

He swallowed hard. "Then we'll show them," he said, voice quavering with determination. "First thing in the morning. We'll meet the council before they can force you away."

Marro and Reina shared a worried glance, but neither objected. Brannis managed a faint nod, hands clutching the scroll as though it were a lifeline.

A sudden rustling outside made Reina stiffen. She signaled for silence, blowing out the lantern. Instantly, the hut plunged into near-darkness. Kano held his breath. Footsteps clacked on the boardwalk—maybe villagers, maybe a patrol. He heard mumbled voices, too distant to make out the words, but the tone suggested tension.

They waited, hearts hammering, until the voices faded. Reina gently lifted the curtain at the doorway, peering out. After a moment, she exhaled. "They've gone."

Brannis groaned, sagging back against his bedding as exhaustion seized him. Marro relit the lantern with a trembling hand, revealing the soldier's pale features. Worry etched across everyone's faces. If a watchman or council loyalist stumbled on these parchments, the consequences would be dire.

"We'll hide them," Kano said quietly. "Then tomorrow, we'll present them together. Let them see the truth."

Reina's eyes flicked to Marro, who nodded, mouth set. "We'll protect Brannis until then," he said. "No matter what."

They all understood: by morning, either the council would take Brannis away, or the Sea-Glass family would stand in open defiance, bearing a truth that could reshape Coral Spit's fate. For Kano, there was no turning back. The tangled visions of Stormrune, the catastrophic siege, and the faint whisper of Tariq Stormrune weighed too heavily on his soul to ignore.

And so, the final hours of night stretched before them, charged with anticipation. Clutching the parchments to his chest, Kano felt as though he held the key to a destiny far larger than any life he'd known. Perhaps the power of an ancient Name still pulsed in the darkness—reaching out to anyone willing to carry the flame.