Chapter 43: THE BROKEN TABLE
The Royal Conference Chamber felt smaller with four chairs instead of five.
Mirellia had reconfigured the seating since our last council session — Heroes on one side, her advisors on the other, the empty space between them reduced to conversational distance rather than ceremonial void. A practical change that suggested she expected actual discussion rather than posturing.
I settled into my assigned seat, acutely aware of the strategic positioning. Ren to my left, his analytical gaze already cataloguing the room's occupants. Motoyasu to my right, fidgeting with his spear in a way that suggested uncertainty rather than aggression. Itsuki at the far end, posture rigid with the specific tension of someone who expected to be attacked.
Outside the chamber, Rishia waited with Raphtalia and Filo. I'd thought about bringing her into the meeting — letting Itsuki see exactly who he'd thrown away — but decided against it. The confrontation needed to happen, but not as a spectacle.
"The Four Heroes Council is in session." Mirellia's voice carried the practiced authority of someone who'd spent decades commanding attention. "Our agenda: strategic response to escalating Wave threats, coordination protocols, and resource allocation."
She outlined the situation with the efficiency I'd come to expect from her. Wave frequency increasing. Glass confirmed as an other-world threat with capabilities that exceeded normal parameters. Geological disturbances in the northeast that her scholars couldn't explain but suspected were related to the dimensional instability the Waves created.
"The kingdom requires coordinated Hero response," she concluded. "Individual operations are insufficient against threats of this magnitude."
"Agreed." Ren's voice was flat, neutral, revealing nothing. "The Cal Mira Wave demonstrated that our independent approaches are vulnerable to exploitation. Combined operations would reduce that vulnerability."
"I'm... willing to discuss coordination." Motoyasu spoke hesitantly, his usual confidence absent. Without Malty whispering strategies in his ear, he seemed genuinely uncertain about how to position himself. "The Shield Hero's compounds were useful during the Pope battle. Sharing resources makes sense."
Through Truth Resonance, I heard the sincerity in both statements — no deception, no hidden agendas. Two Heroes actually willing to cooperate.
But Itsuki remained silent.
"Bow Hero?" Mirellia prompted. "Your thoughts on coordination?"
"I'll coordinate on battlefield tactics when necessary." His voice was clipped, defensive. "But my party composition and training methods are my own concern."
There it was. The opening I needed.
"Speaking of party composition." I kept my tone neutral, analytical. "I understand you recently made changes to your roster."
Itsuki's posture stiffened further. "That's not relevant to this discussion."
"A Hero dismissing party members affects overall combat capability. If we're coordinating resources, we should understand each team's current status."
"My team is fine." Through Truth Resonance, the lie rang clear — not in the words themselves, but in the defensive undertone. "One underperformer was removed. Standard optimization."
"Underperformer." I let the word hang. "The girl you expelled — Rishia Ivyred. You accused her of stealing party funds."
"She was—"
"Did she steal the funds?"
Silence.
Ren's attention sharpened. Motoyasu shifted uncomfortably. Mirellia watched with the focused interest of a monarch cataloguing useful information.
"The charges were sufficient for dismissal." Itsuki's voice had gone cold. "Her contribution didn't justify her presence."
Through Truth Resonance, I heard the falseness of his justification. Not outright lies — he'd convinced himself the decision was rational — but the underlying truth was different. He'd expelled her because her devotion made him uncomfortable. Because her worship revealed something about his character he didn't want to examine.
"She tried to kill herself," I said quietly. "After you dismissed her. Walked to a cliff and would have jumped if soldiers hadn't intervened."
The room went silent.
Itsuki's expression flickered — surprise, then defensiveness, then something that might have been guilt before being suppressed. "That's not my responsibility. I'm not accountable for what she did after leaving my party."
"You're accountable for creating the conditions that drove her to it." I met his eyes directly. "False accusations. Public humiliation. Abandonment by someone she'd devoted herself to completely."
"I didn't falsely—"
"Did she steal the funds? Yes or no."
"I had concerns about—"
"Yes or no."
Itsuki stood abruptly, his chair scraping against stone. "I don't answer to you, Shield Hero. My party, my decisions. If you want to collect broken people, that's your business. Don't pretend it makes you morally superior."
He walked out without looking back.
The silence that followed was heavy with implications.
"Well." Mirellia's voice was carefully neutral. "That complicates coordination significantly."
"He'll come around eventually." Motoyasu spoke without conviction. "He just needs time to... adjust."
Through Truth Resonance, I heard that he didn't believe his own words.
Ren stayed seated after Mirellia concluded the session, watching Motoyasu leave with an expression that suggested he was filing away observations for later analysis. When we were alone, he produced a notebook from his jacket — leather-bound, well-worn, filled with small precise handwriting.
"Shield Hero. Before you go."
He placed the notebook on the table between us.
"I've been tracking patterns since the summoning. Your behavior specifically. The correlation between your preparations and subsequent outcomes." He opened to a marked page. "Your accuracy rate on predictions is 94 percent."
The number hit like a physical blow.
"You knew about Malty's interference before she acted. You prepared for the Wave boss behavior before it demonstrated those patterns. You identified L'Arc and Therese before they revealed themselves." He turned more pages. "You anticipated the Pope's Weapon Replica capabilities. You predicted this council would fail to achieve full cooperation because of Itsuki's pride."
"Pattern recognition—"
"Is not this precise." He closed the notebook. "I'm not asking for an explanation today. I'm telling you I have the data. Whatever you are, whatever you know, the numbers don't lie."
He stood.
"When you're ready to explain, I'll listen. Until then, I'll keep watching."
He left.
I sat alone in the empty chamber, the weight of Ren's dossier pressing against my thoughts like a second shield — heavier, with sharper edges.
Rishia was waiting outside the chamber, standing beside Raphtalia with a posture that had changed since I'd last seen her. Still fragile, still uncertain, but no longer collapsed into herself.
"Jiro-sama." Her voice was quiet. "How did the council go?"
"Mixed results. Two Heroes willing to coordinate. One hostile."
"Lord Itsuki refused to discuss..." She trailed off, unable to finish the question.
"He did."
I expected tears. Collapse. The specific grief of having your worthlessness confirmed by the person who had declared it.
Instead, she straightened her spine.
"When does training start?"
Through Truth Resonance, I heard the genuine determination underneath her question. Not confidence — that would take time to rebuild — but the decision to move forward rather than drown in what had been.
"Tomorrow. Early."
"I'll be ready."
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