Semua Bab THE BASTARD SON OF THE VIKINGS : Bab 21 - Bab 30

THE CITY TESTES THE BASTARD SON “Say his name again.”The words fell softly, almost bored, yet they froze the room harder than a gunshot.The man’s knees trembled as he stared up from the marble floor. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, dripping in slow red dots between his shaking hands.“I didn’t mean disrespect,” he stammered. “I only said the city remembers Guerrero Valenti.”The hall went deathly quiet.Lucia Romano reclined in her chair like a queen carved from stone. Her fingers tapped against the armrest in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Beside her, Vanguard leaned casually, arms folded, eyes cold, unreadable.“Memory,” Vanguard said calmly, “is a dangerous habit.”The man swallowed hard. “He ruled Palermo for years. People still whisper. They think he might—”The blade flashed.No warning.No hesitation.Vanguard’s arm moved once.The man’s throat opened mid word. Blood sprayed hot and sudden across the floor, streaking the marble. He collapsed without a sound, hands cla

Dawn reached Palermo like an unwanted witness.The city did not wake loudly. It stirred in fragments. A door creaked open and shut again. A cart rolled, then stopped. Somewhere a bell rang once and died.Lucia’s son tightened the strap across his chest and checked his blade for the third time.Enzo stood by the door, unmoving.“You leave before the sun,” Enzo said. “Like someone who knows he won’t be welcomed back.”Lucia’s son did not look at him. “I leave before they can stop me.”“They already want you dead.”Lucia’s son smirked faintly. “Then I’m late.”Enzo stepped forward. “Say it clearly. Say you’re afraid.”Lucia’s son finally turned. His eyes were steady. Too steady.“I’m angry,” he said. “Fear would be easier.”Enzo exhaled slowly. “Once you cross that gate, there’s no mother. No walls. No name protecting you.”Lucia’s son adjusted his glove. “The name has been a curse longer than it was protection.”Enzo’s jaw tightened. “You think she chose him over you.”“She didn’t choos

The news arrived at dawn, carried by a boy who could barely stand.He collapsed at the edge of the fire, knees hitting dirt, breath tearing out of his chest in sharp, panicked pulls.“They’re dead,” the boy gasped. “The road village. Burned. Men, women. No questions asked.”Lucia’s son did not move.The men around the fire waited. No one spoke. Even the wind seemed to hesitate.“Who?” Lucia’s son asked.The boy swallowed hard. “Vanguard’s colors. No masks. They wanted witnesses.”Silence pressed down harder than sound.Lucia’s son slowly rose to his feet.“Where?” he asked.“South road,” the boy replied quickly. “The place with the olive stones. They said it was punishment.”Lucia’s son nodded once. Calm. Too calm.“Drink,” he told the boy. “Then leave.”The boy hesitated. “They said more would follow. They said Palermo does not negotiate with shadows.”Lucia’s son finally looked at him.“Palermo just did,” he said.The boy fled.The men around the fire shifted uneasily.One spoke. “T

BLOOD DOES NOT ASK PERMISSIONNight fell without ceremony.No stars. No moon worth trusting. Just a low sky pressed close to the earth, heavy with smoke from villages that no longer slept peacefully.Lucia’s son stood at the edge of the clearing, firelight licking at his boots, listening to the silence that came before violence. He had learned to recognize it. Silence that was too clean. Too deliberate.Enzo broke it.“You should move,” Enzo said, voice low. “They are not sending scouts anymore.”Lucia’s son did not turn. “I know.”“They burned Caltaro today.”Lucia’s jaw tightened. “I know that too.”“They left the bodies where children could see them.”Lucia’s son finally faced him. “Say what you came to say.”Enzo held his gaze. “This ends with you standing still or standing tall. There is no hiding left.”Lucia’s son looked past him, toward the road. “Then stop asking me to disappear.”A sound cut through the night. Hooves. Not fast. Controlled.Enzo’s hand went to his blade. “The

At the outskirts, firelight cut through fog.Lucia’s son stood among them, not elevated, not crowned. Just present.Men waited. Watching him. Waiting for direction.Enzo leaned against a cart, arm bound, eyes fierce. “You should not have come this close.”“They came to us first,” Lucia’s son replied.A man stepped forward. Broad shouldered, scarred. “Palermo will not open its gates.”Lucia’s son nodded. “I expected that.”Another spoke. “They say Vanguard rules beside your mother.”A murmur rippled.Lucia’s son raised a hand.Silence obeyed.“Palermo belongs to those who protect it,” he said. “Not those who claim it.”“What do we do,” someone asked.Lucia’s son looked toward the city lights. “We wait.”“For what?”“For them to make a mistake.”---Inside the council hall, voices rose.“Guerrero Valenti’s blood has returned,” one man argued.“He is illegitimate,” another spat. “A weapon smith playing king.”“A weapon smith with villages behind him,” a third countered.Lucia sat at the