Nathaniel Ashcroft stood rigid before the tribunal, the weight of his actions in Greystone pressing upon him. The harsh stone walls of the chamber seemed to close in as the general’s cold gaze met his.

  “Captain Ashcroft,” General’s voice cut through the silence, stern and unyielding. “You failed your duty in Greystone. Explain yourself.”

  Nathaniel’s throat tightened. “There was no rebellion, only villagers trying to survive. I could not harm them.”

  General’s face tightened, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Your duty is not to question, but to obey. Leave your sword and uniform.”

  The words struck him harder than he expected, tearing away his rank, his place in the world. The weight of the decision hung over him like a heavy cloak. He left the hall, the cold stares of his peers following him as he walked away from the life he had known.

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  That night, Nathaniel wandered the empty streets of Port Albion, lost in thought. The faces of the villagers, the pain in their eyes, haunted him. Had he done the right thing? The governor’s mansion loomed in the distance, its windows aglow with laughter and light—a stark contrast to the suffering he had witnessed.

  As he passed through the streets, his fingers brushed the worn cover of On the Rights of Man in his coat pocket. All men are born free and equal in rights. The words burned in his soul. He had once been loyal to the crown, but now, that loyalty felt like a distant memory.

  By dawn, Nathaniel knew what he had to do. He packed his belongings and fled into the forest, evading patrols. His journey led him deeper into the woods, where, after days of wandering, he encountered Margaret once more. She was there, waiting for him, her eyes filled with quiet understanding.

  “I’ve seen enough,” Nathaniel said. “I want to fight for justice, not tyranny.”

  Margaret studied him, her expression unreadable. “Come with me,” she replied, and together they set off toward the rebel camp, leaving Nathaniel’s past behind.