"I am Jakubaldo of Catarina. I will certainly honor our agreement. Even if I die, my descendants and my corpse will fulfill my promise in my place."
He left with his sword, never looking back. If he wished to keep his word, then the one bearing that agreement could not be tainted by the Profaned Flame.
Meanwhile, on the other side, the leader of the nobles recoiled from this responsibility and merely threw the sword at the Giant's feet.
"You are our king. How could your subjects ever raise their blades against you?" the noble said slyly, intent only on making the Giant fulfill its promise.
Thus, the Giant foresaw its own fate.
It moved into the palace the nobles had built for it—a place that was less a residence than a prison, with an exit so narrow that the Giant could barely move through it. It placed Storm Ruler beside the throne, then set its shield in a corner. It knew that no one needed its protection anymore. All it had to do was fulfill its promise.
A promise. A promise was the burden of the Profaned Flame. The Cursed Flame from the abyss was suppressed by its will, yet the curse itself eroded its flesh and bones.
It became a king who had issued no decree and enjoyed not the slightest bit of power.
The cursed flames flowed through its shell, while it quietly waited on its lonely throne for the time it had left to pass.
One year, two years.
Five years, ten years.
The Giant endured the pain, its will continuously suppressing the flames.
Then, one day, the palace received a rare visitor. It was an envoy of the White Church, who, led by the nobles, invited Yhorm to take the throne of a Lord of