The Velbrath Gazette was the largest publication in the kingdom. It reached nobles, merchants, and even the royal court. And today, it carried a headline that shook the nation.
"A Hero's Lie: How Viscount Ragnis Stole His Glory"
The article, written in crisp, damning detail, exposed everything. The bribed guards, the fabricated battle, and the true warrior who had been silenced. Ryle's meticulous research and Kael's firsthand testimony left no room for doubt.
By midday, the town erupted in protest.
Crowds gathered in the streets, voices raised in outrage. The people who once cheered for Ragnis now spat his name with disgust. Shopkeepers took down his banners. The local guilds withdrew their support. Even the noble circles began whispering—a hero caught in deception was worse than a coward.
But the real blow came from the royal court.
It didn't take long for the king's officials to act. By evening, a royal decree was issued:
Viscount Ragnis was stripped of his title and wealth.
His lands were seized, his allies abandoned him, and the once-proud noble was reduced to a fugitive, desperate to escape.
But he never made it far.
At the city gates, his own former allies turned on him. The very men who once stood beside him delivered him to the authorities.
"For fraud, corruption, and crimes against the crown," the guards declared, "you are under arrest."
Ragnis's screams of protest were drowned out by the cheers of the people.
Ryle watched from a rooftop, arms crossed. He had seen this pattern before. Nobles who thought they were untouchable always crumbled under the weight of truth.
This was only the beginning.
Because somewhere, bigger players were watching.
Ryle had planned to leave Velbrath that night. His work here was done, and he never lingered in one place too long. But as he packed his notes at the inn, the messenger arrived.
A formal letter, sealed in dark red wax.
The emblem pressed into it made his breath still.
The crest of Marquis Elden.
His hands tensed around the parchment. The man who killed Ignilth.
For a long moment, Ryle simply stared at the letter.
Then, carefully, he broke the seal and read the words inside:
"You have quite the sharp pen. Join me for dinner. Let's talk."
No threats. No accusations. Just a simple, polite invitation.
Ryle exhaled slowly, a mixture of emotions swirling within him.
Did Elden recognize him as the boy from the mountains?
Or was this just a move to silence him before he dug too deep?
Either way, it didn't matter.
Ryle folded the letter, slipping it into his coat. His path was clear.
The next evening, Ryle stood outside a grand mansion, its towering gates flanked by armored guards. The warm glow of chandeliers spilled from the tall windows, the laughter of nobles echoing faintly from within.
He tightened his fist, feeling the weight of the past press against his ribs.
This was no ordinary meeting.
This was the first step toward uncovering the truth.
And he would not turn back now.