Return of the forgotten Hero

Episode5

Gathering Storm

The night air was thick with tension as they moved through the twisting alleyways of the capital. The meeting with General Veylan had been the first step, but it was only the beginning. Lirien walked beside him, her sharp eyes scanning the dimly lit streets for any sign of trouble.

"Veylan's information is a start, but we need more than an old soldier’s word," she murmured. "If we are to truly challenge Aldric, we need undeniable proof. And we need more allies."

He nodded, the weight of the task ahead pressing against his shoulders. "The council buried the truth, but they couldn't erase every record. Somewhere, there must be something—documents, testimonies, anything that proves my identity and Aldric’s betrayal."

Lirien’s lips curled into a smirk. "I may know just the place."

---

The Grand Archives of the capital were a fortress of knowledge, its ancient tomes and scrolls holding the history of the kingdom. Under normal circumstances, entry required permission from the royal court, but Lirien had other means.

Dressed as a scholar, she led the way through the grand hall, her forged credentials convincing the gatekeepers with practiced ease. He followed closely, his hood pulled low. The air inside smelled of parchment and ink, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows against the marble walls.

"The restricted section is heavily guarded," she whispered as they navigated through the shelves. "The records of the war, the council’s decisions, anything that could prove your claim—it will be there."

He exhaled slowly. "Then let’s find it."

They moved with purpose, scanning the archives until they reached a locked chamber guarded by two royal sentinels. Lirien glanced at him, then at the narrow corridors leading away from the guards.

"A distraction?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'll handle it."

Stepping forward, he kept his movements subtle. A flick of his wrist sent a small dagger clattering down the far corridor. The guards snapped to attention, exchanging a glance before one moved to investigate. The remaining guard shifted uneasily, his hand hovering over his sword.

Lirien took her chance. Slipping behind him like a shadow, she pressed a blade to his throat and whispered, "Make a sound, and you die."

The guard stiffened, his eyes wide with fear. With practiced efficiency, she relieved him of his key and eased him onto the ground, unconscious. The second guard had barely turned the corner before they slipped inside the chamber.

Rows of scrolls lined the walls, bound volumes stacked neatly upon high shelves. He wasted no time, scanning the titles until one caught his eye—"The Fallen Prince."

His breath hitched as he pulled it from the shelf, unrolling the parchment with trembling fingers. It was an official decree, signed by the council, declaring his death and Aldric’s rise. But at the bottom, beneath the official seal, a list of names was scribbled in hurried ink.

"These are the ones who knew the truth," he whispered. "Witnesses. Those who stood against the lie."

Lirien peered over his shoulder. "And most of them are dead. Except…" She pointed to a name near the bottom. "Sir Rhovan."

He clenched his fists. "He was my father’s closest advisor. If he’s still alive, he may hold the key to undoing this deception."

A sudden noise from outside the chamber snapped them to attention. The guard had returned, and from the sound of approaching footsteps, he had brought reinforcements.

"Time to go," Lirien muttered.

Tucking the parchment into his cloak, he led the way to a back exit, slipping into the night just as the guards burst into the chamber behind them. The city was still alive, oblivious to the storm brewing in its heart.

---

Finding Sir Rhovan was not easy. He had vanished from public life after the coup, disappearing into obscurity. But through whispered rumors and hidden trails, they tracked him to the outskirts of the kingdom, where an old monastery stood against the cliffs.

The night was bitterly cold as they approached, the sound of waves crashing below echoing in the wind. An old man knelt in the garden, tending to the soil with slow, deliberate movements. His once-proud posture had withered with age, but the fire in his eyes remained as he turned to face them.

"I was wondering when you would come," Rhovan murmured, his voice heavy with time.

He stepped forward. "You knew I was alive?"

Rhovan chuckled softly. "A man does not simply vanish without a trace. I knew they would not kill you outright. It was too risky."

He handed the old man the parchment from the archives. "You’re the last name on this list. The last one who can prove the truth."

Rhovan’s hands trembled as he read the names, a flicker of sorrow passing over his face. "They silenced the rest. I barely escaped with my life. But yes… I have proof. And if you are truly ready to reclaim your throne, you will need it."

Lirien crossed her arms. "Then let’s stop wasting time."

The old knight’s gaze sharpened. "If you are to win this fight, you need more than proof. You need an army. And I know where to find one."

He met Rhovan’s eyes, his pulse quickening. "Then tell me."

Rhovan smiled, a dangerous gleam in his gaze. "The exiled legions still remember their true king. It is time to bring them home."

---

As they left the monastery, a new determination settled in his chest. The war had begun, and he would not fight it alone.

Aldric’s stolen thr

one would soon be his once more.

And this time, no one would forget his name.