False hero

The kingdom of Alarion was once a beacon of strength and unity. Its towers of stone stood tall, casting long shadows over the plains below, a testament to its unshakeable power. But now, those same towers felt like prisons to those who knew the truth. The kingdom had rotted from within, and those in power chose to blind themselves to the festering corruption.

After Reimer's supposed death, the story had quickly spread. But it wasn't his name that echoed through the streets and taverns. No, the name that was spoken in hushed tones and shouted in praise was that of Rendell.

He stood in the royal hall, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun as the courtiers and noblemen showered him with praise. His chest was adorned with a gleaming medal, a mark of his supposed valor. They called him a hero, the man who had saved them all from the horrors of the demon threat and quelled the uprising that had been brewing for months.

None of them knew the truth. None of them knew what had really happened. 

He had orchestrated it all—betraying Reimer, turning the knights against Elaine, and ensuring that anyone who could challenge his newfound power was either dead or silenced. His lies had become the foundation upon which his rise to prominence was built. And the kingdom, hungry for a hero, had swallowed those lies whole.

The King himself stood before the court, holding up the traitor's hand, declaring him the savior of Alarion. His voice boomed through the great hall, filled with pride and admiration. "This man, Rendell , is the reason we stand strong today! Without his courage, without his wisdom, we would have been consumed by darkness."

The crowd roared in approval, their cheers echoing through the halls. To them, he was a symbol of hope, a man who had led them through the worst of times. But to those who knew the truth, it was nothing more than a bitter reminder of how far the kingdom had fallen.

Beneath the praise and adoration,Rendell wore a mask of humble gratitude, but his eyes glinted with something darker—something that spoke of his ambitions yet to be fulfilled. He had everything he wanted, the power, the title, the influence. But he wasn't finished. The betrayal of Reimer was just the beginning.

As he gazed over the room, his thoughts lingered on the path that had led him here. It had been so easy. Reimer had been the perfect pawn—trusted, strong, and far too naïve for his own good. It hadn't taken much to turn the others against him, to convince them that Reimer was a threat, an enemy in disguise. The demon attack had been the perfect opportunity to execute his plan.

Now, with Reimer out of the picture, there was no one left to stand in his way.

But not everyone in the kingdom was so easily fooled. There were whispers in the streets, murmurs of unease from those who had seen the aftermath of Reimer's supposed death and sensed that something wasn't right. Some questioned how Rendell had survived when others had fallen. Others wondered why the hero's tale seemed to change each time it was told.

One such voice belonged to General France, a seasoned warrior who had served the kingdom for decades. He had been present during the battle, had seen Reimer's strength firsthand. And something about the way Rendell was being lauded didn't sit well with him.

He stood at the back of the hall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he watched the celebrations unfold. His eyes narrowed as he studied Rendell, watching the way he soaked in the adulation, the way his smile never quite reached his eyes.

"There's more to this story than they're telling us," the General muttered under his breath.

Beside him, Captain Cain, one of his most trusted men, frowned. "What do you mean, sir?"

The General's voice was low, cautious. "I knew Reimer. He wasn't the kind of man to fall so easily. Something else happened that day, something we're not being told."

The Captain glanced around, his eyes darting to the nobles who were too busy reveling in the false hero's glory to notice their quiet conversation. "Do you think he had something to do with it?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The General didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze lingered on Rendell, who now stood beside the King, basking in his newfound fame.

"I don't know," the General finally said, his tone grim. "But I intend to find out."

---

Meanwhile, in the dark corners of the kingdom, those who had once been loyal to Reimer began to stir. They had been cast aside, labeled traitors themselves for questioning the official story, but they hadn't given up. They couldn't. They knew the truth—Reimer had been betrayed, and the man now being hailed as a hero was nothing more than a snake in the grass.

One of these loyalists, a young woman named Erica, moved through the alleyways of the capital, her heart heavy with grief and anger. She had served alongside Reimer, had seen his kindness, his strength. She had loved him, in her own way, and the sight of Rendell standing in the place Reimer should have occupied made her blood boil.

She wasn't alone. There were others like her—disillusioned knights, former comrades of Reimer, and even some within the nobility who had grown wary of Rendell's growing power. Together, they formed a quiet resistance, a hidden force biding their time, waiting for the right moment to strike.

As the kingdom continued to celebrate its false hero, the seeds of rebellion were being planted. The truth, buried beneath layers of lies and deceit, would not remain hidden forever.

And when it came to light, the kingdom would learn just how dangerous it was to build a hero out of treachery.