Hero Of Broken History

[One Week Earlier - Veritas Compound]

Seren had prepared three different approaches for this conversation. She'd calculated probable responses, timed her explanations, even practiced her breathing to maintain composure. The Patriarch valued efficiency and competence above all else.

She knocked. Three precise raps, properly spaced.

"Enter."

Aedric Veritas didn't look up from his papers. Standard intimidation technique - she'd observed it before. Make the petitioner wait, wonder if they'd been forgotten or were being tested.

She counted breaths. Twelve before he acknowledged her.

"Miss Lyselle." Those eyes that saw too much finally focused on her. "Our junior historian. What brings you here during daylight hours?"

"Lord Patriarch. I wish to request my allotted research leave."

"Research leave." He set down his quill with deliberate precision. "And where does this research take you?"

"The capital. The Great Library has texts on pre-Empire combat techniques that our archives lack. Cross-referencing primary sources would strengthen my work on the Demon War timeline."

"Strengthen." He stood, moving to his window with measured steps. "Your work has already been quite... thorough. Even accessing areas typically reserved for senior researchers."

Careful. He suspects but doesn't know. Maintain composure.

"I endeavor to be comprehensive in my research, my lord."

"Comprehensive. Yes." He turned back, expression unreadable. "The capital holds many temptations for comprehensive researchers. Some of them dangerous."

"I'm only interested in historical truth, Lord Patriarch."

"Truth." The word seemed to amuse him. "A noble pursuit. Often a dangerous one. Approved. Three weeks. Try not to be too comprehensive in your investigations."

She bowed and left, parsing every word. Warning? Encouragement? Both? With the Patriarch, nothing was simple.

[Present Day - The Capital, Golden Griffin Hotel]

Two weeks until the third trial. Seren stood before the Golden Griffin, its opulence making her acutely aware of her modest traveling clothes. Three days on the road, two days building courage, and now the moment of truth.

The concierge assessed her with professional politeness. "May I help you?"

"Lord Avian Veritas. Please inform him that Seren Lyselle has historical documents relevant to his research."

The wait felt eternal. She reviewed her opening statement, checked her document order, resisted the urge to flee. Finally, a servant appeared to escort her.

The suite door opened to reveal Avian looking tired, training clothes suggesting interrupted exercise.

"Miss Lyselle?" Genuine surprise. "What brings you to the capital?"

"My apologies for arriving unannounced. I have... research findings that require private discussion."

Inside was controlled chaos - papers organized in deliberate piles, books arranged by subject, the detritus of serious research. While he arranged for tea, she tried not to stare at the spirit wolf lounging by the fireplace.

A spirit familiar? When did he acquire such a companion?

The wolf - lightning crackling occasionally through its fur - watched her with too-intelligent eyes before yawning and returning to its nap.

"Your research?" Avian prompted, settling across from her with tea.

"Yes." She pulled out her satchel, forcing her hands steady. "I've been investigating the Demon War timeline for months. What began as correcting minor inconsistencies became... something more significant."

She spread her papers with careful precision. "These are military dispatches. Contemporary to the events, unedited. They reference Commander D. extensively - leading human forces, saving villages, refusing noble titles. Here, Report 347 mentions his tactical brilliance. Report 384 praises his protection of supply lines."

Avian studied the documents, expression neutral. "Interesting historical documents."

"More than interesting. Look at Report 451." She pointed to her key evidence. "'Commander Dex has entered the Demon King's fortress alone.' Not as the Demon King. Fighting against him."

"Commander D. could refer to anyone—"

"The linguistic analysis disagrees. The syntax, word choice, even the specific profanity used - it matches across all reports. This is one person. Commander Dex." She leaned forward. "Who somehow transforms from humanity's hero to its greatest villain between Report 451 and 453. With Report 452 conveniently missing."

"Records go missing. Wars are chaotic."

"Not like this. Not the single most important moment in Imperial history." She pulled out her observation notes. "Lord Avian, your interest in this period exceeds academic curiosity. The questions you ask, the sources you seek... You're looking for something specific."

"Many people research the Demon War—"

"Not with your intensity. Not with your particular focus on combat techniques and personal accounts." She chose her words carefully. "I've also observed - purely for academic context - that your fighting style mirrors descriptions in these dispatches. 'Applied violence.' 'Brutal efficiency.' The correlation is... notable."

His expression remained controlled, but the spirit wolf's ears perked forward.

"Fighting styles can be similar—"

"This goes beyond similarity. It's identical in philosophy and execution." She gathered her courage. "I'm a historian. I deal in facts and evidence. But sometimes facts point toward conclusions that challenge accepted reality."

"What kind of conclusions?"

"The kind that suggest impossible things might be possible. About memory and souls and second chances." She met his eyes steadily. "I'm not making accusations. I'm simply noting that you seem to have knowledge about this period that conventional sources don't provide."

"These documents," he said after a long pause. "They're not publicly available."

Heat flooded her face. "I... accessed restricted archives. The truth seemed worth the risk."

"Truth often is." He studied the papers again. "What do you want from me, Miss Lyselle?"

"Guidance. You clearly understand aspects of this period that standard histories omit. I'm not asking you to reveal sources or confirm theories. Just... help me know where to look next."

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because I'm already trusting you. These documents could see me executed for theft and heresy. Because I came here alone, telling no one." She straightened. "Because whoever Commander Dex truly was, his real story deserves to be known."

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Something shifted in his expression. Pain or recognition or both.

"The Patriarch knows you're here," he said finally.

"I informed him I was traveling to the capital for research—"

"No, he knows you're here. In this room. Having this conversation." Avian moved to the window. "He'll have had you followed. Protected, officially. The family values its researchers."

"I don't understand."

"Think about it," Avian said. "You're the Veritas family's most promising junior historian, carrying research that could shake the Empire's foundations. You think my father would let you wander the capital unprotected?"

"But I don't see anyone—"

"You wouldn't. Family Ghosts are invisible to anyone they don't want to see them." He smiled slightly. "It's actually funny - I'm probably being followed too. Father does love his insurance policies."

"That's... unsettling."

"You get used to it. Though I did learn a neat trick with my mana fluctuations." He gestured vaguely at the air around them. "Creates interference patterns that make eavesdropping difficult. Lysander taught it to me - my combat instructor. She's professionally paranoid. Very useful for private conversations."

Before she could respond, the door burst open. Two young men entered mid-argument.

"—obviously a metaphor for transformation!" the one with golden hair was saying. "The protagonist doesn't literally become—" He stopped. "Oh! Apologies! Avian, you have a guest!"

"Miss Lyselle!" Kai's eyes widened in recognition. "From the compound! I didn't know you were in the capital."

"Lord Kai." She nodded, flustered by the sudden crowd. "I'm here on research."

"Seren is consulting on some historical matters," Avian said smoothly. "Seren, you've met Kai. This is Leontis."

"Historian?" Leontis perked up. "Like books and dusty papers and making the past make sense?"

"Something like that," she said.

"Excellent! The protagonist approves of chroniclers!" Leontis struck a dramatic pose. "Every legend needs someone to record the truth!"

She began gathering her papers. "I should go—"

"You should definitely stay," Kai interrupted. "Unfortunately, Avian has a talent for making enemies. Just this week we've annoyed death mancers, corrupt merchants, and probably some people we don't even know about yet. Walking back alone after dark would be... unwise."

"The family Ghosts would probably protect me—"

"Do you really want to test that theory? Or deal with the questions about why you needed protecting?" Kai flopped onto a couch. "Stay for dinner. We're having... what are we having?"

"Whatever costs most," Leontis declared. "The protagonist demands only the finest!"

"I couldn't impose—"

"You're not imposing," Avian said firmly. "Besides, we have a cipher that needs decoding. Historical expertise would be valuable."

He produced a scroll with encoded text. Her academic interest immediately engaged.

"Is that a late third-century substitution cipher? Oh, those are fascinating!" She caught herself. "All historians have to study old ciphers - documents from that era were often encoded. I may be a bit rusty, but I studied every cipher type I could find in the archives."

"Perfect," Avian said. "We need it decoded."

She took the scroll eagerly. "Give me an hour. Maybe two - it's been a while since I've worked with this variant."

As she worked, surrounded by animated discussion and periodic dramatic declarations from Leontis, Seren found herself oddly comfortable. These three were planning something dangerous - the mention of death mancers made that clear. But they accepted her expertise without condescension.

"Got it!" she exclaimed after an hour of work. "It's a meeting arrangement. Tomorrow night, the old Thornwick warehouse. Something about... specimen delivery?"

The three men exchanged significant looks.

"More death mancer business," Kai said quietly. "They're not very creative with their meeting spots."

"You mentioned death mancers earlier," Seren said slowly. "What exactly are you involved in?"

"The same thing you are, in a way," Avian said. "People who profit from buried truth. Just different methods. Some prefer documents and lies. Others prefer corpses and dark magic."

"I don't understand."

"The Black Mage Association has been operating for centuries. They're connected to the same lies you're uncovering, just from a different angle." He met her eyes. "If you're going to be our ally, you should know what you're getting into."

She clutched her papers, mind racing. "This is bigger than historical revision."

"Everything's connected. The lies about the Demon War, the current conspiracies, the death mancers hoarding secrets. Five hundred years of deception, all protecting something."

She looked at him for a long moment, then asked quietly: "Are you him? Are you somehow... connected to Commander Dex?"

"I'm Avian Veritas. Twelve years old. Recognized son of the Patriarch." Each word careful, precise. "But I'm also someone who believes the truth you've found needs to emerge. Carefully. With enough proof that it can't be denied or twisted."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer I can give right now." He held her gaze. "But I will help you find the evidence you need. Even the impossible evidence."

She nodded slowly. "Alright. Allies. But I want access to whatever you discover. The historical record must be complete."

"Agreed. But you follow our lead on dangerous situations."

"The protagonist welcomes our new chronicler!" Leontis declared.

Later, as they showed her to a guest room, she pulled Avian aside.

"The fighting style. The documents. Your reaction to them." Her voice was barely audible. "I know what logic suggests. And I know you won't confirm it. But... thank you. For caring about the truth."

After she retired, Kai whistled low. "So she thinks you're connected to this Commander Dex somehow?"

"She thinks I have unusual knowledge about the period." Avian moved to the window, watching the city lights. "Which isn't entirely wrong."

"Your fighting style really is that similar?"

"Apparently. Efficient combat is efficient combat." He shrugged. "My father's going to find this fascinating."

Kai moved closer, voice dropping. "You know, I'd forgotten you could do that. Act all proper and noble-like. When did you drop that mask around me?"

Avian glanced at him. "When did you stop being just a political investment?"

"Fair point." Kai grinned. "Guess that makes us friends then?"

"Don't push it," Avian said, but there was warmth in the dismissal.

"Think your father will interfere?" Kai asked, returning to the previous topic.

"He already has. Those shadows following her? They're not just protection. They're observation." He smiled grimly. "He wants to see what she uncovers."

"Historical revision seems tame compared to death mancers," Kai observed.

"Everything's connected. That's what makes it dangerous."

Two weeks until the trial. Now with a historian who held explosive truth and death mancers to hunt.

Getting crowded in here. Good thing I'm used to managing complicated allies. Even if last time ended with an arrow through the heart.

But Seren was different. Driven by truth rather than glory. Maybe that would make the difference.

Or maybe it would just get her killed more creatively.

Only one way to find out.

[Veritas Compound - Patriarch's Private Viewing Chamber]

Aedric Veritas stood in comfortable shadows, watching his eldest son train with the desperation of someone trying to outrun destiny. Thane's movements were perfect - seven years of training assured that. But perfection without purpose was just pretty motion.

"He's pushing too hard," Marcus observed from beside him. The old butler had served long enough to speak freely. "He'll injure himself at this rate."

"Physical injury heals. Broken pride festers." Aedric sipped wine that cost more than most families saw in a year. "He's trying to become what his brother already is. Impossible task."

"Young Avian has certainly exceeded expectations."

"Exceeded?" Aedric actually laughed. "Marcus, the boy has a researcher following him around trying to prove he's a reincarnated hero. Death mancers want to study him. He's hunting a merchant who funds necromantic terrorism. And he's doing it all while pretending to be a normal twelve-year-old."

"Should I inform young Avian that you're aware of his... unique situation?"

"Why would I do that?" Aedric seemed genuinely puzzled. "He knows I know something. I know he knows I know. It's all very symmetrical."

"But my lord, if he truly is the Demon King reborn—"

"Oh, he definitely is. That perfect Mana Heart, those combat techniques, the way he looks at Saint Vaerin's statues?" Aedric chuckled. "I never believed that ridiculous story anyway. Vaerin was competent, nothing more. The idea that he single-handedly defeated the Demon King? Propaganda for the masses."

"Then why not acknowledge—"

"Because this is far more entertaining." Aedric's eyes gleamed with genuine pleasure. "Do you know how boring it is being this powerful? Nothing challenges me anymore. But watching him navigate this situation? Delightful."

He gestured at the viewing crystal showing Avian's hotel suite.

"Look at them. Planning to infiltrate death mancers while a historian pieces together his identity. Will she prove it? Will he trust her? Will they survive? I have no idea!" He sounded genuinely happy. "It's been so long since I couldn't predict an outcome."

"The stakes seem rather high for entertainment, my lord."

"High stakes make it interesting." Aedric turned from the viewing crystal. "Besides, the boy needs challenges to grow. That perfect Mana Heart requires proper stimulation."

"He's already figured out how to block surveillance. Clever boy."

"He has?" Marcus looked concerned.

"Oh yes. That mana fluctuation trick? Lysander shouldn't have taught him that - it's meant for Knight Commanders only." But Aedric smiled with pride. "Let him think he has privacy. Makes him bolder."

"Young Thane won't accept this gracefully."

"No. He won't." Aedric watched his eldest attack training dummies with vicious precision. "Which is why I'm curious what he'll do. Adapt? Ally with his brother? Or let pride drive him to stupidity?"

"You could intervene—"

"And ruin the show? Never." Aedric finished his wine. "This is the most interesting thing to happen to our family in centuries. A reincarnated hero, ancient conspiracies, divine interference, and my sons at the center of it all."

"You sound like you're enjoying their suffering, my lord."

"I'm enjoying their growth. Suffering is just the catalyst." He moved toward the door. "Double the Ghosts on the historian. She's proven remarkably capable. It would be a shame if she died before revealing everything."

"And young Avian?"

"Let him keep his secrets. For now." Aedric's smile was sharp. "After all, the game is just getting interesting."

As he left, Thane finally collapsed in the training room. Aedric felt a moment of sympathy for his eldest. It wasn't Thane's fault he'd been born merely excellent in a family that had produced something impossible.

But sympathy wouldn't help him. Only adaptation would.

Let's see which of my sons rises to the occasion. And which one breaks.

The thought filled him with anticipation.