Hero Of Broken History

The dawn after the Elder's death painted the capital in shades of ash and gold. Smoke columns rose from three different districts where the Gold Knights had spent the night burning death mancer hideouts, their bodies, and anything touched by corruption. The air tasted of char and sanctified oil.

Commander Reeves stood before a pyre in the merchant quarter, watching black flames consume what remained of seventeen cultists. His scarred face held grim satisfaction as he supervised the cleansing. After years of watching death mancers operate just beyond the law's reach, finally being able to act felt like scratching an itch that had festered for decades.

"Any word from the forest teams?" he asked his lieutenant.

"Lord Kai and that... theatrical one are with Beta squadron. They've tracked down two runners so far." The lieutenant shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, about the rumors..."

"Which ones? The city's drowning in them this morning."

"The ones about young Lord Veritas. They say he entered Darkwood Forest with the Elder himself. That only one walked out."

Reeves's jaw tightened. He remembered the boy from just weeks ago – standing calmly in his guard post while corrupt sergeants tried to arrest him for defending himself. That same boy had apparently just killed something that had terrorized the Empire for five centuries.

"What are they calling him?"

"The One Who Hunted Death." The lieutenant's voice held a mix of awe and unease. "Sir, is it possible? A child killing something that old?"

Before Reeves could answer, cheers erupted from the next street. Another death mancer dragged from hiding, another small victory in the night's larger triumph.

Let them have their stories, Reeves thought. We need heroes more than we need truth.

"The protagonist demands you cease your villainous flight!" Leontis's voice echoed through the warehouse district. "Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Hunt Concludes!"

The death mancer he was chasing – a thin man who'd abandoned his robes for stolen merchant clothes – tried to duck into an alley. Kai was already there, knife spinning lazily.

"Going somewhere?"

The cultist spun, hands already weaving death magic. Or trying to. The spell fizzled halfway through, disrupted by sheer exhaustion and terror.

"Please," he gasped. "I'm just an initiate. I never killed anyone. I just transcribed texts, I swear—"

"Tell it to the Knights," Kai said, then paused. "Actually, don't. They're in a burning mood today."

Two Gold Knights appeared, binding the cultist with blessed chains. As they dragged him away, Leontis struck a victorious pose.

"Thus ends another verse in the epic of—"

"Leontis." Kai's voice held warning. "Look."

A crowd had gathered at the corner. Not unusual after a night of violence, but these weren't curious merchants or frightened citizens. These were people sharing a story, voices low but intense.

"—swear on my mother's grave. My cousin's in the city watch, saw him come through the east gate. Covered in black blood. That special sword of his still singing death songs—"

"—Elder just gone. Five hundred years of terror, ended by a child—"

"—say the Elder's gone—"

"—or gone underground. You know how these things go. Corpses disappear, shadows whisper—"

"—the forest itself bowed when he walked out—"

"—the One Who Hunted Death—"

Kai and Leontis exchanged glances. The story was spreading faster than wildfire, growing with each telling. But that one voice of doubt – that whisper about the Elder perhaps not being truly dead – made Kai's instincts prickle.

"The protagonist suspects we've been upstaged," Leontis muttered.

In the palace, the Emperor stood at his balcony overlooking the capital. Smoke still rose from various districts, but the city lived. The death mancer threat that had festered for years had been lanced in a single night.

"Your Majesty," his chamberlain announced. "Princess Celeste requests an audience."

"Send her in."

Celeste entered already dressed for the public ceremony, silver and gold that caught morning light like captured stars. But her expression was all business.

"Grandfather." No formality between them in private. "You've heard?"

"About the Elder's death? My spies reported it an hour ago." He turned from the view. "They say young Avian Veritas did what our Knights couldn't in five centuries."

"The stories are already growing. By noon he'll have fought an army. By evening he'll have wrestled death itself." She paused, studying her grandfather with those too-sharp eyes. "What do we do with such a legend?"

"We use it." The Emperor's smile held centuries of practice. "Heroes are useful things, granddaughter. Especially young ones who don't yet understand their value. Send word – I want the boy at the ceremony. Public recognition, a reward, and a private dinner."

"You're planning something." Not a question. Celeste knew that particular smile.

"He declined my letter once. Made me wait." The Emperor's expression didn't change, but something in the air grew heavier. "Emperor Karius Valerian does not wait for twelve-year-old boys, no matter how talented. Two weeks of silence before a polite refusal."

"Petty revenge disguised as honor?" she observed. "How very imperial of you."

"I prefer to think of it as education. He'll learn that when power calls, wisdom answers quickly." Karius moved to his desk with the careful grace of someone whose body was far older than it appeared. "Plus, I'm curious about a child who hunts monsters in forests where Knights fear to tread. That technique you described from the alley..."

"You think he's my savior?"

"I think he's interesting. And at my age, interesting is rare." He sealed the summons with practiced ease. "One way or another, we'll have our answers tonight."

Avian woke to pounding on his door. Everything hurt. His body felt like one giant bruise painted over older bruises. Even breathing sent spikes of pain through ribs that had taken too much punishment.

Should have dodged that last shadow spear. Getting sloppy in my old age. Or young age. Fuck, reincarnation makes verb tenses complicated.

"Lord Avian!" A servant's voice, pitched high with panic. "Lord Avian, urgent summons!"

He dragged himself upright, noting that someone – probably Lux – had managed to get him into bed still wearing blood-stiff clothes. The spirit wolf lay curled beside him, fur matted with dried blood, one eye still swollen shut.

"What?" His voice came out as a croak.

"Imperial summons, my lord! You're to attend the ceremony at noon. Personal invitation from His Majesty Emperor Karius Valerian himself!"

Karius Valerian. So the old bastard finally shows his hand. Can't just kill an ancient evil and sleep it off. No, have to play politics while my ribs are still knitting.

"Tell them I'll be there."

"Yes, my lord! And... and my lord? Is it true? About the Elder?"

Avian didn't answer. Let them wonder. Let the stories grow. Sometimes legends were more useful than truth.

After the servant fled, he forced himself up. Lux opened her good eye, whining softly.

"I know, girl. But apparently we're heroes now. Heroes don't get sick days."

Heroes get parades and poisoned wine. Heroes get monuments and knives in the back. Heroes get remembered wrong.

But he'd play the game. For now.

The Plaza of Victories had been transformed. Banners in gold and white streamed from every building. A raised platform dominated the center, where the Emperor would address his people. Citizens packed every available space, held back by ranks of guards.

Avian stood with the other "heroes" of the night – Gold Knight officers, a few adventurers who'd aided the assault, and of course, Kai and Leontis. He'd managed to clean up, though the formal clothes couldn't hide the way he favored his left side or the spectacular bruise darkening his jaw.

"You look like shit," Kai murmured.

"Feel worse."

"The protagonist notes you're stealing his narrative thunder," Leontis added, though without his usual energy. Even he seemed subdued by the ceremony's gravity.

Kai leaned closer, voice dropping to barely audible. "The Emperor doesn't smile like that unless he's already planned your funeral. Watch yourself up there."

Avian gave the slightest nod of acknowledgment. Trust Kai to spot the danger even in supposed honor.

Trumpets announced the Imperial family's arrival. Emperor Karius Valerian appeared first, and even from a distance, his presence commanded attention. The man who claimed to be a century and a half old moved with the fluid grace of someone far younger, yet his eyes held weight that made historians nervous about dates.

Princess Celeste followed, and despite being only fifteen, she already carried herself with the sharp intelligence that made courtiers wary. Then various ministers and court officials, each playing their role in the theater of power.

"Citizens of the Empire!" Karius's voice carried without effort, reaching every corner of the plaza. "Last night, we struck a blow against the darkness that has plagued our streets. The death mancer cult is broken! Their halls burn! Their Elder..."

He paused for effect.

"Their Elder is dead."

The crowd erupted. Five centuries of fear released in a roar of triumph. Karius let it wash over them before raising a hand for silence.

"Commander Reeves, step forward."

Avian blinked in surprise as the scarred guard commander climbed the platform. The man who'd saved him from corrupt guards just weeks ago now stood before the Emperor, looking uncomfortable in dress uniform.

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"For exceptional service in coordinating the city guard during last night's action," Karius announced. "For decades of honest service in a position where corruption would have been easier. The Empire recognizes you."

Reeves accepted his commendation with gruff dignity, and Avian caught the man's eye as he descended. A slight nod passed between them – recognition of their shared history.

"Knight Commander Cassius Aurelius, step forward."

The Gold Knight commander ascended with military precision, his golden armor somehow managing to gleam even brighter in the sunlight. This was the man who'd orchestrated the raids on Goldus, who'd led the assault on the death mancer warehouses.

"For swift and decisive action against necromantic threats," Karius proclaimed. "For turning a financial investigation into the dismantling of a death cult that plagued our capital. For leading the Gold Knights with distinction in battle against forces of corruption. The Empire recognizes your service."

Aurelius accepted his honors with the practiced ease of someone who'd stood on many ceremonial platforms. But Avian caught the slight smile – the commander knew exactly who'd planted that evidence that started everything.

The ceremony proceeded with military precision. Medals for other officers. Recognition for the adventurers. Public thanks that carried real weight in gold and favor.

Then: "Lord Avian Veritas. Step forward."

The crowd's noise died to whispers. Everyone knew the story by now, or thought they did. The boy who'd entered the forest with humanity's nightmare and walked out alone.

Avian climbed the platform steps, each one sending complaints through his body. He kept his face neutral as he approached the Emperor.

Up close, Karius looked like what he was – a man who'd held power so long it had become part of him. But his eyes held genuine interest as he studied Avian, and something else. Recognition? Amusement? Both?

"Twelve years old," the Emperor said, voice carrying clearly. "Yet you did what seasoned Knights could not. You tracked evil to its lair. You faced it without army or backup. And you triumphed."

He gestured, and a servant approached with a ceremonial sword. Not magical, but the blade was perfect steel wrapped in enough gold and gems to buy a small estate.

"The Empire recognizes your service, Lord Veritas."

Avian accepted the sword with a proper bow. The crowd cheered again, but he caught the Emperor's slight smile. The weight of the ceremony, the public attention, the formal recognition – Karius knew exactly how uncomfortable this made him.

Petty revenge for making him wait. Point taken, Your Majesty.

"Furthermore," Karius continued, and now the smile was definitely there, "you'll join us for dinner tonight. A small gathering to properly thank our heroes."

Not a request. A command wrapped in politeness.

"I'm honored, Your Majesty."

As he returned to his place, Avian caught Celeste watching him. Her expression held that same sharp curiosity from the tournament, like someone who'd found a piece that might fit her puzzle.

The ceremony continued, but the whispers had already started. The One Who Hunted Death. The boy who killed nightmares. The child who walked out of Darkwood Forest with black blood on his blade and death in his wake.

At least they're not calling me Demon King. Yet.

Miles away, in his study at the Veritas compound, Aedric read Kai's hastily written report. His laughter started low, building until it filled the room.

"My lord?" his secretary ventured.

"Read this." Aedric tossed him the report. "My youngest son – though should I even call him a child? – has killed something that's terrorized the Empire for five centuries. At twelve. While supposedly just dealing with a death mancer problem."

He stood, moving to the window that overlooked the training grounds.

"First the vault trial, where even Balefire - a spirit guardian who's served for centuries - recognized something in him. Then the tournament, making trained branch members submit within minutes despite being the youngest competitor. Now this. He's not building a reputation – he's creating a legend."

"The third trial is in less than a week, my lord."

"Yes." Aedric's smile was sharp with pride. "And I wonder – what will he do when he's not holding back? When he stops pretending to be weak?"

He thought of Thane, so carefully trained, so perfectly brutal. Of the other candidates who'd spent years preparing for their moment.

None of them understood. They were competing for second place.

His youngest son had already won – he just hadn't decided to claim it yet.

"Send word to the capital. I want daily reports on everything Avian does. Every rumor, every whisper, every story that spreads." His expression grew thoughtful. "Legends are powerful things. But they're also dangerous. They attract attention from those who'd rather see myths remain buried."

"Yes, my lord. Anything else?"

"Yes. Double the guard on the compound. If death mancers want revenge for their Elder, they might be stupid enough to try." He paused. "And send my congratulations to Avian. Tell him..."

What did you tell a son who was becoming something beyond what any father could have imagined?

"Tell him I'm proud. And that I look forward to seeing what impossibility he manages next."

The Imperial dinner was held in the Palace's Star Chamber, an intimate room where ceiling enchantments showed the night sky regardless of the hour. Only twenty guests – the key figures from the night's victory and select nobility.

Avian found himself seated between Princess Celeste and Knight Commander Aurelius, who seemed determined to extract every detail of the forest encounter. He deflected with practiced ease, giving just enough to seem cooperative while revealing nothing substantial.

"You move interestingly for someone so young," Celeste observed during the third course, those sharp eyes missing nothing. "Like you're expecting attacks from angles that don't exist."

"Recent experience has taught me paranoia."

"Mmm. And your sword work – Kai mentioned you fight like someone who learned through necessity rather than instruction." She was probing, testing, looking for confirmation of her suspicions.

Kai talks too much. Note to self: find creative ways to make him regret that.

"The trials demanded quick learning."

"Of course." She didn't sound convinced. "Tell me, Lord Avian – what do you think happened to the Elder's body?"

The question came casual as breathing, but Avian wasn't fooled. This was the girl who'd recognized forbidden techniques in a dark alley, who read her grandfather's restricted texts for fun.

"I assume the forest claimed it. Darkwood doesn't give up its dead easily."

"How poetic." She studied him over her wine glass. "And how convenient. No body means the stories can grow unchecked. The One Who Hunted Death. Has a nice ring to it."

Her voice dropped lower, meant only for him. "Though I heard one interesting whisper in the crowd today. Someone wondering if corpses can disappear, if shadows might still whisper. Makes one think, doesn't it?"

Before he could respond to that concerning observation, Emperor Karius approached. The dinner conversation died as the Emperor stopped beside Avian's chair.

"Walk with me."

It wasn't a request. Avian rose, following the Emperor to a balcony that overlooked the palace gardens. Night-blooming flowers filled the air with perfume that couldn't quite mask the lingering smoke from the morning's pyres.

They stood in silence for a moment before Karius spoke.

"You made me wait." His tone was conversational, but Avian heard the steel beneath. "My letter sat unanswered for two weeks before you deigned to send a polite refusal."

"I apologize, Your Majesty. The trials—"

"Were an excuse." Karius turned, and his smile held edges sharp enough to cut. "Do you know how rarely I, Karius Valerian, extend personal invitations? How unusual it is for the Emperor to notice someone not yet of age?"

"I'm beginning to understand."

"Good. Consider tonight a gentle reminder – when power calls, wisdom answers quickly." The smile softened slightly, becoming almost paternal. "That said, you've done the Empire a great service. The Elder's death breaks the death mancers' spine. They'll scatter, hide, perhaps disappear entirely."

"Or they'll want revenge."

"Possibly. Are you worried?"

Avian thought of the message he'd left in blood. Of the promise that this was just the beginning.

"No, Your Majesty. Let them come."

Something flickered in Karius's ancient eyes. Assessment? Approval? Something older and more knowing?

"You're very confident for someone who barely survived the encounter. Your injuries suggest it wasn't the easy victory the stories claim."

"Stories need heroes, Your Majesty. Truth is usually uglier."

"Indeed." Karius paused, his ancient eyes studying Avian with unsettling intensity. "Though I must confess curiosity. The Elder survived five centuries by being cautious, paranoid, willing to sacrifice anything to preserve his life. Yet the reports say he fled into the forest after a single wound to his shoulder. That he abandoned the safety of numbers and wards for... what? A dramatic final stand?"

The Emperor's smile held too much knowledge. "In my experience, ancient death mancers don't suddenly develop a sense of honor. They run when they're truly terrified. What did you do, I wonder, that scared something that old into abandoning five centuries of survival instinct?"

Avian kept his expression neutral. "Perhaps he recognized that some fights can't be won."

"Perhaps." Karius's tone suggested he wasn't buying it. "Or perhaps he saw something in you that made death in a forest preferable to whatever you represented. Curious, isn't it?"

The Emperor moved to the balcony rail, looking out over his city with the air of someone who'd watched it grow for far longer than his official age suggested. "I'm curious about you, Avian Veritas. A boy who appears from nowhere, claims power others spend decades seeking, and hunts monsters in his spare time. That sword you carry – Fargrim, isn't it? – hasn't been seen since certain unfortunate events five centuries ago."

Careful. He's fishing, but he doesn't know what for. Or does he? Those eyes have seen too much.

"The vault trial provided many surprises."

"Yes, I heard. Treasures choosing you that shouldn't choose anyone." The Emperor's voice stayed casual, but Avian felt the weight of his attention. "Almost like they recognized something. Or someone."

"I wouldn't know, Your Majesty. I'm just twelve."

That earned a laugh, short and sharp. "Just twelve. Yes. The same age I was when I killed my first rival. Youth and innocence are rarely the same thing, Lord Avian."

He turned from the view, and his expression had shifted to something more genuine. The ancient eyes bore into Avian's with an intensity that made the air feel heavy.

"Tell me, Lord Avian..." Karius's voice dropped to barely above a whisper, each word precisely weighted. "Have you ever died before?"

The question hung in the air like a blade. Around them, the garden seemed to hold its breath. Even the night insects fell silent.

Avian's heart hammered, but he kept his expression neutral through sheer will. "That's an unusual question, Your Majesty."

"I'm an unusual man." Karius's smile was sharp as winter. "Humor an old Emperor's curiosity. Have you ever felt that particular darkness? That moment when everything ends?"

"I imagine we all face death eventually."

"That's not what I asked." The Emperor stepped closer, and Avian could feel the weight of centuries in his presence. "I asked if you've died. Past tense. A simple yes or no would suffice."

He knows. Or suspects. Or is fishing so expertly I can't tell the difference.

"Death is a complex philosophical concept, Your Majesty. Some say we die a little each day. Others believe—"

"Philosophy." Karius laughed, stepping back. "The refuge of those who don't wish to answer directly. Very well, keep your secrets. But know this – at my age, one develops a sense for these things. For souls that carry more weight than their years should allow."

He moved toward the door, then paused one final time.

"My granddaughter is quite taken with you, you know. She has a talent for finding interesting people. And for asking uncomfortable questions – she gets that from me." His smile held centuries of accumulated knowledge. "The third trial approaches. Your father speaks highly of your potential."

"He's been supportive."

"Aedric's a practical man. He supports what brings power to House Veritas." Karius smiled one last time. "But I think he genuinely enjoys watching you confound expectations. As do I."

"Your Majesty?"

"Nothing entertains like watching careful plans collapse against impossible talent." He gestured toward the door. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lord Avian. Try not to hunt any more ancient evils for at least a week. The city's graveyards need time to prepare."

"And Lord Avian?" The Emperor's voice carried back, casual as breathing. "Do give my regards to whoever you were... before."

After the Emperor left, Avian remained on the balcony, hands gripping the rail hard enough to leave marks. Below, the garden's shadows seemed deeper than they should. Somewhere in them, death mancers probably plotted revenge. In less than a week, the third trial would determine House Veritas's future.

Writing that message about the Demon King was fucking stupid, he thought, the reality of it hitting him now that the adrenaline had faded. What was I thinking? 'The Demon King remembers his enemies'? Might as well have signed my real name. But whatever, too late now.

And somewhere in his own compound, Thane sat on knowledge that could destroy everything.

The One Who Hunted Death. If they knew the truth – that death had hunted me first, had claimed me, had sent me back changed – would they still cheer?

Probably not.

But that was a problem for another day. Tonight, he'd survived politics and dinner with the powerful. And an Emperor who asked questions that cut too close to the bone.

Sometimes survival was victory enough.

Even for legends.

Back at the Veritas compound, Aedric set down the report from his intelligence network – this time from the family Ghosts who'd been shadowing Avian in the forest.

"The boy left a message," the Ghost commander reported. "Written in the Elder's blood. 'The Demon King remembers his enemies. The dead collect all debts.'"

Aedric's secretary shifted uncomfortably. "That's rather... specific, my lord. If anyone connects it to—"

"They won't." Aedric was already writing orders. "You had teams in place?"

"Of course, my lord. As you instructed, we had Ghosts following him the entire time." The commander's tone held professional pride. "The altar was destroyed, the message erased, and the area cleansed before dawn. Any death mancers who arrived later found only scorched earth."

"Good. And witnesses?"

"There were none to worry about. The forest was empty save for your son and the Elder's corpse."

Aedric leaned back, considering. "My son is brilliant, but he's still twelve. Children do impulsive things when riding high on victory. Writing dramatic messages in blood? Pure adolescent theater."

"Shall we increase his protection detail?"

"No. He'd notice and resent it. Continue the standard shadow detail only." Aedric smiled slightly. "Sometimes the best protection is letting them think they're unprotected. Keeps them sharp."

"Yes, my lord. Though I must ask – why not simply tell him we covered his tracks?"

"Because then he'd know we're always watching. Better he thinks he got away with childish dramatics than realizes the extent of our surveillance." Aedric returned to his window. "Besides, a little fear of consequences might make him think twice next time he's tempted to sign his kills."

"Understood. The official story remains that the Elder died in the forest, no messages, no dramatics."

"Precisely. Let the death mancers wonder and fear shadows. Let my son learn discretion through worry." He paused. "And commander? Well done. Your team's quick action may have saved him from considerable complications."

As the Ghost commander departed, Aedric allowed himself a small smile. His youngest son had created a legend tonight, but legends attracted attention. Both good and bad.

A child is still a child, he thought. No matter how many lifetimes they might carry. And a father's job is to protect them from their own impulsive moments.

Even if that protection had to remain invisible.