Hero Of Broken History

Avian's POV - Academy Grounds, Mid-Morning

The Church Knights weren't setting up checkpoints, but they might as well have been. Every corner had a pair of them, white cloaks bright against Academy stone, asking "routine questions" of any student who looked nervous.

"Excuse me, young lord." A Shepherd materialized beside a first-year carrying too many books. "Might we have a word about your reading materials?"

"They're just textbooks—"

"Of course. We simply want to ensure they're appropriate. The Church cares deeply about your spiritual education."

The kid fumbled his books. Papers scattered. Three Knights immediately bent to "help," examining each page with the kind of careful attention usually reserved for evidence.

"Back off," Avian said, not bothering to stop. "The Academy's made it clear you have no authority here."

The Shepherd straightened, mask turning toward him. "Lord Veritas. We're simply concerned for student welfare—"

"Be concerned somewhere else. Preferably off Academy grounds."

"The Archbishop will hear of this interference."

"Good. Tell him I said to fuck off too."

Kai caught up as Avian continued walking, leaving the Shepherds to mutter among themselves.

"Subtle," Kai observed.

"They're pushing. After what the Dean did to that Lightbringer yesterday, they should know better."

"After what happened in the Underground last night, they're desperate to look strong."

The first article—"The Commander Who Saved the East"—had been out for two days now, and the arguments hadn't stopped. If anything, they'd intensified. A group of third-years near the fountain were deep in heated discussion, voices carrying.

"—can't just dismiss military records because they're inconvenient—"

"—Church says they're forged—"

"—Church says a lot of things—"

A pair of Knights drifted closer to that group, not intervening but obviously listening. The students noticed and lowered their voices, but didn't stop talking.

"Is Leontis stable?" Kai asked.

"Define stable."

"Not publicly reciting forbidden military history."

"Then no. Should check on him later."

"After your meeting with the Archbishop?"

"If they don't find an excuse to arrest me."

Professor Harwick stood at the end of the hallway, facing off with three Church Knights. The scarred combat instructor looked ready to demonstrate why he'd survived whatever had taken his eye.

"—Academy business is Academy business," Harwick was saying. "You have no authority to demand student records."

"We're investigating heresy," the lead Knight replied. "That transcends institutional boundaries."

"Does it? Show me the writ. Show me the seal from the Imperial Magistrate granting you jurisdiction."

"The Church doesn't need—"

"The Church needs exactly what every other organization needs—legal authority." Harwick's hand rested on his sword. "Which you don't have."

The tension stretched until Avian thought something might snap. Then bells rang across the Academy—not normal hour bells but the urgent summons to assembly.

The Knights withdrew, but their leader paused. "This isn't over, Professor."

"Looking forward to continuing our discussion," Harwick replied with a smile that promised violence.

As the Knights left, Harwick caught Avian's eye. "Assembly hall. Now. Archbishop Caldris arrived an hour ago—he was already traveling when last night's incident occurred. Wants to address everyone."

The Great Hall - Noon

The Archbishop hadn't just arrived. He'd made an entrance.

Five Church Knights in full ceremonial armor stood at strategic points around the hall. Archbishop Caldris himself stood at the podium, looking like everyone's kind grandfather if their grandfather could call down divine judgment. His gentle smile somehow made him more unsettling than any scowling inquisitor.

"My children," he began, voice carrying without effort. "I come to you in troubled times. Truth twisted into lies. Discord disguised as enlightenment. Some among you have been led astray by clever words and false histories."

The hall was divided—some students nodding along, others scowling, most just confused. The first article had shaken faith, but hadn't broken it. Yet.

"The article circulating claims our beloved Saint Vaerin's history has been misrepresented." The Archbishop's smile never wavered. "Such painful deceptions, designed to shake your faith. The Commander Who Saved the East—a fantasy built on fragments of misunderstood records."

"What about the military dispatches?" someone called out from the crowd.

The Archbishop's gaze swept toward the voice. "Ah, questioning minds. The dispatches were real, yes. But incomplete. Context removed. The full records show Commander D was a minor figure, his role inflated by enemies of the faith seeking to diminish Saint Vaerin's victories."

Bullshit wrapped in silk, Avian thought, but delivered with such certainty that some students are buying it.

"I understand your confusion. Your doubts. That is why I've come personally—I'd already begun traveling when I heard of certain... disturbing events. The timing proved fortuitous." His smile never wavered. "I'm here to remind you of truth. To protect you from those who would use your natural curiosity against you."

He raised his hand, and divine light pulsed from his palm. Soft, warm, comforting. Several students sighed as it washed over them.

But when it reached Avian, it recoiled.

The Archbishop's eyes found him immediately. His smile widened slightly.

"Interesting," he murmured, though his voice still carried. "It seems we have those among us bearing unusual protections. Divine light recognizes divine purpose... and divine opposition."

Every eye turned toward Avian's section. He kept his expression neutral, but around him, whispers erupted immediately.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Was it him?"

"Could be anyone in that area..."

"But he was dead center..."

"The divine light actually recoiled—I've never seen that happen..."

About time he figured something out.

"But that's a matter for private discussion," the Archbishop continued smoothly. "Dean Aldrich, might we speak after? There are concerns about Academy security we should address."

The Dean stood from his seat, expression carved from stone. "My office is available at your convenience, Your Grace."

"Excellent. And Lord Veritas? Please join us."

The specific summons caused more whispers. Students near Avian edged away slightly.

"Students, please remember—your souls are precious. Don't let them be tainted by those who would rewrite history for their own ends. The Truth's Witness, whoever they are, serves only chaos."

He stepped down from the podium, but the threat lingered like incense. Students immediately erupted in heated discussion as they began filing out.

"Did you see that? The light actually recoiled!"

"Who was it? Someone in the center sections—"

"Lord Veritas was right there..."

"Could've been anyone near him—"

"Never seen divine light reject someone like that—"

"Well," Kai said quietly as they pushed through the crowd. "That was subtle."

"He knows about the Underground," Avian said calmly. "Was only a matter of time."

"What will you do?"

"Whatever's necessary." Avian stood. "We need to deal with that merchant you found watching the distribution center. Before the second article drops."

"You think it's coming soon?"

"No idea when, but we need to cripple local distribution as soon as possible. Can't let them keep spreading through the Academy."

"After your meeting with the Archbishop?"

"If they don't find an excuse to arrest me."

Dean's Tower - Mid-Afternoon

The climb felt longer knowing the Archbishop waited above. His knights remained outside the tower—even they understood the Dean's domain was off-limits.

He found Dean Aldrich behind his crystal desk, but he wasn't alone. Archbishop Caldris sat across from him, sipping tea like they were discussing weather rather than heresy.

"Ah, Lord Veritas," the Archbishop said warmly. "Please, sit. We were just discussing the Academy's remarkable student body."

Avian sat carefully. The Archbishop's presence felt like standing next to a forge—overwhelming heat that could either warm or burn.

"Lord Veritas in particular," the Archbishop continued. "Son of Aedric, one of the Five Great Blades. Your demonstration of Grandmaster-rank aura to Professor Harwick was quite remarkable, I'm told."

"I do my best."

"Indeed. Your best seems to include some unusual techniques. Old techniques. The kind that haven't been seen for centuries."

Honey over steel, Avian thought, but the steel's still there.

"I've had excellent teachers."

"Of course." The Archbishop set down his teacup. "I must say, the Academy seems to have a problem with security. The Underground, for instance. Such a dangerous place for students."

"Students rarely go there," the Dean said mildly. "And Your Grace, I'd remind you to be careful in how you approach this. The Academy values its independence."

"As it should. I'm merely expressing concern." The Archbishop's smile never wavered. "Especially after last night's incident. Two of my knights killed while investigating heretical distributions." His eyes never left Avian. "The survivor—a remarkably talented young woman—described something interesting. A masked swordsman with a demon blade. She recognized the aura as Grandmaster-rank through its sheer weight and flow. Quite perceptive for one so young."

The Dean's fingers tapped once on his desk—a warning.

"Tragic," Avian said. "The Underground is dangerous."

"Indeed. Which is why the Church will be taking good care of it from now on." The Archbishop's smile widened. "We're increasing patrols significantly. One might say we're turning it into a fortress. For everyone's safety, of course."

Blocking the distribution routes. Smart.

"That seems excessive," the Dean noted. "And again, Your Grace, the Academy's authority—"

"Extends to the Academy. The Underground is technically city territory." The temperature dropped slightly. "But I'm not here to argue jurisdiction. Simply ensuring no further incidents occur."

He stood smoothly. "Lord Veritas, a word of advice. Your father is a great man. One of the Empire's pillars. It would be... unfortunate if his son were caught up in something that brought shame to that name."

Avian met his gaze directly. "I appreciate your concern. But I don't give a shit what you think."

The Dean's teacup rattled slightly. "Lord Veritas. Respect."

But the Archbishop just smiled wider, and for a moment, it was the smile of something that had outlived empires.

"Such spirit. Your father was the same at your age. Thought himself invincible." He moved toward the door. "I have all the time in the world, young lord. But I don't need all of it to deal with you. The truth always surfaces. And when it does..." He paused. "Well, let's hope you're on the right side of it."

He left, robes swirling.

The Dean waited until the footsteps faded, then activated privacy wards with a gesture.

"That was foolish."

"He already knows. Why pretend otherwise?"

"Because now he knows you know he knows." The Dean leaned back. "The Archbishop plays a longer game than simple confrontation. He's giving you rope."

"To hang myself with?"

"Precisely." The Dean's ancient eyes studied him. "I won't intervene in whatever game you're playing, Lord Veritas. But understand this—the Academy's independence has limits. If you bring war to my gates, I will end it. One way or another."

"Understood."

"I doubt that, but we'll see." He deactivated the wards. "Try not to cause any more problems this week. Leave people alive if possible."

"What makes you think I've caused problems?"

"The Church has set up medical camps. Brought in extra healers. More than they'd need for simple investigations." The Dean's eyes glinted. "Either something incited them, or they're preparing for something. Or both. Whatever you may or may not have done, be more careful."

Avian left, descending the long stairway. The Church Knights watched him pass from outside, and he could feel their hostility like heat from a forge.

Need to deal with that merchant. The Underground is locked down. Have to find another way.

That Evening - Leontis's Room

Avian found Leontis surrounded by even more papers than usual. The bard looked up with relief.

"Finally. The protagonist was beginning to think you'd forgotten again."

"Had a meeting with the Archbishop. How are you holding up? Heard you called in sick."

"Easier than explaining spontaneous historical recitations to concerned professors." He picked up the Resonance Codex, which hummed with barely contained power. "The memories are getting stronger."

"What kind of memories?"

"Specific ones. Sequential. From someone who witnessed everything." He frowned in concentration. "A bard, I think. Someone trying to write the greatest tale of all time. They were there, documenting everything. Every battle. Every moment."

"Recording the war?"

"Recording Commander D specifically. Following him. Watching from a distance." Leontis's expression grew troubled. "Whoever this was, they saw him become the Demon King. They remember the transformation."

Avian's blood chilled. "What do they remember?"

"Not enough. Yet. But it's coming. Each trigger brings more." Leontis stood. "Avian? Whatever you're really here for, whatever you're looking for... I think we're running out of time to find it."

"Why?"

"Because the Archbishop isn't here to investigate. He's here to prepare for war. Look at the patterns—increased patrols, medical camps, knights everywhere. This is military preparation, not religious inquiry."

Outside, the Academy grounds were tense with unspoken threats. Church Knights continued their "concerned inquiries." Students huddled in groups, discussing the first article in hushed tones, speculating about who had caused the divine light to recoil.

Avian left Leontis's room and found Kai waiting in the hallway.

"How bad?" Kai asked.

"The Underground is completely locked down."

"So the merchant?"

"We need to plan something else." Avian started walking. "His house, maybe. Tomorrow night. Need to think it through."

"That's bold."

"That's necessary. And it's not just about distribution - we need to find the chain that leads back to Seren. If we can get to her, understand why she's doing this, maybe we can stop her before more people die." Avian's jaw tightened. "These articles are going to start a war if they continue."

They walked in silence back to their dormitory. The Academy at night felt different now—watched, measured, evaluated. Every shadow could hide a Church spy. Every conversation could be reported.

"The Archbishop knows it was me," Avian said quietly. "He's just waiting for the right moment."

"So why not arrest you?"

"Because he's smarter than that. Arresting Aedric's son without absolute proof would cause political problems. But when that girl identifies me herself..."

"He gets his result without the political fallout."

"Exactly."

They reached their rooms. Before separating, Kai asked, "What's the play?"

"The merchant tomorrow to find the source. Stop the local distribution and trace it back to whoever's writing these." Avian's expression hardened. "Then we deal with whatever comes."

"And the girl?"

Avian thought about the fifteen-year-old who'd sworn vengeance over her mentor's corpse. If I were her, I'd be training every waking moment. Probably is right now.

"She'll come when she's ready. Could be weeks, could be months. Doesn't matter."

As he closed his door, he could hear the Academy bells tolling the late hour. Somewhere in the Church camp, a girl was probably pushing herself past exhaustion, each strike of her practice sword a promise of vengeance.

The articles had to be coming from somewhere with resources, Avian thought. Distribution across multiple cities simultaneously, quality printing, the network to spread them... The capital's the only place with that kind of infrastructure.

Somewhere in that sprawling city, Seren Lyselle was carefully preparing her next truth, unaware that her words had already cost two lives.

And in his room, Leontis played melodies from a war five centuries past, memories of some long-dead bard surfacing with each note.