The crowds filled the Imperial Square like an unstoppable wave of humanity. Thousands of eyes were fixed on the marble stage that had been set up specifically for this occasion—a triumph that would be remembered by history. Banners of gold and blue fluttered in every corner, displaying the majestic coat of arms of the kingdom.
Askaroth stood among the ranks of other prisoners, the iron chains on his wrists creaking with every movement. His position in the corner of the stage was chosen so that all the people could see him clearly—living proof of the betrayal that had been exposed. The whip wounds on his back still stung, but the physical pain was nothing compared to what he would face today.
"Respected people of Aethermoor!"
The familiar voice made Askaroth's jaw tighten. Sir Gareth Lightbringer, the kingdom's venerated hero, strode to the center of the stage with a confident stride. His golden armor glinted in the sunlight, the legendary sword Dawnbreaker neatly sheathed at his waist.
A thunderous applause greeted Gareth's appearance. Chants of "Long live the Lightbringer!" and "True heroes!" echoed throughout the square. Askaroth felt a deep sense of nausea at the spectacle.
"Today is a historic day!" Gareth raised his hand, and the crowd fell silent. His deep, commanding voice reached every corner of the square with ease. "Today, we celebrate the revelation of the evil conspiracy that nearly destroyed our beloved kingdom!"
Askaroth's eyes scanned the crowd. The faces he once knew, the people he had once protected with his strategies, now stared at him with hatred and disappointment. Not a single one showed any hesitation. They had swallowed the narrative he was being presented with.
"You all know the story of our defeat at Shadowmere Fortress," Gareth continued, his voice rising with practiced emotion. "Three thousand of our finest soldiers died in that battle. Three thousand fathers, husbands, and sons who will never return home."
Sobs began to rise from the crowd. Askaroth clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms. He remembered clearly the night before the attack, how he knelt before Duke Aldric, begging for a change of position. He remembered how his warnings were ignored as "too cowardly."
"But now we know the real reason behind the defeat," Gareth turned and pointed directly at Askaroth. "Not because of the enemy's bravery, not because of their superior strength. But because of the betrayal of someone we trusted!"
The decibels of the angry shouts from the crowd rose dramatically. "Death to the traitor!" "Death to the enemy!" "Blood for blood!" Askaroth stood his ground even as the storm of anger battered him from every direction.
"Askaroth of House Valdris," Gareth uttered the name with forced disgust, "a man we once respected as a strategic advisor, has sold secret information to the enemy for personal gain!"
Lie after lie. Askaroth wanted to scream, wanted to argue, but the cotton in his mouth and the chains in his hands rendered him powerless. He could only stand there like a doll in a museum of betrayal.
"And that's not all!" Gareth drew Dawnbreaker, and golden flashes of light danced along the blade.
"Further investigation revealed that he had also plotted the assassination of His Majesty King Aurelius!"
This time the crowd was truly furious. Stones began to be thrown toward the stage, though most landed on the magical shield that had been set up. Askaroth could feel their hatred like a searing heat wave.
"But justice has been served!" Gareth raised his sword high. "Thanks to the vigilance of the House of Lords and the grace of the gods, this evil conspiracy was uncovered before it was too late!"
The applause erupted again, this time louder than before. Askaroth could see that Sir Gareth was enjoying every second of the attention. The man's blue eyes glinted with deep satisfaction.
"You wonder, what is the appropriate punishment for such a great betrayal?" Gareth walked toward Askaroth, his steps slow and dramatic. "Death? Yes, treason is indeed worthy of death."
The crowd held its breath. Askaroth looked Gareth straight in the eye, and for a moment, he saw something strange flash there. Not hatred or anger, but... personal satisfaction? Victory?
"However," Gareth turned back to the crowd, "His Majesty King Aurelius, in his infinite wisdom and kindness, has decided to show mercy."
A chorus of protest rose from the crowd. "Too kind!" "He deserves no mercy!"
"Askaroth of House Valdris," Gareth pointed again, this time with the tip of his sword, "will be forever exiled to the Shadowlands. A cursed land where none can survive. A punishment more cruel than death itself."
Shadowlands. The mere mention of the name made some in the crowd shudder. A land where dark magic had poisoned everything, where unimaginable monsters roamed free. A place where even the bravest of heroes feared to set foot.
"He will be escorted to the border tomorrow at dawn," Gareth continued, "and if he dares to return, his sentence will be immediate and without trial."
Askaroth felt something strange happening in his chest. Not the fear or despair he had expected to feel. But something cold, dark, and... freeing.
"But today is not just about exposing the betrayal," Gareth's voice became warmer, more inspiring.
"Today is also about celebrating the victory of good over evil! About our unity as one nation!"
The crowd began to cheer again. Gareth raised both his hands, posing like a victor in a grand tournament.
"I swear before you all," he said in a voice that shook with emotion, "that as long as breath flows in my body, no more traitors will ever harm our beloved kingdom! I will be your shield, your sword, and your hope!"
Thunderous applause filled the square. "Lightbringer! Lightbringer! Lightbringer!" The name was repeated like a sacred mantra.
Amidst the euphoria, Askaroth's eyes met Gareth's for the second time. And this time, he saw something that made his blood run cold. Behind the mask of the noble hero, Askaroth saw a small smile of personal triumph.
The smile of someone who had just defeated his greatest rival.
In an instant, all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Information that had "leaked" to the enemy. The "fake" letters found in his chambers. The absurd accusation of murder. It was not just a conspiracy of the House of Lords.
This was Gareth Lightbringer's game.
Askaroth felt his anger turn to something colder, more controlled, more dangerous. He had always thought that the nobles were jealous of him. It turned out that the real threat came from a place he had never expected.
"And now," Gareth raised his sword once more, "let us build a brighter future for Aethermoor together! A future without betrayal, without conspiracy, without… parasites that eat away at our strength from within!"
The word "parasite" was spoken as he glanced directly at Askaroth. The message behind it was clear: You are no longer needed here.
As the ceremony ended and the crowd began to disperse, guards came to carry Askaroth back to the dungeons. But before he was dragged off the stage, Gareth approached with a leisurely stride.
"Farewell, old mentor," he whispered in a voice only Askaroth could hear. "Thank you for teaching me everything I need to know about strategy and politics. Your final lesson—that even the smartest can be defeated if they let their guard down—was invaluable."
Mentor? Askaroth frowned. He had never been Gareth's mentor. They had rarely interacted outside of formal meetings.
"Oh, you didn't know?" Gareth smiled wider. "All the brilliant strategies that made you famous… I whispered the basic ideas to you. Through intermediaries, of course. I let you shine, and I will also destroy you."
Askaroth's eyes widened. He had always thought his strategic acumen was a natural ability. It turned out…
"A final question from your best student," Gareth continued, "how does it feel to realize that you were just a puppet in a much bigger game?"
The guards began to drag Askaroth away, but Gareth's soft laughter could still be heard as he followed.
In the cold dungeon cell, Askaroth sat in the darkness, processing the devastating revelation. It wasn't just his pride and dignity that had been shattered today. The entire identity he had built over the years had been an illusion.
But in the destruction, something new began to grow. Something dark, cold, and dangerous.
Tomorrow, he would go into the Shadowlands as a defeated and humiliated Askaroth. But one day, he would return as something entirely different.
And when that day came, Gareth Lightbringer would regret awakening the monster that slept inside his former mentor.
In the darkness of the cell, Askaroth's emerald green eyes gleamed with the promise of death.