Chapter 73 ‒ The Hidden Truth
Chapter 73 ‒ The Hidden Truth
Tyler’s mind churned as he slipped through the moonlit corridors, steps silent as a shadow. Caldus’s evasions, Lucien’s contempt, Sylas’s scheming — each clue layered atop the last until they formed a tangled snarl of deceit. It all pointed to something deeper, darker. He needed to know the truth.
Outside the minister’s chamber, he activated [Disguise], blending seamlessly into the walls. Moments later, he saw Lucien and Sylas leave the room, moving briskly toward the rear gardens. Tyler trailed them like a phantom, curiosity burning in his chest. He wanted to hear what they would say when they thought no one was listening.
“We were supposed to handle him before he could act,” Lucien muttered, pacing restlessly. “How did he vanish before we even started?”
Sylas adjusted his robes, eyes narrow. “Regardless, it’s better this way. If he remains gone, your succession is secured.”
“And what of Baldwin’s hunters? He was preparing to send them after Theodore in the forest,” Lucien hissed.
Sylas waved a hand dismissively. “They will find nothing. Perhaps the wild beasts or monsters will do our work for us.”
Lucien clenched his fists. “Pathetic. My brother always was an embarrassment. A stain on our bloodline.”
Tyler felt a chill crawl down his spine. It was clear now — the conspiracy ran deep. Lucien wasn’t just indifferent; he had plotted to eliminate his own brother. Sylas and even Baldwin were entangled in this.
As Tyler slipped out of the palace grounds, moonlight glistened on the dew-laden grass. He felt the weight of everything he had learned pressing on his shoulders.
Caldus’s evasions, Lucien’s cruelty, Sylas’s manipulations… Each piece fell into place like a dark puzzle.
Who could he trust? Who was a true ally in this labyrinth of power?
Yet in all this darkness, one thing remained unwavering — his resolve.
Tomorrow, he would search alone. No more delays, no more interference.
He looked up at the moon, its pale glow reflecting in his eyes.
“Tomorrow, I will find the truth on my own.”
---
The next morning, Tyler stepped into the bustling residential districts. The scent of fresh bread and sizzling fish filled the air, blending with the sea breeze that swept through narrow alleyways. Despite the lively chatter and colourful banners, suspicion hovered in the residents’ eyes when they noticed his armour and weapons.
He approached shopkeepers and passersby one by one. “Have you seen any strangers lurking? Unusual visitors? Anyone asking odd questions?”
Most shook their heads or turned away quickly. Tyler also asked after anyone called ‘Sunshine,’ but received only puzzled stares and apologetic shrugs.
Feeling the frustration tighten in his chest, Tyler turned down a narrow lane and spotted a familiar sign — Kelmo’s father’s bakery. The warm aroma of freshly baked bread curled into the street, momentarily easing his tension. Inside, Kelmo’s father was arranging loaves on the counter.
“Ah, Tyler! What brings you here again?” the baker greeted with a surprised smile.
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“I’m searching for clues,” Tyler replied quietly. “Anything unusual happen lately?”
The baker scratched his chin. “Well, corrupted tree wraiths have been appearing more often, but Sir Baldwin always arrives quickly and defeats them before they cause much harm. Property gets damaged sometimes, but our lives haven’t been in danger. Still, it’s unsettling.”
Tyler nodded, thanking him before stepping back into the street. His mind turned over the baker’s words: Sir Baldwin arriving swiftly each time. Almost too swiftly.
Shaking off the unease, he pressed on. He spoke to elders sitting in the sun, children playing near water barrels, merchants unloading crates — but no one offered anything concrete. The distrust toward an armed outsider seemed insurmountable.
With no leads in sight, Tyler decided there was only one place left: the forest.
---
He set out as the afternoon shadows lengthened, his boots crunching along the moss-lined trails. Deeper and deeper he ventured, until even the calls of birds seemed to fade into a tense hush.
It didn’t take long before he stumbled upon the first strange house. Its wide porch sagged, and broken furniture littered the yard. Inside, shards of glass glimmered like scattered stars across the floor, and a suffocating murky smell stung his nose. Tyler covered his mouth with his sleeve, stepping gingerly past shattered cabinets and overturned tables.
He found signs of a struggle: deep claw marks on the walls, splintered beams, and dried smears of dark fluid. Every corner reeked of recent violence. He left quickly, trying to clear the heavy stench from his lungs.
The second and third houses were no different — all large, all reeking, all wrecked from fights that felt eerily fresh. The same acidic smell clung to each room, making his skin crawl.
Tyler stepped out of the third ruined house, the forest air heavy on his skin. The lingering stench clung to his armour, and each breath felt thick, as if the trees themselves were pressing closer. He paused, listening — but there was no birdsong, no rustle of leaves. Only the distant creak of branches swaying in the dim light.
A faint breeze carried scraps of burnt paper and broken leaves across his boots. Tyler crouched, brushing his fingers over the deep claw marks gouged into the mossy ground. The patterns were erratic, as though something had been dragged — or someone had fought desperately to escape.
He straightened slowly, wiping his palm against his cloak. The emptiness in these houses, the pungent residue, and the unnaturally quiet forest all pointed to one thing: someone had wanted to erase traces, to make sure no one found what they were hiding.
Tyler glanced upward through the shifting canopy, moonlight flashing between leaves like shards of glass. How long had this been happening under everyone’s nose?
A sudden breeze slipped past, stirring the fine hairs on his neck. He turned instinctively, eyes sharp. There — deeper in the forest, a faint trail of trampled grass twisted through a patch of brambles. His pulse quickened.
He took a cautious step forward, his hand tightening on his sword hilt. Somewhere beyond that trail, he knew, was the final piece of this puzzle.
Finally, through a tangle of brambles and low-hanging branches, he spotted it: a small, shabby hut. Smoke curled from its stone chimney, a thin thread rising against the canopy. There were no corrupted tree wraiths guarding it this time. No broken beams or shattered windows. Just a quiet, almost welcoming silence.
Activating [Disguise], Tyler melded into the surroundings, shifting into a moss-covered rock and creeping forward inch by inch. His heartbeat echoed in his ears, but there was no sign of traps or sentries.
At the threshold, he shifted back to human form and slipped inside. The hut was surprisingly clean. Two narrow beds. A wooden table set for two, plates of half-eaten fruit and bread still on top. Tyler’s eyes darted around, searching for any clue.
A creak behind him.
He spun, but too late.
A cloaked figure barrelled into him, ramming his shoulder into Tyler’s chest and sending them both crashing against the far wall. Tyler grunted, his armour plates shrieking against the wood.
The figure scrambled back up, blade glinting, but their movements were sluggish, untrained. Tyler sidestepped easily.
“You’re not a trained fighter,” he muttered. “Then why ambush me?”
[Activated Skill: Forcepush]
A blast of concussive force hurled the attacker across the room, smashing them into the opposite wall. Tyler followed up swiftly.
[Activated Skill: Spider Web]
Sticky threads snapped outward, wrapping the figure in a shimmering cocoon against the floorboards.
Tyler stepped forward, eyes sharp. “Where is the prince?”
No answer. The figure’s head lolled to the side, unconscious.
“Hey! Wake up,” Tyler snapped, lightly tapping the captive’s cheek. “I didn’t hit you that hard. Get up, I don’t have all day—”
A sudden crash. Logs spilled from a firewood basket.
Tyler jerked around, catching a blur of motion — a second cloaked figure diving toward him, blade gleaming under the flickering lantern light.
“HOW DAAAARE YOU HURT THE PRINCE?!”
The scream split the air as the newcomer lunged with breathtaking speed, eyes burning with murderous resolve.