Seren's POV - Capital, Ravencrest Publishing House, Early Morning

The third article lay before her, each word a carefully placed explosive. "The Noble Friend" would crack the foundation of everything.

Lord Vaerin Veritas did exist—Academy records confirm his enrollment, graduation with honors, and friendship with a common-born student listed only as "D." Tournament records show them as rivals. Military dispatches place them together through the entire Demon War. Not commander and subordinate, but equals. Brothers in arms.

Most damning: Multiple witness accounts describe Saint Vaerin returning to the capital alone, claiming victory over the Demon King. He was celebrated for exactly seven days before departing for the Mountains of Calfont, claiming he needed to "ensure the seal held." He never returned. The Veritas family declared him ascended to sainthood, but they never produced a body.

She'd found it in Academy archives that predated the Church's influence, cross-referenced with Veritas family genealogies that Benedict had somehow acquired. The Church had rewritten history but couldn't erase every record, especially ones held by the Empire's most powerful families.

"This proves they were friends," Benedict said from behind her, reading over her shoulder. "Commander D. and Saint Vaerin—not enemies but companions. The Church's entire narrative falls apart."

"More than that." Seren dipped her pen. "It proves the Veritas family knows the truth. They've always known their ancestor didn't kill the Demon King. Yet they've stayed silent for five centuries."

"Perhaps they had reasons—"

A knock at the door interrupted them. Three sharp raps, pause, two more. Benedict's emergency signal.

Benedict moved quickly to the door, peering through the peephole. His face paled.

"We have a problem."

"Church?"

"No. My contact at the merchant's guild." He opened the door to reveal a nervous man in expensive but discrete clothing. "Roland, what—"

"They're here," Roland wheezed, clearly having run. "Lord Avian Veritas and another noble. They're asking questions about printing operations. Showing gold. Lots of gold."

Seren's blood chilled. The Veritas heir himself, hunting for her.

"How long?"

"Started an hour ago at the Guildmaster's office. They're working through the merchant quarter systematically." Roland wrung his hands. "They don't seem to know about you specifically, but they're asking about large printing operations, unusual paper purchases, mass distribution networks."

"The Veritas heir," Seren said slowly. "Of course he'd come personally. His family's lies are being exposed."

Benedict was already moving, gathering critical documents. "We need to relocate. Now."

"No." Seren stood, mind racing. "If we run now, we lose everything. The printing setup, the distribution network. And he'll just keep hunting."

"Then what?"

"We continue working. Finish the article. Get it distributed before they find us." She turned to Roland. "How many printing houses are they checking?"

"All of them, but methodically. North to south through the merchant quarter."

"And we're in the eastern quarter. That gives us maybe six hours." She looked at Benedict. "Can we print and distribute in six?"

"If we cut quality, use the emergency network... maybe. But it's risky."

"Everything's risky now." She returned to her desk, pen flying across paper. "Roland, go back. Keep track of their movements. Send word when they're three streets away."

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"This is insane," Roland protested. "The Veritas heir isn't just some noble brat. He's—"

"I know what he is." Seren's voice carried iron. "The youngest to ever win the heir trials. Grandmaster rank at fifteen. The Church tried to chain him and he broke free. I know exactly how dangerous he is."

"Then why—"

"Because someone needs to stand up to them. The Veritas family has protected this lie for five centuries. They've built their entire power structure on their ancestor's false glory." She sealed the finished pages. "Benedict, start printing. Maximum run."

Avian's POV - Capital, Merchant Quarter

The seventh printing house was another dead end. Legal operation, proper permits, nothing more subversive than romance novels about nobles falling for commoners.

"This is taking too long," Kai muttered as they exited into afternoon sunlight. "We're being too obvious. Word's spreading that we're looking."

"Good. I want her to know we're coming."

"That seems counterproductive if we want to catch her."

"We're not trying to catch her. We're herding her." Avian studied the city layout he'd memorized. "She's smart. She knows we're checking printing houses north to south. So she's either in the eastern quarter where we haven't looked yet, or she's in the southern quarter assuming we won't double back."

"Eastern quarter's mostly residential."

"With three printing houses that specialize in academic texts. Perfect cover for someone printing 'historical documents.'" Avian turned east. "We check the merchant finances first. Find who's been buying unusual amounts of paper and ink."

They found the merchant's guild in controlled chaos. Dozens of traders negotiating, arguing, occasionally threatening each other with creative bankruptcy. The guildmaster's secretary, a thin man who looked like he subsisted entirely on anxiety, barely glanced at their credentials.

"Lord Veritas. How may the guild assist?"

"Purchase records for printing supplies. Last month. All major buyers."

"That's... that's quite a request. Privacy of guild members—"

Kai placed a pouch on the desk. It made the distinctive clink of too much gold.

"Privacy is negotiable," Kai said pleasantly.

The secretary's eyes widened. "I'll... fetch those records immediately."

Twenty minutes later, they had three names. Two were established newspapers. The third was interesting.

"Ravencrest Publishing," Kai read. "Purchased enough paper for a hundred thousand copies of something. That's not commercial printing. That's mass distribution."

"Benedict Ravencrest. Minor noble family, mostly fallen from grace." Avian smiled coldly. "Address?"

"Eastern quarter. Three streets from the Academy's capital embassy." Kai folded the paper. "Could be coincidence."

"There are no coincidences. Only patterns we haven't recognized yet." Avian stood. "We go slow. I want her to see us coming. Give her time to decide—run or talk."

"And if she chooses violence?"

"Then we improvise."

They left through the guild's main entrance, making no effort to hide their destination. Let the whisper network do its job. Let her know the hunt was ending.

The eastern quarter's residential streets were quieter than the merchant district, old money discretion replacing new money ostentation. Ravencrest Publishing occupied a narrow building squeezed between larger estates, trying to maintain dignity despite obvious poverty.

"Guards?" Kai observed the subtle watchers on nearby corners.

"Informants. They're not fighters." Avian approached the front door. "She knows we're here."

"Could be a trap."

"Could be. But I don't think she's the trap type. Too angry for subtlety."

Avian knocked. Three solid raps that echoed in the narrow street.

Footsteps inside. Hesitation. Then the door opened to reveal a middle-aged man with ink-stained fingers and the kind of exhaustion that came from lost causes.

"Lord Veritas," Benedict Ravencrest said without surprise. "I wondered when you'd arrive."

"Mr. Ravencrest. We need to discuss your recent publishing ventures."

"I publish many things. Romance novels, cookbooks, the occasional theological debate—"

"And historical revelations that are destabilizing the Empire."

Benedict's smile was tired but defiant. "Truth tends to be destabilizing. That's how you know it's truth."

"May we come in?"

"That depends. Are you here as Lord Veritas, heir to a lying legacy? Or as someone who might actually want to hear what we have to say?"

Avian met his gaze directly. "I'm here as someone who knows exactly how much truth can cost. And who's willing to discuss the price."

Benedict studied him for a long moment. Then stepped aside.

"Then by all means, Lord Veritas. Enter. Let's discuss the price of truth."

Behind him, in the shadows of the entrance hall, Avian caught a glimpse of movement. Female, young, watching from the darkness.

Found you.

The door closed behind them with the weight of finality. Whatever happened next, there was no going back.

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