Chapter 4: The Collapse of Trust
Alaric felt the walls of his life closing in around him. The accusations from the royal treasury had circulated faster than he could have expected. Within days, the murmurs had reached every corner of the realm, corrupting the minds of individuals he had once trusted. No longer was Alaric Valemont perceived as the noble heir, the great tactician who had earned his place at the head of his family. Instead, the shadow of mistrust hovered over him, casting him as a thief and a traitor to the kingdom.
He spent every waking second attempting to undo the harm. His advisors, the ones who hadn't already distanced themselves from him, worked feverishly to find the gaps in Edwin's falsified evidence. But it was no use. The paperwork had been masterfully faked, and the witnesses were all paid off, loyal only to their new master—Edwin. It seemed like wherever Alaric turned, doors were closed to him. The nobility who had formerly respected him now shunned him, unwilling to associate with a man whose name was soiled by scandal.
The worst of it, however, was not the murmurs or the loss of respect. It was the abandonment of his family. Alaric had expected resistance from some of his relatives—particularly those who had never quite accepted his authority. But the pace with which his family distanced themselves from him was more than he could bear.
He sought an audience with his father, expecting that even in his frail state, Lord Valemont would see reason, would stand by his son's side in the face of these charges. But when Alaric entered his father's chambers, he found only frigid indifference. His father, once a pillar of strength and knowledge, now hardly had the stamina to sit up in bed. And yet, even in his infirmity, the disappointment in his eyes was clear.
"You've brought shame to this family, Alaric," his father remarked, his voice weak but keen. "The name Valemont is being dragged through the mud because of your actions. How could you undermine the faith of the crown like this?"
Alaric's heart fell. "Father, you know me. You know I would never take from the treasury. This is Edwin's doing. He's framing me. I need your support—our family's support—if I'm going to prove my innocence."
But his father shook his head, his visage darkening. "Innocence? How can you speak of innocence when the evidence is given out so clearly? The court will not listen to excuses. They demand explanations, and all we have are accusations of theft related to your name."
"I swear to you," Alaric continued, his voice quivering with rage, "I have done nothing wrong. This is a plot—a strategy to take me of my birthright. Edwin is behind this."
"Edwin?" His father's brow wrinkled. "You would blame your cousin for this? He has been nothing but faithful to this family while you… you have shamed us."
Alaric took a step back, astonished by his father's comments. How could his father not see what was happening? How could he be so naive to Edwin's manipulation? The treachery wounded deeper than Alaric had expected.
"Father, please, you must listen—"
But Lord Valemont waved his hand dismissively. "Enough, Alaric. You've already done enough damage. I will not let you cause additional devastation to this family. Until you can clear your name, you are no longer welcome here."
The remarks were like a punch to the gut. Alaric remained there, transfixed, as the knowledge settled in. His own father had cast him away. He had no allies left inside the family. His father, the one guy he had always assumed would stand by him, had abandoned him to face the storm alone.
Without another comment, Alaric turned and exited the chamber, his steps heavy with the weight of his father's rejection. He walked through the magnificent halls of the estate, hallways that had once been his home, now foreign to him. The servants avoided his gaze, the few surviving supporters offering only fleeting nods before scurrying away. Alaric felt the coldness penetrate into his bones as he understood just how secluded he had become.
His thoughts moved to Marielle, his fiancée. Surely, she would stand by him. Their love had been powerful, their tie unbreakable—or so he had imagined. Alaric hastened to locate her, eager for any kind of support, for someone to believe him. He spotted her in the grounds, sitting by the fountain where they had shared so many moments together. For a brief moment, a flicker of hope flared in his chest.
"Marielle," he called, his voice gentle but urgent.
She turned, her face pallid, her eyes already filled with a response he dreaded. She rose slowly, her motions delicate, as if scared to go too close.
"Alaric," she muttered, her voice filled with trepidation.
"I need you," he said, reducing the distance between them. "You know me better than anyone. You know I would never do what they're accusing me of."
Marielle turned aside, her hands squeezing together uncomfortably. "I... I don't know, Alaric. The evidence, the rumors... everyone's talking. My father, he's—"
"I don't care what your father thinks," Alaric interrupted, his voice rising in desperation. "This is between us. Do you believe me?"
Her quiet was deafening. When she eventually spoke, her words were barely a whisper. "I can't, Alaric. I don't know what to trust anymore. My family... they don't want me involved in this. They don't want me tied to someone who—"
"Who what?" Alaric's voice cracked, his heart shattering with every word she whispered.
"Who might be a traitor," she continued, her voice quivering.
Alaric staggered back, as if her words had literally hurt him. Marielle, the lady he had planned to marry, the woman who had once pledged to be by his side through anything, was abandoning him. She couldn't even look him in the eye.
"I'm sorry," she muttered, her voice thick with sorrow. "I have to think of my family."
Alaric glanced at her, the lady he had once thought would be his forever. The betrayal wounded worse than any wound he had ever sustained in fighting. With a heavy heart, he turned and walked away, the sting of rejection scorching through him.
As he exited the gardens, he recognized the hard truth: he was alone. His family had abandoned him, and now, even the woman he loved had turned her back on him. Edwin's strategy had worked wonderfully, and Alaric had no allies left to help him prove his innocence.
But even as sadness pulled at him, a new fire began to flare deep within his chest. He would not go down without a struggle. Edwin might have won the opening round, but Alaric was not defeated. He would find a way to expose his cousin's falsehoods, even if it cost him everything.