The heroes stood in stunned silence, their escape still burning in their lungs, facing the man who claimed to be Minister Brokk, yet had performed a feat of magic far beyond a simple craftsman.
Jai, the first to recover from the shock, bowed respectfully, though confusion etched deep lines onto his face. "Honored Sir, forgive our astonishment. What tragedy forces a Minister of the King to conceal himself in the wilderness? Why this deep cover, and why the sudden shift from your station?"
The man in the straw hat shook his head slowly, his eyes—deep and knowing—fixed on the three youths. He did not immediately answer the question about his hiding. Instead, he pointed to the sleeping dwarf Zayn was still supporting, the dwarf they knew as "Winston."
"I am here to understand and counter the Artifact's influence upon my people," the man stated, his voice carrying the authority of command, not the humility of a craftsman. "I am working on the antidote, the necessary counter-spell to this plague of the mind."
Jai, remembering the dwarf doctor's desperate confession, pressed the point of identity. "Sir, I confess my memory is hazy amidst this chaos, but the man we just rescued—Winston—told us you were kidnapped by Lance and reduced to a broken shell of a man."
A profound, weary sadness washed over the old man's face. "Youngsters, you have entered a labyrinth of deceit. You must discard everything you believe to be true before you can proceed."
James, impatience and tension warring in his gut, stepped forward. "Then speak plainly! What monstrous lie has been woven around us?"
The old man took a deep, shuddering breath, and the next words he spoke struck the three youths like a blinding flash of lightning from a clear sky.
"The first truth you must accept is this: My name is not Brokk. My name is Winston."
The declaration threw Jai, James, and Zayn into a chaotic storm of confusion. Their heads swam.
"Sir," James began, struggling to keep his tone respectful amidst the disbelief. "You must be mistaken. The Minister's name is Brokk. Perhaps the trauma of your capture—which you clearly endured—has caused you to forget your own identity?"
A flicker of sorrow, devoid of offense, crossed the old man's face. "And the second truth is this: The fiend who committed this outrage is not 'Lance.' His real name is Lenard."
Zayn, focusing on the most immediate contradiction, interjected, "But the man who just confessed his deepest trauma—the dwarf—he told us you were Brokk, and that Lance captured you. Why would he weave such a terrible lie?"
The man now known as Winston Fleming directed his gaze to the sleeping dwarf in Zayn's arms—the dwarf they had called "Winston."
"He lied because, he was in the control of the artifact. Because the man you carried, the dwarf who wept a moment ago, is Minister Brokk. And as for me…" He stood taller, a forgotten nobility settling upon his shoulders. "I am Winston Fleming. I am the King of this Linston Kingdom."
Zayn, the Prince in disguise, felt the blood rush from his head. This was an insult to his father's diplomatic system, yet the dwarf's story felt terrifyingly real.
"You are the King?" Zayn whispered, dumbfounded. "Then the Minister—Brokk—lied to us, claiming he was Winston. Why did he deliberately obscure the facts? Why assume your identity as the captured man?"
The King looked down at the unconscious Minister Brokk with a look of profound, almost paternal grief. "Because the Minister you carried, the true Minister Brokk, was indeed the one captured by Lenard. He took my name and also lenard make his character as he wants.
The three young men were reeling, lost in the sudden, shattering realization that the roles of doctor, minister, and even the captured king had been fundamentally reversed.
Winston Fleming, the King, saw their confusion and understood he needed to provide the foundational truth of Linston. He began his harrowing history.
"You must understand the soil this kingdom stands upon. This history began thirty years ago. We were a mere town then, caught in the devastating conflict between the Human and Dwarf Kingdoms. Our neutral status was violated when enemy troops infiltrated our town, wearing the faces of our neighbors, intending to use us as a Trojan Horse to strike the main Dwarf Kingdom."
"After a grueling, bloody investigation, the Dwarf Kingdom, under the rule of King Borin's father, King Gronak Stonehead, finally rooted out the spies. In an act of profound respect and strategic caution, King Gronak declared our small town a Sacred Place, and then elevated it to its own independent Dwarf Kingdom. He instructed us to stand as a self-reliant sentinel."
Winston smiled faintly at the memory of past success. "It was a struggle, but we built our kingdom. Yet, autonomy requires resources. When King Borin ascended the throne after his father's assassination by the rebels, I journeyed to the capital. I laid our kingdom's needs bare. King Borin, a man of his word, honored his father's treaty and formally absorbed us as an autonomous town within his realm, pledging to share resources."
"Our lives became stable, our path smooth. Until one and a half years ago. That is when Lenard struck."
Winston's countenance turned grim, the memories bringing forth fresh pain.
"Lenard, the true leader of this outrage, brought his mercenaries and assaulted my palace. We fought. I am a Tier 6 Master, and Lenard was a formidable Tier 5 Expert. We battled for nearly an entire day. The sheer force of our conflict should have brought the palace and the very ground around us crashing down."
Jai's curiosity, ever sharp, interrupted the King. "Wait! If you fought at such a high Tier, the sound of that battle would have been heard for miles! The townspeople would have been alerted!"
King Winston's eyes narrowed, revealing the genius and the terror of his opponent. "He used a sophisticated Sound Suppression Magic. A barrier was erected around the palace grounds, swallowing every shockwave, every cry, every sound of splintering stone. We fought in a terrible, unnatural silence."
"For twenty-four hours, our energies waned. In the end, my resilience failed, and Lenard—driven by a deep, dark fanaticism—defeated me. He chained me in an underground, hidden prison. I attempted escape time and time again. In one desperate bid for freedom, when my vigilance was at its lowest, Lenard tore out my left eye."
Winston gestured toward his missing eye socket, the fresh scar tissue a grim testament to his ordeal. Jai felt a blinding surge of righteous rage. The raw brutality of the act stoked his desire for immediate, bloody vengeance, but he forced himself to endure the feeling and commanded the King to continue.
"Three months ago, by sheer force of will and a stroke of luck, I finally escaped the abyss," King Winston recounted. "I returned to my city, the Linston I had sacrificed for. But my people... they looked at me with blank, unrecognizing stares. Even my closest guards treated me as a suspicious stranger. Something was profoundly wrong."
"I found Minister Brokk in the town square. He was seated, diligently painting portraits—a humble distraction he used to practice medicine. I called his name, but when he turned, his eyes were clouded. He insisted, 'Minister? Who is the Minister? I am a doctor and now a painter, nothing more.' He had no memory of his title, his duties, or even my name."
The King understood instantly: Lenard's artifact had begun its wicked work.
"Lenard learned of my escape and tracked me down. I managed to avoid a confrontation, fleeing the town. I returned to the capital, desperate to inform King Borin, but I hesitated. If the Shadow Ledger learned that i tried to inform the problem to the king Borin, they would likely slaughter every citizen to prevent the kingdom from rising again. I knew I had to work alone, in the shadows, to find a way to debug the artifact's control and save my people without risking an open war."
He had been alone—a king in exile, haunted by the sight of his Minister painting pictures of his own downfall.
Jai clenched his fists. "King Winston, what is their ultimate objective? Why take this town hostage and inflict such suffering?"
Winston's expression became grim, etched with true terror. "Lenard boasted to me in my prison: His true goal is to resurrect his dead King."
James's eyes widened. "And Linston… why this town for such a ritual?"
The King leaned in, his voice dropping to a dreadful whisper, revealing the full scope of the Shadow Ledger's depravity.
"Lenard is conducting a ritual of blood sacrifice. He intends to murder the population slowly, systematically, and offer their souls to the Death God, known as the Lord of the Silent Hunt. He plans to appease the terrifying deity: Valeron."
The name Valeron—a name of ancient, cold dread—sucked the air from the small chamber. The three young heroes finally understood the true, terrifying scale of the horror: it wasn't just treason; it was an act of worship to a deity of death, using the lives of the innocent as currency.
Now, with the true King and the true Minister revealed, and the terrifying objective of the Shadow Ledger known, the young heroes must act.