PART 1 — THE ROYAL GUARD WHO BROKE THE KING’S LIE

The throne hall fell silent when the Royal Guard knelt.

Not to the king.

To the child.

The boy stood barefoot on the white marble floor, swallowed by a torn brown cloak, his knees shaking beneath him. He could not have been more than ten. The nobles had laughed when the soldiers dragged him in for stealing bread from the palace kitchens.

King Varric leaned back on the golden throne, smiling cruelly.

“Look at him,” he said. “A rat with royal hunger.”

The boy lowered his eyes.

Then Captain Cedric Vale, commander of the Royal Guard, saw the mark on the child’s wrist.

A pale crescent birthmark.

His sword slipped from his hand and struck the floor with a sound that echoed like thunder.

The laughter died.

Cedric stepped forward slowly, his face turning white. Then, in front of the entire kingdom, he dropped to one knee.

“Your Majesty…” he whispered, voice breaking. “Forgive us.”

King Varric shot to his

feet.

“What did you call him?”

The boy stared at the kneeling guard, too frightened to speak.

Behind the throne, old Priest Marcell clutched a forbidden royal record book and backed toward the brazier.

Queen Elara covered her mouth.

Cedric lifted his trembling eyes.

“That child is not a thief,” he said. “He is Prince Lucien, son of the murdered King Edmund. The true heir of this kingdom.”

And then every guard in the hall lowered his spear.