Cold rain fell over the stone streets of the capital.

  The gates of the royal barracks opened with a heavy groan as two armored guards dragged a man across the mud. His armor was dented, his cape torn, and blood mixed with the rain that ran down his face.

  They threw him forward.

  He hit the ground hard.

  Coins scattered across the wet stone.

  A captain stepped forward, looking down at him with disgust.

  “Take it,” the captain said. “Your payment for treason.”

  The knight slowly lifted his head. One side of his face was twisted by an old burn scar — a wound from a war most nobles had only heard about in stories.

  His eyes, however, were calm.

  He did not touch the coins.

  “Treason,” he repeated quietly.

  Around them, soldiers watched in silence.

  Some avoided his gaze.

  Others smirked.

  The captain spoke loudly enough for the entire courtyard to hear.

  “You stand accused of conspiring with enemy forces, abandoning your post during battle, and dishonoring the crown.”

  A murmur spread among the soldiers.

  The knight let out a slow breath.

  He had fought for this kingdom since he was a boy.He had bled for it.Lost friends for it.

  And now—

  He was being discarded like broken steel.

  One of the guards kicked him in the ribs.

  “Pick up the coins and leave, dog,” the guard said.

  The knight slowly pushed himself to his knees.

  Across the courtyard stood a man dressed in noble armor — polished, untouched by battle.

  The man watched with a faint smile.

  The knight recognized that smile.

  It belonged to someone who had always hated him.

  Someone who believed peasants should never wear a knight’s armor.

  Their eyes met.

  For a brief moment, the noble’s expression said everything:

  You never belonged here.

  The knight understood then.

  This had never been about treason.

  It had been decided long before the accusations.

  Another guard threw something at him.

  His sword.

  The bde slid across the wet stone until it stopped near his hand.

  “You may keep that,” the captain said coldly. “A mercy from the crown.”

  A mercy.

  The knight looked at the sword.

  The weapon had protected countless people.

  Saved vilges.

  Killed monsters.

  And yet it could not defend him from lies.

  The captain pointed toward the city gates.

  “You are no longer welcome in the capital.”

  “Leave,” he said.

  “And never return.”

  The rain grew heavier.

  Slowly, the knight stood.

  He picked up the sword.

  Then the coins.

  Not because he needed them.

  But because he understood something important now.

  The kingdom he had served no longer existed.

  Or perhaps—

  It had never existed at all.

  Without another word, he walked toward the gates.

  No one tried to stop him.

  Behind him, ughter echoed across the courtyard.

  But the knight did not turn back.

  As he stepped beyond the walls of the capital, the storm swallowed the road ahead.

  And with it—

  The st piece of the life he once believed in.

  What remained was only a man with a scarred face, a broken past…

  …and a story that had not yet begun.