Reynald Vale.
The name echoed in Lucavion's thoughts with a sharpness that almost amused him.
Reynald Vale…
That is what the world knows him as. The name whispered in hopeful tones by desperate cadets. The name that blooms like a banner across the lips of those who still believe that righteousness comes wrapped in armor rather than intrigue.
A charming illusion, really.
Young. Earnest. Always at the center of every rescue. Every rally. Every quiet comfort offered in candle-lit corners of the academy.
The perfect commoner hero.
But Lucavion had seen enough masks to recognize when one was worn too well.
'Of course… that's not who he really is.'
Seran Velcross.
That was the name buried beneath the skin. The true identity. The Crown Prince's carefully placed seed among the fertile soil of rebellion and class friction.
A counterfeit knight for a counterfeit cause.
