Three streets north, gilded letterhead embossed with a royal falcon lay upon Chamberlain Varek's lacquered desk:
BY COMMAND OF HIS MAJESTYA NEWSPAPER OF RECORD SHALL BE ESTABLISHEDTITLE: THE KINGDOM HERALDFREQUENCY: DAILYMANDATE: PRESENT OFFICIAL FACTS OF STATE, UNADORNED
Varek scowled; the fatty jowls under his chain of office quivered. An independent Truth threatened palace narrative. The crown needed its own voice, the king had said—though Aldwin admired Sharath's work, he would not surrender information flow to a cadre of idealistic upstarts.
Within days clerks commandeered an unused mint hall and ordered twin presses from Riverbend (politics bowed to practicality). They lured scribes with triple wages and set strict columns: royal decrees, court appointments, trade tariffs—no commentary. The motto: Certus, Clarus, Ordo—Certain, Clear, Orderly.
Sharath chuckled at the motto's brittle dignity. Over supper with Elina he said, "A controlled paper may backfire. Truth grows wilder when fenced."
"Or people learn to read between lines," she replied, dabbing stew from her lip.
The inaugural Herald emerged in inks of impeccable black, margins wide as palace lawns. In Brookrise, Lady Siana compared both dailies: Truth headlined 'Winter Orphans House Receives Funding Gap Aid'; Herald led with 'His Majesty Opens New Wing of Treasury'. Common readers noted the contrast.
Debate sparked: Which sheet held real priority? The court's immaculate page or the grubby broadside quoting mill workers?
In taverns, two-paper arguments replaced dice disputes. A new job arose: Herald–Truth Conflator, scribes who cross-read papers, penning pamphlets of discrepancies. Varek raged—yet subscription requests poured in, for people craved both perspectives.
Elina predicted synergy: "Competition breeds diligence." And indeed, by spring Truth corrected its harvest story after Herald published updated granary figures; Herald adopted smaller fonts to fit more local notices after Truth's popular town columns. The dance of media had begun.