The lie reached Nandivana before the army did.
It rode on river barges, crept through caravans, and settled into taverns and temples alike—soft-spoken at first, then louder with every retelling.
By the third day after the river calmed, the story had changed.
The Ashkiran had not saved the city.He had caused the chaos to prove his power.The wolf was not a guardian, but a demon in disguise.The river had been bent—not healed.
Arjun heard none of it directly.
That, somehow, made it worse.
He felt it in the way servants hesitated.In the way guards' grips tightened.In the way prayers grew sharper, desperate.
Blade sensed it too.
"Pack uneasy," he murmured as they crossed the courtyard."Smells like doubt."
Arjun nodded. "Doubt spreads faster than fear."
Tara walked beside him, posture straight, expression carefully neutral. She had read the reports. So had the king.
"They're not random," she said quietly. "These rumors carry structure. Phrases repeat. Fears are guided."
Vedanth joined them near the council steps. "Cult work," he confirmed. "But not only theirs."
Arjun frowned. "Rajyavardhan."
Vedanth inclined his head. "Influence prefers distance. Lies do not require armies."
As if summoned by the words, a trumpet sounded from the outer gate.
Clear. Formal. Public.
Tara stiffened. "That's a challenge call."
Arjun's pulse spiked. "From who?"
Krish's voice carried from behind them. "From someone who wants an audience."
The outer plaza filled quickly.
People gathered on rooftops, walls, balconies—drawn by curiosity sharpened with unease.
At the center stood a single figure in ceremonial armor—polished steel etched with crimson lines. A banner fluttered behind him bearing the sigil of Rajyavardhan.
A champion.
He planted his spear into the stone and raised his voice.
"I am Varun of the Crimson Oath," he declared. "Sworn blade of Prince Kaalith."
Murmurs rippled.
"I come not with soldiers," Varun continued, gaze sweeping the crowd, "but with truth."
Arjun felt Tara's hand brush his arm—a warning.
Varun's eyes locked onto him.
"They say an Ashkiran saved this city," the champion said. "But I see no savior."
Gasps.
"I see a boy hiding behind walls and legends."
Rudra cursed under his breath.
Varun smiled thinly.
"Rajyavardhan challenges the Ashkiran to step forward and prove his worth."
The plaza exploded into noise.
"A duel," Krish muttered. "Public. Ritualized."
Arjun's stomach tightened. "If I refuse—"
"They'll say you're afraid," Tara said. "If you accept—"
"They'll try to break you without blood," Vedanth finished.
Varun lifted his spear.
"Not to the death," he called. "To truth. No magic. No wolf. No gods."
Arjun's chest tightened.
No Blade.
Blade snarled.
"Unfair," he growled."I bite him."
Tara knelt slightly, bringing her face level with Arjun's.
"They want to humiliate you," she said quietly. "If you lose, the lie wins. If you win too easily…"
"They'll call it proof of manipulation," Arjun finished.
Her eyes searched his. "You don't have to do this."
He looked at the crowd—at the uncertainty etched into faces that had cheered days ago.
"I do," he said.
The circle was drawn in chalk and steel.
No runes.No enhancements.Just stone and witness.
Varun removed his helm, revealing a scarred face and cold eyes.
Arjun stepped into the ring, breathing slow.
Blade remained at the edge, hackles raised, furious.
"Break rule," Blade warned."You said never alone."
Arjun glanced at him.
"I'm not alone," he whispered. "You're watching."
Blade huffed, grudging.
Tara stood just beyond the ring, hands clenched, jaw tight.
The horn sounded.
Varun moved instantly—fast, disciplined, spear darting like a serpent.
Arjun barely avoided the first thrust.
Stone scraped skin.
The crowd roared.
Varun pressed the attack, forcing Arjun back step by step.
"No power now," Varun said coolly. "Let's see what remains."
Arjun ducked a sweep, rolled, came up with a bruised shoulder.
Between, he reminded himself.
Not strength.
Timing.
Varun overextended—just slightly.
Arjun stepped inside the spear's arc and struck Varun's wrist with the heel of his palm.
The spear clattered to the ground.
A beat of stunned silence.
Varun recovered quickly, launching a kick that sent Arjun skidding across stone.
Pain flared—but clarity followed.
They circled.
Varun feinted high.
Arjun read it this time—slid low, hooked Varun's leg, and drove a shoulder into his center.
They crashed to the ground.
The crowd gasped.
Varun scrambled up, rage flickering.
"You think this proves anything?" he snarled.
Arjun rose too, blood on his lip.
"No," he said calmly. "It shows I bleed like anyone else."
Varun lunged barehanded.
Arjun met him head-on.
They exchanged blows—raw, messy, human.
Finally, Varun faltered—breath hitching.
Arjun could have struck again.
He didn't.
He stepped back.
The horn sounded again.
Silence fell.
Varun stared at him—then laughed bitterly.
"Well played," he admitted, raising his hands. "No tricks."
The crowd erupted—some cheering, some stunned into silence.
The lie faltered.
Not dead.
But wounded.
Later, as the plaza emptied, Tara approached Arjun, eyes bright with emotion she didn't try to hide.
"You didn't humiliate him," she said softly. "You respected him."
He shrugged painfully. "Seemed fair."
She shook her head, smiling despite herself.
"That's why they'll fear you."
Blade bounded over.
"Human-fight win," he declared proudly."Still unfair."
Arjun laughed, then winced.
Above them, banners snapped in the wind.
The lie had marched first.
But truth had taken a step forward.
Far beyond the city, Prince Kaalith received the report.
"No magic," the messenger said. "No wolf. The boy held his own."
Kaalith's smile faded.
"Then we escalate," he murmured.
The drums of war had not sounded yet.
But they were being tuned.