As Remoran stood before the court, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread and unease. The room was dimly lit, with high ceilings and ornate tapestries hanging from the walls. A large wooden table sat at the center of the room, surrounded by chairs for the judges and the jury.

The prosecutor, a tall and stern-looking man, stood at the front of the room. "Remoran, you stand accused of the murder of Keth," he declared. "How do you plead?"

Remoran took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "Not guilty," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

The trial lasted for several hours, with witness after witness taking the stand to testify against Remoran. But no matter what was said, no matter how hard the prosecutor tried, there was no concrete evidence linking Remoran to Keth's death.

Finally, the judge turned to Remoran. "After careful consideration of the evidence presented, we find you not guilty of any wrongdoing," he declared.

As he stepped out of the courthouse, he expected to feel a sense of relief, a weight lifted from his shoulders. But instead, he felt only darkness and suspicion.

Orkinder whispered to him, filling his mind with doubts and fears. "They may have found you not guilty, but they still suspect you," the sword hissed. "You are not safe here."

Remoran knew that Orkinder was right. He felt eyes on him wherever he went, felt the weight of suspicion and mistrust pressing down on him. He couldn't escape the feeling that something was not right, that there was something more going on beneath the surface.

He tried to talk to his adoptive father, Demoris, about his suspicions, but he found himself unable to trust even the man who had raised him. Orkinder's voice echoed in his mind, telling him that Demoris was hiding something, that he couldn't be trusted since it was ultimately him who changed his tournament issued sword with his actual sword.

One day, as they sat together in the living room, Demoris looked over at Remoran. "I'm proud of you," he said, his voice soft and gentle. "You've been through so much, and yet you've emerged stronger and more determined than ever."

Remoran felt a surge of anger and suspicion rise within him. Was this just another ploy, another way for Demoris to manipulate him? He looked at his father, studying his face for any sign of deception.

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But all he saw was kindness and love. He saw the man who had taken him in and raised him as his own, who had given him a home and a family when he had none.

He felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he realized how much suspicion and mistrust had embedded itself in his mind. He knew that he needed to break free, to find a way to rid himself of the darkness that was clouding his mind.

And so, Remoran began to scheme. He knew that he couldn't stay in Sharil, not with the constant suspicion and mistrust that surrounded him. He needed to find a way out, a way to escape the darkness that was closing in on him.

He spent days planning his leave, gathering supplies, and studying the terrain around Sharil. He knew that the wilds outside of town were his only hope, the only place where he could find solace and peace come what may.

As he prepared to leave, he knew that he was leaving everything behind, his home, his family, and everything he had ever known. But he also knew that he couldn't stay, that he needed to find a way to break free of the darkness that was consuming him.

Orkinder whispered to him, urging him on, promising him power and strength beyond his wildest dreams. He knew that he was taking a risk, that the sword was leading him down a dangerous path. But he also knew that he had no choice, that he needed to follow the sword's power to find his path.

Remoran sat at his desk, a piece of parchment and a quill in front of him. He had been trying to find the right words to say to his adoptive father, Demoris, for what felt like hours. He wanted to explain why he was leaving, to make him understand that he needed to find his own path, his own way in the world.

Finally, he picked up the quill and began to write.

"Dear Demoris,

I hope this letter finds you well. I want to start by thanking you for everything you've done for me. You took me in when no one else would, and you gave me a chance at a better life. I will always be grateful for that.

But I have to leave. I can't stay here in Sharil, surrounded by suspicion and distrust. I need to find my own path, to discover who I truly am and what I'm capable of. I hope you can understand that.

Please don't try to come after me. I need to do this on my own. But know that I will always remember the kindness you showed me, and I will always be your son, no matter where I go or what I do.

Take care of yourself, Demoris. I will miss you.

Sincerely,

Remoran"

He folded the parchment and sealed it with wax, then left it on the desk for Demoris to find. He knew that it would be hard for his father to accept his leaving, but he also knew that it was the right thing to do.

He picked up his sword, Orkinder, and slung it over his shoulder. He took a deep breath and walked out of his home.

And so, Remoran set out into the wilds, his heart heavy with the weight of suspicion and mistrust. But he also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose that he had not felt in a long time. He knew that he was on a path that would lead him to his true destiny, no matter the cost.