Summoned Villainess: Rise of an Extra

Despite agreeing to their punishment even though it was uncalled for, she had a feeling something else was about to come, something that was not entirely hers, yet she would have to shoulder, all because of some resemblance and their fear, even though they may deny it. 

Later that day, after the incident in the throne room and the announcement, the crowd had gathered long before the midday sun reached the high bells.

The great plaza before the royal palace swelled with onlookers, commoners, scribes, street vendors, and cloaked nobles hidden among the sea of faces. Even the guards along the walls stood still, shields braced and spears gleaming, eyes trained not on the people but on the raised stone platform built for the ceremony.

Execution square, someone whispered. But there would be no beheading today.

Not yet.

Rinley stood at the center of it all, hands shackled, posture upright. Dressed in a fitted black cloak over simple court-issued garments, she was neither dressed as nobility nor prisoner, neither fully cast out nor embraced. Her half-prosthetic leg shimmered in the sunlight, the runic lines along its surface pulsing faintly beneath the hem of her cloak.

The whispers from the court had followed her into the streets; it was deliberately done by the fear of nobility and her arrival, their mistake, yet desperation of shoving her into the title of a villainess.

She was lost in her thoughts, thinking why they were going to such lengths and why they would not even give her a chance, knowing she was not related to the one they despised, but it wasn't until the herald mounted the platform with his scroll that everything shifted.

He unrolled it with a ceremonial flourish and cleared his throat.

"By decree of the Crown of Valderyn, under the sight of the gods, and in the presence of the people, let it be known…"

Rinley braced herself.

"...that the last traitorous familiar of House deThare, Rinley Serathein deThare, is hereby exiled to the Wastes."

Her breath caught; they said familiar, because they were not sure, if she was actually releated and how could she be? Yet, this was what they were doing, but what also caught her attention was the name.

Serathein?

She didn't recognize the name. Didn't know this version of herself. The blood in her veins didn't thrum with its meaning. But the reaction from the crowd said enough.

The whisper turned to a roar.

"She lives?"

"She is one of them, or is that her?"

"Is she the girl who tried to burn the northern shrines—"

"The one who cursed the Second Prince—"

What?

Rinley's lips parted slightly, her gaze flickering between faces. The platform felt suddenly colder beneath her feet, she had no idea what they were talking about, but clearly, she was being thrust into a character not of her choosing, one they believed she looked like or was.

The herald continued, louder now.

"For crimes against the realm, committed by or related to her bloodline, conspiracy, black craft, and sedition—the villainess Rinley Serathein deThare is stripped of title, lands, and legacy. Her presence within the kingdom is forbidden by divine and royal law. Should she return, the sentence shall be death without trial."

A sharp silence fell.

A villainess.

Her heart thundered behind her ribs, but she did not flinch, did not look away. Instead, she turned her head slowly, letting the crowd look at her. Not wild. Not cruel and most certainly not broken. 

Confused, yes. Stunned. But something inside her had already begun to coil.

This isn't just exile. This was an execution in slow motion and they were using her as a scapegoat for something.

She had been dropped into this world before she could truly die, her true self, seemed to be erasing.

Why?

She had not yet been able to awaken any sort of abilities or get any sort of clues relating to any of this. The night before, she had traced the marks on her leg, felt a strange pull in her blood, but there had been no voice from the past, no flash of understanding. Only a silence thick enough to choke on.

But now?

Now, that silence felt pregnant with a secret too dangerous to name.

She stepped forward, one foot echoing against the stone.

"I wasn't told I was a villain," she said, voice carrying clear across the square. She didn't shout—didn't need to.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"But I suppose it wouldn't be the first time the truth was rewritten."

A noble near the edge flinched. A priestess touched her pendant, ready to stop her from speaking any futher and she could see that.

Rinley turned her head to the queen, who stood under a white canopy across from the platform, the king by her side.

"You all chose to erase me. You turned a girl into a cautionary tale, giving me her skin." Her jaw tensed. "Fine. Let your people believe what they must."

She paused, then let the next words fall like iron:

"But I wonder… what happens when the villain starts writing her own story?"

A sharp silence followed.

And this time, no one dared whisper.

The queen raised one gloved hand, determined to cut her off before she caused confusion among the people within the kingdom, who were clearly listening to what she had to say. "The exile begins now."

At her signal, a group of black-armored guards stepped forward, their emblems unfamiliar to Rinley. Not royal soldiers, mercenaries, perhaps, or the elite wardens of the southern border.

One of them approached and handed her a satchel of supplies. No weapon. They weren't that generous.

The leader, a tall woman with braided gray hair and an old scar cutting through her brow, didn't speak. She simply jerked her head toward the caravan of sand-colored horses waiting at the plaza's edge.

Rinley moved to follow, then paused.

One last glance at the crowd.

One last look at the palace.

Eyes met hers—some full of fear, others of hate, and a precious few glinting with curiosity.

But no pity.

Good.

She turned, the sound of her prosthetic leg striking stone a steady rhythm beneath her.