I Reincarnated as an Extra in a Reverse Harem World-Chapter 86: Echos in the Capital

Alaric did nothing more.

His part was done.

The seed had been planted.

And it was Lord Crydias who moved next.

With the golden seal of the goddess as silent testimony, he mobilized the estate’s stewards and quartermasters. Empty wings of the estate were prepared. Carts were sent to nearby trade posts under the guise of supply movement. And by the second night, the first families from the slums began arriving—quietly, under cover of darkness, just as Alaric had instructed.

Lord Crydias didn’t ask questions. He didn’t need to.

This was an opportunity. And he, a man of vision, seized it with both hands.

The slumfolk were given basic clothing, assigned quarters, offered food. Within days, work was arranged. Some were assigned to kitchens. Others to distribution teams. A few, stronger men and women, were sent to the storage depots that served as the heart of the Crydias food network.

There was no fanfare.

No announcement.

Only movement.

And in movement, lives began to change.

Within a week, murmurs started to ripple through the city.

At first, it was whispers in the marketplaces. Then, in noble courtyards. Then, within temple halls.

"Have you heard of Lord Cedric?"

"The one from the outer districts?"

"He’s helping the slum-born. Feeding them. Housing them."

"But no one knows where he came from..."

The name Lord Cedric became a wind that passed from lips to ears, gaining weight with each telling. Some said he was a noble in disguise. Others claimed he was a forgotten child of the gods. And a few whispered, with trembling awe, that he bore the blessing of Elyssera.

Alaric listened.

He never spoke.

He let the name grow on its own.

He watched as the city, once indifferent to the poor, began to tilt ever so slightly—curious, unsure, unsettled. A single act of mercy, veiled in mystery, had begun shifting the air itself.

And as the days passed, the man behind the name faded from sight...

But the symbol remained.

The golden lily, blooming beneath a radiant sun.

A silent mark that something—someone—was rewriting fate from the shadows.

*****

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✶ I Reincarnated as an Extra ✶

✧ in a Reverse Harem World ✧

⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰

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***** ƒгeewёbnovel.com

The council chamber was not in session—not officially, at least.

But the hall still filled.

Not with scribes or pages, nor with the formal roll-call of nobles called to vote on grain tariffs or riverway levies. No—this was a quieter gathering, the sort that carried no sigils, no proclamations. Only intent.

Seven chairs filled the chamber’s western crescent—each occupied by a noble whose influence ran deeper than the records suggested. House banners were absent. No house crests. Only names, reputations, and whispers that carried weight behind silk curtains.

The eldest among them, Lord Halverin Dreswick, broke the silence.

His voice was soft, but it cut clean through the space like a whetted blade.

"Is it true?"

He asked, eyes heavy beneath folds of time.

"This... Cedric?"

None answered immediately.

It was Lady Nyssara Vellane who finally spoke, crossing one leg over the other with studied poise. Her voice was smooth, cultivated—used to persuasion, not confrontation.

"He’s moving people. Quietly. Slum-born, mostly. Entire families disappearing by nightfall. No records. No registrations through the Guild. But no corpses either. No screams."

She turned her violet-ringed gaze to the others.

"And they’re not fleeing. They’re following."

A murmur stirred in the chamber.

Lord Ruun Tervahl, a broad-shouldered man who held sway over the merchant roads near the southern gates, scoffed.

"A slum warden with a messiah complex? Let him play hero. It won’t last. Give the dogs a bone, they’ll turn on each other before the month ends."

Nyssara arched a brow, not even bothering to respond.

It was Ser Devran Kalthis, youngest of the seven, who spoke next. Despite his youth, he held a seat for a reason—not for wealth, but for the network he commanded from the underground. Rumors were his currency.

"Except... they’re not turning. They’re organizing. Quietly, efficiently. And they speak his name with reverence. Like he’s touched by flame."

A quiet settled.

It was the sort of silence that didn’t need explanation. The kind that came when old powers felt a shift—not a storm yet, but the winds of one.

"Do we know who he is?"

Lord Halverin asked.

Devran shook his head.

"No title. No holdings. No records. The name Cedric doesn’t appear in any noble registry. Not in Velmora. Not in the border provinces. Nothing before this past week."

He leaned back.

"And yet, House Crydias opened its doors to him."

That name landed heavier than Cedric’s had.

House Crydias was not a minor player. Lord Crydias’s reach was wide—discreet, but efficient. Though, because of the recent bad decisions by Lord Crydias. The family suffered some set back. But they rose like a comit again. Food, transport, land. All quiet infrastructure. Not glamorous, but vital.

And now, he was backing a ghost.

Lord Ruun grunted.

"That fool Crydias must be drunk on prophecy. Or coin. Or both."

Nyssara’s lips curled slightly.

"Criteus is many things. A fool is not one of them."

Lord Halverin’s hand touched the table, slow and deliberate.

"And the symbol?"

Another silence.

Devran’s voice dropped low.

"Eyewitnesses say... it glowed. A mark, placed on the hand. All the same. A golden lily under a radiant sun."

That drew all eyes.

Lady Nyssara’s hand twitched, ever so slightly.

"You’re certain?"

Devran nodded once.

"The symbol of the goddess Elyssera."

Tension cracked across the room like frost forming over still water.

That name had not passed these lips in earnest for years. Elyssera —once the centerpiece of devotion in the capital, now a goddess of forgotten altars and unanswered prayers. Her clergy diminished. Her temples hollowed. The divine moved on—or perhaps, it had simply gone silent.

And yet... here it was again.

Alive. Visible.

Claimed.

Halverin sat straighter.

"Divine or not, the people are watching. And believing."

Nyssara frowned.

"That’s what worries me."

"Let them believe!"

Lord Ruun snapped.

"Faith doesn’t build armies."

"No,"

She said, coldly,

"but it builds movements. And those are harder to silence."

They all felt the truth of it.

People who feared for their lives were easy to control. But people who believed—truly believed—became unpredictable. Dangerous. Unyielding.

Lord Halverin exhaled.

"So what do we do?"

Nyssara drummed her fingers along the marble table.

"Nothing. Not yet."

That drew a few glances.

She continued,

"If we act now—strike, slander, suppress—it’ll spread faster. A martyr makes fire. But a mystery..."

She tilted her head,

"a mystery can be watched. Studied."

"Cedric isn’t fighting for power. Not openly. That makes him harder to target. He isn’t demanding tribute or calling banners. He’s feeding peasants."

She paused.

"We let him feed them. For now."

"And if he begins to feed something else?"

Devran asked.

She smiled faintly.

"Then we’ll be ready."

They all sat with that, letting it settle like smoke in the lungs.

The council said no more that day.

But from that moment on, the name Lord Cedric was spoken often behind closed doors—sometimes with interest, sometimes with fear.

Because in a world long ruled by gold and lineage, a man with no name was rising.

And even without a throne, he was starting to move the world.

***

Far from the political whispers and cloaked gatherings, Alaric stood alone in one of the upper chambers of the Crydias estate. Alaric’s mansion.

The room was dimly lit—only a single mana lamp hummed softly in the corner—but he had no need for light.

His eyes were half-lidded, but the world was clear.

From this place, his divine sense extended through every alley, every corridor, every echo of breath across the capital. It blanketed Caerywn like a silent stormfront—gentle, unseen, absolute. He saw the shadows within the Crydias grounds, where the first families now ate in quiet safety. He saw the merchant roads and their restless patrols, saw temple bells sway though no one heard them, and in the west...

He saw them.

Seven nobles.

Gathered in quiet, thinking themselves hidden.

They sat around their polished table with grave expressions and veiled eyes, cloaked not in robes but in the presumption of control. Lord Halverin Dreswick, Lady Nyssara Vellane, Lord Ruun Tervahl, Ser Devran Kalthis, and the others—each one layered in influence, bloodlines, and secrets. Their middle names, their lineages, their ambitions... all open books beneath his divine gaze.

They whispered his name as if it were a puzzle to be solved.

"Lord Cedric..."

They thought themselves clever.

Alaric scoffed.

A quiet, breathless sound—but one edged with contempt.

"Fools who thinks of themselves as smart. Scheming behind doors, like rats arranging silver plates while the house is burning,"

He muttered.

"They believe secrecy gives them strength. That by hiding the truth from each other, they can master what comes."

He stepped closer to the window, overlooking the distant curve of the city skyline. His voice, low and even, held no fury—only inevitability.

"By the time they realize what’s happening,"

He said,

"the whole kingdom will be in chaos. So complete... they won’t even know which front to hold first."

"They’ll grasp at names, at rumors. But the people won’t be listening anymore."

He fell silent again.

The divine sense pulsed outward, reaching deeper into Caerywn’s bones.

From street urchins to guildmasters, from disillusioned guards to lonely midwives—he could feel the shifting current of the city’s spirit. He was not watching a rebellion. He was watching an awakening.

And all of it unfolded while the noble class played chess with phantom pieces.

Let them speak.

Let them watch.

They were already behind.

And he hadn’t even taken his first real step yet.

-To Be Continued