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The problem is that even after those ten years you still refuse to prove your claims of originality. When you lie once, no amount of time spent ducking from the keen pitch-forks of the community's stalwart watchmen will help 'your word' tip these scales in your favour.
Face the audit or stand the rumours. It is a sorry state self-selected, but no unfair fate to any of ye, for though the tyrant be Vryce, his underlings have well copied him.
You see a man beat a very young girl, and he sees you, indeed, and grabbing the girl, flees into his manor house. Alarmed, you run back to your home town and alarm the militia, who follow you as you lead them to the offender's lands. He refuses to let any past his fortified and trapped yard, but shouts instead from a window that the girl is alright. Meanwhile, rumours spread from your home town to neighbouring lands--tales of this evil man--and there is much grinding of teeth and sewing of war-banners. A siege is laid against one border of the manor, and the angry folk sneer at the friends of the man, who still continue to trade with him despite all.
Ten years pass and the man comes out, but his look darkens as he sees that, though he still has his friends, his reputation is ruined. He repeats himself: "The girl is fine!" he says, but the crowd, watching him from behind a tremendous array of long pikes and drawn bows, shall have none of that until they see her for themselves.
Yeah, screw them.
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