Grand Court Hall – Sol-Regis Palace. 09:00 AM.
The ten-ter-high mahogany gates opened slowly with a dramatic creaaak.
Hundreds of nobles sitting in the spectator stands turned their heads in unison. They wore bright, colorful outfits, full of frills, thick powdered wigs, and feather fans. They had co to watch the "Hillbillies from the North" beg for rcy.
But what entered silenced them all.
House Sudrath.
They were dressed in All Black.
Not mourning black, but modern formal black.
Duke Lucian led at the front in a black military suit adorned with gold buttons, sans the tacky fur cloak.
Duchess Aurelia walked beside him, elegant in a form-fitting black dress and a small fascinator hat.
Sir Rianor, Sir Roland, and Lady Rhea walked behind with synchronized, firm steps.
"Crazy..." whispered a young noble daughter in the front row. "They look... sharp."
They walked to the center of the room, standing tall before the throne.
There sat King Aethelgard IV. An old man who looked tired and bored, his eyes half-closed.
However, beside him stood Grand Chancellor Morvath, holding a scepter of power with a thin, disdainful smile.
"Defendant, Duke Lucian Sudrath," the Chief Justice’s voice echoed. "You are accused of First-Degree War Cris: The massacre of 3,000 House Valerius troops using unchivalrous thods, and the use of illegal Black Magic. How do you plead?"
Lucian did not answer. He simply turned to his right.
"My son will speak."
Sir Roland stepped forward.
He bowed respectfully to the King (a perfect 45-degree angle), then to the Judge, then smiled sweetly at the audience.
"Your Majesty," Roland’s voice was clear, projecting across the room without needing to shout. "My na is Roland Sudrath. I am not here to defend myself. I am here to clear up... a misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding?!" shouted the Prosecutor, Lord Malakar (Morvath’s lackey). "Three thousand n died in an instant! Their bodies were blown to pieces! Eyewitnesses saw the ground explode! If that isn’t Black Magic, then what is?!"
Roland looked at the Prosecutor calmly. "Lord Malakar, have you ever seen fireworks?"
"Fire... works?"
"Black powder from the East. Sold freely in markets for celebrations," Roland walked casually, putting his hands in his trouser pockets (a gesture considered very cool and rebellious by the young ladies). "We in the North are miners. We use that powder to break rocks. Is it wrong if we use it to break the formation of enemies attacking our ho?"
"That... that is still unchivalrous!" Malakar argued. "Knights fight sword against sword!"
Roland chuckled. A mocking laugh.
"Unchivalrous, you say?"
Roland turned to face the audience.
"Ladies and gentlen. Let’s do the math. House Valerius ca with 3,500 n, complete with Heavy Cavalry and Three Trebuchet Siege Engines."
Roland pointed to his family.
"We... were only 90 people. And we were led by a Father who wanted to protect his wife and his youngest child who is barely 10 years old."
Silence fell. The narrative of "Small Family vs. Evil Giant" began to take shape.
"If 3,500 fully ard n lost against 90 farrs..." Roland stared sharply at Duke Varkas sitting in the stands (whose face was beet red).
"...Then the question isn’t ’Did Sudrath Cheat?’, but rather ’How Incompetent is House Valerius?’"
GASP.
The audience gasped. Roland had just insulted Duke Varkas in front of the King.
Varkas stood up, furious. "YOU INSOLENT BRAT!"
"Sit down, Varkas," the King’s voice was quiet but absolute. Varkas was forced to sit back down, breathing heavily.
"Continue," the King ordered, his eyes starting to look interested. No longer sleepy.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Roland nodded.
"Regarding the ’Massacre’ charge," Roland continued. "Royal Law Article 5 Section 1 states: Every Noble has the right to defend their territory from unauthorized invasion by any ans necessary."
Sir Rianor stepped forward slightly, handing a thick docunt to Roland.
"This," Roland held up the docunt. "Is an invalid declaration of war from Valerius. And this..." Roland held up another piece of paper (the debt receipt Rianor had torn long ago). "...Is proof of our lawful debt repaynt."
Roland walked closer to Morvath’s table.
"They attacked us after we paid the debt. That wasn’t debt collection. That was Robbery."
Roland locked eyes with Morvath.
"So, Your Majesty. If I kill a robber who enters my ho to rape my sister and kill my little brother... am I a criminal? Or am I a Hero?"
Total silence.
Roland’s argunt was irrefutable. He wrapped brutal violence in the logic of "Self-Defense" and "Family Sentint."
Morvath tapped his finger on the table. He knew he had lost this round. If he forced a punishnt on Sudrath, the King would look like he was defending a defeated robber.
"Enough," said King Aethelgard IV.
The King stood up slowly. He looked at Duke Lucian.
"Duke Lucian. Your son has a sharp tongue. Sharper than your sword, it seems."
"He inherited his mother’s intelligence, Your Majesty," Lucian replied humbly.
"The charge of Black Magic is dismissed due to lack of evidence," the King decided. "The charge of Massacre... is ruled as Self-Defense."
BANG. The gavel struck.
Cheers (especially from Varkas’s political rivals) erupted.
"BUT," the King raised a hand. "You still caused chaos in the North. As a fine... Duke Lucian, you must surrender 20% of your iron mine yield next year to the Kingdom."
Rianor smiled faintly. Just iron? Not Mithril? Safe.
"We accept with pleasure, Your Majesty," Lucian replied.
The court adjourned.
The Sudrath Family won by a landslide.
Palace Corridor – Post-Trial.
As they walked out, surrounded by admiring gazes, Grand Chancellor Morvath intercepted them.
Behind him stood two guards in black robes with an aura similar to Assassins.
"Good show, Kid," Morvath said to Roland. His voice was like a snake’s hiss.
"Thanks, Grandpa," Roland replied casually (deliberately calling him Grandpa to annoy him). "My dad taught ."
Morvath looked at Rianor.
"But don’t think you’ve won. This was just a warm-up. You might escape human laws... but in this Capital, accidents happen often."
Morvath leaned his face closer to Rianor.
"I know what you found in that cave. And I will get it."
Rianor didn’t back down. He adjusted his (imaginary) glasses.
"Go ahead and try, Mr. Chancellor. But be careful... the floors in our house are a bit slippery."
Morvath snorted, then walked away.
Once Morvath was far enough, Roland’s legs went jelly, and he leaned against a marble pillar.
"Damn, my legs were shaking the whole ti," Roland whispered. "I thought I was going to be beheaded on the spot."
"Your acting was Oscar-worthy, Lan," Rhea praised. "Now, get ready for Round Two."
"Round Two?" Roland asked.
Aurelia pointed toward the palace ballroom being decorated.
"Tonight. The Prince’s Birthday Party."
"In court, we won legally," Aurelia said, her eyes shining ambitiously. "Tonight, we must win Socially. We have to find allies, find investors, and..."
Aurelia glanced at Rhea.
"...Rhea has to make Prince Cedric regret his entire life for dumping her."
Rhea smirked, twirling a dagger beneath her gown.
"Relax, Mom. I’m going to be his most beautiful dream and his worst nightmare tonight."
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