King Zeriel leaned forward on his throne and pinned Ragnar with his gaze. His eyes were a warm brown, the same shade Ragnar saw every morning when he looked into a mirror.
A herald stepped forward, his voice ringing with rehearsed poise.
"Prince Ragnar of House Acheron, bastard son of His Majesty, King Zeriel, has been called before this court today to answer charges of high treason against the crown," he announced, projecting his voice to the far corners of the room. "As you all may know, several rebel factions have arisen in Westeria following our victory over the late king. They harbor the futile desire of one day expunging our forces from their land."
The herald turned to face Ragnar, parchment clenched in his hands. "The charges against you are as follows: conspiring with foreign powers, trading military secrets with the enemy, and actively funding the opposition in Westeria against your king. How do you answer?"
