The Chief Judge examined over his spectacles, as his voice echoed through the silent Hall, "Step forward and explain yourself. But be warned, young man,- if your statement is found to be irrelevant or a waste of this court's time, you shall find yourself in a cage alongside the very men you seek to defend."
The stranger did not flinch. He walked toward the center of the Hall with a rhythmic, predatory grace. A smirk played on his lips. There was a fire of pure, absolute confidence that was burning in his dark eyes. His eight companions moved to follow him, but with a casual wave of his hand, he signaled them to stay back. He would face the high court of Veridia alone.
In the front row, Lorian's heart sank into his stomach. He felt a sickening sense of déjà vu- the same dread he had felt in his past life as Adrian, sitting before an exam paper where not a single question matched what he had prepared for. It was the crushing weight of total helplessness. He forced his eyes toward his father, expecting to see a look of assurance. Instead, he saw Elmsworth wearing a strange, faint smile. It was a look of grim amusement that puzzled Lorian more than the intruder himself.
"Identify yourself," the Judge commanded as the man reached the foot of the podium.
The man stood tall, adjusting his fine, dark doublet, "I am Duke Azgar Zorat, of the Nagash Duchy. I have traveled far to formally request that the Court of Veridia release Baron Bisfront Bistro into my custody before any final judgment is rendered."
A roar of whispers erupted, making the Hall of Pillars sound like a disturbed beehive. While the commoners looked at each other in confusion, the nobles and diplomats turned pale. Anyone who understood the bloody chess board of the continent was well aware of that name. Azgar Zorat was one of the most dangerous men in the Noble Empire of Indoris. He was the infamous 'Noble Viper', the best friend and closest strategist to Prince Ahiran Aghaz, the eldest claimant to the Imperial Crown. It was Azgar's gold and steel that had solidified the Prince's claim into a certainty.
Lorian's mind raced. How had a Duke of the Empire slipped past the borders? How had the city's intelligence network as well as Grisel's spies missed a man of this stature?
Before anyone could answer, the heavy oak doors at the back of the hall creaked open. The sound was like a thunderclap, silencing the room. Through the threshold walked the 'Pearl of Bistro.' Bianca had never looked more beautiful, or, more dangerous. She moved with a slow, graceful poise, flanked by two Bistro guards and two men in plain, nondescript clothing. She walked directly toward Azgar Zorat.
Azgar turned and gave her a deep, courteous bow. It was a common gesture of submission that Lorian noted with growing horror.
"Since the Lady herself has arrived to grace us with her magnificent presence," Azgar chuckled, his voice carrying to every corner of the room, "allow me to announce a piece of joyous news. Your pride, your daughter, Bianca Bistro- the Pearl of Veridia,- is to become the wife of His Imperial Highness, Prince Ahiran Aghaz. She shall be a Princess of the Noble Empire of Indoris."
A silence so absolute fell over the court that it felt like someone had casted a mass petrification spell. The commoners were stunned into stillness; the nobles were paralyzed by the sheer geopolitical weight of the words. The Bistros weren't just fighting a trial in the Hall it appeared, they had already sought an Imperial shield.
"Convey our well-wishes to the Prince on his nuptials," the Chief Judge said, his deep voice now trembling slightly, "But you have yet to explain why this court should grant an acquittal for a man found complicit in piracy and slavery."
Azgar acted as if he had been insulted by the question. He spread his arms wide, "Is it not obvious? I am offering you a mercy. I am here to save Veridia from the catastrophic diplomatic blunder of passing judgment on the father-in-law of the future Emperor. To lay a hand on the Baron is to spit in the face of the Empire itself. Do you truly wish to invoke our wrath?"
Azgar began to count on his fingers, his eyes mocking the judges, "You have two options if you proceed. One, Veridia drowns in her own blood under the march of our legions. Two, Veridia drags the other six city-states down into the abyss with her. I am here to offer a third way. Release the Baron into my care. I know his charges,- petty things, really. Confiscate his lands, take his gold, I do not care. But the man and his household belong to the Empire now. As for the other accused in that cage? Hang them for all I care. They are beneath my notice."
To emphasize his point, Azgar pulled a sharp, slender knife from his belt and began to juggle it with casual, insulting skill. The Chief Judge turned a frantic gaze toward Elmsworth, looking for a lifeline.
Elmsworth nodded slowly and stood up. The room went silent.
"And you must be…" Azgar said, watching Elmsworth with a look of feigned curiosity.
"Elmsworth Throne. Lord of Veridia, the Great Jewel of the East Coast," Elmsworth replied in his steady and cold voice.
"Ah, the local master," Azgar said with a sneer, "So, may we take our honored guest now? Or do you wish to continue this… whatever sham of justice this is?"
Elmsworth let out a low, dark chuckle that echoed off the pillars, "You have walked into my home, belittled our laws, and obstructed our justice. If I let you leave this room alive and unscathed, that would be a greater favor than the Empire deserves. Do not throw your weight around where it has no value, Duke. You are in Veridia. My Veridia. And you dare to mock us?"
Elmsworth stepped forward, his eyes flashing with a fire that seemed to physically push Azgar back, "Forget the Bistro. If I let you live through the hour, you should thank whatever gods you serve. We Veridians stopped bowing to the Ivory Throne generations ago! Your threats are hollow echoes. We have defeated your Empire before, and by the Heavens, we can do it again!"
The gallery erupted. The commoners stood and cheered, a deafening roar of applause that shook the very foundation of the Hall. Even the foreign dignitaries clapped, though their eyes remained filled with a terrifying realization of what this defiance meant.
Azgar's face twisted into a mask of fuming rage. But before he could speak, Bianca stepped between the two men. She looked at Elmsworth with an expression of distress and sorrow.
"Oh, Great Lord," Bianca pleaded in her sweet and melodic voice, "I know my father has been found guilty in your investigations. But is his life worth a war? We are, after all, a city of merchants and traders. Think of the cost- the plummeting business, the thousands of human lives lost in a conflict with the Mighty Empire. Is it not a better deal to simply take our lands and let us leave? Why choose blood when you can choose gold?"
She paused, gauging the room, her eyes landing on Lorian for a brief, cold second before returning to his father, "With my marriage, the bond between the Empire and Veridia could be a golden age of trade. I humbly request you, oh Great Lord;- do not let emotion cloud your judgment. Think of what is the better bargain."
"You speak of trade, child?" Elmsworth's voice dropped to a terrifying whisper before rising into a roar of wrath, "That is why your family could never reach the heights you lusted for! You calculated the cost of grain and gold, but you forgot the cost of our dignity! You would have us bow to the whims of the very Empire our ancestors bled to escape. We might keep our lives, yes. We might keep our wealth. But we would lose our souls. But then, why would I expect a family of slavers to understand the value of a man's honor?"
In the cage, Baron Bistro slammed his fists against the iron bars, "ELMSWORTH! HOW DARE YOU, YOU ARROGANT PRETENDER!"
"SHUT YOUR TRAP!" Elmsworth roared back, his voice suppressing the Baron's, "Veridia will never bow!"
The crowd roared in support, a wave of patriotic fervor sweeping through the Hall. Elmsworth raised his fist high as a symbol of absolute defiance.
Then, a voice cut through the noise. It was not a roar, but a high-pitched, fanatical scream that came from the thick of the crowd.
"LONG LIVE THE BISTROS! THE TRUE RULERS OF VERIDIA!"
Every head turned. A man in a tattered cloak stood at the edge of the gallery. Before the guards could move, he pulled a glowing, ancient-looking scroll from a hidden pouch. His face was twisted with madness.
"DIE, PRETENDER THRONES!"
The scroll disintegrated in a flash of violent, purple light. A hiss filled the air as an arrow of pure, swirling void energy tore through the space between the gallery and the front row. It didn't miss. The arrow pierced Elmsworth's chest, leaving a gaping, smoking hole where his heart had been.
The Great Lord of Veridia didn't scream. His eyes went wide, reflecting the purple glow, and his lifeless body collapsed onto the cold stone floor.