Chapter 96: Meeting
The mansion smelled faintly of lavender and parchment. Raven followed the old butler through the hallway, his steps quiet against the polished marble. Crystals embedded in the chandeliers hummed with restrained magic, casting ripples of light across oil paintings and golden drapes.
"Welcome, Sir Raven," Philip said, his tone measured, respectful. "Her Grace is in an important meeting. Please wait in the guest—"
A soft tremor ran through the air. A woman's voice, calm yet commanding, drifted through the hall like a divine decree.
"Philip. Bring him to the study."
The butler froze mid-step, bowed his head, and changed direction. "At once, Your Grace."
They ascended a spiral staircase, the scent of old wood and incense deepening as they approached a pair of ornate doors carved with runes and bird motifs. Faint light pulsed beneath the carvings — warding sigils, alive and aware.
Philip pushed open the doors. "Her Grace awaits."
Raven stepped inside.
Judith sat behind an enormous desk, papers neatly stacked, her fingers tapping against the parchment in silent rhythm. Her gaze was sharp — the kind that stripped away masks. Behind her, bookshelves towered to the ceiling, each filled with scrolls and relics that whispered of centuries of study.
But Raven's attention shifted to the other woman seated across from Judith — young, perhaps twenty at most, with golden hair tied neatly and amber eyes that gleamed with intelligence. The long black coat she wore bore the insignia of the Imperial Advocates Guild.
She noticed his glance and smiled faintly.
"Lorain," she said. "Advocate. High-rank."
Her words were clipped, professional, yet her tone held quiet pride.
Judith finally spoke.
"So, the dream wasn't just an illusion after all," she murmured, her gaze flicking between the two of them. "Raven Sillalus Jorvot… the boy from the dream."
Raven inclined his head. "Yes, Your Grace."
"Before we begin," Judith leaned back in her chair, "I must ask… is your teacher still alive? A man who can project his voice into the past and speak through dreams — surely he wouldn't need my help."
Her voice was curious, almost amused.
Raven paused. "He lives," he said at last. "But he's… far from here. Beyond reach, even for me." His tone carried a weight that made the air colder. "I apologize for dragging you into this, Your Grace. But I've run out of choices."
Judith smiled faintly — sharp, knowing.
"Desperation has a familiar scent. So, the dead prince seeks my aid? The one who, according to the Empire, never took his first breath?"
Raven met her eyes. "I am that prince."
A soft, skeptical chuckle escaped the advocate, Lorain.
"If that's true," she said, "then why did the Royal Family declare you stillborn? Why would a woman — Shirley, was it? — risk kidnapping you and the Sword Princess in the dead of night?"
Raven's expression darkened. "She didn't kidnap us. She saved us."
Judith tilted her head. "From the Emperor?"
He nodded once. "From my father's will."
The study fell silent. Even the candles seemed to still.
"I was born without affinities," Raven continued, his voice low. "My soul was… fractured. They saw no value in a crippled heir. So, they planned to end my life the day I was born. My aunt and sister learned the truth. They fled with me before the execution could happen."
Judith's gaze softened — only slightly. "That's quite a tale."
Raven reached into his coat and produced a silver bracelet. "Then perhaps this will help you believe."
Judith took it. The air pulsed as her spirit power brushed the artifact. A faint royal insignia shimmered to life on its surface — a twin-headed serpent coiling around.
"…A royal inheritance bracelet," she whispered. "Authentic." Her eyes narrowed. "And yet, these are bound by life. How did you remove it?"
Raven only smiled. "Does it matter, so long as it's real?"
A flicker of amusement crossed her face. "I suppose not."
Lorain set down her quill. "Even if he's the real prince, Your Grace, this case is still impossible. The Chief Judge of the Supreme Court possesses the Eye of Truth. Lies hold no power in his presence. Your aunt will be condemned before the first bell tolls."
Raven's jaw tightened. "So the verdict's already written."
"Of course," Lorain said. "The Royal Family wants closure, not justice."
He exhaled slowly. "Then I'll rewrite it."
Judith leaned forward, intrigued. "How do you plan to do that?"
Raven met her eyes. "By changing what the people believe."
A beat passed. Then Judith chuckled — a quiet, dangerous sound. "You speak like a revolutionary, boy."
Raven didn't deny it. "Your Grace," he said, "do you believe this Empire is truly ruled by the Emperor?"
Judith's brows furrowed. "Isn't that obvious?"
He shook his head. "No. Wizards rule this land — not kings, not nobles. The Wizard Alliance pulls every string from the shadows. Even the Emperor bows before them."
Judith's eyes hardened at that truth. She didn't respond immediately, and Lorain's expression turned unreadable.
Finally, Judith sighed. "You're not wrong. If not for sentiment, I'd have joined the Wizard Alliance years ago. The mainland offers power… freedom. Here, we chase scraps."
"Then you understand why I can't rely on laws written by them," Raven said. "That's why I came. I need a stage — not a verdict. During the hearing, I want the Prime Minister present. Can you make that happen?"
Judith glanced at Lorain. The advocate smiled faintly.
"If I take this case, he'll come. He loves to watch me lose."
Raven's lips curved. "Then let him watch."
He stood, bowing slightly. "You don't have to win, Advocate Lorain. Just make sure the world sees."
Lorain studied him for a moment — the determination in his eyes, the calm beneath his defiance — and finally nodded.
"You want exposure, not victory. Fine. I'll give you that."
She reached into her spatial ring and produced a golden badge. "Show this at the Supreme Court gates. You'll be seated with the VIPs."
Raven accepted it with a nod. "That's more than enough."
Judith tilted her head. "You're planning something."
He smiled. "I'll appear for only thirty seconds in the court… and then vanish. After five minutes, you may continue as if nothing happened."
Lorain frowned. "A disappearing act? That's suicide."
Judith's expression, however, brightened with intrigue. "A spell capable of fooling even Legendary Wizards…" She tapped her chin. "Now that is interesting."
Raven gave no answer. He only bowed once more. "Then, I'll take my leave."
He reached for the door, paused, and said quietly,
"My teacher left a warning for you, Your Grace — a wolf named Edward Raynor hides near you."
Judith's fingers froze mid-tap. Her gaze sharpened. "Edward Raynor, you say…"
Raven nodded.
"Tell me one thing before you go," she said. "Your teacher — is he from the mainland?"
He hesitated. Zera's voice whispered in his mind.
[Keep it vague. Too much truth draws too much attention.]
Raven smiled faintly. "No, Your Grace. He's from a faraway land… perhaps even a faraway world."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Judith sat still for a long moment, the silence heavy.
Lorain broke it first. "Another world? Is he serious?"
Judith's lips curved into a thoughtful smile. "Maybe. Maybe not. But anyone who walks in with that much confidence either carries madness… or truth."
Her gaze drifted toward the window, where the morning light fell in slanted gold lines.
"And if he's right about that wolf… then we've been feeding the wrong hand."
Lorain frowned. "You think Edward's connected to the Alliance?"
"Everything connects to them eventually," Judith murmured. "Until we learn to make our own path — we'll always be prey among wolves."
Below, Raven stepped out of the mansion into the cool morning air. He glanced back once — the runed windows gleaming faintly in the sun — then disappeared into the streets, his cloak trailing like a shadow.