Chapter 97: Crown Prince's Assassination Case
Morning of 23rd September, Year 1420 — Rune Era
Red Ember City, Royal Capital
The dawn mist clung to the streets as Raven stepped out of the carriage. The Supreme Court loomed ahead—an austere fortress of marble and glass spires that sliced the sky.
[If you make a mistake and get caught, abandon Thomas Holmes's identity.]
Zera's voice brushed against his mind, cold and sharp.
Raven adjusted his bowler hat, fixing the monocle over his left eye. Today, he wasn't Raven Sillalus Jorvot—the abandoned son of the Emperor. He was Thomas Holmes, a young noble with impeccable manners and a sad past.
He joined the line at the compound gate. Twenty guards in crimson uniforms scanned each entrant with mechanical precision. When his turn came, a lean officer blocked his path.
"Name?"
"Thomas," Raven said evenly.
"Identity."
Raven handed over his certificate. The man barely glanced at it.
"Go in. Next—"
Raven hesitated, then revealed a golden badge engraved with twin serpents.
"I'm new to this court," he said mildly. "Could you guide me, officer?"
The man's posture stiffened. His eyes widened at the badge before snapping into a salute.
"Forgive me, sir! I'll escort you myself."
Raven followed him through the iron gates, his polished shoes echoing against the marble floors.
Inside, the Supreme Court felt less like a hall of justice and more like a storm about to break. Citizens, nobles, and reporters thronged the corridors. Cameras flashed. Advocates whispered strategy. Even the air buzzed with rumor and dread.
Two trials had drawn the city's eyes today—the Crown Prince's Assassination Case and the Sword Princess's Kidnapping Case.
The officer led Raven into the Hall of Jurisdiction, a vast semicircular chamber with crimson banners bearing the twin serpent crest. The marble gleamed like frozen blood under shafts of light from high stained-glass windows.
"You can take any of these seats, sir."
Raven nodded, choosing one near the front.
From there, he could see everything—the accused's bench, the judges' podium, the Counsel's Table where advocates were arranging their parchments. Among them, Lauren caught his eye. Calm and composed, her glasses glinting, she spoke to a clerk without looking up. Raven's shoulders eased slightly.
A chime rang through the hall. The murmurs died instantly.
Six judges entered first—robes of black and crimson, gold-threaded hems swaying. Each step radiated weight. Their collective aura pressed on the crowd like a mountain.
Then the Chief Judge appeared.
Jamison Von Yuranis.
Silver-embroidered robes. Wrinkled face carved by decades of decisions that shaped empires. His blue eyes, cold and calculating, swept across the court. When they met Raven's for the briefest moment, a chill rippled through him.
'He's walking the Divine Path,' Raven thought, touching his monocle.
The doors opened again.
A tall man in white robes entered, golden hair gleaming under the chandelier's light. His crown burned with gemfire. His eyes—sharp, red, and unreadable—surveyed the hall.
Emperor Ian Sillalus Jorvot.
Raven's breath caught. My father.
Behind him came a man clad in dark robes, long golden hair flowing freely. His presence, calm but suffocating, made even the nobles look away.
Prime Minister Gavin. The Empire's strongest wizard.
They took their seats near the Counsel's Table. The court clerk raised his voice, and it thundered through the hall.
"Let the trial for the Crown Prince's assassination attempt begin!"
A hush swallowed the chamber.
The accused shuffled in—gaunt, bruised, wrapped in tattered rags. Shackles shimmered around his wrists. The insignia of House Gravestone was barely visible beneath the grime.
The first judge leaned forward, eyes sharp as a hawk.
"You stand accused of treason and attempted murder of the Crown Prince. How do you plead?"
The man's voice cracked. "Not guilty! I was framed! I—"
"Silence!" another judge barked. "The evidence speaks for itself."
Raven's eyebrows raised.
A farce, huh.
The outcome was already written.
The prosecution presented its evidence: a dagger bearing his fingerprints, a witness's testimony, and a letter suggesting collusion with the Viser Kingdom. Each piece drew gasps and whispers, feeding the spectacle.
But Raven's gaze stayed on Jamison.
The Chief Judge's face never shifted. His eyes absorbed everything and betrayed nothing.
After an hour, the hall grew still. The accused trembled, broken but unbowed. Jamison rose.
"The court has reviewed all evidence," he said, voice cold and precise. "The weapon. The document. The testimonies. Together, they prove treason beyond doubt."
The accused met his gaze—pleading, desperate.
"The accused is found guilty of high treason," Jamison declared.
"The sentence—death."
The chamber erupted. Cries, denials, gasps.
The man screamed as guards dragged him away, chains clanging like tolling bells.
"I'm innocent! Please—listen to me!"
Jamison's voice cut through the noise like a blade.
"There are times when justice demands a heavier price. You may claim innocence, but history will remember only your guilt."
Three sharp cracks of the gavel. Silence.
Raven's hands curled into fists.
'He knew it was a lie.'
[He didn't lie,] Zera murmured. [He upheld the law. The truth bends for those who know how to shape it.]
Raven's lips tightened.
The Chief Judge's next words shattered the lingering quiet.
"Next case."
The court clerk lifted his scroll again.
"Let the trial for the Sword Princess's Kidnapping case begin!"
Raven straightened, his monocle glinting. The double doors opened once more.
Two guards entered, dragging a woman in chains. Blonde hair matted with dirt. Torn black dress clinging to her frail form. Her left wrist—gone, wrapped in bloodstained cloth.
Raven's world stopped.
"A-Aunt…" His voice cracked, barely a whisper. His chest burned, fists trembling.
[Calm down, lad,] Zera's tone softened. [She's alive. Be grateful for that.]
The courtroom rippled with whispers. Lauren's expression hardened as she gathered her notes. Across from her, Advocate Cedric—representing the Royal Family—smiled faintly, confident and cruel.
Jamison's gavel struck the podium.
"Advocates," he said, voice echoing through marble and fear,
"Present your opening statements."