The magistrate's court was filled to capacity. Merchants, dock workers, and townsfolk crowded the benches, their voices hushed but tense.
The wolf delegation stood along the left wall, their presence unmistakable—broad shoulders, sharp eyes, the weight of their silence pressing on the room.
Carlos Suarez was brought forward in chains. His coat was torn from his flight, his boots caked with mountain mud. He kept his chin high, but his face was pale, his hands restless.
The presiding magistrate adjusted his robes and spoke clearly for all to hear.
"Carlos Suarez. Merchant of the valley. You stand accused of bribery, fraud, and treasonous collusion with mercenaries against both men and wolves. The charges are grave. Do you understand them?"
Carlos swallowed. "I understand."
The clerk unrolled a parchment and began to read: Carlos funded Aiden Calder's escape with the intent to use him as a weapon against his own pack.
