Eldric Vaelor rose with the kind of calm that made people nervous — the calm of a man who had already decided how this trial would end. He straightened his cuffs, glanced at the jury like he was sizing up opponents in a chess match, and began.
"Let's get something straight from the start."
His voice slid through the hall like a blade wrapped in velvet.
"The Crown wants you emotional. The law wants you rational. Choose wisely."
He didn't wait for the reaction.
"Helga Emberhide and Orion Emberhide are accused of treason, conspiracy, assault — big words, heavy words. Except when you strip away the drama, the facts don't hold."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"The first incident? A training match. Supervised. Sanctioned. And the 'victim?' A student. Not a pack member. Not ranked. Not sworn. Not royal. Not protected under any statute the Crown is suddenly pretending applies."
He lifted a single brow.
"A hit in a training ring isn't treason. It barely qualifies as news."
He paced once, slow and confident.
"Now let's talk about the second incident — the one involving Orion Emberhide."
Eldric's tone shifted to sharper.
"The Crown keeps calling it an assault on a royal. Except there's a problem: she wasn't a royal."
He raised a finger as if checking off a list.
"She held no title. Not a High Luna for House Thorn. Not Gamma Luna. Nothing recorded, recognized, or announced under pack law. You do not retroactively crown someone to manufacture a crime."
He paced once, slow, precise.
"The confrontation happened inside the prison. During discipline. Under the Warden's authority."
He let that settle, then delivered the strike.
"Harsh? Maybe. Illegal? Not even close."
"Prisons operate under different rules for a reason. The alleged victim was serving a punishment — scrubbing floors with her classmates — under a disciplinary order reviewed and approved by Alpha Shadowclaw himself."
He glanced back at the jury, expression cool.
"You don't get to call a lawful punishment 'treason' because you don't like how it looked."
He paused just long enough for the jurors to realize he wasn't afraid of them — or anyone else in the room.
"If the Crown doesn't like how the doctrine works, it should rewrite the law. Not twist it."
Eldric paused just long enough to make the room lean in, then continued — smooth, deliberate, dangerous.
"Let's clear up this Warden's Mandate issue before the Crown twists it into something it's not."
He held up a hand.
"Article VII, Section 12 — the Warden's Mandate Doctrine. Translation? Once someone's punishment begins inside a prison, authority over that discipline transfers entirely to the Warden. Not partly. Not conditionally. Entirely."
A slow step forward.
"The Warden can impose corrective measures as needed to keep order — as long as no one ends up dead or missing a limb. Those are the rules. Not my rules. The law's rules."
He let that hang in the air like a verdict.
"So anything that happened in that prison falls under prison authority, not Crown oversight. Orion Emberhide acted inside his jurisdiction. If the Crown doesn't like how broad that doctrine is, they can take it up with the lawmakers. Not my clients."
Another step — confidence coiled like a blade.
"Now, let's talk influence."
His tone dropped lower, tighter.
"Both defendants were under dark magic at the time. Not rumor. Not imagination. Proven influence that compromises judgment and will. And if someone's will is compromised, you don't have intent. No intent means no treason, no conspiracy, no assault. The foundation of every Crown charge collapses."
He gave a pointed glance to the prosecution before he turned back to the jurors.
"They weren't hiding anything. They weren't scheming. They were questioned once and thrown into cells. Hard to confess what you don't understand."
He spread his hands a fraction — a gesture of controlled inevitability.
"As for the poisonings? The Crown is connecting dots that don't even exist. Helga Emberhide was already incarcerated. The alleged victims weren't royals. And there's not a single piece of direct evidence tying either defendant to that incident."
His voice stayed calm, almost casual — the confidence of a man who'd already dismantled the case.
"Here's what the defense will show: the Crown stretched its accusations past fact, past law, and straight into fiction. My clients aren't traitors. They're victims — manipulated, used, and discarded by a force that didn't care what damage it caused."
"When the evidence is laid out, these charges won't just look unproven. They'll look impossible." He said in a final razor-sharp tone.
Eldric inclined his head toward the bench, a gesture of respect without surrender.
"The defense is ready."
The jury members looked shocked. Fin's jaw was locked, but his expression didn't change. The courtroom was silent.