Chapter 47: 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."
Cedric rose from his seat, his robe trailing like a shadow across the polished floor. Each step echoed beneath the vaulted ceiling as he turned to face the judges.
"Your Honors, court members, and esteemed citizens," he began, his tone calm yet cutting. "We gather not for petty disputes, but to uphold the very foundation of our Empire's law."
He paced before the bench, his every movement measured. "The accused—Shirley—is charged with crimes that stain the Royal Family itself. Kidnapping a royal, killing an unborn heir, and poisoning Concubine Jeanne with an alchemic toxin known as Silent Taker. These are not acts of desperation, but deliberate rebellion."
Gasps rippled through the audience.
"Clause Thirty-Five of Imperial Law," Cedric continued, slamming a palm onto the parchment in his hand, "demands execution for such crimes—twice over if the crime involves royal blood."
He didn't pause long. "Clause Fifty-Four—harm to a child, twenty years imprisonment. Clause Twenty-Three—use of brainwashing substances, ten years. The evidence speaks louder than any plea."
Cedric's gaze hardened as he turned toward the bound woman sitting silently beside her advocate. "Her envy toward her sister Jeanne drove her to madness. She kidnapped Athena, poisoned Jeanne, and ended the bloodline of Prince Raven Sillalus Jorvot before it even began."
He returned to his seat, his words lingering in the air like the aftertaste of smoke.
Lauren rose next, calm but unyielding. The soft rustle of her robe broke the silence as she stepped into the center of the room.
"Your Honors," she began, her voice smooth yet steady, "what my colleague presented is a tale crafted for convenience—a story that hides more than it reveals."
She looked from the judges to the crowd, her gaze sharp. "Lady Shirley acted not from envy, but loyalty. Her so-called crime was to protect her sister's children. And Athena did not resist her—she went willingly. The Emperor and Empress themselves saw them leave the palace… and said nothing."
Her words sent a wave of murmurs through the hall.
Then she looked directly at the throne. "Your Excellency," she said suddenly, "were you present in the Royal Palace the night Athena left with Lady Shirley?"
The question struck the chamber like a thrown stone. Even the judges froze.
Cedric shot to his feet. "Objection! You have no right to question His Excellency!"
Chief Judge Jamison's gavel struck once, sharp as thunder. "Advocate Lauren," he warned, voice cold, "to question the Emperor is to question the law itself."
A sheen of sweat glimmered on Lauren's forehead, but she didn't back down. "My apologies, Your Honor," she said, bowing slightly. "But the truth often hides where the law refuses to look."
The murmuring swelled.
"The prosecution claims jealousy," she continued, her tone rising. "But I claim the truth—fear and cruelty from the Imperial Family forced Shirley's hand. This case is not about guilt. It's about power—and how it shapes truth to serve itself."
Her voice cut through the chamber like a blade. When she finally sat, even the judges looked uneasy.
Jamison exhaled through his nose. "Let the prosecution present its evidence."
Cedric gestured sharply, and a scribe brought forward a bundle of documents. "Our first witness—Lady Vivian Ardent, third daughter of Count Ardent and former maid of the Imperial Palace."
A trembling woman entered, pale as paper. She raised a shaking hand and took her oath.
"Lady Ardent," Cedric said, "what did you witness on the night of the Princess's disappearance?"
Vivian's voice quivered. "I saw Lady Shirley enter Concubine Jeanne's chambers before the delivery. They… argued. I couldn't hear the words, but she was furious. Later, she came back—apologized—and brought food."
Cedric leaned closer. "And after the birth?"
Vivian's hands tightened. "I… I saw Lady Shirley leaving with the Princess. She carried a small bundle, and I— I think it was the dead child. I should've stopped her, but I was afraid." Tears streaked her cheeks. "It was my fault."
Cedric turned to the bench, his tone triumphant. "A palace maid confesses what the court already knows. Treason disguised as pity."
Lauren stood, voice sharp as a whip. "Objection. The witness described fear, not proof. Lady Shirley's actions that night were not an escape—they were a rescue."
Even the Emperor's expression shifted.
"What do you mean, Advocate Lauren?" Judge Jamison asked, brow furrowed.
"Raven Sillalus Jorvot," Lauren said clearly, "wasn't stillborn. He was murdered."
The words hit like a thunderclap.
Cedric slammed his hand on the table. "Outrageous!"
Jamison's eyes flared with fury. "Careful, Advocate. You are accusing the throne itself of murder. One more baseless word, and you'll face prison for treason."
Raven's fingers curled on the armrest. His gaze turned icy. Enough of this farce.
He whispered a single phrase under his breath—and a shimmer of crimson light flickered in the air.
A projection appeared in the center of the courtroom—a fifteen-year-old boy with black hair and deep blue eyes.
Every head turned.
"R-Raven!" Shirley gasped, tears welling. "Please, run! They'll kill you too!"
The illusion didn't respond to her plea. It faced the Emperor instead, voice cold and clear.
"I'm Raven Sillalus Jorvot, the 66th Prince of the Zenith Empire." His gaze slid to Jamison. "Your Eye of Truth can confirm that."
Jamison's eyes widened. "How do you know—"
"You can't lie," Raven interrupted, "but you can twist truth under the Empire's laws. Do your duty properly… or I'll make sure you can't do it at all."
The pressure in the courtroom spiked, the Chief Judge's aura slamming down like a storm. But the phantom boy stood unfazed. Then, as abruptly as he appeared, he vanished—leaving silence so deep it hurt.
Jamison stood motionless, his face pale. He knows…
Lauren's voice broke the silence. "May I continue, Your Honor?"
Jamison hesitated, his throat dry. "Proceed."
A quiet smile curved Lauren's lips. "Thank you."
Cedric shot up again. "Objection! Who was that boy? Why appear and vanish if he's the real prince?"
Before the Chief Judge could answer, the Emperor's voice rumbled across the hall. "Where did you obtain the Royal Inheritance Bracelet?"
Lauren bowed slightly. "Prince Raven gave it to me yesterday to prove his identity. You can ask the Chief Judge whether that's true."
Jamison's jaw tightened. "She speaks the truth."
Lauren walked forward and handed the bracelet to the royal guard. "You can confirm its authenticity, Your Excellency."
"Ask," the Emperor said flatly.
Lauren's tone softened, but her words cut like glass. "Was your sixty-sixth child born dead?"
The entire hall froze.
After a long silence, Ian's shoulders sank. "No. He was alive."
Lauren bowed her head and stepped back.
Jamison slammed his gavel. "No further questions for His Excellency!"
Lauren turned toward Shirley. "Then allow her to speak for herself."
Cedric rose again. "The accused has no right—"
"She has every right when the witnesses are kept from this court!" Lauren snapped. "Where is Princess Athena? Where is Concubine Jeanne? Why are they not here?"
Cedric's expression hardened. "Concubine Jeanne is ill. Princess Athena's presence is unnecessary."
"Unnecessary?" Lauren's voice rose. "She is the key witness! Unless the Royal Family fears what she might say."
The audience erupted, shouts and murmurs colliding until Jamison's gavel brought silence again.
Then a new voice echoed through the room—young, cold, and filled with restrained fury.
"Pathetic."
The illusion of Raven appeared once more, standing before the Emperor. "The truth is simple. I was born without affinities. My father and Prime Minister Gavin deemed me unworthy of royal blood and ordered my death. My sister and aunt saved me. Gavin later hunted them down."
The vision dissolved again.
A stunned silence followed.
Gavin stood slowly, his composure cracking. "If he was born without affinities, how is he using magic now?"
A soft, melodic voice answered from the doorway. "Because he was never ordinary to begin with."
Heads turned as a woman in crimson robes stepped into the courtroom. Her green eyes glimmered beneath black hair that fell to her shoulders.
"Vice President Judith," Gavin muttered, his frown deepening.
The air grew heavy. Even the judges straightened in their seats.
Judith's presence radiated power—calm, refined, yet suffocating. Among the seven Legendary Wizards of the Empire, few dared to speak before her.
And now, she had come uninvited.