On the overhead beam, an ornate glass chandelier refracted candlelight and lamplight, casting a faint glow upon the brownish mahogany judgment table. Under the warm radiance, apart from the rhythmic ticking of the pendulum, the only sound in this classical courtroom was a clear, melodious female voice.
Noticing everyone's eyes fixed upon her, Amalia felt no discomfort. Quite the opposite, she found her words especially crisp, her unusual thoughts lucid. She even had to deliberately feign the demeanor of a timid, tongue-tied girl to conceal her true composure.
Under everyone's gaze, she parted her lips and spoke calmly.
"In summary, Viscount Rostlin is highly suspect of criminal activity."
