The High Paladin looked down at the sea of angry faces, he felt his chest would crumble under his silver-gold breastplate which suddenly was feeling too heavy to keep wearing. The crowd's uproar was becoming deafening; it was something Valoria hadn't heard in decades. He looked at the other city-state delegates; some were nodding at Torin's words, while others looked at the stage with open disgust.
Desperate, cornered, and fearing a full-scale insurrection right in front of the Heptagon Accord, the High Paladin slammed his gauntleted fist onto the stone table.
"Silence!" he screamed at raging crowd, his voice cracking under the strain, "Silence, you fools!"
His shout, backed by the heavy presence of the Paladin guards on the stage helped reestablishing a fragile quiet back over the plaza, though the air remained explosive. The High Paladin glared at Torin, before turning his gaze back to the crowd. He had to give them a monster, or they would tear the Council apart.
"The Veridian speaker plays with words to spark rebellion!" the High Paladin shouted, pointing an accusing finger not at Torin, but down toward the holding cells beneath the stage, "We did not lose the Princess! She was stolen from her holy confinement by a serpent nesting within our own bosom!"
He turned to his left, raising his hand, "Bring out the traitor!"
A heavy iron door at the base of the stage opened. Two towering Paladins marched out, dragging a man clad in heavy iron chains. His armor had been stripped away, leaving him in a torn, dirt-covered tunic.
It was Mordan Terance.
The crowd gasped, new wave of murmurs started rising. Mordan kept his head down, his hair and skin were covered with sweat and blood. He was dragged up the steps of the High Stage and forced onto his knees right in front of the stone table.
"Look upon him!" the High Paladin bellowed, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and relief at having found a scapegoat, "High Justicar Mordan Terance! A man we trusted to uphold the sacred laws of Valoria. But greed and corruption know no bounds. It was Mordan who abused his authority, forged secret transport orders, and facilitated the escape of the heretic Princess Selena last night! He did it to sabotage this holy transition and plunge our city into chaos!"
Mordan slowly lifted his head, he looked at the High Paladin with hollow eyes. He wanted to scream the truth- that he had set a trap for the Veridians, that Lorian had outmaneuvered him, that the Princess was likely still within the city borders. But he knew how the Council worked. His genuine signature was on that secret order. If he spoke of a trap that failed to catch anyone, he would just sound like a lunatic grasping at straws. The Council had already decided his fate.
"He stands mute before his crimes!" the High Paladin cried, turning back to the delegates, "The Council's hands are clean. We have been betrayed by one of our own, but justice will be served. Mordan Terance will answer for his treason with his life, and the hunt for the fugitive Princess has already begun!"
The Paladins on the stage breathed a collective sigh of relief, believing the narrative had been successfully shifted.
However, unbeknownst to them, they had left the door wide open for the final legal execution.
From the front row of the Veridian bench, Count Leofrick Vane-Ashbourne slowly stood up. Unlike Torin, who dominated with his massive frame, Leo stood with an effortless, aristocratic grace. A sharp, venomous smirk played on his lips as he casually dusted off his sleeve.
"Well, well," Leo remarked in his smooth, sharp voice, "What an extraordinary admission."
He took a few slow steps forward, his hands clasped behind his back. He didn't look at the crowd; his haughty eyes stayed locked on the High Paladin.
"Let me see if my simple mind can follow the Council's dazzling logic," Leo said, his tone dripping with fake admiration, "You want us to believe that High Justicar Mordan Terance- one of the most powerful, heavily guarded, and fiercely loyal pillars of your Holy Order- suddenly woke up last night and decided to become a traitor. And for whom? A young Princess in chains."
Leo stopped at the base of the stage, tilting his head. The smirk on his face widened, "But tell me, High Paladin... with what exactly did she buy him? The Stormhold treasury was confiscated weeks ago. Every loyal servant of the crown is either dead, in chains, or under house arrest. Princess Selena was dragged here as a penniless captive, stripped of her titles, her wealth, and her freedom."
Leo paused, letting the heavy silence engulf the whole plaza, "Are you honestly suggesting that a bankrupt, imprisoned young girl managed to bribe your highest-ranking Justicar? With what gold? With what promises?"
Leo's eyes snapped back to the High Paladin, the playful sarcasm vanishing into a cold, piercing glare, "No. That is a fairy tale for children. There are only two logical conclusions the rest of the world can draw from this pathetic display. Either the great Paladin Order is so utterly incompetent that a defenseless girl can make a fool out of them and walk out of their highest security dungeons unnoticed... or Mordan Terance did not act out of greed at all."
Leo stepped even closer, "Perhaps the High Justicar simply looked at what this Council was doing. Perhaps he read your laws, looked at this sham of a trial, and realized the deep, rotting flaw in your entire process. Maybe, it wasn't gold that moved Mordan Terance, High Paladin. It was his conscience. When a man's own inner circle would rather risk death and chains than follow his tyranny, it doesn't mean the prisoner is a witch. It means the Council has become monstrous."
Leo sat down, a proud smile of triumph still lingering on his lips. The High Stage fell into a suffocating silence. The High Paladin was trembling in anger and frustration. His mouth was still open but his brain was now stripped of arguments. Below, the crowd was on the very edge of an angry outburst.
Seeing the absolute collapse of their authority, Grand Justicar Malakar slowly rose from the stone table. He was an old man, his hair white as winter frost. The grand old paladin was not known for political scheming but for a rigid, unbending honesty. He gently placed a hand on the High Paladin's shoulder, forcing his frantic comrade to sit down. The game was over.
Malakar stepped slowly to the edge of the stage. He didn't draw a weapon. He simply looked down at the Veridians, the foreign delegates, and the vast sea of Valorian citizens. When he spoke, his voice didn't boom with any artificial magic. It was quiet, heavy, and filled with a profound, staggering sorrow that made the plaza go dead silent.
"Let them smirk," Malakar said softly, his eyes tracing the benches, "Let the clever politicians laugh, and let the wealthy traders count their gold. You think you have trapped us with dusty laws. You think this is a petty grab for a golden chair. How I wish your minds were right. How I wish it were that simple."
He looked directly at the foreign benches. There was no hatred or spite in his gaze; rather, it was soft, filled with an aching pity.
"Look at our world," Malakar whispered, stretching out a wrinkled, calloused hand, "Look across our borders and tell me what you see. Veridia and Port Azure, once noble lands, are now entirely blinded by the pursuit of coin, selling their souls to the highest bidder. Sylvana and Glimmerfall retain the beautiful faces of humans, yet they eagerly discard their heritage, begging to walk the corrupt, wild paths of the demi-humans- the very beasts who once sought to wipe our ancestors from existence. And Solara? You tear down every moral boundary, butcher your own humanity, and sell your own soul- just to scrape for a shred of forbidden knowledge."
A sharp, uneasy murmur broke out among the delegates, but Malakar didn't stop. He no more felt any need to hold back. His voice rose slightly, thick with tears he refused to shed, "And the Empire... a magnificent cage, rotting from within under the weight of dirty politics, power plays, and endless, bloody conspiracies. Valoria was all that was left. The last pure land. The single, unbroken beacon of chivalry, holiness, and human morality in a continent slowly being swallowed by a creeping darkness. We did not lock the Princess away out of cruelty. We did it out of terror. We saw the dark path she was walking, the foreign influences she was bringing back, and we knew... if Valoria falls into the mud with the rest of you, there will be no difference left between the holy knights of this city and the barbaric, blood-thirsty goons of Aethelgard."
The plaza was so silent the wind felt loud. Malakar looked up at the morning sun, his shoulders slumping under his heavy armor, "This was our last, desperate attempt; our last stand. Not to rule you, but to save you. For when the darkness completely engulfs this continent, the ancient serpents will rise again from the depths. And this time, because you have extinguished the last light, nothing can stop the dark dawn, which will bring back our ancient enemies. There will be nothing left to stop them from destroying us all forever. We tried to keep the fire burning. But you... you have destroyed the only chance we had."
The plaza fell silent for a bit; as if the time itself has stopped. But it was soon broken by the head of the delegates from Aethelgard. The commander from Aethelgard stood up so fast that his heavy iron chair flipped backward, crashing loudly against the marble. His face was flushed with fury.
"A barbaric goon?" the commander spat, his hand slamming onto the hilt of his broadsword, "We traveled leagues to ensure a lawful transition, only to be branded as beasts by a court of crumbling zealots. Aethelgard is finished with Valoria. If your holy city burns, do not look to our borders for sanctuary!"
With a sweep of his cloak, the commander marched out of the plaza, his heavily armored guards stomping right behind him.
The envoy from Glimmerfall and Port Azure; and the representatives from Solara stood up next.
"If the Council views the entire world as its enemy, then you truly have no allies left," the Solaran delegate said darkly, "This is no longer a diplomatic summit. It is a circus, an asylum."
Within moments, a chain reaction took hold. The tiered benches began to empty as the foreign delegates walked out in open defiance, effectively denouncing Valoria and severing their alliances right then and there.
On the stage, the remaining Paladins stood entirely isolated. All of the treaties were dead.
Malakar looked down at Queen Serena, the sorrow in his eyes hardening into a terrifying, tragic finality. He slowly drew his ceremonial dagger, the steel gleaming in the light.
"If the world chooses the dark," Malakar whispered, his voice trembling, "then we must protect the light with blood."