As soon as Kai said those words, the reactions were polarized.

The great hall rippled with unease. Murmurs immediately started to surface like restless winds. A few of the gathered nobles leaned forward, eyes gleaming with agreement, while others frowned deeply.

Questions brewed in the air, thick as storm clouds and Kai welcomed them.

One of the older lords, Baron Herbert of House Fairview, rose from his seat, his fur cloak dragging over the stone floor. His voice reached every ear.

“So… are you saying we were wrong to strike the barbarians? That His Majesty and his council chose poorly? That our blades were stained in error? Is that… is that what you’re saying, Count Arzan?”

Every eye shifted back to Kai.

Kai drew a slow breath, steadying the surge of mana that prickled instinctively at his heart. This wasn’t a battlefield—at least, not one fought with swords. He raised his chin, his words ringing clear,

“I dare not question the wisdom of the King or his council. I know their intentions burn for the good of this kingdom.”

He let that assurance linger, watching the nobles’ postures ease a fraction. Then he pressed forward, voice sharpening like a drawn edge.

“But when the barbarians spilled into the Sylvan Enclave—when they hunted merchant caravans, when they dared to capture nobles themselves—I believed that meeting them with steel would not be the wisest course.”

Gasps and mutters broke out. Kai’s gaze swept the hall, weighing every reaction before he continued.

“First of all,” he said and looked up at the man who questioned him, “they are not men who remain in one place. With their homes destroyed, they wander. They adapt. And worse…” He lifted a finger, as if pointing at a threat invisible but very real. “They have tamed beasts. Tell me, how many of you would risk hunting them in the wilds, knowing even an experienced Mage may falter against a beast bonded to its master?”

A few heads dipped, grim nods acknowledging the truth. The rest sat in uncomfortable silence.

Kai pressed on, voice steady but carrying the weight of memory.

“I nearly killed the son of their chieftain once… Nearly—because I realized what that would mean—another war, another fight the region did not want. So I did what I thought best. I gave them trust, not steel. A hand extended, even if it took time. And in the end…” His lips curved, not in triumph, but in certainty. “They accepted it.”

The room was hushed now, nobles leaning forward despite themselves. Kai turned then, his eyes finding Regina where she sat. She had her hands clasped in front of her.

“Your Highness,” Kai addressed her, “do you know how many bandits prowled the Sylvan Enclave’s borders just a year ago? Two years ago?”

He let the question hang, daring her to answer.

Regina stared at him for long before answering in a cold voice.

“I do not.”

Kai nodded. “And you all… probably might not be aware of this either, so allow me to answer. There were twelve large raiding groups and more small packs than I cared to count, pushing down on travelers and merchants alike. But once the barbarians shifted into the Enclave, there were only three large ones left. They took control by destroying the rest.”

Men and women alike who sat in front of him shifted uncomfortably. Because afterall, the truth was that—uncomfortable to process, even more uncomfortable to digest.

And he continued.

“What I did was end their reign of terror myself. Because bandits desire only blood and plunder. But the Barbarians… They wanted a home, a place where their children could grow without fear. I gave them a patch of land, and in return, they lent me their men. Tell me, how many bandit banners roam the Sylvan Enclave today?”

Another pregnant silence.

“None,” he answered for them. “At least no large ones. Because the barbarians now hunt them, on my orders. I turned an enemy into an asset.”

The last words were the one with the most impact. A few of the lords who had glared at him minutes ago now looked thoughtful.

Good. Just think. Thinking is better than wasting breath on more arguments.

His thoughts cracked when that female voice—the one needling him all day—cut in again.

“And yet,” Regina said, “I don’t believe they will give us their martial techniques. Not truly.”

Kai chuckled. “To be honest—and at the risk of offending some here—I do not believe the kingdom ever gained them, even when we raided their tribes. What was taken were fragments and scraps of them.” He looked around, meeting the eyes of the doubters. “With my way, I’ve eliminated an active threat and shifted their gaze from enmity to neutrality. These are early days, but the Lombard tribe has kept their word and behaved themselves.”

He drew himself straighter, his words now a quiet promise. “In time, they will hand me their martial techniques willingly. But no one should expect them to bow as if I were their god in a matter of months.”

Kai’s expression never flickered, but inside he tasted the lie. He didn’t care for their martial techniques, not truly. But the nobles needed to hear that. If a little falsehood greased the gears of politics, then so be it.

And he could see it, the way their eyes shifted, suspicion giving way to the first threads of acceptance. His gamble was working.

But Regina was not finished. Her gaze hardened, her words striking clean and sharp.

“But you still sided with enemies,” she said again. Her response was now starting to sound like an unhappy toddler.

“To eliminate the rage they carried for us,” he said, slowly emphasizing every word. “That was my choice. And I do not think I did anything wrong. A traitor acts against the kingdom’s best interests. But I acted for Lancephil, so it could be strengthened, instead of tearing itself apart in an internal war with the Lombards. So. I ask you all again, tell me, do we need more enemies?”

The silence that followed was absolute. Even the nobles who had muttered curses earlier now shifted uncomfortably, none willing to answer.

Regina’s glare cut through it, hot enough that Kai could almost feel it searing the side of his face.

But he waited, and waited.

A few painful minutes passed by when she finally exhaled sharply, a huff laced with frustration.

“There is no guarantee,” she said. “No guarantee you will hand over the martial techniques to the kingdom. Just as there is no guarantee you will share the Enforcer technique either.”

Kai inclined his head slightly as if to ask if she was serious. But of course, he didn’t. Rather, he took his time to answer.

“There is no guarantee of anything in life, Your Highness. But you know as well as I do—a noble’s word is worth gold. And if I give my word here, before this Assembly… do you truly think someone from House Kellius would break it?”

Regina’s lips parted, ready to strike back, but another voice rang out first, carrying the weight of authority that silenced the chamber in an instant.

“That is enough.” That was King Sullivan. “Count Arzan has spoken his piece. We will not circle this matter endlessly. If anyone here wishes to question him further, speak now.”

The King’s gaze swept over the assembly like a drawn bow. No one moved. No one spoke.

Even Regina, her jaw tight and her hands clenched on the arms of her chair, lowered herself back into her seat with a frown carved deep across her face. The effort of keeping her expression schooled had faded halfway through the exchange, and now her mask was gone entirely.

The hall was silent once more, the only sound the faint rustle of robes and shifting boots as tension thickened like smoke.

Finally, King Sullivan’s voice returned, resonant and deliberate.

“Then we proceed. It is time for the votes.”

As soon as King Sullivan spoke those words, Kai felt the world slow around him.

Time seemed to stop, not in truth, but in the weight of realization pressing down on him. The next few minutes would decide everything. Months of maneuvering, bargaining, and bleeding would be judged in a heartbeat. Every whispered promise, every clasped hand in shadowed corridors, he would learn if it had meant anything… or if it had all been a fool’s hope.

Would the nobles keep their word? Or abandon him now, when it was time to keep their words?

Kai closed his eyes, just for a few seconds. He forced his racing pulse into rhythm, steadying his breathing as the King’s voice rolled out once more.

“I am not going to have you all waste time writing votes on chits,” Sullivan declared, his tone brooking no dissent. “That would take too long. We will do this openly. Those who wish to abstain may remain seated. But those who would vote in Count Arzan’s favor—or against him—will rise when I call it out. Is that understood?”

A murmur of assent rippled through the chamber as nobles nodded, their silks whispering against the benches.

Kai opened his eyes again, heart hammering against his ribs.

King Sullivan’s voice cut across the silence.

“Very well. Those who who believe Count Arzan should be punished for slaying his kin, and for the way he conducted himself during the fief war, weighing all matters discussed here in this assembly—stand now.”

The scrape of benches and the rustle of cloaks filled the air.

Kai’s stomach tightened.

To his shock, a large number of nobles rose to their feet. Row after row, the sight of them carved a pit into his chest. The ones of the First Prince’s faction rose together. The Third Prince’s loyalists followed, standing as if by one command.

The Second Prince’s faction fractured before his eyes—half seated, half standing.

And among those who stood, Kai recognized faces. Faces of men and women who had clasped his hand only days ago, voices that had sworn support in quiet chambers away from prying eyes. Liars. Yet now, they refused to look at him. Their gazes slid away, fixed on the floor or the far wall, anywhere but at the man they had betrayed.

Kai’s jaw clenched. He memorized them, every one.

In the end, it was true. Nobles followed Princes, not promises.

The sight hollowed his chest, but he forced his face to remain calm, betraying nothing of the storm inside.

But fortunately for Kai, the shock faded when he realised that the tide was not overwhelming.

Yes, the sight of forty-odd nobles standing against him struck heavy, but not all that promised had risen. Many still sat, their expressions tight, wary of the Princes watching from above. He caught the glares of both the two Princes, and Regina’s sharp, cutting stare, aimed like blades at those who had remained seated.

That alone was enough for Kai.

Even one more standing for him than against him would be victory. The true danger lay with those who abstained, hiding their judgment in stillness.

King Sullivan’s eyes swept the chamber. His hand moved steadily as he counted each man and woman. The chamber’s air grew heavy as nobles shifted uneasily under the King’s gaze.

At last, Sullivan raised the parchment high for all to see.

“Forty-nine nobles,” the King announced, voice level. “Forty-nine who stand against Count Arzan, demanding punishment for his actions in the fief war.”

That statement made the nobles talk.

He even saw a few smiles glimmering across the Assembly. Most faces, however, remained carefully neutral.

When he stirred away from the crowd and looked at Regina once again, that was when he noticed that the woman didn’t even bother with a mask. Her lips were twisted in a sneer that warred with the deep frown etched between her brows. She had clearly expected more. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she shot a poisonous glance at Amara, who sat still, firmly rooted in her chair.

Kai’s stomach clenched at the sight. I need to get her out of the capital before Regina decides to move against her.

“Now,” King Sullivan said, his voice silencing the murmurs, “those who believe Count Arzan acted rightly in the fief war—stand.”

For a heartbeat, the chamber was frozen. Then, like a wave breaking, a large number of nobles rose to their feet.

Duke Blackwood stood tall, his robes sweeping the floor, his vassals rising behind him in a unified wall of support. The Baroness and the Viscountess, stood as well, unflinching beneath the Princes’ glares. Fringe nobles—men and women who had little to lose and everything to gain—joined them. And among them were those Kai had carefully poached from rival factions, men who had dared to defy the pull of their Prince.

And Amara.

She rose without hesitation, chin high, shoulders squared.

For the first time since the trial began, Kai felt something stir in his chest—relief. A thin smile touched his lips. His efforts, his months of tireless maneuvering, his risks, they had borne fruit.

Yet as his eyes scanned the chamber, the smile faltered.

The number of those who had stood for him… seemed eerily close to those who had stood against.

Almost the same.

The hall was a battlefield of silence now, the lines drawn clear, each noble on their side of the divide. Kai’s fate balanced on a razor’s edge, and the abstentions would decide which way the blade cut.

There were still more abstentions than Kai had expected. Silent nobles, their faces masks of indifference, hands folded neatly as if their very neutrality was a shield. And so the chamber waited, all eyes turning to King Sullivan.

The King did not rush. He sat calmly like a man used to carrying the weight of judgment. Then, with extreme slowness, he rose and raised his hand for silence.

“I have counted those who stood in favor of Count Arzan,” he said, voice echoing off the high stone walls, “and now I will announce the verdict of this Assembly of Judgment.”

Kai’s entire body tensed, as did more than a few nobles in the crowd. The air itself seemed to thicken, anticipation coiling around every throat. The King didn’t let them wonder about the judgement for long as he spoke.

“Against the forty-nine nobles who stood against Count Arzan,” Sullivan continued, “there are fifty-one who stand in favor of his actions being righteous in the fief war, and in the other matters we have discussed. Fifteen noblesnovels have abstained.”

The silence shattered.

“Thus,” the King declared, “the Assembly of Judgment has decided. Count Arzan is innocent!”

For Kai, it was as though time had stopped.

He stared forward, his breath caught, his chest so tight it ached. Slowly—slowly—he let the words sink in. He had won. They had won. Against the odds, against betrayal and shifting loyalties, they had managed to take the Assembly.

He almost felt like that was not… real. He gripped his thighs, steadying himself, realizing only now how taut his body had been wound. The tension bled out of him like air from a drawn bowstring.

Around the hall, smiles broke across the faces of those who had risen in his favor. There was pride there, vindication, a glimmer of triumph.

But not everywhere.

Regina sat rigid, her scowl plain, her displeasure written openly across her face for all to see.

And yet King Sullivan’s voice cut across even her burning silence, calm but carrying the weight of authority that none dared contest.

“Since Count Arzan has received the judgment of innocence, and of victory, I will make this announcement as well.”

The hall stilled once more.

“With the death of Duke Lucian Kellius, the lands belonging to him shall henceforth pass to his brother and victor—Arzan Kellius.”

Gasps rippled through the nobles like sparks through dry grass.

But the King was not done.

“As the last remaining heir of the Kellius bloodline—his elder brother having left the kingdom—I hereby declare that Arzan Kellius will inherit the Ducal title. He shall stand not as Count, but as Duke.”

The chamber erupted. Shocked cries, hurried whispers, the scrape of boots on stone as nobles leaned forward in disbelief.

And Kai stood frozen, the weight of the King’s words pressing down on him heavier than any battlefield armor he had ever borne.

He had come to survive judgment. Instead, he had claimed a Ducal throne.

At once, voices rose in protest.

Dozens of nobles who had stood against him sprang to their feet, mouths opening to complain, to decry this injustice, to demand the King to reconsider. The hall threatened to erupt into chaos until Sullivan’s hand lifted, silencing the room like a thunderclap.

“I am not finished.”

The words dropped heavy. The nobles who were clearly displeased by the outcome hushed.

The King’s gaze swept the chamber before turning back to Kai. “The late Duke Lucian Kellius will be investigated and formally charged for the crimes discussed here today. Alongside him, Baron Idrin as well as any others accused of torturing the local populace during the fief war.”

The hall stirred again, but this time it was not in outrage—it was in shock.

Baron Idrin bowed his head low, shoulders trembling, the color draining from his face. The man looked as though the stones beneath him might open and swallow him whole. He was… crying.

Kai allowed himself only a brief glance in Idrin’s direction before looking away. Piece by piece, the board is shifting. Everything is falling into place.

But Sullivan’s voice had not yet finished reshaping the room.

His eyes fixed on Kai once more. “Now, Duke Arzan, do you have anything to say?”

For a heartbeat, Kai froze. Then the realization hit.

This wasn’t a courtesy. This was an opportunity. Sullivan was offering him the chance to do what no one had ever dared before the entire gathered nobility of Lancephil.

He wanted him to do the thing they had discussed in the garden.

Slowly, Kai’s gaze swept the hall. He found Duke Blackwood. Their eyes met, and the Duke gave a subtle nod. A signal. A blessing.

Kai inhaled deeply, stood up and then stepped forward. His voice rang clear and he made sure that every single noble heard him.

“First of all, I wish to thank His Majesty and every noble who lent me their support in this Assembly of Judgment. I stand here because of you.”

He paused, letting the words sink in, his hand brushing against the weight hidden in his pocket.

“There are a million thoughts racing through my mind at becoming a Duke,” he continued, “but above all, there is something I have carried in my heart for a long time. And today, before you all, I will act on it.”

His fingers closed around the medallion. Slowly, he drew it forth into the light.

Gasps rippled through the chamber. Regina’s eyes widened, shock breaking through her carefully maintained poise. Some nobles blinked in confusion, others stiffened in sudden realization, the weight of the object’s significance dawning on them.

Kai held it up for all to see.

“Long ago, this medallion was given to my mother—Valkyrie Kellius. With it came the right of one wish. One wish the King himself was bound to fulfill.”

The chamber descended into tense, suffocating silence.

“And today,” Kai said, his eyes never leaving the throne, “I use it.”

King Sullivan leaned forward slightly, planting his hands on his knees. “What will it be, Duke Arzan?”

Kai didn’t hesitate. His answer struck like lightning, shattering the silence.

“I wish to contest for the throne.”

The words detonated in the hall.

***

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