Chapter 255: Witnesses

“Evidence can be interpreted many ways,” Vetra said, and her voice had changed.

Harder now, sharper, the maternal mask slipping like ice melting to reveal stone beneath. “But witnesses cannot be so easily dismissed.”

She gestured toward the chamber doors with theatrical precision.

“Bring them in.”

The doors opened, and three people entered the Grand Council Chamber. They wore common clothes, threadbare and soot-stained, the kind of garments that spoke of lives lived close to survival’s edge.

These were not nobles playing at poverty for sympathy. These were survivors of yesterday’s horror, bearing its marks on their bodies like accusations written in scar tissue.

The first witness was a woman, middle-aged, her hands wrapped in bandages that couldn’t quite hide the angry red of fresh burns beneath.

Her face bore scars too… one cheek puckered and discolored, her eyebrow singed away entirely. She trembled as she entered, whether from fear or remembered trauma, reader, one could not easily say.

“I saw her,” the woman said, raising one bandaged hand to point at Eris with the certainty of someone who’d rehearsed this moment. “The day before the attack. In the outer district, near where the demons came through.”

Her finger shook but stayed steady enough.

“She wore a hood, tried to hide her face. But I saw her white hair… that color, blending perfectly with the snow. Saw her strange face, the way she moved like she owned the streets.”

The woman’s voice grew stronger, more confident. “Watched her go into the old warehouse. The same warehouse where they found that circle.”

The room shifted. Nobles murmuring, gallery gasping, scribes scratching frantically across parchment to capture every word.

The second witness limped forward… an older man, his left leg badly burned, movement clearly painful despite whatever medicines the palace physicians had given him. His face was weathered, carved by years of hard labor and harder losses.

“My daughter died in the flames,” he said, voice breaking on the words like glass under pressure. “She was five years old. Five. Still learning to write her name.”

Some nobles shifted uncomfortably. Even in chambers built for political warfare, there were lines of decency one hesitated to cross.

Using a father’s grief, a child’s death, as ammunition in power games… it left bitter taste even among those who trafficked regularly in manipulation.

“I heard the fire witch brought demons to destroy us,” the man continued, and reader, you could hear the coaching in his words, the way certain phrases came out too smooth, too prepared.

“Because we didn’t want her as empress. Because we knew fire and ice shouldn’t mix. The gods themselves warned us, but the Emperor wouldn’t listen.”

The third witness was barely a man… perhaps twenty years old, his right arm ending in a bandaged stump where it should have continued to a hand.

The loss was fresh, the wound still seeping through clean wrappings. He looked uncertain, eyes darting between Vetra and the assembled nobles like a child who’d forgotten his lines.

“I was a guard,” he said haltingly. “At the warehouse. The night before the attack. Saw a woman enter around midnight, carrying something wrapped in cloth.” He swallowed hard. “Could have been ritual components. Could have been… I don’t know. She looked suspicious.”

His story was shaky, poorly rehearsed, the kind of testimony that fell apart under even gentle scrutiny. Whoever had coached him had done so hastily, without time for proper preparation.

Eris stood silent beside the evidence board, watching the witnesses with an expression one can only describe as unreadable.

Not angry, not defensive, not even particularly concerned. Just… watching. Calculating. Waiting for the right moment.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet. Almost gentle.

“When were you approached to tell this story?”

She looked directly at the woman, the first witness, the one whose testimony had been smoothest, most convincing.

The woman stammered. “I-I wasn’t… ”

“How much were you paid?”

Direct. Brutal. The kind of accusation that stripped away pretense and demanded truth.

The woman’s face began to crumble, cracks appearing in whatever composure she’d built.

“My house burned. I have nothing left. Nothing!” Her voice rose.

“You dare accuse me of bribery? Your Imperial Majesty… ” she turned to Soren desperately,

“… is this the woman you wish to rule over us? A woman who knows no sympathy? Who questions an injured soul?”

Eris remained silent. Calm as still water before it freezes.

Then she turned to address Soren directly, and reader, something in her voice changed. Became formal, ceremonial, as though sharing knowledge that had been closely guarded for generations.

“Your Majesty, in the Igniva household, we have a secret that we swore not to share with the world… but now I shall break the oath.”

Every eye in the chamber fixed on her. Even the witnesses stopped their performance to listen, curiosity overcoming fear.

“Our fire magic grants us the ability to detect when someone is telling a lie.”

The woman froze. The other two witnesses went pale as fresh snow.

Eris continued, voice carrying with perfect clarity across the silent chamber.

“When someone lies, their body makes tiny involuntary changes. Breathing shifts, becoming shallow or irregular. Heartbeat spikes, pulse visible in throat or temple. A little rush of heat appears in the neck or chest… invisible to most, but not to those trained in fire magic.”

She paused, letting that settle.

“Of course, this can’t be detected by a regular mage. Only the most skilled practitioners can sense these tiny changes in body temperature, can read the thermal signatures that betray deception.”

Her smile was cold, precise. “It’s why Igniva rulers were so effective at rooting out traitors. Why our court was so notoriously difficult to deceive.”

She turned back to the woman, who had gone deathly still.

“So. Are you ready to tell the truth?”

The woman crumbled like sand castles before tide.

“They said… ” she started crying, genuine tears now, not the practiced grief from before.

“They said I’d get compensation. Real compensation. Gold for testimony. That my family would be housed in the inner districts, protected, fed through winter.”

She looked at Vetra, and reader, the betrayal in that look was sharp enough to draw blood.

“You promised. Your lady came to me, showed me the gold, showed me the contract. Said it was just formality, that the evidence was already solid, they just needed witnesses to confirm what everyone already knew.”

Vetra’s face went cold. Not embarrassed, not caught… just cold, calculating, already working through how to salvage this disaster.

“You said,” the woman continued, voice rising with hysteria born of fear and betrayal both, “you said my daughter would have a dowry. That my son could apprentice with a master craftsman. That all I had to do was say I saw her, describe what you told me to describe.”

Soren stood, and when he spoke, his voice could have frozen fire itself.

“Who promised you this?”

The woman looked terrified, trapped between the Regent Empress and the Emperor, between conflicting powers and impossible choices. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again.

“The Regent’s lady-in-waiting,” she finally whispered. “Lady Isolde. She came with gold, with papers already written out. Said sign here, say these words exactly, and your family will be provided for.”

Every eye turned to Isolde, standing behind Vetra’s chair. She’d gone pale, trapped, mouth opening to protest but no words emerging.

The man spoke up then, the father who’d lost his daughter. “Same for me. A help from the household of Lord Viktor came at midnight, woke me from sleep. Said testify against the foreign bride, get a new house. One with a garden, he said. Where I could plant flowers in my daughter’s memory.”

And the young guard, barely more than a boy, his voice cracking: “I never saw anyone at the warehouse. Never. They told me what to say, made me practice it until I could say it without shaking. Said if I did this, they’d pension me out despite losing my arm, that I’d never have to worry about money again.”

The chamber descended into disbelief.

Nobles talking over one another, some demanding explanation, others calling for Isolde’s arrest, still others trying to salvage Vetra’s position.

The gallery erupted… courtiers murmuring accusations, scribes writing frantically, guards looking uncertainly between their emperor and the nobles calling for action.

And through it all, Vetra sat with her mask completely off, pure fury etched across features that had worn maternal concern moments before.

This was not how it was supposed to unfold. She’d bought witnesses, crafted evidence, orchestrated testimonies. And now it was unraveling faster than winter ice under spring sun.

Reader, she had not anticipated this.

Had not anticipated that Eris would possess skills beyond fire magic, that Igniva rulers carried knowledge dangerous enough to unmask even well-coached lies.

The game had shifted again.

And the board was on fire.

Duke Viktor Virelya stood so abruptly his chair fell backward, clattering against marble like bones breaking. His composure… that carefully maintained veneer of noble dignity… shattered completely.

“This proves nothing!” he roared, voice echoing off ice crystal ceiling. “So the witnesses were incentivized! Doesn’t make them liars! Every court in the empire uses paid testimony, compensates those who come forward with valuable information!”

He pointed at Eris with shaking hand, whether from rage or fear reader, even I could not say.

“The evidence remains! The timing remains! Two hundred and more deaths remain!” Spittle flew from his lips. “She must be held accountable! Must answer for what she brought to our doorstep!”

Marquess Theron Ashveil stood beside him, and his voice carried the weight of legal formality, of procedure being followed regardless of justice.

“I call formally for the arrest of Lady Eris Igniva on charges of mass murder, demon summoning, and treason against the Ice Empire.” Each word precise, calculated, spoken for the scribes recording every syllable. “To be held in palace cells pending full investigation by neutral parties.”

Vetra nodded, her expression settling into something harder, more determined. “I second this motion.”

Duke Aldren rose, ancient and traditional as stone, his support carried weight that Viktor’s rage and Theron’s legal maneuvering lacked. When conservatives like Aldren spoke, other conservatives listened.

“Third,” he said simply. “The evidence, however flawed, combined with the timing, demands action. We cannot appear to do nothing while our people grieve and fear.”

He looked directly at Soren, and the challenge in his gaze was unmistakable. “Your Majesty, you must put empire before personal feeling. Before attachment. Before whatever… enchantment… clouds your judgment.”

The room split down the middle like a frozen lake cracking.

Half the nobles stood, supporting the call for arrest. The other half remained seated, supporting their emperor, trusting his judgment over Vetra’s machinations.

The gallery divided too… courtiers shouting from both sides, voices rising in cacophony of accusation and defense.

“Arrest the witch!”

“She saved us!”

“Demon-summoner!”

“Dragon-blessed!”

“Murderess!”

“Hero!”

Chaos spread through the chamber like wildfire, violence threatening to erupt as nobles reached for ceremonial swords they’d worn to council, as guards looked uncertainly between their emperor and the nobles calling for action, as the very foundations of imperial authority began to shake.

And at the chamber’s head, Soren sat perfectly still, ice-blue eyes moving from face to face, cataloging every noble who stood against him, every voice raised in accusation against the woman he loved.

Reader, a decision was coming.

And it would determine not just Eris’s fate, but the future of the empire itself.

The question was… would the Ice Emperor choose duty or heart?

Would he sacrifice his bride to save his throne?

Or would he burn the throne itself to keep her safe?

The chamber held its breath.

And waited.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep