Chapter 75: Chapter 75: The Tribunal - Day One

Cathedral of Saint Alaric - Morning

The cathedral had been transformed. The pews removed. Rows of benches installed. A raised platform at the front where three judges sat—representatives of the Crown, chosen by King Aldwin himself.

In the center: High Justice Aldric Thorne. Sixty years old. Silver hair. Face like carved granite. Reputation for absolute fairness and zero tolerance for corruption.

To his left: Duchess Margaret of Ashford. Noble arbiter. Expert in inheritance law.

To his right: Archbishop Cornelius. Church representative. Here to ensure spiritual law was observed.

Behind them: the Crown’s banner. Gold lion on crimson field. A reminder—this was the King’s justice.

The gallery was packed. Every noble house within three days’ travel had sent representatives. Merchants. Clergy. Commoners who’d won lottery positions. Everyone wanted to see this.

The trial of Marcus Arclight. Heir apparent to the Duchy. Accused of patricide.

Draven sat in the front row. Duke Valerius beside him. Seraphina on his other side. Behind them—Elise, wearing her Dowager Duchess regalia. The other harem members scattered throughout the crowd. Hidden. Watching.

On the opposite side: Marcus. Flanked by two guards. Looking confident. Arrogant. Like this was a formality he’d walk through.

Beside him: Lord Redwyn. Baron Sterling. Both also under guard. Both looking less confident.

The trap was set.

High Justice Thorne struck his gavel. Three times. Sharp cracks that silenced the murmuring crowd.

"This tribunal is now in session. We are gathered to hear evidence regarding the death of Duke Aldric Arclight. The accused: Lord Marcus Arclight, heir apparent. Additional persons of interest: Lord Edmund Redwyn, Baron Garrett Sterling."

Marcus stood. "Your Honor, this is a farce. I demand to know the charges—"

"You will sit. You will be silent. You will speak only when addressed." Thorne’s voice cut like a blade. "This is not a negotiation. This is justice."

Marcus sat. Jaw clenched. Fury in his eyes.

"The prosecution will present its case," Thorne continued. "Duke Aldren Valerius, you may begin."

Valerius stood. Composed. Commanding. Every inch the royal advisor.

"Your Honors. Members of the gallery. We are here because Duke Aldric Arclight did not die of natural causes. He was murdered. Poisoned. By his own son. With the assistance of co-conspirators who sought personal gain from this heinous act."

Gasps from the crowd. Marcus’s face went pale.

"Over the course of this tribunal, we will present irrefutable evidence. Physical. Testimonial. Documentary. We will show you the poison used. The man who sold it. The letters planning it. The witnesses who saw it. And the financial records that funded it." Valerius paused. Let the weight sink in. "By the end, you will have no doubt. Marcus Arclight is a patricide. And he will face the Crown’s justice."

He sat.

Thorne nodded. "The defense may respond."

Marcus’s attorney stood. Some expensive lawyer from the capital. Paid in gold to defend the indefensible.

"Your Honors, my client maintains his innocence. Duke Aldric was elderly. Ill. His death was tragic but natural. Any suggestion otherwise is speculation motivated by family rivalry and political ambition."

Weak. Even the attorney knew it.

"Noted," Thorne said. "Prosecution, present your first evidence."

Valerius stood again. "I call Royal Physician Gareth to the stand."

An elderly man approached. Took the witness chair. Swore his oath.

"Dr. Gareth, you conducted the autopsy on Duke Aldric Arclight. State your findings."

"The Duke died of organ failure caused by concentrated nightshade poisoning. Specifically, a distilled extract administered over several weeks. The dosage increased toward the end, accelerating death." 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"Could this have been accidental? Medicinal?"

"No. Nightshade in therapeutic doses is rare and carefully controlled. The concentration found in the Duke’s system was fifty times the medicinal threshold. This was murder."

Murmurs through the crowd. Marcus shifting uncomfortably.

"How can you be certain it was nightshade?"

"Toxicology reports. Tissue samples. Blood analysis. The chemical signature is unmistakable." Gareth produced documents. "I’ve brought my full findings. Peer-reviewed. Verified by three independent physicians."

Valerius took the documents. Handed them to the judges. "Your Honors, I submit autopsy report A-1 through A-47. Complete toxicology findings."

The judges reviewed. Passed them amongst themselves. Duchess Margaret’s expression darkened. Archbishop Cornelius looked ill.

"These findings are... definitive," Thorne said. "Death by poisoning is confirmed. Continue."

Marcus’s attorney stood. "Objection. While poisoning is confirmed, nothing links my client to the poison’s administration—"

"We’re getting to that," Valerius said smoothly. "If the defense will be patient."

The attorney sat. Frustrated.

"I call our next witness. Tomas Greaves, proprietor of... shall we say, specialized alchemical supplies."

The old alchemist shuffled forward. Beaten. Scarred. But alive. And angry.

He took the stand. Swore the oath.

"Mr. Greaves, do you recognize the accused, Lord Marcus Arclight?"

"I do."

"How do you know him?"

"He came to my shop. Six weeks before Duke Aldric died. Bought six vials of concentrated nightshade extract. Paid in unmarked silver. Told me if I ever spoke of it, he’d have me executed."

The crowd erupted. Shouts. Gasps. The judges hammering gavels for order.

Marcus shot to his feet. "He’s lying! I’ve never seen this man—"

"SIT DOWN," Thorne roared. "You will have your turn to testify. Until then, silence or I will have you gagged."

Marcus sat. Trembling with rage.

"Mr. Greaves," Valerius continued calmly, "how can you be certain it was Lord Marcus?"

"I recognized his face. Seen it in society papers. Young. Arrogant. Dark hair. Arclight family ring on his finger." Greaves pointed. "That ring. The one he’s wearing right now."

Everyone looked. Marcus’s hand. The Arclight signet ring.

"And the poison. Can you describe it?"

"Concentrated nightshade. Purple tint. Meant to be diluted in liquid. Tasteless when mixed properly. Kills slowly over weeks if administered in small doses."

"Matching the autopsy findings."

"Exactly matching."

Valerius produced a sealed box. Opened it. Six vials. Purple liquid inside.

"Are these the same type of vials you sold to Lord Marcus?"

"Identical. Same supplier. Same concentration. Same purple tint."

"Your Honors, I present Evidence B-1 through B-6. Six vials of concentrated nightshade extract. Found in Lord Marcus’s private study. With labels in his own handwriting indicating dosage schedules."

He held up the vials. One by one. Each label visible.

"Night dose - 3 drops"

"Morning tea - 2 drops"

"Evening meal - 4 drops"

All in Marcus’s handwriting. All dated. All corresponding to the final weeks of Duke Aldric’s life.

The crowd’s noise grew. Angry shouts now. Calls for justice.

Marcus’s face was white. Bloodless. He’d hidden those vials. Locked them away. How did they—

He looked at Draven. Found him watching. Calm. Cold. Knowing.

You. You broke into my study. You STOLE—

But he couldn’t say it. Couldn’t admit the vials were his. Because that would confirm guilt.

"Mr. Greaves," the defense attorney said, standing. "How do we know you’re telling the truth? You could have been paid to say this. Coached—"

"I have receipts," Greaves said flatly. "Sales records. Dates. Amounts. Chemical formulas. Everything documented. Because I’m a professional. Even when I’m selling murder."

He produced a ledger. Valerius took it. Showed the judges.

Entry dated six weeks prior: "Nightshade extract - concentrated - 6 vials - 50 gold - Client: M.A."

M.A. Marcus Arclight.

"Furthermore," Valerius said, "we have corroborating testimony. I call Clara Whitmore to the stand."

The young maid approached. Nervous but determined. Took the oath.

"Miss Whitmore, you were employed by House Redwyn. Tell us what you witnessed two weeks ago."

"I... I overheard a meeting. In Lord Redwyn’s study. Between Lord Redwyn, Baron Sterling, and Lord Marcus."

Redwyn shot to his feet. "You lying little—"

"SILENCE," Thorne thundered. "Lord Redwyn, one more outburst and you’ll be removed."

Redwyn sat. Seething.

"Continue, Miss Whitmore."

"They were discussing the tribunal. Lord Redwyn said he’d arranged the introduction to the alchemist. Made sure the sale couldn’t be traced directly to Lord Marcus. Baron Sterling said he’d paid the court physicians to falsify the original cause of death. To call it natural illness instead of poisoning."

"And Lord Marcus? What did he say?"

"He thanked them. Said once he was Duke, they’d all be rewarded. That House Redwyn would get trade rights. Baron Sterling would get a military promotion. And..." She hesitated.

"Go on."

"And if the trial went badly, they had evidence prepared. Forged letters. To frame Lord Draven Arclight for the murder instead. To shift blame."

CHAOS.

The crowd roared. Nobles shouting. Commoners screaming for justice. The judges hammering gavels until order was restored.

"Your Honors," Valerius said, voice cutting through the noise. "I present Evidence C-1 through C-23. Letters from Lord Redwyn’s private study. Correspondence with the alchemist. Arrangements for Lord Marcus’s purchase. Financial records showing payments to corrupt physicians. And..." He produced three more documents. "The forged letters. Meant to implicate Lord Draven. With analysis from a handwriting expert showing they are, in fact, forgeries."

He laid them all out. One by one. A mountain of evidence.

Marcus looked at Redwyn. Redwyn looked at Sterling. Sterling looked at the exits.

Too late. Guards at every door.

"This tribunal is adjourned until tomorrow morning," Thorne said. His voice heavy. "The accused will be remanded to custody. The judges will review all submitted evidence tonight. We reconvene at dawn."

Gavel strike. Final.

Guards moved in. Surrounded Marcus, Redwyn, Sterling. Clapped them in irons.

"This is illegal!" Marcus shouted. "I’m heir You can’t—"

"You’re accused of patricide," Thorne said coldly. "You have no rights until proven innocent. Which, I suspect, you will not be."

They were dragged away. Marcus screaming. Redwyn silent. Sterling sobbing.

The crowd erupted. Cheering. Shouting. Justice would be served.

Draven stood. Caught Valerius’s eye. Nodded.

Day One complete.

The evidence presented.

The trap sprung.

Tomorrow, the verdict.

[ Tribunal Day 1: SUCCESS]

[Public opinion: 95% convinced of guilt]

[Judges: Reviewing evidence overnight]

[Quest Progress - "Family Matters": 99.5% complete]

That Evening - Valerius Estate

"That went better than expected," Valerius said. He poured wine for both of them. "The judges were shocked. The crowd was convinced. Marcus’s defense fell apart immediately."

"He didn’t have a defense," Draven said. "Just arrogance and denial."

"True. But I expected him to at least try. To claim the vials were planted. To suggest you’d fabricated the evidence."

"He couldn’t. Because that would require admitting the vials were hidden in his study. Which only he and I knew." Draven sipped his wine. "Checkmate. No matter what he said."

"And Redwyn. Did you see his face when Clara testified?"

"Pure panic. He thought his servants were loyal."

"Money only buys loyalty until someone offers more. Crown protection and a new identity beat whatever Redwyn was paying." Valerius smiled. "Tomorrow the judges will deliver their verdict. Guilty. All three of them. Possibly more as we expose the other conspirators."

"And then?"

"And then public execution. Three days after verdict. Cathedral plaza. The Crown makes an example."

"Good."

They sat in comfortable silence. Two conspirators who’d won.

"After this," Valerius said, "you’ll be Duke. Officially. The Crown will approve your succession. You’ll have everything you planned for."

"Yes."

"Because Marcus was a threat to stability. To the kingdom. And because you’re better." Valerius raised his glass. "You’re ruthless. Calculating. But you’re also fair. You care about your people. Your women. Your family. Marcus cared only about himself."

"Thank you."

"Don’t thank me. Just be a good Duke. That’s all I ask."

"I will."

They drank. Tomorrow would bring victory. Justice. Everything they’d worked for.

Tomorrow, Draven would become Duke.

And Marcus would die.