The tension in the courtroom was a living thing, crackling in the air as the trial dragged into its final stretch. Kerrigan sat at the front, her gaze steady, but inside, she could feel the relentless pressure of the past few months building.Every delay, every twisted statement, every loophole that Gregor and Kelan Benedict exploited had worn her patience thin. The media storm outside was ruthless, the Benedicts weaving lies and fabrications about her and Conor, turning the public’s perception of them into a battlefield.But today, the Benedicts were running out of time, and both sides could sense it.Kelan stood, his movements deliberate as he approached the front of the courtroom. His usually smug face was now set with the determination of a cornered animal.Conor could feel Kerrigan tense beside him, sensing the change in the air. Kelan had something planned. but the more he looked at the man, the more Conor wondered if Kelan had been feeling the stress of the last few weeks as mu

The courtroom was tense, the air heavy with the anticipation of what was to come. The walls of the grand hall seemed to close in, the once-vibrant banners of the kingdom’s crest hanging like a judgmental audience over the proceedings.Conor’s presentation of the ancient scrolls had left the nobles and the High Council in a stunned silence. The echoes of the scribe’s voice reading aloud the punishments—the loss of titles, lands, even the death sentence—hung in the room like a noose.Kerrigan could feel the shift, the palpable unease among the gathered nobles. The trial had taken an unexpected turn, and for the time, the Benedicts were truly on the defensive.Conor stood beside her, his calm presence a steady anchor in the storm of tension. Yet, across the courtroom, she saw the panic etched on Gregor’s face, his eyes darting toward the King’s throne, seeking a lifeline.Gregor Benedict, once the proud and unshakabl

The murmur of unrest had started as a faint whisper in the marketplaces and taverns of Jinstain, but now it had grown into a roar that echoed across the kingdom. News of the trial’s latest developments had spread like wildfire—Conor’s revelation of the ancient scrolls, Gregor’s desperate attempts to sway the court, and the King’s thunderous intervention. The entire kingdom was watching, and the people were no longer content to remain silent.Kerrigan stood at the window of her temporary chambers in the capital, looking out over the city below. What she saw was a kingdom divided. The streets were filled with people—merchants, farmers, laborers, and nobles alike—gathered in clusters, engaged in heated debates. Some bore banners that called for justice against the Benedicts, emblazoned with slogans like “No One Is Above the Law” and “Protect the Dragons’ Covenant.” Others, however, held signs in support of the King, proclaiming, “Loyalty to the Crown” and “Order Before Chaos.”The trial

That night, as they sat in their quarters, Kerrigan spoke first. “The King will never truly hold Kelan accountable. He’s too valuable to him and his limited control over Gregor. The moment the trial ends, Kelan will find a way back to power or at least live in comfort, and nothing will change.”Conor stared out into the night, the city below still restless with the echoes of protest and dissent. The King’s ultimatum hung over them like a storm cloud, and every instinct told him that they were at a crossroads.Yet the path forward felt obscured, and the weight of the decision before them was crushing. The King had offered them a way out—a false peace that would preserve his power but betray everything they had fought for. And Conor knew, deep down, that they were running out of options.Kerrigan sat beside him, her face set in grim determination, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “We can’t accept his terms. This isn’t just about the Benedicts anymore. It’s about the so

The morning sun cast an eerie glow over the capital, its light unable to cut through the tension that gripped the city. The High Council chamber, once a place of measured debate and quiet authority, had become a battleground of conflicting loyalties and simmering anger.Councilors who had spent years crafting laws and advising rulers now found themselves at odds, the trial having driven a wedge through their ranks. The once-unified body was on the verge of tearing itself apart.Conor and Kerrigan entered the chamber, feeling the weight of every stare, every whispered conversation. The trial had reached a critical juncture, and the pressure was palpable.The King’s ultimatum from the previous night hung over them like a dark cloud, but Conor and Kerrigan were not here to be swayed—they were here to stand their ground.The councilors took their seats, the tension almost tangible as the proceedings began. At the head of the room sat Lord Bravik of Pinon, the council’s most senior member,