Chapter 38:
The Barrister From Beyond
The corridors of Kaisergrad’s castle were a complete mess. Panic filled the air. Torches, fixed in their iron holders, cast flickering, jumping shadows that made the heavy stone walls seem to twist and move. Nobles scurried past me, their silk robes swishing with frantic speed. They moved like a startled swarm of rats caught suddenly in a heavy rainstorm. Servants, normally quiet and out of sight, darted between the massive columns, their voices reduced to fearful, hurried whispers about the war that had just begun. Guards, their faces drawn tight with worry, gripped their long spears. Their eyes were wide and constantly moving, searching for order that simply wasn't there. I strode through this chaos, the immense form of Jaeger lumbering confidently at my side, a solid wall of calm in the frantic stream of people.
The news had hit the capital like a massive stone thrown into a pond. The powerful nobles had just learned of Fredreich's invasion, an attack launched toward the Blutklamm pass without any council approval. Worse, they couldn't find the King. He had vanished into his private chambers, leaving his entire government to drown in the sudden storm he had created. They were desperate, exposed, and angry.
We reached the great hall. It was a wide room filled with confused, frantic energy. A tight cluster of lords and ladies, the most powerful people in Mittengrad, stood huddled together. Their faces were pale and drawn, every sign of aristocratic calm and breeding completely gone. They were just afraid people.
The gray-haired officer from Eisenfurst, whom I recognized from the disastrous diplomatic dinner, spotted me immediately. His face was a mask of cold fury and raw fear. He pushed through the crowd toward me, pointing a shaking finger.
“Aizawa, where is Fredreich?” he demanded, his voice thin and sharp with panic. “His legions marched without council approval. We are completely blindsided by this madness!”
A noblewoman from Feldheim, clutching a heavy, expensive shawl tightly around her shoulders, stepped forward. Her voice trembled like a small leaf caught in a strong wind. “My scouts report heavy fighting at Blutklamm right now. Our sons are dying! Where is he hiding from his own council?”
I raised a calming hand, a simple gesture meant to force their eyes to meet mine and focus. I kept my posture relaxed, allowing my low, even voice to cut through their high-pitched fear and panic.
“Lords, ladies, you have already seen the truth,” I stated simply, using the clear, straightforward language of the courtroom. “You know the evidence. The watchtower attack, which Fredreich used as his reason for this war, was a lie. Mittengrad’s own royal fire magic, not Urian forces, left the fragments at that watchtower.”
I watched their faces closely. Doubt was already firmly planted in their minds, and now that doubt was quickly breeding fear of their own King.
“This war is based on a lie, and it is failing before it even truly begins,” I continued, pressing my advantage firmly. “Eisenfurst and Feldheim signed treaties guaranteeing your neutrality in this conflict. Luxion stands with Queen Ambrose. If you simply refuse to aid Fredreich’s campaign, you have absolutely nothing to fear from Ur.”
The officer’s eyes narrowed, his confusion battling his last scrap of loyalty to the Crown. “You’re certain his offensive will collapse?” he asked, needing one final, absolute assurance to justify his next move.
I gave a firm, unwavering nod. “My allies, Faelar and Lucius, are highly skilled commanders and they hold the pass now. Lianne's Elven forces are marching from Luxion to join them. Fredreich’s legions are stretched thin and exposed in the mountains. His commanders are divided and confused by his sudden, rash orders. This is not a strong attack; it is a desperate blunder.”
The noblewoman from Feldheim finally exhaled, a long, shaky breath that was heavy with relief. Hope flickered brightly in her wide eyes. “Then we stand with you,” she declared, her voice now steady with a sudden, strong conviction. “No men of Feldheim will fight for him. We will recall our levies from the border immediately.”
A stout, red-faced lord, his loyalty still stubbornly clinging to the monarchy, scoffed loudly in protest. “You trust this outsider? Fredreich’s our King! He will execute us all for this betrayal!”
But his voice was immediately drowned out by a surging wave of dissent. The hall split instantly. Nobles began murmuring agreement with the woman from Feldheim. They were no longer afraid of a distant queen they barely knew, but of their absent, reckless King who had endangered their sons and their political standing. More nobles quickly pledged neutrality, and a powerful few, realizing the political tide had turned completely, even swore tacit support for Ur. The entire foundation of Fredreich’s rule was visibly cracking and crumbling, right there in his own great hall.
As the murmurs swelled into a roar, a lone guard in Fredreich’s heavy, black livery, his helm shadowing his face completely, caught my eye from the edge of the large crowd. He raised a gloved hand, holding it still for a moment, clearly signaling me to follow him. I gave a quick nod to Jaeger, who instantly tensed but stayed rooted in his spot, his gaze scanning the hall for any hidden threat to me. I slipped through the throng of angry nobles, the guard leading me quickly to a shadowed corner near a dark tapestry depicting Mittengrad’s royal crest. This spot was far away from the chaotic noise of the nobles.
“The King awaits you in the east garden,” the guard said, his voice low and intensely urgent, barely a breath. “You must come alone. He said he has a final offer.”
My pulse thundered violently in my ears. Fredreich’s arrogant smirk from the banquet table, the one that promised pain and humiliation, burned brightly in my mind, stoking the rising rage within me. I was done with his childish games, his obvious lies, and his destructive war. My hand slipped instantly to the poisoned dagger concealed in my coat pocket, Faelar’s vital gift. Its weight was cold and certain in my grip. I nodded sharply to the guard, my jaw tight, a cold, focused rage blazing in my eyes. “Lead on.”
He guided me through a maze of dim corridors. The castle’s chaos began to fade quickly behind us: nobles shouting, servants fleeing, and the torches flickering like dying stars. My grip on the dagger tightened with every step, the All-Mother’s cryptic words echoing in the silence: A path of blood and sacrifice. Fredreich had started this reckless war, betrayed his own people for a selfish revenge, and publicly mocked my justice. Whatever final trap he planned in that garden, I swore I would end it. I had to do what was necessary, not just for Amber, but for the justice I had crossed worlds to finally uphold.
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