Free Web NovelChapter 330: Chapter 330
The words hung in the air like thick smoke, heavy and acrid, clinging to the vaulted ceiling of the throne room. For a heartbeat, there was stunned silence then the murmurs erupted anew, louder this time, sharpened with outrage and disbelief.
A lord draped in velvet coat leaned toward his neighbor, muttering something about "the demon spawn being a scourge upon the land," his lip curling with open contempt. Nearby, a lady pressed a lace handkerchief to her mouth and fanned herself dramatically, as though the revelation alone might rob her of breath.
Ragnar forced himself to remain still.
He made a deliberate effort to ignore one particular presence in the chamber, a man whose cunning stare bored into him more keenly than the shackles biting into his wrists.
Laheir Tavish stood at the base of the dais, hands clasped behind his back, his expression one of barely concealed amusement. He looked less like a concerned courtier and more like a spectator enjoying a finely staged play, clearly savoring every accusation being heaped upon Ragnar’s name.
The iron links around Ragnar’s wrists clinked softly as he shifted his weight. His gaze dropped to the parchment held aloft by the herald. The script was a passable imitation of his own handwriting. Good, but not perfect. The ink was darker than the one he usually used. It was also too fresh on the page like it had been written not too long ago, and the parchment was far too pristine for a missive that had supposedly traveled rough roads and passed through countless hands.
Forged, every word of it. As bought and polished as the witnesses now lined up to condemn him.
If the situation were not so dire, he might have admired the queen’s thoroughness. She had not merely accused him, she had woven a noose from strands of outright lies and presented it as truth.
Still, Ragnar said nothing. He let the spectacle unfold, allowed the court its theater. His father sat upon the throne above it all, his face carved from stone, eyes revealing neither belief nor doubt. The queen, however, permitted herself a faint, knowing smile, small enough to escape everyone’s notice, except Ragnar’s. This was her web, meticulously spun, and he was the fly she had long intended to crush.
The herald folded the letter with care and turned to face Ragnar fully.
"Prince Ragnar," he announced, voice ringing through the chamber, "you have heard the testimonies and seen the evidence laid before the crown. What do you say in your defense?"
Silence descended once more. Every gaze in the room fixed upon Ragnar, hungry for a reaction, any sign of fear, or defiance from the notoriously elusive prince.
He gave them none.
Slowly, Ragnar lifted his chin. The chains rustled as they shifted against one another. His eyes swept across the court in a calculating manner. It was the look of a general surveying the field before deciding where to strike. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm and even, carrying effortlessly through the throne room.
"May I speak in my defense, Your Majesty?"
King Zeriel studied him for a long moment. At last, he inclined his head. "You may."
Ragnar exhaled softly, then turned his attention to Edric.
"You claim," Ragnar began, his tone almost conversational, "that you overheard soldiers sworn to me discussing treason in a tavern. Soldiers who, according to you, spoke freely of rebellion, alliances, and military support." His eyes narrowed just slightly. "Tell me, Edric Vale, how did you know they were my soldiers?"
Edric blinked, visibly startled. "They—well—they said so, Your Highness."
The murmurs swelled again, rippling through the gathered courtiers.
Ragnar arched a brow. "They announced it?" A quiet huff of disbelief escaped him. "In a public tavern. To strangers. While plotting treason."
Edric’s mouth opened, then closed, words failing him.
"No," Ragnar continued, taking a measured step closer, the chains clinking softly with the movement. "Did they wear my crest? The raven of House Acheron? Did you see my banner among them?" His voice sharpened. "Name one officer. One captain. One soldier whose face you remember clearly enough to recognize again."
Edric’s hands twisted together. "I—I don’t recall names, Your highness. But they spoke with certainty." freёweɓnovel.com
"With certainty," Ragnar echoed coolly. He turned slightly, addressing the court at large now. "Any soldier under my command knows better than to discuss military matters in public, let alone treason. Taverns are where secrets go to die. Even the greenest recruit understands that."
His gaze snapped back to Edric. "What was the tavern called?"
Edric hesitated. "I—It was along the northern road."
"That was not my question," Ragnar said, his eyes narrowing further.
The man swallowed hard. "I don’t recall the name."
"And the date?" Ragnar pressed. "The hour? The weather that night, perhaps? Surely such a momentous discovery would leave some impression."
Edric’s eyes flicked, just briefly, toward the queen.
Ragnar saw it. So did the king.
"I see," Ragnar said quietly, the words carrying more weight than any shout. "You overheard treason, yet waited two months to report it. You remember the words spoken, but not where you were, who said them, or how you confirmed their loyalty to me." He stepped back, dismissing Edric with the ease one might dismiss a poorly trained soldier. "Your testimony rests entirely on what you claim you heard and nothing more."
Turning toward the throne, Ragnar inclined his head slightly. "Unlike Mr. Edric here, who struggles to recall even the simplest details, I can recall dates perfectly fine. Over half of my troops never returned from Westeria after the war. They were ordered to remain behind to aid in rebuilding our newest colony at the behest of your Majesty."
His voice remained unwavering. "Two months ago, the remainder were with me, scouring the area surrounding the eastern mountainside as we prepared to ambush a rebel encampment. I highly doubt my men possess the ability to be in two locations at once. And if they did, I assure you they would have informed me."
