Chapter 467: Chapter 467- Trial of Rhabanz Dreau 2

‘Plea?’

Kira repeated in her head as she narrowed her gaze.

‘That wasn’t part of the plan.’

It was rather simple, really.

The King chooses one of his High Table members to call out the charges, then he finalises it by pronouncing him guilty of all charges and sentencing him to death.

‘None of it was meant to be just.’

Her gaze slowly drifted down the hall.

Facing them directly on a higher pulpit than the rest was the L.A.W.

And all her answers came from them.

Their presence alone was enough to hinder their plans.

‘So he has to appease the L.A.W. one way or the other…’

The King was one thing, as their lineage was chosen by the goddess to lead them for centuries to come, but the L.A.W. had been another.

Something quite different.

They were chosen by a past King and bestowed the higher regard when it came to law-making and judicial decisions.

This was done to check future corruption in place.

‘One would say the Royal Household had been once just…’

But now, every decision they chose to follow was based on merit for themselves.

In the L.A.W.s’ presence, the King could not afford to sentence Rhabanz unjustly, as that would incur their opposition.

‘But does it really matter?’

She glanced at the Accused.

The middle-aged man was still on his feet. Physically, he appeared to be present, but she could tell he was mentally anywhere but here.

‘His pleas will be nonsensical gibberish in the end.’

Back to the three tall pupits hosting each arm of the Law, the third cleared his throat and whisked over a few pages of his book.

In this silence, that subtle movement had caused enough stir to pull the attention of those around him.

But that was exactly what he wanted.

Without much speech, or movement, he had made their presence imposing once more.

“Now that you’re back in control of yourselves, we shall continue the trial.”

His ancient voice exuded patience and wisdom. Factors he had imposed on himself over the years.

And the crowd did nothing to impose his statement.

“Rhabanz Dreau.”

He began as his voice rose to a deep, rich tone.

The accused was immediately pulled by the authority that escaped from it.

“Before this council, how do you plead?”

His question held the weight of the Hall, and everyone leaned at the corner of their seats in anticipation of a reply that could define a world of events.

Though to most, what he said didn’t matter… the end was inevitable.

It all led down a road of crows.

The anticipation lingered as Rhabanz swayed on the Podium.

His head hung low and his arms drifted loosely into the air.

There was no point anymore… not much of a choice in making a point.

But, for his name… and the people he would leave behind, he knew what he said at this moment meant the world.

As he stood amid chaos, the world around him began to sway.

His thoughts churned at him, and when he built the courage to speak his mind, something strange happened.

Foreign even, took control… and his lips locked shut.

‘Hah… what’s this?’

A few seconds passed, then a minute, and still, a reply was yet to come.

Of course, something like that wouldn’t be left unnoticed.

The crowd had begun to stir.

“Hm. Hm.”

Before they could lose control once again, the first cleared his throat quickly to grab their attention.

Like flocks, it was easy for the multitude of similar minds to be moved by even the simplest of actions.

Something he picked up during his experience as a Lawyer.

“Silence would do you no good.. Rhabanz Dreau. Speak your plea.”

Still, nothing ever came.

Logan arched his brow in startlement and the people had begun to cause more than a stir now.

Rhabanz’s silence, according to the law, would be an acceptance of the accusations laid against him, but that would make him a traitor.

And not only would it affect him, but the entirety of the Dreau Household and further investigations on all Households in some form of connection with the Dreaus.

It was evident that many knew this and some had already begun to express their concerns.

Though, to the King and Kira Merlin, his silence meant something else.

‘Something’s wrong.’

Kira thought to herself as she straightened her posture in her chair.

At that moment, Derrick had turned to her with an arched brow, curiosity etched all around him.

“Lady Kira?”

He muttered.

More to himself than to her.

It was a minuscule change, but she had moved on her seat, and Derrick had seen it clearly.

‘Is she… uneasy?’

But that didn’t make sense.

He knew far too well that the whole situation was assigned by the King and the Witch of the West.

Two twisted minds coming together only to lose control is highly… implausible.

He glanced at Rhabanz, whose expression seemed even, despite the uneasiness his silence caused.

A frown formed on his face.

‘Something’s wrong.’

Over at the Throne, the King had since lost his smile.

His gaze lingered on the Accused before him, but the man’s expression… his calm.

‘This isn’t Rhabanz.’

“Rhabanz Dreau! We will bring your sentence if you remain silent!”

The first spoke once again, his warning evident, and the crowd began to rise in protest.

“His silence doesn’t speak for him!”

“Unacceptable! The public will not accept this!”

“His sentence doesn’t define the rest of us!”

“Let him speak!”

At this point, confusion and conflict were beginning to spark.

Its tendrils threaten to ignite into a flame of defiance.

The King glanced around in silence… brooding quietly while High Nobles and Powerful figures within the public screamed and protested like they were a pen of chickens.

It disgusted him. Enraged him, but his anger wasn’t allowed to break loose, as the world seemed to come to a halt when the Accused spoke once more.

“Fools.”

Goosebumps spawned over the warrior’s skin like a breakout of hives.

Hearts of great men and women skipped a beat before rapidly beating like it was powering a madman in a marathon.

The silence was sickening, but the tension was worse.

Danger signs flared to life, but the people never stopped staring at the Accused on the Podium.

No. In fact, they focused their entire being on him.

Because the same thought haunted every single one in that room.

The moment they took their eyes off… they would see blood. Their blood.

In the depths of the gazes of the majority, an all too familiar emotion lay bare for all to see. All too human. Dread.

But the minority simply stood wary, and even their wariness bordered on discomfort and fear.

“Humans are all too predictable.”

Rhabanz spoke once more.

No… not Rhabanz. Someone else. Or was it… something else?

Its voice was cracked, yet wet.

It was ice cold, but it held the warmth of the flames of Hades.

It was deep, hollow and hungry.

Like an ancient chorister in a band of depraved musicians.

His aura was something more of a bad omen that felt too familiar… too deceptive. Miasma.

It flowed out of the man’s body like a torrent of mild wind.

A wave of dark red energy that took to the air like smoke from a forest fire.

“You gather like rats, delude yourselves into believing that you are the superior being…”

At that moment, the man’s body convulsed, shuddering with a violent, unnatural rhythm. A chorus of grotesque sounds filled the air—wet, twisting echoes that curdled the silence.

Bones splintered with sharp cracks, flesh writhed and churned, and tendons snapped like taut strings pulled past breaking. Before their eyes, Rhabanz’s form began to contort, twisting in ways no human body was ever meant to move.

“…only to act like the beasts you look down on.”

Blood seeped from the corners of his eyes, trailing down his face in thin, sinister streams. His arms warped and stretched, grotesque and brittle like the twisted branches of a dead tree. Slowly, his body began to rise, the old form consumed by a shrouding darkness—a darkness that whispered of despair and cried of impending doom.

“You came to bind this man to death, did you not?”

The Throne room hummed with danger, and the people… once brought together by a cause were now faced with an unprecedented situation that called for their graves.

The air was beginning to grow stale with miasma, and the Heads of the Households had begun to take action.

The King who was on his Throne, had felt the ghastliest amount of dread as he sat closest to the wretched being.

Unable to move, he simply stared dead straight into the eyes of the abyss.

And he begged to look away.

The twisted form of the being had cast a shadow over the Throne, and its energy had consumed the entirety of the Throne room.

The pressure it exuded rained down on the humans like bolts of lightning that shook them to the bones.

Many fell, few staggered to their knees, miniscule stood. But one… sat?

The Captain of the Imperial Guard and the Commander of the Imperial Knights had quickly rushed to his rescue on the first notice of danger.

And they felt it years ago.

Standing side by side in the presence of their King, they pointed their weapons at the imposing creature.

Pleading to their goddess for the safety of their lives and those around them.

The creature didn’t seem to care though. No, not at all.

Its head, which was a crown of thorns, housed two black orifices that cried blood, and a loose mouth bent in a sadistic grin.

“Foolish Mortals.”

It said as its grin widened and its eyes turned to curved slits.

“I am the 5th Knight of the Devil King, the Mad King.”

The World stilled.

“What harm could you possibly inflict on me?”