“Do you understand and intend to comply with the procedures laid out in your trial, Lucian Villamar?”

  Lucian stood before a judge in a room in the Concord he’d never thought he’d enter. Maybe that was a bit foolish on his part. After all, no matter how hard he tried to run from it, the past of the body that he was inhabiting wouldn’t simply go away. At some point, he would have to reap what he hadn’t sowed. And that time had come.

  He nodded. “I understand and intend to comply.”

  The judge—a middle-aged, unassuming man that he wasn’t familiar with, nodded. “Very well. As you’re from a noble house, you’re judged to have sufficient ties to the land as to allow you freedom of movement. You’re not likely to become a fugitive. No restrictions will be placed upon you.”

  That was fancy dressing for saying that nobles had a few more privileges than the common folk. That was a compromise that needed to be made for this city of Verne to function. It was rather lax treatment to be giving a potential murderer, but Lucian had become a staunch advocate for noble rights ever since he started benefitting from them.

  “You’ll be granted a period of one week to find counsel,” the judge said. “If you haven’t procured it by then, it’ll be assumed you’ll be defending yourself. Even though the Treaty of Verne that lays out international law has been burnt, all four chancellors have agreed that it will be used during this trial.”

  “Including Duke Cyril Villamar?” Lucian asked.

  “…yes,” the judge confirmed. He looked up at Lucian. “You’re free to go.”

  Without staying to ask further questions, Lucian turned and left the judiciary chamber. It wasn’t exactly a court—this was an international arbitration panel designed to resolve legal disputes between the four great powers in a fair judgment process, divorced from the politics that the chancellors could bring to the table.

  A trial. This wasn’t an enemy that he could kill—this was a process that could last months, weighing over each and every thing he did. Even if it didn’t come to anything, the fact that it was ongoing would prove to a major hindrance, one Lucian wasn’t quite sure how he was going to deal with it.

  Lucian exited the room. The moment that he did, someone walked up to him and blocked his path.

  “Excuse me,” the person said. Lucian eyed the man briefly.

  “Walter?” Lucian asked in surprise. This was the servant that had been his butler in his apartment—well, former apartment. He got kicked out, and now he was living in the Collegium dormitories.

  Walter held out an intricately carved box. “Your father sent this over. A gift.” He opened the box.

  Within on a velvet pillow was a silver shield that bore the crest of House Villamar—a butterfly. Lucian laughed after seeing it. Last time they’d spoken, he’d denounced House Villamar. His supposed father, Duke Cyril, was offering protection if he would think first of the Villamar family once more. The intended message couldn’t be clearer. But the message Lucian got was much simpler.

  Lucian’s own father was having him tried for murder, all for some PR victory.

  “He inquires if you intend to join him for lunch,” Walter said. “He would welcome you.”

  Lucian scoffed, then moved along without providing an answer. He stopped in his tracks.

  Wait… I can sell the shield.

  Lucian doubled back, took the box, and then resumed his slightly less dignified departure. He moved quickly, making it to the Concord’s main chamber before heading out to the stairs that led back to the Collegium itself. Along the way, he saw some workers that hadn’t been there when he’d arrived. They were working on the stairs.

  “What are you doing?” Lucian asked them.

  “Putting a ramp in,” the worker explained.

  Lucian shook his head. Weeks of seeing Miriam struggle to climb that thing with her prothesis, but Duke Cyril Villamar shows up and they handle it right away. It was a perfect way to demonstrate the influence that Cyril had over this place. It was a perfect way of illustrating precisely the sort of man he was up against.

  But Lucian wasn’t alone—not anymore.

  ***

  Lucian walked up to a mirror and looked at himself. Long gray hair, sharp yellow eyes, a permanently resting condescending smile, and a tall, fit body… certainly not the sort of man that screamed innocent. At least he was handsome. Hopefully he got a largely female jury, or men with certain inclinations. Should he cut the hair to look more formal and respectable? He’d grown used to longer hair, admittedly, and Lucian’s hair was quite nice.

  “Will this place work?”

  Lucian turned around to look at the second prince of the Empire of Riverra, Denzel. The man was his cousin, quite similar in appearance excepting his red eyes. Lucian looked around the cottage that he’d procured. Lucian was surprised that he was able to put together a secluded rural cottage this quickly, but that was royalty for him. And standing behind Denzel, sitting politely out of the way… Aurelia of Heavenwatch Monastery.

  In every way that he could imagine, Aurelia was the opposite of Lucian. Her talent was sky-high—his was at the bottom. Her reputation was stellar despite her monstrous nature—he was being tried for murder, among other things. Garbed in a robe of luxurious-looking black fur, her black hair and golden eyes added to the bewitching beauty she exuded. This was to be her home, as well as the place where he met with the people of Heavenwatch Monastery.

  “I distinctly remember requesting a prison,” Lucian said. “But I’ll make do. Next, if you could find some shackles, strong chains… maybe a crucifix?”

  “It’s lovely, Denzel,” Aurelia urgently butted in. “Thank you for doing this. It couldn't have been easy to find such a wonderful place on such short notice.” She fluttered her eyelids at him and smiled.

  Denzel, fortunately, preferred to spend his time studying the blade. Immune to her charms, he said dryly, “As a prince, I have much land. It was no trouble.” He looked to Lucian. “If you’re satisfied with this place, let’s talk.”

  Lucian gestured outside, then shot a glare at Aurelia before leaving. They came out to a verdant countryside that was only a fair distance away from the Lurund River leading to Verne. This was the only building for a long way, and it was concealed by some dense forests.

  “This place was owned by a lumberjack.” Denzel looked around. “The trees should keep it from any prying eyes. But… I’ve a thought.”

  “What?”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Denzel stared at Lucian. “Considering what you’re facing, do you want to keep this relationship with the monastery hidden? That could be a huge moral advantage. They’re very well-respected around the continent.”

  Lucian looked back at the cottage. “Moral advantages won’t block a demonic assassination. If they think we’re allied, the demons will send people after me, if only on the off chance I know their secrets. That’s a complication I don’t need.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “Anyway, some of the monastics will be patrolling the forests,” Lucian said. “And they’ll also be guarding this place. The thing I’m worried most about is being followed.”

  Denzel nodded. “I think I can arrange some covert transportation… but you might have to squeeze in underneath some supplies or something of the sort.”

  “Perfect.” Lucian exhaled. “Any new details about the nightmare that I’m facing?”

  Denzel walked in front of him. “They want to have a show trial for you. Something to publish in newspapers around the continent.”

  Lucian laughed, and then sat down on the ground. “Of course. Why would I expect anything different?”

  “Cyril expects you’ll break, come to him begging and pleading,” Denzel said. “If you don’t… the three other great powers intend to tear into you. They have some of the best legal minds coming to Verne. All of them are major, major figures.”

  “So, they’re developing a team of top minds to ruin my life. As I’m coming to terms with my cruel reality, you’re giving me excellent reasons to curl up and die,” Lucian said distantly.

  “I’ll be blunt.” Denzel kneeled. “You should cooperate with Cyril. It might be humiliating… but the alternative is trial. It’ll be a fair trial, but…”

  “But I’d be fair and squarely doomed. Sentenced to a thousand years in some underwater prison beneath Verne.”

  “Executed, actually,” Denzel said soberly.

  Lucian laid back on the grass. If he were in a sensible reality, cooperating with Duke Cyril would probably be the sensible thing to do. But his situation was total nonsense. The only upside to this, maybe, would be the fact that people wouldn’t be so eager to assassinate him when there was a legal path to his death. People could put up with a little red tape if it meant legally murdering him.

  When that’s my upside, things are truly desperate, Lucian thought.

  “Your father’s a fair man,” Denzel said, rising back to his feet and pacing around. “On top of that, I’d be willing to weigh in on your behalf. You wouldn’t be student auxiliary any longer, and you’d likely face penalties of other kinds… but as you’ve seen, Cyril has power. True power, even in Verne.”

  Lucian had considered it more than a few times. Bending the knee. But that removed him from the position of auxiliary to the Student Ambassadors—meaning he wouldn’t be able to tag along for the story missions. Considering that was where most of the blessings and the purified essences were, he’d essentially be losing routes for growth. Growth was more important than ever, following numerous time delays.

  There was another way that he could solve this, of course. A filibuster. Delay, delay, delay—and eventually, the demons would come and force the trial into dissolution. It’d be hard to care about Lucian Villamar, resident rich disasterpiece, when demons were breaking into people’s windows trying to suck the bone marrow right out of their bodies. The First Emperor was just a touch eviler than Lucian Villamar had been.

  “Plus… there’s the fact that the evidence is largely against you,” Denzel reminded him. “The murder of Sancar Alkoyen probably doesn’t have enough evidence to make you guilty of that, but the rest is… compelling.”

  Sancar Alkoyen. Lucian remembered some of the real Lucian Villamar’s dialogue from his challenge run in the War of Four.

  I never killed him, Lucian insisted. No denying I had my faults with the man, and I certainly was there when he died, but… murder? There’s simply no joy in that. Better to suffer others to live.

  It sounded suspicious, even to him. Had Lucian done it? Murder? He was quite weak. It seemed dubious these awful arms of his could enact a murder. Besides, he had other thoughts.

  “Or… how about this?” Lucian proposed, sitting up. He waved his arms grandly as he read off an article he envisaged in a newspaper. “Lucian Villamar, exonerated before the sympathetic eyes of millions. Unfairly maligned as a villain, he’s the most sympathetic figure in the world after his trial. Everyone was wrong about him. People are writing apology letters by the thousands, but their quantities are dwarfed by the number of love letters!”

  Denzel stared at him coldly. “You want to have fantasies, share them with your fiancée. Me? I have better things to do.”

  “She’s not my…” Lucian exhaled in exhaustion. “It was a joke.”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re not getting exonerated. There’s no denying you’ve changed. I think I’m a good enough judge of character to see that. But frankly, after the inexcusable things you’ve done over the years, you deserve punishment.” Denzel kneeled. “Take your medicine.”

  “Forgot how humorless you were.” Lucian stood, wiping grass off himself. “Thing is… I have the best defense anyone could ask for.”

  Denzel narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

  Lucian held up his finger. “A man with plot armor.”

  ***

  Rowan’s bright blue eyes scanned the list of charges. He set the paper down, chewing his lip thoughtfully. He ran one hand back through his black hair as he leaned back in his chair, tipping it onto two legs.

  “So?” Lucian asked.

  “How much of this is actually true?” Rowan asked. “I mean… what part of this—"

  Lucian tapped the paper. “Can you help me with this?”

  “Look, you saved my life, and I… I know I said I’d return the favor when I could, but… I’m no legal mind.”

  Lucian grabbed his shoulder. “You’re the most reliable person that I can conceive of, and I need help.”

  “Why not just take your father’s offer?” Rowan said, and Lucian walked away scratching his scalp in distress. “Look, I’m flattered that you think so highly of me, but I want you to get out of this whole and healthy, Lucian. Some of the stuff here… I think… I think it’ll stick. And once you’re sticky, a lot of stuff is going to get stuck, even if it doesn’t meet the burden of proof.”

  Lucian looked back, letting some true emotion out. “I didn’t do any of that!” He walked over to the list of charges. “Ever since I’ve been in this world, things I never did have been shoved into my face by people that don’t know the damn half of it. Duke Cyril Villamar is a damn sociopathic freak. Just recently, he wanted to marry my sister off, Cate, not days after her abusive scumbag, demon-possessed bastard of a husband had died.” He grabbed Rowan. “She can’t even speak, Rowan, and he wanted her to remarry. You believe that? Can’t even speak. And that’s his daughter. What do you think he’d do to other people?”

  “Just relax,” Rowan said calmingly.

  Lucian stepped away. “Sorry, I’m just… just a little stressed. A teensy bit, that’s all.”

  “I get it,” Rowan said. He picked up the paper, and held it up. “You didn’t do any of this?”

  Lucian pointed at the text. “House Villamar is responsible for all of that.” He tapped his chest. “Not me.”

  “Meaning… you were forced to do it?” Rowan pressed.

  Lucian wondered if that would be the dealbreaker. Maybe this was immoral… but he needed some help, damn it. He needed someone on his side. And technically, it was the truth. He had been forced into this situation.

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Then I’ll help in any way I can,” Rowan promised.

  As they stood there, there were two knocks at the door. It opened up quickly, and Helen came bursting in.

  “Rowan, they—” she froze when she saw Lucian. “Oh. Umm…”

  “When you knock, you usually wait for an answer,” Rowan said, turning back.

  “Maybe that was the whole point,” Lucian joked.

  “You told me to meet you in your dormitory,” Helen defended, a little red.

  Rowan laughed. “I know, I know. What’s up?”

  “They’ve gone on strike in the Empire of Riverra,” Helen said, comporting herself. “A labor union is demanding mediation from the Concord. I think that they’re going to send the Student Ambassadors to help negotiate.”

  Lucian inhaled. It was time for the second story mission—right on schedule. He needed to be sure his position of auxiliary wasn’t stripped from him before it came. After all, the early game was the most important part for getting a build off the ground.