Snow fell softly on the bloodied ground outside the Market Square of Ganglen, covering the carnage as if trying to erase what had occurred the day before. Yet nothing could hide the shame and fury in the eyes of the people.
Duke Arhenius Sureva—once a symbol of nobility and strength—was dragged through the streets.
Bound in chains, his armor stripped, his body battered, he walked while tied to a steed like a war trophy. The mob jeered and spat. Rotten vegetables, dirt, even stones flew from trembling hands.
But Arhenius walked silently. Head high. Jaw clenched. Not for pride—but for the boy watching him from afar.
High above the plaza, a glowing hologram flickered. A mana transmission orb hovered beside a glowing screen, projecting the trial live. Inside the Winter Palace, Luenor watched his father stumble forward.
"Father..."
He whispered the word like a prayer.
Back in Ganglen, a wooden dais stood in the center of the Market. Atop it, Duke Liles Siegfried stood beside a cloaked man—Nag Kiccha, the commander of the rebellion's forces.
Nag raised his hand, and the crowd fell into a breathless silence.
"People of Ruthenia! Behold the traitor who has betrayed the King, the realm, and his people!"
Gasps, shouts, and curses erupted.
"Arhenius Longus Sureva, you stand accused of the following crimes:
Treason against the Crown. Conducting forbidden magic. Human experimentation. Attempted regicide. Conspiracy with dark forces.
How do you plead?"
Arhenius looked up at the assembled nobles, commoners, and soldiers.
"I plead only to your fear."
The crowd murmured.
"I plead that you fear the truth more than you seek it. That you believe lies more easily than honor. That you kneel not to justice—but to politics."
A stone struck his face. Blood streaked down his temple. He didn't flinch.
Nag sneered. "Still arrogant. Even in defeat."
Arhenius's eye flicked toward the hovering orb. "Luenor… are you watching?"
Back in the Winter Palace, Luenor's heart clenched. Tears spilled freely down his face.
"I am," he whispered.
Arhenius's voice hardened. "Then remember this, my son. Do not bow. Do not plead. Do not forgive. Take back what they stole. Rebuild what they destroyed. Walk the path… the Path of Fire."
Nag snapped. "Enough of this madness. Hang him!"
Guards seized Arhenius. Ropes were tied. The banyan tree—the sacred tree of House Sureva—loomed behind the plaza. Its ancient roots had seen the rise and fall of generations.
Now it would see a Duke's end.
As they dragged Arhenius toward it, he turned once more to the orb. "Luenor!"
The boy cried out. "I swear! I will!"
Arhenius smiled, just barely.
Then the rope pulled taut.
And the world went silent.