Public Trial

Stravburg had fallen. The armies of the Kingdom of Cinders flooded into the city. Marching in locked, orderly ranks, they swiftly seized the armory, the ducal manor, and other vital locations, taking full control of the entire city with practiced efficiency. True to its reputation as the largest city in the Northlands, Stravburg still sheltered nearly seventy thousand residents within its walls, even under the lockdown of wartime. "Tempus above..." "It's really fallen..." "I only pray these monsters won't butcher us..." "Th-they're the minions of an evil dragon! Haven't you read the Book of Cinders?" "Gods, who can save us now?" With doors bolted and windows shuttered, the townsfolk huddled anxiously inside their homes, unable even to envy those who had already fled, guessing endlessly at what the dragon's promises might mean. A suffocating gloom seemed to blanket the city, filled with the stifled murmurs of terrified voices. A few players looking for excitement also began their "explorations" across the city. They rifled through crates and overturned furniture in the streets, and some even dove headfirst into the sewers, only to be promptly arrested by the accompanying provosts. Soon enough, well-disciplined tieflings went door to door knocking, strictly following their orders. "D-don't kill us!" "Spare them, I surrender!" "By decree of the Kingdom, everyone is to proceed to the public square." Hardly any bloody clashes broke out during the process, though more than a few townsfolk fainted dead away in fright. Forced out of their homes, the people stepped into the streets with trembling hearts, praying desperately to survive the dragon's tyranny. "Wh-what do they want with us?" "Are these fiends going to eat us?" "N-no... Could they be gathering us as a feast for that red dragon?" Before their voices faded, a deafening thunderclap reverberated across the city. Terrified, the people turned their eyes toward the same spot. *Boom!* A colossal red draconic form plunged from the sky, crashing heavily atop the towering ramparts. Countless chunks of stone shattered and tumbled downward under its sheer weight. These magnificent walls, which would make even frost giants look up and sigh, seemed like toys folded from paper before the red dragon—ready to crumble at the slightest negligence. Cassius clambered carefully onto the highest gate tower, parted his jaws, and unleashed a long, reverberating roar that instantly drowned out all clamor in the city. Innumerable fearful eyes looked up from below, fixed upon this gargantuan entity. "Humans, the Northlands are no more." "In the name of the Lord of Cinders, I declare that the Northland nobility's thousand-year oppression over you ends this day." "Recognize reality: the Northlands' hundred-thousand-strong coalition has been utterly wiped out. The Kingdom shall bring you a brand-new order, and you shall enter a new era free from the decadent greed and rotten rule of the Northland nobles." "Lastly... the public trials will soon begin. Enjoy the show." Rousing a tempestuous gale, Cassius snapped his broad wings and shot straight into the sky, vanishing into a warp of twisted space. The tower beneath him finally gave way under the strain, collapsing with a deafening crash into a ruin cloaked in billowing smoke and dust. "A public trial?" "What is that?" "Heavens... how could such a dragon exist?" Cries of astonishment rose from the crowd. Not yet recovered from the shock, the townsfolk clutched their chests, gasping for breath, their minds overwhelmed with bewilderment. This dragon hardly seemed like a brutal conqueror. In an age where "passing armies combed the land like a fine-toothed comb," even the troops of House Bosque routinely plundered and extorted when passing through their own cities; the people had long grown accustomed to such behavior. Yet the tiefling army entering as "conquerors" committed no outrages, displaying strict and orderly discipline instead. Then what on earth were they planning to do? A sacrifice? The people of Stravburg had never heard the words "public trial." And the red dragon's proclamation left the citizens—who had lived under years of House Bosque propaganda painting the Kingdom of Cinders as a hellhole crawling with monsters—thoroughly baffled. Yet soon enough, they would understand. ... Herded by the tieflings, the populace gathered nervously in the city's grand squares, their anxious chatter rising in waves of noise. "What are they going to do to us?" "I just hope we survive this..." "Keep your voice down! That ogre is staring right at you!" Flanked by tiefling guards, Mezrolash stepped onto a high platform draped in cloth and spoke in a deep voice: "The public trial is about to commence. Please remain silent for now. It is not yet your turn to speak." His voice was not loud, yet through several black boxes it carried across the entire square. *Bang!* The surrounding tiefling rank-and-file fired their rifles into the air, unleashing deafening blasts. The crowd fell instantly silent, plunging the square of tens of thousands into dead stillness. "Very good." Mezrolash gave a slight nod and signaled his men. Understanding at once, the tiefling guards at both sides of the stage hauled down the massive canvas that cloaked the platform. Instantly, an uproar swept through the crowd once more. Eyes went wide, and cries of sheer disbelief burst from their lips. "How could this be!" "My eyes must be playing tricks on me..." "Th-that's—" "Tempus above—that's Lord Marquis Horace!" Upon the stage stood several tall wooden posts, onto one of which a blond, blue-eyed, middle-aged man was securely bound. His upper body was bare, his head hung low, and he was covered from head to toe in dried blood, looking utterly wretched. It was none other than Grand Duke Leo's eldest son—Marquis Horace Bosque! Small wonder the crowd was struck dumb with shock. A figure so exalted he had once been completely beyond their reach was now bound to a wooden post like a common criminal, bearing not a trace of the noble lion bloodline that ran through his veins. Scanning the people's reactions, Mezrolash offered a satisfied smile and withdrew a document he had prepared long in advance. "Very good. I trust many of you recognize him. This is the eldest son of Leo Bosque, former marquis of the Principality of Bosque—Horace Bosque." "He is a heinous war criminal, one of the chief instigators of this war, the primary administrator of the 'Grand Requisition,' and the architect of countless atrocities." "And today, his crimes shall be judged by all of you present here." The crowd erupted again, every face painted with sheer incredulity, many wondering if they had plunged into a dream. Judge? Decide Horace Bosque's guilt? To have commoners judge the actions of a former marquis had once been utterly unthinkable—enough to shatter their very worldview. "That's Marquis Horace..." "Who would dare judge him?" "Exactly..." "What if he's released later? Wouldn't whoever spoke up be doomed?" Murmurs flew in every direction, yet not a single soul dared step forward. The commoners had long grown accustomed to the Northland nobility towering over them, and even when offered the chance, none dared challenge them so easily. Among the ranks of prisoners below the platform, Viscount Luton looked up at the marquis and scanned the whispering crowd. He saw right through the sinister purpose behind this seemingly absurd spectacle staged by the Kingdom of Cinders. They wanted to utterly destroy the Northland nobility! Not merely in body, but in spirit and even culture—eradicating the bloodlines that had ruled the Northlands for a thousand years! Viscount Luton's face went deathly pale, his purplish lips trembling as all the strength drained from his limbs. "They..." "How dare they do this... Th-they're ripping up our very roots..."