The wind rushed past the chariot as it rolled over the cracked stone road leading out of Velmor.
Roha sat at the edge of the chariot's platform, one arm resting against the gilded rail, her gaze distant. But her thoughts were elsewhere—
The Office of Seven Seats.
"Are you aware of what you're implying?" Sylvia's voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. When the First Seat of the Seven Seats spoke, the ground listened—and trembled. Her words were frost-laced velvet.
The High Official swallowed. He stood straight, but sweat betrayed him.
"Ma'am, I'm only repeating what was reported. I meant no disrespect to Vice President Raezel."
The silence that followed wasn't empty.
It was judgment.
Then—
"Ears can deceive as easily as eyes," Roha said, her voice like a blade sliding from its sheath.
The official bowed stiffly, humiliated.
"Then I offer my apologies."
He turned and retreated like smoke into shadow.
Roha waited until he vanished.
"Let me go to Velmor myself."
Sylvia's gaze shifted. Her expression is unreadable. "Do you doubt him?"
Roha met her stare, unwavering. "Not even in my worst nightmares. But rumors are like rot—leave them alone, and they spread. Someone has to cut this off at the root."
She hesitated, then added, softer now, "You're the only one who belongs beside him, Sylvia. Everyone knows that. But he's in Velmor… a ghost of a kingdom. It makes sense he'd be drawn to its people—maybe even to someone lost in the wreckage of their world. And suddenly that bastard starts whispering, 'The Vice President is getting close to someone else.'"
She scoffed bitterly.
"They're calling him disloyal over a nameless girl. No proof. Just whispers and smoke."
"What a load of bullshit."
***
"Roha. Roha—"
A hand on her shoulder. Gia.
Roha blinked. The present returned.
Lia stood nearby, concern etched in her face. "Did you find anything? I told you—he's just on vacation."
Roha nodded, eyes still storm-dark.
"Yeah. And now we'll bring Sylvia the truth. She won't show it, but the thought of Raezel with someone else—it shakes her."
She paused. Her voice lowered.
"And the official who started this mess? I'm going to break his jaw."
Gia tensed. "You can't assault a high official—"
"Why not?" Roha snapped.
"Because he's a high official of the Seven Seats."
Roha leaned in, eyes blazing.
"And I'm the Fifth High-Seat."
Gia didn't blink. "Exactly. And that's why you can't."
***
High above the celestial winds—where mortal prayers are echoes and stardust bows to command—stood the sacred seat of Zeus. A place unmatched in beauty. Untouched by ruin. Unreachable by inferiority.
"I'm having trouble understanding, Almighty," Valeyrie said softly. "Perhaps a peasant like me simply cannot grasp the actions of a high-god like you."
Zeus's voice rumbled low.
"You want to know why I didn't make an example of Dionysus?"
A pause. A breath.
"Why should I?"
His gaze sharpened.
"Hades didn't spare him. He gave Dionysus a slow poison. He burned a nation that worshipped him—and Dionysus couldn't save a single believer. Not one."
He narrowed his eyes, voice lowering.
"When I grabbed his neck today, I noticed something. His right arm has already begun to rot."
"His faith-pathway is breaking. Once it fully shatters, his divinity will collapse."
A breath.
"And then? He'll decay—dissolve into the fabric of the universe… until nothing remains."
***
Velmor – The Royal Hall
Three traitors stood proudly at the center of the hall—Kaelric, Cassira, and Alarien. Clad in noble silks, yet soaked in treachery, they faced judgment like they were delivering it.
"You three…" Daelus spat through gritted teeth. "Living off Velmor's blood. Feeding on its people. And now—now you raise your hands against King Eldors?"
Across the chamber, King Eldors stood beside Nihaga, Krios, and Raezel—silent, immovable, like gods carved from storm clouds.
Kaelric gave a low, mocking laugh. "And what has Eldors done for Velmor, Daelus? Cling to failure? Worship weakness?"
Cassira stepped forward, smiling with venom. "Under Eldors, Velmor has known starvation. Inflation. Corruption. And now—after spitting in Lord Ares's face and siding with that gorgon bitch—he lets her spawn slither through our halls, poisoning the very veins of our nation."
The moment Medusa's name was dragged through the dirt, the temperature dropped.
Krios' hand twitched. The floor beneath him cracked.
Nihaga's pupils thinned to slits. Fangs bared behind calm breath.
But neither moved.
Because Raezel hadn't.
He stood perfectly still. A smile flickering at the corner of his lips.
A smile that promised something worse than death.
Alarien sneered. "The real traitor sits on that throne. Eldors is a parasite—clinging to a crown too heavy for his hands."
Kaelric lifted his chin. "We are not criminals. We are salvation."
Cassira's smirk widened. "The people will forget Eldors. But they will remember us."
Then—
Raezel stepped forward.
Just one step.
The sound echoed louder than any speech.
And then came his voice.
Soft.
Measured.
Unforgiving.
"Your words are polished. Your pride, exquisite. But beneath it all…"
A pause.
"…you reek of mediocrity."
Kaelric blinked. Cassira's smirk wavered. Alarien's jaw stiffened.
"You believe your betrayal was noble. That sedition was strategic. But all you've done is prove one thing—
Parasites can wear crowns.
And still die like common rats."
The silence was suffocating.
"You want vision?" he said, turning to Kaelric. "Let's talk about vision."
He raised one hand.
"Kaelric. The drunk strategist who sold grain during a famine—for profit. Then threw banquets while the people starved."
Kaelric's face twitched.
He turned to Cassira.
"Cassira. The Siren of Slander. Daughter of disgrace. Every title you wore, you seduced or extorted. And the one time you tried real politics—you bankrupted your province with a ball no one came to."
Cassira's nails dug into her sleeves.
He turned to Alarien.
"Alarien. The 'Lion of Law.' You couldn't argue your way out of a tavern brawl. I've read your petitions. Plagiarized—word for word—from cases twenty years older than you."
Raezel took another step.
"You stand here like gods."
He smiled coldly.
"But I've stood beside gods."
"I am Vice President of the Seven Seats. Advocate of the Grand Court. When gods want laws rewritten—they call me."
Cassira opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
"You thought you challenged a prince? No. You challenged a weapon the gods licensed."
He looked at the crowd.
"You tried to assassinate a king. You slandered my mother. You set Velmor aflame—and called it leadership."
His voice lowered to a whisper.
"You want judgment?"
A pause.
"Here it is."
He raised one finger.
"Cassira. Alarien. Kaelric.
You are found guilty of sedition, attempted regicide, conspiracy against the crown, manipulation of public welfare, and divine slander."
"You are hereby sentenced to—"
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
"No one screams louder than those sentenced to silence."
"Your tongues will be iron-branded.
Your names will be stripped from the royal ledger.
You will never speak in public again.
No titles. No inheritance. No legacy."
"You will live—forgotten."
A punishment so rare, the Grand Court had used it only twice in recorded history.
Gasps tore through the hall.
Nihaga exhaled sharply.
Krios grinned.
The air trembled.
Cassira trembled. Kaelric's lips quivered. Alarien looked ill.
"You have no authority—!" Cassira exploded. "We demand a trial!"
"A trial?" Raezel said, amused.
Alarien stepped forward. "This is not a Grand Court! You can't pass sentence!"
Kaelric sneered, "We have allies! Lords—High Seats—"
Raezel raised a single hand. Palm open.
Silence.
"I'm not just a member of the Seven Seats," he said softly.
"I'm the Vice President."
"The highest-earning advocate in Court history."
"When I enter a trial, gods rise.
When I speak, empires pause."
He stepped forward.
"So go ahead. Drag me into court."
"Because dragging me into court… is like dragging an alligator into water."
"You think you're fighting for your life—until you realize…"
He smiled.
"You're already dead."
Kaelric paled.
Cassira's knees buckled.
Alarien couldn't meet his eyes.
Raezel straightened.
"There will be no trial. No appeal. No letters sent."
"You've made your case with knives and bribes."
"I'm making mine with law."
"And I don't lose cases."
King Eldors bowed his head. Tears filled his eyes—not from fear, but from vindication.
Krios chuckled. "Gods above. That was beautiful."
Nihaga cracked his knuckles. "If they speak again, I'll rip their throats out myself."
The Royal Hall was silent.
Not from reverence.
From fear.
Because everyone now understood—
When Raezel stops pretending… even gods start praying.