“Proceed,” August said, his voice weak enough that those in the back of the Assembly chamber struggled to hear. Fortunately, all of the actual decision-makers in the Assembly could hear him, though the Prince’s weakness was obvious.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Proximus said without a hint of actual gratitude. He spared a moment to preen before the Assembly, standing up straight, puffing out his chest, and practically making a show of getting serious. “Prince August,” Proximus said with more formality than he’d ever shown before in August’s presence, “If you would be so kind, please illuminate this esteemed body as to the relationship that you and His Highness Prince Trajan shared—aside from familial ties, of course. And may I remind you that you did make a sworn statement already…”

August took a deep breath, casting his gaze around the room in a search for what strength he could find in the presence of his friends and family. Both Antonius and Stefania were there, staring at him, but neither had accusation in their eyes. All August saw in them was concern and fear, and he took a strange amount of comfort in that. Their expressions seemed to say that they didn’t believe he killed their uncle.

Roland and Brimstone were there, too, with steel and fire in their eyes. Sitting next to them was Minerva and Leon, both impassive, though that also brought some comfort to August; it meant that there was a chance they were still on his side. He had a few other supporters in the chamber, and he took strength in their presence, even if they were not nearly as numerous as Octavius’ own people.

Finally, August turned his attention back to the lawyer in front of him, staring at him with a **-eating grin, waiting for August to speak so he could start tearing into him. For two weeks, August had been nervous about just this very thing, but now that he was here, with his friends and family here, he straightened up and began to act like the Prince that he was—however, it was still clear as day that he had suffered and hadn’t much energy.

But even with more poise and a clearer mind, August wasn’t able to simply say what he wished. He had already given a sworn statement and sealed it with his Mana Glyph. It was a stupid thing to do, but he hadn’t been in the proper state of mind when he did so. The only saving grace he had was that the statement had been sparse on details, was now in the hands of Lineage Hall, and his Mana Glyph would dissolve in time.

“Uncle Trajan and I were never close,” the Prince truthfully began, “however that all changed when I rode to his aid following the Talfar’s recent invasion. I gathered all the brave men and women who would follow me in defense of this great Kingdom, and I rode to Ariminium, and there, I reconnected with my uncle.”

Proximus managed to stifle a frown, but his grin didn’t reappear. August’s sworn statement had been quite simple and to the point, so his verbosity engendered a bit of anxiety in the lawyer, though it wasn’t enough to make Proximus truly nervous. August wasn’t technically going against his statement, so that wasn’t a legal weapon that could be used against him without stretching the truth. Still, Proximus knew that letting August portray himself as a patriot defending the Kingdom from foreign barbarians was a terrible move on his part, and so he quickly interrupted.

“Ah, yes, and I believe that would technically be treason, would it not?” Proximus asked, eyeing August like a shark eyeing a seal. “You persuaded two Legates and their Legions to desert their posts, against both the regulations of the Kingdom and the personal orders of their commander, the honorable Consul of the Central Territories.”

August scowled and glanced at Martianus, his own defense lawyer out of the corner of his eye. Martianus didn’t need such prodding, though, and he swiftly shouted, “Objection, Your Honor!”

The High Arbiter glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and nodded her assent for him to continue.

“This matter was settled during the court-martials of the Legates in question—both were found innocent of treason. For Sir Proximus to insinuate that treason occurred when it has already been officially established to have not occurred is misleading!” Martianus spoke quickly and with passion, and the High Arbiter nodded in agreement, though August noted with some dismay that none of the other four Arbiters had so charitable of reactions. But it was the High Arbiter that was in charge, and August would take the wins he could get.

“Please move on with your questioning, Sir Proximus,” the High Arbiter ordered.

“… Yes, Your Honor,” Proximus replied with a hint of bitterness to his tone, and an edge to his gaze that only sharpened when Martianus flashed him a victorious smile. “Your Highness, please continue. You reconnected with Prince Trajan at Ariminium…?”

“Yes, he was grateful that I had responded so quickly and reached him with much-needed reinforcements,” August said, leaning into his narrative as much as he could. Even after long days in custody, suffering beatings, interrogations, and starvation, he had still managed to keep enough wits about himself to keep his sworn statement vague enough that he could get away with such details.

August continued, “While staying at the Bull’s Horns, my Uncle and I spoke at great length, to the point that I learned many of the names of his personal knights. I told him of my concerns regarding the situation in the capital, and he told me that he would lend me his considerable aid in stabilizing this city and this Kingdom’s political situation until my Royal Father left seclusion.”

“Yes, your ‘concerns’,” Proximus said, the smile on his handsome face returning as August got to the unavoidable point. “What concerns did you have?”

“That I was too young, that my brother, Octavius, had been gone from the capital for too long, that he’d abandoned his duties as Prince-Regent, and that I suspected he was amassing support to usurp my Royal Father from the nobility.”

“What were your expectations when you told this to Prince Trajan?” Proximus inquired.

August’s face twisted, but he’d been unable to keep this information out of his sworn statement. Once sealed with his Mana Glyph, he would be hard-pressed to deny the words he’d written, no matter how much he wanted to. If he forced the statement to be taken out of the hands of Lineage Hall, it could even be used to harm him on a more tangible level, since his Mana Glyph was a connection with his soul realm that could be exploited by someone with nefarious motives. Fortunately, if given enough time, he could close that connection from his end, but such a time-consuming option wasn’t available to him right now.

“I… I’d hoped that he would support me over my brother Octavius to be my Royal Father’s heir,” August choked as if the words themselves were fighting not to pass his lips.

Gasps were heard throughout the entire Assembly chamber, and some of them were even legitimate. While it was true that Octavius hadn’t been declared the Crown Prince and heir to the King, he was still the heir apparent since he had been the only child of King Julius that both had his blood awakened, and hadn’t relinquished his claim. For August to publicly admit to seeking support against Octavius did not cast him in a good light, to put it mildly, even if everyone already knew he was doing that.

“So even back then, while this Kingdom was suffering from an invasion from the barbarians to our east, you were already planning on pulling this Kingdom into civil war,” Proximus stated like it wasn’t a question.

August wanted to angrily retort, but given how much of the Assembly was already against him by virtue of being in Octavius’ faction, he bit his tongue. He didn’t want to alienate the rest of the Assembly—assuming there were even any neutral parties left out in the chamber—by shouting and arguing and abandoning his Royal dignity.

“I’m finished, Your Honor,” Proximus stated as he turned back to the High Arbiter.

“Thank you, Sir Proximus. Sir Martianus, you’re up,” the High Arbiter said, not wasting a single moment of time.

Proximus returned Martianus’ smile of victory as he walked back to the edge of the platform, while Martianus had a dark look as he thought about what exactly he could do to reframe what August had just said.

“Your Highness, thank you in advance for answering my questions,” Martianus respectfully said as he stepped forward, enunciating the words to try and squeeze out just a couple more seconds of thought while the Assembly’s attention turned to him.

August simply nodded in response.

“Let’s start simple; Your Highness, did you murder Prince Trajan?”

“No.”

“Did you order Prince Trajan killed?”

“No.”

“Were you involved in Prince Trajan’s murder in any way?”

“No.”

“Your Highness, for what reason did you seek the throne?” Martianus asked. “It surely wasn’t out of a desire for power, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” August replied. “Back when my Royal Father went into his seclusion training, it was a complete surprise to me when I was named Prince-Regent. Back then, I never fathomed the possibility of becoming King, and I didn’t even want the position.”

“For what reason, then, did you take the actions you took?”

August sighed, hating the fact that he now had to bare his greatest weakness before the entire Kingdom. Yet, he had to, he’d get nothing but a swift trip to the headsman’s block if he refused to answer such a question.

“For my mother and sister,” August quietly said. “It’s no secret within the Royal harem that Her Majesty wants my mother dead and my sister exiled—preferably, I think, to somewhere uncomfortable and out-of-the-way. I couldn’t let that happen, and from my perspective, becoming King was the only way to ensure their safety.”

“Was that the only reason?” Martianus asked.

“No, I-“ August began, but the words died in his throat. Once again, he cast his gaze around the entirety of the Assembly chamber, looking at as many of the people present as he could. So many were from the landed class, even those in the sections given to the Legion and the government officials. If he finished his thought, then he would undoubtedly lose any hope of support from the ranks of the landed nobility.

And yet, the more he thought about it, the less August cared. He had little support from the landed class, anyway, and if he made his intentions known here and now, before the Ancestors and all the great men and women of the Kingdom, then it might endear him to the common-born in the chamber who might be wary of siding with Octavius.

But it would still be a great risk, for August could lose his support in the Eastern Territories if he failed.

‘Or… how much of a risk is it, truly…?’ August silently wondered. ‘Not like my situation could get any **in’ worse right now. If this trial goes poorly, then I’ll… I’ll probably die tomorrow…’

“… Your Highness…?” Martianus hesitantly prodded. August had fallen silent and sat thinking for several long seconds, and while Martianus would’ve gladly given the Prince more time to think, he still had to keep the trial moving or else the High Arbiter might take a more active role. Already, there were narrowed eyes in the Assembly seats who were staring disapprovingly at August’s long pause.

‘… Fuck it,’ August thought to himself as he steeled himself for the single biggest risk he had ever taken.

“When I began trying to rally support for my claim, I did so for my sister and my mother,” August said in a strangely calm voice, a tone that carried to the furthest edges of the chamber so easily that many were taken aback at how rapidly August’s demeanor had changed. It was as if all the weakness he had showcased earlier had vanished, leaving nothing but the resigned strength of a man with little left to lose.

“This did not remain my only motivation,” August continued. “After speaking with my Uncle and learning the goals of my glorious Ancestors, I decided to take up their cause for my own. I pressed onward to make myself King because I can—and will—continue their work. I would bring true justice to this Kingdom, ending the system of hereditary nobility and ensuring that only the most worthy of people take their place. I would expand the Exarchates, give all rights to the common people that they have been denied, and never again allow the accident of one’s birth to hold them back.

“That is what I now work for. That is why I must become King.”

As August finished giving his bold answer, the Assembly chamber was as silent as the grave. Martianus, Proximus, and even the High Arbiter were shocked to speechlessness. The trial had barely begun, and August had just declared to the Assembly, a body made up of at least sixty percent—if not more—landed nobles or their family members, that he was going to take away their most prized and valuable right, that of passing their political power on to their own family members. The sheer madness of such an act shocked the entire chamber.

Slowly, people began to regain control of their senses, and many Assembly members began to whisper amongst themselves. However, a few seconds later, the High Arbiter immediately put an end to that and silenced them all when she asked, “Sir Martianus, have you any more questions?”

Martianus stared at August in disbelief. His own family controlled the March of Ironford, one of the most powerful noble Houses in the entire Eastern Territories. However, August’s declaration of intent didn’t shake him too much; rather, his disbelief came from how much harder his own job now was. He had no idea how he was going to help August now, and after almost ten seconds of thought—which the High Arbiter allowed him—any additional questions that he may have wanted to ask eluded him.

“… No, Your Honor,” he was forced to admit. “I have no more questions for Prince August.”

“Very well,” the High Arbiter said, her composure already back in place. “Sir Proximus, you may now call your first witness or present your first piece of evidence.”