The group finally reached the High Council’s Hall. The place was colossal, built like a courtroom with a dark elegance. Rows of guards flanked the walls, their armour gleaming under the cool, faint light. Stick’s heart sank, and his stomach twisted as he took in the sheer number of guards. This wasn’t a place they’d ever fight their way out of. The thought of escape, flimsy as it was, dissolved in his mind. It seemed certain now—he and Shadis were on the fast track to a lifetime in a dark, dripping cell below. What is the plan here? Look for Lord Alastair? But how? Do we have to wait until the twins come to save them? That could take years!

  Stick slowly settled into the inconvenient truth that they had no means of escape and no idea what to do. He looked at Shadis, hoping for some sign of a plan, but all he saw was a resolute determination etched across Shadis’s face. His friend walked with his head high, the shackles on his wrists not seeming to weigh him down at all. Shadis strode forward like a man with nothing left to lose—or with a faith so unshakeable it bordered on reckless. Maybe it was his trust in the Blitz family that allowed him to walk proudly, so confident. Too confident.

  At the end of the hall, five stands were arranged in a half-circle formation, looming over the hall on three steps. The far left and right were occupied by two lordly dressed figures, a man with a way too long cloak and a woman with brilliant red hair. Red hair? Why does she have to be a Carnifex member?

  On the second step, Stick recognised the Jester’s mask next to Herzog, the High Council Member. In the centre, the topmost stand lay ominously empty, though above it, a high balcony looked down on them. A vacant throne cast its long, empty shadow over the hall. Stick knew it in his heart: This is the highest authority in Carnifex.

  They were guided to their stand, positioned lower than the Council’s, with Becket, the Baron, and Nakamura taking their places on the opposite side.

  A bailiff—the guard who had led them here—took centre stage and spoke in a booming voice. “Presiding over today’s trial is High Council Member Sofia Solo, General of the Carnifex army!”

  Stick’s heart plummeted. The General of the Army?

  From a door behind the stands, she entered. The woman behind the empire’s vast forces, the iron force of the Carnifex army he had only witnessed a small part of, was here. General Solo’s golden hair gleamed beneath the hall’s light, and her armour was a masterpiece of metalwork, intricate and ruthless. As she took her place on the topmost stand, every guard in the room stood at attention. The clang of boots and the heavy, synchronised clanking of armour echoed through the hall. Every fibre in Stick’s body screamed danger. He swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment press down on him.

  “At ease!” The General’s voice rang out, followed by the rumbling sound of armour as the guards relaxed their stance.

  Silence fell like a weighted shroud. The hall grew still enough that Stick imagined he could hear his own heartbeat. Her gaze settled on him, pinning him in place.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Stick Arslan,” she pronounced with unsettling calm.

  Stick’s pulse quickened, his name in her mouth a death knell.

  Her eyes turned to Shadis. “Shadis Moore. Do you know why you’re here?”

  Shadis didn’t hesitate.

  “I suppose it has to do with the fire we set at the Blitz Estate to warm ourselves,” he said, a mocking edge to his voice.

  The bailiff stormed over, hands gripping Shadis’s shackles, yanking him forward so his chin slammed onto the wooden stand. Stick winced.

  “You will address the General as ‘Ma’am’ or by her rank!” the bailiff spat, his voice brimming with disdain. “Further disrespect will not be tolerated, Bot! Understood?”

  Shadis straightened slowly, his eyes sweeping up the row of council members, his expression unreadable. Stick squinted at him, wondering what he was thinking. This was the last place to provoke anyone, but Shadis stood like a man unfazed. What is he doing? He is not someone who takes titles lightly.

  “It is my understanding that titles are to be used by everyone or none at all,” Shadis responded smoothly, his gaze climbing up the ranks of the Council members, until it settled on the empty throne high above. “Forsaking the right to formalities is a decision that both parties make.”

  He looked back at Stick, his eyes flashing with a hidden purpose. Stick felt the weight of Shadis’s words. Is he baiting them on purpose?

  “Very well,” General Solo repeated, her gaze fixed on the two prisoners. “Let me ask you again: Sir Moore and Stick Arslan. Do you know—”

  “Pardon the intrusion, Ma’am,” Shadis interrupted, his tone unwavering. “It’s Sir Arslan.”

  Stick’s eyes widened. Sir Arslan?

  A ripple of gasps echoed through the chamber.

  “How dare you interrupt the General, you filthy Bot?” The bailiff looked ready to pounce again, his fingers twitching in anger, but General Solo raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

  The cloaked man on the far left glowered, his voice filled with fury. “What is that supposed to mean? How can a Level 1 Player be called a Sir?”

  Stick felt his heart pound in his chest. He’s right! I’m not a “Sir”!

  General Solo’s gaze sharpened, studying Shadis. His expression had changed. Gone was the mockery, replaced by a steady, serious look.

  “Explain yourself!” Sofia commanded.

  Without hesitation, Shadis lifted his head and said, “He’s a knight of House Blitz, Ma’am.”

  Baron Bonatelli shot to his feet, slamming his fist on his stand. “What kind of trick is this, you piece of trash?”

  Stick looked up, meeting Bonatelli’s outraged glare. Every noble’s eyes were now on him, questioning, scrutinising. He had no explanation to offer, only his own bewilderment. In the midst of the uproar, Herzog alone remained calm, his eyes sharp and assessing.

  “That’s not what his Status says,” Herzog remarked. “How could he be a knight of House Blitz?”

  “His rank is even similar if not equal to mine.”

  “What the hell?” Bonatelli yelled, his voice echoing through the hall.

  Another outrage simmered through the crowd, but General Solo’s raised hand stifled it, silencing them immediately.

  “How so?” General Solo asked, her tone sceptical yet controlled. “A Player cannot be affiliated with NPCs, only with Player Guilds.”

  “He has proven himself a great asset to Lord Jacoby’s cause.” Shadis gladly explained. “That makes him an honorary member of House Blitz.”

  The Jester interjected: “So you would consider him one of your own?”

  “Absolutely.” Sir Moore declared.

  Stick’s throat tightened. Shadis’s words struck him with a force he hadn’t expected. He could barely hold back the tears, the courage swelling inside him as the weight of Shadis’s words sank in. A title given to him, not through status or level, but by honour. Sir Arslan.

  General Solo’s commanding voice cut through the hall like tempered steel, pulling them back to order. “Alright then, Sir Shadis, Sir Arslan. Now that we’ve clarified the formalities, I will ask this one more time. Do not make me repeat myself going forward. Do you know why you are here?”

  “Yes, General Solo,” Shadis replied, his voice low but clear. “It’s because of the insurrection I’ve led.”

  https://www.patreon.com/IgLu_Books