The courtroom was packed, and every eye in it wanted Duke Theron dead.
Chains clanked with a heavy, rhythmic finality as the Royal Guards escorted him to the center of the grand hall. The room was an arena carved from marble and gold, with tiered seating rising on all sides, filled with the glittering, hostile nobility of the kingdom. A thousand whispers followed him like a cloud of wasps, a chorus of condemnation before a single word of the trial had been spoken. He stood before the elevated throne, a lone, defiant figure in a sea of enemies.
He scanned the faces, his gaze sweeping over the hostile crowd. He found Lady Seraphina in the noble seating, her hands clenched so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white, her expression a mask of pure terror. In the back, standing like a stone statue, was Sir Gareth, his hand never straying far from his sword, his eyes burning with a helpless, caged fury. Near the throne itself stood Elias Brightblade, the Hero, his handsome face an unreadable sculpture of neutrality.
At the head of it all sat King Aldric Valendor. He was an older man, his face etched with the weariness of rule, but his eyes were sharp and missed nothing. He raised a hand, and a heavy silence fell over the hall.
"Duke Theron," the King's voice was not cruel, but it held the immense weight of the crown. "You stand accused of treason, conspiracy to commit regicide, and possession of lethal poison with intent to harm the crown. How do you plead?"
Duke lifted his head, his voice ringing out clear and strong, reaching every corner of the massive room. "Not guilty, Your Majesty."
A wave of gasps and angry murmurs rippled through the court. A hawk-faced man in black robes, Lord High Prosecutor Ravencroft, stepped forward with a predatory smile.
"Not guilty?" Ravencroft's voice dripped with theatrical scorn. "The evidence says otherwise. Guards, present the exhibit."
Two guards brought the three dark wine bottles forward on a velvet cushion, placing them on a table for all to see.
"These bottles were found in YOUR study, Duke Theron," the prosecutor boomed, pointing an accusatory finger. "Poison so potent, a single drop could kill a man in seconds. And you dare to claim innocence?"
Duke met the prosecutor's glare without flinching. He had rehearsed this a dozen times in the darkness of his cell. He was ready.
***
"Your Majesty, if I may?" Duke spoke before Ravencroft could continue, his voice calm and measured. The King, intrigued by his lack of fear, gave a slight nod.
"Lord Ravencroft is correct," Duke announced, his voice carrying across the silent hall. "Those bottles were indeed in my study. But he has omitted a crucial detail: I am the one who reported them."
Ravencroft scoffed loudly. "A desperate lie! You only 'reported' them after you were caught!"
"Was I?" Duke countered, turning his gaze to the assembled nobles, making them part of the conversation. "The Royal Inspectors arrived at my manor at precisely 9:15 AM. I, however, had already arranged the bottles and my own investigation notes in plain view in my main hall by 8:45 AM. If I were a guilty man, why would I so brazenly display the evidence of my own crime?"
The murmurs in the court shifted from condemnation to confusion. The logic was simple, yet undeniable.
"I discovered those bottles three days ago," Duke continued, pressing his advantage while he had it. "They were hidden in a secret compartment I never knew existed. It was clear to me that someone had planted them there to frame me."
"A convenient and fanciful story!" Ravencroft shot back, trying to regain control. "Where is your proof?"
"In my investigation notes," Duke said, nodding toward the evidence table. "I documented the bottle design, the specific type of poison—a rare Nightshade extract from the Southern Marshes—and the likely suppliers. I was gathering evidence to present to Your Majesty personally when I was so rudely interrupted."
King Aldric leaned forward on his throne, his interest clearly piqued. "These notes… were they verified?"
A court scribe stepped forward, bowing low. "Your Majesty, the defendant's notes were indeed found to be remarkably accurate. The poison matches his description exactly, including several rare alchemical details only a trained master would typically know."
"I am not an alchemist, Your Majesty," Duke said. "But I am thorough. Which is why I can tell you exactly who sold this poison."
The courtroom fell utterly silent.
"A black-market merchant named Garris the Black," Duke declared. "He operates in the southern port districts and specializes in rare toxins. And according to my research, in the past month, he has been seen entering the private estate of…" Duke paused, letting the tension build until it was a palpable thing, "...a member of this very court."
Chaos erupted. Nobles shot to their feet, shouting, accusing, demanding to know who. Duke had turned their judgment away from himself and onto each other.
***
"SILENCE!" Ravencroft's voice cracked like a whip, his hand slamming down on his podium. The court quieted, but the atmosphere was electric with suspicion. The prosecutor fixed Duke with a cold, triumphant smile. He thought he had him.
"An impressive performance, Duke Theron. Truly. But in your haste to weave this tale, you have made a critical error." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that carried nonetheless. "You claim this merchant, Garris the Black, sold the poison to a noble. Name them. Name them now."
It was the trap. Duke's game knowledge was extensive, but it wasn't perfect. The lore mentioned Garris sold to several disgruntled nobles. Accusing the wrong one would shatter his credibility and expose him as a liar. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, and Ravencroft pounced.
"You can't, can you?" the prosecutor sneered. "Because you are fabricating this entire conspiracy. You are a desperate man inventing phantom enemies to save your own wretched neck!"
Duke's mind raced. He couldn't name a name. But he could force the issue. "I have a better idea," he projected, his voice steady once more. "Bring Garris the Black here. Let him testify under oath."
"Impossible!" Ravencroft snapped. "The man is a known criminal. His word is worthless."
"Then let the King's truth-seers compel him," Duke retorted. "Magic, as we all know, does not lie."
A wave of murmurs swept the court. Truth-seeking magic was rare, expensive, but absolute. It was an unassailable path to the truth, and to refuse it would be to admit one had something to hide.
King Aldric stroked his beard, considering the proposal. "An interesting proposition…"
"Your Majesty, this is nothing but a delay tactic!" Ravencroft pleaded, seeing his advantage slip away. "The Duke is stalling because he has no real defense!"
Suddenly, a new voice cut through the tension. "Your Majesty, if I may?"
All heads turned. Elias Brightblade had stepped forward.
"Speak, Sir Elias," the King commanded.
"I support Duke Theron's request," the Hero said, his voice clear and strong. "If the Duke is lying, the truth-seers will expose his deception instantly. If he is telling the truth… then we have a traitor in our midst. Either way, justice is served."
Duke stared, stunned. Elias, his fated executioner, had just saved him. Ravencroft looked apoplectic, but he could not argue against the unimpeachable logic of the nation's Hero.
King Aldric's gavel struck the wood with a sharp crack. "Very well. The trial is adjourned until the morrow. Garris the Black will be found and brought before this court. Duke Theron, you have bought yourself one more day."
***
The guards hauled Duke from the courtroom, his chains clanking on the marble floor. As they moved down a stone corridor, Seraphina stepped out from a shadowed alcove, blocking their path.
"Wait," she commanded, her voice trembling but firm. "I need to speak with the prisoner."
"Lady Ashford, this is highly irregular—" one of the guards began.
"I am a character witness for the defense, approved by the King himself," she lied flawlessly. "Now give us a moment."
The guards reluctantly stepped back, though their hands remained on their swords. Seraphina rushed to Duke's side, her voice a frantic whisper. "Duke, what are you doing? Garris the Black is a venomous snake! He's unpredictable. If he testifies, he could name *you* as his client just to save himself!"
"He won't," Duke said quietly.
"How can you possibly know that?" she pleaded.
"Because I'm betting he'll name the real buyer to get a lighter sentence," Duke replied, then made a catastrophic mistake. "And if I'm wrong… I'll load the save and try again."
Seraphina froze, her eyes widening in horror and confusion. "What… what did you just say?"
He had said it out loud. The words from his world, meaningless in this one. "Nothing," he tried to cover. "A figure of speech."
She grabbed his chained arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "No. You said something like it yesterday. 'Load.' 'Save.' Like… like a game." Her eyes filled with tears, her face pale with a pain he didn't understand. "Duke, what is happening to you? And why do I feel like I've watched you die multiple times?"
The memory bleeds were getting stronger, more coherent. He looked into her terrified eyes and felt a pang of guilt so sharp it stole his breath.
"Seraphina… do you trust me?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"I don't know," she sobbed quietly. "I want to. But you're scaring me."
"Then trust this," he said, his voice raw with an earnestness that surprised even him. "I am trying to save everyone. Including you. Even if you don't remember it."
Before she could respond, the guards decided they had been patient long enough and pulled him away. He left her standing in the corridor, confused and frightened, one hand pressed to her temple where a phantom headache throbbed.
***
Back in the cell, the brief taste of victory soured in his mouth. He had won the battle, but the war was far from over. His entire fate now rested on the testimony of a criminal he had never met. He pulled up the System interface, needing to quantify his progress.
**[QUEST: SURVIVE THE TRIAL]**
**Phase 3: Secure Garris the Black's testimony**
**Status: PENDING**
**Time Until Next Trial: 18 Hours, 23 Minutes**
**WARNING: Reality Integrity: 81% (decreased from 87%)**
**Memory Cascade Effect: ACCELERATING**
**Affected Individuals: 3 (Seraphina Ashford, Elias Brightblade, Sir Gareth - partial)**
"Three people remembering now," he muttered, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach. "And reality integrity is dropping. What happens if it hits zero?"
The System remained silent, offering no answers. The loops were saving his life, but they were also wounding the world in ways he couldn't predict. The thought that his survival might be unraveling reality itself was a new and terrifying weight.
He was pacing the small cell, his mind a whirlwind of strategies and contingencies for the next day's trial, when he heard a sharp, urgent knock at his cell door. It wasn't the heavy tread of the usual guards.
Sir Gareth's voice came through the bars, low and hurried.
"My Lord… I overheard the guards talking. I need to tell you something. About Garris the Black. I know where they're holding him."
Duke's head snapped up, his frantic thoughts coming to a dead stop. A single, desperate spark of hope ignited in the darkness. An opportunity.
"Talk," he commanded, his voice a raw whisper. "Fast."