Chapter 19: Justice at King's Landing - Part 2
POV: Corwyn Darke
The Iron Throne loomed at the far end of the chamber, a twisted mass of swords that seemed to drink the light from a hundred torches. King Viserys sat upon it, looking uncomfortable as always—the throne was designed to remind kings of their mortality, and it succeeded admirably.
I stood in the petitioner's circle, alone except for my evidence and my conviction. Lord Rykker waited outside with our guards. Maester Harlan sat in the observers' gallery, ready to provide clarification if called. The sellsword captain had been brought in chains, held by gold cloaks near the chamber's edge.
The Small Council arranged themselves on either side of the throne—Otto Hightower with his calculating gaze, Corlys Velaryon magnificent in sea-green silk, Lord Commander Westerling in white armor, Grand Maester Mellos fingering his chain. And across the chamber, surrounded by his own retainers, Lord Bryen Darklyn glared at me with murder in his eyes.
[ 👑 CROWN HEARING INITIATED ]
[ PRESIDING: KING VISERYS I TARGARYEN ]
[ DEFENDANT: LORD BRYEN DARKLYN ]
[ CHARGES: CONSPIRACY, ASSAULT, ATTEMPTED MURDER ]
"Lord Corwyn Darke of Duskhollow," Otto Hightower's voice cut through the murmurs, "you have requested this hearing to present grievances against Lord Bryen Darklyn. State your case."
I stepped forward, keeping my voice steady. "Your Grace, my lords, I come before you with evidence of crimes committed against my house and my people by Lord Darklyn."
I began with the poisoning—five months ago now, though it felt like another lifetime. The assassination attempt that followed. The ultimatum demanding vassalage. The battle that had claimed nine of my soldiers' lives.
Each point was documented. Each claim supported by evidence.
"The sellsword company known as the Red Hands was contracted to, and I quote from their own documentation, 'eliminate the lord of Duskhollow and destroy all mining operations.' Payment was provided through Lord Darklyn's treasury, traceable through these receipts."
I handed the documents to a clerk, who passed them to the council. Otto Hightower examined them with the precision of a man who dealt in paperwork daily.
"You claim these are genuine?" he asked.
"I claim they were found in the sellsword captain's possession after his capture, my lord. The captain himself waits to testify."
King Viserys leaned forward slightly, showing more interest than I'd expected. "Bring the captain forward."
The gold cloaks hauled their prisoner to the center of the chamber. Captain Varek looked diminished without his armor—just a scarred man in chains, facing consequences he'd never anticipated.
"You commanded the force that attacked Lord Darke's territory?" Viserys asked.
"I did, Your Grace."
"And who hired you?"
Varek's eyes flicked to Darklyn, then away. "Lord Bryen Darklyn, Your Grace. Through his steward. The contracts bear his seal."
"Lies!" Darklyn erupted from his position. "This is theater! The boy hired these men himself, staged the entire attack to manufacture grounds for—"
"Lord Darklyn." Otto's voice was ice. "You will have opportunity to respond. You will not interrupt."
Darklyn subsided, but his face was purple with rage.
POV: King Viserys I Targaryen
Viserys watched the proceedings with the weary attention of a man who had sat through countless such petitions. Most were petty disputes, border squabbles, inheritance complaints. This one was different.
The young lord from Duskhollow presented his case like a master craftsman displaying his work—each piece precisely placed, each argument building on the last. No emotional appeals, no dramatic gestures. Just facts, evidence, and the quiet confidence of someone who knew he was right.
"He's good," Viserys thought. "Better than most lords twice his age."
The contracts were damning. The financial records matched. The captain's testimony was detailed and consistent. Either Lord Darke had orchestrated an elaborate conspiracy involving forged documents, bribed prisoners, and fabricated battle casualties... or Lord Darklyn had attempted murder and been caught.
Occam's razor suggested the simpler explanation.
"Lord Darklyn," Viserys said when Lord Darke finished his presentation, "you may respond."
Darklyn stepped forward, his earlier rage controlled but still visible in his rigid posture. "Your Grace, I deny all charges. These documents are forgeries. The captain has been tortured into false confession. Lord Darke is a ambitious schemer who—"
"The documents bear your seal," Otto interrupted. "Are you claiming your seal was stolen?"
"Copied. Duplicated. It's not difficult for a determined forger."
"And the financial records from your own treasury? Also forged?"
Darklyn hesitated. "My steward may have acted without my knowledge."
"The same steward who signed the contracts? Who has since fled to Essos according to our inquiries?" Otto's voice was dry as autumn leaves. "How convenient."
Corlys Velaryon spoke for the first time, his deep voice cutting through the tension. "I had my people examine the contracts. The parchment is genuine Darklyn supply, sourced from a specific merchant in your territory. The ink matches samples from your official correspondence. The seal impressions are consistent with other documents bearing your mark." He smiled without warmth. "Either someone went to extraordinary lengths to frame you, Lord Darklyn, or you are lying to this council."
Viserys watched Darklyn's composure crack. The man had expected to bully a young lord, to use connections and intimidation to escape consequences. He hadn't expected meticulous documentation and systematic dismantling of his denials.
"Justice is sometimes simple after all."
POV: Corwyn Darke
Darklyn's defense collapsed like a house built on sand.
Every counter-argument met prepared evidence. Every denial faced documented contradiction. The Small Council's expressions shifted from neutral attention to grim certainty as the hearing progressed.
[ HEARING PROGRESS: 87% ]
[ COUNCIL ASSESSMENT: FAVORABLE ]
[ DARKLYN CREDIBILITY: COLLAPSED ]
[ PROJECTED OUTCOME: GUILTY ]
Finally, King Viserys raised his hand for silence.
"We have heard sufficient testimony." His voice carried the weight of the crown he wore. "Lord Bryen Darklyn, this council finds you guilty of conspiracy against a sworn vassal of the Crown. You hired mercenaries to attack fellow subjects, murder innocents, and destabilize the king's peace."
Darklyn went pale. "Your Grace—"
"The sentence is as follows." Viserys continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Your lands and titles are forfeit to the Crown. You will take the black and serve on the Wall for the remainder of your days. Your family may retain personal property and will not be punished for your crimes."
The chamber erupted in murmurs. Darklyn stood frozen, processing the destruction of everything he'd built across decades of scheming and accumulation.
"As for Lord Corwyn Darke." The King's attention shifted to me. "You have suffered losses in defense of the realm's peace. The former Darklyn holdings are hereby granted to House Darke as compensation, to be held in perpetuity with all rights and responsibilities attendant."
[ 🎊 VERDICT: VICTORY ]
[ TERRITORY ACQUIRED: DARKLYN HOLDINGS ]
[ POPULATION: +1,300 ]
[ STATUS CHANGE: MINOR LORD → REGIONAL POWER ]
[ CROWN FAVOR: +25 ]
I bowed deeply, keeping my expression appropriately humble despite the triumph thundering through my chest. "Your Grace honors me beyond my worth. I will endeavor to serve the realm as faithfully as you have served justice today."
Viserys nodded, the ghost of approval crossing his features. "See that you do, Lord Darke. See that you do."
POV: Otto Hightower
Otto watched the young lord depart the chamber, filing away observations for future consideration.
Lord Corwyn Darke had entered King's Landing as a minor Crownlands noble with a grievance. He left as a significant regional power, his holdings quadrupled, his reputation enhanced, his competence demonstrated before the realm's highest authorities.
"Dangerous," Otto thought. "Not in the obvious way—no reckless ambition or violent tendencies. Dangerous because he's smart, patient, and builds things rather than simply taking them."
The kind of man who could be useful. Or the kind who could become a problem.
"Your thoughts, Lord Hand?" Corlys Velaryon had lingered as others filed out.
"The boy presents well. His evidence was impeccable."
"More than presents. He won a battle against professional sellswords using farmers and miners. Then won a political battle against a connected lord using paper and testimony." Corlys stroked his silver beard. "I'm curious about his mining operations. And his harbor."
"Harbor?"
"Duskhollow Cove. Natural deep-water port, protected anchorage. If developed properly..." Corlys trailed off, but his meaning was clear. The Sea Snake saw opportunity.
Otto filed that away too. Where Corlys Velaryon saw opportunity, there was money to be made—and alliances to be considered.
"Keep me informed of any developments."
"Of course, Lord Hand."
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