The Court of Nobility of the Duchy of Haiti.
The building was constructed from cold, white marble, its dome soaring high, creating a solemn and oppressive atmosphere.
Judge Brian stood at the plaintiff's bench, his back ramrod straight.
He scanned his surroundings.
'Everything is under control.'
Brian sneered inwardly.
'Those twelve jurors are all pawns I carefully selected.'
'That's Viscount Barton on the far left. He was nearly ruined by one of Klein's merchant guilds last year and hates Leman to the bone. Next to him, Earl Delamond—a zealot who spends more time praying before meals than actually eating.'
'Eight mortal enemies, four who sway with the wind.'
'This lineup is perfect.'
His gaze finally landed on the defendant's bench.
Leman Klein, that old fox, still wore a look of unruffled calm.
And beside him, the young man named Velin… was just as calm?
A flicker of irritation inexplicably flared up in Brian's heart.
'Putting on an act!'
