VoC: B1 — 2. Judgment of the Crown
Added 2025-05-28 21:14:14 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Damon (Our New 24-Year-Old MC!)
---------------------
His attention locked onto Uncle Stephen—tall, sharp-featured, and composed—whose calm voice carried farther than the nobles’ jeers, though his smile never reached his eyes as he spoke to the king.
“These allegations are based on a false premise, My Lord, due to the [System Trickery] Feat that this court has chosen to focus on,” Stephen continued, gaze steady, weighing every noble who dared meet them. “The dark elf before you serves not The Spider, but Titania.”
Gasps and mutters rippled through the court as Aria cheered inside, yet Damon winced again, cursing under his breath from the heat searing his wrist—the mark.
What the hell is this pain?
The status menu flashed in front of his face with his curse at his internal question:
[The Spider’s Curse - All dark elves who do not worship The Spider suffer Soul Pain when hearing Her name. Damage intensifies if Her true name is spoken.]
Damn, that sucks… Wait, doesn’t that prove I’m not a follower?
“Damon, let Uncle handle it! Shhh!”
He grimaced and looked up as the king’s face—their grandfather’s face—could have been cut from marble, devoid of all emotion.
The nobles recoiled—sneers, whispered slurs, shifting back as if his very presence were a contagion.
One particularly anxious noble—weak chin, thinning hair, and what looked to be a nervous tick making his neck shift from time to time—was the only one to raise his voice.
“Preposterous, Marquess! Every dark elf serves Her! [System Trickery] is nothing but a ruse—to smuggle this creature into our court. It strikes at the very foundation of our faith in the System itself! My King, this is treason. Blasphemy by Princess Catelyn! The law allows no alternative!”
“What?!” Aria balked. “What kind of logic is that? What a loser-ass—”
Aria… I can’t hear.
“Mmgm! Humph.”
Their uncle showed a small smirk up at the indignant man. “Please, Marquess Aldric, drink a little wine to calm your nerves. We wouldn’t want your high blood pressure making you say something…regrettable.”
“Get ‘em, Uncle!”
The king’s gaze hadn’t left their defender as he spoke up, quieting the whole room.
“Marquess Delmore, this is a serious claim that contradicts everything we know about dark elves. Your own standing is in question for how long you’ve been around my daughter without sensing her deception…which is very questionable, considering your level, training, and renown.”
“Indeed, I am the subject of suspicion, but the nobility biting at my heels knows this court has little overall sway when it comes to me and my sovereign territory,” Stephen calmly stated without blinking an eye. “What matters here is not emotion or my own standing but the law regarding the prince. And to expose this error by the court, I’ve brought a cleric of Titania to verify my assertion.”
Their noble uncle cast his gaze around the sour-faced assembly, probably at the prince title still applying to him. “I hope you all will not let prejudices cloud the sanctity of law within this court and that of the word of High Cleric Sorrel Nightbloom.”
At his gesture, a serene figure glided out from behind a curtain, leading to the waiting room. Damon immediately recognized the name—the highest authority within Titania’s following in this kingdom. A dryad who was bound to a tree blessed by Titania herself, which had been here long before the lawful deity took over worship in this kingdom.
“So cool!” Aria squealed. “You know they hate her, right? Apparently, the kingdom used to worship Titania a few centuries back before the lawful god gained popularity. She’s from that time!”
I remember from our studies… It’s spotty, but it’s coming back to me, Damon noted, trying to keep up. Aria… What about Sophia? Where is she?
“It’s all good, Damon! Just…try to worry about yourself right now. Soph is okay…”
Damon didn’t like that hesitant tone regarding his absent girlfriend; it was classic Aria deflection. He had vague memories of some sort of accident, but his brain was clouded on the details. However, he didn’t have many options at the moment. That topic would be poked at as soon as possible, though.
High Cleric Sorrel Nightbloom moved with supernatural grace, her skin a deep bark-brown. Small flowers bloomed and withered in her moss-green hair, and her flowing green-and-silver robes rustled like leaves in a summer breeze. The four-leafed symbol of Titania gleamed on her chest.
As she approached, the court fell silent, many nobles instinctively leaning away from the dryad.
“Your presence honors us, High Cleric,” his grandfather stated, his formal acknowledgment doing little to mask his discomfort as his gaze darted to the marquess.
Sorrel’s eyes, the color of amber with flecks of emerald, flashed momentarily as she approached Damon. She smelled of fresh moss and wild berries as she placed a bark-textured hand upon his forehead—immediately, he felt relief and understanding swim through his veins.
“A follower of The Spider would recoil at my touch,” she said, her voice melodic yet intense, like branches bending in the wind. “But this child does not.”
Damon braced for the burn.
It never came.
A soft emerald light emanated from her palm, spreading over Damon’s violet skin like a gentle tide. The light pulsed once, twice, then small flowers began to sprout and dance across the connection between them before dissolving into motes of light.
“It is true,” the dryad announced, her voice resonating with natural authority as she moved her gaze to the king. “This dark elf bears the blessing of Titania. His soul resonates with her chaotic-good nature. To claim otherwise would be to deny the very growth of trees.”
However, simultaneously, the dryad’s voice entered his mind. “I formally welcome you to this messy world, Damon. It is intriguing She chose a dhampir dark elf to be Her champion for the Sage Class… And it also will be the spark of much mourning across the world.”
Thanks, I think? Damon internally chuckled, unsure if she could hear him while rubbing his wrist. I look forward to unpacking what that exactly means. How come the curse didn’t activate?
“Indeed. And the curse only functions if the one speaking it fears The Spider. A small trick She utilizes as the fuel for the power behind the curse. Unfortunately, Her true name will trigger regardless due to the power it brings in itself, opening the way for her to communicate with those present.”
I guess that’s why she has a nickname. Good to know…
“That said, on the other hand, you, Aria, a lich seedling, serve no deity, yet bear the approval of Titania… She’s temporarily hiding you from their detection artifacts. Intervening directly inside the Holy Emperor’s inner circle is quite…like Her. But hiding a naturally born lich? Curious.”
Damon could feel his sister stiffen. He glanced down at the necklace around his throat. Aria! What the hell did you do? A lich is supposed to be evil, right?
“H-Hey! It has some amazing starting stats! You had to approve everything in the end, Mr. Reincarnate! So don’t bite my head off, asshole. We can talk about it when you’re not about to be executed!”
Ugh… What am I going to do with you?
More murmurs spread through the court, mixed with confusion and disbelief.
“You may verify my reading with your own clerics, Your Majesty,” Sorrel added, stepping back as a few scattered petals fell from her hair to the marble floor. “Although Titania’s mark is tricky, and She often enjoys playing with your Holy Emperor. She might make it look like his own.”
His grandfather’s face remained stoic, controlled. “Even if what you say is true, High Cleric, Marquess, this changes nothing about the deception of his birth and the ramifications this will have on the public. Transparency is within the law. All will know my daughter’s sin, follower of Titania or not, he is a dark elf. He and his mother concealed his true nature from the public…and even her own family, for years, hiding behind a transformation bracelet.”
“Which brings us to the matter of sentencing,” Stephen replied smoothly. “As our kingdom follows the Holy Emperor, you must acknowledge that our laws permit the worship of any non-evil deity, including chaotic ones.
“In fact,” the marquess continued, “his aunt wrongfully accused Damon of being a vampire, which is against our laws. Yet, clearly, as all can see with his revealed status window under the Seat of Judgment, he is not. You may argue the unique addition [System Trickery] adds questions, and could break our very trust in the system itself, but there is no law against such a Feat, or any record of it in general. Unless you doubt the Seat of Judgment and the Holy Emperor’s blessing…”
That got a few more scowls that had Aria internally snickering.
“No? Well, then there should be no issues with that. And there is no law condemning or even mentioning dhampirs. Therefore, the accusation is moot. He is not Undead, since he can gain sustenance through blood or typical food. We are here for law, not personal moral quibbles.”
His supposed crime wasn’t worshipping an evil goddess after all—it was racism, pure and simple. Well, that and perhaps mixed with the deception of his nature, his connection to the chaotic faction in this lawful kingdom, and possibly even the fact that he was a reincarnate.
Damon recentered on his grandfather as the man relaxed a little, leaning against the side of his throne and stroking his partially graying beard.
“You are right, as usual, Marquess. The only laws broken were concealing in nature, if to the most extreme degree, which will have dire ramifications for public trust in the royal family.”
He paused, studying Damon for several tense seconds. It could have been the blinding light, but Damon thought he saw something there for only a second: Sorrow? An apology?
I need to take my life back into my own hands… he thought. I’m not the ten-year-old she needs to protect anymore.
Eyes hardening, he lifted his chin and repeated what he’d heard once from a legal hearing his mother had him sit in on when he was eight. “I call upon the Clemency Act.”
All attention immediately pinned him to the podium, scoffs and laughter coming from the high nobility, judging gazes leering down at him from high overhead.
“He’s a dark elf.”
“He has no right to the citizenship of our legal system!”
Damon’s fingers curled, feeling Aria’s anxiety rising, yet Stephen’s frown turned into a half-smile. And his voice grew louder to quiet the snickering nobles.
“My Lord… Damon was born a prince, despite any current legal proceedings, that hasn’t been stripped of him…yet. It is for that very reason he is before the High Court and not a lower chamber, is it not?”
Chills swept through the hall as the laughter cut, like a bucket holding ice-cold water that fell over every head present. His grandfather, however, showed an intrigued smile.
“A bold invocation of law, Damon… High Bishop, what is your opinion?”
Damon felt a quiver run down his spine. It was subtle, but something in that last exchange had drastically changed the direction of things—his grandfather had called him by name, not race.
“It…is sound logic and law, Your Majesty,” confirmed a stern-faced elder of the Holy Emperor, standing near the throne. “He is of Princess Catelyn’s blood, and neither your daughter nor he has been, as of yet, stripped of their titles…or citizenship.”
“Perposterous!” shouted a woman.
“Unacceptable!” Marquess Aldric shouted, jumping to his feet to lean over the banister above. “A dark elf—the Spider’s people—our citizen?! The legal protections—the implications!”
Damon’s teeth snapped together as the brand on his wrist ignited—Aldric’s fear fueling his torment.
If they learn the name hurts me… I’m screwed.
“Hang in there!”
Don’t worry about me.
Even the High Bishop showed unease. “Yes, but, My King, as Marquess Aldric points out, the Act itself graces the defendant with a restoration of citizen rights…
“This would cement him—a dark elf—as a citizen, with full benefits therein. The law states the individual must be fifteen when joining the Northern War against the armies of Hell, and there is the issue of a statute that permits the public execution of dark—”
His grandfather held up a hand, silencing them all.
“The law is the law,” he stated with a grim tone, his stone-like gaze sweeping over the nobility. “Before the throne of the Holy Emperor, this chamber is dedicated to it… Repeat what you said, Prince Damon.”
“You got this!” Aria whispered, almost breathless, like she was biting her nails—a habit of hers. “Uh-oh, I don’t like the look that Aldric person is giving you. Yeah, he’s going to send assassins. He’s totally the assassin type.”
We cross that bridge when we get there.
Straightening and looking up at the king, Damon repeated his claim, adding, “…Your Majesty, I am willing to enter into a Divine Oath, under the Holy Emperor’s throne.”
Several mouths fell slack, glances sent to one another as he got an approving nod from Stephen. It was the look that said, ‘You’ve made this a lot easier.’ His little sister, on the other hand, was practically beating him over the head.
“You what?! No. No way! That is way too far, Damon. We don’t even know all the rules and logic of this world yet!”
I don’t need to. You always need to take a leap of faith in the real world to get anything done, Sis. This isn’t school… This is life and death.
His grandfather showed a small, anticipatory smile as Stephen jumped back in.
“Indeed, but no age limit is specified in the Clemency Act, High Bishop. Is there any law barring dark elves from seeking pardon through a Holy Pledge?”
“No…” the elder mumbled, causing a stir amongst the throng. “But surely he can serve if he is a reincarnate—his mind is not that of a ten-year-old?”
“The law states a legal age of fifteen. We cannot make exceptions. Physically, in this world, he is ten. It is settled.”
The king’s words swept the chamber like an arctic wind, sharp enough to still every voice.
“As for the archaic law that you speak of, allowing the execution of dark elves, such wording is specific to governing actions of public executions, which is a right further clarified in law given to the king himself,” Stephen countered, causing even more angry mutters to fill the stands.
“I…guess that works?” Aria mumbled. “We’re on our way… Grandpa?!”
King Enrir’s smile fell. “There, Marquess, I must interject. While no, there is no law barring a dark elf from seeking clemency, including the thirty Imperium steel pieces in funds, you are incorrect for the first time.”
Damon’s gaze darted to the man who treated him like a son growing up, as his left hand tightened into a fist.
Many nobles nodded as their grandfather quoted a few legal codes before saying, “…These are clear. The law regarding the acceptable murder of dark elves is held as the king’s and civil responsibility. It was an ancient addition, which is not well known to even the nobility and lawyers of our nation. The Clemency Act pardons all royal and high noble transgressions, not civil.
“That being said, Damon…do you, under the light of the Holy Emperor, take an oath to stand for the light and join His army against the legions of Hell when you come of age?”
Aria internally growled. “Okay, nope. That’s BS. I object! So, just anyone off the street could just kill my brother?! What kind of law is that?”
No, did you hear him? Damon interjected, straightening and looking his emotionless grandfather in the eyes. He’s actually trying to help us while remaining totally transparent. He’s saying no one knows about this law except for people steeped in law, like the king or high clergy. Not even the high nobles can act against us. Only ‘civil’ action. This oath protects me from leadership and gives me the rights under clemency. We won.
“Wait, really? I don’t know… It sounded like total bullshit to me. I don’t want you to make any weird oaths!”
Shhhh.
“No, you shhhh, you…shusher! I’m the only smart one!”
Hiding the smile he wanted to show, Damon felt the air between him and his grandfather clear slightly. He had to follow the law. It was the core of his foundation. Yet, on some level, he still saw him as his grandson, which gave him hope for their mother.
“I proposed it. I accept.”
A burning heat encircled his wrists, forming a jagged halo representing the mark of one given clemency by oath of the Holy Emperor.
“Holy crap, Bro,” Aria hissed. “I can feel that through our bond. That’s some serious divine magic… I still don’t know about this. Typically, this sort of thing doesn’t turn out well in the end… In books anyway.”
Damon chuckled silently, lips twitching. She was panicking again—loud, stubborn, and smarter than he wanted to admit.
The nobles in the gallery were murmuring, some looking satisfied, others appearing frustrated. A few seemed calculating, as if already planning how to use his new status.
Cheer up, Aria. We won the first battle… Onto the next.
Damon flexed his fingers, testing the strange, spiritual weight of the magical binding as the oath flashed on-screen:
[Divine Contract: Accepted]
[Royal and noble transgressions have been stricken from divine record, paid by the price of service and life. Citizen rights restored under divine decree.]
[Terms: Service in the Royal Army at age 15.]
[Current Age: 10.]
[Duration: Until the Hell Portal is closed.]
[Restriction: No Feat may change the oath-taker’s race or physical appearance to look like any other race.]
5 years, huh? We’ve got time, I guess.
So… Sophia, Aria? Don’t hold out on me.
“Umm, yeah,” his little sister cleared her throat, “she sort of got turned into a monster.”
His heart seized.
Say that again?
“A monster! But it’s fine—probably.”
Probably, Aria? he pressed.
“Just…give me a minute to collect myself! Okay? I’m kind of freaking out about you…”
Aria…
He paused, recognizing the panic in her tone. It wasn’t fake. That was even more concerning, but there was a certain way to handle his little sister when she got evasive like this…and it required a bit of patience. As frustrating as that was.
Five minutes.
“Five minutes… Yeah. No, but Soph is strong.”
She is…but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need help.
“Mhm…”
He shoved down his rising panic, looking up at his uncle.
If they were going to get through this, he needed to keep a level head, even if his heart was yearning to see her face. Aria would tell him. It just took her a little longer to face things she tried to avoid. And, right now, there wasn’t much he could do.
He needed to free himself of this political nightmare before anything else.
Just hold on, Soph. I’m coming…
I’m coming.
-----------------
[ Next POV: Sophia ]
[ Theme: What is happening with Damon’s GF? ]
-----------------
