Shadow

Chapter 20

Split of the Crown

In the early hours of a new dawn, the faint sunlight spilled across the skies of Nixara.
The military court was fully prepared to begin the trial of the century against Norton.

All representatives from the Conservative Party and the Opposition were present, along with officers of the police, the army, military generals, and the cavalry—led by the Royal Cavalry itself.
The prosecutor arrived with all the accusation files and evidence already prepared, as though the investigation had long been completed.

The king had signed an immediate arrest warrant for the accused. No lawyer had been appointed, as this was a military trial. The jury took their seats, and the main defendants stood inside the iron cage.

First among them was Baron the Thirteenth, shackled in heavy cuffs.
He stood in utter calm and elegance—Norton’s strongest knight, descendant of the mightiest cavalry clan in all of Norton—now standing tall to face his military trial for treason.

The king finally entered, surrounded by his royal guards, and took the front seat directly across from the judge.
With a single gesture of his hand, the trial began.

The judge commenced the proceedings and then granted the prosecutor permission to speak.

“...Ladies and gentlemen! Based on the investigations conducted over the past two months, and the evidence gathered, it has been proven that the late deputy Albert had embezzled funds. His partner Antoine previously confessed to their partnership during his detainment. After reviewing both the tax records and the port ledgers of Valembra, discrepancies between the old records and the transit-check records became undeniable, as shown before you.”

The judge reviewed the documents and nodded in acknowledgment.

“Your Honor! After reviewing the soldiers’ payroll files, it was found that enormous sums were embezzled from the army’s budget. When tracing the soldiers’ wages, it became clear that Sir Albert and Antoine had stolen nearly two billion—enough to equip an entire arsenal of unlicensed weapons! These weapons were found in Valembra’s storage sites. And after searching the Duke of Albert’s warehouses, we discovered sealed royal grain storage logs that never reached the southern refugee camps. This indicates the involvement of an external broker selling the stolen grain—Norton’s grain—to a foreign kingdom, explaining the sudden inflation of the Baron family’s wealth!”

The Baron stood firm, alert and composed.

“After investigation, it was confirmed that the caravans departing from Valembra’s military port arrived instead at the port of Rees—a city infamous for black-market dealings! According to official records, those caravans were supposed to carry aid to internal refugees, not external trade!”

Again, the judge nodded. After reviewing the evidence thoroughly, he permitted the witnesses to take the stand.

The first witnesses were a group of soldiers from Valembra’s port who had received reduced wages.
One testified:

“There were five thousand soldiers, but according to the transfer records, the wages were processed for eight thousand!”

The prosecutor responded, “Your Honor, this clearly shows that fake names were created to funnel nonexistent salaries into a private account!”

The judge nodded once more.

During all this, Shadow quietly watched the Baron from the side. Calm as ever, with a faint serene smile. Meanwhile, the Baron’s family was visibly tense.

Suddenly, the next witness entered—the tavern owner from Valembra who had been brutally beaten the previous night. Ivanka dragged him in behind her like a dog on a leash.
He was psychologically shattered, eyes wide with terror when he saw the king and the Baron in the hall.

Under pressure, he confessed everything about Baron, Albert, and Antoine before the judge. He was detained for a later civil trial.

Then came the final witness—the king himself.

“...Your Honor, this document proves that the Baron family purchased new estates and mansions during the same period the embezzlement occurred. Where did you get this wealth, Baron? You haven’t inherited anything recently.”

The Baron did not answer—his silence counted as implicit guilt.

The king continued, pulling a letter from his military coat:
“Additionally... this letter was found after confiscating the Baron’s properties. It reads: ‘Your last shipment of grain has arrived. We await the next batch from the Duke of Valembra.’ Is this not sufficient evidence, Your Honor? Thank you.”

The king stepped down from the witness stand and returned to his seat.
The prosecutor resumed:

“Based on what has been presented before you, Your Honor, I request the maximum sentence for Baron XIII, Erika von Baron, and—”

“Hahahahahaha!!”

The Baron burst into loud laughter.
Everyone in the courtroom turned toward him—including the king.

Suddenly, a battalion stormed into the courtroom.
The judge was shot dead instantly, and a violent battle erupted inside the chamber!

Meanwhile, in Fristov, the greenhouses were under construction.
The queen was preparing shallow irrigation tunnels for agriculture, while Ivan supervised the installation of hydrasteel glass.

In the midst of the work, Asma heard chanting from outside. Although hydrasteel was soundproof, she and those inside the greenhouse could see the crowd and faintly hear the noise.

The queen stepped out with her guards, Ivan leading the way. They were stunned—the chanting was in her honor.

“Long live Queen Florencia Rosaria!
The proud Queen of Norton!”

Asma whispered nervously to Ivan:
“Who is that, Ivan? Is she like Desmond? A former queen?”

Ivan laughed.
“Hahaha! My lady! You’re clever most of the time—what happened now? That title is for you!”

“Haaah?” Asma grimaced in discomfort. She stepped onto the platform and shouted:

“Stopppp! I don’t like that name!”

Instead of stopping, the people grew emotional.

“How humble she is!”
“Our queen has a kinder heart than the king!”
“She’s an angeeel!”

Then, suddenly, they raised a new banner—a red Rosaria rose.

Asma stared suspiciously. She looked toward Ivan, whose expression clearly signaled something was wrong.
Before she could react, she heard suspicious men shouting within the crowd:

“Long live Queen Florencia Rosaria!”
“Down with the king!”
“We are alllll—”
“Owls!”
“Our hearts are—”
“Owls!”
“Leave! Leave! Leave!”

Suddenly, gunfire erupted chaotically.
The queen was escorted back into the greenhouse, while Ivan ran toward the crowd with the guards.

“Damn it! What kind of coup is this?! They’re hiding among the people…” Ivan gritted his teeth, trying to aim at targets.

“Your Highness! They’re an infiltrating cell!” shouted his bodyguard, Baybars.

“I know! But who are they? Rebels? No… this is bigger than a mere coup!”

From atop Mount Graive, Ivan and Baybars aimed downward at suspicious targets.
The Count of Fristov joined them.

“Your Highness! We’ve secured the queen’s path to the mountain—but this place is not safe!”

Ivan snapped at him:
“And you think you’ll take the queen back to your manor?! In your dreams! I won’t allow it! The conspiracy is unfolding in your city, and you want me to trust you? What nonsense is this?!”

Asma arrived, barely keeping her composure.

“I–Ivan!... What’s happening?”

He exhaled angrily. “A staged coup! I fear they want to kidnap you!”

Suddenly—his voice broke into a choking gargle.

Asma’s pupils widened as her face was splattered with blood.

In a horrifying moment of silence, the prince collapsed—soaked in his own blood.

Asma screamed, shaking him violently:
“Ivaaaaan! Ivan!! Wake up!”

Baybars interrupted urgently:
“Step aside, Your Majesty!”
He carried the prince at once and rushed him toward the Count’s estate.

Asma was left behind on the mountain with the old Count.

“Your Majesty! Do not fear! I will protect you until the end!”

Tears fell from her eyes, but she did not break. She steadied herself—strong and resolute.

“The prince will live! I know he will! Count Firstov—help me. Where is the nearest frozen river?”

“What are you planning, Your Majesty?”

“Do as I say! Or are you part of the conspiracy?”

“Y–yes, Your Majesty!”

They went to the frozen river in the Graive plains. Asma ordered the Count to hide, then she spread her wings.

She gathered her light and formed a massive light bomb atop the frozen water.
The reflection was blinding—forcing the dark nymphs of Fristov to flee.

She muttered:
“Yes! Run! I want the cell members to remain… they must think Ivan is dead for sure!”

As expected, the people of Fristov fled—only the Owl cell remained.

Masked dark nymphs warriors—all armed and prepared.

Realizing her plan had worked, and seeing the royal guard advancing, the Owl members shouted:

“The queen has succeeded in killing the tainted heir! Long live Queen Rosaria!”

Hearing this, the Count of Fristov froze.
Slowly, he crept up behind Asma with his sword drawn—shielding his eyes from her blinding wings.
Just as he was about to strike—

Asma sensed the shift in air.
She spun around instantly.

“Count Fristov!!…”

“You’re a traitor! You conspired to kill the prince! Have you joined the Owls? Did Felix order this?!”

Asma froze for a moment… then launched herself at the Owl fighters.

She hunted them like a mad storm.
She slaughtered them one after another—never imagining she could be so bloodthirsty.
Her light alone killed anyone who came near, strengthened by her overwhelming rage.

She was faster than them.
She was a Gytophos light fairy.
A wielder of the Light Treasure.
Not to be underestimated.

Her movements became like photons slicing through darkness.
Within minutes, she was decapitating the traitors with her dagger.

In less than ten minutes, the plains of Graive were carpeted with the corpses of Owls.

The Count stood frozen, horrified—he had misjudged the queen… yet still understood nothing.

Asma collapsed in the middle of the frozen lake, gasping for breath.

“Your… Your Majesty!” the Count stammered, approaching her.

Suddenly, a deafening blast echoed across the plains—
an orange explosion lighting the blackened sky of Graive.

The one-armed commander of the Fristov army staggered toward them—bleeding heavily, on the brink of death.

“Your… Your Majesty! The enemy army… is coming! There’s no time! The Death Shadows—the Owls—the anaerobic tank has exploded! And the supply line! Communication with the outside… is cut… We are surrounded… you must flee…”

He collapsed dead at her feet.

As Asma stared in shocked disbelief, she saw black shadows piercing through the orange light of the exploding storage tanks.

An army had indeed been assembled.
And it had now completely surrounded the Graive plains.

 🔥 Tell me what you think in the comments!
Updates every Friday & Saturday — 9:00 PM Cairo Time (GMT+2) / 11:00 AM PST
Season 1 is about to end soon!
There will be a short rest for a week before Season 2... 
Till this time ISA! Stay well... and tell me your thoughts and opinions^^