Chapter 16 Trial of the Crown
The Omega Heir
The Grand Council Chamber had witnessed coronations, declarations of war, peace treaties, and the rise and fall of powerful noble houses.
Never had it witnessed a trial like this.
Every seat within the circular chamber was occupied.
Council members sat beneath the carved banners of the great houses.
Military commanders stood along the outer walls beside senior judges and provincial governors.
Representatives from the merchant guilds had been granted rare admission, while respected scholars and historians filled the gallery above.
Outside the palace, thousands of citizens crowded the square, waiting for news that would determine the future of the kingdom.
No one spoke above a whisper.
Every eye remained fixed on the center of the chamber.
King Aldric occupied the royal seat but did not preside.
According to the Royal Charter, a Trial of Succession required the Council itself to hear the evidence before the monarch could render judgment.
Lord Varric stood confidently at one side of the chamber.
Rowan stood opposite him.
Between them rested a long oak table covered with carefully organized documents collected over weeks of danger and sacrifice.
Copies of forgotten laws.
Ancient correspondence.
Treasury records.
Medical ledgers.
Fragments of a history someone had spent generations trying to erase.
The Lord Chancellor was the first to speak.
"My fellow councilors," Varric began, his calm voice filling the chamber, "today we are asked to overturn traditions that have guided this kingdom for centuries."
He gestured toward Rowan.
"The prince has returned, and for that we may all be grateful."
A few councilors exchanged uncertain glances.
"But gratitude cannot replace law."
He slowly lifted a copy of the current succession code.
"Our kingdom has long recognized that only an Alpha or Beta heir may inherit the Crown."
He placed the document back upon the table.
"These customs were not created through cruelty."
"They were established to preserve stability."
His gaze settled firmly on Rowan.
"If His Highness wishes to challenge that foundation, then he must prove far more than survival."
Several members of the Council nodded thoughtfully.
Others remained silent.
Councilor Helena rose from her seat.
"The Crown Prince has the right to answer."
King Aldric inclined his head.
"You may proceed."
Rowan stepped forward.
He felt the weight of hundreds of eyes upon him.
For most of his life, that attention had terrified him.
Every glance carried the possibility that someone would discover the secret he had been taught to fear.
Today...
There would be no more secrets.
He drew a slow breath.
"My lords."
"My ladies."
"My friends."
His voice remained steady despite the silence surrounding him.
"Before I present any document..."
He looked around the chamber.
"...there is one truth I owe every person here."
Several councilors leaned forward.
Lord Varric watched him carefully.
Rowan continued.
"My entire life, this kingdom has known me as a Beta."
He paused.
"That was a lie."
A ripple of confusion spread through the chamber.
"I was never a Beta."
He lifted his head.
"I am an Omega."
The words echoed beneath the vaulted ceiling.
For a heartbeat...
Nothing happened.
Then the chamber erupted.
"Impossible."
"An Omega?"
"The heir?"
"How could this happen?"
Several older nobles rose from their seats in open disbelief.
One struck his cane sharply against the stone floor.
"This is madness!"
Another councilor pointed accusingly toward the royal dais.
"The succession cannot continue!"
"Our laws forbid it!"
"They always have!"
The noise grew louder.
Some demanded immediate dismissal.
Others shouted for order.
Still others simply stared at Rowan in stunned silence.
King Aldric remained motionless.
Queen Elara watched her son with unmistakable pride.
Finally, Councilor Helena struck the ceremonial staff against the marble floor.
"Order!"
The chamber slowly quieted.
Lord Varric folded his hands together.
His expression suggested Rowan had just destroyed his own claim.
"You admit it freely," the Chancellor observed.
"I do."
"You understand what this confession means."
"I understand exactly what it means."
Varric smiled faintly.
"Then you also understand that the law is clear."
Rowan met his gaze calmly.
"I understand the current law."
The distinction caught several councilors' attention.
"The current law?" one historian repeated.
Rowan nodded.
"Yes."
He turned toward the long table where Mira carefully handed him a weathered leather volume.
Unlike the copied documents shown earlier, this book carried obvious age.
Its faded royal seal remained pressed into cracked crimson leather.
"This," Rowan said, raising the volume carefully, "is the original Book of Succession."
Several scholars immediately stood.
One elderly archivist adjusted his spectacles in disbelief.
"I thought that volume had been destroyed."
"So did many people."
Rowan opened the book carefully.
"The official version taught throughout the kingdom begins with King Edmund the Second."
He slowly turned several pages farther back.
"The original begins much earlier."
He placed the volume upon the table where the nearest councilors could see.
Councilor Edwin leaned forward first.
His eyes widened almost immediately.
"These pages..."
"They're genuine."
Another historian hurried beside him.
"The handwriting..."
"The seals..."
"The preservation..."
He looked up in astonishment.
"I've never seen these chapters."
"You weren't meant to."
Rowan's answer carried no anger.
Only sadness.
He gently turned another page.
Painted portraits filled the parchment.
Not kings.
Queens.
Some wore ceremonial crowns.
Others carried swords.
Several held infants while addressing assembled councils.
Beneath every portrait appeared the same title.
Sovereign of the Crown.
No designation followed.
No distinction.
Only ruler.
Councilor Helena quietly read one passage aloud.
"Let the worthiest child inherit, for wisdom, courage, and justice know no designation."
Silence settled once more.
The words felt almost unbelievable.
Another councilor reached for a different page.
"Queen Lyra."
He frowned.
"The official records barely mention her."
Rowan nodded.
"Yet according to these archives..."
He turned another page.
"...she ruled for thirty-two years."
A historian accepted the volume with trembling hands.
"This cannot..."
He stopped reading.
His expression changed completely.
"Trade reforms."
"Military treaties."
"The eastern canals."
"These accomplishments are all credited to King Alaric."
He looked toward the Council.
"They belonged to Queen Lyra."
More scholars gathered around the table.
Each discovered another inconsistency.
Another missing chapter.
Another forgotten sovereign.
Another deliberate alteration.
The atmosphere inside the chamber shifted.
Not suddenly.
Gradually.
Outrage gave way to uncertainty.
Uncertainty became curiosity.
Curiosity slowly transformed into doubt.
Lord Varric remained composed.
"Ancient documents alone cannot overturn living law."
"No," Rowan agreed.
"They cannot."
He rested one hand upon the open archive.
"But they can answer one very important question."
He looked directly at the assembled Council.
"Did our ancestors truly believe an Omega could never rule?"
The chamber remained silent.
Rowan answered his own question.
"No."
"They crowned them."
"They trusted them."
"They prospered under them."
His voice grew stronger.
"The prejudice we call tradition..."
He gently closed the ancient volume.
"...is not ancient at all."
He looked toward every noble gathered before him.
"It was written by men."
"It was copied by men."
"And it was preserved by men who feared losing power more than they loved the truth."
No one interrupted him.
Not even Lord Varric.
For the first time since the trial began, Rowan no longer stood before the Council as a prince asking permission to lead.
He stood as the rightful heir presenting the forgotten history of his kingdom.
And with every page laid bare before the assembled nobles, centuries of carefully maintained certainty began to crumble beneath the undeniable weight of truth.
A Guard's Honor
The chamber remained hushed as Rowan returned to his place beside the evidence table.
The ancient archives had done more than challenge old beliefs. They had forced every member of the Royal Council to confront the possibility that the kingdom's history had been deliberately rewritten. Faces that had entered the chamber filled with certainty now reflected hesitation instead.
Lord Varric understood the danger immediately.
He allowed only a brief silence before stepping forward once more.
"My fellow councilors," he said smoothly, "the succession is only one matter before this assembly."
His measured voice drew every eye back toward him.
"There remains another crime that cannot be ignored."
He turned toward the guards standing near the chamber entrance.
"Bring forward the accused."
The great doors opened.
Caelan entered the Council chamber surrounded by four palace guards.
The iron chains that had bound him beneath the palace had been removed, though his wrists still bore faint red marks where the metal had rested.
He wore simple dark clothing instead of the polished uniform of the Royal Guard, yet he carried himself with the same quiet confidence that had defined every day of his service.
No one seeing him would mistake him for a broken prisoner.
He walked like a soldier.
He stopped before the Council and bowed respectfully to King Aldric.
Then he straightened.
The silence deepened.
Many of the older nobles had known Caelan for years. They had watched him escort the royal family through festivals, diplomatic gatherings, and military ceremonies. Some remembered the young recruit whose discipline had earned promotion after promotion.
Few believed the accusations against him.
Lord Varric folded his hands.
"Captain Caelan Draven."
"The Council acknowledges your years of distinguished service."
He paused deliberately.