Nyrius
Idon't sleep.
By the fourth hour I've stopped trying. I’m as prepared as I can be, but Malrec’s had time to plan his exit.
Cyran reviews the stacks while I write the formal challenge filing for the oversight council's morning session.
"If this goes sideways in the courtroom," he says, "we have no legal mechanism to stop the sentencing from proceeding."
"It won't go sideways."
"The oversight council has two members who already signed Malrec's acceleration order." He sets down the ledger. "They're not going to welcome evidence that implicates them in the same scheme."
"They'll welcome it considerably less if they don't acknowledge it now and it surfaces later." I finish the filing and set it aside. "A council member who responds to evidence by suppressing it becomes part of the conspiracy on record. Most of them aren't willing to go that far."
"Most," Cyran says.
"Most is enough for a majority." I stand up and reach for my cloak. "Have the men ready to ride."
He picks up the document stack. "And if Malrec moves the sentencing before we arrive?"
"Then we ride faster." I buckle my sword belt at my waist. "Is there anything else?"
He purses his lips and his eyes linger — the long, considering look that says he’s decided to say something he knows I won't like.
“This pregnancy is more of a problem than you want to face.”
I hadn't decided yet how to handle that, beyond claiming the child as mine. There’s always fallout, and the time will come when I have to face it. I walk out of the tent and into the camp, where eight of my most trusted guards are finishing their morning preparations. They look up when I appear.
"Listen." I stop in the center of the camp.
"Edria of Oxwood is carrying my child. Both of them are under my personal protection as of this moment.
If anyone in this territory moves against either of them — legally, politically, or physically — they answer to me directly.
" I look at each face in turn. "That position doesn't change based on what happens today. Clear?"
Eight nods. No hesitation from any of them.
Behind me, I hear Cyran exhale quietly.
Word moves faster than horses. By the time we're saddled and ready to ride, two of my men have spoken to contacts in the Denvara lane, and by the time we clear the first mile east, a rider from Thalen's estate is already coming the other direction.
The meeting happens at a crossroads inn — Thalen, Fenrath, and two others I recognize as habitual followers of whoever speaks loudest. Thalen looks like a man who has been awake since my announcement and is furious about both.
"You announced it to your guards," he says, before I've dismounted fully. "In a camp. Where anyone could hear."
"That was the intention."
"You have lost your mind." He steps forward. "Do you understand what you've done? You've handed every human settlement in this territory grounds to claim noble acknowledgment of mixed children. You've set a precedent that will take a generation to—"
"Good." I hand my reins to Cyran and face him. "Then it'll take a generation to undo, which means it might actually hold."
Thalen's expression flattens with anger fueled by a personal stance and no logical argument.
"I will bring every lord with a grievance against your reforms to a formal council session.
I will call for a governance review. I will make sure your name is attached to every consequence of this situation for as long as—"
"Do it." I step closer to him. "Rally every noble you can find.
Call the session. Put it on record." I raise a challenging eyebrow.
"And while you're building your case, I'll be filing evidence that two sitting council members took payments from a magistrate who armed rebels and framed a human woman to hide his income.
" I tilt my head slightly. "We can both go on record today, Thalen.
Your choice which record you want to be on. "
The other lords are quiet.
Thalen stares at me without pretense. The anger is still there, but underneath it, the thoughts are running. He's too smart not to see where this goes if he pushes it today.
"This isn't over," he says.
"No." I turn back to my horse. "But today it is."
I mount and ride for Oxwood.
We hear the crowd before we see the village.
The sentencing square is packed. At the far end, Malrec stands on the raised platform with his evidence table and his witnesses and enough self-satisfaction that you’d think he won already.
Edria is dragged from the prison entrance across the square when we come through the lane.
She's in chains, her auburn hair loose and tangled, her face pale from bad food and cold stone. She's walking under her own power despite the soldiers on each arm, chin up, eyes moving. She finds me across the crowd before I've reached the square edge.
Our eyes meet for a moment. Then I look at Cyran.
"With me," I say.
We push through the crowd toward the platform.
Malrec sees me coming. His expression doesn't falter, but his hands, resting on the evidence table, press flat against the surface — a small, involuntary weight shift. He knows what I'm carrying. He doesn't know yet if it's enough.
I reach the foot of the platform steps and stop. The crowd quiets in a ripple outward from where I'm standing.
I reach into my coat and produce the first document. Then the second. I hand them to Cyran without looking away from Malrec.
"Oversight council clerk," I say, loud enough for everyone gathered to hear.
"I'm filing a formal challenge to these proceedings on grounds of fabricated evidence, corrupted witness testimony, and conspiracy to obstruct regional governance.
" I study the assembled crowd — the villagers, the council soldiers, every face watching.
"I also have evidence that the magistrate presiding over this sentencing has personally profited from the weapons trafficking he's prosecuting this woman for enabling. "
The square goes very still.
Malrec opens his mouth.
I speak first. "Velis's signed testimony.
Ledgers. Account records tied to this magistrate's office.
" I hold up the documents. "All of it filed with the oversight council as of this morning.
" I look at Malrec and smirk. "The woman standing in those chains was framed because she was the most convenient way to discredit my investigation into you. "
No one speaks aloud, but a few whispers ripple through the crowd.
Then, from somewhere from the town, a farmer I recognize says: "We knew it."
And the quiet breaks.