The silence that followed the Countess's revelation was not empty.
It was alive — trembling, taut, the stillness before the avalanche.
Aiden stood in the center of it all, eyes half-lidded, a slow smile carving its way across his lips like a secret the world was only beginning to understand.
The hall had turned from courtroom to crucible — heat, pressure, and truth smelting together until only what was pure could survive.
He raised his head, voice cutting through the murmurs like tempered steel.
"You speak of loyalty," he said softly, "but loyalty without truth is merely obedience to corruption. You raise your banners in the name of kings, yet you kneel before fear. Tell me, Commander—"
His golden eyes flared, catching the torchlight like molten dawn.
"—how much gold is your silence worth? How many good men have you buried beneath the weight of your pride?"
