The Hidden Monster of House Vale

Chapter 71: Chapter - 71 - Equal Before the Law

The grand doors of the throne room swung open with a resonant groan, and the royal guards escorted Lucien Vale through the towering entrance. His footsteps echoed against the pristine white marble floors, each step measured and unhurried, betraying none of the weight of the moment.

The throne room of Valtheria was a vision crafted from dreams—a palace seemingly plucked from the heavens themselves. Pillars of alabaster rose toward a vaulted ceiling painted with constellations that shimmered with captured starlight. The golden throne sat elevated upon a dais of seven steps, its surface gleaming with intricate carvings of dragons and phoenixes locked in eternal dance. Beside it, silver seating arrangements stretched in perfect symmetry for the ministers and nobility who had gathered to witness this trial.

At the heart of this celestial court sat King Aldric, his presence as commanding as the throne he occupied. His crown caught the light from the crystalline chandeliers, casting prismatic shadows across his weathered features. Beside him, Queen Cynthia maintained an expression of regal composure, though her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the armrest.

Princess Sylvie stood to the queen’s left, her silver-white gown flowing like captured moonlight. Her posture remained rigid, but her eyes tracked Lucien’s every movement with barely concealed anxiety. On the queen’s right, Princess Verna observed with cool detachment, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.

Prince Andrin and Prince Falber flanked the king’s side, though Andrin’s face burned with barely suppressed triumph. His hands clasped behind his back, fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against his palms.

Lucien Vale walked through the center of this magnificent hall without so much as a sideways glance at the architectural wonders surrounding him. His gaze remained fixed forward, calm and collected, a serene smile playing upon his lips. For a man who had never before set foot in the throne room—who should have been awestruck by its splendor—he appeared utterly disinterested.

The guards released him at the designated spot and retreated to their positions, leaving Lucien standing alone in the vast emptiness of the court’s center. Every eye in the chamber fixed upon him: ministers, nobles, knights, and royalty alike. The weight of their collective scrutiny would have crushed a lesser man.

Lucien Vale stood unbowed.

He executed a formal bow toward the king and queen—precise, respectful, perfectly measured—then straightened to his full height. His hands found their place behind his back, fingers interlaced in an almost casual gesture of composure.

The silence stretched like drawn silk.

A minister stepped forward, unrolling a jade tablet that glowed with inscribed text. His voice carried through the chamber with practiced authority.

”Lucien Vale, you are hereby accused of mass murder by Prince Andrin. According to the prince’s testimony, you poisoned the water supply of the common people to artificially increase demand for your antidote potions. This calculated act of greed, he claims, was designed to secure excessive profit and ensure an absolute victory for Princess Sylvie in the trial of Imperial succession.”

The minister’s words hung in the air like a death sentence.

King Aldric leaned forward on his throne, his guttural voice rumbling through the chamber like distant thunder. ”Lucien Vale, do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Lucien’s smile remained fixed, warm and unperturbed. ”So, if I understand this correctly...” He paused, letting the words settle. ”Prince Andrin accuses me of mass murdering the precious subjects of Valtheria because he believes I hoarded the antidote, poisoned the water supply of the poor, and profited from their suffering.”

He tilted his head slightly, an almost amused glint in his eyes. ”I am deeply sorry to disappoint, but the only person who stands to benefit from this scenario is Prince Andrin himself.”

The court erupted in murmurs. Prince Andrin’s face contorted with rage. ”You bastard! How dare you suggest I would—”

The king’s raised hand silenced him instantly. The prince’s words died in his throat, though his nostrils flared with barely contained fury.

”So, Lucien Vale,” the king continued, his voice dangerously calm, ”you are claiming that everything Prince Andrin has alleged is false?”

”Yes, my lord.”

King Aldric’s eyes narrowed. ”Lucien Vale, if it is discovered that you have lied before this court, the consequences will be... unforgettable.”

Lucien bowed his head slightly, though the smile never left his face. ”Forgive me for being so forward, Your Majesty, but might I ask what those consequences would entail?”

The king’s lips curled into something between a smile and a snarl. ”Your assets would be seized. Your cultivation would be stripped from you. Your core would be destroyed.” He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. ”And since we are speaking of mass murder, you would be blinded with barbed wires. The procedure is... thorough.”

Lucien’s eyes widened slightly—a calculated expression of alarm. ”B-but Your Majesty, I am the champion of Princess Sylvie. Surely my mistakes would reflect upon her standing—”

”Silence!” The king’s voice cracked like a whip. ”Everyone is equal in the kingdom of Valtheria! Whether you are a mortal or a Realm Master, whether you are a champion of a prince or princess, or even if you are royalty itself—the law applies to all equally.”

’Pretending to stutter is such hard work,’ Lucien thought, maintaining his facade of nervousness.

Prince Andrin seized the moment, his voice dripping with venom. ”So you accept it, then? You admit to poisoning the water supply?”

Lucien’s smile returned, calm and infuriating. ”Just because I inquired about the punishment and wondered about potential benefits does not make me a criminal. I believe that’s called... due diligence?”

The king’s gaze shifted to his son. ”Prince Andrin, explain your reasoning. Why do you believe Lucien is the one who poisoned the water supply?”

Andrin stepped forward, his voice confident. ”Your Majesty, the shop established by Lucien Vale primarily sold poison antidotes, with only a few other potions available. How could he have predicted such a sudden need for antidotes unless he engineered the crisis himself?”

The king turned back to Lucien. ”Do you have an answer to this?”

”Your Majesty,” Lucien began, his tone respectful but tinged with something that might have been amusement, ”the potions were not my idea—they came from Princess Sylvie. I merely carried out her orders.” He paused, allowing the information to settle. ”As for the profits, a new dungeon was discovered shortly after I opened the shop—a dungeon containing a poison swamp. Most of our earnings have come from realm masters seeking protection against its dangers.”

He spread his hands in a gesture of openness. ”And for the poor people of Valtheria, I sold them potions at half price—by Princess Sylvie’s express order. If Prince Andrin’s accusation were true, that would mean I possessed foreknowledge of the dungeon’s existence, which is quite impossible.”

A wave of murmurs swept through the court—but this time, they were murmurs of admiration. Nobles and ministers turned to look at Princess Sylvie with newfound respect. She had the grace to appear modestly surprised, though her eyes gleamed with triumph.

The king’s expression remained unreadable. ”But why does your shop contain only poison antidotes? Why not a proper variety of other potions?”

”My lord,” Lucien replied smoothly, ”when I was negotiating with the Alchemist Guild Master, she informed me that her Octagon Flux Cauldron—the instrument she used to brew all her potions with astral energy—had been destroyed by intruders. This made it impossible for her to continue brewing.”

He paused for effect. ”Princess Sylvie, ever concerned for the guild’s welfare, ordered me to purchase all their existing stock to prevent them from suffering losses. However, most potions expire with time except poison antidotes. The guild had an enormous surplus of poison antidotes compared to other varieties.” His smile widened slightly. ”Perhaps the heavens themselves wanted Princess Sylvie to save those poor souls.”

Lucien was no believer—he had seen too much of the world’s darkness to put faith in divine intervention. But he knew the king was a devout man, and he wielded that knowledge like a blade.

The king turned to his royal minister, who consulted his records with practiced efficiency. After a moment, the minister nodded in confirmation: Lucien’s story checked out.

”So you are saying,” the king asked, his tone losing some of its earlier menace, ”that no one poisoned the water supply at all?”

”I did not say that, Your Majesty.” Lucien’s smile remained warm, almost gentle. ”I do believe someone deliberately poisoned the water supply. I simply do not believe that someone was me.”

The king leaned forward, interest flickering in his eyes. ”And who would that be, then?”

Lucien clasped his hands behind his back, his posture relaxed. ”My lord, whoever committed this act must have purchased a substantial quantity of poison. Given that this is no ordinary toxin, I would estimate the cost as considerable. They would have needed to buy from outside Valtheria—purchasing poison within the kingdom would have been too obvious.”

He took a measured breath. ”We should be looking for someone who has visited outside Valtheria in recent weeks. Someone with connections, with a background in trade. Someone who would benefit from framing me as a criminal before the eyes of the kingdom.”

The implication hung in the air like smoke.

Every eye in the chamber turned toward Prince Andrin.

He was the only one who had left the country recently. He had the most experience with trade. His accounts had been curiously irregular—everyone knew of his fascination with forbidden artifacts, his secret dealings in the black markets of neighboring kingdoms.

But Lucien had already taken precautions. Celbeth’s nimble fingers had done their work, siphoning gold from Andrin’s treasury to create discrepancies that would be impossible to explain. The prince’s accounts would show money missing—gold that had never been spent on artifacts, gold that could only have purchased poison.

Prince Andrin’s face had gone pale, then red with fury. ”Lucien, you bastard! Are you accusing me?”

Lucien’s smile never wavered. ”I’m not accusing anyone, Your Highness. That’s not my style. I simply stated facts. What conclusions others draw from them is their own affair.”

”You... you bastard!” Andrin’s composure shattered. His voice rose to a shriek, his handsome features twisting into something ugly. ”You take everything from me!”

”If you are innocent,” Lucien observed mildly, ”then this should pose no problem for you, should it?”

Andrin’s hands shook with rage, but he forced himself to breathe. ”I have no problem with any investigation. You’ll see how wrong you are. You’re nothing but a noble—I am royal blood.”

King Aldric’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. ”Zinnia.”

The female knight stepped forward from her position beside the throne. She was a giant among women—two hundred centimeters of coiled muscle and lethal grace. Her skin was a warm brown, her dark hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. A brown top bared her midriff and the intricate tattoos that covered her torso. Her skirt fell longer on one side than the other, revealing a thigh covered in more inked patterns—tribal markings that spoke of her barbarian heritage.

Her face remained stoic, utterly expressionless. Zinnia was a Realm Master, a personal bodyguard to the king, and she specialized in the kind of physical combat that left nothing behind but rubble.

”Search Prince Andrin’s chambers,” the king commanded. ”Thoroughly.”

Zinnia bowed and departed, taking several soldiers with her. The silence she left behind was suffocating.

Minutes stretched like hours.

When Zinnia returned, she carried a bundle wrapped in cloth. She spread it open before the throne—a collection of items that made Prince Andrin’s face drain of all color.

The royal minister stepped forward, examining each item with meticulous care. His hands trembled slightly as he picked up a leather pouch that had fallen from the bundle, spilling its contents across the marble floor.

Glass vials. Empty vials. Vials that had once contained poison.

The minister’s face went pale. ”Your Majesty... these are vials of poison. And I have checked Prince Andrin’s accounts.” He swallowed hard. ”The amounts match perfectly with the quantity of poison required. However, in his records, this expenditure is listed as ’artifacts.’ His gold reserves are missing—the exact amount these vials would have cost.”

He counted quickly. ”There are seventy vials in total.”

Prince Andrin’s composure finally shattered completely. ”You bastard!” he screamed, pointing a trembling finger at Lucien. ”What did you do?! How did you enter my chambers?!”

Lucien’s smile remained serene, utterly unbothered by the prince’s outburst. ”Your Highness, I haven’t left this throne room since my arrival. The soldiers who escorted me can confirm my presence here the entire time.”

”Big brother.” Princess Sylvie’s voice rang out clear and sweet, cutting through the chaos. ”Please do not drag my champion into the mess you have created. Your missing money, these vials of poison—everything points to you. I remained silent throughout this trial because I was unaware of this incident, but your obsession with the throne has blinded you.”

Her voice hardened. ”You poisoned the very people we are sworn to protect.”

The crowd erupted in cheers. Nobles and ministers alike raised their voices in support of Princess Sylvie, their earlier loyalties forgotten in the wake of such damning evidence.

Lucien had given her all the credit, and she wore it like a crown.

”I just remembered something,” Lucien said, his voice carrying through the chamber. ”His Majesty stated that everyone is equal before the law.”

He turned to face the king, his smile never wavering. ”Your Majesty, perhaps it is time to find a barbed wire for Prince Andrin.”