Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 44: Back from the dead-2

Chapter 44: Back from the dead-2

The massive courtroom, adjacent to the royal palace, looms with an imposing grandeur. Its design, reminiscent of a coliseum, features a series of circular, tiered seats that encircle the arena below, which is covered in coarse gravel. The seats are filling rapidly with nobles, their attire reflecting the opulence of their station. Elegant gowns in rich velvets and silks sway as the ladies make their way to their places, while the men don tailored suits and ornate cloaks, their sashes and insignias denoting their rank and wealth.

At the very top, a group of noble ladies, adorned in delicate pastel hues and sparkling jewelry, laugh and whisper amongst themselves, their excitement palpable. Their conversations flutter between the latest court gossip and speculations about the day’s events, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter. The air is tinged with a sense of anticipation, yet there’s an almost casual indifference to the gravity of the proceedings.

As more nobles take their seats, they exchange murmured remarks about the criminal in question, their voices hushed but full of intrigue. Some speculate on the nature of the crime, while others discuss the potential political ramifications. The room buzzes with a mix of curiosity and detached fascination.

Suddenly, a hush falls over the crowd as the Crown Prince of the Kingdom makes his entrance. His presence commands attention; his blonde hair gleams under the chandeliers, and his golden eyes survey the room with an air of regal authority. He waves to the gathered ladies, who respond with delighted squeals and enthusiastic waves. His cloak, a rich dark blue lined with gold, sways as he walks, and he takes his seat with an air of casual elegance.

Down below, the door used exclusively by criminals remains closed, its grim purpose a stark contrast to the vibrant scene above. The solemnity of the proceedings is juxtaposed sharply against the festive demeanor of the high society, creating a striking atmosphere of dissonance in the grand courtroom.

Three reporters, stationed near the edge of the courtroom, huddle together, their whispers barely audible over the hum of excited chatter. Each one is dressed in dark, practical attire, their notebooks and pens at the ready.

"Why do you think we’ve been summoned here today?" one of them, a young woman with sharp features and an inquisitive gaze, asks. Her tone is laced with curiosity and unease.

"It’s odd," replies a middle-aged man with a grizzled beard, adjusting his spectacles. "The court rarely calls us for these kinds of executions. Usually, they’re just routine affairs—no press allowed."

The third reporter, a lean man with a penchant for getting to the bottom of things, leans in closer. "I overheard a few nobles saying something about a particularly important case. They were whispering about a high-profile prisoner, someone who’s made a lot of enemies."

The young woman’s eyes widen. "A high-profile prisoner? You don’t think it’s related to the recent upheavals in the kingdom, do you?"

The middle-aged man nods thoughtfully. "Possibly. And there’s something else. There have been rumors about unrest in the city. Maybe this is more than just an ordinary execution. They might be trying to send a message."

The lean man frowns, scribbling notes furiously. "And the Crown Prince’s presence today is curious too. He doesn’t usually attend these things. What’s his role in all of this?"

The young woman glances around, her expression tense. "We need to keep our eyes and ears open. If there’s something unusual going on, we should be prepared to report it."

The three reporters exchange worried looks, their earlier enthusiasm replaced by a growing sense of foreboding. The air in the courtroom seems to thicken with anticipation, and they know that today’s events might be more significant than anyone realizes.

The courtroom’s atmosphere shifts as the judge takes his seat, his presence commanding instant silence. The once bustling chatter among the nobles fades to an uneasy hush, their anticipation palpable. In the dim light, a flicker of excitement dances in some of the nobles’ eyes, a stark contrast to the solemnity typically associated with such proceedings.

"Bring in the prisoner," the judge’s voice echoes through the cavernous space, cutting through the silence with an authoritative boom. The massive doors at the courtroom’s entrance creak open, and six armored men march in, dragging a figure between them.

The prisoner, a towering man with a powerful build, is barely recognizable in his tattered state. His tan skin is marred by grime, and locks of his black hair hang disheveled over his face. His once-proud attire—a cotton white shirt and black pants—now clings to him in rags. A heavy muzzle is strapped to his face, and his limbs are bound in thick chains that clank ominously with every step. Yet, despite the degradation, his black eyes blaze with a defiant fire, radiating an intense, almost palpable aura that commands attention.

As he is dragged into the center of the courtroom, a surge of murmurs and gasps ripples through the crowd. Whispers of disbelief and intrigue fill the air.

"Is that Victor, the Mad Dog? The one they say was nearly invincible?"

"Look at him now—barely a shadow of his former self."

"The Crimson General’s sentinel brought low. What could he have done to end up here?"

Despite his chains and tattered clothing, the sheer intensity of Victor’s presence remains undiminished. As he makes eye contact with members of the crowd, their gazes falter and shift away, unable to withstand the weight of his defiant stare.

The judge’s gavel strikes the sound block with a sharp crack, cutting through the uneasy murmur of the crowd. "Silence!" he commands, his voice resonating with authority. The room falls into an expectant hush, the whispers dwindling to nothing.

"We shall proceed with the sentencing of the accused," the judge announces, his tone brooking no argument. His gaze sweeps over the courtroom, making sure that every eye is focused on the proceedings.

As he speaks, one of the guards who had been dragging Victor roughly shoves him to the ground. The prisoner crashes to the floor with a resounding thud, his body sprawling out in a way that sends a shiver through the audience. A guttural groan escapes Victor’s lips, more akin to a feral growl than a human sound. The sound reverberates through the room, adding to the oppressive tension that hangs in the air.