At the next dawn's court assembly, Benedict took his place at the forefront of the officials, his ashen face accentuated by the deep violet of his ministerial robes. Though visibly drained, he held his ground with ironclad resolve.
Alistair's eyes blazed with murderous intent, his glare sharp enough to flay a man alive. The impeachment documents against Prince Alistair had already formed a towering pile.
The hall erupted. Indignant voices clamored.
"A prince of the realm, lusting after a minister's fiancée, even assaulting an imperial official. If Your Majesty does not punish this, how will you answer to the people?"
"The Seventh Prince stirs chaos, spitting on the law. This is beyond reprehensible."
The King smacked the armrest of his throne, his voice like a whip c***k.
"Alistair.
