Chapter 8: Good Call
The courtroom grew louder, some mocking Leor, some angry over the death of a noble at the hands of a commoner, some feeling fear from the immense pressure escaping from him.
A young yet tall and muscular boy entered the courtroom, closely held by two guards wearing silver armour and helmets.
He was handcuffed, his long brown hair covering his eyes completely, yet it couldn't hide the golden pupils wearing a fierce expression.
Johan met his eyes. Leor's lips curled in a smile, making Johan frown.
The fuck? No, no, probably smiling towards Selene... this bastard!! He gave the blushing Selene a sharp look, making her school her expression.
Suddenly, a long iron pole appeared at the front edge of the center podium—a small empty gap at the pole's lower edge. The guards instantly attached the handcuffs to that gap, which fitted perfectly.
Leor was now sitting on his butt, his back leaning on the thick pole. He extended his legs, sitting in a comfortable position, making everyone in the parliament frown in anger.
All seven seats were now filled. At Johan's right side was a red-haired man in his forties, his eyes scanning everything like a hawk.
Sir Christopher Von Fitzgerald, uncle of the King, a retired divine knight... maybe the kindest character in the whole game. Obviously a powerhouse, thought Johan, feeling an ache in his heart remembering his backstory.
His eyes turned towards the smiling man on his left, who said to the knights standing beside Leor in a dangerously low voice,
"Be careful. If Leor is harmed..."