Chương 135: Chapter 130. Welcome to the capital (2)

The moment his name was called, Rayne felt his chest tighten. There was something about the way the soldier had said it in a grating voice, like he was calling out a criminal rather than a soldier. The sound alone made Rayne wince. Before he could respond, someone from the far left pointed toward him.

"He's there." That was all it took. Rayne tried to push himself up immediately, his hands pressing against the stone beneath him, but the world still spun slightly around him. The teleportation had left his body heavier than it should have been, his balance off just enough to make even simple movement feel slow. He barely managed to rise halfway before two crimson-armoured men broke from the line and moved toward him. Rayne opened his mouth, trying to speak, but he didn't even get the chance.

A boot slammed into his stomach. The impact knocked the air straight out of him. His body folded as he was thrown back onto the ground, his breath leaving him in a sharp, painful rush. Before he could recover, the other men grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back.

"Fucking bastard of a traitor," the man muttered under his breath. Pain shot through Rayne's shoulder, and his teeth clenched instinctively, his body reacting even before his mind caught up on what was happening. The next second, the first man drove a punch into his side. That was enough. The nausea, the disorientation, the weakness from the teleportation—none of it mattered in that moment. Rayne's instincts took over, and he pushed mana through his pathways without thinking, ready to lash out.

But just as he gathered it—"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The man holding his arm tightened his grip, his tone carrying a warning that cut through Rayne's anger just enough to make him hesitate. Another soldier stepped forward, already holding a pair of cuffs. Before Rayne could react, the two guards forced his hands forward, holding them steady. Cold metal snapped shut around his wrists. Feeling the heaviness on his arms, his anger sharpened even further.

He had barely taken a breath, and they were treating him like he had killed a prince. If anything, it sharpened. He immediately pushed mana toward his hands again, aiming to let out his mana threads through the cuffs, but— His mana didn't respond. It didn't flow. It didn't gather. It didn't move. It was still there, deep in his core, but it refused to come out, as if something had sealed it in place. For a second, Rayne froze, confusion cutting through his thoughts before his eyes dropped to the cuffs.

They were made of a strange black metal unlike anything he had seen before. And they were doing something to him. He could feel it if he focused. A faint energy coming out of them, locking his mana down in a way he couldn't bypass. For a brief moment, he considered breaking the cuffs with sheer strength. But the thought didn't last. Not with dozens of crimson-armoured soldiers standing around him.

"Get him to the carriage," one of them said sharply.

"We're on short time." The two men holding him didn't hesitate. They yanked him up to his feet, their grip firm on his shoulders as they forced him upright. Rayne staggered slightly as his balance failed him again, but they didn't slow down, pushing him forward without care. For a brief moment, Rayne almost hoped someone would step in. Captain Edran, Casper, maybe someone from his party—anyone, but no one moved. Everything had happened too fast.

By the time anyone could have reacted, he was already being dragged away, and even if they had wanted to interfere, this wasn't a place where they could act freely. These men clearly had the authority to drag him out like this. The two men pushed him out of the chamber without pause. They moved him through a long corridor, their grip never loosening. Rayne stumbled more than once, his body still not fully recovered from the teleportation, but they didn't care. Each misstep only earned him a harder shove forward.

By the time they stepped out into the open, Rayne barely had the chance to take in his surroundings. A sharp blow struck the back of his head. His vision flickered for a second as his head snapped forward, and the next thing he knew, he was being pushed again, this time harder, straight toward a waiting carriage. The door was opened, and Rayne was shoved inside without care.

He hit the floor roughly, his shoulder taking most of the impact, but before he could even push himself up, one of the men stepped in after him. He looked down at Rayne, his expression hidden behind the helmet but his eyes visible through the slit were as cold as ice.

"Stay right there on the ground," he said flatly.

"I don't tolerate bastards or traitors taking the same seat as me. And you are both." With that, he turned and sat down on the bench, his posture relaxed but his gaze never left Rayne. The door shut behind them with a heavy thud, sealing the space. Rayne's jaw tightened. There was a lot he wanted to say. A lot he wanted to do. But as the seconds passed, the sharp edge of his anger began to settle, even if it didn't fade. Captain Edran had warned him that he might be dragged the moment they reached Valers.

Still, Rayne hadn't expected it to be this bad, not this humiliating. The thought of tearing the man apart crossed his mind more than once, but he forced it down. He didn't know anything about these soldiers beyond what he could see, and what he could see told him they were strong. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. And he was not in a position to fight them. Not with the cuffs still suppressing his mana. So he stayed quiet.

The carriage began to move, the motion steady as it rolled forward, but Rayne didn't shift from where he sat on the floor. He didn't try to stand or even glance outside. He knew the man was watching and waiting for it to smack him again, maybe even beat him till he couldn't walk properly. So he remained where he was, sitting on the cold wooden floor, his back straight, his eyes lowered. The journey through the city felt longer than it probably was.

The carriage moved quickly, and more than once, the wheels struck uneven stone hard enough to shake the entire thing. Every turn came sharply, making the carriage tilt enough that Rayne nearly lost his balance on the wooden floor several times. It seemed the driver was in a genuine hurry. Without being able to see outside, there wasn't much for Rayne to do other than think. So, that's exactly what he did. His thoughts drifted toward what waited for him once the carriage stopped.

He already knew where they were taking him. For weeks now, the truthsayer trial had remained at the center of his thoughts, and both Captain Edran and Casper had spent time preparing him for it. He knew what to say, what not to say, how much truth to give the ones judging him. According to Captain Edran, truthsayer trials were verbal. The accused was questioned, not beaten for answers like some criminal dragged from an alley. The whole point of a truthsayer was that lies themselves became difficult to maintain.

But after the way the crimson soldiers had treated him, Rayne no longer knew what to expect. The thought alone made his jaw tighten. Still, no matter what happened, he would have to endure it. There wasn't another path left for him anymore. He had come too far to break now. The soldier sitting above him remained silent through the entire ride, but Rayne could still feel the man's eyes on him constantly. The hatred in that gaze never faded.

If circumstances had been different, he would have gladly buried a blade into the man's throat. Back in the army, things had at least been simpler in some ways. There had always been danger, politics, and people trying to crush him, but his growing strength had also given him a certain amount of protection. But here… Here he was nothing more than a small fish dropped into an ocean filled with creatures far larger than himself. Rayne understood that very clearly now.

Still, after everything he had survived, after everything he had done just to stay alive, he refused to accept that defending himself against Fredrick would somehow become the reason for his death. As the thought crossed his mind, the carriage jolted violently one last time before coming to a sudden stop. Rayne nearly hit his head against the bench from the force. The soldier above him grinned faintly beneath his helmet before reaching for the door and pulling it open.

"We're here, bastard," he said coldly.

"Get down. And know this—if you try to run, we have orders to kill you." Rayne didn't respond. He simply pushed himself up slowly and stepped out of the carriage. The first thing he saw was a massive building. Tall stone walls rose high above the street, dark grey in color and lined with narrow windows with bars behind them. Wide stairs led toward enormous open gates reinforced with black iron, and people constantly moved in and out beneath them.

Some were dressed in expensive robes or cleaner uniforms, likely officials or scribes, while others were far less fortunate. Rayne immediately noticed the prisoners. Several people in cuffs or chains were being dragged across the courtyard or up the stairs, some resisting, others looking completely broken already. A few had bruises across their faces, while one older man could barely walk without being shoved forward repeatedly.

Unlike Rayne, though, most of them were handled by ordinary city guards that wore steel armours, not the crimson ones. If his guess was right, then this was the Magister's office. The place where judgement was carried out in Valers. Rayne barely had another second to look before the soldier behind him barked sharply.

"Move." A rough shove hit his back immediately after, forcing him forward toward the gates. Rayne didn't look back, and simply started walking toward the stairs ahead of him while the crimson-armoured men followed close behind. The moment they entered the building properly, he could feel eyes turning toward him from every direction. People noticed the crimson soldiers immediately. Conversations lowered or stopped entirely as clerks, guards, prisoners, and even passing officials moved aside to clear the path.

Some stared openly at the cuffs around his wrists while others quickly looked away the moment Rayne's gaze almost shifted toward them. The soldiers escorted him through a long stone corridor lined with wooden doors and oil paintings fixed against the walls. Their boots echoed heavily with every step, and the deeper they went into the building, the quieter the place became. Eventually, they reached a staircase and began climbing.

Rayne's legs still felt slightly heavy from the teleportation and the rough treatment earlier, but he forced himself to keep a steady pace. The last thing he wanted was to stumble again in front of these men. Once they reached the second floor, the soldiers guided him through another corridor before finally stopping in front of a thick wooden door reinforced with dark metal. The same man from the carriage stepped forward immediately. He knocked twice against the wood before speaking loudly.

"We have him, my lords." For a second, there was silence. Then a deep male voice came from the other side of the door.

"Send him in." The soldier nodded once before turning toward Rayne.

"Go inside," he said coldly.

"And remember, if you try anything, we will kill you. Though you can't do much with the cuffs around, but I don't trust you." Rayne didn't move right away, having heard enough threats for one day. The anger he had flushed away rose in his heart, and he couldn't let the humiliation be forgotten.

"I heard that before," he said flatly.

"You really love saying that, don't you?" The soldier's expression darkened instantly.

"What did you say, you piece of shit?" He took a sharp step forward, anger flashing in his eyes beneath the helmet. Rayne didn't answer the insult. Instead, he tilted his head slightly and asked calmly, "I want to know your name." The man didn't respond. Instead, he raised his fist, clearly ready to strike him once more, but before he could, another crimson soldier stepped forward and grabbed his arm.

"Our job is over," the second soldier said firmly.

"Let him go, Atticus." The man stiffened for a second before slowly lowering his fist with a frustrated huff. Rayne gave him a small smile as he reached for the door.

"I'll remember your name, Atticus," he said quietly.

"And your blows." Before the man could react again, Rayne stepped inside and shut the door behind him. The sudden silence hit him almost immediately, but he barely had time to take a breath before his attention shifted toward the room itself. It was simpler than he had expected. A long wooden table stood near the center with three people already seated behind it. In front of them was a single chair meant for him. There were no decorations, no banners, and no signs of luxury despite the importance of the place.

Just stone walls, shelves filled with scrolls, and a tense stillness hanging in the air. Out of the three seated figures, Rayne recognized one immediately. But before he could even properly process that, another voice suddenly came from the right side of the room.

"So you are Rayne Frayser," a man said with amusement, clear in his tone.

"The hero of the plains." Rayne turned sharply toward the voice. A man leaned casually against the wall with his arms crossed, grinning at him openly. He looked young, probably not much older than Rayne himself. He had blonde hair, a slightly pudgy face, and wore expensive robes of blue and red that immediately marked him as nobility. Still, it was his next words that truly made Rayne freeze.

"I'm Prince Caelan Valeris," the man said with an easy smile.

"It's really nice to finally meet you."

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