Chapter 98 - The Gilded Assembly
The lift ascended through thirty feet of solid rock before shuddering to a halt behind an ornate tapestry of the Last Judgment. Through the heavy gold weave, the sound of formal debate and gavel strikes drifted into the small wooden enclosure.
The Chapter Hall of St. Gallen was magnificent. Lofty ribbed vaults arched seventy feet overhead, illuminated by immense stained-glass windows catching the first pale rays of the winter sun. Below, seated along semicircular mahogany tiers, were fifty of Europe's most powerful sovereign arbiters, high judges, and private bankers.
At the center of the marble floor, flanked by six high-priced corporate barristers, stood Duchess Margaret Arnault herself. She wore a tailored black wool coat with an ermine collar, her silver hair pulled back into an immaculate chignon, holding a pen above the final liquidation decree.
"With the claimant dead or in flight, and no valid legitimate heir presented before the court," the chief arbiter declared in a droning voice, "we hereby order the forfeiture of all Vane sovereign holdings, their assets to be merged irrevocably into the Arnault Regency Trust."
Margaret Arnault smiled—a thin, predator's smirk—and lowered her pen toward the parchment.
"Object!" my voice shattered the sacred silence like a thunderclap.
I threw aside the tapestry and stepped out onto the marble floor.
Gasps rippled across the assembly. Security guards reached instinctively for their holsters, but the High Bailiff of the court immediately slammed his iron mace onto the flagstones. "Hold! In this sanctuary, blood may not be drawn! All weapons remain holstered under pain of excommunication and sovereign arrest!"
Margaret Arnault froze, the pen hovering an inch above the paper. Her calculating eyes snapped to mine, widening with a mixture of fury and disbelieving shock as she saw the blood on my face, the titanium cylinder in my hands, and Evelyn and Clara stepping into the light behind me, carrying the two living infants.
"Julian Vane," she hissed, her voice low and venomous. "You are an outlaw. You have no standing here."
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"I have the only standing that matters, Margaret," I said, walking slowly down the central aisle toward the high bench.
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