Chapter 7 - The Servant's Testimony
Dawn’s pale light filtered through the towering stained-glass windows of the Great Hall of Eldoria.
Every seat on the three-tiered amphitheater was occupied by the kingdom’s most powerful nobles and judges.
Whispers of the midnight battle in the tombs had spread like wildfire throughout the capital city.
Outside the palace walls, tens of thousands of common citizens had gathered, demanding justice for the maid.
Their roars of "Queen Ella! Queen Ella!" penetrated the thick stone walls, rattling the stained glass.
At the center of the marble floor stood Lady Beatrice, her hands bound tightly in heavy iron chains.
Her silver-blonde hair was disheveled, her purple velvet gown torn and stained with subterranean mud.
Gone was the haughty matriarch who had ruled the realm with an iron fist for two bloody decades.
Beside the throne stood Prince Adrian, wearing his full midnight-blue royal uniform and polished breastplate.
Beside him, standing upon the royal dais, was Ella.
She still wore her faded blue dress and off-white apron, refusing the luxurious silks offered to her.
She wanted every noble lord and lady to see exactly who they had forced to clean their palace for twenty years.
Upon her left foot gleamed the glass slipper, untouched by dirt, radiating its quiet, celestial light.
Lord Chancellor Malakar, an elderly man with a long white beard, struck his golden gavel upon the table.
"The High Council of Eldoria is now in emergency session," Malakar announced, his voice booming.
"We stand assembled to judge accusations of high treason, royal murder, and the stolen throne."
Malakar turned his piercing gaze toward Beatrice, whose eyes remained fixed venomously on the floor.
"Lady Beatrice of House Valmont, you stand accused of murdering Queen Eleanor and attempting regicide."
"These accusations are lies fabricated by a traitorous prince and a kitchen wench!" Beatrice spat.
"Then let the Blood Codex speak for itself!" Adrian declared, stepping forward to the edge of the platform.
Captain Nathan carried the silver-bound tome forward, placing it upon the chancellor's golden lectern.
Malakar adjusted his spectacles, his trembling hands turning the ancient, enchanted vellum pages.
The entire assembly held its breath as the chancellor read the ancient seals and royal signatures.
"The seal of Queen Eleanor is authentic and unbroken," Malakar announced, looking up in sheer awe.
"The lineage parchment confirms that the child born with the crescent mark is Princess Aurelia Eleanor."
The noble lords broke into frantic murmurs, looking at Ella with newfound reverence and deep terror.
The emerald-clad noblewoman who had insulted Ella in the ballroom buried her face in her hands, weeping.
"That is not enough!" Beatrice screamed, rattling her iron chains against each other in desperation.
"A book can be stolen! The mark can be branded! She is a common servant who knows nothing of our blood!"
Ella stepped down from the royal dais, her plain brown shoe and the glass slipper echoing together.
She walked into the center of the hall, stopping only two paces away from the chained matriarch.
"You say I am only a servant, Beatrice," Ella spoke, her voice clear, calm, and resonant.
"You are right. I am a servant."
The High Council fell completely silent, stunned by the young woman’s unexpected confession.
"For twenty years, I have served this kingdom from its darkest and most painful corners," Ella continued.
"I know how much a bushel of grain costs because I watched the kitchen staff weep when the tax rose."
"I know the cold of the winter frost because you refused to buy firewood for the servant quarters."
"I know the names of the guards who died at the border because I washed the blood from their uniforms."
She turned slowly, addressing the hundreds of wealthy lords who sat comfortably in their cushioned velvet seats.
"None of you know the kingdom you rule. You only know its gold, its wine, and its flattering masks."
"You sat in the ballroom last night and laughed at my torn clothes and my scarred hands."
"You thought that because I had nothing, I was worth nothing."
Ella turned back to Beatrice, her hazel eyes burning with the unquenchable fire of true nobility.
"A true monarch does not rule from above the people in golden cages and stolen diamonds," Ella said.
"A true monarch serves them, bleeds with them, and carries their suffering upon her own shoulders."
"I am the daughter of Queen Eleanor, not because of this glass shoe, but because I survived your malice."
A deafening silence enveloped the Great Hall as the profound truth of her words shattered the court's arrogance.
Then, from the back of the council benches, an old duke rose to his feet and began to applaud slowly.
Another lord stood, then another, until the entire High Council was on its feet, thundering their applause.
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Even the proudest nobles bowed their heads in shame and reverence before the maid who would be queen.
Beatrice collapsed onto her knees upon the cold marble, broken, utterly disgraced, and completely defeated.
