Chapter 7 - The Grand Plaza Showdown
The grand plaza was packed to the absolute bursting point. Fifty thousand citizens stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their breath pluming in the crisp morning air, their eyes fixed on the towering wooden scaffold erected at the center.
King Valen—pale and unsteady, leaning heavily on his chief advisor—sat upon the elevated temporary throne, trying to project an air of absolute authority.
"Bring forth the prisoner!" the herald commanded.
The heavy iron portcullis at the end of the plaza rattled open. But instead of a broken, trembling boy dragged in chains, Julian walked out into the sunlight with his head held high, flanked not by guards, but by the colossal, armored beast.
A collective gasp echoed across the plaza.
Valen leaped to his feet, his face twisting in rage and panic. "Archers!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "Kill them! Kill them both right now!"
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Before a single arrow could be notched, the ground beneath the plaza began to tremble violently. From every side street and alleyway, thousands of common citizens poured into the square, led by Marcus and the underground resistance, armed with hammers, scythes, and stolen pikes. They surrounded the royal guards, cutting off their escape routes in an instant.
The king’s army was trapped, outnumbered, and paralyzed by awe.
