Opening Scene: The Gift Barrage

  I woke up to 1,472 crates.

  Some contained gold. Others: rare spell tomes, enchanted wine, a cannon that shoots silk robes, and a clock that insults you hourly.

  “Peter,” I asked, standing in the middle of the chaos. “What is this?”

  “Gifts, sir.”

  “…Why?”

  “Because you wiped a city off the map and played music during it. Politicians love decisive psychopaths.”

  “I’m not a psychopath.”

  “You served tea mid-bombardment.”

  “…Okay, partial psychopath.”

  Scene: The Messenger Arrives

  The palace doors creaked open as the royal messenger from the Loranic Republic entered. Robes too stiff, spine too straight, and voice already trembling from Darneth’s front gate trauma.

  “By decree of the Senate, I request permission to read the formal charge.”

  “You may,” I replied calmly.

  Peter appeared behind me like a ghost in litigation mode. Michael stood to the side, already annoyed.

  The scroll was unrolled.

  “To Anis Twaggel, former prince, current unrecognized ruler of Darneth: The Republic acknowledges the destruction of the domain formerly ruled by Count Brussel. We hereby condemn your actions as excessive, unregulated, and in violation of Article 14 of the Continental Peace Accord. The death toll surpasses 89,000 lives. Count Brussel was a registered noble. You, however, are not. You will be presented as a suspect, not a sovereign. You are to attend the Summit of Accountability. Bring no army. Bring no threats. Failure to comply will result in unified military sanctions.”

  Peter’s datapad snapped closed. Michael’s grip on his scabbard tightened. Siralyn’s tea turned darker somehow.

  “They’re calling me a perpetrator,” I said softly.

  Peter’s voice sharpened. “They’re trying to rewrite the narrative. From ‘defense against atrocity’ to ‘unlawful escalation.’”

  Michael added, “They want a leash.”

  I stepped forward. “Messenger,” I asked, “has this scroll been sent to other nations?”

  “No… not yet, my lord.”

  “Then let’s fix that.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Peter snapped his fingers. A dozen magic duplicates of the scroll appeared. With another pulse, they teleported.

  “To every attending kingdom,” Peter announced, “so they can read what you called my king.”

  Scene: Twaggel Responds

  That evening, another letter arrived—this one marked with the golden seal of Kingdom Twaggel. A note from the throne of the very land that once exiled me.

  “To the Loranic Republic: We have reviewed the threat issued to Anis Twaggel by Count Brussel. The man’s death was a mercy. His survival, a curse well-earned. Darneth operates independently by royal decree. We will not condemn our own blood. If the Republic wishes to paint justice in hypocrisy— Let it do so without dragging our banners through its mud.”

  Signed: King Vaelric Twaggel.

  My siblings even left notes in the margin:

  Edmarion: “If he dies, I’m blaming you all.”

  Veliryn: “The bones do not lie. He was right.”

  Halvren: “Also, legally, he’s immune to prosecution because of the Exiled Clause in Section—” (cut off by jam stain)

  Scene: Peter Goes Legal Mode

  “Let’s be clear,” Peter said, pacing the war room. “The Republic is scrambling. Public outcry. Refugees testifying. International eyes.”

  “They want to put on a show,” Michael muttered. “Make us kneel.”

  Peter adjusted his glasses. “They have no authority to prosecute you. You are a recognized sovereign by your previous kingdom. You acted in retaliation to a documented war threat and crimes against humanity. They ignored their own laws to protect a noble selling people like livestock. And now they dare call you the villain.”

  I raised a brow. “So what’s our move?”

  Peter’s eyes glinted. “We go. We attend. But I’ll be your lawyer.”

  “…You’re an AI.”

  “A very persuasive AI,” Peter corrected. “I've been compiling data, legal precedents, and witness testimonies. I will argue your case, Anis. We will present them with the unassailable truth.”

  Michael grunted. "And I'll be there to...persuade them further, if necessary."

  Siralyn entered, a glint in her eyes. "I believe I should accompany you as well, my husband. As Queen of Darneth, my presence will lend credence to your sovereignty.” She paused, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Besides, it would be a shame to miss the fireworks."

  I considered them. Peter, with his cold logic and mountains of evidence. Michael, a subtle threat of force. And Siralyn, who radiates barely contained chaos and enjoys watching the world burn.

  "Alright," I said, a grin spreading across my face. "Let's crash this summit."

  Scene: Preparations and Departure

  The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. Peter worked tirelessly, organizing his data and preparing legal arguments. Michael ensured that a heavily armed contingent of Darneth's forces was discreetly positioned near the summit location, "just in case." Siralyn, meanwhile, seemed to be enjoying the preparations a bit too much, selecting her most intimidating outfits and practicing what she called her "disapproving royal stare."

  As we prepared to depart, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. This summit wouldn't just be about defending my actions; it would be a declaration of Darneth's independence and a challenge to the established order of Arth.

  The delegation was small, but formidable. Peter, ever the strategist, had insisted on traveling in an unassuming carriage, magically shielded to prevent any attempts at surveillance or sabotage. Michael rode alongside on horseback, his presence a silent promise of retribution to anyone foolish enough to try anything. And Siralyn...Siralyn rode in a separate, equally shielded carriage, accompanied by a retinue of hand-picked guards and several large, locked chests that hummed faintly with magical energy. When I asked her about the chests, she simply smiled and said, "A Queen must bring gifts, wouldn't you agree?"

  As we left Darneth, I looked back at the city. It was a beacon of defiance, a testament to what could be built from the ashes of despair. And I knew, with a certainty that settled deep in my bones, that we were not just going to a summit. We were going to make history.

  narrator : peter becoming Saul goodman was not on my bucket list