The capture of Edrik of the Blood and the decisive victory at Blackspire Valley marked a turning point for the rebellion. The loyalist threat in the north was all but extinguished, and for the first time in months, the rebellion had room to breathe. But with Edrik imprisoned and his forces scattered, a new question loomed over Juri Winkler and the People’s Assembly: what came next?

  The rebellion had won the battle, but Juri knew that the fallout would bring its own challenges. The nobles’ remnants weren’t entirely crushed, foreign powers were watching closely, and the peace he had fought so hard for was still fragile.

  In the aftermath of Blackspire Valley, the People’s Assembly convened at Freehold Keep to decide Edrik’s fate. Representatives from across the rebellion’s territories filled the chamber, their voices rising in heated debate.

  “He’s too dangerous to keep alive,” one representative argued. “As long as he breathes, he’ll inspire the loyalists to keep fighting.”

  “And if we execute him, we turn him into a martyr,” countered another. “The loyalists will claim we’re no better than the nobles we overthrew.”

  Kira stood near the edge of the chamber, her arms crossed. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered to Halrick. “Why are we even debating this? The man’s a snake—cut off his head and be done with it.”

  Halrick shrugged. “Maybe, but Juri’s not the type to rush decisions. He’ll find a way to make this count.”

  At the head of the room, Juri sat in silence, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room as the arguments raged around him. Finally, he raised his hand, and the chamber fell silent.

  “We’re not the nobles,” Juri began, his voice steady but firm. “We don’t rule by fear, and we don’t kill our enemies without cause. Edrik will stand trial, and the world will see that we are different. Justice, not vengeance, will decide his fate.”

  Later that evening, Juri descended into the dungeons of Freehold Keep, where Edrik was being held in a reinforced cell. The self-proclaimed king sat on a bench, his blacksteel armor removed but his presence no less imposing.

  “You came,” Edrik said, his green eyes gleaming with faint amusement. “I was beginning to wonder if the great Juri Winkler would face me himself.”

  Juri stepped closer, his sharp blue eyes cold. “You’ve caused enough destruction, Edrik. It’s over.”

  Edrik smirked. “Is it? You may have won this battle, but you’ve already lost the war. You can’t build a kingdom out of ashes, Winkler. You’ll see that soon enough.”

  Juri ignored the taunt. “Who’s funding you? You don’t have the resources to raise an army on your own.”

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  Edrik’s smirk widened. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Juri leaned closer, his voice low. “I already know. The noble houses that fled during the rebellion—those in hiding across the borders. They’re still pulling strings, aren’t they?”

  Edrik’s expression faltered for a moment before he chuckled. “You’re clever, I’ll give you that. But you’ve already doomed yourself. The kingdoms watching you—they’re not your allies. They’re vultures circling, waiting for the right moment to pick your rebellion apart.”

  The next morning, Juri met with Valeria Eldryn to discuss the implications of Edrik’s capture.

  “He’s stalling,” Juri said, pacing the war room. “He knows we’re closing in on his backers, and he’s trying to buy them time.”

  Valeria nodded. “Our scouts in the western territories have confirmed increased activity near the border. Small bands of soldiers and supply caravans—likely loyalists regrouping or being supported by outside forces.”

  Juri frowned. “If foreign powers are funding the loyalists, we’re walking into a larger conflict than we planned for.”

  Kira entered the room, her expression grim. “And it gets worse. We intercepted a message from Volteria. It’s not an official declaration, but they’re moving troops closer to our borders. Looks like they’re testing the waters.”

  Juri’s sharp blue eyes narrowed. “Leovan won’t act unless he’s provoked. But if we don’t handle this carefully, we’ll give him the excuse he’s looking for.”

  A week later, the trial of Edrik of the Blood began. The People’s Assembly gathered in the central courtyard of Freehold Keep, joined by representatives from nearby territories and even a few foreign observers.

  Edrik was brought before the assembly in chains, his defiance undiminished. He stood tall, addressing the crowd with a booming voice.

  “You call this justice?” he sneered. “You parade me like a trophy, pretending you’re better than the nobles you replaced. But your rebellion is a lie. You’re not building a new world—you’re tearing this one apart.”

  Juri stepped forward, his sharp blue eyes locking onto Edrik. “This isn’t about you, Edrik. It’s about the lives you destroyed and the people you betrayed. You had a choice, and you chose greed and power over your own people. Now, you’ll answer for it.”

  The trial lasted for hours, with witnesses testifying to Edrik’s crimes and loyalist atrocities. Finally, the assembly voted: Edrik was sentenced to life imprisonment, his name stripped of its titles and his legacy erased.

  The trial sent shockwaves across the region. To the rebellion’s supporters, it was a symbol of justice and accountability. To its enemies, it was a warning that the rebellion wouldn’t falter in the face of opposition.

  But in the courts of foreign kingdoms, the trial was viewed with suspicion. Some rulers saw it as a calculated display of power, while others feared it would embolden rebellions within their own borders.

  King Leovan of Volteria summoned his council, his gray eyes hard. “Winkler is consolidating power faster than expected. If we don’t act soon, his rebellion will destabilize the entire region.”

  A general stepped forward. “What are your orders, Your Majesty?”

  Leovan leaned back in his chair, his expression cold. “Prepare the army. We’ll make our move when the time is right.”

  Back at Freehold Keep, Juri stood on the battlements, staring into the horizon. The rebellion had won another victory, but the weight of leadership pressed heavily on his shoulders.

  Kira joined him, her usual sharp demeanor softened. “You did the right thing, you know. With Edrik.”

  Juri nodded slowly. “Maybe. But every decision feels like a gamble. One wrong move, and everything we’ve built could fall apart.”

  Kira smirked faintly. “That’s leadership, Juri. You make the call, and you live with it. The trick is not letting it break you.”

  Juri’s sharp blue eyes remained fixed on the horizon. “I just hope the world we’re building is worth the cost.”