CHAPTER 557: AT LEAST YOU’D BELIEVE THE WORDS OF YOUR PRINCESS

The moment those words left Liam’s mouth, the atmosphere in the courtroom shifted—first into stunned silence, then into a slow, simmering disbelief that rippled outward from the nobles seated closest to the throne. King Valemir’s expression tightened almost instantly, confusion flickering only briefly before irritation swallowed it. His brows drew together, and his cold blue eyes narrowed as though he were staring at something offensive rather than a boy standing before him. That irritation seemed to deepen the longer he looked at Liam, as if every second of the boy’s unwavering calm added fuel to a fire already struggling to stay contained inside the king’s chest.

After a drawn-out, heavy moment, Valemir finally spoke, his tone carrying a sharpness meant to cut.

"Choosing to speak falsehoods before a king," he said, each word deliberate, "is something that can place a man in a very bizarre and unfortunate situation... and you, Liam Hunter, find yourself leaning dangerously close to that very edge."

A few nobles nodded smugly. Others whispered behind gloved hands. The disdain in the room thickened.

Valemir continued, his voice rising slightly as he leaned back in his throne.

"Last I remember, the person responsible for my daughter’s protection was Sir Magnus Yaer—who, despite his skill, still failed to prevent Sheila from falling into Sylvathar’s grasp." His lip curled as he went on, bitterness slipping into his tone. "A failure made possible due to Eliv Borges—a man we believed loyal!—who revealed himself to be an imposter serving Sylvathar. Betrayal from within."

He gestured dismissively toward Liam with a flick of his hand.

"That being said... how, exactly, were you responsible for Sheila’s safety when you were nowhere near her during that time?" His voice dripped with accusation. "Therefore, your claim is nothing but a lie spoken before the Crescent throne and all who are present."

Murmurs rose again, louder this time, the audience emboldened by the king’s certainty. Some shook their heads, already convinced of Liam’s guilt. Others smirked as though they had always expected the dark mage to embarrass himself publicly.

Liam waited. Not because he hesitated, but because he understood the weight of decorum.

Then he lifted his head slightly. "Your Majesty," he said, requesting permission without a single unnecessary word.

Valemir exhaled harshly and waved a hand. "Speak."

Liam inclined his head softly in acknowledgment, then straightened and addressed the hall with a calmness that seemed to silence the rising whispers on its own.

"You are correct, King Valemir," Liam began, his voice steady and clear. "Sir Magnus Yaer was indeed the one charged with protecting Princess Sheila at that time." He allowed a brief pause, ensuring no one could claim he was disrespecting the knight’s assignment. "However... before Sir Magnus ever had the opportunity to intervene, it was my actions alone that ensured Sheila never fell into the hands of the enemy."

A few nobles shifted uncomfortably at how matter-of-factly Liam stated it.

He continued without faltering. "Those enemies were Lady Ember Everest and Assistant Headmaster Gordon Rvack—both from the Dark Knight Academy—who intended to take her long before the war officially began. Because of my interference, their plan failed. Their capture of the princess was delayed. And the war itself was postponed for weeks from the enemy’s original timeline."

The murmurs grew sharper now, though no longer entirely dismissive. People whispered names they recognized. Ember Everest and Gordon Rvack. Traitors. Dangerous figures. Liam’s poise only made the hall grow more attentive.

"If not for my actions," Liam went on, "Princess Sheila would have been taken before anyone in Tempest or Crescent even suspected foul play. In doing so, I disrupted Sylvathar’s plans, hindered his initial siege, and placed my own life in grave danger. Had things gone differently then... I would have died."

Several gasps scattered across the hall, though many still looked unconvinced, as though refusing to believe a dark mage’s sacrifice could ever be placed in the same sentence as the protection of their princess.

Liam’s eyes drifted toward the king again.

"I am aware," he said calmly, "of how unbelievable my words may sound to you and to your people. I know that many here will not trust what I say. Especially not you, Your Majesty."

The king’s jaw tightened.

"But if none of you are willing to believe me," Liam continued, his tone subtly shifting, "then perhaps you will trust the words of the one person whose life was directly affected."

He let those words linger just long enough for the hall to sense where he was going.

Then Liam turned his head slightly, directing the full focus of the room with him.

Every gaze followed.

Princess Sheila Granger froze—not visibly, but enough that Liam, watching her carefully, noticed the slight widening of her eyes. She stiffened subtly under the weight of the sudden attention, her hands tightening on her lap. Liam held her gaze steadily, something quiet and unspoken moving behind his eyes, urging her to remember what she already knew.

And she did not look away.

That tiny detail did not escape Valemir.

The king’s irritation evaporated into something much hotter and more volatile—anger that flared so sharply it was visible in the tightening of his grip on the armrest of his throne.

Slowly, he turned toward his daughter.

"Sheila," Valemir said, his voice dangerously low and strained, "is what this dark mage claims... the truth?"

The entire courtroom held its breath.

The moment Liam first mentioned he had performed a good deed for the Crescent Kingdom, Sheila had tilted her head slightly, her brows narrowing in quiet confusion. She searched her memory with increasing urgency, trying to match his claim with any event she could recall, yet nothing came to mind. And when he followed those words by stating that he had ensured her safety... her confusion deepened even further, swirling inside her like a fog she couldn’t disperse fast enough.

But then Liam spoke a name she hadn’t expected to hear in this hall, let alone tied to a claim so bold.

Lady Ember Everest, her former ice-affinity instructor at the Dark Knight Academy.

The moment he said it, something cracked open in Sheila’s mind. Memories poured out in vivid pieces—scenes, faces, moments—some small and innocent, others oddly tense, all now returning with a new clarity she hadn’t possessed before.

She remembered how Lady Ember, on more than one occasion, had approached her with a soft yet insistent tone, asking her to accompany her somewhere for reasons she never fully explained. Sheila, young and eager to please her instructor, had never questioned it. She had always assumed Lady Ember simply needed assistance with something trivial or sought her presence for training-related matters.

But every time Sheila consented and began following after her instructor... something always interrupted.

Dylan would show up out of nowhere, flailing his arms with some ridiculous excuse—claiming she had to help him find his lost assignments, or that Ariana was in need of help from bullies, or that Asher was about to punch someone who insulted the shade of his flame. Charlotte herself had dragged Sheila away at least twice, also giving excuses only she could give.

Even Asher, competitive and never one to meddle without reason, had once blocked Sheila’s path with his usual scowl, muttering that she was "needed elsewhere."

Back then, Sheila had chalked all of it up to her friends being... well, her friends—chaotic, protective, and sometimes annoyingly persistent.

But now, standing in the grand hall of the Crescent Kingdom’s palace with Liam’s steady gaze fixed on her, those scattered memories aligned into a single, startling shape.

She remembered the day she had confronted Dylan, exasperated after the fifth interruption. She had asked him—half joking, half frustrated—why he kept dragging her away every time she tried to help Lady Ember. Dylan had scratched his cheek awkwardly, then shrugged with that lazy grin of his.

"I dunno. Liam asked me to," he had said. "Didn’t tell me why. Didn’t care to ask. My only guess? Maybe he’s got a crush on ya."

That offhand remark had turned her face crimson. She’d spent weeks afterward thinking about it, flustered and unable to look Liam directly in the eye without remembering Dylan’s teasing.

But now...

Now she understood how wrong her assumption had been.

Liam hadn’t been acting out of some shy affection. He had been protecting her—quietly, indirectly, but desperately. He had used their friends as a subtle shield, guiding her away from Lady Ember, who—now fitting perfectly into Liam’s explanation—had likely been waiting to hand her over to Sylvathar long before the war had begun.

And if Dylan, Charlotte, and Asher had been intercepting her at Liam’s request, then Liam himself had been doing far more behind the scenes than she ever realized.

He had been running interference. Distracting danger. Altering outcomes.

Placing himself at risk without her knowing a thing.

The realization struck Sheila deeply.

There had been a moment—maybe several—where she could have already been in Sylvathar’s clutches, long before her official capture. Had that happened, she would never have returned. Her life, her freedom, the very person she still was today... none of it would have belonged to her.

Liam’s words, his gaze, the weight behind his tone—all of it clicked together.

Sheila’s confusion slowly melted into understanding, then into something firm and resolute.

He wasn’t looking at her just to confirm his story.

He was looking at her because she was the missing piece.

The only one who could confirm what the Crescent Kingdom refused to see.

And she understood her role now.

Even if it meant going against her kingdom’s rigid standards.

Even if it meant standing up for a dark mage before nobles who despised him.

Even if it meant contradicting her own father—the king.

Sheila inhaled quietly, rose to sit straighter, and composed herself with regal poise. When she finally spoke, her voice carried through the silent hall with calm confidence.

"As the princess of the Great Crescent Kingdom," she began, ensuring everyone heard her clearly, "it is only right that I speak truth when truth is required. And that... is what I shall do at this very moment."

The hall seemed to lean in as she continued.

"Liam Hunter speaks the truth," she declared firmly. "If it were not for his decisive thinking, his actions, and the personal risks he took upon himself... I would not be standing here today."

She did not waver. She did not look away.

And for the first time since Liam entered the hall, the entire chamber fell utterly, completely still.