Those that saw the look on his face trembled. It had only been there for a moment but the effects were set. Was this a sign of things to come?

Yet those that didn’t see were completely oblivious.

Dragged out of the carriage without a care he soon loses his footing and falls off the carriage. Bruises cover his soft fair skin and he grins terribly to this predicament. My, how the tables have turned.

Even though he's met with such cruelty he is somehow optimistic about one thing, that familiar voice he heard unknowing where it even came from and why he’s hearing it only now.

Sadly, he hasn't been able to hear where it came from and the magical ropes that are tying his hands prevent him from using magic.

Optimism fuels his calmness to the cruelty he now faces. But something else lurks underneath…

The guards around him are unchanging. They watch his every move and follow him with their weapons. Each of them ready for anything.

They drag him past the large doors of the castle and present him to the king and his nobles with lady Moore in toll.

They bow down to royalty.

Renol and the 2 girls blend in with the guards as lady Moore’s demeaner shadows over their existence.

Roz’s little head is shoved down forcing him to bow down.

Each of the nobles look down on him with smug looks on their faces. Only the king and one other maintain their serious demeanor and only one shows signs of worry. Lord Mo Ron looks like as if he's about to run away from the hall.

"My king, i present to you the Red Witch," Lady Moore’s voice fills the large hall, "…and in that box lays the Royal Sceptre."

"Royal Sceptre!? Well, that makes sense." Roz thinks to himself.

"I did what i had to," says Rayer in his mind.

“I am not judging.”

"I-is she restrained enough?" lord Mo Ron questions the guards who are restraining Roz.

“Yes, my lord, she is tied with magic rope that drains her magic and prevents casting,” he asserts, “every mage knows of this rope and how powerful it is.”

“G-good!”

The room went quiet for a moment.

The Royal guards take the box and present it to the king. He looks over it and signals one of the Royal mages to appraise it.

The Royal mage bows and turns to the Sceptre. He holds out his hands and soon blue magical rings of light appear right in front of his hands. They are inscribed with ruins along the rings and they turn as he chants.

Soon the sceptre glows in an equally blue hue as soon as he finishes chanting. He turns back to look at the king and nodes.

The king picks up the sceptre and inspects it closely.

As everyone is looking at their king only one lord looks the other way at Roz, keenly. He secretly uses appraisal magic on him but seems displeased by it.

“Rayer Royale…” the king breaks the silence, “what drove you to commit the crimes you did…? Why did you steal from the palace?”

Everyone was now looking at Roz. This is a trial.

Rayer had expected this to happen at some point and though she was prepared for the consequences should she be judged by the kingdom, she had assumed that she would be long dead before that would happen.

She was scared.

Was this a mere stage fright? A fear of another death sentence? Life imprisonment? Slavery? One could only speculate as Roz was only able to perceive her thoughts now through her trembling body. It can be said that he felt her every emotion and she was deeply afraid.

Lady Moore, a powerful mage, was right next to her. Countless higher lever mages lined up across the royal hall. This was nothing compared to the prison ground.

Running through her thoughts she could only mutter senseless words, “i-i..” as she tried to speak the words themselves could not come out. Correction she could not speak. Not only because of the fear but she literally could not speak through her own mouth.

Only Roz, the current dominant host of her body could freely and fully use it to his will. She was in actual fact trapped inside her own body.

“Huhhh…” Roz sighed…

His gaze swept across the hall before landing back on the king, “so… what will happen to me?” tired and frustrated, he spared no pleasantries.

Ignored, the king looked somewhat infuriated by this, but he held his composure. The same though could not be said by his subordinates.

A guard to his rear kicked him from behind and he fell to the ground, “have you no respect, woman!” yelled some of the lords, Infuriated.

“Leave her be,” said the king, “let her speak. Have you nothing to say, Rayer?” he rested his head on the palm of his hand and waited for a response.

Rayer, in this case Roz, slowly rose up to his knees and genuinely smiled, “we all do what we must… and sometimes it’s just not the right thing.” He said these words in a gentle and soft tone but the room fell silent.

The royal hall was a massive place but as of now if felt small. So small that it was hard to breathe. The pressure exerted by those simple words was unrelated so what was this? What is going on?

The king swallowed.

Lady Moore quickly turned back to see if Rayer had cast some kind of a spell on the room but her hands were still tied. So, what is this? And finally turning to looking at her face revealed the answer.

The smile. That gentle smile was bitter.

Lady Moore could not understand why she felt such an intense pressure from a mage several levels below her.

Is this not Rayer?

The Royal mages and the guards were terrified.

“ROZA….” That familiar voice resonated in full. He knew exactly where it was coming from. Right below him. Right below the castle.

He could not see the one speaking through his mind but he felt the raging emotions buried beneath the castle. He knew even without seeing that his brethren was enslaved.

The turmoil of this revelation unhinged his mind and drove it to a momentarily fit of rage.

“What have you done?”

Lady Moore quickly realized that something was wrong. She knew that if she did not act quickly, it would be too late.

Roz peered deep into the ground and sensed the magic beneath. The ropes on his hands prevent him from doing so but ever so slightly.

He focused. He needed to see for himself what has become of his friend at the hands of these people. He needed to see.

Veins slowly appeared at the edges of his eyes.

While he was distracted Lady Moore leapt out to attack and so did Renol, and the guards, and the royal mages.

Time seemed to slow down as he concentrated on the magic beneath.

Several layers of repulsive magic prevented him from seeing beneath them and a recoil repelled his sight giving him an intense headache.

He shook his head and looked away. Only then did he realize their attack.

Lady Moore’s fist connected.

He barely had time to guard so his hand was sacrificed. It was numb, unusable. The sheer difference in power was evident.

He needed to distance himself from her but soon he felt a sharp pain in his stomach before he could move. He coughed up blood and staggered back trying to breathe.

His attacker quickly jumped back away from him as a barrage of spells rained down on him from above.

He barely hard time to react to anything.

Half of his body was now unusable. There was no way to win this.

“Why? Why must I always be this weak?” his weakness was all he could think about as his frustration grew.

He stood amidst the hall bleeding from his head, cuts and bruises scattered on his hands and legs, his red dress dirtied and scorched.

He was weak. He could only watch as the mages fired another wave of attacks. He had lost this battle and now faced with the imminent loss of his life he simply smiled in bitter pain and look down in defeat.

Then…

“INCREASE.”

The reverberation of this voice shot through his mind. A resurgent of power coursed through his veins.

It was raw power… and it was ripping him apart.

Blinding pain crippled him to his knees and with a faint laugh and a bloody grin, his smile was genuinely bitter.

“So this is what it feels like to be incompatible with a raging power?”