The sudden roar from Rod Reiss froze the chamber.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke. The echo of his outburst still rang through the vaulted hall like a thunderclap.
Moments ago, his panic had seemed like disbelief — a noble overcome by fear at Zeke's impossible claims. But now, that explanation no longer fit.
A few innocent words from a child had shattered his composure completely.
Why would a child's question break him so easily?
The realization crept through the room like smoke.
Eren tilted his head, his voice soft and curious, the picture of childish politeness. "Uncle Rod, is Sister Frieda feeling better now? Father said she was gravely ill, that she might not survive."
Rod's entire body went rigid. "You… you dare say that? It was your father—your father who—!"
He stopped himself just in time, choking on rage and terror.
What was he about to reveal, in front of the court, before the president, the nobles, and the soldiers?
He had nearly spoken the forbidden truth.
Was I tricked?
He stared at Eren, truly seeing him for the first time. But… he's only a child!
Eren blinked innocently. "So Sister Frieda's illness isn't cured yet?"
Rod's heart pounded. Sweat poured down his temples.
He wanted to curse. He wanted to scream. But he could not.
Then the Left Minister, puzzled, turned toward him.
"Yes, Lady Frieda usually attends court. Why isn't she here today, Lord Reiss?"
Don't ask. Don't ask that.
The words screamed inside Rod's head.
She can't come because she's dead!
His throat locked, and the world seemed to tilt.
"Frieda… she's unwell," he managed at last, forcing his trembling voice to steady. "Yes—she caught a minor cold and needs rest. She's a strong girl. She'll recover soon."
The Left Minister nodded, though his gaze lingered too long, a faint smirk curving his lips. Something in Rod's tone had unsettled him.
President Zachary looked from one face to another. "Then the last patient Dr. Grisha Yeager treated… was your daughter, Lord Reiss?"
Rod hesitated, realizing the trap but unable to escape it. "Yes. He examined her, prescribed medicine, and left. He seemed… in a hurry. Said he had an urgent meeting in the capital. Judging from his expression, it must have been someone very important."
As he spoke, his eyes flicked toward the throne — a deliberate, poisonous glance.
The king, who had been silent until then, suddenly stood.
His voice thundered through the court: "Zeke Yeager and his brother have committed treason and murder, spreading dangerous lies! Their influence threatens our order. By royal decree, they are to be executed immediately! Firing squad—prepare!"
The words struck like a blow.
Gasps filled the chamber as the elite First Military Police Brigade Regiment stormed in, rifles raised, surrounding Zeke and Eren in an instant.
"Hey, I'm still here!" Levi snapped, stepping forward, his hand on his sword hilt. "You shoot now, and you'll hit me too!"
Zeke frowned, sensing danger. "So this is how you play it, Your Majesty…"
From the Survey Corps' bench, Commander Keith Shadis's expression darkened. "The First Regiment…?" he muttered. "Those soldiers take orders directly from the crown. Why would the king mobilize them for two captives?"
Even the recruits knew the First Regiment's reputation — the king's hidden hand, the most secretive and fanatically loyal corps within the Military Police Brigade.
"Your Majesty!" Shadis called out. "This is a court of judgment! You cannot—"
"Enough," the king interrupted coldly. "Perhaps executing them here would disturb our proceedings. Take them away instead—escort them to the capital for public execution!"
Confusion rippled through the audience again. The command had shifted in an instant, from chaos to control.
Hange leaned toward Erwin, whispering, "See? You called it. Zeke won't die here."
Erwin's expression remained grim. "No. But being taken by the First Regiment might be worse.
This proves it — the royal government is involved."
As the soldiers began to lead Zeke away, President Zachary rose, his voice firm. "Your Majesty! You forget — this court's verdict must be rendered jointly by the King and the President!"
The king's eyes flashed. "I am the King. My word is the verdict!"
Zachary's jaw tightened. "And yet, Your Majesty, Commander Zeke's accusation was that Karl Fritz's descendants have infiltrated the government. The ministers who support you so fervently—are they not acting suspiciously?"
The ministers froze. Then, as if coordinated, they turned on him in outrage.
"How dare you question His Majesty!" cried the Left Minister. "The king's lineage is Sacred! To accuse us of treason—are you not plotting rebellion?"
Zachary stood unmoved under their fury. "Then tell me—why defend the name of Karl Fritz so desperately? Unless, of course, one of you is his descendant."
The ministers' faces drained of color.
Then, quietly, the king spoke. "Karl Fritz was my great-uncle."
Zachary blinked. "What…?"
The chamber erupted in astonished murmurs.
The Left Minister was the first to recover. "That explains it! Of course His Majesty recognized Zeke's words as lies at once! Karl Fritz was royal blood. To accuse him of treason is to slander the crown itself! Zeke Yeager deserves death for spreading such blasphemy!"
He turned his glare toward the president. "And you, President Zachary—Zeke was held by the Survey Corps before the trial, wasn't he? Perhaps you taught him this rumor yourself, hoping to shake our trust and seize power?"
"You twist the truth," Zachary said coldly.
But the ministers had found their chorus. "You plotted to undermine the throne! You filled Zeke's mouth with lies! The Survey Corps have overstepped for too long — they must be investigated!"
"Investigate the Garrison Corps as well!" another shouted. "They guard the walls — if the Titans broke through, who opened the gate?"
The Garrison officers turned pale. "We—we didn't open anything!"
Across the room, soldiers whispered, nobles argued, and the trial dissolved into chaos once more.
Zachary tried to speak, but the voices drowned him out. In desperation, he turned again to the king.
"Your Majesty, if your great-uncle was Karl Fritz, then surely your royal family tree will confirm it! Let us see the record and settle this."
The king's eyes narrowed. "You would question my bloodline?"
"Your Majesty," Zachary said steadily, "the truth will defend itself."
Zeke smiled faintly from where he stood in chains. "Why not? Check the family tree. You'll see whether Karl Fritz existed a hundred years ago."
The court fell silent. All eyes turned to the throne.
After a long pause, the king's voice came, quiet and deliberate. "Very well. Bring the family registry."
Everyone froze again — even Zachary. He had expected denial, anger, anything but calm acceptance.
The Left Minister rushed forward in alarm. "Your Majesty, no! To display the royal genealogy before common eyes—"
But the king raised a hand. "Enough."
Servants hurried from the chamber to fetch the record from the palace.
To ensure fairness, Zachary dispatched his own men to accompany them.
Whispers filled the silence that followed.
"What a disgrace," muttered one noble. "To make His Majesty prove his own blood."
Hange leaned close to Erwin, her voice low. "Erwin, care to bet whether there's a 'Karl' written in that book?"
Erwin didn't look away from Rod Reiss, who sat pale and trembling in the nobles' row.
"Yes," he said at last. "There will be."