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Everywhere, people gather, casting their shadows through the valley of a mountain. There's a palpable tension in the air as they congregate around an execution spot. The crowd buzzes with whispers and shouts, all directed at a single figure standing at the center of the stage. The person, covered from head to toe with a blanket obscuring their face, stands silently as the crowd chants in unison, "Traitor, traitor, traitor." The atmosphere is charged with anger and betrayal.

Soldiers, armed with loaded guns, line up and aim their weapons at the condemned figure. The order to fire is imminent. But just as the command is about to be given, the roar of engines echoes through the valley. A convoy of luxurious cars—VWs, Mercedes, Maybachs—arrives in dramatic fashion. These vehicles, gleaming under the sunlight, bring with them an air of authority and power. Emerging from the cars are soldiers clad in sleek black uniforms, exuding a menacing aura of competence and determination. They are none other than the elite guards of the Royal Family of the Arrayne Kingdom.

The sudden arrival of the royal convoy halts the execution. The crowd's murmurs turn into gasps of surprise and curiosity. The black-uniformed soldiers quickly form a protective perimeter around the execution site, their presence commanding immediate respect and silence from the onlookers. The head of the royal guard steps forward, his authoritative voice cutting through the tension. "Halt this execution immediately!" he commands, his tone brooking no argument.

From one of the luxurious cars, a distinguished figure steps out, his regal bearing unmistakable. It's Alaric's father, Duke Reginald, followed by his mother, Duchess Eleanor. Their faces are a mixture of stern resolve and deep sorrow, but not for the reason Alaric hopes. Behind them, Alaric's uncle and two cousins emerge, their expressions hard and unforgiving.

Duke Reginald approaches the stage with purpose, his eyes filled with a cold fury. "Uncover him," he orders one of the black-uniformed soldiers. The soldier complies, pulling away the blanket to reveal Alaric's face, gaunt and haggard from days of imprisonment. The crowd gasps again, but this time it's with a mix of shock and anticipation.

Duchess Eleanor steps forward, her voice cold and edged with bitterness. "Alaric," she says, "we have come not to save you, but to witness your punishment for the crime you have committed. Your brother's death will not go unavenged."

Alaric, still bound, looks up at his family with a mix of despair and defiance. "Mother, Father, I swear to you, I did not kill him," he pleads, his voice cracking with emotion. But his words fall on deaf ears.

His uncle steps forward, shaking his head. "Save your breath, Alaric. We are here to see justice served. Speak your last words and make peace with your fate."

As the royal family stands in judgment, the crowd falls silent, waiting to hear what Alaric has to say. The black-uniformed guards maintain their vigilant watch, ensuring no one can interfere. Alaric takes a deep breath, his mind racing. Even in this dire moment, he knows that he must find a way to prove his innocence and uncover the true culprits behind his brother's death.

Alaric, his voice trembling, looks up at his family with desperation. "I am just ten years old," he cries out. "How could I kill my brother? This is not true. I didn't kill him. Someone tried to kill me, but in that process, my brother tried to save me. Please, believe me! I didn't do this."

His voice rises, filled with raw emotion. "Please, let Grandfather come first. Please! He will understand me more than you. Why are you doing this to me? Didn't you love me? I used to be the most loved one in the family. Why? Because some people showed you a fake video that I killed my brother, you believe them? You didn't even investigate it? How can you deceive my own father and mother?"

Tears stream down Alaric's face as he pleads for his life. But his parents' faces remain stone-cold, their hearts hardened by the belief that he is guilty. Duke Reginald's eyes flash with anger as he turns to the execution squad. "Enough of this. Proceed with the execution," he orders.

"No!" Alaric's cry pierces the air, but it is too late. In the blink of an eye, three gunshots ring out, echoing through the valley. Alaric feels a searing pain, and his vision blurs. As he collapses to the ground, the world around him fades. His mind drifts back to that fateful night when his brother was killed.

The memory is vivid. It was a dark, moonless night. Alaric and his brother had been traveling with a group of loyal soldiers when the ambush occurred. Arrows flew from the shadows, and chaos erupted. Alaric's brother, the kingdom's heir, shielded him from the attackers, taking a fatal blow meant for Alaric. As he lay dying, he whispered to Alaric, "Stay strong. Survive."

In his final moments, Alaric's brother's face is etched in his memory, a mixture of pain and determination. The image fades as Alaric's consciousness slips away, his mind unable to grasp the injustice of his situation.

As the crowd gasps and murmurs, the black-uniformed soldiers maintain their stoic vigilance. The royal family turns away, their hearts heavy with a mix of anger and sorrow. They believe they have done what was necessary, yet a shadow of doubt lingers in their minds.

Alaric's body lies still on the ground, but his story is far from over. The truth behind the conspiracy, the betrayal. In the shadows, a flicker of hope remains.