Chapter 5 - The Council of Nine
Six days later. Zurich, Switzerland.
The Guildhall of the Black Tower was an ancient, gothic stone building located along the Limmat River in the heart of Zurich’s old town. Built in 1420, its high vaulted ceilings, stained-glass windows, and dark oak paneling had witnessed five centuries of secret treaties, guild wars, and economic alliances.
Inside the central chamber, nine elderly men and women sat behind a curved mahogany bench elevated three feet above the floor. They were the tribunal—representatives of the oldest merchant families in Europe, wearing dark wool robes and heavy silver signet rings.
Sitting on the left side of the floor was the Chong delegation.
At the center sat Old Man Chong—an eighty-two-year-old patriarch with sharp, hawk-like features, sitting in a wheelchair, surrounded by four expensive Swiss corporate lawyers and his nephew, Arthur Chong, a sleek, arrogant thirty-five-year-old man in a bespoke navy suit.
Sitting on the right side of the floor was the Thorne delegation.
Jyn sat in a high-backed leather chair, looking imposing and cold in a charcoal double-breasted suit. Beside him sat Nia, wearing an elegant, high-necked dark emerald dress, her hair pulled back into a sophisticated knot.
Leo was not in the courtroom; he was safely guarded in a private suite upstairs at the Zurich Grand Hotel under the watchful eyes of Greta, three elite guards, and Thor.
The head judge of the tribunal, an elderly French woman named Madame Laurent, struck her wooden gavel against the sound block.
BANG.
"We are convened," Madame Laurent’s voice echoed in French and English throughout the vaulted chamber. "To address the petition filed by Chong Family Holdings regarding the succession rights of the Thorne Maritime Trust. Mr. Chong, state your claim."
Arthur Chong stood up, stepping toward the center podium with a smug, condescending smile.
"Members of the Council," Arthur began, his English impeccable. "Under Article 14 of the 1888 Guild Charter, a primary heir must be proven to be born of a recognized, lawful union, or formally acknowledged through official bloodline registration within twelve months of birth. Jyn Thorne did not register this child. For three years, the boy lived in total obscurity in American suburbia, raised by a common logistics clerk with no aristocratic heritage."
Arthur turned, looking directly at Nia with open disdain.
"We contend," Arthur continued loudly, "that this child was manufactured as a sudden political tool by Jyn Thorne to prevent the scheduled transfer of the Rotterdam shipping berths to the Chong family! The child’s mother is an outsider, the lineage is unverified, and the legal timeframe for succession has expired. We demand the immediate freeze of all Thorne voting stock!"
A low murmur swept through the tribunal judges.
Madame Laurent looked down over her half-moon spectacles at Jyn. "Mr. Thorne. How do you respond?"
Jyn didn't stand up immediately. He slowly adjusted his cuffs, unbuttoned his jacket, and stood with measured, absolute grace.
"I do not respond to lies with words, Madame Laurent," Jyn said calmly. "I respond with evidence."
Jyn nodded toward Julian, his chief legal counsel, who opened a heavy leather binder on the table.
"First," Jyn stated, his voice ringing through the chamber like a silver bell. "Regarding the child’s lineage: a certified, three-way DNA analysis conducted by the University of Zurich Forensic Institute, verified by three independent geneticists appointed by this very tribunal, confirms a 99.998 percent direct paternal match between myself and Leo Santos-Thorne."
Julian handed nine blue-bound folders to the bailiff, who distributed them to the judges.
"Second," Jyn continued, stepping forward toward the center aisle, "regarding the claim that my son’s mother is a 'common logistics clerk' without heritage..." Jyn paused, looking at Nia with an expression of profound pride. "...Nia Santos is the great-granddaughter of Manuel Santos, the former Minister of Maritime Commerce for Lisbon, who signed the 1952 Iberian Trade Accord. Her family's heritage in logistics predates the Chong family's holdings by forty years."
Arthur Chong’s face flushed red. "That is an irrelevant historical technicality!"
"Is it?" Jyn countered, his silver eyes flashing with icy fury. "The 1888 Charter specifically protects the bloodlines of founding treaty signatories. Nia Santos carries more legitimate maritime heritage in her right hand than your entire corporate board possesses in its history."
The judges leaned forward, whispering frantically among themselves, reviewing the documents in their blue folders.
Old Man Chong’s hands tightened on the armrests of his wheelchair. He leaned toward his microphone, his voice raspy and harsh. "You speak of bloodline, Thorne! But what of the registration timeframe?! Article 14 requires official family registration within twelve months! You failed the time requirement! The child is legally barred from succession!"
The room went dead silent.
This was the core legal trap the Chong family had set. Under the rigid, ancient guild rules, missing a registration deadline—even by a day—was absolute grounds for disqualification.
Arthur Chong smiled broadly. "He has no answer! The charter is absolute!"
Nia felt her heart stop. She looked at Jyn, her fingers tightening into fists under the table.
Jyn didn't look defeated. In fact, a small, dark smile appeared at the corner of his lips.
"I did not miss the registration, Mr. Chong," Jyn said softly.
He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out an ancient, yellowed parchment document encased in a protective glass frame.
"Three years ago," Jyn said, stepping up to the judge's bench, "when I returned from Mexico, I knew my family’s enemies were actively monitoring my every move. Had I registered my newborn son in the public guild archives, you would have sent assassins to Chicago before he took his first steps."
Jyn set the glass frame on Madame Laurent’s desk.
"So, under Article 22 of the Secret Seals Act of 1904—an act written specifically to protect guild heirs during times of active syndicate war—I registered my son under a sealed papal trust at the Vatican Secret Archives in Rome, thirty days after his birth."
Madame Laurent gasped. She quickly reached for her magnifying glass, examining the ancient red wax seal and the official Vatican archival stamp on the parchment.
"It is verified," Madame Laurent whispered, her eyes wide with astonishment. "The seal of Cardinal Benetti. Dated November 14, 2023. The child was registered as Leo Jyn Thorne-Santos, primary legal heir to the Thorne Maritime Estate."
Arthur Chong’s jaw dropped. "No... that's impossible! You couldn't have—"
"I could," Jyn interrupted, turning to face Arthur Chong, his voice dropping into a lethal, terrifying whisper. "Because unlike you, Arthur... I think fifteen years ahead of my enemies."
Madame Laurent struck her wooden gavel down with a deafening CRACK!
"The Tribunal has rendered its verdict!" Madame Laurent declared loudly. "The succession claim of Leo Jyn Thorne-Santos is fully verified, absolute, and inviolable under ancient guild law! The Chong petition is dismissed with prejudice!"
She looked sternly at Old Man Chong.
"Furthermore," Madame Laurent added, "for filing a fraudulent claim against a recognized primary heir, Chong Family Holdings is ordered to forfeit twenty percent of its Rotterdam port rights to the Thorne Trust, effective immediately!"
Old Man Chong let out a choked gasping breath, slumping back into his wheelchair, while Arthur Chong collapsed into his seat, his face as pale as a corpse.
In the back row, Nia let out a long, shuddering breath, tears of pure, overwhelming relief welling in her eyes.
Jyn walked back to the table. He didn't look at the defeated Chong family. He looked only at Nia.
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He held out his hand. "Let's go home, Nia."
She took his hand, her fingers weaving through his. "Let's go home."
