02.56: Judgment
We entered the great hall, which had been hastily turned into a court, and was already full.
Minor nobles clustered behind the crude barricade made of benches. Merchants and town elders stood behind them, pressed shoulder to shoulder, whispering nervously. Curious servants packed any space that remained.
Above them all, the banners watched everything.
The eagle of the Crown, the falcon of the County and the dark forest of the Barony. Royal soldiers stood still underneath them, spears upright and armor polished.
I walked up to the dais and sat down on the opulent seat at the center. Looking around, the late Baron hadn’t spared any expense in decorating the hall, instead of putting it to better use. Reshma sat to my left, placing rolls of parchments on the table next to her.
Eirica sat to my right, face slightly pale but composed.
Grimhart decided to stand behind me, his hand on the pommel of his sword.
Only then did I bother looking at the man standing in the center of the hall.
Grunric was chained at wrists and ankles, clothes dirty. He stood proud, chin high. Eyes burning with arrogance met mine; the fool still convinced that accident of birth somehow made him superior.
The herald struck the butt of his staff on the floor.
“Hear now the court of judgment, convened under the authority of the Count of Nobart! Let all present bear witness.”
The buzz of murmurs died down.
“State the prisoner.”
“Grunric of House Mondgrove, kinsman to the late Baron.”
Reshma rose slowly and unrolled a parchment.
“Grunric of House Mondgrove stands accused of conspiracy to subvert lawful succession, to seize the barony’s seat by force. Attempted murder of the lawful claimant. Murder of children and abuse of those under his protection.”
Grunric laughed once.
“Lies! Fabricated to steal my god-given right. This man will be the death of us all if you do not oppose him! His so-called stewardship councils are nothing but a ploy to snatch away the nobility’s rights. Today it is me. Tomorrow it will be you!”
I kept my face neutral. He wasn’t entirely wrong.
“If you are done with your tirade, you may answer the charges.”
“Your fabricated ‘fingerprint’ method is nothing but a ruse. A trick!”
I lifted a leather pouch from the table and took out a dagger from it. The blade glinted as it caught sunlight filtering from the high windows.
“Your fingerprints are embossed in the blood of an infant on this very hilt They were shown to each and every noble present here this morning. I myself demonstrated to them how each and every person has unique prints. Does anyone here dispute what they saw?”
Only silence answered.
Whether they believed my explanation or not, the nobles had the sense to keep their mouths shut.
“The late Baron’s two mistresses testified in tears that you murdered the children they had with him. We have testimonies of more than a dozen people and plenty of evidence proving it. Where did the children go, Grunric?”
“How should I know?” he said, glowering at me.
“Dowager Mondgrove,” I gestured to Eirica, “was found fleeing from this city by my soldiers, scared as if death itself was chasing her. The men who were trying to catch her were yours. Do you deny it?”
No sound left him. Everyone knew they served him. Lying would only entrap him further.
“This trial is nothing but a ploy to take away my right of regency and to give it to your mistress!” he barked, pointing to her.
I exhaled.
“Am I taking away the nobility’s rights or giving them to the Dowager? Which is it?”
When he had nothing to say in return, Reshma lifted a parchment.
“Testimony from the stable groom. He received coin to saddle warhorses for armed riders the same night the Dowager fled the city.”
She lifted another parchment.
“Account of his own steward, showing one hundred gold coins disbursed for ‘miscellaneous’ tasks.”
Grunric’s jaw tightened.
“You think anyone here is clean!” He roared, pointing to the crowd. “Half the men here kissed my hand when they thought I would rule! One even threw his daughter at me, just to gain my favor.”
Several nobles recoiled, unable to mask their fear.
I rose.
“This trial is about you, not them. You plunged an already destabilized barony into further chaos in your pursuit of power. That will not be allowed to happen again.”
He spat at my feet.
Armor clinked. Spear points lowered.
I raised a hand to still them.
“You held rank, a privilege and an obligation. You abused the former and forgot about the latter part.”
I turned to look at Eirica and Reshma.
Both of them nodded.
“Based upon the corroborated testimonies and collected evidence, this court finds Grunric Mondgrove guilty of attempt to subvert lawful succession, murder of children and crimes against those under his protection. For your crimes, you are sentenced to death by beheading.”
The hall inhaled as one.
“All your wealth, movable and immovable, is forfeit.”
Murmurs began, but were cut off as I continued.
“All men sworn to you will lay down their arms by nightfall and subject themselves to examination or… they will be branded criminals. Those who were coerced will be spared. Those proven complicit will stand trial.”
Faces in the crowd began looking around in calculation.
Men measured distance to exits and witnesses.
Grunric lunged for me with a roar.
My hand went to my sword, but the bear of a guard behind him was fast. He slammed Grunric to his knees.
The crack of bone on stone echoed, but was drowned by his voice.
“You cannot do this! I am a noble!”
I looked down at him.
“The law does not care.”
The guard dragged him away as he screamed curses at me.
As the doors closed behind him, silence spread through the hall like a wave.
After a break, trials were held for Grunric’s two lackeys.
Neither of them had been shy when it came to stealing others’ money and dignity, so there were plenty of testimonies and evidence to convict them.
Both were condemned to death before the sky had turned red.
Nobody protested.
An hour later, Reshma found me swinging a heavy sword in the torch lit courtyard, under the guidance of Sir Hagen.
“What are you doing… my lord?” she asked.
“Practicing.”
Her face paled.
“You intend to do it yourself?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to. They have an executioner.”
“I know, but I pronounced the sentence. His death is my responsibility.”
She exhaled.
Seeing how I would not be deterred, she nodded in acceptance. She remained there, motionless until I was done.
The next morning, we gathered in the wine cellar.
Two lanterns illuminated the small, dark room.
Only six people were present.
I rolled the sleeves of the simple shirt I was wearing and checked the heavy unadorned sword one last time, its recently sharpened edge catching the golden light of the lanterns.
A weapon made for only one task.
Two stout soldiers arrived, dragging Grunric between them.
His eyes found the blade.
“Kneel,” I said, pointing to the wooden block.
His legs froze as his mind finally realized there would be no escape. Fear surged in his eyes.
The soldiers pushed him to his knees.
“Wait! We can come to an agreement!” he begged.
They pushed his head down.
I looked at his neck, pale against the dark wood.
My pulse picked up pace.
What was I afraid of?
Botching it?
No. My strength blessing meant the sword would behead him in a single stroke.
Hesitating?
Doubtful. He deliberately chose to be cruel to innocents. The world would be better without him.
There it was.
One slip into the pit of self-righteousness and I could become just as cruel as him. Not to infants, and not for petty reasons, but still.
“Any last words?” I asked, hefting the sword.
He turned to face me. “You think killing me will fix anything?”
“Not everything. But it is a start.”
Stepping next to him, I set my stance. Hips aligned, shoulders loose.
Accepting his fate, he closed his eyes.
I raised the sword and brought it down.
The crack of steel cutting flesh and bone echoed.
Blood splattered on the well-worn stone floor.
Just like that, a life was extinguished.
I squeezed the hilt of the sword to still my trembling hands.
“Burn his body somewhere. Leave no marker.”
Grimhart nodded.
The executioner took care of the other two.
By midday, three heads adorned spearheads atop the castle’s gatehouse.
“Make sure they are displayed in every part of the city,” I told Wolfram.
I wanted to leave for Falkenheim the very same day, but interrogating Grunric’s men took the rest of the day, and the next one.
I would have torn my hair out of impatience if something good hadn’t come out of it. We found out he had a hidden source of money.
That evening, rain splattered against the thin windows of the meeting chamber as I forced myself to sit still. A young man was brought in front of me; mid-twenties, messy brown hair and scared eyes looking everywhere but at me. Thin and short, like most peasants. The smell of sweat, fear and something else clung to his shabby clothes.
The smell of progress.
“What is your name?”
“Rowan, milord.”
“You have been secretly brewing spirits for Grunric?”
He fell to his knees, his head hitting the ground. “Mercy, milord! I promise I won’t do it again!”
“Sit on that chair.”
He remained on the floor.
The guards hauled him up and flopped him on the chair.
“This is your product?” I pushed a cup next to him.
He sniffed before answering. “Ye—yes.”
“Who taught you?”
“N—no one. My ma became an alewife after my pa passed away. I learned from her.”
“She knew how to distill the spirit out of ale?”
He shook his head. “I was just horsin’ around and made some by accident.”
I took a sip. Strong and clean.
“It’s not bad. You refined the distillation process all by yourself?”
“Ma was sick and I needed coin to pay for medicine.”
Turned to the risky path of innovation in time of need. A true talent.
“That’s when Grunric found you?”
He nodded meekly.
“You should count your lucky stars you found a patron before the brewers’ guild caught onto you. Do you have any family?”
“An uncle.”
“Your mother?”
“She… didn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry. You’re close with your uncle?”
He shook his head.
“Would you like to come with me, away from this place? I will provide you with double the salary, and you won’t have to live alone in the hills.”
His eyes avoided mine.
“There’s no catch,” I said gently. “I just need a brewer of my own. Someone talented.”
He still wouldn’t meet my gaze.
“The guilds are not known to be merciful to those who encroach on their turf. You ought to know that.”
He forced himself to look at me, fearful eyes with a trace of hope in them.
A confident nod.
“Good. I’ll send men to fetch your equipment. Sell the rest. You have one day. And here,” I slid a gold coin towards him. “Get yourself some clothes.”
My good mood at finding a potential chemist got ruined when Reshma told me we still couldn’t leave.
“How long will it take?” I asked in exasperation.
“Most of the functionaries are corrupt,” she said, squeezing my hand. “The collected evidence implicated some of them, but I’m sure we’ve missed many.”
“Won’t Eirica know about them?”
“She wasn’t involved in running the barony. If we leave now, they could usurp power from her. All they have to do is kidnap her child and she will be at their mercy.”
“Even after we paraded Grunric’s head through the streets?”
“Fear unifies. They might be even more dangerous now.”
I thought for some time.
“I’ll leave the Falkenheim soldiers behind for her safety. That, with her sweeping powers, will give her four months to build her own power base.”
She studied me for some time. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
We spent the next day interviewing men for an interim council to support Eirica.
On the next, we officially established it.
By afternoon, we had wrapped everything up.
Gray skies promised rain, but my patience had worn thin. I could not wait any longer.
I told Grimhart and Moore to prepare for departure.
To the west, Chadom waited.
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