Chapter Twelve

A large smile had snaked its way onto Sir Veran’s face, and was met with a look of terror and dismay on the face of Lord Eric Grine. “Surely this will not be allowed, sire. I have presented you with unmistakable evidence against Sir Veran, and he has admitted to being with my daughter the night she was murdered! I do not wish to be subject to trial by combat,” Lord Eric squeaked out.

Sir Veran was forty years younger than the old lord and had been nicknamed The Butcher for obvious reasons. He was already one of the most feared men in the Vint, and Lord Grine new that he was no match for this knight, no matter how young and seemingly inexperienced he proved to be.

“Then you must withdraw your claim against him, Lord Eric. I rather like this Panthosi law,” he said, turning to Narris. “Perhaps we will have a sit down, you and I, and talk about some of the more interesting aspects of your kingdom.”

“Sire, I beg of you to show the King’s justice!” Lord Eric barely choked the words out.

“Enough of your blubbering, you fool of a Lord! Withdraw your claim against Sir Veran or take him up in arms and show the world that he is truly without honor.” The King’s face was writ with impish delight. “Or are you too craven to defend the honor of your slain daughter?”

Narris knew what was about to happen but was powerless to stop it. In Panthos, no man would ever bring such dishonor upon himself by stealing a woman’s maidenhood, much less by murdering her in cold blood. It would not stand, and because of that, the law was different in Panthos, much different than it was in this forsaken land where they called themselves civilized people.

Lord Eric Grine took a solemn look on his face as he drew out his longsword. The crowd of people took a few steps back as he circled around Sir Veran. At first, it looked as though the knight would not take up arms against the old man. He only stood there, leering at him with impunity, telling him with his eyes that the charges against him were true. Then Lord Eric Grine spoke.

“Sir Veran Meyser, I judge you under watch of the gods for the rape and murder of my daughter. I demand you draw your sword and defend your honor!” His voice changed from the feeble squeaks of earlier, and he all but roared at the knight.

Sir Veran only shrugged and pulled out his longsword. “To the crows then, my Lord,” he said with a mocking bow.

And immediately the Lord was upon him. Blow after blow, Sir Veran managed to check and spin away from, but Lord Grine was relentless in his onslaught. It was almost the exact opposite of what Narris had expected. Perhaps justice would prevail today, Narris thought. Lord Eric kept up attack after attack, backing Sir Veran close to the crowd, and forcing him to parry away with a sidestep to avoid tripping over some gawky onlooker. Sir Veran had his back against the wall, barely escaping a blow before another would land just as he turned his sword. He was tiring, Narris could tell, but the grieving Lord seemed to gain energy with each stroke.

Lord Eric Grine sent an overhand arc that would have cut the knight from shoulder to belly, had he not gotten his sword up to meet it. The longsword bounced off of the knight’s blade and then his shoulder-plate, but Lord Grine misjudged the blow, and it threw him off balance, allowing Sir Veran a moment’s reprieve to gather himself an opening for an attack. The blow hurt the knight’s shoulder, though, and on his next swing he favored it and was a shade to slow. Lord Eric shrugged the blow away and danced a step backwards as Sir Veran let loose his own fury of swings.

Sir Veran threw a slashing attack that Lord Eric parried, but he loosed his left hand and buried his mailed fist into the Lord’s face, sending him stumbling back. The Lord caught himself near the steps and lurched forward but was caught by another assault from Sir Veran. He checked the first two blows, but the third was an overhand that he pulled his sword up horizontally to catch, which Sir Veran’s sword cut through like butter. The Knight’s longsword did not stop until it was near Lord Eric’s waste, covered in sopping blood and cracked bone.

Lord Grine slumped to the ground with his broken sword still in his hand, and the knight’s still buried deep into his torso. Sir Veran put a foot on his chest and roughly pulled the sword from his broken body. Blood pooled and crept down the steps of the Throne Room. Sir Veran took a step back and took a knee, attempting to catch his breath.

The King rose from his chair. “Sir Veran Meyser, I see that you have defended your honor as a knight, and as a man of this court. I declare all charges in this matter resolved. You are free to go, sir.”

Sir Veran stood and bowed, with one last sneer at the dead lord before he stomped out of the large room. Narris felt his brow grow hot at the sight of the man. Not a bone in his body knew honor’s name, and he had no business calling himself a knight.

“I trust this verdict pleases you, Lord Narris?”

It took a moment for Narris to answer. “Things are done differently in Panthos, sire. This sort of crime would never have happened. Therefore, this matter would never have needed to be resolved in such a way.”

The King only shrugged at that. “I feel like justice has been done.” He turned to the rest of the room. “That is all for the day. Leave us.”

It took only moments for the Throne Room to empty. All except for a few of the King’s advisors and Barost had exited.

“I pray you enjoy your stay here, my Lord. After the tournament we will set out for the City of the Moon, and to your Queen. I am most intrigued about this visit. Do let me know if there is anything that you require while you are here,” the King said with a dismissive nod and turned away from Narris, headed out of the Throne Room.

“My thanks, sire,” Narris said through clenched teeth. He turned and moved towards the exit with Barost quick on his heels.

“And it will be spoken, the great Lord of Panthos set free a rapist and a murderer because of his savage and brutal laws.” Narris shook his head as he walked.

“What do we care what these brigands think about our great kingdom? Panthos does not need us to defend its honor,” Barost shrugged indifferently.

“I believe our Queen would feel differently. She wants this peace, Barost, she wants to unite the empires and be able to travel freely past the wall. She wants her people to stop living in war and embrace how sweet a life of peace can be. I am afraid that she wants much, much more than I am prepared to give her, but she will have it nonetheless.”

“We have no choice but to smile and hold our tongues until we are safely back in Lilanth.” Barost had an irritated look about his rounded face.

Narris nodded. “This tournament is in two days and is set to last a week. I want the men to keep their eyes open for anything suspicious. If they see anything, report directly to me. And Barost, keep the men out of the brothels, we need to stay out of these northerners’ debts.”

“It will be known,” Barost said with a bow.

Narris enjoyed the walk back to his room in silence and shrugged out of his clothes once he was in the privacy of the lavish solar. It might as well have been a different universe, this kingdom of the north. The fire had warmed the room nicely and he sat down with a letter written by the Queen’s hand. He had yet to break the seal on it, but he already knew exactly what it said and reading it was purely ornamental. The instructions were simple. He was not to interfere or conduct any acts not befitting an envoy of peace from the Kingdom of Panthos that could harm or potentially delay any upcoming agreements of peace by these two great empires. It was all a farce, of course. Queen Somara had sent Narris for a purpose, one that was essential to determining if the King would hold his end of the bargain.

There was a knock at the door and Narris stood lazily, not even attempting to cover his bare body. A knight with the King’s colors, dressed in full plate armor, entered through the large door, though he was lacking the shield and spear. Instead, he had a longsword that swung from his left hip and he carried his helm in his right hand.

“My Lord of Panthos,” the guardsman said, not even noticing his nudeness. “His Grace wishes you to join him in the Grand Hall tonight for a feast welcoming you and your men to our great kingdom.”

Narris nodded and set down the letter on a nearby table. “I am honored. I will be ready shortly.”

The guardsman bowed before exiting. “I will be outside to escort you to the hall, my Lord.”

He caught himself wondering how this feast would fare. If today’s happenings were of any consequence, he guessed he was in for a long night. He went to the wardrobe that his servants had offloaded from the convoy earlier that day and chose a leather doublet inlaid with the crest of the Uthari in gold and silver and shrugged it over a black silk tunic from the same chest. He chose matching black trousers and a leather belt that was peppered with diamonds from the Sparkling Sea of the Isles. With an errant sigh, he stowed the rest of his belongings and headed for the door.