Chapter Eleven

After he exited, Narris moved and shut the windows. It took him only a moment to get the fire going. He undid his leather vambraces and then shrugged out of his leather doublet. He was not a large man by any means. Save for Barost, most Uthari were small and wiry, built with speed and agility and trained with knives and sabres. His body was covered with scars and burns brought on by a life dipped in combat. It did not make sense to him, this pampered life, but his Queen wanted this peace, and he was nothing if not loyal to the throne. He shrugged on a simple silk shirt and brown leather trousers, but before heading towards the door he concealed two small knives in the front of his pants, one on each thigh. It would not be fitting to appear in public naked to the world.

With that he left the extravagant room and met two of his men in the hallway, staring directly across at two of the King’s guards. The four men could not have been more different from each other. His men were in simple leather armor with sheathed knives in the breast plate and matching sabres crossed behind their backs, whilst the King’s guards were clad in steel plate armor from head to toe with shields almost as tall as they were. They both had ten-foot spears in their right hands and sat with motionless eyes staring through slits in their visors.

Narris spoke to his two men in Tari. “They have been here the entire time?”

“They stand like statues,” one of his men replied. “Probably fight like ones too,” the other chimed in with a laugh.

“No one enters my chambers,” Narris said before turning and making his way down the large hallway. He had been taken through the side of the castle upon entering and had missed seeing the Great Hall and the Throne Room. There was to be dinner in the Great Hall later, so he decided on paying a visit to court. He had heard about what it would be like, but it still made him curious as to what happened at court here in the civilized side of the world.

It was nothing like what he had expected. He arrived late but caught the end of what appeared to be a lengthy process. The King sat on his throne, almost indifferent to the man on his knees before him. Narris saw Barost standing on the side of the room and moved to him.

“How is this all playing out?”

Barost spoke softly. “The King sits there and listens to the problems of his people. It is madness! Most of it is feuds between knights. One knight paid for a whore and before he could consummate the arrangement, another knight killed her.” The large man shook his head.

“These matters are brought before the King himself?”

Barost only nodded as they curiously watched the show in front of them. The guards were dragging away the pleading man, though Narris was not sure why, when a man dressed in silks and satins under an exuberant silver doublet stepped forward.

“My King, I pray you judge this great injustice that has affronted my house. This man, Sir Veran Meyser, raped and murdered my youngest daughter—a girl of only fifteen. She was but a maiden and hoped to be wed soon, but was robbed of her maidenhood, and her life.” The man was grey of hair and looked as though he had not slept in weeks. As he spoke, a slight tremor could be heard in his voice as he tried to hold back both his rage and tears.

The King looked at the man for a long moment. “I am terribly sorry for your troubles, Lord Eric. I knew your late wife. I miss her.” He paused and sighed. “Is Sir Veran present at this court?”

An “Aye” echoed through the hall as a large stocky lad in war torn armor and stained cloak stepped forward. He could not have been older than sixteen. “I am Sir Veran, sire.”

“What say you to these charges?”

The knight looked over at the grieving Lord. “It is true, my King, I saw the girl the night she was murdered, but I had no part in any rape or killings. I swear it by my honor as a knight. When I left her she was as pure and healthy as a babe.”

“Lies!” Lord Eric Grine yelled through gritted teeth. “You took her innocence and then spilled her blood, just like you have done time and again. Murderer!”

Sir Veran chuckled at the old man. “I wouldn’t have fucked her with your cock, my Lord, and I have no need to be killing small girls. There are plenty of fat lords with which to feed the worms and maggots.”

“Silence, both of you!” The King bellowed as he rubbed his head and looked about the large room. He noticed Narris then, standing by the big Barost near the side of the room. “Lord Narris, please, join me. I am in dire need of assistance with this problem.”

Narris glanced about the room, an unnerving look on his face. “I believe these matters will be better served by you, sire.”

The King shook away his courtesy. “Nonsense, come show me what justice is like in your great kingdom. Panthosi justice, yes.”

Reluctantly, Narris joined the king at his throne and looked down at the smug knight and old lord standing at the steps.

“So, in your kingdom, how would this matter be solved?” The King was giddy with curiosity.

Narris did not like where this was headed. “Panthosi laws are quite different from those of the Vint, sire. I would much prefer that you yourself enact judgment on this case.”

“Can it be that different, Lord Narris? Surely your laws are sound and just, otherwise your great kingdom would not have lasted so long.” The King smiled at him. “Come now. Tell this court how a matter such as this is solved in Panthos.”

Narris sighed. “By Panthosi law, the accused can defend his honor against any accuser. In this case, Sir Veran would be allowed to take up arms against Lord Grine for bringing this charge upon him, unless the Lord so wishes to withdraw his claim.”

The King’s face lit up with excitement. “Trial by combat, how interesting, we have a similar system. Though, men usually choose a champion to do the fighting for them.”

“Champions and mercenaries are forbidden in Panthos. You must defend your own honor; you must defend your own life.” Narris looked across the Throne Room, and then to Lord Eric. The Lord’s face had slumped noticeably, and Narris knew that he would not see another night’s rest.