Birthright: Tuornen, Chapter Ten

[JMaytr]

Devlin nods.

"My men will deliver them as swiftly as you complete them."

Devlin turns and walks from the chamber. He holds back a hand, gesturing for Sir Rory to wait a moment, and then he vomits onto the stone floor of the hallway. Devlin slowly collects himself, breathing deeply until the nausea has passed. when it does he looks to Sir Rory.

"I've never been so angry in my life Sir Rory, how I didn't jump out of my skin and strangle him with my bare hands I can only attest to the strength that Haelyn provides. Gods good above, I need a drink. nay, several. Alert me when he's finished the letters."

Devlin looks to Sir Lotho and nods. He leaves sir Rory and goes with his guards to find those drinks.

[ewancummins]

THAT NIGHT, AFTER CARILON HAS BEEN TAKEN FROM CAER HAES BY THE ARCHPRELATE'S MEN

Morgan
Morgan made his way down the alley. Reaching the nondescript door, he knocked specifically, three quick knocks, a pause, and one last knock. A panel in the door opened, and a man looked out at him through the thin slit of the security door.
"Inspection time." Morgan said curtly.
"Yes, sir." The voice on the other side grumbled.
The slat closed, and the door opened. Morgan entered to a room with five guardsmen seated around a table playing cards. Each man wore a red surcoat and was armed with a rapier. A familiar sergeant moved to greet him.

"The rumors have been planted." Morgan said. "I've had lantern oil barrels placed in the cellar. Their agents may be watching. If you are hit, have your boys exit through the tunnel and fire the barrels. With any luck, the agents will be killed in the fire and they may think The Duke went up with the safehouse." The sergeant only nodded, having become used to strange orders.

Morgan took one last look around the safehouse, making sure he knew and recognized each of the guardsmen, then made his way into the cellar. Everything was in place. Sliding the false cupboard along the south wall aside, he used the tunnel exit, coming up south of the safehouse in an alleyway. As of late, it seemed his life had become a blur of rooftops and alleys.

Less than a mile away, Morgan entered a shack by the back door, opened a trapdoor, and descended into a cellar of quality. No one would guess by looking at the hovel above that the cellar was in good repair. Greeting him at the foot of the stairs, a young, and somewhat overeager guardsmen snapped to attention. "Sir, the prisoner, has just been fed." Morgan nodded at the young man's report.

Looking in on the Duke, Morgan couldn't help but grin inwardly at the dejected look on the man's face. He certainly wasn't used to taking his meals in a cellar. Everything was to plan so far. In Morgan's experience, that's exactly when things went south fast. All he could do was be ready.

[ewancummins]

MORGAN

The night passes without incident, although Duke Carilon seems to be acting strangely ever since the Archprelate left him (the high cleric questioned for him intensely for over an hour, just after the transfer). The old man stares at the walls, mutters to himself, and at times seems to argue with unseen presences.

"I'll see them all rot in hellfire yet, even if I have to go into the flames with them."

[ewancummins]

THE DAY OF HAELYN'S FESTIVAL
THE SUMMER SOLSTICE

Word arrives in Haes that Devlin's men have taken control of Sorentier Castle, giving the people of Haes greater cause than usual to celebrate the joyous holiday which marks the arrival of summer. What is more, today Duke Carilon of Alamie is to be tried in the temple court before witnesses, with His Holiness the Archprelate presiding.


...


THE TRIAL OF DUKE CARILON
AND
THE WORD OF THE ARCHPRELATE


The proceedings open with a series of rituals in which the Archprelate and multiple assistants beseech Haleyn’s blessing and charge all present to be truthful and forthright in giving answers. When the prayers end, the inquisition begins in earnest...

During the course of the day-long trial, the old man does not answer the charges read against him, except to shake his head. Occasionally he turns to glare at Tuor nobles present, or to gaze hopefully towards the doors.

The Archprelate addresses the prisoner after all evidence and testimony have been given. "Duke Carilon, you have chosen to maintain an obstinate silence on the charges of ordering assassinations of your enemies. No doubt you are aware that here in Haleyn’s holy temple your lies will be revealed! Count yourself fortunate that the toymaker remains at large—his answers might condemn you.”

Carilon remains seated, eyes half closed, making no reply.

The Archprelate continues. “But in any event, you can hardly deny that Baubb the Toymaker was your clandestine agent, spying for you and helping your men to enter the city by means of a tunnel that ran beneath his home. Baubb fashioned the infernal devices which killed Duke Gilgaed, attacked Duke Devlin, slew an innocent page, and endangered Sir Roald’s life. More damning still, you had an invasion prepared which coincided almost exactly with Baubb’s creations going into bloody action.
There is more.
The letters seized from Baron Lynwerd’s camp implicate you in a plot that sent a horde of goblins and devil-wolves to attack the unsuspecting folk of Ghonallison province even before the war had formally begun, a grotesque and treacherous action totally unworthy of a duke’s grace and dignity. “
The gray haired cleric leans forward, hands resting on the down-curving arms of his elaborately graven prelate’s throne. “In light of all that I have seen and heard, and having prayed to Haelyn for insight and right guidance, I hereby judge you guilty of wrongfully causing the deaths of innocents—the name foremost on that list being that of Duke Gilaged of House Flaertes-- and guilty of waging an unjust war by unrighteous methods.

When it was in your power to judge others, you showed precious little mercy, and so many men have called for you to be dealt with you in the same fashion.
If you wish mercy, you must ask for it. ”

The Alamien ruler closes his eyes, his whole body tensing. Wisps of smoke appear from thin air before him, rising towards the domed ceiling of the temple court. The air in the courtroom suddenly grows very warm…and then--nothing. A cool breeze blows through an open window, dissipating the smoke.
Carilon looks wide-eyed in surprise for a moment, and then a deep frown creases his haggard face. His shoudlers slump a little. He curses in a low voice, “Damn me.” The old noble rises from his seat, drawing himself to his full height and looking straight ahead. “I’m not a fool. I yield to whatever mercy I may expect.“

Rhobher lifts his right hand. “You ask me for mercy. I grant it; but not without penance.”

Carilon allows himself a slight smile. “I understand, Your Holiness. I could perhaps build a grand new cathedral dedicated in memory of my dead cousin. Would that be sufficient? And a treaty of peace, of course.”

Rhobher Nichalier shakes his head. He points down at Carilon. “You will sign a treaty of peace, yes.
But let that be your final act as Alamie's duke.
Your heir may assume the throne and ducal honors. You, Your Grace, will be much too busy with your quest of penance, and I cannot ask that you leave your realm without a proper authority.
I charge you to journey into the Five Peaks alone and penniless. There you will battle the goblin slavers and set free every human slave you find. You may not return to civilized lands until you have-- by your own deeds-- freed one thousand human beings from bondage. When your task is complete, you will return to me or to my successor to give your account in full and be shriven of your sins.”

Carilon reels as if struck a blow. ”Give up my rule?” He sputters in anger and confusion. “Fight all those goblins without an army? One thousand slaves—why, that could take years, if it could be done at all! Are there even that many captives in the mountains at any one time?”

The Archprelate answers in a hard tone. “I am given to understand that there are now more than is usual, since your former allies attacked Ghonallison.
You can always refuse the quest, in which cases I will turn you over to Duke Devlin for sentencing. Which is it to be?”

For a long moment, the Duke of Alamie says nothing. He glances at the closed, barred, and well-guarded exit.

The rising murmur of the crowds gathered in the streets carries through the windows and into the court chamber.

(Outside, Captain Renn and his watchmen are quite busy holding back the press of people; gentry, nobles, and small folk all trying to get close to the site of the trial)


"I accept."

Nobles of Tuornen who are present for the trial burst into applause, rising to stand in the aisles.


In another minute, the word has gone out into the streets, and the cheers of the multitude rise in great waves of joy as the cathedral bells toll again and again.


THE END OF CHAPTER TEN