Niklas gulped audibly after stepping out through the doorway that led into the courtyard, for until that moment he had not fully comprehended just how great a crowd had gathered for this meeting. One to two dozen men and women had accompanied each of the village Elders as part of their respective entourages, and the Lords and Mayors had brought even more attendants with them than that. If there were any further arrivals, the already-full courtyard would practically be bursting at the seams!

Unfortunately, it appeared that would soon be the case, for just as Niklas, Uldred and Lady Merida had stepped out of the large doorway and onto the stone steps which descended into the courtyard, a small commotion could be heard from outside of the gates across from them. While the Count and Countess remained at the top of the stair, Lady Merida made her way down and then maneuvered through the crowds towards the gate, where mostly her own militia-men were stationed as guards. Sir Gregory strode over to her to report on the situation, though Niklas could not make out what he was saying from this distance.

Even the stoic and composed Lady Merida appeared somewhat startled by whatever information Ser Gregory shared with her, and she made her way just as quickly back over to the stairs so that she could lean over and whisper her news to the Noble couple.

“It would appear that a delegation from Lengar has arrived quite unannounced. They said they were here to… ’sit in’ at the Moot.”

Niklas shared a startled and concerned look with his Countess then, who in turn, despite being fully veiled behind her usual mask and hood, still narrowed her eyes, which flashed with the same emotions as his.

“How many?” The Countess brusquely asked her aunt.

“Eleven.”

Uldred scoffed at that. “Well, I can certainly handle that many. Let them come and watch, but they are forbidden from speaking unless they are called upon first.”

Lady Merida gave a small and respectful bow of her head to signal her acknowledgement before making her way back down the stairs to deliver the message. Niklas watched her go before turning his gaze back towards Uldred, his expression filled with incredulity as he spoke up.

“...Is that wise? Allowing representatives of another territory such intimate knowings of the state of our own?”

Uldred did not immediately answer him, but instead took a long moment to peer silently down at him, and then back out over the large crowd, which bustled with the quiet hum of many overlapping conversations.

“Before you arrived Lengar was one of our biggest benefactors. Petrice and Lengar shared many contracts between them. If you were to be… removed from here, we will likely resume that relationship. I am sure they will do nothing to jeopardize that opportunity.”

Niklas’ expression became flat. “You also regularly contracted against them, and slew their fighters by the dozens.” He pointed out, to which Uldred’s expression stiffened slightly.

From afar the two watched now as the new group entered through the gate and made their way to the very back of the courtyard. They were dressed in tabards of cambridge blue accented with copper. The standard of a lion’s head set above two crossed axes was displayed proudly. However, the most notable detail to Niklas was the make of their arms and armor, which appeared to be of quite a high quality. Ten of the men wore their tabards over a coat of chain, with their extremities then protected by a layer of steel plate, and finally their heads were protected by sturdy skull-cap helmets with chain aventails. Not only was this kind of armor expensive, but it was also intimidating as well.

At the head of this pack strode a confident-looking man with a round, doughy face set over a thick neck, wreathed in a mass of platinum-blonde hair which lent him a somewhat Cupid-like appearance. He wore a long coat of fine, sturdy brown leather over a plate cuirass, with a uniform showing through underneath.

“Salza Lengarson…” Uldred murmured in voice which, while soft, was laced with clear annoyance.

The heir to the County of Lengar came here himself? Niklas thought in surprise. He must be very brave… or at least very self-assured.

No sooner had he thought this than did the man himself notice the Count’s attention upon him, which he quickly returned with his own smug grin and a slight raise of his chin, as if he was somehow looking down upon Niklas despite the disparity in their current elevations.

I suppose it must be the latter, then…

Near the center of the Petrician crowd, Elder Crawford of Wiffeld grit his teeth. His face reddened with suppressed frustration, until he could finally wait no longer as he burst out into a yell.

“Enough stalling. Let’s get this over with already!” He cried out while shaking his fist in anger, which garnered a few shouts of support from the people around him, although they mostly originated from members of his own party.

“HOLD YOUR TONGUES!” Boomed the Countess from where she loomed ominously above them on the stairs, which immediately cowed most of the disruptive party, save for Crawford who still maintained his rebellious demeanor.

In the brief silence that followed Uldred’s command, Niklas took the opportunity to loudly clear his throat, catching the attention of most of the people assembled there. Once he’d confirmed his tactic had worked, he began to address them.

“Greetings everyone, my name is Count Niklas–”

“What?” Cried a voice from the far back of the crowd. “We can’t quite hear you!”

“I said–” Niklas attempted to respond, except that just then a great hand struck his back with such force that it nearly knocked all of the wind from his lungs. If it had not hurt so much, Niklas would have been impressed by Uldred’s careful measure of her own strength, as she had managed not to send him flying off of his perch.

“I am Count Niklas, your Lord of Petrice!” He declared over the fading echoes of Uldred’s slap, and in a voice much louder and more authoritative than he had been expecting–a pitch he did his best to maintain as he continued.

“I have called… no, you have all called me here today as a result of my recent actions, so that I may provide explanations for them, allowing you to better judge them with an understanding of my intentions!”

Several small looks of surprise ran amongst the people in the crowd as they listened. Lady Merida grinned a little.

He leant authority over the situation back to the people, rather than trying to maintain it as his own. A clever start…

“I will not say that I am here to ‘defend’ my actions, because I do not believe that what I have been doing is wrong. With the opportunity you all have provided me with here today, I believe that I can… ingratiate you towards my preparations for the betterment of the territory!”

Several hushed conversations sprung up amongst the crowd, some questioning the sincerity of his words while others doubted the validity of the harsh rumors about his demeanor. Niklas was satisfied to allow doubt to fester amongst his hostile audience. If he could just fracture their unified stance against him, he was confident he could avoid the worst-case scenario.

“Don’t listen to his honeyed words!” Crawford yelled forth again. “Have you not already seen evidence of his crimes first-hand? The refugees from Coronton turning up on our doorsteps in droves, stretching our already-meagre resources even further as they flee from his heavy taxation, and all of this right before the winter months?!”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Yeah, that’s right! Explain that, yer Lordship!” Cried another voice, that of an older woman, who Niklas recognized as being the Elder from the village of Pyrt. “This man came to many of our villages, peddlin’ his plans to tax us out of our goods and our savings, as if it’d be a boon to us. We told him ‘No’ to his face, but he ignored us and went ahead and did it anyway! ‘An now that he’s seeing some rightful consequences, he’s tryna’ justify his crimes.”

At that a great wave of outrage began to spread amongst the people. It is an underappreciated experience to undergo, with the suffocating pressure of hundreds of hostile gazes all bearing down on one man. A cold sweat broke out upon Niklas’ forehead, and he struggled to remember to breathe. All he wanted to do in that moment was turn around, shut the thick wooden door behind him, and hide away from this horrible weight within the safety of the Castle walls. But he knew that if he did so, that would be the end of him. So he continued to hold himself properly upright before the crowd, and he raised his hands in a placating gesture as he attempted to bring down the many loud and overlapping voices there.

Lady Merida rubbed her brow to stave off the beginnings of a headache. “They’ve already lost the plot! They’re not even going to follow the proper protocol of a Moot, are they?” She grumbled in a low tone. “This is just a mob.” Ser Gregory merely grunted in reply.

“My people. My people, please! Give me your gracious mercy for one moment, so that I might explain everything that has happened.”

From behind him Uldred watched in surprise as his calm demeanor did manage to settle the crowd, although not completely. Nonetheless, the raging fire that was their anger diminished to a simmer as they waited for his explanation.

Niklas took a single deep breath to settle himself before he continued. “As of this moment, I, as Count of Petrice, declare that the City of Coronton is in open rebellion against the territory!”

A wave of gasps ran through the crowd. Uldred perked up, looking down at Niklas in surprise. She, and the majority of the people in the crowd as well, had been operating under the assumption that Lord Borney and he were allies. They had all thought that he would attend the Moot with the goal of defending the Lord-Mayor to them, before proceeding with the taxation plans that were already underway. No one had thought that he would take the harshest measure possible against the Mayor and declare him as an Outlaw!

“As I’m sure all of you have been witness to, the Lord-Mayor Borney has recently enacted and enforced several laws of unjustified and unsustainable taxation over his own people, the very same laws that have caused so many poor folk to be ousted from their homes, and he has done so entirely without my prior knowledge, nor my consent!”

“Th-that’s not true!” Called a nervous-sounding male voice from the crowd. “I am from Coronton, and before I fled I saw the writ of Law was passed with his seal upon it!”

Many dozens of expectant eyes then turned back to Niklas, all of them waiting for an explanation. “Aye, that you did!” Niklas declared in response. “--and I thank you for bringing our attention to what you have witnessed, since that brings me to the next component of Lord Mayor Borney’s crimes!”

Niklas raised his hand to gesture towards his right eye, the one that was still a faintly discolored and bruised dark around its edges. “When I was informed of the Lord Mayor’s actions, I personally rode posthaste to Coronton, in order to oppose his orders and restore the status quo..!”

Lady Merida’s expression, along with those of the other Lords and Mayors present, immediately darkened. A feeling of dreadful anticipation began to radiate from each of them as they quickly realized the direction in which this narrative was headed.

“...but when I arrived there I was harshly detained by the Lord Mayor’s men, beaten to within an inch of my life, and placed under arrest within his Castle! Meanwhile, the Lord Mayor stole from me the item I had brought with me in order to verify my identity–the very Seal of Petrice itself!”

The crowd fell deathly silent as he relayed this information. If it was true, then what had occurred was a most terrible crime, the likes of which had never before been witnessed within the history of the County!

“Even now, the Lord Mayor draws up and stamps more Laws of his own creation, all done without any oversight, validity, nor care for their impact upon his people! I defy every last one of his fraudulent declarations, and I vow forthwith to reclaim that Seal and to return order and justice to Coronton, its people, and you all!”

Several claps and cheers of support arose then, but they were all-too quickly culled by Crawford’s renewed barking. He sounded not a little desperate at this time, as he had not foreseen such a shocking turn of events, and he felt that his golden opportunity to dismiss this foreign Count was slipping away before his eyes!

“Th-this is not a Moot called for the Mayor of Coronton! This Moot was called for you, Count!” And with that, just as quickly as they had arisen, any stirrings of support for Niklas from amongst the assembled crowd now vanished in a puff of smoke.

“Do not be fooled! We Elders saw his ‘plans’ for the future–he brought them to us weeks ago! And even at that time, I and all of the rest of the wise Elders present saw them for what they were. For all the Petricians gathered here today, is it not telling that, even if fraudulent, he showed these plans to the Mayor of Coronton–whose corruption and greed is known well to us all–and yet even then, it was not until that man employed the Count’s plans than did Coronton began to suffer so much damage and grief?”

“Aye!” Came a cry of agreement from many of the other Elders.

By this point the majority of the people present looked unsure of who to believe, and they had ridden many tumultuous waves of emotion as the Moot unfolded. Their initial perceptions of the Count had been completely shattered: the rumors of his intelligence, his demeanor, even his looks had been vastly exaggerated. He seemed to these uneducated folk to be the very picture of an upright and upstanding Nobleman. However, at the same time, the village Elders, who had served for many years as their wise leaders, looked upon him with disdain, and every point of argument they brought against the Count was so criminal and abhorrent that it dragged their perception of him right back down into the mud!

“N-not all of the Elders are in agreement!” A small voice emerged from near the back of the crowd, causing heads to turn and bodies to part before the thin and coltish figure of the youngest ‘Elder’ to ever hold the position.

“Who in the Hells are you?” Demanded Elder Crawford.

“I-I am Elder Finona from Thuud!”

Crawford and his people narrowed their eyes at her, along with the many young twenty-somethings who had come as the representatives of Thuud, who returned those hostile glares with their own.

“I l-looked over the same plans as you all did, which had been brought before me by the Count himself, who braved the harsh terrain to travel to all of the Western villages–and, might I add, with only a single man to protect him!”

Well, my guard was a Flamberge, but we’ll just keep that detail to ourselves… Niklas thought, feeling a bit of passing guilt for some reason.

“After much careful discussion and deliberation, I found that th-the Count’s plans were sound, and were full of good ideas, which, if adopted, could only bring future benefit to the people of Petrice!”

It was one thing for a Lord to say so, and about his own proposals no less, but now these words were coming from a village Elder, one of the traditional leaders of the people of Petrice! Regardless of how young she was, her earnest approval of the Count seemed to have some positive effects on the gathered throng.

Finona cast a pointed glare towards Crawford before turning it upon the other Elders present as well. “A-and after hearing their words, I wonder if any of the other village Heads present truly read and considered all of the details of the Count’s proposals, and the possibility that they could improve the well-being of the people... or did they simply dismiss them without bothering to look them over, just because of his Lordship’s foreign origins?”

For once, Crawford appeared stricken as he listened to those words. The veins of his face began to grow prominent as every inch of it flushed puce. Indeed, so strong was the force of his outrage over witnessing such defiance from one so young, that Niklas worried the man may suffer a medical emergency on the spot. Many of the other Elders appeared similarly shocked and upset, while a few of them appeared genuinely remorseful at her accusations, looking down at their feet as they hung their heads in guilt.

Then a hand arose from amongst the crowd.

Niklas was the first to notice it, and as the crowd caught on to the new direction of his gaze, many other eyes followed his to the very back of the courtyard, and all attention now came to rest upon one man. It was Salza Lengarson who had taken a step forward and raised up his hand in a silent request for permission to speak, a serpent-like grin curling at his lip as he did so.

A horrible anxiety twisted in his gut and made Niklas not want to acknowledge the man, and thereby force him to remain silent for the remainder of the Moot. He wanted to simply ride the wave of positive emotions that Finona had crafted for him until it led to a successful resolution... But it would be most rude to ignore Salza’s request, and would in fact count as an insult towards the entire Lengar family. Niklas suppressed a wince as he slowly and begrudgingly raised a finger until its point rested directly upon the distant form of the Noble Heir.

I have a terrible feeling about this…