The moment of truth, Jon thought.
“But,” Lanard continued, “given the lack of evidence on either side, I must refrain from calling the headsman. Instead, the accused is sentenced to a flogging of fifty lashes to be carried out tomorrow at sunrise.”
Garrel’s smile disappeared from his face. The headmaster’s frown didn’t change one bit. Did he already know the result beforehand?
“Given the aggravating circumstances of the crime, he’ll remain on the whipping post until sunset, with salt being rubbed on his wounds once every hour. To assure that the sentence is carried out, he’ll be confined to his room until then—”
“With all due respect, my lord, I must protest. This halfbreed attacked us, he deserves to die.”
“Your protest has been noted, lord Vypren, but the decision is final. As I said before, you’ve failed to bring forth any evidence or witness that might corroborate your side of the story.”
“Then I ask for the flogging to be carried out by a Paladin.”
Lanard didn’t waste a heartbeat. “No. On a Paladin’s hand, the whip will cut through the skin and muscles. Fifty of it will shatter the bones and turn the organs into pulp.”
“It’s a punishment fitting of the crime. We could even arrange for a healer to ensure his survival. If he isn’t strong enough to endure it, then he isn’t worthy of being at this academy.”
A laugh almost escaped Jon’s lips, the irony not lost on him. He alone had managed to kick their asses to the curb. If he wasn’t worthy of staying at the academy, then they shouldn’t even have enrolled in the first place.
“My decision has already been made. If lord Vypren and lady Krey wish so, you may pick the Crusader who will deliver the flogging.”
“Any Crusader we want?” Garrel asked, a glint in his eyes. “Even ourselves?”
“If that’s your wish and as long as it doesn’t surpass fifty lashes, then yes.”
Garrel and Ireyne looked at one another, the hint of a smirk on their lips. He turned back to Lanard and said, “In that case, we have no more protests to raise.”
“Good.” Lanard stood up from the chair, his body casting a shadow that cut the headmaster’s desk in half. “Judgment has been passed and I declare this trial over.”
Everyone bowed their heads in respect. Garrel and Ireyne were the first ones to walk out of the room, leaving Jon alone with the older men.
“Anthor, would you please bring the guards to escort the student to his room? Make sure to bring two pairs, one to wait in the hallway, and the other to watch over the balcony.”
“Yes, my lord,” said the old headmaster, closing the door as he left.
Lanard circled around the desk, stopping at arm’s length from Jon. “That’s settled, so try not to get yourself into any more trouble. I’m not here to always save your hide, and this academy isn’t a charity. You’re supposed to be getting stronger to better serve Somerford in the future, same as every other student.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Again, thank you, my lord,” Jon answered with a nod. “But will Garrel really be the one delivering the flogging?”
“Would you rather have it be a tenth stage Crusader instead? Garrel and Ireyne are both on the third stage, so their blows will be weaker. Or rather, not as strong. Besides, they will be more likely to feel satisfied with the punishment if they’re the ones delivering it.”
Jon would rather not be flogged at all, but beggars can’t be choosers. “I understand.” He broke eye contact, turning his attention to the six letters from his roommates and professors atop the desk. “May I read them?”
Lanard just shrugged. “The trial is over, so you can do with them as you please. Not here, though. Hide it under your clothes and leave the reading for when you’re back at your room.”
Having got the permission, Jon wasted no time. He leaned over the desk, grabbed it in one hand, and shoved it halfway into the side of his breeches, the tight belt keeping it in place while the tunic and robes covered it up. Just in time as the door swung open soon afterward.
The headmaster walked in, the same frown still on his face as if etched on. Behind him, four men donning gray plates of armor ready to escort Jon away to his room.
***
It felt like an eternity ago ever since Jon last set foot in his dorm room. Two of the guards followed him inside, heading straight for the balcony while the other pair remained in the hallway outside. He wasn’t sure why the two didn’t simply climb over the side of the building. Maybe it was considered bad manners, or maybe their armors were too heavy for that.
Regardless, Jon was finally out of that dark cell. His first goal was to get his next meal at the feasting hall. He doubted the guards would let him out, so he instead turned to the next thing on the list which was washing away a week of dirt and dry sweat off his body.
He left the bathroom almost a full hour later. None of his roommates had returned from classes yet, which meant he could use this time to look through the letters they sent in his favor.
Nevil’s was the first one he looked through. It told that Jon hadn’t been involved in any quarrel, mentioned the performance at the Squire’s Tourney to prove he had great potential, and pleaded for Jon’s life. All of that in a full page.
Bella raised similar points, albeit much more concisely. Aeron argued that Garrel’s version was unconvincing and that the lack of guards nearby pointed to them being ordered to leave their posts.
Deon was the briefest of all, limiting himself to ask for Jon’s freedom and saying it would be a personal favor to the House of Castex-Lafitte du Bocage. A foreign House from which he had been practically disinherited. Jon doubted Deon would have much of an effect, but the thought still counted, if only a little.
With them out of the way, Jon turned his attention to what his professors wrote.
To Your Grace Jorvan Olsandre and Headmaster Pyle
I urge you to be merciful with the student Jon of Rochdale in the coming trial. In the few months enrolled at our academy, he has never displayed any signs of aggression or instability. Not only is he never seen neglecting studies, but his daily visits to the library also show a thirst for knowledge that should serve as an example to all other students.
Professor Willow Breckon was signed at the end of it.
Although sharing the same goal, her brother seemed to have completely different reasons to have Jon survive.
Your Grace, I write to you to talk about the coming trial against the student Jon of Rochdale. Due to his rare condition of being attuned to opposite elements, he has proven himself useful to the research being conducted by me and my sister. In case he is declared guilty, I ask for the headsman to be avoided in favor of forced labor. His death would serve no practical use and benefit no one. Alive, he would work to pay for his crime while, at the same time, serving to help the academy.
On one hand, Jon had to agree that being useful was a viable way for him to survive. On the other, it was obvious that Professor Cedrik cared only for his research.
Done with the letters, Jon hid them inside his wardrobe and thought about what to do next. Training swordplay inside the dorm room would be ill-advised, to say the least. Besides, he should try and recover his strength for tomorrow, which meant sleeping. Easier said than done though. Despite how exhausted he felt, he couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep. So many days underground in complete darkness messed up his internal clock.