Chapter 7

  The bald-headed men converged on their uninvited guests. All dressed the same in a basic woolen robe that resembled the color of sodden paper and looked itchy to the touch. Their hands were hidden inside their sleeves, their eyes leered at the large, dark man at the door. Morhiem found himself outside the room, hoping to give the men space enough to leave without engaging in conversation. He could taste the venom in his mouth, a sour taste that would taint his words with a passive aggression and condescension. Neither of which would help in his plea to have Redven released from the charges brought against him.

  ‘And what do we have here?’ said one of the men, all of whom seemed nearly identical to Redven.

  ‘A new servant? Looks a little rough to me,’ said another, the men gathering closer together as they began to surround Redven. They prodded at his arms, pushing his muscles as if testing the firmness of fruit. Redven was a sight to see in a royal court, a muscular man dressed like a noble. More to the point, it was a noble that the men in grey had not met, intriguing indeed.

  ‘The tanned hands and face might be believable if you were a fishmonger or a boat herder, but it’s your fingernails and musculature that give you away. I know of no noble born that carries dirt underneath his nails, with calluses to match,’ spoke a man from behind the pack, his voice significantly deeper than the others.

  ‘You’re a farmer, and based on your choice of company I’d say it’s likely you’re the farmer that massacred the other farmers out in the east,’ he continued, watching as Redven’s gaze lowered slightly and turned to the door. Morhiem quickly scurried between Redven and the men in an attempt to shield them should he lash out at their remarks.

  ‘Now now, gentlemen. Leave the questioning to his Highness, after all you are advisors not adjudicators,’ said Morhiem, pointing his raised arms to the chairs in the corner of the room, hoping to clear the path for Redven and himself. His guest had remained calm for sometime, a fact Morhiem didn’t want to rely on if he didn’t have to. As the two of them walked into the centre of the room, the men began to encircle them from behind like pack of fasted hyenas, waiting for a moment to strike. As they moved closer to the door, they heard it being opened from the other side. The large wooden barricaded doors were slowly opened, revealing an elegant stairway to an elevated throne. The throne room itself was well lit, large stain-glass windows wrapped around the room depicting some sort of ancient battle. A man in flames flying through the sky towards a group of hooded men. Redven didn’t manage to see the other scenes, thinking it might be considered rude should he be seen as distracted at his own court hearing. The King was nowhere to be seen. His brother, the General, stood in blood-red plate armour behind the throne, appearing to be moving pieces on a military planning board, much like the one in Morhiem’s office, but likely much more ornate.Redven remembered back to the days when he had to plan attacks, the whittled wooden pieces of their enemies often found themselves surrounded by ornate, heavy marble pieces that represented the royal army. Several other men were present at the table, examining the plans that had been laid. A man with hair that reached his toes, black as a jet and moved like silk. His hair lay gently against his all white robe, also silk, Redven thought. He moved with a grace that seemed unnatural, his balance and strength seemed well outside the range of the nobles that occupied the Inner Ring. His style of dress also betrayed a sense of locality. Likely a foreign advisor, thought Redven.

  As the King entered the room, he spoke briefly to the men at the table, many of whom left the room immediately after they’d been spoken to, except for the General and the long haired man. He moved to his throne but did not sit. Instead, he stood in front of it at the top of the stairs.

  ‘Chief Commander Morhiem, you come to me today with a criminal who has befriended you, is this correct?’ asked the King, showing little tolerance for the topic of the meeting.

  ‘Not quite, Your Highness. This man is an old friend of mine and was once a Commander of the Amerossan Royal Army. I am here today to plead for his release and to provide evidence that he not only acted within the law but was instrumental in stopping a criminal organisation that threatened the welfare of our citizens,’ said Morhiem, standing to attention as he addressed the King. Redven stood next to him, his eyes averted towards the ground, hoping not to intimidate the King. He didn’t particularly care for being out of the room Morhiem kept him in nor did he wish to be released. He just hoped to help Morhiem out, as it seemed that he had nothing else to live for.

  ‘Would the prisoner show his face?’ said the King, a command phrased as a question, but this was not lost on Redven. He stood to attention as Morhiem had, bringing his chin up so that his eyes met with the King’s. The King stared into Redven’s eyes as he spoke.

  ‘It is my understanding that this man, illustrious as he once was, is a tortured soul who took the blade to his own family in a fit of rage and then in a relentless bloodlust, he massacred half of the farmers in the eastern farmlands, their families included. Was there not a witness to his fury at the crime scene? Where he was arrested?’ asked the King, breaking eye contact only to address his question to Morhiem. Redven’s eyes widened slightly when the King said he had killed his own family, his heart beginning to race.

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  ‘My liege, whilst the list of events you have retold is similar to the events that occurred, I believe I have found enough evidence at each of the crime scenes as well as witnesses statements which would allow for a different perspective,’ said Morhiem, choosing his words carefully so as to not anger the King. The King was known to be a very shrewd man. Both calculating and quick-witted, were there ever cause for it, he’d be one of few men to truly oppose Morhiem in a battle of intellect. Morhiem knew this, so he chose to play the game with the cards he has been dealt. The King could not be swindled nor would he allow for any argument that he wouldn’t be happy to sail on.

  ‘And what perspective is that?’ said the King, the words left his mouth slowly as he emphasised them individually.

  ‘It is my belief, through careful analysis of the evidence and the witness statements, that this man acted in retaliation to the brutal murder of his family for unjust reasoning. And, in the completion of his revenge he has unknowingly put a stop the raiding that had been occurring in the east for some time as the farmers he slew were housing the bandits we were after,’ said Morhiem, his voice filled with conviction.

  ‘Go on, Chief Commander, I don’t have all day. Just say your piece and let me deliberate,’ said the King, his impatience evident.

  ‘Of course, Your Grace. When my men arrived at the first crime scene, later in the night, they found this man’s entire farm had been covered in salt. Not likely something done in rage by a maniac. His window had been smashed in, blood stained the handle on the inside of the door. A man would have a key to his own house. The farmers that were slain that night were also involved in an attempted attack upon my friend here. They were defeated, and sought revenge on him. When they were caught salting his fields by his wife, they attempted to silence her but she fought back. This explains the odd and numerous wounds, none of which are definite killing blows but all of which accumulated into such a result,’ Morhiem said, his hands were in front of him as he spoke, gesturing with open palms in an attempt to appear as sincere as possible.

  ‘Redven, here, come home from a meeting with me here in the city. My guards escorted him most of the way. When they arrived to find him at the end of his revenge, the time barely allowed for such events to take place, let alone the salting of entire fields. This man came home to find his livelihood and his family destroyed. He sought revenge upon the men who had shown they were willing to attack his person and now had more motive in their shameful defeat. My King, this man is a master swordsman who wanted a farming life to be with his family. It was taken from him, so he took revenge against his aggressors. Should such evidence have come to court before he enacted his revenge, the ruling would have been similar and he would have inherited their lands. But I do not ask for this much,’ said Morhiem, hoping to have lured the King into thinking his request was more worthy than a man inheriting the lands of the men he slew.

‘And what is it that you ask, before I consider what you have said?’ asked the King.

  ‘Your Highness, I wish for this man’s freedom. That is all. I will not hide my personal motives for this man’s freedom. As a master of the blade, he would be a vital asset to the training regime that is necessary for the protection of the realm. If he is willing to accept my job offer, he would be put to good use in training our warriors. The warriors he trains would be sent to the garrison that is being built in the eastern farmlands, between the city and the forest. Should he decline, then he can do as he pleases with his life,’ Morhiem finished, feeling good about how he presented his case, but still concerned with the King’s lack of tells. Normally he can read people like a book, but the King hid his thoughts well. Perhaps well enough that he didn’t fall for the openness of Morhiem’s body language.

  ‘And the prisoner’s name?’ asked the King

  ‘Redven Sol, Your Grace.’

  ‘Mr. Sol, would you work as Commander Morhiem intends, or would you do otherwise?’

  Redven went to answer, only to be met with a dry throat and no voice. He cleared his throat and answered loud and clear.

  ‘I would owe the Chief Commander my life, if teaching would repay that debt then I would teach,’ said Redven. This isn’t what he wanted, but he had nothing left. At least this way, he could help others to save their own families. With each man he trained, he might be saving several more lives, he thought.

  ‘Then it is my decision that under the watchful eye of Chief Commander Morhiem that you are to be released from prison as a member of my personal staff. You are will not be free of your crimes until I am certain that you are not a threat to my citizens. I will set the remainder of my terms later today. Until then, you will be found a lodging in the barracks and are not to leave until otherwise instructed. Is this understood?’ said the King.

  ‘Yes, Your Highness,’ responded Redven, not sure how to feel about what just happened.

  The long haired man waited briefly in the silence before chiming in.

  ‘Oh Morhiem, if I’d known you were so moral, I’d have offered you a position in my order years ago!’

  ‘I don’t think I’d like it, I’m not a fan of insects. Besides, I’m happy not being a pet,’ retorted Morhiem, somewhat annoyed by the man’s interjection.

  ‘Oh, how very rude to say in front of yours,’ said the long haired man.

  Morhiem knew he was being baited and didn’t feel like taking the time to play these childish games, he smiled and turned away.