The Lord Commander regards the battered and bloody duo before him with a look Kyros can only describe as disgust.
The great man thrusts his massive sword forward, throwing the tattered dress off the end of the blade. Kyros watches the rag flutter to the ground with the dignity of a crushed butterfly, landing next to a folded red parasol.
“I suppose you must both take me for the King’s fool.”
"My lord," Kyros begins, "we’d never-"
“The Lord Commander has not given you permission to speak!” One of the captains standing next to the Lord Commander’s throne speaks up. Kyros recognises the bald head and chip-toothed grin immediately.
Moralis Maydan. The drunk, slimy bastard of a captain. Whenever Kyros looks at the man, he is reminded of that day they ran into each other by the steps of the headquarters.
He doesn't seem any soberer now than he was then.
The captain of the West Gate is dressed in a royal blue doublet with his eagle insignia sewn across the left breast. He has a sword hung over his leather belt, its scabbard so polished Kyros can’t help but wonder if the captain has ever had to draw it.
“Forgive him, Lord Commander.” Cathra’s voice is clear and low, her head bowed even lower. “Kyros has barely slept during the last week. The exhaustion must be making him forget his place.” She gives him a sideways glance as if to say, Stay quiet.
"Let us begin the hearing."
The Lord Commander rests his greatsword onto the marble beneath his throne and places his hands on either side of the blade’s massive guards.
"Captains of Kesrock, we are here under the watchful gaze of Nranhana and Sharn, our twin goddesses of heaven and hell, daylight and nightfall, to decide on the fates of Cathra Stelias and Kyros Argonston. They have been accused on one count of Treason and one count of accessory to Treason, and shall henceforth be judged in this hall by their fellow men."
The three captains take their seats next to the Lord Commander; two on his right and Captain Maydan on the left with an empty seat next to his, where the south captain will usually sit.
If she isn’t kneeling here next to me, thinks Kyros grimly.
“I do believe this is all a misunderstanding,” says the oldest captain, seated on the Lord Commander’s far right. Kyros spots the all-too-familiar twin snakes of the North Gate curling across the old man’s velvet tunic. “I have known Cathra since she was a wee recruit. It is unfamthonable that she should do something so despicable.”
Sir Gregorn Tigarn is a man passing his seventies and looks the years. His wrinkles give him the look of an empty wineskin in sore need of refilling. Two bushy eyebrows mark the places where his eyes should be, lost as they are within the folds of his skin.
“We should wait until the evidence is all laid out, Captain Tigarn,” the man next to the old captain reminds him. “You may find yourself surprised.”
Kyros does not know this much younger man, and the way he is sitting with one leg crossed high covers up the sigil he is wearing. His vest is a mix of gold and yellow, matching his head of luscious sand-colored hair. By process of elimination, Kyros deducts him to be the recently appointment Captain Danton Ralish of the East Gate.
“Judgement shall be passed after the facts are examined first,” the Lord Commander declares. “Send in the evidence.”
At his word, four squires rush into the sovereign hall, carrying two wooden chests between them. They set it down by the podium, and then with another command from the Lord Commander, open the first to reveal it filled with parchments and scrolls.
The Lord Commander’s voice booms. “Captains. These have been discovered in Cathra Stelias’s chambers in the early hours of this very day. Our scribes have poured through each one and concluded that they contain hidden plans to assassinate and usurp the Royal Family.”
A collective gasp runs through the sovereign hall.
“Oh my,” says Captain Maydan, leaning forward in his seat. “I see our Lady Knight has been keeping herself busy.”
Kyros stares at the chest in disbelief. He looks at Cathra, to find her smiling faintly.
She's either taking this really well, or worryingly poorly.
“Your lordship,” Kyros tries to say but is cut off.
“That is not all.” The Lord Commander signals for one of his squires to pick up the notebook sitting on top the pile of parchments. “Our knights have discovered this ledger, secreted away inside the woman’s own home. It contains records of transactions and communication with the Thieves’ Covenant.”
“Now that is damning evidence,” remarks Captain Ralish. “However, Lord Commander, how are we so sure these records all belong to Cathra?”
“The handwriting matches that of her own.” The Lord Commander gestures to another of his squires, who flips open the second, smaller chest. “These are records taken from her own office, written by her own hand and stamped with her own seal.”
“Permission to examine, milord?”
“Granted.”
The captain of the East Gate rises and steps down the podium to examine the documents, his golden cloak fluttering above his shoulders. As he passes, Kyros catches him giving Cathra a wink, but the ex-captain pretends not to have seen.
Everyone watches as Captain Ralish strolls up to the first chest and topples it over with a push of his foot.
Kyros holds back a gasp. Piles of notes, scrolls, and maps come tumbling out from the depths of the chest, many times more than he imagined. A lot of the parchments look old, but some Kyros suspects have just recently been written.
Captain Maydan laughs. “Busy, busy indeed!”
With another push, Captain Ralish spills the contents of the other chest directly into the mess already on the floor.
Then, with everyone's eyes still on him, the captain plucks a few pieces of parchments from the pile at random.
“These are records of incidents that happened at the South Gate.” He tosses each parchment back into pile as he goes through them. “And these two seem to be maps of the underground slums, signed in the same hand.” He digs into the pile and produces more.
Then he stops, his expression changing.
“Nranhana have mercy,” he breathes, eyes wide. “This is a stock list of weapons.” He reads a few out loud. “200 darts, 50 sets of hidden blades, 500 vails of poision…” He turns to Cathra, horrified. “Cathra, you…”
“Save it for the throne, Danton,” Cathra replies coldly.
Captain Relish stands there stunned. Then he opens his hands, letting the parchments and notes flutter to the ground. What amicable expression he had for Cathra before seems to have vanished entirely. “As you wish then,” he says and turns away in a flurry of gold and yellow.
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“Fellow captains,” he says once back on their side. “It is true. Both stacks show Cathra’s own writing. I could not distinguish one from the other.”
Captain Maydan chuckles. “Who would’ve thought the clever Woman Captain could have made such a silly mistake, as to write her incriminating plans in her own hand!”
Next to him, Kyros hears Cathra muttering, “Who would’ve thought indeed.” He glances towards her direction and finds her looking back at him, her face taut with chagrin.
“Pardon my rudeness, Captain Relish, but I find that hard to believe,” Sir Gregorn Tigarn speaks up. “Lord Commander, please allow me to examine every piece of parchment that is in those chests!”
“We do not have the time for that,” the Lord Commander informs the old knight. “Captain Relish has already declared it to be valid. It is time for us to hear what the defendant has to say.” The Lord Commander’s gold-speckled eyes flicker across the two kneeling before him. “Cathra Stelias. Your defense.”
Cathra stands, leaning on her crutch for balance. She is still in the heavy linen bandages the healers did for her last night, and Kyros can still see parts of it coming out from beneath her loose-fitting doublet. She is not wearing her dragon-scale vest and sports no sigil or cape, but to Kryos she is no less a knight.
“Captains, Lord Commander,” Cathra begins, “as you see before you, we have vanquished the great evil that has been plaguing our city. It was a battle I barely won. If the twin goddesses were not watching over us last night, then there would not be a trail today as we’d already be dead. The fact that Nranhana and Sharn have given us a chance to stand before you and testify, should be proof enough of the righteous justice in our hearts.”
“You bring the Lord Commander a scrap of cloth and a parasol and call it a Blood Devil,” counters Captain Relish. “You overestimate our benevolence, Cathra, and patience.”
“That was never our intention, Captain Relish, I assure you.” Cathra’s voice seems to grow weaker with each sentence, as if she has always expected the situation to turn out like this and is just going through the motions. “We battled the Blood Devil by trapping it using a formation of Sun Sigils. It worked to great effect, though I must’ve used too much force in the killing blow because all that remained of the monster afterward were her dress and weapon.”
“Hah!” Captain Maydan barks out a laugh. “Weapon?” He picks up the umbrella by the Lord Commander’s throne. “And how, pray tell, does one use a parasol in battle, Lady Knight?” He tosses it at Cathra. “Like this?”
The umbrella spins sideways through the air, slow enough that Kyros is certain that she will catch it. But Cathra lowers her head and lets the umbrella bounce off her with a thwack.
Kyros shoots to his feet. “That was uncalled for!”
The knights guarding the podium stairs are on him instantly. Ten iron-tipped spears point right at his face, but Kyros doesn’t even see them.
“Lord Commander,” he says, fighting to keep his voice steady, “we may not have produced the proof that you want, but it is my duty as a Kesrockian Knight to stand up for my captain, and I would like to remind you that Cathra Stelias is one of the smartest and most resourceful captains you have and should be addressed with the respect she deserves.”
A minute of silence follows; the only sound coming from the shuffling and clinking of armor as the knights keep their weapons trained on Kyros. The Lord Commander does not stand them down this time, but Kyros does not back down either, even with Cathra yanking on his arm.
Then in the calmest tone, the Lord Commander says, “It is only because of your father’s heroic sacrifice for our kingdom that I will let you off for such an outburst, Kyros Argonston. I will remind you that Cathra is no longer a captain or a knight. Neither are you, for that matter.”
Kyros grits his teeth. My father will turn in his grave to see such twisted justice.
“Permission to speak freely, my lord.”
“You may, but consider this your defense, Kyros, for the both of you.”
Kyros takes a deep breath and thinks hard about what he can say. There is already a pile of evidence against Cathra. Forged or not, it matters little when one of the Captains has already claimed it to be legit.
He glances back. You’re right, he wants to say to Cathra. There is no way to clear your name, not after this.
But still I must try.
“Lord Commander and my Captains,” he begins, turning to the throne once more. “As you may well know, I came to Kesrock while I was still a child. My father, Bendric ‘The Bold’, thought that living amongst the greatest knights in Gandolia might toughen me up and teach me the chivalrous ways of being a man. I was fortunate enough to be taken in by the Kesrockian Knights and trained in this very building, and as per my father’s wishes, I ended up taking up the helm and donning the Griffons of the South Gate.”
He pauses to look each captain in the eyes, ending with the Lord Commander.
“There were times in my life when I thought of leaving. But I never did. And it because of one simple reason.” He wants to look back at Cathra but stops himself.
Two, actually.
“I believe in the Knights,” he says, putting all the conviction he has into these next words. “I believe in the integrity and honor of our banner. And it is this belief that has kept me here all these years.”
“You have made your point, Kyros,” the Lord Commander says. “You are here to argue for Cathra’s loyalty, not your own.”
“Then why don’t we ask the citizens of the South Gate?” Kyros offers. “Go out there and ask anyone, and I’m willing to bet my life they’ll have only good things to say about her.”
Sir Gregorn Tigarn nods in agreement. “I second this activity.”
“I do not,” says Captain Ralish. “What would that accomplish, other than waste time? You can ask any person in any sector and I wager they’ll come up with something good about any of us.” He looks pointedly in Captain Maydan’s direction. “No matter how little they’ve actually seen their captain.”
The drunk captain rubs a hand across his bald, shiny head.
“I have heard enough.” The Lord Commander lifts his sword an inch above the ground and drops it down ringing. “Captains. It is now time to cast your votes. Those who deem Cathra Stelias guilty of High Treason shall say so now.”
“Aye,” says Captain Maydan.
Captain Ralish seems to think for a second. "Aye," he says finally, grimacing from the word.
“Nay!” croaks Sir Gregorn Tigarn. He pushes himself up from his seat. “In all my days as a knight in Kesrock, I have never seen such cruel and blatantly misjudged treatment of one of our own!”
“Remember yourself, Captain Tigarn,” the Lord Commander orders. “You sit on the seat of a captain, so speak not as a knight but a man worthy of being here.”
“Yes sir, I am a captain,” Sir Gregor Tigarn agrees. "And I plan on serving this seat to the end of my days. But as for the chairs you two are sitting in…” He turns to the other two captains. “I have lived long enough to see them re-filled more times than you can imagine. Do not think you’ll hold them for long if this is how you plan on serving this city!”
Captain Maydan leaps to his feet. “Is that a threat!? Lord Commander, you hear him! This old haggard is threatening me!”
“Silence!” The Lord Commander’s voice drowns out them all. “I will not have you acting as children. Be seated, sirs, or I will have you bound to them. Captain Tigarn, if it is your wish to join our convicts down there, I will not stop you. But if you do, do it quickly.”
Sir Gregorn Tigarn sighs and staggers back into his chair, frustration marking his weathered features.
“The Gates have spoken,” the Lord Commander declares, lifting his sword. “With goddesses and men as my witnesses, Cathra Stelias, you have been found guilty of High Treason.” The great double-handed sword crashes down onto marble, thundering the decree across the walls.
“No…” Kyros feels his knees go weak. “This… cannot be.”
All that we’ve done. Was it all for naught?
“Stand, Cathra.”
Kyros feels Cathra coming forward to stand next to him. The knights guarding the throne step back, though their spears remain pointed at them.
“Under normal circumstances,” says the Lord Commander. “You will have no other sentence but death. However, given your long servitude to our city, I have decided to offer you a chance to redeem your soul in the eyes of the goddesses.”
Cathra holds up a hand. “There’s no need for that, my lord, for I shall be choosing death.”
Kyros whirls on Cathra, about to call her insane, but it seems Sir Gregorn beats him to it.
“You will forfeit your life over this, Cathra?” the old man demands incredulously. “Nay, child, nay I say!”
“I will rather die an honest woman,” answers Cathra, standing straighter on her crutch, “than admit to sins I never committed.” Her eyes burn like tempered steel.
Captain Maydan chortles. “Stubborn to the very end. Can’t say I’m surprised, frankly.”
The Lord Commander nods. “Admirable, but ultimately very selfish, Cathra. Will you also throw away the life of your accomplice in your attempt to remain innocent in the eyes of the public?”
Cathra freezes. “What… What do you mean, accomplice?” She turns to Kyros, realization dawning. “No, no this isn’t right. My only wish was for him to show you his drawings, nothing more!” She rushes forward, pushing against the many spears holding her back. “Lord Commander, Kyros has done nothing wrong. I beseech you, have mercy on him!”
When the Lord Commander responds, his voice is cold enough to freeze the air.
“Kyros, I believe your captain requires a reminder as to the contents of our wager.”
“I am to face the same punishment as Cathra,” Kyros replies mechanically, “for failing to prove her innocence.”
Cathra’s eyes widen. “You fool!” she hisses. “You bloody, stupid fool!”
Kyros looks away, not wanting to meet Cathra’s wrath.
The Lord Commander clangs his great sword again. “Your choice, Cathra. By sunrise tomorrow, you will go to the north together, or die on the gallows together. Your choice.”
Cathra’s shoulders slump as what little fight left in her goes out. Clutching her crutch, she turns slowly to face the throne. “If I just plead guilty to what you are accusing me… then we can both go?”
The Lord Commander opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off when the doors to the sovereign hall crank open, their hinges screaming.
“Who dares interrupt this hearing?” He demands.
Kyros hears the voice before he sees the person. But from just the first words, he already knows who it is.
“Beg pardon, Lord Commander, but I think I should be present at this hearing, for sure.”
Kyros turns around, feeling the pit of his stomach drop as he watches Sir Jernal Kanson walking towards them.
“I was the one who accused her after all. For sure.”