“Cyciphos, you intimidated both royal staff and heroes into compliance, intentionally ignoring warnings from our advisors. You were aware that your actions were inappropriate and would cause social and political discord. You understood that summoning the heroes in our absence would be a betrayal of our trust and our Kingdom; no current threats existed to justify your actions.”
The throne room was dead silent. All the court, advisors, staff had been waiting for hours, hungry, tired, and impatient. All for this.
“You are no longer fit to represent Amnasín’s alliance with Kovateli. I will render our Union invalid by the end of the day.”
Protests came from Cyciphos, who was out of Hallvar’s view. They stopped abruptly. Hallvar hoped it was a heart attack, but it was probably just a silence affliction.
The crowd talked amongst themselves. This verdict rendered the alliance with Kovateli invalid as well, which had vast political implications. Not to mention that the two long-standing royals unofficially divorced in front of an audience.
“We are not finished,” the Queen declared to the surprise of many present.
Hallvar knew what was coming, and they were dreading it.
“We established that heroes are the property of the Kingdom, to be protected by the Kingdom. You were aware of this, Cyciphos. As such, the testimony of your treatment of the Hero Hallvar will determine whether you remain a free man or if you are sent through Exile’s Pass to return to Kovateli.”
Cool. Cool, cool, cool. No pressure whatsoever on Hallvar. Nope. None at all.
“I recognize that this trial has extended longer than is fashionable. All remaining testimony concerning the hero may be given from your current seats or standing, if you please. Hero Hallvar, to the front.”
They stood, steeling their nerves as many, many eyes watched Hallvar make their way forward. Pipkin eyed her beastmaster curiously, but she was preoccupied by something that looked like a walnut. Gluttonous little thing.
As they stepped into the open expanse in front of the throne, they spotted several familiar faces.
Cyciphos, of course. Fuming from a seat offsides, flanked by two armed guards. What, did the Queen think Hallvar would rush him?
Wait, no, it was probably to keep Cyciphos from acting out. Right.
Anton, Viktor, Stella. Not seated together, but close enough that Hallvar caught a glimpse of them.
Kiran. Kiran? Oh, no. Hallvar would get a fucking earful after all this.
And, of course, the Queen.
They were unable to see much except her head and the throne from their seat, but up close, she was poised with great authority. Hallvar had to admit the reclining unicorn sculptures were pretty cool in context.
And her dress was really lovely. Dark purple with golden sleeves, brocade down the front edges. The former-girl in Hallvar’s mind wanted to touch it, but current-Hallvar didn’t want to die.
“Hero Hallvar, you were accused of assaulting Princess Citarina, for which Cyciphos ordered an execution. When your identity as a hero was discovered, Cyciphos offered servitude under Oath or death. Is that correct?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
In their periphery, Hallvar caught sight of the King-Consort twitching at their polite deference. Yeah, get fucked, idiot.
“Were there any witnesses to your alleged assault of Citarina?”
Hallvar wasn’t entirely sure where this question was going, but they answered.
“Kind of? To the accident that was reported as assault, not really. But most of the heroes – notably Leon – and several knights were present.”
When prompted, they explained the entire ordeal from top to bottom. Getting run off the road, throwing a rock, hitting the princess, system activation, so on and so forth.
“You mentioned an inability to communicate. How long did that last?”
“A month? Two months? I’m not entirely sure. Part of it meant I couldn’t process numbers or time very well.”
“As a lone adventurer, you were able to find an isolated royal and receive the blessing required to gain the ability to communicate. All without outside guidance or the system?”
Hallvar sighed, closing their eyes for a moment. “Your Majesty, with your permission, I can make this discussion a lot faster.”
“By all means, if you have information to provide.”
The 5th hero turned around, finding the advisors in the front.
“Ser?—” Hallvar began, looking directly at the vode advisor. Anton nodded subtly in approval directly to the left.
“Ser Windhelm, will you please read out my [ unique skill ]? They won’t believe me, but they might believe you.”
The advisor stood. “Your Majesty?”
The Queen waved her hand in simple approval.
“[ unique skill: bad luck boon ],” the advisor read from hir seat, voice rising steadily in disbelief. “Each time you experience misfortune, you have a small chance of increasing your luck attribute by 1?”
The audience was incredulous, quietly arguing amongst each other about how that couldn’t possibly be true.
Hallvar continued, used to being doubted. It would feel weirder if they all automatically accepted this as the truth.
“My base luck was 2, surprisingly. My current luck is a 6.”
Hallvar had to wait for the crowd to quiet down before continuing, watching the Queen with stubborn patience. “Ser Windhelm probably didn’t notice that last time ze checked, since ze was looking for proof of being a hero, not anomalies.”
Their point was further down the metaphorical road.
“I used to be a scientist before – in Aestrux, you would say I was a naturalist with physician-type education, a scholar certainly. I may be ignorant here, but I’m not stupid. I can pick up on patterns. There is no way to test my hypothesis; however, I believe that a ridiculously high luck, like mine, gives the system the ability to interfere with my life.”
The system shook its disapproval at the intentional inaccuracy, but Hallvar ignored it. They weren’t done explaining.
“I’ve been repeatedly informed by the system that luck affects the world to benefit me. Benefit. As shitty of a hand as I’ve been dealt, it’s hard to see exactly where that happened.”
They squared their stance, remembering not to lock their knees.
“But! I nearly died on a quest, leading me to seek help along the exact road where the exact fucking carriage was. The one that almost ran me over a month prior. And it did it again. I was exactly angry enough to throw a rock at a moving carriage, to hit a tiny-ass window, to hit a petulant little girl, who “blessed” me that her father be merciful.”
Hallvar was beyond formalities now. They were still pissed at the system for this chain of stupid events. The rage would linger for years.
“Every person here can choose to believe that I assaulted the princess on purpose. But as idiotic as ‘the system did it to provide me the ability to communicate’ sounds, it’s the truth.”
“You believe that you are innocent, then?” The Queen asked, showing actual mercy by ignoring the improper language.
Hallvar shook their head in exasperation. “Innocent, no. I hit a child with a rock, and I didn’t get the opportunity to apologize or earn forgiveness.”
“Scholar Johannes, can you read Hero Hallvar’s previous statement on the matter? The statement about the bird.”
The 5th hero had gone through too much trauma in the last couple of days to remember exactly what was said, but they were less mortified than they should have been when it was read aloud in front of a large audience.
“I hit her, but in the same way a seabird intends to shit on a sea captain. It was coincidence, not malice.”
A snort came from behind Hallvar. They just knew it was from Kiran without even looking.
“That sounds like me,” the hero said, as neutrally as they could.
“Windhelm, you suggested that this statement showed a lack of wicked intent, correct?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Wicked intent is required in matters of law where there is suffering or physical harm. I believe that there were no lasting damages to pursue as a criminal offense, nor did the hero have wicked intent in their actions. Coincidence, as they stated, with the cost of a minor healing potion and a broken carriage window.”
The Queen nodded, dismissing the advisor from the conversation.
“As the Princess did not report an injury to us, we believe there were no immediate repercussions from this event. Therefore, Hero Hallvar is commanded to pay the cost of a minor healing potion and for repairs to the carriage window, which will be deducted from the hero’s wage.”
Hallvar blinked, slightly stunned, as the Queen posed a question to the audience. “Is this acceptable to the people?”
The crowd answered in varied agreement; the few dissenters knew better than to speak up.
“Is that it?” Hallvar asked, confused at how quickly they were cleared of charges.
“We established that your crime was not worth the price of execution or forced servitude. The degree of which Cyciphos willfully mistreated you will determine his fate.”
That sounded like a lot of confessing in Hallvar’s future.
“We have received reports from the court concerning your treatment; however, we feel that the people will understand the severity more from your personal testimony, Hero Hallvar.”
“Oh,” the 5th hero grumbled.
After an awkward silence. “Do I have to?”
The Queen betrayed no emotion but Hallvar suspected she was probably annoyed given the circumstances. “If you want justice, yes.”
The royal spent the better part of this day – the same day she returned to her kingdom – arguing with and divorcing her husband. Her ability to rightfully exile the Kovatelli prince hinged on a single hero’s backbone.
Hallvar barely resisted looking back to their friends, their newfound family, knowing that it might draw more attention to their camaraderie than was necessary.
They rubbed the back of their neck, talons catching on the metal medical device hidden under their hairline. Right. The injury that made everyone concerned about a potentially permanent disability. Cyciphos did that.
“I'm going to swear the whole time, Your Majesty.” Hallvar stated bluntly, rolling their neck and taking on what they imagined was an at-ease stance.
If it worked for military back home, it would probably work here. It would keep their hands busy; the urge to flex and realign bones came with every flare of rage. The gesture was more threatening than Hallvar intended.
“Is it necessary?”
“For my sanity, yeah. Your Majesty.”
“If you must.” The Queen permitted the inappropriate comportment, a small gesture of her fingers. She could tolerate rude behavior if it meant getting to the point.
The at-ease didn’t feel right. Hallvar brought their arms forward and crossed them. Ah, that was more comfortable, despite having to shift their fingers to keep talons in a good spot.
Everyone was waiting on them.
Fuck.
“Before I was arrested, I spent my time with the guild. It gave me a lot of freedom that, if I’m honest, it sounds like the other heroes were not able to experience. Not being able to communicate was fucking terrible, but with the help of the guild, I made it work.”
“After my run-in with the princess, I learned that Cyciphos tended to give out harsh punishments in your absence, Your Majesty, so I did not come forward with my guilt or crime or whatever.”
“You learned that information from Ser Kiran the Unyielding, who you spent time with.”
The audience whispered with this revelation.
Hallvar was momentarily shocked, trying to figure out how she knew that. It wasn’t like the hero told anyone; the guildmaster and the Court Mage already knew. The 5th hero glanced backwards, as if to look for Kiran’s approval.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
The Queen graciously provided an answer. “Ser Kiran provided a letter shortly after you were imprisoned, insisting on your innocence.”
But who told her?
“Yes…” Hallvar continued, unsure of their metaphorical footing. “Kiran took me in immediately after I gained the ability to communicate. That may explain a lot about me, or so I’m told.”
Hah! That was a flicker of emotion on the Queen’s face. So, she liked Kiran, huh?
“Leon remembered me from the princess issue and he wanted to seek justice on behalf of the royal, so he tried to have me arrested. My guildmates refused to let him touch me. There was a minor squabble, which was honestly fucking embarrassing for Leon, and he left after Sivanos convinced him it wasn’t worth it.”
Some small sounds came from behind Hallvar, where the heroes were sitting. Hopefully Leon was being held back by Sivanos again. Would be much more entertaining to call him a Final Fantasy knock-off to his face.
Hallvar added on another detail, “Met Gryphon there too, but no one knew who I was.”
“The arrest, Hero Hallvar.”
“Right, the point is that Leon already hated me, so I think we both went straight home from Claylake Post. My guess is that he ratted me out immediately to win points with Cyciphos, who saw an opportunity to exert control or something.”
“Win points?”
“A saying from my world, Your Majesty. It’s like to gain favor but implied to be pointless. I mean, without any reason. Leon was doing the thing for imaginary points in a game no one else was playing, so they’re meaningless.”
Leon couldn’t let that go. “This is absurd, Your Majesty! I—”
“Your moment of testimony is over, Hero Leon.” The Queen stopped his tirade without further consideration.
Hallvar turned slightly to the side where Leon stood and casually itched their face. With their middle finger.
The talon left a shallow scratch where Hallvar was careless but – talk about meaningless gestures that only mattered to Leon. The injury was worth it.
“Cyciphos refused to listen to anything from anyone. I wasn’t able to give my side of the story other than the quote about the seabird.” Not their finest work but if that was how they went down in royal history, so be it.
“He kept silencing me. Since I wasn’t being fucking heard, I decided to change tactics. As soon as my status as a hero was confirmed, I began intentionally aggravating Cyciphos.”
The Queen narrowed her eyes. “To what end?”
Hallvar shrugged. “It was a gamble based on his personality. Leon mentioned that the Adventurer’s Guild probably corrupted me, which stuck in Cyciphos’ mind. I… know that Cyciphos has a long-standing hatred of the guildmaster, and with his vindictive nature, I figured the guild would be the next target Cyciphos aimed at. If I gave in to his demands, he would use me as an excuse to damage the guild.”
“I thought if I could enrage Cyciphos enough about his lack of power regarding the heroes, he would be so fixated on converting me to ‘his side’ before you arrived home, Your Majesty, that he would forget that he wanted me or the guildmaster dead.”
The hero waved a hand in a declarative gesture. “Which, he was. Cyciphos kept calm during the first few days but he was fucking frantic by the end of it, when your caravan drew closer to the kingdom.”
“You counted on our unannounced return for your survival?” The Queen asked, stating the question for the audience rather than her own knowledge.
The 5th hero’s sudden visit to Khenok, half naked and bleeding, was more than enough evidence to support that fact.
“At the time, I had Luck 6 and Endurance 18, Your Majesty. It worked in my favor.”
The Queen tilted her head slightly, a moment of realization arriving. “You are the Endurance Hero.”
“Probably the Luck Hero, too, but not naturally.”
“Therefore, you gambled by enduring torture.”
A mutter passed over the crowd. This was the first moment in the trial the word torture was used unequivocally.
Hallvar could sense the question before it was asked. Torture? Explain it. In detail.
They rolled their neck, trying to latch onto why they hurt so much without delving into an emotional rollercoaster. Partitioning the quivering, barely managed trauma behind a mental fence was difficult, but not unreasonable.
This was a public place and Hallvar would not have a fucking breakdown publicly. Not in front of Cyciphos.
“Fuck. Fine. I hear them asking. Will one of the physicians explain what this is?” Hallvar removed the metal device from their neck, holding it out without looking for someone to take it.
The Queen nodded, though she did not break her line of sight from Hallvar’s. The 5th hero was fluctuating between staring down the royal lady or looking at the unicorn adornment just above her head on the throne.
From their right, someone took hold of the object. “A focused brace. It is used to promote healing of severe injuries over a sustained period. This type of brace is intended for injuries of the neck and spine.”
Hallvar nodded, continuing with a slightly bitter tone. “I wasn’t able to get details from your physicians here, as Cyciphos made it very difficult for me to interact with others, but a physician in Khenok informed me that I had – have? – a fractured vertebrae that should have resulted in permanent disability.”
A few whispers came from behind them about Khenok, though they were shushed immediately.
“We’ll chalk up that near miss to my fucking luck, but I would like to note for the court that it was the first injury I received under Cyciphos’ ‘care,’ which went unattended for days.”
Hallvar was rapidly getting angrier. Having to recount these moments just pissed them off about how shitty of a royal Cyciphos was. If they were less lucky, they would probably be dead multiple times over from Cyciphos’ treatment alone.
If the heroes were property of the kingdom, then Cyciphos basically threw a glass vase into a trunk and shook it around a bunch, hoping it would be intact afterwards. Like slamming a sword edge-first into a rock over and over again, expecting it to be sharp when the beating stopped.
“I refused to bow to the King-Consort during the judgment, which multiple people witnessed. Cyciphos took that personally and put me in a pillory for the day, changing it to a lower height out of malice, which is when the injury happened. I spent most of the time trying not to choke to death while falling unconscious from blood pooling in the wrong places.”
“There was no seat?”
Hallvar squinted at the Queen, trying to understand her question. “Seat?”
“A pillory is engaged with a seat, so that the criminal is immobile but not forced to stand.”
The rumble of Hallvar’s rage was brought to a seething boil with this information.
“We don’t have pillories in my world, Your Majesty. Or we do, but they were outlawed hundreds of years ago. I’ve only seen them at festivals for entertainment. You’re telling me that there is supposed to be a fucking seat?”
Any doubts Hallvar had about laying bare their suffering were negated as they slowly turned their head to look at the King-Consort. Hallvar didn’t care what emotion the man had on his face; they just wanted to tear him apart.
“Hero Hallvar, continue.”
The 5th hero felt a sudden impact on their pauldron, light but present. Pipkin skittered to regain her grip and announced her arrival with a chirrup. She angled herself toward Cyciphos, letting out kuk’s and quaa’s to alert her beastmaster to danger, tail flicking furiously.
“Oh, you finished stuffing your cheeks so now you’ve decided to come to work?” Hallvar teased the akergryph quietly as she continued to fuss at Cyciphos.
The sounds were incredibly familiar to Hallvar. Standard squirrel fare from their neck of the woods, an alert to sudden danger that won’t go away – or sometimes the squirrel equivalent of get off my lawn!
“Shush,” the 5th hero said, gently wrapping their fingers around the creature and pulling her off of their pauldron. Pipkin relented, letting Hallvar drop their hand almost fully vertical before she scuttled up the laces of the arm guard, poised to protect once more.
It was like Hallvar was a tree trunk, an akergryph playground.
But at least she was quiet now.
“A Beastmaster Hero?” The Queen questioned.
Hallvar was ready for this, having heard the debate a billion times from cranky old Kiran. “It’s not that different than a Landwise First Knight.”
That amused the Queen. Good. “You lack the training to assert that claim.”
The sass was strong today. “Well, if your ex-husband doesn’t kill me, I have plenty of time to practice… Your Majesty.”
The Queen permitted the bold comment. “Continue with the topic at hand, Hero Hallvar.”
They didn’t want to go back to that discussion. The light banter and presence of Pipkin cooled their blood so they no longer wanted to actively destroy the King-Consort, but maybe the calm was a bad thing.
“Let’s see. Pillory for fractured vertebrae. Ah, right. Whipping next. Hurt like hell, could have been worse. In my world, we have records of people being whipped in ancient times until flesh was torn from the bone. Scars and still-sore muscles are fine in comparison.”
Hallvar thought for a moment, slightly oblivious to the chatter behind them. The heroes were of high rank naturally; a common punishment like whipping would be beneath them, insulting to their station.
“For what it’s worth, your soldiers did what they were ordered but they seemed… They didn’t say or do anything to indicate disapproval, but there was a reluctance. I don’t really know if anyone wants to whip someone el— no, I’m wrong and I’m not touching that.”
They rapidly moved on, trying to avoid explaining BDSM to a Queen.
“Fuck, what happened next? I lost track of time in between passing out and meditating. Isolation, I think, in one of the cells.”
That day truly was a whirlwind of lost time, hard to remember at all.
“Every time Cyciphos checked in, he would tell me to submit so the suffering would end. I would be a little shit in return, which caused him to alter the punishment, to make it worse. Surprisingly predictable and easy to manipulate.”
Was Hallvar so clever as to control Cyciphos’ reactions? Not consciously. But they did get a sense of satisfaction knowing that Cyciphos would hate the implication that he was easy to lead along a set path.
“He altered the arrangement so that instead of the options of execution or swearing an oath, it became torture or swearing an oath?”
“Yes?”
“Do you understand that, in similar circumstances, the options would be to stay the execution up to a day, so that the prisoner could consider their choice in isolation? In cases of conversion or assimilation of an enemy, torture has not been used for decades.”
Hallvar blinked at her, raising an eyebrow. “With respect, Your Majesty, you may need to set that counter down to zero.”
The Queen sighed, barely noticeable. She was like an expressionless porcelain doll whose rare movements were startling.
“Continue.”
The hero dreaded talking about the blixhund, as they were the worst of all the torments. Well, the finger removal was pretty bad, but it was over in seconds.
“I, uh, gained a small amount of magic while in isolation, which Cyciphos somehow knew, so I was put in the blixhund kennel for the night.”
“Most of the court only know of blixhund for their fur, Hero Hallvar. Explain your experience.”
They rolled their neck, now an obvious tell of the hero’s discomfort. It didn’t help that they were still literally uncomfortable, body sore and tired. Sleeping as a bird was restful but not healing.
With a grumble, Hallvar gave a miserable explanation. “Blixhund steal magic from your magic pool, which they then convert into electricity.”
“I don’t know how it works for others, but as a beastmaster, I have a skill that lowers my threat level to beasts. The blixhund warmed up to me like working dogs and frequently touched me to investigate my presence.”
This felt like being a TA again, telling fledgling ecologists not to touch the wildlife.
“On contact, they discharge the electricity, which is enough to painfully paralyze you. I don’t know how long. If you’ve had a leg cramp before, it’s a full-body version of that, but you feel like you’re on fire.”
The 5th hero sighed. Pipkin climbed up to their shoulder to provide birdy support.
“That, every fifteen to twenty minutes since they didn’t find beastmaster-me threatening, for an entire night.”
The lack of expletives had to be an indication of how serious and unnerved Hallvar was by the experience.
The Queen addressed her advisor. “Ser Morozov, you’re familiar with blixhund. Do you believe an entire night of exposure is productive in any capacity?”
Hallvar listened intently to the Court Mage, wondering what the Queen meant by her statement.
“No, Your Majesty. There is perhaps one case where blixhund may be necessary as a method of containment, but Hallvar does not meet any of those requirements. Blixhund are purely physical torture for magic-wielders.”
“And you received Hero Hallvar after this torture, correct?”
Anton answered, letting the hero slip out of the spotlight for a few seconds.
“Yes. They had exactly 1 health remaining. Judging by their mental state, they were forced to linger at that single point for hours. I used my spirit to heal them and allowed a physician to take them to the medical hall.”
The reprieve was helpful. Even though Hallvar still stood front and center, they could try and measure out their breathing and figure out what to say next, instead of grasping at straws.
“Were they shackled?”
“No, Your Majesty. They posed no threat at that moment – nor do I believe they posed a threat during the judgment. Cyciphos disagreed with my decision to assist the hero; he placed me in a dungeon cell.”
“Were you the only dissenter for the treatment of Hero Hallvar?”
“Myself, Commander Rask, and Advisor Windhelm informed Cyciphos that the treatment of the Hero was inappropriate. I believe that several physicians made written complaints to Kontou on the matter.”
The Queen went quiet, turning to a servant or scholar with a simple question. “Did I receive any notice from Ser Kontou upon our request regarding Hero Hallvar?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“Hrm,” came the royal disapproval.
She continued her assessment. “Ser Morozov, as you were placed in the dungeon, you were witness to the next torture of Hero Hallvar, is that correct?”
Right. Hallvar nearly forgot that Anton was there. How much did he hear?
“The hero was brought in from the medical hall and put in a secluded room of the dungeon. I was unable to hear any details of the exchange, but I know Cyciphos entered, there was a sudden scream, and Cyciphos left.”
“Hero Hallvar?”
Shit, did they dissociate? Well, given the brief disengagement from their feelings, Hallvar now knew what they wanted to say and how to say it. None of that woe is me, bullshit, not anymore.
“Apologies, Your Majesty. Does Aestrux have any necromancy or magic that requires a… an item from the target in order to control or curse them? It seems like it would be a curse thing. We have folktales of it in our world, using hair or blood to manipulate a victim.”
The Queen stalled, genuinely thrown by this line of questioning. “Ser Morozov?”
“I believe a harbinger mage could, possibly, use a taglock for cursing purposes, though it is not a standard practice.”
“Why do you ask, Hero Hallvar?”
The 5th hero smiled, that feral grin that suggested they knew exactly what they were doing.
“Although it’s hardly re-attachable now, I would like to have my finger back. Not to keep, but to burn. Cyciphos set it aside like a trophy, so you may need to convince him to part with it.”
The audience did not like that response. Several outraged cries were undercut by a general sense of unease. Hallvar had no idea what the people were saying, they had an uncomfortable ringing in their ears and a pressure in their throat.
Their resistance to panic was helpful, but not absolute.
While the Queen attempted to silence the crowd – non-magically, of course – Hallvar heard a ruckus from their left.
Cyciphos was on his feet. Apparently, the idea that he kept a trophy was too much for the fool, and he attempted to move toward Hallvar.
The hero failed to notice the Queen’s attention, nor did they see her signal the guards to let the former royal free. In fairness, only a few people in the room watched that exchange; the rest were in an outroar, calling for justice or blood.
As Cyciphos rushed toward Hallvar, Pipkin went on the defense. She fluttered in the way, shrieking and darting like an attack hummingbird.
It happened in slow motion. Hallvar had no real desire to fight the former King-Consort, not in front of everybody at least, but that wasn’t a decision fate allowed the hero to make.
Cyciphos moved as if to backhand the akergryph out of the way.
Adrenaline-fueled by sudden rage, Hallvar activated [ skill: bull rush ]. A strength 16 and agility 16 was plenty to beat the old soldier to action, latching onto his arm with fingers and talons.
Cyciphos reacted appropriately but poorly. Hallvar had no time to warn the idiot before he ripped his arm out of the hero’s grasp in disgust and anger.
Time seemed to flow normally as Cyciphos bled onto the white marble floor, dripping onto the remnants of old oil crayon markings missed by the servants. Another mess for them to clean, made by the same impatient old royal.
“Your Majesty,” Hallvar addressed the Queen slowly, flicking their wrist to clean their talons of blood. “Unless you wish to have an international incident, I suggest a healer tend to Cyciphos immediately.”
That jerking motion undoubtedly ripped Hallvar’s talons over muscle, tendons, and arteries alike. The royal was losing a lot of blood, quickly.
Several physicians rushed forward at the Queen’s request.
The Court Mage smiled wryly, stating that he was unfortunately out of magic.
Cyciphos would survive, but he was unlikely to fully regain use of that hand. Age was a detriment to immediate healing.
“Enough,” the Queen commanded, her tone angry. “This trial does not need to continue for our verdict.”
“For egregious abuse of kingdom property – the Hero Hallvar – you are placed in exile, Cyciphos of Kovateli. You will be sent to Teavale along the road eastward and are no longer welcome in the Capital. If your family chooses to send a caravan to transport you, they may, otherwise you are expected to be out of Amnasín by the end of the month.”
“Make the arrangements as necessary.” The order was widely given, staff spurred into motion.
The Queen was not finished, even as Cyciphos was taken away at the order of Commander Rask.
She made her second announcement to the entire room. “Court has ended, take your discussions elsewhere.”
Hallvar looked around, uncertain as the room emptied rapidly. The Queen’s irritation was not something any courtier wanted to suffer.
A hand clenched on their shoulder, pulling the hero into an empty seat.
The guildmaster.
“She’s not done with us.”
Kiran grinned at the adventurer from over the guildmaster’s shoulder, undoubtedly thinking of all the ways to hassle them later.
In the front row were comfortable, wooden backed chairs with plush pillows; nothing like the practical wooden benches where the heroes sat.
Hallvar tried to keep their attention on the discussion – both the Court Mage and the guildmaster approached the throne when prompted, Stella hovering at a professional distance – but they failed.
An attempt to rest their eyes turned into outright unconsciousness, Hallvar falling asleep as soon as adrenaline and stress left their body.
Maybe that was bad, but what were they going to do? Execute them?