In the study, under Doyle's watchful eye, Bernard pulled an austere feather pen, its quill flowing with pale golden ink, out from his bottomless white pouch.
He unfolded Count Reed's judgment on the study's desk and with the feather pen, striked out the entire third ruling, line by line, erasing all its text as though he was expunging history itself.
As the quill's marks faded and vanished, leaving a blank, Bernard sketched the crest of Victory's sword and shield over his heart. He then penned with devout conviction, "The viscount title shall pass to Seth Reed, the only remaining line of the Reed family, and one third of the northeastern territory shall be returned to the King of the Sacred Human Kingdom of Heracles."
Bernard’s verdict was a masterpiece in fence-sitting: Count Reed was convicted, satisfying the Church as represented by Bernard; a trim of one-third of the lands appeased the King; and finally, a lineage was preserved, fulfilling the Kingdom's inheritance protocols.
Contented smiles flickered across the room.
A shared jubilation embraced everyone, except one—Harold Reed, set to be hanged at the capital, who had transitioned from being catatonic to utterly panicked, yet still powerless.
For the first time in decades, Harold achieved a unparalleled feat solely on his own initiative—changing into clean trousers.
Walking past his earlier disgrace on the floor, he addressed the two knights guarding the door, "I wish to speak with the holy knights. Would you lead me to them?"
Before the modified decree could take effect, Harold stumbled to the study. The once exuberant crowd's spirits dampened at the sight of the unlucky chap.
No one took the soon-to-be-former Earl seriously, but frivolity seemed inappropriate, so a collective solemnity settled over the room.
Especially Seth, who had seen Harold grow up. A wave of pity involuntarily rose within him.
Yet, any sympathy was quickly quashed by Seth's steadfast resolve. Even a second before his ascension was confirmed, he wouldn't let his guard down.
Harold, met with a chilly reception at the doorway, asked with a tinge of hope, "May I spend the night in my own room?"
The silence was brief until Doyle announced boisterously, "Of course you may. After the announcement in the morning, we’ll head to the capital."
Having "escorted" the Earl back to his chambers, Bernard looked at the parchment on the desk, "The decree takes effect immediately, the capital's seen to our modifications, and we can proceed."
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
As if concerned Seth wouldn't grasp this, Bernard elaborated, "Given the Earl's crimes implicate both the crown and the church, the judgment is produced in triplicate: one for the kingdom's archives, one for the cathedral at the capital, and one here. Editing one syncs them all, and since there's no pushback, it means the church and the crown have no objections."
The news of the upcoming public decree spread fast, the sky darkening as anticipation grew among the citizens of Gath. They were curious; the city's elite was few, and only recently had they witnessed an execution. Now, they speculated who had drawn the ire of their betters.
The next morning, the square buzzed with anticipation. At nine sharp, the black and white armored knights marched in formation into the square. The commoners, unfamiliar with such grandeur, cleared a path.
With equal ranks in the kingdom and the church, Doyle and Bernard, side by side, took to the platform.
The silence was palpable as they recounted Harold Reed's crimes on behalf of their respective authorities. Even the socially prominent murmured amongst themselves, shocked that the Earl, viewed as nothing but a leech and indulgent sluggard, was implicated in a conspiracy of monolithic proportions.
With the crowd hushed, Harold's decree was publicly read. From that moment, his title and family status were stripped, reduced to a commoner with sins affixed.
Finally, they proclaimed the Reed family title downgraded to viscount, with Seth as the successor.
When the reading was done, brilliant light flashed from the parchment before it faded to nothing—a testament to its authenticity.
Those who knew Seth were taken aback. They’d regarded the steward, noted for his competence and character, as one of their own, even attempting to recruit him—all failing without exception.
Considering Seth now a viscount, albeit a lowered rank, he far exceeded their humble stations.
Ascending the platform alone, Seth bowed in all directions, swearing his indefatigable devotion to the church and undying loyalty to the kingdom. Led by Murphy's strategically placed supporters who started a round of applause, he stepped down alongside Bernard and Doyle, concluding the morning's events.
By noon, the would-be Viscount Seth embraced his new role, hosting a feast for the sacred knight and the captain of the black-armored guard. Seth raised a toast, reverently thanking both parties, earnestly wishing the former Earl and knights a favorable journey to the capital.
Bernard, ever the zealot, politely declined in favor of water.
Doyle, setting down his cup with visible confoundment, questioned, "Why wish 'us' a safe journey?"
Seth, a touch bewildered himself, replied, "Was there an issue with my words?"
The two exchanged a glance before Doyle slapped his forehead, "Slipped my mind! This afternoon, it’s not I, nor Bernard, who will escort the former Earl to the capital, but Bernard and his squad will take you and the former Earl there."
Surprised, Seth managed, "This is quite the news for last-minute. Might I inquire as to why?"
After another drink, Doyle explained, "The former Earl faces trial, and you, anointment by the King. Bernard’s the best choice for both tasks. While you’re in the capital, I’ll oversee the defenses and military in Gath, you see?"
Raises his glass, Seth acknowledged, "I understand."
The banquet concluded, a thoroughly inebriated Doyle was assisted by his men to rest. Meanwhile, Bernard's troupe readied themselves for travel to the capital.
Granting the former Earl maximum clemency, Bernard didn't shackle Harold or place him in a prison cart. After all, if a sub-level ten obese man could slip away from several dozen top-tier knights, that’d be the real shock.
So began Bernard's squad's journey from Gath's north gate, trailing both relief and dismay along the kingdom's road to the capital.