Today would be brief, he reminded himself. What followed after would take time, but the landscape they’d covered through Esarov’s pile of books gave Petronus confidence of the outcome.
Still, he paced.
He heard the noise beyond the door swell. That meant Erlund and his council of governors had entered the room. Next, the small bell in the corner of the room would ring and the silent guards seated at either side of the entrance would stand and escort him in.
You wanted a reckoning, old man. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind exactly, but Petronus was confident in the rightness of it. His mind had wandered back to that brief encounter with Charles in the market square. And at night, he dreamed about a library stretching deep underground, hidden in some forgotten corner of the Old World. If this reckoning of his could bring back so much of the light, his own personal outcome didn’t matter. And despite his strong confidence in what was to come, some part of him knew that it was a dangerous river he forded here. One misstep and he could find himself swept away.
The bell rang and the guards stood. When they opened the door and passed through, Petronus followed.
The council room was large and round, paneled with elaborately carved oak offset with gold fixtures and trim. The high domed ceiling was painted in themes of early Delta history with scenes from the First Settlers Congress and the signing of that document that guided the fledgling band of City-States into its prominence in the Named Lands.
The nine governors sat on a platform in an arrangement of seats and tables set up like a horse shoe; and set apart from them, centered in the open end of that U shape, stood the Overseer’s dias and upon it, a worn chair and table. Erlund looked up at him from that place and their eyes met.
The disinterest there spoke volumes, but Petronus was not surprised. He knows what is coming.
The Overseer wore his crimson prosecuting robe, and to his right, the prosecutor he’d selected-Ignatio in this case-dressed in similar fashion. Behind them, the governors wore black robes not terribly dissimilar from the robes of an Androfrancine. As Petronus scanned their faces it was not hard to pick out the four that had been chosen by Esarov’s democratic city states. They did not have the blank stoic regard of the others. Their faces spoke of purpose and pride rather than obligation, though in time Petronus wondered if that might fade as the newness of their roles wore off and as the reality of their work ahead on the Delta set in.
Esarov was the only person to stand as Petronus entered. He wore gray as befitting an advocate, and his long hair was pulled back and powdered. His spectacles gleamed in rays of sunlight that sliced into the room from high glass windows, and he nodded once at Petronus, his smile slight but confident.
Apart from these and a handful of others scattered throughout the observation balconies and the audience chamber, the massive room was empty. Guards stood at each of the doors.
Petronus forced his shoulders to straighten and walked to the empty chair beside his advocate. The two of them sat in unison as Erlund brought down a gavel.
Ignatio spoke. “The Governors’ Council of the United-City States of the Entrolusian Delta is petitioned to convene now in judicial capacity for the arraignment of Petronus, former Holy See of the Androfrancine Order and King of Windwir. The charge before you is murder and conspiracy to commit murder for the unlawful execution of Lord Sethbert, former Overseer of the United Entrolusian City-States.”
One of Erlund’s handpicked governors made the motion to convene; one of Esarov’s newly elected governors seconded. All men said “aye” when the question was called, and when they had Ignatio smiled and looked at Petronus.
“It is the position of the accuser that on the fourth of Anbar, during a closed council of bishops convened in the Ninefold Forest, Petronus-acting in his capacity as Pope-did summarily execute Sethbert without benefit of a trial as provided by the First and Second Settlers Congress of the Entrolusian Delta. Further, the accuser posits that Petronus, in collusion with Lord Rudolfo of the Ninefold Forest Houses, did subject the former Overseer to tortures and coercions forbidden under Entrolusian law and conducted its matters of prosecution without regard to common law and reasonable civility.”
Erlund yawned at the flatness of the recital and looked around the room. Petronus followed his gaze. Finally, the Overseer moved the proceedings forward. “The council will now hear the plea of the accused before establishing a date of trial.”
Esarov stood and Petronus stood with him. “Advocate defers to his client and presents him to council.”
Erlund nodded. “Proceed.”
Petronus took in the eleven men before him and pulled himself up to full height. “I choose no plea,” he said in a loud clear voice, “and offer instead a Declaration of Circumstance.”
The Overseer frowned, but Ignatio’s face was unreadable. Behind them, the governors’ faces were a mixed lot, though disinterest appeared most prevalent. Certainly, in Petronus’s mind that made a certain sense. Their own Overseer had been disinterested in this action; they had a nation to rebuild-one with changes looming that formed far more pressing matters. A system that had served Erlund and his family for generations now threatened to topple beneath a wave of democracy that even gave Petronus pause. “Make your declaration,” the overseer said.
Petronus made eye contact with him again. Then, he scanned the room and made eye contact with each of the governors seated before him. “In the circumstance of Sethbert’s execution, we declare it to have been a matter of Androfrancine procedure carried out in accordance with the original Articles of Kin-Clave by ourselves as Holy See and Monarch of Windwir upon confirmation of the accused’s guilt by his own mouth and without coercion, offered, observed and documented as such. We do not recognize the predominance of Entrolusian law in this matter, and we petition-as is our right by monarchy-for the case to be heard and decided by Council of Kin-Clave.”
Petronus wasn’t sure what he’d expected. In one of the dramas Esarov had once acted out upon the stage, at this point there would be indrawn breaths and shocked faces. But instead, his declaration sounded out into the nearly empty room, echoing slightly as it did.
Erlund sighed. Surely, Petronus thought, he saw it as a small price to pay for bringing his civil war to an end and reuniting his city-states beneath him. Now, it was simply a matter of establishing venue and waiting for the council to convene. As such, Erlund would become one voice among many as the heads of state came together to hear Petronus’s case and rule.
Certainly, it could still go badly. The war had rubbed kin-clave thin between many of the Named Lands’ houses and nations. But now the odds were with Petronus. And what came next would further establish those odds.
“Very well,” Erlund said in a dry voice. “This court recognizes kin-clave and your right as monarch to a trial before your peers. A date shall be established and arrangements shall be made to convene the Council of Kin-Clave that they might hear this matter.”
Petronus waited until the gavel was midway between the air and the podium before speaking again. “If it pleases his Excellency,” he said, “we would continue.”
Now Erlund looked surprised and interested suddenly. You didn’t see this coming, young pup. His eyes narrowed and he put the gavel down. “We apologize. We had believed you had made your declaration.”
“The Articles of Kin-Clave specify clearly that choice of venue falls to the accused,” Petronus continued, “that their protection might be assured by the hosting nation.”
Already, Ignatio’s fingers flew through an old volume kept beneath their table. He found a passage, passed the book to Erlund and pointed. Erlund nodded. “It is within your purview.”