Jiron shrugs.
Then the man’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why?”
From behind them, a voice says, “It’s because he is the challenger.”
Turning, they see Lonn entering the room.
“You know him?” the man behind the desk asks.
“You could say that,” he says. “They gave me a beating last night.”
Laughing, the man behind the desk says, “I see.” Taking Jiron’s pouch, he upends it on his desk and counts the contents. One of the gems from the cavern under the Merchant’s Pass is in among the silver and coppers. Picking it up, the man examines it and asks, “Where did you get this?”
“I found it some time ago,” he replies. “It’s my hedge against adversity.”
Nodding, the man says, “Do you want to include this in with your wager?”
“Yes,” replies Jiron.
“Very well,” he says. “With the gem you have seventeen golds and five silver. Is that the sum you wish to wager?”
“The gem’s worth more than fifteen golds,” he objects.
“Maybe so, but that’s all I’m appraising it for here and now,” the man says.
“Very well,” agrees Jiron.
The man takes out a piece of paper and after annotating the amount, signs it before sliding back across the desk to Jiron. “If you win, this piece of paper is worth a hundred and seventy five golds. If you fail to win, you lose,” he says.
Taking the paper, he says, “Deal.”
“Good luck tonight,” the man says.
“Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” he replies.
To the guard, the man behind the desk says, “Show them out.”
“Come on,” the guard grunts as he leads them back down the hallway. At the table, he pauses a moment while they collect their weapons and then opens the door for them. Once outside, the door shuts behind them and they hear the bar being placed against the door.
“Still over an hour before the fight,” Fifer says.
The sun has just cleared the horizon and the shadows are deepening. “Let’s get a small bite to eat,” suggests Jiron.
“Alright,” agrees Fifer.
They leave the courtyard where in just a short while Jiron will be facing a champion said to have the habit of leaving his opponents dead.
Chapter Seven
The room in which the Royal Court meets is large. Upon a throne across the room from where he enters, James sees a regally dressed man of middle years sitting upon an ornate throne. A simple golden crown sits upon his head. That must be the King of Cardri.
In lesser chairs flanking him on either side are six other individuals, three to a side. These must be the other members of the Royal Court. Whether they’re here to advise or are part of the ruling body he isn’t sure.
The officious man leads him forward to stand before the King. The room is full of onlookers, all but a very few are dressed in garments the cost of which would enable a poor man to live a year. All eyes are upon him as he’s led forward.
“Your majesty,” the officious man announces once he’s come to a stop. “May I present, the mage known as James.”
James stands straight and gives the king a deep bow.
“We appreciate you coming with such alacrity to our summons,” the King says.
“I would not wish to keep your majesty waiting,” he replies.
“Indeed.” The King stares at James in silence for a moment, as if he’s taking his measure. Behind the king, stands a man in robes. As the silence mounts, James suddenly feels the familiar tingling sensation which heralds another doing magic in the vicinity.
Eyes flicking around the room, they finally settle upon the man standing behind the King. James figures him to be some sort of court magician or wizard. In a world where magic is practiced, it would make sense for a monarch to have one at his side. James refuses to take the bait and keeps his magic still.
“What are you, sir?” the King finally asks.
Startled at the question, James asks, “Your majesty?”
“There have been many strange tales told of a rogue mage traveling our kingdom,” he says. After pausing a moment he then adds, “And abroad. Stirring up mischief and if the tales are to be believed, killing at will.”
“I have killed no one who has not tried to kill me first,” insists James. “I have never initiated any hostilities against anyone.”
“So you do admit to the taking of lives?” the king asks.
“Well, yes,” admits James. “But only in self defense. I am a peaceful man, wishing only to be left alone.” The wizard behind the king whispers something in his ear and James can see the king nod in response to what was said.
“You have been summoned here to answer the charges laid before us,” the King explains. He turns his head and nods to the side where a guard stands before a closed door. Opening the door, the guard steps inside briefly before returning with two other people.
James gasps when he sees a person dressed in the garb of the Empire walk through. The other man is similarly dressed.
“This is Ambassador Arkhan of the Empire,” the King says as the man comes forward. Ambassador Arkhan looks with hatred at James as he approaches the members of the court. “He has laid charges against you of the gravest sort,” continues the King. “Ambassador?”
“Thank you your highness,” the ambassador says as he gives the King a deep bow full of flourishes. Standing aright again, he points to James and says, “This villain has killed wantonly within the Empire. He has hurt and degraded one of our most prominent nobles and has completely destroyed an entire island, the act of which ended the lives of thousands of our citizens. We ask that he be given to us to be taken back to the Empire!”
James stares at the man, then turns to look at the King. A snicker can be heard from the group of onlookers and he quickly glances to the source and he’s shocked to see Lord Colerain there. The satisfied look upon his face makes James’ blood go cold.
“How do you plead to these charges?” the King asks.
Plead? he thinks to himself. On the face of it, guilty. I did in fact do all those things, but not in the context this Ambassador is stating. He stands there in indecision while the entire court stares at him. Never good in the spotlight, his anxiety begins mounting and his stress level increases.
Stammering, he says, “Did I destroy an island? Yes, I did.” Around the room, those watching the proceedings gasp in surprise. “I and a friend went there to rescue another who had been captured during the Empire’s sacking of the City of Light. We were rescuing him from slavery.” A murmur can be heard running through the crowd at his words.
“As far as hurting and degrading a prominent noble, that would have to be Lord Cytok.” At that the King’s eyes widen slightly in surprise. “He took several of our traveling companions captive and was in the process of torturing them. We rescued them as well.”
“Enough of his lies!” the ambassador exclaims. “He has confessed the guilt with his own words your highness and we demand justice.”
“But your majesty,” exhorts James. “None of what I’ve done has been done in malice or with the intent to hurt anyone. It was the Empire’s actions which caused me to do what I did, just to survive!”
“Impertinence!” shouts the Ambassador. “The Empire demands that he be given over to us, now!”
“Demands?” the King says back to the Ambassador with an edge to his voice. “You are in no position to demand anything, Ambassador. We shall not be rushed into judgment on this matter.” Turning his attention to where James is standing before him, he asks, “As for you, James. This will not be decided here, today. We must consider all aspects before rendering our judgment. Will you give us your parole not to flee until this matter is settled?”
As James is about to answer, he feels the tingling sensation suddenly spike. The robed man behind the king is staring intently at him. “Yes, your majesty. I shall not leave Cardri until at such time this is resolved.”