Chapter Thirteen #2
“Step forward, Jaska Ashwish, and hear the charges that have been brought against you,” the sheriff called loudly, a scroll clutched in his hands, the sun glowing on the pale white vellum he held open.
Aelir sat forward again as the charges were read out loud.
Jaska shuffled forward, eyes on his wife, as the charges were read.
“Be it known that Jaska Ashwish has been charged with the most foul and treasonous deeds against the crown of Melowynn as well as the peace of the realm. He is charged with absconding with the heirs of the crown, doing so with malice aforethought did lay his hands upon his grace Prince Al’fur and her grace Princess Alfina, heirs of the sovereign lands of Melowynn and all of its provinces.
He did seize and bear away the prince and princess from their nursery and away from their rightful guardians, concealing them from the king’s men, thereby sowing dread and disharmony throughout the realm.
Thus, that such a wicked deed, Jaska Ashwish has committed high treason, for to steal the body royal before Ihdos and elf is to strike at the heart of the crown itself.
Therefore, by the laws and customs of Melowynn, Jaska Ashwish, you shall answer for these grievous misdeeds now to your king. What say you to these charges?”
“I am guilty of all charges the crown brings against me,” Jaska replied loudly, his sight locking on the king and the king only.
There was no malice there, just a forthrightness of conviction.
Masha began crying as did her son. Teryn stood behind them, jaw tight, shoulders squared.
He knew the ruling that the king would pass, as we all did.
Truly Aelir had no other choice but to pass a death penalty.
He’d been incredibly gracious a few years ago when one of the nobility had attempted to end his life.
She had been quite mentally unstable so now spent her remaining years in the dungeon while receiving medical care from the clerics.
His leniency in most matters of law was a large call against him by many in our lands.
They called him soft. I doubted the king of Melowynn would be soft today.
Treason was not a charge that got a slap on the wrist as some did for stealing pigs or drunken lewdness.
Treason had only one outcome when committed against the crown.
The sheriff closed his scroll, turned, and bowed to the king. “The prisoner claims guilt of all charges. You are now free to pass sentence, Your Majesty.”
I caught a small rustle among the nobles to my right.
Kenton and Beirich had arrived. The olive-skinned wood elf and his shifter husband, both quite skilled druids who ran a small school here in Celear, were now standing at the edge of a cluster of elderly matrons.
The old elves snubbed them but kept their comments to themselves as Kenton was a true and dear friend of King Aelir.
He had been his companion throughout the king’s childhood, and they were as close as brothers, green skin and long white braids notwithstanding.
To be honest, I was mildly surprised to see the druids in attendance since Kenton had voiced his objections to any kind of lethal sentencing with Aelir just last night in a rather heated manner.
The wood elves felt that matters of life and death were meant to be left in the hands of their goddess, Danubia.
Mortal elves, be they kings or bakers, were not divine enough to rule over such things.
Which is why they—and most of those who walk Melowynn—held necromancy in such low regard.
The king had been tired after spending several hours at the bedside of his dying grandfather, so the discussion grew loud until Beirich had stepped in to soothe things.
Watching Kenton as he waited, I then glanced at Aelir. The king had not missed the entry of his friend. His sight still lingered on the slim elf in the plain brown robes and bare feet of the druidic teachers, his husband wearing the same robes, only much larger ones.
“I would ask the prisoner if he has any last words before I make my decision,” Aelir loudly called to ensure he was heard at the back of the vast room. The king remained seated. Those in attendance grew still as temple mice as Jaska spoke.
“All I ask is that the head who wears the crown recall that it is the poor farmers, blacksmiths, bakers, fishermen, butchers, innkeepers, and merchants who keep the nobility in fine silk robes with matching satin slippers. It is the common elf who weaves, carves stone, cobbles fancy shoes, and barbers. The chandler, the brewer, the miller, and the fishmonger have long been forgotten in Melowynn, their backs bowed by the ever-increasing demands of the vill’s owners and the royals.
My actions were vile, yes, but they were just the spark to what will become a wildfire if the rich do not stop hoarding the wealth from the populace with dirt under their nails.
My treasonous act brought the attention of all of Melowynn to the plight of the indigents who work for meager coin and no respect.
That is all that I wish to say, Your Majesty. ”
Aelir rose from the throne. I took a step forward as he moved down the steps to stand face to face with Jaska.
The king was smaller, a slim man with the refined beauty of the nobles, but on this day, he seemed twice his size.
The prison guards took hold of Jaska’s arms. I slowly removed my sword from its scabbard as I placed myself beside my king.
Jaska did nothing but look down into Aelir’s burning gaze.
Those here leaned forward to see what the king in the gold, blue, and white robing of Melowynn would say or do.
I had no clue what Aelir was doing, but if Jaska so much as blinked, I would separate his head from his torso.
That was my duty, my vow, and I took it seriously.
“Do not come into the house of the elves of Melowynn—for Avolire belongs to every elf, from myself to the gong farmer—and speak to me of ignoring the poor. I have worked diligently since being crowned to bring change to this nation. Years of battling against outdated thinking, laws, and regulations that keep the hardworking elves under the silken slipper of the vill’s owners and elite.
” A small round of discontent moved over the crowd.
The powerful did not like to be called out in public or hear talk of their tight hold on coin and prestige possibly slipping away.
Aelir spoke true. He had made many revisions to as many laws as he could.
Fighting the rich was expensive, time-consuming, and curried him no favor among those who stood here now waiting with bated breath for a death verdict.
“Change takes time. I know that is not what you wish to hear, but that is the truth of the matter. I will continue to work for progress, but I will not brook anyone harming my family. You stole my children!”
The king’s roar echoed around the throne room. Jaska did not flinch nor reply. His wife wept softly as Teryn patted her shoulder, and her son curled on her lap with his face buried in her bosom.
Aelir shook his hair back, the gold mass falling to touch the back of his calves.
“I cannot allow anyone, be they fueled by righteous flame or not, to abduct members of the royal family. To that end, I sentence you to a life of hard labor in the mines of the Witherhorn. You are to be transported on the morrow and will live out your life deep underground with those of the dwarven rock gangs mining for ore and gems. You will never again see the light of the sun nor feel the fresh wind on your face. If you are noted to be slacking or you try to escape the tunnels, you will be struck down and left to feed the tunnel trolls that beleaguer the dwarves. I would spend this time saying goodbye to your wife and son as you shall not see them ever again.”
Teryn’s eyes flared.
“But, Your Majesty, we were hoping that—” I shook my head to quiet his words. Now was not the time to plead for leniency. The king had been gracious. Far more gracious than any other monarch would have been in his position. Teryn bit down on his lower lip as Masha wailed loudly.
“Take him to his cell,” Aelir snapped. “Lead his wife and son down to the dungeons. Give them fresh water, food, and seats. They have until the sun sets, then the lady wife and the boy are to be taken to the suite of Mahouk Nouradi, where they will stay until the ambassador leaves for the Black Sands and takes them with him.”
Aelir stalked back to his throne, threw himself onto it, and waved a hand at me.
I slid my sword into its scabbard and gave my men directions to clear the throne room.
The nobles hurried out, talking in whispers behind fans and hands, until the room stood clear of any save those on the dais.
The king, the queen, his consorts, Rolim, myself, Le’ral Fylson, and Kenton with his spouse.
“That decision was surprising,” Raewyn stated while easing her slippers off her feet.
“That decision will bring you no favors from the vill’s owners or the nobility of Melowynn,” Le’ral spoke out as he moved closer to the thrones. “You should have hanged the bastard. Crimes against the crown should be shown no mercy.”
“You acted in the light of the goddess,” Kenton added, padding up the steps to look up at his weary friend. “It is not for us to play with who lives and who dies. That is for Danubia to decide.”
Fylson sighed. “Yes, and while I understand your religious take on such things, there are times that demand a swift and deadly reply.”
I knew that Le’ral spoke from a place of pain. His lover for many centuries, the former king, had been poisoned by rebels, so he had little time for those who rose up against the crown.