Trial of Armendor Prelude

PRELUDE

One hundred stained-glass windows illuminated the interior of the cathedral, yet nearly twice that number of people was crowded inside. The dark foundations stones contrasted against the white marble tiled floor, and the baked clay shingles covering the roof. The only wood used in the interior were the large weathered rafters, of which a number of children had climbed up into, so they could see the spectacle over the crowd of adults. Even their parents had come on this unusually hot day, not to hear prayers, but to watch the trial.

Word of the day’s trial had traveled fast in BalHeim; nearly the entire mountain village’s populace, two hundred people, had filed into the large chapel well before dawn. Now, with the sun almost up, the crowd began to grow impatient. For the villagers of the mountain town of BalHeim the trial was a form of entertainment, and the possibility of an execution had the crowd past the point of curiosity and almost into an expected angered frenzy.

Lord August de BalHeim, baron of the town stood on a raised dais at one end, watching the rising sun fill the multicolored windows. As the sun crested the mountains to the east, the baron nodded at his guards and raised his arm. As he did, curtains were lowered over the windows, save one. The light from that single window illuminated a small chair on the platform, next to the baron, in hues of red, blue and yellow.

“Bring in the prisoner!” He shouted, reducing the crowd to mere whispers of eagerness. A side door slammed open against the wall, drawing everyone’s attention.

Through the archway they came, three figures barely visible in the dim light. Both of the guards wore full suits of armor and held a medium sized shield on their outer arm, as protection from the crowd. Adorning their shields and the chest plate of their armor were two unicorn heads separated by a grouping of arrows, the crest of the Kingdom of Mahzarin, showing all in the crowd that these knights had sworn fealty to the king.
The prisoner was roughly forced through the crowd between the two knights. His dark brown hair was matted with dirt and dried blood. It hung past his shoulders in a tangled, knotted mess. One of his eyes had nearly swollen shut, and his nose lay on his face at a weird angle. He appeared to be too weak to walk as his legs gave out after no more than a few steps and he his captors showed no mercy as they brutally dragged him through the crowd.

Slowly, a hiss arose towards the back of the crowd, followed by occasional calls of ‘Traitor,’ ‘Heretic!’ and ‘Burn him!’ that seemed to echo and grown in strength. Someone in the ranks called out for mercy, but the crowd turned as one and began pummeling the dissenter. As the man was placed on the chair, the crowd pressed forward everyone wanted to see and to hear.

The baron watched the crowd waiting for the perfect moment. He knew that the longer he waited, the more the crowd would want action. If he waited for too long, the crowd would take over and chaos would ensue. Even if the gods decided the outcome of the trial differently than expected, the crowd would see to it that someone was put to death today.

Lord BalHeim again raised his hand and the chapel fell silent.

“Sir Nathan van Archen,” The baron addressed the prisoner as the knights stepped up onto the dais and deposited their charge unceremoniously onto the chair. Both knights moved from beside the prisoner and came rigidly to attention just behind the Baron. This portion of the trial had been well practiced, and their movement left the prisoner open for the entire crowd to see.

“You are present in this court for crimes that you have committed against the Crown of Mahzarin, and as a Heretic decried by the King.”

“Blasphemer!” Sir Nathan screamed. “The King does not control the church!”
One of the guards backhanded Sir Nathan and he started to come back across the Baron’s face in a punch before the Baron stopped him short.

“Stop.” He commanded in a near whisper. He bent low to Sir Nathan’s ear before continuing. “The King is taking over the Church of Armendor. All that you know, and all that you hold dear is coming to an end.”

“The end starts with you, my dear Grand Marshal.” Slowly he turned so that he could look into Sir Nathan’s eyes. “I’m sure that I can have your armor adjusted by nightfall.”

Baron BalHeim stood tall and brushed at his armor. With a flourish born of an actor he turned and faced the crowd, lifting his voice so that all could hear his words once again.

“I will read your crimes, and you may plead as you will to them. You are accused of high treason in the form of conspiracy to commit murder. How do you plead?”

Sir Nathan sat on his chair, back straight, shackled hands in his lap. Though his eye was swollen and bruised and his lips were bloody and swollen Sir Nathan sat with what little dignity he could muster. He conveyed no answer to Lord BalHeim.

“You are accused heresy by the church that you give claim to lead. To the charges of taking communion with devils and demons; a practice that was outlawed by both crown and church more than two hundred years ago…” A look of disgust crossed more than just a few members of the crowd, and the baron paused to gain the full effect of his words. “How do you plead?”

“To that charge I plead innocence.” Sir Nathan stood up as he spoke, causing the knights guarding the baron to step forward to protect their liege. “I follow the teachings set forth by my lord, Armendor, god off all things good and just! I stand here before you in the warmth and the glow of Kianna, goddess of the dawn light.”
Sir Nathan fell to his knees and began a lofty prayer. His hands were folded together, and his head was bowed in reverence.

“Oh Kianna, goddess of healing and divination, shine your light on this humble servant of your husband, my lord, Armendor. Let your light judge me in ways that these mortal men may not…”

Sir Nathan knelt there before a handful less than two hundred, men, women and children, the witnesses to this heresy trial. Most of them had not stepped foot within the chapel before.

Normally, the priests of Armendor came out to the people for the lectures, sermons and feasts. Many of the men and women standing here before Sir Nathan had had their marriages sanctified by this man, children were blessed as they were born. Most, knew this man better than any other.

Some of these men stood at the front crowd, awaited the chance to speak up for Sir Nathan, the way he had stood with them against the goblin and orcish hoards that raided the countryside every fall.

None of the crowd knew how important this moment was for Sir Nathan and the Church of Armendor. With Armendor and Kianna’s blessing, the sun would shine through every window in the chapel, even if the shutters were closed.

In his heart, Sir Nathan knew that his faith was strong. He prayed with a stubbornness born of understanding and more than a touch of ego.

Each one of the witnesses watched in horror, what Sir Nathan’s pious pose would not allow. A cloud passed before the sun, casting the chapel into darkness. Men and women, gasped in fear and a low murmur of astonished voices gained strength from the judgment of the gods. Soon, the crowd was calling for the stake to be raised and wood to be gathered.

One man walked from the chapel that day, before the tears of Sir Nathan had reached the ground. Slowly he scanned the town around the chapel. Satisfied that everyone was still inside watching the trial, he pulled the cowl of his cloak tighter around his head, casting shadows over all of his face except for his mouth and chin.

His lips parted in a smile that was unfaltering, broadening even, as the crowed roared its ascent for the judgment the gods had sent. Sir Nathan van Archen; once a well-known vicar of Armendor, and leader of the Church of Armendor was put to the stake and burned for fictitious crimes.

“All too easy.” he said under his breath, as he walked down the road. He pulled his hand from under his cloak and looked at the indistinct ring he wore. It was gold etched and inlaid with silver in the shape of clouds. “All too easy!”

It was amazing how you could change the world with just a few gold coins and a magical ring that allowed you to control the weather. He allowed himself to laugh, the sound echoed through the empty town.