Forgotten Embers

Chapter 36: Men of Weakness

Eliezer watched as the grand courtroom began to fill with people. He stood at the front of the room behind a partition which came to about the height of his waist with a guard set at either side. He scanned the sea of faces, passively watching the entrance for Benjamin. There were rows of benches throughout the room with people standing behind and a balcony above from which the citizens could observe the proceedings.

He saw Benjamin and Avera as they entered, escorted by a red haired officer, his helmet tucked away beneath his arm.

'Marcus?'

He watched in silence and closed his eyes to stop himself from following as they went. He lowered his head and took a breath of air.

'Well, he always did have a way of finding himself in the most intriguing circumstances.'

He glanced over past the partition to his right. Adrien Blackridge was standing near him with Demetrius Kallida and Alhor Zahaynei farther off. He scanned the crowd again, relocating Benjamin. He and Avera were left standing behind the last row of benches. He looked to Adrien, catching his eye, then to Benjamin again. Adrien's eyes followed him, and he gave a discreet nod.

Kallida was monitoring the room. He held in his hand rolled sheets of parchment. He called an officer over and whispered something to him.

"Yes, right away, sir," the man replied bowing himself before he hurried away. Kallida's eyes were stayed on the man intently, and Eliezer could only surmise that he must have taken some interest in Benjamin.

'I'll have to do something. The boy does bear a remarkable resemblance to his father.'

Eliezer squinted, keeping his eyes on Benjamin. "Say, who is that man there?" he asked.

'No games, Demetrius... none but mine.'

"The red haired man in the last row seated with the light haired damsel?" Blackridge asked, playing along.

"No," Kallida corrected with minor irritation. "The man in the glasses, the one with the crest on his tie."

"Oh, yes," Blackridge said, peering over at Benjamin. "Interesting fellow."

"Quite," Kallida said. "He looks like Caper's ghost. That or his son," he added, casting a warning glance at Eliezer. "I don't know who he is, but I soon will. I have sent a man to inquire for me."

Kallida's man returned quickly, handing him a small slip of paper. Kallida's eyes scanned the page rapidly and his countenance changed as he read it, flooding with anger.

"Is something wrong, Demetrius?" Eliezer asked him.

"You," Kallida breathed in furious anger. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of air to calm himself. He flicked the paper with annoyance. "Benjamin Palmer," he announced, glaring at him. "He's your bookkeeper." He glanced at Benjamin, then at Blackridge before his eyes settled on Webber once again.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, feigning surprise and smiling. "Is that really Ben?" His wrists were bound in tight leather bonds, but he lifted his hands to remove his glasses, rubbing his eyes. "Forgive me," he said, "my eyesight isn't what it was." He replaced his glasses and looked to Benjamin again. "Ah, yes. Ben, indeed. How silly of me not to have recognized him." His eyes moved to Kallida. "Of course," he said pointedly, "I wasn't afforded much sleep last night, either."

Blackridge smirked. "Well, that could be said of all of us."

Kallida examined the two of them with bitter hatred. "It could, indeed," he commented coldly. "Howbeit, Ambassador, you will have plenty of time to rest after the execution."

Eliezer bowed his head, and his eyes focused on the bonds strapped around his wrists. 'My hands may be tied, but yours are not. Therefore, if there be life, O King, let there be some left for me.'

"The trumpeters," Zahaynei said, nudging Kallida and turning his attention to the stage behind them.

"They must be ready, then," Blackridge replied, turning to the place where the monarch would soon appear.

The stage was crafted into the wall and elevated high at the front of the court. There was a railing across the front of it and a throne sat in the center, whereupon the King would sit to cast judgement. There were two men who had come into view of the courtroom, young men in uniform holding long, silver trumpets. They took their positions on either side and moved towards the crowd until the horns of their instruments stretched over the rail. There they held their place and began to sound the song of royal announcement, capturing the attention of the court.

Charlenade emerged and walked across the stage. His pace was slow and dignified. His image was captivating as he paused to address the crowd: a man dressed in elaborate garb. He wore a long white coat with shining gold braid, sparkling chains, polish buttons, and colorful gemstones which reflected the light of the courtroom. White gloves covered his hands and forearms, and a velvet cape of shimmering gold was stylishly arranged to the side so as to cover one shoulder and not the other. He stood between the trumpeters with perfect posture and stony stillness. Only his eyes were set on Webber with distain, and his icy gaze pierced the object of his cold, undying hatred, sinking sickles into the man's soul.

Charlenade adjusted his eyes to the people at the conclusion of the blasting of the trumpets. "Citizens of the public, welcome to our court. I am Cessil Charlenade, commander of the Mage-Royal and personal servant to our King," he declared. "As we conduct this trial here today, I ask that each of you remember the kingdom as it now is. Altruon is at its strength, and we are feared among the nations. The very mention of that name strikes dread into the hearts of our enemies. Our land is plenteous and its people are prosperous. This is an age of great innovation and modern progress. Altruon has entered into a new age, a greater age of glory and enlightenment. Our society has risen to take its place at the forefront of the world stage, and our people rise with it. Now, I ask that you rise and applaud your great and glorious King, Zephyr Almast."

The trumpets began again, and Zephyr entered, dressed in decadent royal robes which far outshined those worn by Charlenade, but as much as Charlenade's garments were meant to convey richness and plenty, Zephyr's were to convey the unapproachable darkness of his majesty and strength. The King wore black dusted with diamonds and decorated with shining silver braid. His cape was a dark purple velvet, so dark it was near black, and his double breasted coat shimmered with the royal majesty of the stars on a moonless night.

'Ramus...'

The eyes of every man were fixed on him, and the courtroom rang out with uproarious shouts of adulation following his every stride, the people inspired by the lofty words Charlenade's illustrious speech.

'How foolishly a man exalts himself. What is this all to you? Is this a mere show, a pageant, or a mockery? Or is this something more?'

There was an end to the trumpet blasts, and the applause of the people began to die down until silence fell upon the vast hall. Charlenade stepped back as the trumpeters exited from view, and a tension gripped the crowded room as Zephyr turned to address the people.

Eliezer was left staring up at the man who he had known so very well so very long ago. He considered his manners and visage as he stood there shackled, listening to the sound of his own breathing as the silence settled all around him.

"Citizens of Pyre and the surrounding realms," the King addressed, taking Charlenade's place at the center of the stage, "today we gather for the trial of an enemy of our great state, a man of bitter malice and zealous rancor, and an affiliate of an illegitimate and hostile government. Eliezer Webber is a man with a sordid and ignominious past, a stark reminder of the dark annals of our nation's history. Men like Webber are a threat to our very existence. They have rejected our way of life, and they speak against us in our strength. These are men of weakness! They call us back into the weakness of former times. They speak of Caliphus and of returning to the ancient paths. Citizens of Altruon and of Pyre, her great city, as I stand before you, I assure you of our strength, and I assure you of the weakness of our enemies!"

The crowd cheered, enthralled by the King and his words, and Zephyr's lips turned to a wicked smile.

"Altruon is in its strength! Pyre is in its strength! We will not be brought again to weakness!" the King declared, raising a clenched fist.

Again, the people cheered, breaking into uproarious applause and shouts of adulation.

"Caliphus is weak! The armorials are weak!" he continued, ushered on by the praise of the people. "And what of this man? Is he weak?" the King demanded.

"Yes!" the people cried.

"And what do you say, shall we purge our weakness?" the King asked.

"Yes!" the voices resounded.

"Shall we execute this traitor?" the King called out the question.

"Yes! Execute him!" the people shouted.

Zephyr laughed, and he turned his eyes to Webber with a sick satisfaction. "Do you hear that, Eliezer?" he asked, addressing his familiar rival. "The people are against you. Your own countrymen are calling for your death. Here you stand in chains before me, and who is there to save you? The King of Himmel?" He laughed. "Let him save you as he did Sebastian and Stephan, his Ambassador as his Seer and his King," Zephyr jeered. "I killed them, Eliezer," the King spitefully reminded him, "and I will kill you, also."

Eliezer remained silent and a small smile appeared on his lips as he exhaled sharply, bowing his eyes. 'Well... now you'll have to help me. Elsewise, what of your name?'

"Master Kallida will be conducting the trial for us," the King announced. "I ask that you lend him your attention and enjoy the show," he said with pleasure.

"Thank you, my Lord," Kallida stated.

Eliezer raised his eyes to Zephyr once again, brushing his thumb anxiously against his fingertips.

The King took his place on the judgement seat and there reclined, crossing one leg over the other in a relaxed position.

'He seems quite pleased with himself over this, but he will soon regret it.'

Zephyr smiled and raised his hand high. "Begin!" he said, enacting the ordeal with a definitive snap of his fingers and a look of immense enjoyment covering his face.