Trik - Betrayal in Rule

The royal court was being held in the great hall of the Emperor’s palace. Colorful banners waved from the high rafters of the hall, and fine woven tapestries hung below its arched windows. Wooden benches lined each side of the hall, and seated in those benches were the various members of the court: the butlers, the chamberlains, the chancellors, the chaplains, the confessors, the knights, the lords and ladies, and many others. All were dressed in fine clothes, and all were mingling quietly with one another. At the far end of the hall stood the royal thrones of the Emperor and Empress of Rule, two ornate stone chairs that faced the court. The Emperor and Empress looked down at the court from their high seats.

Into this hall was led, his hands shackled behind his back, the dark-haired and fair-skinned elf. He wore his rugged leather tunic and his black cloak, but his hat and his sword had been removed. At his sides marched tall guards wearing bright red cloaks.

The Emperor, a middle-aged man with gray hair, bushy brown eyebrows, and large imposing eyes, looked down on them from his throne. His expression was firm, and his fists were clenched. In the throne beside him sat the Empress, a royal beauty, the Queen of the East. She was dark-skinned and dark-haired, but her eyes were blue and beautiful.

Mortimer stepped onto the marble dais below the Emperor’s throne, a tall and thin man with a long pointed nose, deep-set blue eyes, and short curly hair. He wore a bright red uniform, and he carried with him a scroll. He unfurled the scroll, and read from it. His voice was deep, but possessed a feminine grace to it. “Your Imperial Highness, King of the West, Lord of Rule,” he said, declaring each title with distinction, “I bring before you the wanton elf-man Trikodemos.” He held out his right hand and gestured to Trik, who was standing beside the dais with the two guards. “I bring him before you to face your justice.”

The emperor rose from his throne and spoke with a voice that seemed large for a man of his stature. “Duke Mortimer,” he said, “you have acted bravely in your capture of this thief who has plagued my Empire for too long. Your service to my Empire and city will not be forgotten.”

Mortimer bowed his head to the Emperor. Then he stepped down from the dais and walked to the benches on the left side of the hall. There he took a seat next to several ministers dressed in red uniforms.

The guards pushed Trik onto the dais. “Kneel,” said one of the guards to Trik, an ugly man with fierce dark eyes.

“I have bad knees,” said Trik to the guard. “Surely His Highness will accommodate.”

The guard produced a baton from his cloak and smacked Trik with it, such that he stumbled forward and landed on his knees.

“Trikodemos,” said the Emperor, “I have heard of your deeds, and I have known your name for some time.”

“And yet you treat me as an enemy,” said Trik, “when I have been mostly a friend.”

“Quiet, fool,” whispered one of the guards. “It is the Emperor.”

“Duke Mortimer has informed me of your deeds,” said the Emperor, “both good and bad.” His eyes looked upon the court, at the many brightly-dressed ministers upon the benches, before returning again to Trik. “It seems you have been both a curse and blessing upon my Empire. Let it be known that good deeds cannot erase bad deeds. A man who has committed evil must be punished for his crimes.”

“If it is evil to pursue personal gain,” said Trik, “then is not every man evil?”

“You forget your place,” whispered the guard.

“I have thought long on this case,” said the Emperor. “It is true that this elf has done many great deeds, not the least of which is the defense of Alaquonde, my daughter state. Yet, I cannot forget his many dark deeds. Blasphemy, disturbing the peace, theft, poaching, and many other crimes too numerous to mention.” He raised his royal scepter, a short gold staff capped with the white head of an eagle. “Therefore, I pass this judgment. The elf who is named Trikodemos shall be hung from the neck until dead.”

“Justice indeed,” laughed Trik, under his breath.

The Emperor turned to the guard. “Take him away,” he said, and he waved his royal scepter.

The guards grasped Trik by his arms and led him away from the dais. As he passed the crowd of court ministers, some among them threw rotten vegetables and fruit at him. Others jeered at him. As Trik was led past Duke Mortimer, the Duke stared coldly at him.