[Fillip]

Fillip tried to look composed, despite his bound hands and leg irons. To
sit up straight and to look calm. But fatigue gnawed at his body,
undermining his resolve, and as he waited, sitting on the hard wooden
bench, his shoulders would sink and he tended to lean back against the
wall. Until he would again realize what he was doing and pull himself back
up straight.

Appearance-wise he had been allowed to clean up, and to even have a new
pair of trousers and dark brown tunic (as opposed to the clean but cheap
beige tunic and pants he had been given in the Tower); his curly dark hair
had been cleaned and trimmed to look presentable. And Fillip would have
passed for a proper young gent, except for the scabs on his face (two
straight ones down each side of his nostrils and shallow scratch marks
across his cheeks); his eyes also betrayed him - his brown eyes were
ringed by deep, black circles - indicative of sleepless nights.

Now he truly cursed Denlira. Dream or ghost, she came each night; hovering
near and softly murmuring, "I'm pretty for you."

[Allenel]

        Allenel cracked the door into the nearly-finished courtroom,
taking note of the people there.  Not too many, as of yet, since this
first phase -- the reading of the charges -- had been scheduled quickly
and with little public fanfare.  Archie Chisholm, of course, had taken up
a seat in the back corner, with notepad and pencil in hand.  And a note of
disgust on his face, since he had been told to leave his mug outside.
Arno Everett already had taken his place at the table on the left, a neat
stack of papers before him; the prosecutor, newly arrived from Bleckner,
had his elbows on the table-top and his fingers steepled before his face.
His eyes, above his neatly trimmed goatee, behind wire-rimmed spectacles,
were closed.

        "Mayce isn't here yet," Allenel remarked to himself as he
continued to button his black long-coat.  No robe, since there had been no
time to order one.  And no wig, since he would have refused to have worn
it anyway, regardless of family tradition.  Tower Guardsmen there were,
around the defendant.  The lawyer-temporary-judge half-turned to look at
Brion.  "Remember, all you have to do is call it to order this time.  And
be ready, if Mayce raises the issue, to testify about the witness
statements you collected."

[Brion]

"That I can do," Brion said. He straightened his dark blue tunic, and
chuckled, "I feel like I'm missing a my arm without my shillalegh at my
side, though I doubt I'll need it here - nowhere near as rambunctious as
the Hold or a clan gathering."

He handed over a clothesbrush, and said, "Ye might want to take a sweep
with that, Yer Honor. I've no doubt yeung Elektra will be able to spot
lint half way across the courtroom, and will remember to tell us once this
case is said and done."

[Allenel]

        "She does have an exacting eye," Allenel conceded, before turning
to his coat.  "But if she sets to critiquing our attire, I'll conclude she
has too much time on her hands and will have to find something else to
keep her busy."

[Brion]

Brion chuckled.

[Perrin]

After having observed everyone's arrival, Perrin stepped out of the
shadows in the hallway outside and marched...sloooowlyyy... into the
courtroom His short, military-style hair was freshly trimmed, and every
stitch of his clothing was cleaned, pressed, and starched.  His satchel
was clasped tightly...but not overly tight... in his well-manicured hand.
He looked more like a painting of an heroic figure than an actual
flesh-and-blood man.

As all eyes turned to him, Perrin lifted his chin slightly and gave an
arrogant sniff.

About halfway to his chair, Perrin nodded confidently to Fillip and then
to the judge.  He made an obvious show of ignoring everyone else.

[Arno Everett]

        As the younger man made his way down the center aisle, Arno
Everett opened his eyes and contemplated his fingertips.  After a moment
more, he lowered his hands to the table-top and lifted his pencil.  But he
wrote nothing, and simply waited, staring straight ahead.

[Perrin Mayce]

Finally, he settled himself into his space beside the accused.  He opened
his satchel, removed a few dozen pages of carefully-transcribed notes, and
then nodded again to the judge as if giving him permission to proceed.

[Mage Brendan]

He sat in the section of bench set aside for witnesses, but this was just
a preliminary matter and he did not expect to have to testify now. As
always he wore a deep hooded cloak and sat away from everyone else.

[Fillip]

Fillip breathed out a small sigh, but he managed to make that his only
sign of relief. He returned Mr. Mayce's nod, and returned to contemplating
the sheen of the newly-laid wooden floor.

[Brion]

"'Tis time to begin," Brion said, after a Guard had discreetly announced
the arrival of the defense attorney.

The newly-appointed bailiff stepped out of Allenel's chambers, and
carefully closed the door. Brion Hillrover cut an impressive figure; tall
and broadshoulder (despite being the "baby" of the four Hillrover
brothers), with a thick, though neatly-trimmed, auburn beard, and equally
thick auburn hair that he had pulled back in a beaded thong. His deep blue
tunic and trews were cut to the latest fashion (though designed by Leticia
Crisir to properly attire a large man); so in the bailiff's appearance an
interesting truce had been achieved between civilization and ferocious
mountain warrior.

"Hear ye!" he boomed out, though his years of playing the warpipes giving
him the control needed to modulate his resounding voice to fit the
chambers, "The Court of the City of Montfort, by special designation of
his Royal Majesty, King of Claremont, is now called to order!! The
Honorable Allenel Gilford presiding!!"

[Sheriff Armand]

He sat in the back of the court room, the arrangements made to have all of
the doors guarded. He wondered to himself how the day would go. For all
the magical power the Guard had at its command they had been unable to
stop the nightly visit of the girl's ghost to Fillip's cell. He watched
each of the members of the court as then went about their business, a
slight grin crossed his face as he watched Allenel and Brion, wondering
how Allenel had convinced the warpiper to be the Bailiff.

[Arno Everett/Allenel]

        The prosecutor rose automatically as Allenel stepped from the
chambers to take the three short steps up to the bench.  Behind the judge
came another older, smaller man -- Bog Antlon -- bearing yet another
small, wooden box.  Everett himself had carried it from Bleckner, under
the royal seal, straight to the notary.  Bog would be taking copious notes
of everything that passed, but the small silver and crystal device inside
would at the same time record what was said.

        Before the bench, a second tier rose up from the floor, with a
witness box to one side, and to the other a chair and small desk for Bog.
Allenel waited for the older man to open the box, set out the box, and
confirm that the spell had been triggered.  "Please be seated," Allenel
said to those in the back of the courtroom, and took his own chair, as if
it weren't the first time he had presided over this courtroom.

        "Arno Everett for the Crown," the prosecutor immediately
introduced himself in even tones, keeping his eyes turned towards the
front of the courtroom.  "We are here on the matter of the Crown v. Fillip
Menagrem." Two rows behind him, Archie Chisholm had wetted his pencil, and
begun scribbling in his notebook.

        "Yes."  Allenel turned his own gaze towards the defense table.
"Counselor?  Please state your name for the record.  Does the defendant
wish to have the charges read in their entirety?"

[Fillip]

Beneath the concealing surface of the table Fillip clenched his bound
hands; feeling the weight of the judge's gaze upon him. Feeling the weight
of the bindings on his hands and legs as they not only bound his body, but
his magic as well. And as he had for the last few days and nights
(particularly the nights) he damned Denlira - and the arrogant bastards
who had captured him - for bringing him to this humiliation.

[Perrin]

Perrin stood.

"Perrin Hieronymous Mayce, defending.  And yes, the defense requests a
proper reading of the charges, your honor."

He sat back down and smiled.

[Arno Everett/Allenel]

        Everett waited until Allenel looked back to him, and then nodded.
A quick shuffle through his papers and he brought out two pieces of
parchment.  "May I approach, Your Honor?"  His quiet, careful manner
indicated no personal offense at deferring to a much younger man; he
simply waited for the nod before stepping up to the bench to hand one copy
over to Bog.  "And a set for defense counsel," he added, placing the
second copy in front of Mayce before returning to his own place.  He
opened his mouth, then stopped, looking inquiringly at Allenel.

        "Would the defendant please rise for the reading of the charges?"
Allenel prompted gently.  After making a quick notation on the parchment
handed to him, Bog had passed the document up to Allenel himself -- the
first opportunity for any of them to see what charges would be brought
against the defendant.

        After Fillip had risen to his feet, Arno folded his hands behind,
cleared his throat slightly, and directed his eyes to a space somewhere
between the defense table and the bench.  "In the matter of the Crown v.
Fillip Menagrem, the defendant is hereby charged by His Royal Majesty,
King of Claremont, with the commission of following offenses against the
public upon the dates and under the circumstances set forth under the
royal seal: assault upon the person of the Royal Envoy, Lawrince Ournel;
battery upon the same; kidnapping of the same; attempted murder upon the
same; intentional and premeditated murder of His Majesty's loyal subject,
citizen of Claremont and of the Chartered City of Montfort, Denlira
Ophelian; abuse of a corpse; fleeing the scene of a crime."

        Allenel scanned the document once, and then again, before looking
up.  Behind Everett, Archie Chisholm had raised his own head in surprise
-- no charges for the death of the envoy's secretary, Netit?  Arno simply
stood in place, eyes dropping down to look at the toes of his neatly
polished boots.  "Does the Crown intend to seek the death penalty?"
Allenel asked.

        "Yes, Your Honor.  The Crown feels that the nature of the
defendant's crimes demands the ultimate punishment."  By the tone of his
voice, Arno Everett might have been commenting upon the weather.

[To be continued.]