Starfall

The Trial

     The high vaulted ceiling and dark basalt walls of Starfall's large hall would have made it a dark and damp place if it were not for the fire and liquid rock that flowed beneath the floors. The light shown through crystallized pockets imbedded in the floor, throwing ghastly shadows across the walls making an eerie and intimidating display. But the most imposing force in the room was not a part of the keep, but an inhabitant of it.

     Lord Isaac Strayne of Starfall, son of the late Lord Thaddeus Strayne and Lady Elise Barley, a man of fifty two years, sat in a high backed chair chiseled out of the same stone that made up the building in which it resided. He had jet black hair with a neatly trimmed beard that was beginning to gray around the edges. In normal fashion he'd sit there and listen to the petitions of his people and his court, weighing each plea and favor with wisdom gained from years of sitting in on sessions held by his predecessors. But it was no normal day in Starfall. Although the high hall was teeming with peasants, nobility, guards, and bannermen, it was completely silent, save the crackling coming from the braziers lining the walls.

     Most of the populace of Fulcrum Plains, the town located beneath the face of the Avem Mountains, gathered into the keep to witness the trial of a man whom had attempted to take Lord Strayne's life. The fourth attempt since the summer harvest. The fourth attempt since Baelin Allor returned from the Farlands. The fourth attempt since Allor returned to his seat at Crofthedge. It was no coincidence. The viper was back in his nest and he meant to make it known.

Clothed in a rough spun tunic and weighted down by fetters and shackles, Lord Strayne's attempted assailant knelt before the court. Over his head he wore a sack of cloth to limit his perception. Isaac's voice boomed throughout the room in a neutral tone.

"What is your name?"

The shackled man seemed to shrink further, making himself smaller in a vain attempt to escape Isaac's sight. But he knew this game. Isaac had seen his fair share of marauders and ruffians.

"Do not make me repeat the question again, friend."

There was nothing friendly in his voice, yet neither was there any contempt. Had the situation been different, one might think that they were in a market haggling over a price for salted cod.

The man mumbled something inaudible, masked by the sack covering his face. When he waited for a response, the man realized he would not get one because no one heard him. He took a deep breath and answered again, louder this time. "W-weldyn.... My name is Weldyn."

"Where is your birth land?" continued Isaac. Not stopping to waste anymore time than was already lost.

"Malstown... j-just west of Sinner's Ford" answered Weldyn in a slightly less strained voice. He seemed to relax and gain a slight bit of confidence as he continued to talk. After all it seemed Lord Strayne was making almost friendly conversation. This was how Isaac dealt with men like him. Weaken their walls with soft words and then strike before they realized what was going on.

Isaac ordered one of his house guards to remove the sack from Weldyn's head.

Weldyn had a boyish look to him. Round, smooth cheeks and not a whisker in sight. His matted brown hair framed his face, almost covering a pair of almond shaped eyes the color of scummy pond water. Looking around the hall and realizing the amount of high born nobles present, Weldyn shrunk down again.

"What is your profession?" Isaac was beginning his assault with an innocent question.

With his newfound awareness of where he was, Weldyn was not so quick to answer this time.