Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

“Breaks Rock, he hate being here, say we all sinning, betraying God again and he fix. He kill important-man and God love him again, then he die and go to Gotlaeyef.”

Deandra shook her head as she parsed that, and said, “You did well to stop him, but you should have told us.”

Drill Fast hung her head and said, “Some say so, but we not know, maybe he do, maybe is talk, so we watch, wait for him to do.”

“Well you did fine, but next time tell us before something happens,” Ynghilda said. She looked to The Prince, who in his turn deferred to Deandra.

“Lady Eastgrove is, I believe, the local Crown Authority, as well as being in charge of these people?”

Deandra shot him a glance, but his face was bland as he waited for her response. She had never thought much of her position as a Lady of the Realm; it meant less to her than it did even to Engvyr. Certainly she did not think of her position as placing her above Ynghilda, but in fact, in the legal sense, it did convey to her one particular, special obligation that Ynghilda did not possess. The right, the duty, of pronouncing High Justice. The power literally of life and death.

The Prince of course could claim that right, but he had abstained from doing so. It dawned on Deandra that he was testing her, and would be judging her performance of her duty. Her sentence would be reviewed by the Crown of course, but she still must act in accordance with her station.

She drew a deep breath, squared her shoulders and addressed the Braell, and for that matter all present.

“Breaks Rock stands accused of attempting the murder of a Prince of the Royal House,” She said, “We have account of his actions from this witness. Is there any among you that can dispute her claim?”

She waited a moment and turned to the Braell and said, “That means, do any of you say Breaks Rock was not trying to kill him?” she said, pointing at the Prince. They all remained silent, and a few of them shook their heads. She turned to Breaks Rock.

“Do you say that you were not trying to kill him?” she asked him, indicating the Prince again. He simply glared at her from his one good eye, so she continued asking, “Do you have anything to say in your own defense?”

Now he spoke.

“You are ugly to God! You will all die in pain, and when the Sleeper awakens he will ridta your souls!”

There was more of the same, but eventually he wound down. Deandra had killed men, Baasgarta anyway, in the heat of combat. This was different, but she understood that it was just as necessary. For the first time she felt the weight of responsibility, the reality of the power granted to her by marrying Engvyr. She consulted Ynghilda briefly, being unsure of the proper phrasing and terms. Then steeling herself, she continued.

“Breaks Rock, by the statements of those present and the witness of my own eyes, I find you guilty of attempted murder and Regicide. By the Power vested in me by His Majesty Dvalin Dvalinson, King of Dvargatil Baeg I must now pass sentence.” She took a deep breath and continued.

“Breaks Rock, you are cast outside the law and sentenced to die. Upon review of your sentence by the Crown Court, you will be taken from this place and before the eyes of His loyal subjects you will hang by the neck until dead. May the Lord and Lady have mercy upon your soul.”

“Ynghilda,” Deandra said as she turned to the older woman, “If you would be so kind as to place the condemned in confinement until such time as the appropriate authorities can review his sentence?”

Ynghilda nodded, then turned to the prince and said, “Unless his Highness cares to exercise his rights in this instance?”

Deandra had no idea what the stead-holder was talking about, but the prince, seeing her confusion and guessing at its source, explained.

“One of my many duties is that I am an honorary High Justice of the royal court, and as such I have the power to review your sentence. Given, however, that I am the intended victim of the crime in question I think that I need to recuse myself. Please place Breaks Rock into confinement for the moment.”

Ynghilda nodded and signaled for the prince's men to follow her and departed. Deandra favored the prince with a considering look.

“So,” she said, “It would seem that our procedures for rehabilitating the Braell aren't the only thing that you were sent here to evaluate.”

The prince shrugged, unabashed.

“Lady Eastgrove,” he said without any hint of apology, “A person of, forgive me, foreign birth has fallen into one of the highest positions in our society. Surely you understand the necessity of gauging the mettle of that person as quickly as was practical?”

Deandra nodded reluctantly, but nonetheless folded her arms and gave him a less-than-sweet look.