27th day of Winter, AV 508 Rovan entered the hall along with the mass of people. He seated himself in the front row in the right side of the room, to the left of the opposite-facing Judge on his high wooden perch and stool. There sat his brother beside him, Lokan, a man of slightly more sturdy built than Rovan and clothes rugged of work. There sat the honored citizen in the other side of the room, who was the attacking part in this trial, a so-called victim - and beside him his obese, hired man of education to speak for his case. There sat the old judge with his wig and small, almost slitted eyes permanently narrowed to focus his sight. It was well-known that Judge Valtymore was a stern man. He was venerable of age and held many years of experiance dealing with the crimes and trifles of Zeltiva in court. Unfortunately, he was now hard-of-hearing and almost blind as a bat, though he would not let anyone else or himself admit it. The mumbling and bustle of people gathered inside started to fade, as everyone had found their seats. "Will the trialed stand up," bade the Judge hoarsely and raised his hand towards the defending side. Rovan found the judge's voice to be a little too loud-strung, as if he needed to hear himself as well through those half-deaf ears. Rovan regarded his brother rise, his long and dark chestnut hair well around his shoulders. Lokan had inherited more of their mother's brown hair colour and round physique. His close-shaven and rugged beard covered the most of his face, lined with a deep furrow of his brow and sullen pouting of his mouth, as if this whole situation was an injustice to him in itself. The judge glanced around, searching for the one in question before spotting Lokan, examinating the man through squinted and dissecting eyes before finally nodding in approval. "Read the charges," Judge Valtymore said, making an outward and effortless wave of his thin-wristed hand. A herald stepped forward with a large scroll, reading up from its written words. "Harrashment and violence comitted by Lokan Dermane, the Sailorman, in the night 20th of Winter, against Mort Tenstones, merchant and high-citizen, in the form of a punch and thereafter kicking the man whilst he lay down. An equal of seven witnesses saw this act, including a barmaid and six patrons of the Kelp tavern, who can all verify for their statements and tell the same about the occurred circumstances. Mort Tenstones demands a fair amount of mizas in compensation to his broken nose and ribs, as well as the imprisonment of Lokan Dermane." Rovan looked downwards and nodded slightly to himself, noting and imprinting each word of the persecution as well as he could. There was no question to whether his brother had done this act. The question was whether he was partially in his right to do so or if the attack was unprovoked. Trouble was that this Mort Tenstones was a rather wealthy and highesteemed merchant, who had both the coin and status in society to raise a good case against Rovan's brother. If lost, this case could bring much shame to the Dermane family. But Lokan was not only bound to Rovan as his older brother, but was also a dear friend of him, surprisingly given their very different traits. Where Rovan was sophisticated, strategic and careful, Lokan was boistrous, impulsive and daring. Their most shared attribute was likely an equally inheritated cunning they both possessed, Rovan's honed by education at the university and Lokan's shaped by streetwise learning from the alleys of the city. The herald folded the scroll and stepped back, leaving another pause with series of mumbling and low discussions from the audience. The Judge lifted his hand, which was enough to silence the crowd for now. |