A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

And so Oliver Patrick was seated, his place in the trial was taken. From where he sat, he could see much of the room. His place was in nowhere inferior to the Ministers on their raised platform, and the thrones in which they sat. He was put up even higher than then, so that the crowd could see he who was being judged, but he could also see them just as well.

He would not dare complain about such a position, not when it was such a perfect antidote to a week spent not being able to see anything interesting – now he could easily pick apart every face in the room, studying them.

As the trial commenced, he did just that. He sat watching steadily, and calmly, like the owl that was fastened to his chest.

"We are here today for the trial of Oliver Patrick," General Tavar intoned. "In light of recent events, it was judged that a hearing would need to be had, so that they could be laid to rest, before the public eye. Many have opinions on what happened, but today, we are only interested in the facts."

Murmings came from the crowd as he allowed his words to hang in the air. He seemed to place particular emphasis on that last part, as he eyed them, as though challenging them. Oliver noted that many of the people amongst the crowd seemed to be people from the outside world, beyond the Academy. They were not merely staff members or the like.

He wondered if that was perhaps why it had taken so long for the trial to take place.

General Tavar seated himself after a moment more spent staring down the crowd. It was Lazarus, the Minister of Information, who stood up after him next.

"Indeed, as the great General says, a trial is explicitly about the facts," the Minister of Information said, pausing to wet his lips, in a doddering old man sort of way. Hod rolled his eyes at the gesture. "And so the trial will begin with the presentation of such facts.

We will call forth witnesses to the event, as well as character witnesses to Oliver Patrick himself, should prime witnesses prove insufficient."

More murmurings came as he spoke that last part. Character witnesses. Even calm as he was, that phrase made Oliver flinch. If it was a case of character witnesses, then he didn't stand a chance. There was no one that could really vouch that he had good upstanding character – he couldn't even vouch that for himself.

Again, there seemed inherent contradictions. The Minister had stated a concern for the facts, only to conclude that very same speech with a want for opinion. Lazarus sat down, and once more General Tavar took the lead. Discover more content at My Virtual Library Empire

"Each of the Ministers had beheld the scene of the crime, after it happened," Tavar said. "We will each give our own interpretation of those events. Minister of Logic Hod, we would hear your perspective first, if you would keep it brief."

Hod popped up delightedly, as Tavar conceded the centre to him, and went back to his seat. "Well, my opinion? Indeed, my opinion…" he pretended to look thoughtful. "Well if it's my opinion you're after, or my interpretation, I'll start us off with what I truly think. Indeed, I believe, those of us that are not lying to ourselves likely think the same. This whole trial is a farce.

It was a clear assassination attempt, through and through, even a doddering old man like Lazarus can see that—"

"Right! Hod! Down! You've said your piece," General Tavar barked, jumping from his throne with an urgency, and grabbing Hod by the arm. Hod looked like he wanted to go further, but he conceded his space under the force of Tavar's grip. Despite the furious look that Tavar was giving him, Hod merely smiled at him, a big childish grin, and went skipping back to his seat.

When there, he seemed to remember something, and he waved up at Oliver.

That sent the crowd murmuring again, most of their voices filled with disgust. Whatever their opinion on the trial's outcome, they were almost universally filled with a distaste for Hod's lack of regard for proper proceedings. It was tradition, after all. Ceremony. It was to be respected, as one respected the graves of their ancestors.

With Hod's upset of proper proceedings, introducing the trial as the farce that it was, it was difficult to follow the Minister of Logic, and put things back onto their intended track.

"Then, Minister of Coin, we would hear your piece," Tavar said, doing his best to keep his voice level, despite the extreme rage that was distorting it.

Jolamire made a display of graveness, as he pretended to collect himself, before standing up. It was impossible to imagine a more richly dressed man than Jolamire was that day. His shoulder-length white-blonde hair was beaten only in shine by the silver and gold chains that hung around his neck, as well as the thick rings that decorated all his fingers.

He swept his cloak about him, as he took to the centre, thoroughly enjoying the attention.

"The events of that evening a week ago…" Jolamire began. "Now that's something even I hesitate to discuss… Never have I seen such blood."

Though that might have won the crowd, the warriors amongst them twitched their eyebrows. It was not a thing to brag about, never before seeing blood of that amount – it merely showed a lack of experience on the battlefield, and in a warring nation like the Stormfront, that should have been looked down on. In this crowd, it didn't seem to be though.

"I recognized many of the men that were slain," he continued. "Good men, from what I knew of them. Respectful. They'd greeted me on many a morning. It's a shocking thing, to see a man alive in the morning, and then see the pale gaze of death in the evening… My sleep has not been quite right since."