"The Great Trial of Dunkel"

The courtroom was packed; the commotion of having the great Captain Roland imprisoned was relentless. The air was thick, heavy with the anticipation of everyone there who crowded the galleries, eager to witness the trial of the famous "Devil's Hand," as Roland was known, the once esteemed captain of the Royal Guard, now demoted to sergeant and now accused of treason and conspiracy against the crown. The silence was only broken by muffled murmurs and the creaking of wooden chairs.

In the center of the room, an imposing table served as the stage for the unfolding drama. Judges dressed in their black robes occupied their seats, their expressions serious and impenetrable. In front of them, Roland, escorted by two armed guards, awaited his fate, the Frosteel chains clinking with every movement.

After announcing the start of the trial, Edward sat back down on his elevated throne and observed everything with a cold and calculating gaze. The golden crown that adorned his head seemed to weigh upon him. His blue eyes were dull and icy. "Don't mess with me today, Roland; I'm warning you," Edward thought.

Roland looked at the crowd again, his eyes searching the faces, trying to find someone who could help him, even just one witness. He saw curiosity, fear, doubt, and even compassion. But he couldn't decipher what was going on in their hearts.

The court officer, with a clear and imposing voice, began the trial, reading the charges against Roland: treason, conspiracy, kidnapping, and assault.

"Roland Silverback," the officer announced, "you are accused of conspiring against the crown, of plotting with former Commander Belfort to depose King Edward, and of kidnapping young Leonard, using excessive force against the royal guards. How do you plead?"

Roland took a deep breath, facing the judges and the king. "I plead not guilty," he said, his voice firm and clear. "Kidnapping Leonard, what a bad joke," Roland thought to himself.

A murmur ran through the crowd. Edward then impassively stated, "I want everyone here to know that I had enough reasons to give the sentence myself, but, as I want to be fair, I decided to give this man a trial!" Edward raised his hands and smiled at the audience.

A greater commotion formed; some shouted "long live the king," others, however, shouted "imposter, liar."

Edward gestured for the trial to proceed.

The prosecutor, a slender man with astute eyes, began his speech. "Honorable judges, the kingdom of Dunkel was threatened by a vile and treacherous conspiracy, orchestrated by none other than Roland Silverback, a man in whom we placed our trust and loyalty. He, blinded by ambition and hatred, conspired with former Commander Belfort to depose our beloved king."

"But make no mistake," the prosecutor continued, "Roland's ambition was not limited to taking the throne. He also planned to kidnap young Leonard, a Neumond of great potential, to use him as a bargaining chip in his Machiavellian plans."

"So this is your trump card, Edward? You are despicable..." Roland thought, looking directly at Edward, the fury visible in his eyes.

"The evidence is irrefutable," declared the prosecutor, displaying a parchment with Roland's alleged plan. "This document, found in Belfort's quarters, details every step of the conspiracy, every betrayal, and every act of violence."

Roland listened to the accusations with growing indignation. "Lies!" he shouted, "All lies!"

The judge, a stout man with a long white beard, rebuked him. "Silence, defendant! You will have your chance to defend yourself."

The prosecutor continued, describing Roland's fight against the royal guards, painting him as a violent and uncontrolled man. He presented the witnesses: Gerard, who described the fight in detail, and other guards who claimed to have been injured by Roland.

Then they brought in the remains of Garrick, obliterated to charcoal.

"Behold, the body of our beloved commander, as it has become." The crowd in unison was startled with a great "Whoa"; some began to cough and had their stomachs churned by the terrible state of Garrick's remains.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this man is a madman, and we must, through justice, condemn him; it is irrefutable evidence!"

With each testimony, the crowd became agitated, doubt and uncertainty turning into anger and contempt. Roland felt the weight of the gazes upon him, the pressure of public opinion crushing him.

Finally, it was the defense's turn. Roland's lawyer, a short, thin man with insightful eyes, stood up. "Honorable judges, what we have heard here today is not the truth but a distortion of reality, a farce created to destroy an innocent man."

Edward looked directly at Roland's defense attorney and winked, giving a malicious little smile, clearly showing his evil intentions.

The lawyer glanced sideways at Edward and continued, "Roland Silverback is a war hero," argued the lawyer, "a man who dedicated his life to serving and protecting Dunkel. He would never betray his kingdom, never conspire against his king."

"The document presented by the prosecution is a forgery," declared the lawyer, "a frame-up to incriminate Roland. The witnesses were coerced, manipulated, and bought. Their testimonies are false, their words empty."

"Roland acted in self-defense," the lawyer continued, "protecting himself from an ambush, from an attempted assassination. He did not kidnap Leonard but saved him from the clutches of the king, who sees him as a threat to his power."

"Roland is a man of honor, a loyal warrior, a protector of the realm. He does not deserve to be condemned for crimes he did not commit. I ask that you acquit him, that you restore his freedom, and that you allow him to continue serving Dunkel with the same courage and loyalty as always."

The lawyer concluded his defense, and a heavy silence fell over the courtroom. Roland, exhausted but with a spark of hope reborn in his heart, awaited the verdict.

"Why did Edward let my lawyer say all this? What is this scoundrel's devious plan?" Roland wondered, his mind racing, trying to understand him.

The judge then exclaimed. "I return the floor to the prosecution; what is your rebuttal?"

"Empty and baseless words; he has no proof that it was self-defense or even proof that he was attacked! There is no evidence, including evidence to refute the prosecution's evidence. What indications does my colleague have to say that the letter is false? NONE!" The prosecutor exclaimed in an exacerbated tone.

A murmur arose in the stands at the end of the prosecution's rebuttal.

"ORDER, ORDER!" Cried the judge. "RESPECT YOUR KING IN THE PRECINCT."

Silence was restored again.

"Now I pass the rejoinder to the defense... Whenever you're ready." The judge pointed to Roland's lawyer.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have a witness here with me!" The lawyer barely spoke, and again a commotion broke out in the room.

Edward lost his smile, his fist clenched tightly on the armrest of his throne. He hadn't expected this outcome, and his eyes glared at the defense attorney who had clearly disobeyed his secret orders.

The judge looked at the king with a look of doubt, not knowing what to do.

Edward then gestured for them to proceed.

"Send the witness in," said the judge.

A man of robust physique and advanced age, clearly humble and in simple clothes, entered the room with his head held high, carrying a small cloth backpack, in a pose and gait to be envied by any ordinary passerby. It was Thomas, the loyal former soldier and friend of Roland. He calmly reached the front of the bench and sat down at the witness stand.

"Introduce yourself, please," said the defense attorney.

"My name is Thomas Adams. I am a fisherman and retired soldier from the Lumeria army. I am 65 years old and a widower. I have family in another city."

"The defense may question him," said the judge.

"Mr. Thomas, do you know the man chained and mistreated in front of you?"

"Yes, it's Roland Silverback, my friend from the army." Thomas stands up and salutes Roland, who returns the gesture by nodding in respect.

"Do you have contact with Mr. Roland?" The defense questions.

"I hadn't seen Roland in over 15 years, sir."

"And how did you come into contact recently?"

"Roland appeared at my door late at night, carrying a woman who was totally bruised and in danger of death; he himself was tired and had traces of battle and pursuit."

"And how can you prove to me that Roland was not the aggressor but the victim?"

"Simple, sir, the woman he was carrying is alive, and other city merchants and informants can confirm that royal guards forcibly dragged her out of her establishment." Thomas stated.

"Excellent, can you tell me where the girl is?" Asks defense.

"I can't, sir; Elizabeth is in danger of death. I fear for her safety," said Thomas.

"I then ask the judge for the preservation of the victim in question for health reasons, invoking the royal decree of the year 157 of the New Era, which says that any witness in a state of health with imminent risk of death should be spared."

"I have here with me, gentlemen, the victim's bloodied clothes and her identity card, proving it to be true." Thomas placed the clothes on the pulpit.

"Since it is a royal decree-law, I will accept your plea," said the judge.

"No further questions, gentlemen," reported the defense attorney.

"You fool, you're risking your life..." Roland whispered to Thomas.

Thomas just winked at his friend.

"Prosecutor, would you like to question the witness?"

"Of course, Your Honor," said the prosecutor. "Then proceed," replied the judge.

"Mr. Thomas, how can you prove that Mrs. Elizabeth is not also a conspirator against the crown?" Asked the prosecutor.

"I can't, sir, but neither can you prove otherwise," Thomas said.

The prosecutor was all disconcerted, losing some of his posture. He then cleared his throat with a cough and continued. "What guarantees me that you are not also conspiring against the crown?" Attacked the prosecutor.

"I told you, sir, I hadn't seen Roland in 15 years until I found him bloodied at my door. I didn't even know Commander Belfort, and I barely knew Elizabeth, the owner of the inn, by her name."

The prosecutor got so confused that he bumped into his court wig and dropped it, a desperate action to put it back on. A tragically hilarious scene.

King Edward put one of his hands to his face in disapproval, but an idea hissed in his mind. "This is great. I can say that, without conclusive evidence, he is innocent but guilty of coldly killing Garrick, an army officer."

"That's enough; I'm tired; let Thomas go," Edward said.

The judge looked at the king and, after a brief pause, announced that the trial would be suspended until the next day, when the sentence would be handed down. Roland was escorted back to his cell, uncertainty and apprehension accompanying him like shadows. Concern for Thomas mingled with the urgency of caring for Elizabeth. If Thomas was caught, Elizabeth would die.

Back inside the cell, Roland sat on the floor, leaning against the cold, damp wall, the chains clinking. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He did not know what would happen now; the path ahead was full of dangers. He knew for sure that Thomas's testimony was not in the King's plans, and tomorrow's sentence would be an unknown until it was delivered.