It took Jon a moment to process it all. While certainly glad that he would be keeping his head, he still felt compelled to ask, “A flogging? Like a slave?"
The man simply shrugged. “You’re a halfbreed. To most, that isn’t too different from a southerner which is a synonym to slave. So this seemed like the most appropriate sentence,” the Olsandre nobleman said before he turned around and began walking down the tunnel, motioning Jon to follow along. “Besides, this is the best for you in the long run.”
“How so?”
“You attacked two nobles. If people don’t see you getting a harsh punishment, then they might try to take the matter into their own hands. That’s why the flogging will be carried out in public for everyone to see. Better to suffer now than to keep looking over your shoulder for the rest of your time here.”
“I wonder why my lord would be concerned about me.”
The nobleman continued walking, but he turned his head to the side to look at Jon.
Jon’s eyes had finally gotten used to the bright light. Not only rings, but the nobleman also lacked any sort of jewelry that might serve to display his wealth. The clothes were finely made but had no adornments or intricate embroidery that other nobles tended to wear. His lips were curved into a smile that failed to reach his cold green eyes, and his wrinkled face was shaven clean.
He had seen this man before. On the accolade after the Squire’s Tourney, but also much earlier than that, at the war camp. “Lord Lanard,” he noted.
Lanard said nothing at first, limiting himself to a simple nod of the head. He fished inside a pocket for a folded piece of paper that he handed to Jon.
It was a letter, its contents not as important as the language it was written on. English. It was one of the letters that Jon had translated years back.
“After Vasilis’ execution, I managed to find a scholar who translated the letters. There were some slight differences in the exact words used, but the contents were the same, confirming what you told us before. You wanted to know why I’m concerned. Like I said before, us nobles have long memories, be it for revenge or for gratitude.”
Jon tried not to think about what would happen if Lanard learned the truth of what he did.
The two continued walking until reaching a wide square room, the faded image of a yellow sunburst painted on the floor. At its center, atop a stone block, stood an old geomancer, the same one who brought Jon down here in the first place. Directly above it was a large hole in the ceiling that led back to the main building. Lanard effortlessly jumped atop the block followed, with some more difficulty, by Jon.
“Shall we return, my lord?” asked the geomancer.
“Before we do, answer me something. You didn’t use your magic to eavesdrop on what I was saying, did you?”
“I would never.”
“Good, because I would rather not have to imprison you down here next. Now, take us back to the surface.”
With a lurch, the stone block flew up, carrying the trio along with it. When it finally came to a stop at the entrance hall, Jon immediately jumped towards the floor. He never wanted to return back there again.
Lanard jumped off next, striding towards the stairs as soon as his feet touched the floor. “The trial shall take place at the headmaster’s office. Come with me.”
Jon followed him through the flights of stairs and an empty hallway, both of which lacked the decorations that could be found throughout the rest of the academy.
There were only three other people inside the office, a small room with an open window at the far end. To the left, standing by a bookcase, stood Garrel and the woman who accompanied him in attacking Jon. The other man was nowhere to be seen, likely because he was just a commoner. The only reason for this trial was the fact that two nobles were injured, after all.
The old headmaster sat by a chair at the opposite side of the room, a frown on his face that only deepened as he lay eyes on Jon. Still, he stood and bowed in respect to Lanard, same for the other two.
“We all know why we’re here, so let us get this done with.” Lanard walked towards the desk at the back of the room and sat behind it. “A week ago there was a fight at the first-years dormitory. Lord Vypren and lady Krey, you both accuse Jon of attacking you, is that correct?”
“That’s correct, my lord. The two of us were at the entrance hall, talking about classes when this halfbreed cowardly attacked us without any sort of provocation. We were caught by surprise, which is the only reason why he managed to injure us. Another student who saw everything and tried to intervene was similarly injured by him. He’s a danger not only to the academy students but to anyone he might come across. We urge for his execution.”
Lanard nodded. “A most grave offense. Willfully attacking a noble outside the conditions of a duel is indeed grounds for execution, but first, we must hear what the accused has to say. Jon of Rochdale, do you confirm or deny the accusations against you?”
“I deny it, my lord,” Jon answered, keeping up the pretense. “They were the ones who attacked me. I had been on my way back to my room when I received a punch in the face and rolled down the stairs. Despite the surprise attack, I still managed to fend them off.”
The Krey woman’s face reddened. “That’s an obvious lie. We are all at similar stages of cultivation. How would he alone manage to beat us?”
I began by crushing your friend’s balls, Jon almost blurted out. Instead, he said, “It all happened at the landing between the third and fourth floors. Just look for any blood splatter on there and you’ll know I speak the truth.”
“That’s a good point.” Lanard turned to the headmaster. “Were any signs of struggle noticed at the dormitories?”
“None. Soon after coming to my attention, I ordered the guards to scour every part of the dormitory and everything was clean, be it the entrance hall, be it the stairs. Whoever’s guilty must have made sure to wipe everything clean.”
“Meaning we can’t be sure of who to believe. You have both given your sides of the story. Does anyone have any witness to bring forward?”
“We do,” Garrel declared. “In total, we have gathered a list of other students who will attest to how unstable the halfbreed truly is.”
“Did any of these other students witness the incident?” Lanard asked to the surprise of Garrel.
“N-No, but—”
“This trial is about the incident itself. If they didn’t witness it, then they have nothing to say about it. As for the other side, it has come to my attention that some have sent their testimonies in favor of the halfbreed, is that correct?”
Jon had no idea of what Lanard was talking about.
“That’s correct,” said the headmaster as he settled six letters atop the desk. “Students Nevil Ullrich, Bellatrix Teer, Aeron Brodrick, and Deon du Bocage as well as professors Cedrik and Willow Breckon.”
“Did any of them witness the incident?” Lanard asked, and the headmaster shook his head. “Then there’s no need to hear from them either. The way I see it, it’s one side’s word against the other’s as for who instigated the fight.”
Lanard made a show of crossing his arms and closing his eyes, as if deep in thought. After an uncomfortable stretch of time like that, he finally opened his eyes and said, “I’ve come to a decision. The only thing we know for certain is that two nobles were injured by the accused, so I must declare him guilty.”
Garrel’s face broke into a smile, same as his companion. The headmaster’s frown, on the other hand, never left his face.
