12 A New Order

Light clapping sounded throughout the courtroom from the highborn. Soreb looked pleased; he got the approval he sought from his subjects. Maybe now Goerlsted will be pleased. He raised his hands to get everyone's attention. The court quieted.

He spoke; "now I must decide the fate of Belgarast, and already I have it in mind. Exile from my fold and from my lands!"

He turned to the accused, declaring for all to hear; "Belgarast. You have dishonored me, and therefore I hereby declare you banished from my Barony. Your crimes will be told far and wide throughout my realm and your visage will be linked with that of a liar, a thief and adulterer. None under Ganador's rule shall shelter you henceforth. If you are spotted here once more, you shall be locked away in this keep's dungeon. Thus is your fate, Oath-Breaker."

Belgarast's head hung low. His shoulders drooped. He didn't expect to win the court case, but he still pulled all he could from his sleeves. Though he now thought that no matter what, his fate was sealed long before he first entered the court. Even Sare Juuliack, Frederick's wife, was most likely assigned to patrol duty or maybe wasn't even told of the proceeding today save from her husband. She and others would have stood by him.

Soreb continued; "As we speak, your items are being packed away within your quarters. Throughout your recovery, some in the keep had lobbied to have your armor, what was left of it, repaired," he motioned to the main double doors as some servants wheeled in an armor stand, "and this is what the keep's armor-smithy could salvage."

Belgarast turned as the wheels squeaked forward. The armor stand held on it only a right steel greave, steel leg armor with faulds intact, a chest-plate holding no heraldry, a right pauldron, a right gauntlet and a helm. The helm was different from the one Belgarast wore before; instead of the horizontally conical bascinet visor, it had a vertical, sleek, slightly tapered visor with a single long eye slit.

Belgarast noticed how they already had his heraldry removed. His future was sealed long before this moment and this confirmed it.

"I assure you," Soreb said, "that these pieces are as close as possible to the original set the late Sir Targassus bequeathed to you. Most of the steel making it up is actually of that original set. You may take it with you once you leave. Note that this act of kindness was tolerated only because I knew not of your...'affections' for my daughter. Now-"

The bishop cleared his throat; "Thank you, Lord Baron but I have seen enough" he said in his deep, steady, void-like tone.

Belgarast's head shot up. What was he doing? It was not his place to be speaking in a secular proceeding.

Soreb stuttered, quietly saying "Lord-Lord Bishop I must ask you to-"

"Enough, I said." Goerlsted arose and walked down the stone steps leading from the Baron's table. He wore his red and white robes of the church, as well as ceremonial soot-black pauldrons over top of his robes. He had medium length, graying dark-brown hair about a face ripe with both age and vitality. His eyes were narrow and deeply set. He stood tall over a regular man, and even had the musculature to back it.

Soreb sat down as the Bishop stood beside Belgarast.

Goerlsted ignored the accused and addressed the assembly; "Subjects of Cindielium! Mortals in Varkil's Shadow! Hear me! I have but one question. Do you trust Soreb?"

Soreb arose and the fires of anger flushed his cheeks once more; "What is the meaning of this-"

"Quiet, Soreb." Goerlsted shot him a glare, and Soreb piped down but the flames in his heart grew only hotter.

The attendees did not answer.

"This man who had allowed a creature, as we have all heard the story, not only sneak past his walls, but even into the heart of his hold, snatch away his daughter, fail to control his own knighthood," he motioned to Belgarast, "and subsequently fail to aptly punish the accused?"

Some of them nodded to one another after hearing this.

Soreb shouted "I run my hold as I see fit! I am allowed autonomy beneath the Church as my forefathers swore it! How dare-"

"But," Goerlsted said, his tone only raising above that of the Baron and not changing in emotion, "the oath they swore held in it's tenets that 'should a Lord or Lady fail to uphold the standard set upon them, and the Church receives extensive reports and proof of the corruption, negligence, greed, etc., said Lord or Lady will relinquish control of their land to the residing Bishop until such a time the Church sees it fit to give back control.' This tenet has aptly been named the Guiding Light Act," he produced a parchment from within his robes, "and here is the writ from the Church declaring the initiation of said Act; given to me after months of investigations reported directly to the Office of Internal Investigations within the City of Cindielium."

Goerlsted approached the Baron, handing him the parchment. He swiped it from his hands and skimmed over it.

"By Varkil," he muttered. He fell and sank into his chair.

"Now I had free reign," Goerlsted began, "to enact this whenever I wanted, as stated in the writ, but I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt; despite the proof of corruption within your court, which is why I requested a sit-in on this court proceeding. I hoped that you would meet my expectations this one time but it seems as though you couldn't." He turned to the accused. "This man should have been executed! Beheaded!" His tone rose to anger; none dared to interrupt the roar in his throat. "Ignoring the obviousness of you purposefully filling the jury benches of those highborn who would bend over and kiss your taint if you so much as suggested it, I must remind you that 'Wrath to the Unjust' is of our core tenets to the Divine Doctrines; for liars, thieves and those who would topple our society through self-gain. He should have been stripped of his name at the very least yet you mercifully banish him? Worse yet; you send him off with a knight's armor and his belongings are packed as well! What, were you going to pack him his lunch too?"

Baron Soreb made no comment; he looked down at his hands.

More people saw the Baron falter and questioned his ability.

"I see." Goerlsted looked over the assembly, declaring "I now claim full control over the Ganador Barony as Soreb has lost the ability to safeguard his people if an intruder can sneak their way into his keep; the most secure place in his Barony. Baron Soreb will retain his title and his position however all orders must first be approved by myself. I will reside above the Baron and act as this realm's ruler. My word is henceforth law."

On cue, the double doors leading to the hall outside opened. A procession of twelve Churchile Guardsmen entered; a full squad. They wore light plate which was painted crimson with orange and yellow decorative work. Their helms' tops curved up to a slight ridge, and their door-visors tapered to a point with circular eye holes and vertical breathing slits.

"Four more squadrons of these Churchile Guardsmen shall be arriving within the week to accompany the two that arrived today. This squad is but a small sample of one" Goerlsted said.

Belgarast was terrified and confused as the twelve Guardsmen marched around him, and took their place in two groups of six on either side of the Bishop. Some people on the benches hardly moved; their eyes and mouths wide in shock and fear; murmurs abound. Others were not so afraid after hearing the Bishop. The knights took silent offense to this outrage, while their spouses and other nobility feared for their positions. The Baroness made no move and kept her wide eyes on the Bishop. The Steward sheepishly retreated to his seat.

Goerlsted nodded to those at his side, and they dispersed and each approached a House Guard along the walls. The House Guards themselves wore light steel chest-plates, shin and forearm guards and studded leather everywhere else. Their helms were conical with nose-guards and chain covering the rest of their head save for their faces.

"As we speak, the men under my command will now be in charge of security within the Town of Ganador. The House Guards of Baron Soreb are relieved as of this moment. Turn over your weapons and doff your armor in the armory."

The House Guards, looking around and at each other, each relinquished their weapons to their respective Churchile Guardsmen. Goerlsted motioned them away, and each began to leave the courtroom.

Belgarast looked to the Baron; hoping to lock eyes with him and plead wordlessly for him to do something. He was still; his head was in his hands and his wife tried consoling him with a hand on his back.

Goerlsted looked down upon Belgarast, disgusted. "Sadly, I am only permitted to rescind decrees of the Baron made before my taking control in dire circumstances. I haven't the time for you, Oath-breaker. Leave with your belongings. Now."

Belgarast simply looked up at him. Dumb-struck.

What... what was happening?

Frederick grabbed his arm; "Come on, Belgarast. You can no longer stay here. I'll help you to your room then I must meet with my wife."

The two left with Belgarast's 'new' armor being carried behind them by the few servants who wheeled in the armor stand as Goerlsted addressed the rest of the people who remained in the courtroom; decreeing a new curfew, a new policing system, etc.. All throughout the halls now marched the Church Guardsmen, and the solemn House Guards had no power to resist their takeover. Those that did received sound beatings. The entire keep was in uproar yet the Guardsmen all walked and marched as if everything was in order amidst the chaos.

Frederick liked to have one-sided conversations with Belgarast. As they dodged processions of Guardsmen he said "I don't understand. To garrison the town he only needs four squadrons of guards and yet he has ordered for six? What is this place coming to?"

Belgarast hardly paid attention as Frederick spoke practically to himself. He watched as the world around him was arrested and replaced.

They made it to his quarters. Belgarast made for the door when Frederick paused.

"This is goodbye, Belgarast," said Frederick.

Belgarast shot him a desperate look. He hadn't thought about how he wouldn't see Frederick again; his only friend.

"I know. I am sorry but it would be treason to be seen with you now; you know the sentence you received and I cannot drag my wife into it. I am sorry, my friend. You are one of the kindest, most selfless people I know; never forget that. I am desperately needed by my wife; she has to know what is happening before she tries to kill one of the Guardsmen."

Frederick turned away. Belgarast grabbed his arm and pulled him into a tight hug. Some tears soaked Frederick's shirt. Frederick hugged him back with strength and friendship to match.

"I feel as though we will meet once again, Belgarast. I will never forget you."

With that Frederick left. Belgarast stood there for a time, but resolved to enter his quarters with the servants. His room was bare, and his belongings packed on his bed. His material things were few, and could fit neatly into a leather backpack, a satchel and a cloth sack.

"Come, Belgarast, we'll help you into your armor. Can you wear it?" asked one of the servants.

He knew that it was still somewhat difficult for him to get changed into linens due to the pain, but he didn't care. He nodded to the servants who helped to place the armor on him. The armor was plain and was that unpolished black color. He saw on his stand in the corner of the room that the only things left untouched were the beast's green hood and his ornate broadsword from the tomb. He didn't question why they weren't packed.

After the servants closed the last armor clasp and slung the last satchel over his shoulder they departed. Belgarast then wrapped his sword belt around him and tightened the clasp on his sheath. He saw the hood on the stand; hanging there. It hadn't been touched since it was first put there those months ago.

He contemplated leaving it. The sight of it reminded him of the beast, and the vestiges of the pool of terror within his stomach still lingered. A familiar warmth came from the sword at his side. One he hadn't felt in ages. It was a good feeling.

He took a deep breath and took the hood. He put it over his helmet and pulled it far down.

He left the Keep in a hurry; limping still with his cane. He didn't want to give the Bishop any reason to imprison him.

He walked through the streets of town as the last sliver of sun disappeared beneath the horizon. Squads of Guardsmen marched towards the keep to receive their orders and stations; their boots crunching the autumn leaves scattered through the town's roads. The civilians knew to keep indoors.

As he left the outer gate of the town, which was still manned by House Guards at this point, he turned around before they closed the gate and saw against the horizon the keep and the town's many buildings. The greatest skyline he had ever seen in his life. His home.

He turned back toward the road; pulling his hood to shield from the cool fall wind.

Belgarast knew he walked now into an uncertain future as an Oath-Breaker.