Jarod felt as if he were floating. His head was drawn back slightly from the slight recoil in shock as his father’s sword tumbled end over end into the chasm. The weariness in his legs from the fight the night before evaporated, and a tingling sensation filled his arms and hands. They itched for Jarod to reach out and grab something.

  Matthias, the surveyor who’d thrown the sword over the side of the bridge, still reached out with his arms in a mock attempt to reach for the lost weapon. Nobody there could possibly think it was an accident, but it wouldn’t make any difference. The rich gentry who had passed through Cleftshire to survey the surrounding area, and who now acted as the judges in his trial, had no authority they needed to report to. Not for harassing peasants 100 miles from their capital city.

  With a couple more distant clangs of metal on stone, the sword disappeared into darkness, falling out of sight from the end of the bridge.

  Jarod felt that gut reaction to leap forward, to shrug off the couple of red-robed guards who held him by the arms, and to lunge at Matthias. As Voyager however, he thought that if he could keep himself under control, he might be able to use the situation to his advantage. Maybe he could use this as punishment enough. At the same time though, it felt wrong to just sit there and take it. Surely there must be some justice in the world, someone to show that callous gentry couldn’t keep getting away with treating peasants like they were nothing.

  Willpower Check (12)

  [8]

  Failure

  Another message appeared, but Jarod didn’t allow himself even a second to read it. Now was his chance to get revenge. With Matthias still standing right at the railing, Jarod shook himself from his guards in a surge of power and charged right at the smug bastard. Roaring in anger, he slammed his shoulder into the man and tackled him to the ground.

  Strength Contest

  Success on 3

  [5/10] successes

  Jarod wins

  Matthias had only time for his eyes to widen and the unconcealed grin on his face to drop, before he landed heavily with the wind knocked out of him. Jarod was on him instantly, swinging with reckless abandon at the man who had lost his father’s sword.

  Roll to hit

  Automatic hit on stunned opponent

  Hit for 2 damage

  Jarod didn’t relent. Swinging again and again, trying to land every hit he could before he was pried off his target. He felt Matthias’ nose crunch underneath his fist, and a river of blood started pouring down, getting sprayed about by the repeated blows.

  His time was up. Hands grabbed him by the neck and threw him back off Matthias. A fist came down against the back of his head. A solid thump that made him lose his bearings.

  Hit for 1 damage

  Health: 3/5

  Dark red and black spots swam in front of him, splotchy patterns overlaid on his ground-level view of the boots. Dark black boots that were running towards him. Then cold steel against his exposed flesh where his neck met his back.

  “You’ll pay for that.” Someone hissed — quiet, confident, and vengeful — against his ear. The blade pressed harder, just enough to draw a wet drip that smeared down the side of his neck as the blade drew around. “Any hope you had is gone.”

  Jarod’s mind was slow to shake its haze of anger, but slowly his vision came into focus again. As he stood before them, breathing heavily from the reactionary onslaught, his fists began to unclench. The rush of his emotional outburst was replaced with the sinking regret of realizing his own mistake. He’d gone into the encounter hoping to prove his own moral character. The only ground he’d stood on was of his own righteousness. Ground which he’d broken away beneath his own feet.

  “Haul him to his feet,” the voice of their leader spoke clearly over the commotion. “This peasant has no respect for our laws, and so he’ll face the full wrath of their consequences.”

  Fingers dug into Jarod’s arms as he was pulled upright, grip tight enough to bruise this time. He felt the flat of the metal still pressed against the back of his neck, blood slowly wicking down the blade to drip onto his shoulders.

  Strangling grip hauled him forward, past the other surveyors. He saw a group of them, including Avery, rush towards Matthias. Matthias was barely standing under the support of others, hands hovering over his nose fighting the compulsion to stop the blood against the pain of the sensitive angle it now jutted out at.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  They dragged him past the bridge and into the western part of town, until he was face to face with the leader. The man who stared down at him had bright hazel eyes that looked squarely into his own. He watched Jarod long enough to make his own men start to grow uneasy, shifting anxiously as they propped Jarod up, but unwilling to interrupt the thoughts of their leader.

  “You’d done so well.” His voice was clear and untouched by age. He looked down at Jarod with consternation, not quite sure what to make of the villager. “Despite the harsh treatment, you came to trial willingly and without argument. I must admit, It was unexpected for a commoner. Even a bit impressive.”

  He sighed audibly, even a bit dramatically. “And then you threw away all that goodwill by getting into this scuffle. You could have gone down to retrieve that sword whenever you wanted, but you let your emotions get the better of you. Before you even learned what you were being brought to trial for. Before you even learned my name.”

  The man glanced over Jarod’s shoulder to where the other surveyors had gathered. He could make out a strangled breathing coming from Matthias as he fought to choke back the blood and breathe through his mouth. It gave Jarod some grim satisfaction to see that the other man at least bore his injuries worse than himself, but it didn’t do much to soften the blow he knew was coming.

  “My name is Sir Nikolao Hawkbreaker. I am the captain of this surveyor’s team, sent to chart the villages along our western border with the Kingdom of Steigland. We came into this village peacefully, spending our own gold to enrich your town. I call you into questioning to ascertain the facts of a dispute between you and our own Avery Fellman, and before we have even begun, you have assaulted his brother, Matthias Fellman, for no more than an accident.”

  “You know it wasn’t…” Jarod started.

  “Silence. You will have your chance to speak. Your involvement in these affairs has been made perfectly clear to me. Based on what I’ve seen, the recommended sentence is imprisonment and labor for 10 years for multiple assaults on the gentry. What say you in your defense?”

  A cold sheet of white fell across Jarod’s face when he heard the sentence. 10 years in prison for defending himself seemed an absurd proposition. Despite his own opinions though, he heard Avery behind him calling out for more. A stern look from Nikolao silenced that protest, and the man turned back to face him, a measure of softness in his face. Maybe he’d be receptive to Jarod’s explanation.

  “Nikolao… Sir, I did attack them, but it was only to defend myself,” said Jarod. “Last night, I was knocked down into the mud by a blow to the back of my head by Avery. He came out of nowhere for no reason and just attacked me, so I had no choice but to defend myself.”

  “Is that true, Avery?” Nikolao turned to allow the other surveyor to answer.

  “Not even close,” said Avery. “I did call him some names, I’ll admit, but it was after a long night of drinking with those performers running about. It was all in good fun, and then this rat runs up and socks me right in the face. Taken by surprise as I was, I fell down and muddied some of my most expensive robes. He’s a little liar.”

  Nikolao glanced around at the other surveyors, waiting for someone to contradict Avery’s story, but the rest of them kept quiet.

  It was Jarod’s chance to win the point. “Sir, I can prove he attacked me if you’ll just instruct my guards to loosen their grip on my arms.”

  Nikolao nodded, and the two men standing on either side of him let him free, but kept a close eye on him. Jarod slowly turned around and lifted the hair on the back of his head up to show the evidence of Avery’s initial assault. A swollen bump, freshly scabbed over from the shallow cut of his knuckles, was clearly visible.

  “Well now, that does change the situation,” said Nikolao.

  “Nikolao, you can’t possibly believe him,” said Avery.

  “Quiet Avery. I won’t have you lying to me during official business. I’ll deal with you later.”

  Jarod couldn’t help but let himself grin. One entitled richling down, one to go.

  “Very well Jarod, you’ve made your point,” Nikolao said. “However, this brings us to your business on the bridge. How do you plan on explaining that one?”

  “You saw that one sir,” Jarod began. “Matthias meant to throw that sword over the bridge, there’s no doubt in my mind. Swords don’t just slip out of people’s hands like that.”

  Nikolao shook his head. “That’s not the question, I’m afraid. Losing your property gives you no grounds to assault a member of the gentry.”

  “That’s just how we do it out here. If anyone in town threw my father’s sword over the bridge, I’d have given them a beating, don’t matter who. Just happened to be one of your surveyors this time.”

  With a sigh, Nikolao responded. “I’m afraid that just won’t cut it for me. We have the legal system to deal with matters exactly like this, Jarod of Cleftshire.”

  “What, I’m just supposed to stand there and take it?”

  “Yes, that is precisely what you’re meant to do. Seeing as you’ve failed to keep yourself under control, however, I have no choice but to carry out your sentencing. The matter of the first assault has been cleared, but the second charge will stand.”

  Nikolao procured a scroll of parchment and a quill, and began writing as he spoke. “Jarod of Cleftshire, by the power vested in me by King Casimir of Exelscia, I hereby sentence you to 5 years of imprisonment and labor. For your crimes against the gentry, you are to be brought back with us and serve your sentence in Chath.”

  That floating sensation came back again: disbelief at his own circumstances. Jarod blinked hard, trying to clear his head, trying to make it all go away. This was his reality though. It all started because of Avery. If he hadn’t attacked Jarod last night, there would be no need for the trial today, no need for Matthias to throw the sword into the chasm, no need to defend his father’s honor. And yet, here he was.

  Past Nikolao, Jarod saw the other townsfolk of Clefshire gathered in the town square. He saw Basma, leaning on Wilfurd’s shoulder with a hand covering her mouth. Filgrin stood behind them in the distance, too far to read the look on his face. Jarod knew it couldn’t be good.

  Jarod looked out to the townsfolk again, hoping he could find some support, some way out of this. He was being punished entirely out of spite, with severity that clearly did not fit the crime. Surely someone would speak up on his behalf.

  Every face he saw among the village was shocked, but each and every one kept silent.

  Nikolao finished whatever he was writing and handed the parchment off to someone else. “We’ll be taking over the mayor’s office for the rest of the day. You’ll be kept under watch in the cellar until we leave tomorrow morning. We still have several more areas to survey, so you’ll travel along with us until we are able to send you off on a convoy to Chath where you’ll carry out your sentence.”

  Jarod dimly felt himself start to walk alongside his captors as his hands were drawn behind his back.”You can’t do this,” he said, not to anyone in particular, just so the world could hear his protest.

  “Come along,” said the guard to his left. “We’ll keep close watch over you, make sure you don’t get any bright ideas about running off.”

  Jarod saw Warin, the mayor, walk over to speak to Nikolao.

  “Umm, sir,” he said. “I don’t have any office like that. It’s just my house.”

  Nikolao turned to respond. “Ah, yes. That’s unfortunate. You do have a cellar?”

  Warin nodded.

  “Yes, well we’ll be out of your hair soon enough. No doubt our delinquent here is eager to begin the time on his sentence.”