The Perfect Sort of Trial (that nobody wins) [narrative]
It had been a long, strange day.
Normally, when Ali entertained, her "guests" were at ease and happy--at least by the end of things. Friendships were strengthened and laughter was free. But today, the slowly-growing gathering of assorted acquaintances had a nervous undercurrent. Everyone went through the motions: watching movies, eating popcorn, talking and occasionally trying to tell a joke. Ali tried very hard to be a good hostess, making her visitors as comfortable as possible in such circumstances. But there were also nervous whisperings, subtle posturing, and downright fear. To say the jokes went over like a lead balloon would give them too much credit for levity.
By the time the last of the "guests" and visitors arrived, the uninitiated would be forgiven for thinking that the gathering was a disastrous attempt to bring two very different groups of people together. And it was, to be sure, a motley assortment: some in designer clothes, others in beat-up jeans; some with the good looks and graces of angels, others with the snarling visage of devils; some plain and some so decorated they were nearly carcitures of themselves; some friendly and some decidedly not.
Those in the know would realize that court was about to convene. Court was about to convene, and somebody was in very big trouble.
---
After the goslings were put to bed and were quite beyond having to be involved in such terrible things, the friendly and hospitable veneer of the day was discarded. The Duchess was not pleased, and would know why so many of her friends, the people for whom she cared so dearly and so well, would do so much to defy her.
They had plenty of answers, excuses, defenses, and accusations to offer. Sorting through them took hours. Every social and political party in the kingdom seemed to be represented; everyone was given a chance to be heard. Slowly, inevitably, the lines were drawn and sides taken. Very few stood with the Duchess: a Gwydion knight who knew her motives to be pure, a few Trolls and Redcaps who had always found her just and understanding, and those who loved her despite her failings. The other parties present collected into two groups.
The first, nobles and Sidhe like the Duchess herself and their most loyal retainers, invoking the ancient ways and rights, claiming that they did what was best by protecting themselves; claiming that the commoners had no idea how to rule and thus should not question the decisions made by their betters. Count Conerlaihn argued that his increases in taxes were made necessary by the "liberalist stirrings of the common people" so that he could better afford to protect his county. He claimed to have had no knowledge of any cold iron on his property, and accused the commoners of having brought it in a plan to assassinate him. Further, in his reasoning, forcing the new Oath of Loyal Affirmation on any of his subjects he could find, as well as the taking of hostages from every freehold in his jurisdiction, were further efforts toward protection. His cause was taken up by several other minor nobles who believed in the old ways and felt that commoners had no right to question such, even after parts of his testimony were found to be false.
The opposition, commoners and some few Sidhe who had their own dreams of liberty, cried out for freedom from tyranny and oppression; claiming the Duchess and all her ilk had what she got and worse coming to them. The members of the Commoners' Liberation Organization, who stood as one, claimed Conerlaihn was charging excessive taxes on his people, and that since the Duchess had not reined him in immediately she showed passive approval. Their plan to relieve the Count of his excess dross was, in their arguments, the just and logical response to such outrages. Having found the Count to also be stockpiling cold iron was, further, what provoked such violence against the Duchess' own person, since she must have known about the weapons and the Count's plans for using them against the commoners. It was, in a way, self-defense; a preemptive strike. Many other groups, the Sons of Liberty and newer leaders on the scene, tried to defend the commoners. However questionable their logic, no overt lies could be found in their statements of fact.
Neither side was particularly fond of the Duchess that night. Both begrudgingly admitted (or claimed was a fault) her steps to include all her people in all her decisions for the duchy, that she accepted and sought counsel from all sides, that she had done much to protect and enrich all fellow fae. Invocations of the Liberty Tree were silenced by reminders of from whom and how the new one grew; invocations of the ancient ways fell off when reminders were made that special birth did not translate into special privileges.
In the end, all parties before the Duchess were found equally guilty. The commoners, led by the still-absent Pooka Fenarius, were found guilty of burglary, attempted murder, and treason against the Dreaming. Count Conerlaihn was found guilty of multiple abuses of power as well as the same treason against the Dreaming. All parties were given the same sentence: to give back as good as they gave out.
To that end, the commoners known to have been part of or party to the plans for the raid against the Count's stores of dross were expected to either recover or replace to an equal value every bit dumped into the harbor, so that the excessive taxes paid might be returned. This they begrudgingly accepted as fair enough, and with many volunteers to help them began to think they were getting off easy. This misconception was soon shattered when the Duchess proclaimed that the same ruling would serve for their attack against herself.
Protests that she could not possibly judge fairly the measure of such punishment against those who had harmed her did not fall on deaf ears; with a cruel smile, the Duchess agreed, and presented a "completely uninvolved party who cares nothing for our politics and very deeply for justice" who would serve as judge for these measures: her own husband, Enchanted and allowed to witness the trial. Further protests were ignored. Unsurprisingly, there were no volunteers to help with this part of the punishment.
And then there was the Count to deal with. He was ordered to also provide dross in the amount of the excess taxes, collected himself from his own Dreamers, in order to make reparations; to free all those he forced into new oaths of loyalty from such; and to explain why so much cold iron was in his possession. Protests against this punishment were given less consideration than the commoners had found, as the Duchess has no patience for liars; when he refused to accept the terms, the Count was reminded his only alternative was death. The commoners would be freed of their oaths, the Duchess proclaimed, "one way or the other".
This, he found more agreeable. He gave the Duchess a sweeping bow, and asked for the manner of his death. Many suggestions for methods and offers to do the deed were made, many gruesome and most cruel. In the end, the Duchess decided on poison, a means both more gentle and more graceful than the Count probably deserved. But martyrs, she knew, would grow stronger in myth the less mercy they were shown.
And then he was dead, leaving the Duchess with one last decision to make that horrible night: who would replace him. There were, again, many suggestions; again, she took none of them. Perhaps a spirit of mischief had whispered an idea in her ear, or maybe she had some greater scheme in mind. Either way, she eventually chose a native son of Boston, known to many and known to be somewhat familiar with the current fragmented politics of their kind: General Adama.
Normally, when Ali entertained, her "guests" were at ease and happy--at least by the end of things. Friendships were strengthened and laughter was free. But today, the slowly-growing gathering of assorted acquaintances had a nervous undercurrent. Everyone went through the motions: watching movies, eating popcorn, talking and occasionally trying to tell a joke. Ali tried very hard to be a good hostess, making her visitors as comfortable as possible in such circumstances. But there were also nervous whisperings, subtle posturing, and downright fear. To say the jokes went over like a lead balloon would give them too much credit for levity.
By the time the last of the "guests" and visitors arrived, the uninitiated would be forgiven for thinking that the gathering was a disastrous attempt to bring two very different groups of people together. And it was, to be sure, a motley assortment: some in designer clothes, others in beat-up jeans; some with the good looks and graces of angels, others with the snarling visage of devils; some plain and some so decorated they were nearly carcitures of themselves; some friendly and some decidedly not.
Those in the know would realize that court was about to convene. Court was about to convene, and somebody was in very big trouble.
---
After the goslings were put to bed and were quite beyond having to be involved in such terrible things, the friendly and hospitable veneer of the day was discarded. The Duchess was not pleased, and would know why so many of her friends, the people for whom she cared so dearly and so well, would do so much to defy her.
They had plenty of answers, excuses, defenses, and accusations to offer. Sorting through them took hours. Every social and political party in the kingdom seemed to be represented; everyone was given a chance to be heard. Slowly, inevitably, the lines were drawn and sides taken. Very few stood with the Duchess: a Gwydion knight who knew her motives to be pure, a few Trolls and Redcaps who had always found her just and understanding, and those who loved her despite her failings. The other parties present collected into two groups.
The first, nobles and Sidhe like the Duchess herself and their most loyal retainers, invoking the ancient ways and rights, claiming that they did what was best by protecting themselves; claiming that the commoners had no idea how to rule and thus should not question the decisions made by their betters. Count Conerlaihn argued that his increases in taxes were made necessary by the "liberalist stirrings of the common people" so that he could better afford to protect his county. He claimed to have had no knowledge of any cold iron on his property, and accused the commoners of having brought it in a plan to assassinate him. Further, in his reasoning, forcing the new Oath of Loyal Affirmation on any of his subjects he could find, as well as the taking of hostages from every freehold in his jurisdiction, were further efforts toward protection. His cause was taken up by several other minor nobles who believed in the old ways and felt that commoners had no right to question such, even after parts of his testimony were found to be false.
The opposition, commoners and some few Sidhe who had their own dreams of liberty, cried out for freedom from tyranny and oppression; claiming the Duchess and all her ilk had what she got and worse coming to them. The members of the Commoners' Liberation Organization, who stood as one, claimed Conerlaihn was charging excessive taxes on his people, and that since the Duchess had not reined him in immediately she showed passive approval. Their plan to relieve the Count of his excess dross was, in their arguments, the just and logical response to such outrages. Having found the Count to also be stockpiling cold iron was, further, what provoked such violence against the Duchess' own person, since she must have known about the weapons and the Count's plans for using them against the commoners. It was, in a way, self-defense; a preemptive strike. Many other groups, the Sons of Liberty and newer leaders on the scene, tried to defend the commoners. However questionable their logic, no overt lies could be found in their statements of fact.
Neither side was particularly fond of the Duchess that night. Both begrudgingly admitted (or claimed was a fault) her steps to include all her people in all her decisions for the duchy, that she accepted and sought counsel from all sides, that she had done much to protect and enrich all fellow fae. Invocations of the Liberty Tree were silenced by reminders of from whom and how the new one grew; invocations of the ancient ways fell off when reminders were made that special birth did not translate into special privileges.
In the end, all parties before the Duchess were found equally guilty. The commoners, led by the still-absent Pooka Fenarius, were found guilty of burglary, attempted murder, and treason against the Dreaming. Count Conerlaihn was found guilty of multiple abuses of power as well as the same treason against the Dreaming. All parties were given the same sentence: to give back as good as they gave out.
To that end, the commoners known to have been part of or party to the plans for the raid against the Count's stores of dross were expected to either recover or replace to an equal value every bit dumped into the harbor, so that the excessive taxes paid might be returned. This they begrudgingly accepted as fair enough, and with many volunteers to help them began to think they were getting off easy. This misconception was soon shattered when the Duchess proclaimed that the same ruling would serve for their attack against herself.
Protests that she could not possibly judge fairly the measure of such punishment against those who had harmed her did not fall on deaf ears; with a cruel smile, the Duchess agreed, and presented a "completely uninvolved party who cares nothing for our politics and very deeply for justice" who would serve as judge for these measures: her own husband, Enchanted and allowed to witness the trial. Further protests were ignored. Unsurprisingly, there were no volunteers to help with this part of the punishment.
And then there was the Count to deal with. He was ordered to also provide dross in the amount of the excess taxes, collected himself from his own Dreamers, in order to make reparations; to free all those he forced into new oaths of loyalty from such; and to explain why so much cold iron was in his possession. Protests against this punishment were given less consideration than the commoners had found, as the Duchess has no patience for liars; when he refused to accept the terms, the Count was reminded his only alternative was death. The commoners would be freed of their oaths, the Duchess proclaimed, "one way or the other".
This, he found more agreeable. He gave the Duchess a sweeping bow, and asked for the manner of his death. Many suggestions for methods and offers to do the deed were made, many gruesome and most cruel. In the end, the Duchess decided on poison, a means both more gentle and more graceful than the Count probably deserved. But martyrs, she knew, would grow stronger in myth the less mercy they were shown.
And then he was dead, leaving the Duchess with one last decision to make that horrible night: who would replace him. There were, again, many suggestions; again, she took none of them. Perhaps a spirit of mischief had whispered an idea in her ear, or maybe she had some greater scheme in mind. Either way, she eventually chose a native son of Boston, known to many and known to be somewhat familiar with the current fragmented politics of their kind: General Adama.