Marxin paced back and forth in front of the crowd for a minute, tapping at his chin as he did so. Those that knew him well, and especially his students, knew that he was going over every single word he intended to say in his mind, repeatedly, so as not to misspeak. He did this with every important speech or lesson he was about to impart on a willing (or even unwilling) audience.
The crowd watched his every tap and seemed to breathe in sync with his steps. This was one of those times when his audience was eagerly anticipating his next words, all except one that is.
“I see that we have not one, but three issues before us now,” he called out using his teacher voice. “First, we have a dead body that we cannot identify. This is a problem because we can offer no condolences or notifications to his next of kin. There is not a one of us that would rest easy if any of our family were missing, never knowing if they were alive or dead in some small town off the beaten path.”
Murmurs of assent rolled through the crowd. Braun’s eyes rolled, “You believe that there’s a family somewhere worried about where their black sheep, assassin cousin vanished off to?”
“Ah,” Lowil responded with a sly smile. “So we have a majority opinion among our court that the dead stranger was in fact a murderer and his death was most certainly the result of self-defense in accordance with Kre’s testimony?”
Art laughed sharply, having an idea of what Lowil was up to, “Make that a unanimous opinion.”
Braun’s face glowed a deep red. He had just been tricked in admitting something that he refused to believe let alone say aloud. He slammed his hand on the table, hurting himself in the process but refusing to allow anyone to see the pain that was shooting up his arm. Not that anyone was paying him any mind, however, which only made him turn redder and angrier.
Lowil continued on as if Braun hadn’t tried to interrupt him, “The second issue at hand is that the death of a Dragon Knight is a serious and grave occasion.”
This time Braun weighed his words carefully, having no intention of falling into the Professor’s trap. “There is no evidence that Terry Cootsman is a Dragon Knight. You cannot cite thoughts and musings as factual evidence in a court.”
“True,” Lowil said as he spun around to face Braun, a wide smile on the teacher’s face. “But I wasn’t stating that Cootsman is in fact a Knight. I was simply saying that the death of a Dragon Knight, any Knight, is something that is out of our jurisdiction to judge. No one in this room can dispute that.”
Caught in another trap in this oratory bout of wits, Braun could only press his lips together tightly and narrow his eyes at his opponent. Lowil ignored the look and continued on, “It is true that we have no evidence that Cootsman is actually a Dragon Knight living here under a fake name.”
Someone from the audience called out, “Kre said that he was, that’s good enough for me.”
Lowil clapped his hands over his heart, “I feel the same, however, the rule of law does not, can not. Kre’s belief that Cootsman is a Knight is solely based on something that someone else told him.”
“The assassin,” someone else answered back, spitting as he did so.
“Yes, but unfortunately he is dead, so we cannot call upon him to testify. However, Kre did mention that the Lady with Blue Eyes also used the name Terync, the alleged name of Cooter’s Knight identity.”
One of the more boisterous lads stood up, “If you need me to search every tavern from here to Sandort to find this blue-eyed angel, I’ll do so happily!”
It took Marxin a bit to settle down the laughing crowd. “There is no need for that, though I doubt it will stop you from trying anyway.” There was more laughter along with a guilty shrug from the volunteer. “What we need,” Lowil stated, lowering his voice for dramatic effect, “is proof that Terry Cootsman is or is not a Dragon Knight named Terync Sandiscoot.”
“Ser Terync Sandiscoot,” Kre said softly, though his voice carried throughout the room. “Please use his title as a show of respect for the man that saved my life.”