The White Dragon by Salvador Mercer Read Free Book Online Page A

and the usual rumor mill was in high gear that night. The arrival of the justiciar gave a sort of solemn legality to what would have otherwise been a mockery of their justice system, given the players involved.
    The session started late in the morning when it was almost high noon. Eric was feeling much better and marveled at the healing power of the Akun cleric. It was most unnatural, and despite having used healing potions, herbs, rituals, and other things to aid in his recovery in the past, nothing quite felt this way. He almost felt ten years younger.
    “Ready, Eric?” Lucius asked.
    “I guess so,” Eric responded, picking up and then putting back down the walking stick that was set next to the bed for him. He felt that he would need it the day before, but this day, he felt as if he could almost run, if not fly.
    The guards accompanied them to the hall and had to clear a path to the side door. It was standing room only, and the crowd spilled out into the street. There were murmurs at the sight of Eric, but no one yelled or screamed anything nasty at the mercenary leader. The presence of the Ulathan royal guards in their shiny chainmail, brightly colored cloaks, and gleaming steel weapons were unlike most things seen in the small town. They had serious faces and brooked no foolishness from anyone.
    Once the parties were all present, Corwin came in through the backstage door and took a seat. There was no call to rise, as everyone was already standing. When the justiciar sat down, those with chairs did the same.
    “Call to order,” Titus said in a loud voice from behind his scribing table. “Are you ready, Magistrate Galen?”
    “I am,” Galen retorted, giving a sideways glance at Eric, who remained standing behind one of two tables set out for them.
    “Who represents the accused?” Titus asked.
    “I do,” Eric said, his voice clear and commanding despite the circumstances.
    “We’ll let the record show the accused is self-defending,” Titus said, writing something down on a sheet of parchment in front of him. “Ready, my lord.”
    Corwin nodded. “Eric Bain, leader of The Hunt. Do you wish to hear the formal charges against you?” The title was the best Eric had earned in his entire career, and the fact that he had any title at all was remarkable since he was not nobility and had no official government position.
    “My associate, Lucius Ewellyn, informed me last night of the charges. I waive a formal reading,” Eric said, repeating what Titus had told him to say only five minutes earlier. Most charges were done this way as the time of the most intense emotion for the victim’s family was during the reading of the charges. This was a simple formality, and Eric had no stomach to hear the word treason and his name associated in the same sentence together.
    “Magistrate Galen, the floor is yours,” Corwin said, giving the man a slight nod.
    “Thank you, Justiciar Corwin,” Galen said, walking to his assistant and pulling out a small pouch and walking over to Titus. He pulled out a necklace with what looked like a family emblem. “I call upon the widow, Mrs. James Tolk.”
    A woman dressed in a brown dress, but with a black armband on her right arm, came forward, assisted by an elderly man. She took a seat at the base of the stage and wiped away tears from her face.
    “I understand that you’re the wife of James Tolk?” Galen asked not the least bit delicately considering her state of sorrow.
    “So typical,” Eric whispered to Lucius, who sat next to him, both men having taken their seats once the beginning formalities were taken care of. Lucius nodded but said nothing.
    “I am,” the woman said.
    “State your name for the record,” Galen prompted.
    “Julie Tolk,” she said.
    Galen held up the necklace with the emblem token attached to it. “Do you recognize this charm?” he asked.
    Julie nodded. “Yes, that is James’ family crest, the Tolk crest.”
    “And it belonged to