Adventure of Battista 1

The granary yard settles into a thin, uneasy calm. Dust drifts over trampled straw, and the bound prisoners are gathered for the road to Malkich. Kaelen checks Lord Tranis’s cords again while Stephen scans the quiet horizon.

A younger bailiff, ink-stained and stiff with duty, steps up beside the reeve with a rolled parchment and a wax seal. The legal chain is beginning to form around Tranis before he even leaves the yard.

Kaelen tightens the final knot on Tranis’s bindings and pushes him toward the road. The lord remains silent, stripped of command, while the yard’s new order watches him go. Battista can see the path now, clear and hard, leading straight to Crown justice in Malkich.

Battista steps in at the wagon rail, helping lift Tranis’s slack weight into the back while the wheels creak under the load. The younger bailiff hovers with the parchment, watching every motion like it might become a legal mistake.

Stephen presses cloth to the wounded side, but the makeshift bundle slips at once and darkens fast. Tranis gives a weak groan, still too loose in the ropes to help, while Kaelen grabs the wagon board and shifts to keep the body from sliding.

The younger bailiff recoils from the stain, then thrusts the seal forward toward the reeve as if the paper alone can hold the moment together.

Battista’s help settles Tranis into place, but the wound keeps seeping through the cloth, turning the wagon floor slick and urgent. The departure now depends on whether they can secure him before the jolt of the road turns this into a worse problem.

Kaelen straightens, already turning for the driver as the younger bailiff flinches at the word sewn and looks toward the gate instead of the wound.

Stephen tightens the cloth again, then reaches for the ropes around Tranis with a rough, practical grip. The wagon no longer waits in place, it has an order now, and that order is departure.

Battista stands by the rail as the first movement begins, the yard behind him settling under Crown custody while the wagon eases toward the gate and the barber beyond it.

Kaelen’s view catches the barber’s doorway as it opens wide, and Battista steps in with Stephen at his shoulder, the two of them bearing Tranis between them. The wounded lord crosses the threshold at once, his boots leaving a faint smear on the stone.

The shop smells of sharp soap and smoke. A copper basin sits under the window, and the barber’s chair waits empty while the wagon creaks outside.

Battista shifts his grip to take more of the weight, and Tranis sags heavily for a breath before Stephen hauls him upright again.

A strip of blood-wet cloth slips from Stephen’s hand and drops to the floorboards, left behind in the hurry.

Kaelen watches them clear the entry, judging the room, the tools, the light, and the time it will cost. The barber has what is needed, but every heartbeat spent here slows the road to Malkich.

Outside, the wagon pauses by the gate while the escort compresses into the shop around Tranis, forcing the next choice onto the men with clean hands.

The barber jerks into motion at once, snatching up linen and needle from his bench as the room tightens around the command.

Stephen braces Tranis flat across the chair, and the blood-wet cloth is pressed hard into the wound while the barber works.

Battista’s words earn the room’s obedience, but the price is the sudden spill of urgency, tools clattering on wood as the wagonmen outside call for the road.

The barber draws the first stitch tight, and the escort begins shifting back toward the door, ready to take Tranis out alive or leave him here in pieces.

The barber ties off the final stitch, then rinses the wound with vinegar until the sharp smell cuts through the shop. Stephen eases back just enough for the old man to work, and Tranis gives a weak twitch under the cloth.

He works honey into the seam, then lays clean linen across the chest and winds it snug into a bandage. The bleeding slows to a stain.

Battista’s command has paid off. The prisoner is stabilized, and the Crown’s men begin shifting toward the door with their burden, the road to Malkich finally opening.

Outside, a wagon wheel creaks in the lane, and the escort pauses at the threshold, waiting on the next order.

Battista and Stephen spread the barber’s blanket wide, then lift Tranis onto it with careful hands. The cloth sags into a sling, and the unconscious lord lies stiller than before.

Battista takes the front corner, Stephen the rear, and they haul the bundled weight toward the door in one controlled pull.

The doorway swallows the stretcher, and the wagon waits just outside with its boards ready for the load.

They set Tranis down without a thump. The blanket stays tight beneath him, arms and legs pinned close as the escort makes room.

Beyond the wagon, the lane opens toward Malkich, but the crew is still waiting on the final lift and the road is not yet clear.

Battista leaves barber's shop behind and arrives at Royal Court.

Royal Court rises beyond the wagon yard, its white stones bright beneath the morning bells. Crown banners stir above the gate as the escort brings Tranis beneath the king’s seal.

The court guards lower their spears, then recognize the reeve’s writ and open the inner passage. The prisoner’s road ends here, under lawful custody.

Stephen guides the stretcher from the wagon while the Reeve presents the writ. Tranis remains bound and alive, carried through the arch toward the judgment hall.

Inside, a herald unrolls a black-edged summons. The King’s magistrate will hear the case before sunset, and the recovered signet is called for as the first exhibit.

At the nearest eatery, the waiting passes over warm bread and watered ale. Stephen and Kaelen trade quiet stories of the granary, their guarded relief softening into easy conversation.

Battista, Stephen, and Kaelen follow the Younger Bailiff through the court passage. Armed guards stand ready beside the waiting prisoners, their escort formation already set.

The guards close ranks around the prisoners, and the escort starts through the court gates toward Malkich.

The escort passes beneath the Royal Court gates, and Battista enters the vast inner court with the prisoners secured behind the Crown's guards.

At the court's center, the King finishes a sweeping stroke with a wooden practice sword. Sweat darkens his gambeson, and his glare fixes on the approaching procession.

Before the Younger Bailiff can answer, hurried footsteps strike the flagstones behind the throne dais.

Maureen, Tranis's wife and the sister of Battista's dear deceased friend, rushes across the court. She sees the prisoners, falters for one breath, then pushes toward the inner chambers.

Battista's appeal cuts across the court. Maureen stops at the inner passage, while the Younger Bailiff lowers his hand from the signal to halt her.

Before the gathered guards, Battista lays out the charges: Lord Tranis laundered caravan routes, concealed illicit shipments, and used false records to frame Battista's father. The recovered signet, ledgers, caravan list, and steward's instructions stand as evidence.

The balance shifts. Maureen is no longer fleeing toward the inner chambers, and the King's command places the escort under formal scrutiny. The Younger Bailiff waits for Battista to identify which proof should be examined first.

The evidence passes from Battista's open packet into the King's waiting hands: the signet, ledgers, caravan list, and the steward's instructions, each laid out beneath the court's hard light.

He compares names, dates, and seals without rushing. The Younger Bailiff kneels to record every finding, while Maureen watches the papers replace denial with a terrible certainty.

The King examines the final instruction, then turns it beside the recovered signet. Battista's complete presentation succeeds, but the scrutiny carries a price: the King's suspicion now reaches beyond Tranis.

The court falls quiet around the question. The prisoners remain secured for transfer, but the King's judgment now waits on Battista's answer.

Stephen steps from the escort line, boots striking the court stone. The guards tense, but he raises both empty hands before the King.

The testimony lands harder than the ledgers. Stephen names the order, the place where it was given, and the men who heard it. The King's suspicion of Battista shifts toward the prisoner.

The Younger Bailiff writes until his quill splinters. A dark fleck of ink stains his fingers, and he adds Battista's name beneath the heading of persons under scrutiny.

The court guards close around Tranis and the other captive, while the Younger Bailiff turns toward Battista with his ledger open, waiting to record the next order.

The King studies the stained ledger, the recovered signet, and the prisoners under guard. His wooden sword rests across the throne dais as the court falls silent.

The Younger Bailiff freezes over the page. Even the guards hold still as the judgment takes root in the court.

The sentence transforms the escort's purpose. Tranis is no longer merely carried for questioning, but held as a condemned traitor awaiting the Crown's execution order.

The King turns his hard attention toward Battista, while the Bailiff keeps his quill poised and the guards tighten their formation around the prisoners.

Maureen lowers herself before the dais, speaking through her fear with careful dignity. The court hears no plea for Tranis, only a claim for her child's inheritance.

The King takes the bailiff's seal and presses it into the wax beneath the judgment. Maureen is named lawful regent, and the estate is held for her son until his majority.

The guards turn the prisoners toward the outer gate. The escort rolls from the Royal Court toward Malkich, the judgment seal bright on the wagon's writ as Maureen remains behind beneath the King's authority.