“You know my faith is true, unlike the simple folk in Pannoia. Their nation is a smudge on the earth and their insult much grave… it’s not my fault that this happened, it’s the heavenly hand which guided me in our retribution!” Chariovalda the meak, royal legate of Ricola, fell on his knees in front of the council with his arms in an open gesture of forgiveness.

The judges looked down at him from behind their high chairs and table filled with accusations. They had been distressed and unhappy with the Pannoian conflict that seemingly never end, with expenses that grew ever larger as more troops were called in to fortify the coast. The silence were so tense that it could have been cut with a knife, something the judges eyes often did with their judgemental looks.

Chariovalda looked up, “It’s not my fault that the conflict continues! It was the Pannoians who lit the flames of war and who bears the weight of this conflict, they are the fire which burns and destroys!”

“We know that the people of Pannoia is their own and less than the Hellenes, and it is just what we could expect from them. But they aren’t a pack of barbarians to be pushed around. Clearly your military campaign has failed to bring victory and we have lost faith in your ability to do so.” The third judge rummaged through his papers, “We captured the coast and pushed them back, our honour restored… Or that was until you brought shame upon us yet again by trying to do something impossible”

“Over an army I am not even in command over!” cried Chariovalda.

“You are the authority!” retorted the judge.

Chariovalda stood up and made a foul gesture towards the judge, “Don’t be absurd! You want a scapegoat if this were to fail and if you demand one take the legate who is commanding our armies!”

The judge stood up screaming, “The legate is not here!”

Chariovalda then slammed his fist against the table “So wait I’m accused because he isn’t here!?”

An awkward silence filled the room as the judges looked dumbfounded at each other. The thought had apparently not occurred to them or… Chariovalda calmly walked back to his chair and sat down thinking, who do they think they are treating me like this? But who... who would even try such a foul trick to smudge my name.

A messenger entered the room with haste running up to the judges with news from the front. The judge who received the letter grew pale and gave it to his neighbour as he turned away seemingly preparing to vomit from shock. As the letter moved along the line of judges they grew wide-eyed and seemed lost, when the last man were to receive the message plucked it up with shaking hands almost fainting as he slipped down under the table panting. Their gaze soon turned to Chariovalda the meak.

Chariovalda read the situation and walked towards the door with a smug face, “I presume this trial is over then? I'll leave for Pannoia tomorrow to sort out your situation.”