Atticus awoke to find himself lying on a cold marble floor, dressed in brown rags. Small gratings in the roof allowed a few beams of yellow light to scatter around the otherwise empty room. A large metal door with a curious grey hatch was bolted to his left. This was obviously some form of jail cell, however there was no sign of Eli anywhere. He must have been taken somewhere else after last nights ambush.
Worried for his friend, he stood up and tapped on the sealed entranceway. After a few drawn out seconds, the slit on the door slid sideways, and a pair of gloomy eyes gazed inwards. They scanned the room shrewdly, and then shut the hatch as abruptly as they had opened it.
Atticus crept up to the doorway, and leant inwards until his ear was pressed firmly against its metal framework. Listening intently, he heard a number of voices quarrelling and murmuring outside. It was hard to make much of what they were saying, however there was one recognisable tone amongst the others—the old man from last night. He sounded very demanding.
Perplexed and somewhat agitated that his captors seemed to be ignoring him, Atticus began to beat forcefully on the metal door.
"Let me out of this wretched cell you barbarians!"
The hatch then opened up a second time.
"Silence. You are currently under the administration of the Neorulian Royal Court."
The Royal Court? Surely Atticus's crime didn't need such serious trail.
"I... I think there's been a mistake. I shouldn't be here."
"You are being sentenced shortly. Contain yourself you nefarious child."
And without another word, Atticus was on his own again. After a few more pathetic beatings on the door proved pointless, he sank reluctantly into the corner of his stone cell. This simply wasn't fair, being caged up like some wild convict. Stealing gold wasn't that harsh of a crime, was it?
Reflection was suddenly evicted from the silence of the chamber by a loud harrowing scrape. The metal door guarding the outside world slid to the left, and in trod two familiar red-cloaked guards, this time wielding wooden rods.
"You will follow us to the hall of judgement," one of them murmured.
This hall was something Atticus had only heard of in whispers around Neorulia; the worst of criminals were put on trial under its unforgiving stone arches. It seemed like such a jarring place to hold his trial. Palms sweating and heart pounding, he followed the guards out of his cell and began to march down a wide passageway. It was then that his eyes met a familiar figure—Eli. He too was in brown rags and being pushed down the corridor.
"Eli! I'm so sorry this is all my fault," Atticus yelled.
"It's okay friend... we're in this together..."
The two boys halted in front of a huge golden-framed door that was decorated with many shiny gemstones. One of the Neorulian guard stepped over to Atticus's left and pulled a wooden lever. A series of clunks and cog-grinds saw the door begin to slowly rotate open, revealing the room inside.
The hall of Judgement had a massive interior, with rows upon rows of seats cascading upwards surrounding a concrete path. In the centre, a stone pedestal basked in the shadow of a colossal pillar, at the top which a purple throne sat ominously. Eli and Atticus made their way to the raised stone in the middle of the hall. A figure appeared on the throne up above.
"I, King Gordon of the second passing, ninth lord of the kingdom of Neorulia, swear to be just and unbiased in this criminal trial."
The man, King Gordon, had ruled over this empire for as long as Atticus could remember. He never made really public appearance, but Kingly duties are obviously very taxing.
"The boys standing before me, Atticus Adrian Dagwood and Eli Rajmund Galanodel, have been charged with the trespassing and robbery of the third Neorulian gold mine and process plant, near the northern border. How do you plead?"
Both boys looked down at their uncovered feet. They were lucky only a small audience was bearing witness to their trial.
"Guilty," they said in unison.
"And rightfully so," King Gordon proclaimed. "As you are not yet of Archaic age, I cannot condemn you to imprisonment. I will, however, sentence you to a prolonged period of community service."
Atticus looked up. Were they really going to let the boys off with such loose penalty, after calling them for trial in the Hall of Judgement?
"And boys, I would advice no more mischief before the anniversary of ascension, if you please."
With that, the sound of hammer hitting stone broke through air, and the torch-lights above the throne dimmed. Atticus turned to look at the people bearing witness to his judgement, and locked eyes for a brief moment with the face of the old man from last night. He was stroking his beard with a perplexed grimace on his face.
"Come on, Atticus. We can still make it to city centre in time."
The guards surrounding the boys escorted them outside the hall of Judgement, and led them on to the city street running past the Royal Court.
"Now go, quickly, and join ascension in the town square," One of the cloaked guards uttered.
Eli and Atticus ran down the street, free at last. It was a daunting feeling, being under judgement, and they were both relieved to be rid of their crimes.
"King Gordon was certainly more decisive than usual," Eli said as the two boys began to slow. The last few dregs of people were to migrating towards the city centre.
"Yes he was very abrupt," Atticus replied, "though it's understandable, being under the pressures of kingship at this busy time."
"True..."
"Do you think they'll notice us arriving so late?"
Atticus and Eli came to a final halt as they reached their destination—the town square. All members of the city were gathered around a raised slab of marble, chanting and whispering prayers.
"Hope not..." Eli shuddered.
Ascension was about to begin.
