Low Fantasy Royal Trial Scene

I’d like critique on the flow of dialogue in this scene, especially if everyone’s intentions are clear enough to the readers.

Context: The daughter of Count Cyrus Sokolov, the wealthiest trading magnate in the world, was attacked in the streets of the capital. Given the fragile political climate of the Empire, an event such as this could spark a civil war. The attack was seemingly framed on two heirs of another Imperial Province, Daniel and Ryan Orangehand. They immediately turn to their rival, Fraun Arrecotte, who is also present in the city, and accuse him of framing them. To solve this mess, Cyrus had the Emperor call a court trial, with his only objective being to prevent a war from breaking out. (Told by the POV of a peasant onlooker)

The room was almost entirely silent as the Council took their seats, including men such as Cyrus Sokolov and Hurt Lilac. Twelve councilmen were selected to represent the Council in its entirety and provide the Emperor with advice on the trial. It was customary for the most prominent members of the Council to be chosen, and this year was no different.

“His majesty, Alexandru Vasiliev, Emperor of the Four Maiden Lands and of the Empire of Apprivoise, Keeper of Orandia and son of Corneliu Vasiliev,” announced an officiate.

The Emperor unfurled a parchment and began to recite what was written for him.

“I, your Emperor, have declared a royal, public trial. The Council, the parties, and the Crown have gathered here to bear witness and pass judgment upon this tribunal,” He declared, “This hall of Goldur has held many courts prior, since the reign of House Haroldric. May my hand be guided by the justice delivered here in centuries past. May my judgment be from the Lady herself, and whatever declaration made be final. It has been my first decision to declare that the head of this trial, in my stead, will be Baron Kinneg Kusleff.”

Baron Kusleff stood from the twelve council members, donning a white doublet embroidered with the image of the Lady, sigil of his House. Anson hardly knew the counts and their houses, much less the barons and their families.

“I will now announce that the trial has begun,” said the Emperor, folding the parchment.

Anson and Devon watched as the baron rose from his seat, and made his way before the table where the three young men sat.

“Seven days ago, on the third of Ilas, Lady Carlotta Verenkaus was set upon by brigands in the streets of the city. Twenty-two men were killed in the fighting that ensued when retainers of House Orangehand intervened. Lady Carlotta Verenkaus survived the fighting without injury,” the Baron cleared his throat, “However, those brigands that were killed bore the sigil of House Orangehand upon their linens, a gauntlet; orange, upon a white field. It is then the question of the Crown, why did those attackers wear your sigil?”

“We do not know,” said Daniel Orangehand.

“Do you not think that this ordeal is rather circumstantial?” asked Kusleff.

“No,” spoke Ryan Orangehand, “If we did not do what we had done, if we did not sally out with our men, she would be dead. It was us who saved her.”

“You are the heir to House Orangehand, aren’t you Sir Ryan Orangehand?”

“I am.”

“You are expected to represent your father, Count Rjoinald Orangehand, at the Council meeting, are you not?”

“I am.”

“With all of these expectations upon you, would you deny setting up an event to make your peers look upon you more favorably?”

“I deny it,” called out Sir Ryan, “It was no scheme of mine. It was my own sigil found on those bandits, what would compel me to do that to myself? My family has everything to lose on such a thing, it isn’t something that we would do.”

“Yet I would frame you?” called out Fraun Arrecotte, “If we’re asking motives, tell me mine for that-”

“Quiet!” called out Baron Kinneg, “This tribunal will not be sullied by such unprompted behavior.”

Anson found the entire trial and the circumstance surrounding it to be ridiculous. The complexities of the courts and nobleman bored him, he did not understand the interest that Devon took in it.

“If you, Sir Ryan and Sir Daniel, were not responsible for the attack on Lady Verenkaus, then who would you claim was?”

Daniel Orangehand slowly lifted his hand, his finger outstretched, coldly pointing to the Arrecotte.

“Him,” said Sir Daniel, “They are nothing but wrath-driven, baseless fabrications. Every word out that snakes mouth is born in envy!”

Fraun did not seem amused, audibly laughing and breaking the silence that followed the previous statement. The stillness of the air was filled with echoes of his sarcastic cackles. Anson could feel the pompousness in the man's voice, even quiet as it was. It dripped heavy with disdain, pride, and condescension.

“Both of you will be silent,” declared the Baron, “I will remind both parties that they are in the presence of his majesty, and must adhere to the tenets of the court. Neutrality, not hostility; there is no room for mockery in these chambers. Justice is absolute, and if you disgrace this assemblage again, it will be swift.”

Fraun stopped laughing, a wide smile etched across his face. On Sir Ryans face, only contempt could be found. Baron Kusleff turned towards the smiling man, and directed his next questions towards him.

“With restraint, Sir Fraun, do you have any response to this?”

“I do Baron, with restraint; there is nothing for me to gain from such a thing. They have nothing my family desires, for we do not have many thirsts that cannot be quenched. The same can be said for all of our province, what would any Orandian possibly want from such needy, unfortunate Kellburgians?”

Sir Ryan slammed his fists on the table before him, his chair clattering loudly on the ground as he stood.

“We are heirs of the great House of Orangehand, sons of the Kings of Gregory, our blood has kept Kellburg for a thousand years and we will not suffer such insults!”

Baron Kusleff moved to speak, but caught his words when Count Cyrus Sokolov stood from the Council seating, quietly walking to the table. He said something inaudible to the three boys, and they were all immediately silenced. Sir Ryan promptly sat down, his face still flush with irritation. He deeply frightened Anson, and he thought the man always would. Count Sokolov then turned towards the crowd, addressing them.

“I will remind not only the parties, but also the attending observers, that this trial is not to be made light of. It has been thirty years since the last tribunal met in these halls, when the realm was ravaged. This trial is not an issue of Orandia and Kellburg, but an attack in the streets of the city, flagrantly disrespecting the Emperor and threatening the stability of the capital. We must honor the grounds we are upon, and remember what we have gathered here to do. We will not sow seeds of strife in these chambers, we will find resolution.”

Count Cyrus then turned and without another word, returned to his seat. Baron Kusleff silently shuffled back to the center of the floor.

“Count Sokolov’s words are true, is this understood?” the noble asked the parties.

The Orangehands nodded while the Arrecotte scoffed, Anson could tell that the man thought this whole ordeal was beneath him. It frightened Anson, the thought of being questioned in such a manner so publicly.

“May I be granted permission to speak?” asked Sir Ryan Orangehand.

“You are allowed.”

“If we had not rode to her lady’s side that day, she would have been killed. I do not know why our heraldry was found on the dead, but I can swear to this court, on my father’s honor, that we had no part to play in it. If practicality is the matter, neither my brother nor myself had been in the city for a full day at the time. We never had the time to orchestrate such a conspiracy, we left for our estate shortly after our boat arrived.”

Baron Kusleff seemed pleased with the sensibility of the statement, and resumed his questioning of the northerners.

“Were you anywhere else before you reached your family’s estate?” he asked.

“I placed a substantial investment with a silk merchant prior to our arrival,” answered Ryan, “We visited him before settling at the estate, it was purely business.”

“After your business venture, is it true that you met Lady Verenkaus?”

“Yes,” answered the two Kellburgians.

“What was discussed?”

“Our place in things,” curtly stated Sir Daniel.

“Expand.”

“With the councils meeting, we will represent our father in his absence. We were told to be mindful of where we were, and to take our task seriously. She could attest to that herself, were she here,” said Daniel.

“Her absence is excused. That is all,” the Baron turned towards the Arrecotte, “Where were you on the fourth of Ilas, when she was attacked?”

“In the Vine, at the Rose Bank. I had an appointment with representatives of the Helganth family to personally organize a loan. I then had meetings throughout the day, and attended a supper at House Armin’s estate.”

“Will anyone attest to that?”

“Count Henary Armin, some of his vassals were there also; Baron Clifford and Baron Cramuncurr.”

“I can confirm,” announced Count Armin, standing from his seat with the twelve councilmen. He was a younger man, perhaps the youngest of them all.

“Count Armin, was Sir Fraun capable of organizing such an event as the attack on Lady Verenkaus during his stay with you?”

“No, he was not. The wine flowed deep that night, we dined late and spoke afterwards. He didn’t leave our company until the bell tolled twelve.”

The Count was dismissed, and he returned to his seat in silence. Baron Kusleff took the floor again.

“There does not seem to be enough evidence for condemnation on either side, we shall-”

The Baron was interrupted by shuffling from the Orangehand brothers, who were quietly nodding to each other in mutual agreement.

“Is there something either of you would wish to contribute?”

“Lord Baron,” announced Sir Daniel, “Shortly after we arrived on the docks, we were trailed by men that bore the green colors and sigil of House Arrecotte. It has been made obvious to us that we are of interest to him, and were he actually busy that night, he still could have made arrangements prior to that day.”

Fraun seemed unphased, shaking his head in contempt at the statement, he spoke before the Baron could manage an answer.

“Why would I have you followed? Is there anyone who can confirm your delusions, Orangefinger?”

The elder brother slammed his fists into the table, sending paper and an ink well flying. A mutter began to swell throughout the Sanctum as the man stood there, shaking in a red-hot fury. Anson assumed that what the Arrecotte had said was an insult, and he found the bickering amusing.

“I will have your tongue,” Daniel said, coldly.

“Sit down Daniel Orangehand, and I might dismiss that remark,” called out the Baron.

“The boys were followed!” interrupted a booming voice from the edge of the floor.

A hulking knight appeared from the shadows, stomping his way towards the center. The commotion caused the crowds to stir. Two Keepsguard beside the Emperor, clad in ornate plate, drew their swords and approached the armored man. The man had black hair and a long, dark beard. His armor was wrapped by a blue surcoat bearing a sigil foreign to Anson.

“It’d be too easy,” the knight said, swatting the blades out of his face, “If you think either of you little pricks could draw my blood, I am insulted.”

“You dare interrupt the Emperor’s court?” cried the Baron, retreating towards the remaining guards, “Seize that man, put him in shackles!”

The crowd began to erupt into a frenzy, shocked at how the trial was beginning to unfold. There was an eagerness in the air, Anson hoped to himself that this swordsman would swing on the Keepsguard, it would make it all the more entertaining at the very least. The roar was brought to a silence when Count Sokolov stood again, with a sullen expression.

“Was I not clear enough, Sir Maidenmorrow, that this trial was to be honored? You disgrace yourself, you disgrace your liege and your own House. You would make such threats in the presence of your Emperor? What of the honor of Kellburg?”

The knight, Sir Maidenmorrow, unbuckled his belt and threw his sword to the ground before the Keepsguard. He spat at the feet of the royal guard, slipping between the two and approaching the councilmen.

“Count Sokolov, I know what I saw. These boys had nothing to do with the attack on your daughter, they shouldn’t be here. When we arrived, we were followed by Arrecotte men. Now, I don’t know what that means, I don’t know who is responsible, but it’s not Rjoinald’s sons.”

Count Sokolov paused, glaring at the unarmed man before him. He hesitated for a second longer before his frustration seemed to dissipate.

“We fought together Sir Maidenmorrow, do you swear it?”

“Aye,” without a second thought the man unsheathed his dagger and slid the blade across his open palm, “I swear it.”

Blood dripped from between the man's fingers and onto the rock floor, pooling at his feet. He stood there, himself beginning to tremble with anger.

“I respect your word, Sir Blake, as should this tribunal. You’ve paid your dues to the Crown in full, let the man go,” Count Sokolov turned towards the Emperor, “If it is his words that say the Orangehands were followed, they should be trusted.”

“Arrecotte,” said Baron Kusleff, “Why were your men tracking the Orangehands and their entourage?”

“It is no secret that there is bad blood between my House and theirs, Lord Baron. However, there was no conspiracy, no grand plan, I simply wished to know the doings of my political opponents. How many of you in this room, you men of status, have done worse?”

“Our father sent us here to strengthen ties, not break them,” announced Sir Daniel, “We were sent here with a boon, three crates of gold, for you. We only seek to remedy what grudge you bear for us.”

“Gold? Charity will not suffice, little piggy. The fields of Slate Rock are still sodden with my family’s blood, there is no remedy for that. Remedy my father’s hand, the one Count Rjoinald had severed. Remedy the scars on his back from the flogging. There is no gold for that.”

“Arrecotte,” said the Emperor, still reclined on his throne, “Any blood spilled during the war was of your father’s own volition. Count Frederick was shown leniency, there are more apt ways to reprimand those who wage war on the Crown.”

“Yes your majesty, but my family has since paid our debt in full. It was not Count Rjoinald’s place to determine the Crown’s justice.”

“Perhaps, but the deed was done the same. Your father laid siege to Obensburg, and how many of my subjects were killed in the fighting? Lashes and a swordhand are a light price to pay for the betrayal he committed.”

Fraun was silent, visibly mulling over the Emperor’s words in his head. There was contempt in his eyes, which only grew as he began to realize the corner that he was in.

“Fraun Arrecotte, if you admit to having the brother’s followed, then you lied earlier when denying it,” said the Baron, “You have lied in this honored court, and now your words can hold no credit.”

“A lapse of judgment is all it was, Baron.”

Kusleff walked to the seated councilmen, and spoke with them briefly. One of them handed the Baron a parchment, which he then promptly passed to the Emperor. The Emperor nodded approvingly, and stood from his seat.

“I, Emperor Alexandru Vasiliev, with the advice of this court and the attending councilmen, find the evidence to be too lacking to pass stark judgment on either of the parties. However, given the seriousness of the claims set against House Orangehand, it has been deemed appropriate that they are owed recompense. Fraun Arrecotte will pay a sum of one hundred boars to both Ryan and Daniel Orangehand. It has also been found appropriate that the Orangehands find an alternative representative for their House in this coming council meeting, as to avoid further complications. Additionally, for perjuring under this santcified institution, Sir Fraun Arrecotte will pay a fine of three hundred boars, or face a sentence of three years in the Cells of Vorona.”