Through the wooden doors to the Great Hall, Neve could hear muted sounds coming from the crowd within.
Neve looked, simply put, regal. As regal as a recovering patient could be.
Her cloak was draped over her shoulders. Kalina had even pinned her silver hair into a loose, braided knot.
Despite her appearance, Neve was the most nervous she had been in years. Even meeting the King as a child couldn't compare. Her stomach was a bundle of nerves. She was struggling to keep down the small breakfast she had eaten prior.
"Lady Neve?" Kalina gently prompted, standing a few steps behind Neve. "Are you alright?"
Neve looked over her shoulder and gave the nurse a watery smile. "Yes, I'm fine. I just need a moment to compose myself."
"You'll do great, My Lady!" Kalina encouraged her. "Your plan is faultless."
"Well, I wouldn't say that," Neve replied dryly. She took a deep breath, smoothing her simple dress absentmindedly. "Then, I will see you after the trial."
"I wish I could accompany you," the nurse lamented.
Given her commoner status, and being a woman, Kalina had no place in the Great Hall. Frankly, Neve usually wouldn't either. Her brother had attended several courts in the Capital. The only woman present would be the Queen Consort, should the trial be severe enough.
Neve reached for Kalina's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You've already done enough, Kalina. I can't thank you and Sir Beavin enough."
Wasting not another second, Neve squared her shoulders and pushed through the massive doors. She passed the threshold into the Great Hall, keeping her eyes ahead.
A hush befell the crowd of knights. Heads turned and countless sets of eyes followed Neve as she walked through the chamber.
Their gazes were heavy, but she paid them no mind. No, Neve was focused on the front of the Hall where the senior knights sat, awaiting her.
Before the senior knights was a tall–seemingly misplaced–wooden post. But Neve quickly understood its purpose.
Reed's hands were chained around the post, giving him no means to escape. He was kneeling on the ground, head bowed, and his clothes in tatters.
Neve reached the front of the Great Hall, hushed whispers following her with every step. She met the Commanding Officer's gaze fearlessly, feeling a spark of recognition.
It was Baron Alban Harte. He was a shrewd-looking man, possessing sharp eyes, a hooked nose, and greying hair. Neve had encountered him in the Capital many years ago. Baron Harte was a distant maternal relative of the King. And if Neve recalled correctly, he had met financial ruin a few years ago.
After all, there was a reason he was serving in the Order of the Black Rose.
"Lady Neve Rosentine," Baron Harte almost sneered. "So we meet again."
"Under quite strange circumstances, indeed," Neve responded evenly. She offered him a slight bow–not a curtsey–as she was now a man-at-arms and not a lady. "Lord Harte."
Discreetly, Neve took a step closer to Reed. She caught Reed's eye and tried to relay a message through her gaze: 'I've got a plan, so don't worry.'
She wasn't sure if Reed understood. He just blinked, his face swollen and bruised, and bowed his head again.
Baron Harte cleared his throat and rose to his feet, eyes scanning the many knights attending the trial. "Now, I shall begin–"
Neve raised her hand delicately, silencing Baron Harte mid-sentence. The affronted man turned to her, his lip curled back in displeasure.
"I must interrupt, Lord Harte," Neve said, purposefully making her voice haughty. "I would like to address the knights at large before the trial begins."
"I–I...well, go ahead," the Baron spluttered.
"To the knights standing before me," Neve began, motioning towards the senior knights seated beside Baron Harte. She turned to face the crowd. "And the knights behind me. I implore you, good sirs, to remember something important.
"Inside Hell's Gate, I am outranked by you all. I am here as a man-at-arms. But this war will not last forever," Neve spoke, her voice echoing loudly throughout the Great Hall. "Lest you forget, I am the daughter of the great Duke Rosentine. I stand before you all, not only as Neve Rosentine, but as the representative of the House."
"Yes, Lady Neve," Baron Harte snapped. "Surely, none of us have forgotten–"
"What's more," she continued, ignoring the Commanding Officer's words, "I demand a fair and just trial. Not only for myself, but for the boy in chains beside me."
Neve began to pace, commanding the attention of every knight present. "I do not mind his lowly status. I do not even mind that he is a foreigner. In my eyes, he is just a boy. And it is my duty, as a noble, to protect those weaker than I."
She looked over her shoulder, meeting Baron Harte's eye. "Though I see not all nobles share the same sentiment."
The sound of muffled laughter and looks of bewilderment met Neve's thinly-veiled insult. It was clear–no one held the senior knights in very high regard.
"I will not tolerate a rushed, careless sentencing," Neve stated. "I, on behalf of House Rosentine, will personally ensure that due process is followed."
"Enough!" the Baron shouted. "I will not stand for such disorder. Lady Neve, I have heard your concerns. Now, you shall abide by the rules of this court, unless you wish to add contempt to your charges."
"Of course not, Lord Harte," Neve replied coolly. "But I felt it was necessary."
Neve resumed her spot beside Reed, noticing the boy's head was no longer bowed. He stared forward resolutely, as if Neve's words had given him confidence.
"Then, I shall formally begin the proceeding," the Commanding Officer spoke. "I, Baron Alban Harte and Commanding Officer, am representing the will of the Order of the Black Rose in this martial court. Before me are two individuals, on trial for espionage and aiding and abetting a foreign spy."
Neve clenched her fists, feeling her stomach tie itself into knots. There was no going back. There was no new plan, and no one would be bursting through the doors to save Neve. This was it.
"The Lady Neve Rosentine is accused of aiding and abetting a spy from Bluhera," Baron Harte announced, his voice almost smug. "The punishment for which, taking the Lady's noble status into account, is one hundred lashes and a fine of 5,000 gold."
The Baron turned to Reed, who bravely looked on. Only Neve could see the boy's slight tremble.
"And Reed from Bluhera is accused of espionage," Harte spoke, his voice chilly. "For which, the sentence is death."