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"Saito" - Talking
'Louise' - Thinking/ Human-Human Telepathy
"Explosion!" - Spell
:Master: - Master/Familiar Telepathy
Chapter 34: The Trial of the Usurper Oliver Cromwell
A Week Later
Cell, Gaol, Castle Tristain, City of Tristainia
Oliver Cromwell, Emperor of the Holy Republic of Albion was truly and utterly furious.
First, he had been ambushed by some strange creature wielding a sword on the battlefield, ending with his own right hand being cut off and, more importantly, his ring had been stolen from him.
The Ring of Andvari was his, damn it, granted unto him by Brimir's own guiding hand! To rob him of it was nothing short of blasphemy!
Then he had awoken in a commoner's jail cell like some form of footpad, being granted only bread and water to satiate himself for the entirety of time since the disaster at Tarbes. The utter gall of it all! He'd actually lost weight! He had never been treated with such an utter disregard for his rightful station in the entirety of his life!
'Once my supporters manage to free me from this blasted cell, I will ensure that these Tristainian heretics know my wrath!' he silently swore to himself for the nth time since he had first awoken in this accursed cell.
Clumsily, Cromwell worked to adjust his clothes (freshly laundered, thank the Founder for small mercies) with his left hand. He once more glowered at the stump that was all that was left of his once dominant hand, feeling another flare of phantom pain flare through his entire arm, causing him to violently wince. Oh, he was going to personally see to it that whatever foul beast that silver-haired monstrosity was would be hunted down and then he would ensure that its entire Founder bedamned species was wiped from the world!
Noise from the corridor outside of his cell drew Cromwell from his mental cursing. Minutes later, five armed and armoured soldiers, all women, appeared outside of the bars. They were led by a face that was familiar to Cromwell, but was by no means a welcome one.
"What do you want, Upstart Commoner?" Cromwell scoffed at the woman. Magic was the surest sign of the Founder's blessing upon the nobility, a show of those bloodlines that were meant to rule or lead. For some jumped-up commoner to make even the slightest allusion to their belonging amongst the ranks of nobility should have been counted as heresy.
Agnès de Milan, Chevalier of Tristain and Captain of the Queen's Musketeers, merely looked back at him with impassive disdain. She was so used to that particular attitude from the so-called 'true nobility' that she honestly couldn't be bothered to give a jot about it coming from a louse like the one standing before her.
"You have been called for your Trial, Cromwell." she responded blandly. "You have two options, come willingly and retain some shred of your dignity, or be dragged there in chains."
Righteous rage once more roared to life within him in a sudden, violent moment. These faithless wretches, none holding the zeal in their hearts to properly follow the Founder's Will, DARED to try and pass judgement on him!?
Evidently, his anger must have been visible on his face as the lower-ranking Musketeers following their commander all drew and levelled their pistols at him in unison, with hammers cocked back and ready.
"You may seethe all you wish, Cromwell." Agnès offered absently, the small ghost of a smile on her lips. "You lack a casting implement of any sort and thus cannot call upon any magic. Now make your choice: walk or be dragged."
The sheer gall of this strumpet, to think herself capable of giving orders to someone like him! It made Cromwell silently fume in impotent fury. Had he his Ring or even just his wand, he'd show this mouthy bitch her proper place!
"I shall take you silence to mean that you have no desire to cooperate. Very well then." the Chevalier offered absently, before turning to two of the Musketeers accompanying her, and gestured. "Bind him!"
The indicated subordinates moved quickly and decisively at the order, entering into the cell before quickly restraining the noble without much problem. Cromwell might not be as out of shape as some nobles, but he was far from military trim. With only one hand and no magic, he was even less difficult than the average man for them to restrain. More than that, he was a noble and, even in his current circumstances, held tightly to the belief that commoners should and would show him his due deference and would never even attempt to lay a finger on him. That made the Musketeers' job of slapping a pair of iron handcuffs onto his wrists all the easier.
"You…?!" he glared hatefully, outraged beyond all words at the indignity of being bound and treated like some common hooligan!
"You have the right to remain silence until you are called to speak in your own defence. I suggest that you exercise that right." Agnès offered simply before turning away and dismissing him contemptuously as she signalled her soldiers. "Bring him! Her Majesty awaits us!"
Same Time
In the Throne Room
Trumpets sounded as the herald entered and tapped the butt of his staff onto the floor sharply thrice, silencing the gathered nobility and Albionian military officers as they turned their attention to the doors. "Announcing Her Most Royal Majesty, Queen Henrietta Stuart de Tristain! And Her Majesty, Dowager-Queen Marianne Stuart de Tristain!"
Henrietta stepped into the room dressed in her typical 'court' attire, only altered by the addition of the fur-trimmed red cloak that marked her as the seated monarch. Behind her, Marianne followed her daughter demurely, as graceful and elegant as ever. She would slowly and gradually cut down the number of times she attended court with her daughter as time progressed to ensure that no one came to assume Henrietta was some form of puppet figure or dependent on her mother for guidance, but that was for later. For now, no one would question her acting as an advisor for her newly crowned daughter after acting as Dowager Regent for a year. Even more so, with the current matter on the court's attention, she would have needed to attend. The trial of a sitting Emperor, usurper or not, definitely was an affair that required the attention of the entire royal family.
Once the two Royals had taken their seats on their respective thrones, the herald waited a brief moment before tapping the butt of his staff thrice more on the stone floor. "Announcing Her Most Royal Highness, Crown Princess Louise 'le Vide' de Vallière, and her Knight Protector, Chevalier Saito de Hiraga!"
Currently dressed in a fine dress not dissimilar to the ones that her sister Cattleya often wore, with the cloak identifying her position as Crown Princess draped over her shoulders and secured with a silver brooch engraved with a pentagram symbol. Staying one step behind Louise, Saito followed his charge adroitly. He was once more dressed in the clothing he had worn during the party the week prior, as there had been some arguments at just what uniform he should be dressed in since he had not yet been recognized as a formal member of the Royal Knight Protectors. The Queen herself was starting to become impatient, so hopefully that would be resolved in short order. He carried Derflinger sheathed and slung over his shoulder.
Once Louise had taken her seat on the Heir's Throne, Saito took his own place a pace a step behind her and to the left. Henrietta exchanged a brief look with her mother and her all-but-sister before nodding at the herald. "Bring forth the accused." she ordered simply.
The herald merely nodded and stepped out of the throne room, returning a moment later barely restraining a smirk. "The accused, 'Holy Emperor' Oliver Cromwell of the rogue nation claiming the title of the 'Holy Republic' of Albion." he announced without fanfare.
Agnès de Milan stepped into the room a moment later, followed by four members of the Queen's Musketeers who were all dragging a familiar one-handed man, now dressed in clean, if plain, clothing and lacking any of the jewels or other ornamentations he had been wearing when he was captured. His face was puce and practically a rictus of rage as he tried to keep his balance despite the rather ungraceful way he was being pulled along.
"How dare you!?" he roared out. "I am the Holy Emperor of Albion! I will have all of you damnable commoners executed for this indignity!"
The faces of the Free Albion men present in the room hardened at that particular claim. That this usurper dared to proclaim such things in their presence was nothing short of infuriating to them. Only proper decorum drilled into them regarding the customs of a Royal Court prevented any of them from voicing that outrage.
The loudly protesting man was quickly dragged before the throne, where he openly glared at Henrietta. The Queen met and returned his glare with an impressively impassive stare on her normally quite expressive face.
"Lord Chamberlain, you may read the charges being presented against the accused." she stated after a moment, not breaking eye contact with the murderer before her.
A well-dressed man strode forwards and unfurled a scroll of parchment. "Oliver Cromwell, you stand before Her Majesty accused of the following crimes: First, Oathbreaking. To whit, that you did violate your oaths of fealty towards King James Tudor de Albion, your liege lord. Second, Insurrection. In that you did willingly and knowingly rise up against the rightful rulers of Albion, the Tudor Royal Family, with intent to remove them from their rightful seat of power. Third, Regicide. In that you did order the assassination of the entirety of the Tudor Royal Family, and thus being implicated in the murders of King James Tudor, Archduke Montaru de Albion and Crown Prince Wales Tudor through the use of means underhanded, foul, and dishonourable. Three counts in total. Fourth, Disrespect of the Spirits. In that you personally led an expedition to Lake Lagdorian and thus did steal the artefact known as the Ring of Andvari from the Great Water Spirit that dwells there, placing the people of not only Tristain, but Gallia, Romalia and Germania as risk of its wrath. Fifth, Abuse of Magical Power. To whit, that you did make use of the powers of the Ring of Andvari to not only mind control and force members of the neutral Albionian Nobility to your side, but enchanted the water wells and other water sources within the Capital City of Londinium, sending the entirety of the still-present commoner population of that city into a berserk fury and then directing them against Buckingham Castle with the single-minded goal of killing their rightful ruler, Prince Wales."
The list of charges grew longer and longer as the Chamberlain continued, each accusation making those loyal to Free Albion angrier and angrier at each reminder at just what the usurper before them had done in order to enact his plans. Lord Admiral Sir Edward Pellew openly glowered at the doughy little fop of a man that had dared to call himself an emperor. Lord Rupert de Rhine was practically trembling with repressed fury as he fought to maintain control of his temper and merely stared daggers at the man who had ordered the murder of his prince.
One person who stood out in the court, being neither Albionian or Tristainian, was a blonde-haired young man dressed in the gold-trimmed white uniform of a Romalian Flamen-Knight with a blue cape draped over his shoulders. He carried a swordwand sheathed at his hip, currently peace-bound as the rules of court dictated, and was rather good-looking, enough so that more than a few of the attending noblewomen were sneaking glances at him from the corners of their eyes.
Julio Chesaré, Flamen-Knight of Romalia and acting envoy of His Eminence St Aegis XXXII, known also as Pope Vittorio Serevare, was honestly slightly bewildered at the actions that Tristain was taking now. Yes, the rather disgusting little man had committed a multitude of crimes that were quite heinous, but he was still a sitting monarch, a ruler of a nation. He couldn't comprehend why Queen Henrietta was going through with this nor why His Holiness the Pope had chosen not to step in to stop it.
'Unless…could he be using this as an object lesson for anyone who thinks along the same line as the Reconquista?' the Flamen-Knight mused as the charges continued to be read. 'That the Royal Families rule because of their lineal descent from the Founder himself is one of the very foundations that have allowed the Church of Brimir to maintain its course for centuries. And now the Tudor Branch is all-but extinct thanks to the actions of this Cromwell fellow. Could His Holiness be intending to use this man's fate to act as an object lesson to the various nobility of the other kingdoms and remind them that rising up against their betters will not be tolerated like their usual nonsense?'
The longer he continued to ponder the idea, the more sense it seemed to make. The Pope preferred to keep Romalia's hands clean, projecting neutrality in most affairs, and instead let the various kingdoms act in accordance to his will via a bit of subtle nudging as often as possible. Since Queen Henrietta already intended to punish Cromwell (for what were admittedly very valid and justified reasons) then it was likely that he had merely sent Julio here for his publicly stated reason of keeping an eye on the proceedings, as well at to gather a more 'first hand' idea of the current goings on in Tristain.
His heterochromatic eyes, one blue and one red, carefully flicked over to the Crown Princess of Tristain, who was, like the Pope himself, a Void Mage. Louise 'la Vide' de la Vallière. The youngest daughter of Duke Jacques de Vallière and Duchess Karin 'la Vent Forte' de Vallière, aged sixteen years and currently a Second Year at the Tristain Academy of Magic. Previously her schooling was marked by very high theoretical scores while her practical scores were quite abysmal; something that had changed not long after she had used the Summon Servant to call forth her Familiar…her Human Familiar.
'And of the ones for her to call forth, that she would summon forth the Gandálfr is an even more sizeable annoyance.' Julio though, subtly scanning the young man in question. An outworlder, which was particularly obvious given he possessed the black hair and black eyes that were such common hallmarks among many of the outworlders summoned in the past, utterly lacking in any loyalty or adherence to the Brimirite Faith and possessing of the ability to pick up and masterfully wield any form of weapon that was created for combat without any training. Such a troubling combination.
The Church had no ability to interfere with anything involving the Summon Servant Spell, as that spell's complexity was beyond even the most learned and puissant of the Romalian Research Corps, and the location of the central apparatus that was said to act as the focal point for the Summon Servant Familiar System had been lost to the Church in a schism that had occurred over 3500 years ago; not that anyone knew of the device itself save for those most trusted by the current Pope, and no amount of searching had ever brought up so much as a clue to its location. If they could, they would have long ago influenced the system to ensure that only those of guaranteed loyalty to Mother Church and its goals would be able to call upon a Void Familiar.
That Joseph of Gallia had the Mind of God at his side was bad enough, but the protections that could be offered by the unparalleled warrior that was the Left Hand of God meant that any efforts to 'remove' his master from play by the Church's more…discrete…agents would be monstrously more difficult. While Louise de Vallière had not acted against the direct interests of Mother Church just yet, her sovereign had recently been very much lacking in proper respect and patience for the Pope and his judgement, and was rapidly on her own way to being labelled a possible danger to Brimir's Will. Any further defiance on Queen Henrietta's part would mean that measures would need to be taken, although exactly what those measures might be, Julio had no clue. The more overt ones, such as excommunication, were out both due to her demonstrated genuine piety for the Founder's Faith, and the various issues that excommunicating a sitting Monarch without a very good, very public, reason could cause.
That left the more 'indirect' methods that Mother Church sometimes needed to wield in its pursuit of Brimir's Will. Methods that Julio knew very little about and that he had absolutely no interest in learning about in any detail.
'Chevalier Saito de Hiraga…' the Dragon Knight thought, observing his potential adversary for a moment longer before returning his gaze to the pathetic excuse for a man standing on trial. 'I pray that we are never forced to cross blades, for the plan in place to eliminate the Left Hand of God, Gandálfr, is as meticulous as it is cruel.'
"…and thus concludes the full list of charges that are being levelled against the accused." the Lord Chamberlain finished adroitly, rolling up the scroll and bowing deferentially to the Queen.
"Indeed. You have Our thanks for presenting them all so clearly and pointedly." Henrietta responded with a nod before turning her attention directly onto Cromwell. "Oliver Cromwell, you stand before us accused of no less than fifty charges that cover full gamut of severity ranging from violations of the Noble Code to full treason. No less than two of these charges, Regicide and the use of Mind Control Magics, including the use of such to compel and coerce women into your bed, carry no penalty less severe than death for even those of Noble Blood who violate them. How do you answer to these charges?"
"I refuse to even entertain this…this…farce!" the man spat back contemptuously. "I am the ruler of a sovereign nation, only the Holy See himself has the power to cast judgement and lay charges against me! A merely stripling of a girl dressed in pretty petticoats, sat on a throne she doesn't deserve has no power to charge me with anything!"
A low and dangerous murmur spread across the crowd of nobles and military officers as Cromwell cast his own defiance back at their Queen. Rather than seem insulted or taken aback by the bold claim, Henrietta instead simply seemed darkly amused, something that made Cromwell very wary.
"Were you a true Royal that would indeed be the case, Cromwell." The burgundy-haired girl stated with an inclination of her head. "The Royal Families of the Kingdoms of Tristain, Gallia, Albion, and Germania are granted both a considerable amount of authority and leeway by the Holy See and are, as a general rule, untouchable by anyone but them. In that, you are indeed correct. However, you fail to understand why we are given that privilege. You assume it to be tied to the thrones we sit upon, but it is instead due to our bloodlines, which are what ties us in direct lineal descent to Founder Brimir himself, that afford us our Royal Privilege when we take the throne. You hold no connection to any of the Royal Families, either by blood or even by marriage, going back at least ten generations. Thus, in the eyes of the Holy See and every other kingdom, you are no Royal; merely a usurper, a scheming traitor who sought to steal the throne from its rightful custodians and resorted to the lowest of crimes to do so."
Only now did Henrietta allow her own fury to show as she glared down at this pathetic excuse of a man. This…this…conceited wretch that had dared to harm her and all those that she held dear. Such was her hate that it was taking all of her not-inconsiderable willpower to not simply be done with this stupid dog and pony show here and now and simply remove his head with a whip-blade of water.
"As such, you have no claim to the throne that you dare to try claim as your own and hold none of the protections that are granted to the Royal Families of the Kingdoms. You are a mere Count with pretensions of grandeurs." the Queen continued icily. "The throne that you stole from Our deceased Royal Cousin Wales Tudor will offer you neither protection nor succour. Your former status as a Priest of Brimir is just as meaningless since you were long ago defrocked as an extremist and radical by the Holy See's own decree. This day you stand alone, Oliver Cromwell."
At long last, fear started to make itself apparent on the face of the Usurper of Albion. In his contempt and disdain for the Royal Families of the Kingdoms, driven by his own religious zealotry, he had discarded the importance that the Church of Brimir had placed on their blood ties to the Founder himself, instead attributing their nigh-untouchable status solely to the thrones that they sat upon. So sure was he that he had the Founder's protection and grace upon him, that he never even considered that he could be captured, that he could fail. Now here he stood, his protections and power ripped away from him, a veritable emperor without his clothes and now in true danger being executed.
Even the protections his former status as a Priest of Brimir had been well and truly denied him. Even a defrocked priest would normally be granted some measure of leniency and mercy as long as their crimes were not severe enough, but the regicide and mind control charges in particular removed any form of protection his former holy vows might have granted him. Those who dared to strike against the descendants of the Founder would be granted no protection from the Founder's Church.
"Now that your status has been clarified, I shall ask you again, Oliver Cromwell." Henrietta stated firmly. "Do you plead guilty or not guilty to the charges that have been levelled against you?"
Most people, when placed in a situation where they had been robbed of all of their protections and had their confidence well and truly gutted, tended to fall into either the 'flight' response or the 'fight' response. Cromwell, whose ego was not only smarting but had been positively battered by this latest turn of events, still managed to choose the latter and came out swinging.
"Not guilty, damn your eyes!" he spat out defiantly.
"So noted." the Queen of Tristain offered crisply before looking to one side. "Lord Justice, summon forth the first witness of the day."
Two Days Later
Queen's Chambers, Castle Tristain
"That man is quite possibly the most loathsome, disgusting, self-righteous, and utterly foul entity that I have ever had the displeasure of witnessing." Henrietta growled out as she sat in her quarters' small sitting area. "He has absolutely no morals other than whatever he believes serves his cause, and he is somehow proud of the chaos and destruction he has caused to Albion. How in the name of the Founder did that serpent-tongued, malicious oaf ever manage to get into the priesthood!?"
"Likely through favours owed, promises whispered, or money offered to whatever Bishop was in charge of Albion's Seminary at the time, Henrietta. It is times like this that I honestly regret that the requirement that prospective priests travel to Romalia for their training and ordination was waived centuries ago." Duchess Karin replied, absently patting her monarch and pseudo-daughter on the shoulder. "Say what you will about Romania, but the Main Seminary there takes their oaths and duties most seriously. Someone of Cromwell's character would have been booted out long before he took his vows, noble title or no."
The doctrinal reform that had led to that change had been the only time in recorded history that all four kingdoms had risen up in defiance of the Holy See in unison, all four Royal Families demanding the right to see to the training of their own priesthoods within their national borders. In the end, they hadn't gotten everything they wanted, but a compromise was still reached. Now, instead of all priests being forced to attend their training in the Holy Nation of Romalia, seminaries were instead opened in the other countries and the training of priests scattered amongst those. Only the ordination of priests had been required to still be held in Romalia's Main Seminary, and even that had wavered and fell to the wayside after a few generations due to the sheer expense and time that came with transporting so many soon-to-be-priests across the continent for a single ceremony.
"I am honestly having trouble believing just how stupidly this man is acting." Saito remarked offhandedly. He was standing behind Louse's chair, once more acting as her bodyguard. "He hasn't even tried to deny or challenge any of the allegations laid against him, or even attempted to muddy the waters a bit. Instead, all he has done is repeatedly deny that Her Majesty has the right to hold him accountable for anything. Has his simply lost his mind or is there something more going on here that I am not aware of?"
"I believe the correct term for what he is attempting is 'taking refuge in audacity.'" Marianne offered tiredly. The Dowager Queen looked utterly emotionally drained after being forced to listen to Cromwell repeatedly spout the same useless garbage day after day. "Technically speaking, there is no precedent for the sheer depth of crimes he has committed. There has never been an occurrence when a regicide has managed to get this far in all of recorded history. Certainly, there have been rulers captured on the field of battle before, but that always has ended with them being ransomed back to their country in exchange for the war ending and a new treaty being signed. That has been something that the Church of Brimir has enforced for millennia. Oh, of course war reparations and similar things have also been included in such treaties, but the national borders haven't changed since Tristain and the Grand Duchy of Guldenhorf signed a treaty that formally annexed the latter over two thousand years ago."
"And all of that is because of the bloodlines of Brimir." Saito offered, nodding in understanding. The Church of the Founder hadn't just been keeping society along with magical and technological progress at a near standstill, they had also been doing all that they could to ensure that the rulers of the four kingdoms were all directly linked to the same bloodlines for the past five millennia. Were he a betting man, the young Onmyōji would be willing to wager quite the sum that the Grand Duchy managing to assert its independence (from Germania if the name was any indication) wasn't a part of whatever grand plan they were working towards, and they had thus manipulated things to help bring them back into line while also increasing the size of Tristain, the smallest and weakest of the four kingdoms, to make a more level playing field and thus ensure the 'peace' they wanted to propagate was more stable as a result.
'Just what the hell is this church up to? What kind of plan could require keeping the world frozen in place for over five thousand years?' he briefly pondered to himself, before returning his focus to the matter at hand.
"Well, regardless of all of that, this situation is undeniably unique, as you so adroitly pointed out during the first day of the trial, Your Majesty." he offered with a slight nod to Henrietta. "He lacks the bloodline of the Founder and as such the Church of Brimir does not seem interested in offering him the same protection it does the Royal Families. Every charge that has been presented against him has been proved true beyond all reasonable doubt, thus stripping away any protections he was awarded by his status as both a former priest and a noble. Without a doubt, this man is guilty. Granted, there has never been any real doubts about that, but we have now presented all the evidence for the world to see, from eyewitness reports from Tristainian and Free Albionian officers, to all of the captured Holy Republic soldiers and mercenaries that declared Cromwell their leader and paymaster. That just leaves one question left, what sentence are you going to give him? With this case setting precedent for any future noble that thinks he can attempt to commit regicide and steal the throne of one of the Royal Families, there is quite the heavy weight upon your shoulders."
"Not to mention he called for your own death at least twice and the people know of it." Karin pointed out. "Any leniency that you offer to him might cause unrest and discontent to fester."
"Mother, at the same time, Her Highness cannot come down too harshly on him or she will be made to look like a tyrant." Louise pointed out unhappily, even although she dearly wanted to Explode the foul little man into a million pieces. "What is making this situation particularly tricky is that he is not even a noble of Tristain, but of Albion."
"I truly do hate politics." Henrietta groused, massaging her forehead.
"Begging all of your pardons for my ignorance, but isn't Queen Henrietta essentially the de-facto rule of the Free Albion forces as well?" Saito asked. "She is, after all, one of the last people left alive that carries the Tudor bloodline within her."
"So long as Albion itself remains controlled by an enemy force, she is only a supporter." Marianne answered with a shake of her head. "While the Royal Families have never been…pruned as badly as the Tudors have been, there have been cases in the past where branch families and distant cousins have staged uprisings to claim the throne for themselves while driving the legitimate rulers away and forcing them to take refuge in other countries. So long as she sits on the Tristainian Throne, Henrietta herself cannot claim to be the ruler of Albion herself, even of just a government in exile, and the de Vallière family, the only extant bloodline with a recent-enough connection to the Royal Family to hold both the Tudor and Stuart bloodlines, is bound by their own oaths to the Tristainian Throne and are thus ineligible as well."
"Hm. This is indeed quite the annoying conundrum." the Onmyōji nodded. He thought for a moment before a smile started to creep across his features. "Well, if you are willing to listen to this humble Onmyōji's idea, I might just have a suitably ironic suggestion…"
Later
Throne Room
Cromwell walked into the room of his own accord this time; after the first day, the man had apparently decided to try and save what dignity he had left and had cooperated whenever he was being moved between his cell and the Throne Room. He was still cuffed and still had four of the Queen's Musketeers standing guard around him at all times, with Agnès herself keeping a weather eye on the situation, however. He quickly noticed that the damnable outworlder was not in his usual spot standing guard over that little pink-haired heretic that had cost him so much of his fleet, instead he was standing to the left of the so-called 'Queen', hands seemingly held behind his back.
He briefly wondered just what was going on there before putting it out of his mind. This was not the time for idle pondering; he needed to once more show these weak and faithless fools that the Will of Brimir would not be shaken from him.
"Another day of this continued pointlessness?" he drawled out disdainfully. After the first day he had managed to rebuild at least some of his battered confidence. He was acting by the Will of the Founder and was anointed as Emperor in his name. Blood of Brimir or not, he was Chosen, blessed by the Founder himself. They could not execute him!
"No, this trial has ended, all the evidence has been heard. Now there is merely the passing of judgement." Henrietta stated stonily as she rose from her throne. Walking steadily forward, she glared down at him from the edge of the dais. "This court has heard countless accounts and witnesses to your barbarism, to your cruelty, to your utter disregard for the Code of Nobility that should bind all those blessed with nobility, regardless of their rank or status. I have heard the accounts of my personal agents, who were the ones who witnessed your hireling murder Prince Wales. I have heard from the lips of your own soldiers of the deprivations that you utilized the Ring of Andvari for. You have committed sin upon sin and yet you still proclaim yourself to be above judgment from anyone."
"I follow the Will of Brimir! With my every act I bring forth his vision unto the world! I am not answerable to the snivelling laws of lesser men!" Cromwell retorted proudly, his voice strong with his zeal and his stance firm in his conviction.
"Is that so? Then I suppose the only response is to see you sent to be judged by Founder Brimir himself." the Queen responded coldly, her voice ringing with steel.
"…what?!" the arrogant man breathed out faintly.
"I, Queen Henrietta Stuart de Tristain, First of my Name, hereby find Count Oliver Cromwell GUILTY of all charges presented before us!" the Queen declared for the whole court to hear. A susurration ran through the gathered members of the Tristainian Royal Court and their Albionian allies. Cromwell was left gaping for a moment before he gathered himself enough to sneer at the woman who dared to try and pass judgement on him.
Henrietta raised one hand and the room fell silent once more. "The punishment that is given this day shall set the precedent for anyone else who is foolish enough to cast avaricious eyes onto the Thrones of Brimir's blood, so in a way you shall have the fame, or at least the infamy, that you have so desired, Cromwell. I hope that brings you some solace." she offered dispassionately before extending her left hand outward. "Chevalier de Hiraga, bring forth the item."
Removing his hands from behind his back, Saito revealed that he was carrying a scroll made of some form of thick parchment, tied shut by an intricate blue ribbon that was wrapped around it. The outworlder quickly took a few steps forwards from his previous position before placing the object into Henrietta's hand. "As you have requested, Your Majesty."
"Excellent. You may return to your post." she said with a nod before returning the entirety of her attention back onto Cromwell while Saito retreated and retook his usual place behind Louise's throne once again. "Would you care to guess just what this is, Cromwell?"
"I am sure that you fully intend to tell me and everyone else here regardless, stripling." Cromwell growled back. He didn't, of course, but there was a niggling sense of familiarity battering at the back of his mind as stared at the scroll.
"This is a Patent of Nobility. To be more specific, this is an Albionian Patent of Nobility." Henrietta informed him with a faint, dark smirk on her lips. "Even more specifically, this is the Patent of Nobility that was awarded to your own ancestor, William Cromwell, when he was first awarded his status as a Count of Albion."
"H-How do you have that!?" the Usurper blustered out, eyes widening as he finally recognized the item. "Those should all be securely locked within the Vault of Nobility at Buckingham Castle!"
"While it is not a widely known fact, the Vault of Nobility in every kingdom does not hold the original Patents of Nobility granted to every Noble Family under that kingdom's aegis." the Queen explained to the room at large. "Instead, the Vault of Nobility holds only copies, made upon the same day that the originals were signed, that are then stored in a place where they can be accessed or viewed for any official purpose. The original Patents are always stored somewhere far more secure, in a location where they can only be accessed if they are needed for the most dire of purposes. For House Tudor of Albion, the originals were stored within a magically secured vault within the Albionian Treasury, which itself was sent to a secret location with this very castle when your followers attempted to gain access to it and the Albionian Crown Jewels during your assault on Buckingham Castle. Thus, I have this in my possession to use for the first part of your punishment."
Withdrawing her Sceptre from her belt, Henrietta raised it and briefly touched the tip to the ribbon binding the scroll. "By my right and authority as one of the last living true-born holders of the Tudor Bloodline, I declare thee, Oliver Cromwell, the last living holder of the Cromwell name, to be a traitor, a rebel, and a regicide! Your oaths have been broken by your own will, and thus your word is but dust and your name a disgrace. By the authority of my blood, I hereby strip not only Oliver Cromwell but the entirety of the Cromwell Family of their noble rank and title of Count of the Kingdom of Albion as just punishment for the betrayal of his oaths, the murder of a member of the Tudor Royal Family, and for innumerable violations of the Code of Nobility! So mote it be!"
Cromwell stared wide-eyed as he watched the scroll in her hand start to glow, before letting out a keening shriek of loss as he watched it slowly crumble away into dust. "HOW!? You are not the Queen of Albion!? You have no right or authority over my family's Patent of Nobility!"
"The Right of Vengeance. While I am not Albion's Queen, I am still a holder of Tudor blood, and thus I can still cast a call for justice for my kin that have been wrongfully taken from me." Henrietta offered simply as the scroll in her hand was slowly reduced to naught but dust. "You have been found guilty of murdering multiple members of my extended family before the eyes of magic and The Founder, with not a shade of remorse, doubt, or mitigation. By the right of my own blood, I am free to render punishment onto you, even such things that would normally be only permissible to your overlord."
As the last of the scroll became not but ashes in her hand, the Queen absently waved it off to the side, dispersing the remnants into the winds like so much garbage. "Now, Oliver Cromwell, you are no longer a titled noble, you are not even a Fallen Noble. Your title has been dissolved and stripped from the accords, as if it had never existed in the first place. You are now nothing more than a commoner that can wield some magic."
"H-How dare you!?" Cromwell roared in outrage. "Do you think that you will get away with this, you strumpet!? I will-!"
Whatever threats or promises of vengeance the now-former noble was going to offer were cut off rather abruptly by Agnès stepping forward to punch him solidly in what Saito would call the solar plexus, driving all the air from his lungs and forcing him to crumple to his knees as he gasped for breath.
"In case you had forgotten, your noble privilege was the only thing that has kept Our loyal Captain from laying her hands upon you while spat vitriol and spouted drivel at Us constantly for the past few days." Henrietta offered conversationally as her Guard Captain stepped back, a small smile of satisfaction on her usually stoic face. "Since you no longer have such protections, please keep a civil tongue in your mouth going forward."
Returning to seat herself upon her throne once more, Henrietta's voice echoed across the now quiet room as she spoke his sentence. "Oliver Cromwell, you have been found guilty of all charges that have been raised against you. Throughout these proceedings, you have offered no argument or explanation, shown no shame or remorse, nor have you expressed the slightest qualm or squeamishness regarding the actions you have taken. On the contrary, you have done naught but cast your defiance of Our Authority back into Our face, expressing naught but pride in all that you have wrought. Even now, all you show is rage for the punishments that We have rightfully brought against you, and even now you consider naught but plans for vengeance against Us for daring to go against you. Such an unrepentant defiance and lack of morality leaves Us with no choice but to sentence you to the harshest punishment available: We condemn you to death."
A low, savage growl of satisfaction and approval rose up from the gathered Free Albion officers present.
"Your greatest sins, your pride and your hubris, seem to most heavily dwell in your conviction that, as a noble, you are untouchable. We have stripped you of that status and position to remind you of a single truth, that it is the Royal Families that granted you and yours that title in the first place and We are just as capable of taking them from you." the burgundy-haired Queen stated, her voice hard as steel tinted with only a faint trace of satisfaction. "You are to be taken from this place to the central square of Tristainia, where you shall ascend the gallows that will be prepared there, and then be hung from the neck until dead. May the Founder have mercy upon you, for We shall not."
Death by hanging was a punishment that was normally only given to commoners; noble executions were typically done via beheading. By choosing that method of execution, Henrietta was once more reiterating her message to not only the remaining Reconquista, but also to any other noble that might dare to believe they could somehow accomplish regicide and usurp one of the Four Thrones. The price of such treachery would be more than just be their lives, but their very pride as nobles would be taken from them.
"Y-You…the other nobles of Albion will never allow this travesty to be permitted!" the 'Holy Emperor' demanded; fear etched on his face despite his failing attempts at bravado. "I am their Emperor; my people will seem me avenged and this insult will be repaid with every life in Tristain! Do this and you will not reconquer Albion in anything less than an ocean of blood!"
"Lord Admiral Pellew, Lord Rupert, please step forwards." Henrietta spoke calmly, utterly ignoring Cromwell's frantic sputtering. The two men did so, stepping to the front of the gathered officers of Loyalist Albion, both garbed in their dress uniforms.
"We are at your disposal, Your Majesty." Lord Rupert bowed.
"My lords, Prince Wales was my beloved cousin and I truly did love him dearly." the Queen offered, a look of true sadness passing over her features. "But he was your monarch, your liege lord, your friend and colleague. Albion lost so much when the traitor Wardes assassinated him. I find it only fitting then that the responsibility of executing the man who held that traitorous dog's leash and ordered not only the assassination of Prince Wales, but of King James and Archduke Montaru as well, be placed into the capable hands of the Free Albion forces that are present here in Tristain. It will not undo the evils that this man has wrought, but it might perhaps give some comfort to your officers, soldiers, and sailors to see the architect of their rulers' demise be ended by the hands of their own. Do you wish me to order thus?"
Admiral Pellew snapped his booted heels together smartly and offered a low bow. "Your Majesty, it would be a great and sincere honour if you would entrust us with this task. Order it, and it will be carried out."
"Indeed, my lady." Rupert had tears in his eyes as he echoed his colleague's bow. "By your will, let it be done."
"Very well then. Call in soldiers of Albion and I shall transfer custody for this man's sentence to be carried out." Henrietta nodded regally. "All I ask is that it be done as soon as practicable; we have an invasion to plan for, after all."
In short order, the Albionian Royal Guard, decked out in their ceremonial finery, took custody of Cromwell from the Musketeers and dragged him away, still cursing and screaming oaths of revenge against Henrietta, his voice silenced only by the slamming of the throne room's heavy doors.
"My lords and ladies, justice has been carried out." Henrietta declared with finality. "The murderer of my kin has been sentenced and will soon be dead. To those of Tristainian origin, I now order you as your monarch; go to your lands and begin to gather your forces. War is upon us, for Tristain and Free Albion shall invade the self-proclaimed 'Holy Republic' and cast the Reconquista down amongst the stones. May the Founder protect the righteous!"
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Next Chapter: Aftermath and Confrontation
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