Being led by the God's Knight. Lance knew exactly what had happened. His rat cousin had yapped. He had no idea what became of Celestial Dragons who were sent to a judgment. He didn't dare ask his father anything. From the moment they had been summoned to the chambers of Saint Figarland. He had become icy hot. The tip-top of his anger scales.
Tyrus' face was screwed into a tight frown with furrowed eyebrows. He moved just a step faster than Lance. He positioned himself between Lance and his colleague.
The three of them had been taken into a part of the building that Lance had never been allowed in before. They had walked past the doors to the meeting room. The pure white marble walls and floors turned to dark brown mahogany walls. With black slate floors. The walls featured thin columns made of gold.
Lance's attention was drawn to the layout of the long hallways. He would one day be one of God's Knights. Then these doors and walls might be blasé. But for now he was trying to soak in every detail.
The group made their way to the back of the hallway. Two large red double doors at the end of the hallway allowed an ominous presence to linger in that area. "Come. Saint Figarland is not a patient man."
The man's hand was placed flat on one of the red doors. And what Lance thought was a light pushing motion. Was enough to move this thick metal door. The door dragged against the ground. Causing a metal screeching sound to fill the hall.
"This way." Walking into the room. The knight led the way for Lance and his father. The meeting room was thirty feet long. And twenty feet wide. One long red carpet came out of the other end of the room to right in front of the door Lance was walking in from. On either side of the carpet, there was a guard stationed every five feet. Men and women were wearing suits of metal armor and pointy helmets. Each of them holding steel spears. They stood still like wax statues.
Moving down the red carpet, Lance looked at each side of the walls as he walked by. Large white columns went from the floor to the roof. And self-portraits were hung in between two of the columns. Each of the paintings was of a different person. The self-portraits near the door appeared to depict individuals wearing ancient clothes. The clothing in the portraits became slightly more modern as they progressed toward the throne.
Once they reached the end of the room, there was a small staircase that led up to the throne. An ornamental chair sat at the top. On it sat an elderly man wearing sunglasses. He sat diagonally on the chair. He leaned back in the chair as he looked over the group. His white hair curved from the top of his head and from his beard. This hairstyle formed what looked like a crescent moon.
Lance remembered seeing this guy at a group dinner a year or two ago. But he honestly thought he had just dreamed of his hairstyle. The old man took a walking stick from the side of his throne. And slammed it into the ground. "Let the judgment begin!" The mood in the room took a turn. The old saint carried a level of authority that made the room uncomfortable to stand in. "Bring in the accuser."
From Lance's left, two guards walked in holding spears from a door in the far distance. Behind the two of them, Lance could see Charlos hiding in between them. He had a large welt on his cheek right where Lance punched him.
Charlos walked up next to Lance. The two kids are standing at the bottom of the stairs. Charlos was hunched over, standing next to Lance. Thinking he would get punched again. "Saint Charlos. You have accused Saint Lance of striking you without cause." Figaurland rubbed his beard. "Since this is a dispute between two dragons. We can resolve our differences quickly. Saint Lance. Why did you strike, Saint Charlos?"
Lance got ready to answer. He glanced up at the old fart. He swore he saw a red glint in the judge's eye. "Uh…no." Lance flashed a glance at Charlos. Promising retribution for dragging him into this. "Charlos spanked one of my slaves. So I punched him into the counter."
The room fell silent again as Figarland took in the information. "Hmm. Is the story true, Saint Charlos?"
Charlos was trying to build up the courage to lie. But as he looked up to meet the old man with eye contact. A shiver of dread went through him as the lie died in his throat. "Y-yes, Sir."
"Right then!" The old judge stood up and leaned his stick against the arm of the chair. "If that's the case, my judgment will be clear. Saint Lance. You are to apologize to Saint Charlos for striking him with such flimsy reasoning. We must never forget that what makes us better than humans is our ability to act civilly with one another." The two boys blinked at that response.
"Does that mean I wo—" Charlos began to speak before he was interrupted.
"And you, Saint Charlos. For bringing a false matter to my attention. You shall be put to death." Both the boys' hearts skipped a beat. Lance noticed his father pulling the family axe from his waist. Out from under his coat.
At that moment, while Lance was distracted, the elder knight moved down from the top of the stairs. He was now standing in front of the two young dragons. A saber was grasped in his hand. The blade was pressed up against Charlos' shoulder. His robe cloth had been cut, and a small amount of blood was dripping through the normally white cloth.
Charlos let out the smallest of whimpers as he felt the cold steel against his body. Lance observed the two of them with a silent gaze. His body was shaking a bit as he wondered if he was really going to see his cousin get cut down. To his relief, the sword was slowly pulled back. As its metal blade left Charlos. The pudgy cousin winced as the tip of the blade passed over the split in his skin. "This is your only warning. Judgments are not meant for such petty squabbles. If either of you attempts to call for a ruling on such trivial matters again, I will execute both of you." He pressed the tip of his blade to his scabbard. He slid the weapon down until he could tilt it back and return it to the leather sheath.
"Please return Saint Charlos to his quarters, Saint Figarland." The old judge commanded. The red-headed knight followed instructions and picked up Charlos by the back of his robe.
"Yes, your Holiness." He carried away the young man. This left Lance and his father alone with the crazy old geezer.
"Is that all you require, Supreme Commander?" Lance looked up at his father after he said that. He can't remember the last time his father gave someone respect like they were his superior.
"Not at all, Saint Tyrus. But please. Return to your quarters and continue this young man's training. I will be around to ask my questions." There was a beat of silence between the three of them.
"As you say, Saint Figarland. Come, Lance. Let's finish what we were working on today." Tyrus turned Lance towards the door. The two of them walked towards the door.