Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: andsol@arcadien.owlnet.rice.edu (Andrew J. Solberg) Subject: Kron: [Keep]: It's Not a Court of Law, It's a Quart of Slaw Message-ID: <1992Jun8.054534.6931@rice.edu> Keywords: Kron, Creft, Panarchus, murder, frame Date: Mon, 8 Jun 1992 05:45:34 GMT ADMIN: Time works funny in Generica. For Kron, a few days have passed since he was jailed. Kron emerges from the enormous Dragon Portal of Glorshanned Keep. His eyes squint as he steps out into the sunlight. The dungeons of the Keep are not well known for their cheerful lighting. Kron's a mess. He still wears the civvies he came in with a week ago, but now they are soiled and tattered. To control the spread of vermin, Kron's head was shaved upon entry; now he sports a ragged crew-cut, vaguely resembling the coiffure he acquired some twenty years ago when he joined the Generican Legions. Conversely, his normally clean-shaven face looks a little bristly. And a week of near-starvation and isolation hasn't helped his complexion much. But that's not the worst. Kron looks like he has died. It has nothing to do with his clothes, his hair, his skin. It has to do with a particular dullness behind the eyes, as if a candle has just gone out. It is the look, seen frequently in convicted criminals and wartime survivors, of somebody whose raison d'etre has suddenly -- Poof! -- disappeared. Kron remembers the courtroom, a day earlier: "Mr. Kron, were you acquainted with the man known as Creft the Fence?" "Yes." "On the morning of Shaipur Rising, Tenthweek, did you meet with him?" "Yes." "Did you question him?" "Yes." "Did you threaten him?" "Yes." "Did you KILL him?!" "No." "......Quite certain, then?" "Yes." The opposing counsel moves over to the evidence table, and picks up a small shiny object, dangling on a broken silver chain: "Let it be recorded by this court that this object was found on the person of Creft the Fence by an officer in good standing of the Watch." He turns to the witness stand: "Mr. Kron, do you recognize this object?" "Yes." "Please tell the court what it is." "It is a locket. It belongs to me." The counsel turns his back on Kron: "Let the court record that Mr. Kron is under geas by the High Pilantiate to tell the truth. Mr. Kron, to demonstrate that this is truly your locket, tell us what the contents are?" He opens the locket's door. "A picture of a young girl. My sister." The counsel smiles. Kron stirs. "Oh, yes. And a small earring. Shaped like a star." The counsel frowns. **************************************************************************** So Kron has been set free on lack of evidence. Since the locket had obviously been tampered with, no earring being in evidence, the Watch's case fell like a legless table. However, innocence is not a cure-all. Kron looks down at the piece of parchment in his hand. It reads: "Mr. Kron: Due to your involvement in a matter of great sensitivity and potential weightiness, you are hereby placed on indefinite suspension from the Watch of Generica. Until you are reinstated, you are hereby stripped of rank and commission, with all rights and benefits accruing thereby. You are forbidden to bear the arms or armor of the City of Generica. You are forbidden....." Etc., etc., ad nauseum. Kron doesn't need to read the rest. He's been fired, in the only way possible without allowing an appeal. After twenty-something years of service to his home city, Kron finds himself jobless. Kron crumbles up the parchment. Fishing in a pocket, Kron withdraws something. It glitters at the end of its broken silver chain. Kron looks at it, then sighs and replaces it. Ex-Sergeant T. E. Kron, recently of the Watch of Generica, trudges home and debates what to do next....... -- Andrew Solberg |"Moving faster than a speeding bullet isn't andsol@owlnet.rice.edu | much use if you and it are headed straight Phone:713-529-8627 | for each other." John Brunner bridge-sleep-eat-sex-bridge-sleep-eat-sex-bridge-sleep-I'M STUCK!!!!