It was the day of the trial.
A day like any other in some ways. Students scurried around campus moving to their classes. Instructors practiced their materials, preparing lessons with the routine focus of people who'd done this hundreds of times.
But it wasn't lost to anyone paying attention that there was a minute tension spreading around the academy like a fart from a very obese child—thick, pervasive, and lasting far longer than anyone wanted.
Word had spread about Duncan's tribunal. About the frameup. About the fact that a major noble house was prosecuting an outpost recruit for theft with evidence that couldn't quite be proven but also couldn't quite be dismissed.
Students whispered in corridors. Took sides. Placed bets.
Some thought Duncan was guilty and getting what he deserved. Others thought the case smelled like political manipulation. Most just wanted to see what happened when an outpost recruit faced judgment backed by noble house power.
