"I will not have the law be made a fool of!" the judge shouts. "Trial by combat is a mockery in itself"—gasps sound, unstifled, throughout the crowd in the courtroom—"and I will not have a woman invoke it in my presence!"
"It is my right as a citizen," you repeat.
"No woman—"
"—It is uncommon," you interrupt, "but Ladies have invoked this right for centuries." You turn and now address the spectators of the court. "Such women have called on champions, as is their right." It appears from the nods that they know what you say is true.
The judge could not remain silent. His face had tightened as you appealed to the people, and he nearly shook with rage. "And who would champion you—you, the Crimson Buccaneer—a known degenerate of the worst kind—a foolish girl who spits on the authority of man! I ask you again, who would champion a wench like you!?"
"I need no champion," you answer. "I am the equal of any man, and if the gods see it right for me to fail, I would be truly wretched to argue against them!"
The Judge's face turns a darker shade at your mention of the authority of the heavens. It seems as though he is about to chip a tooth in frustration. How you would love to see his own bitterness harm him, but you settle for the combat he'd be a fool to deny you now.
"Very well," he surrenders. A grin comes to his face—a grin worthy of any true fiend. "You'll have your trial by combat. Take her back to the dungeons!" Two guards take hold of your arms. The desire to escape creeps in, but you stifle it down. You have what you wanted; there is no way for him to change fate. "The trial will be held tomorrow morn—in the Spiral Tower!"
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