This was all a formality. Guilt was a certainty, and guilt meant death. But there was a process that had to be followed, a proper way for things to be done. The outcome might be certain, but the process would be done correctly and to the word of the Law. That meant a trial, and good citizens coming from all corners of the land to bear witness. You're just one of them, attending the trial out of a sense of... what? Duty, perhaps.
Although the courtroom is of good size, with a high ceiling and two tiers of balconies, it feels suffocatingly small. The trial has drawn a good crowd, with countless bodies packed closely inside. Sitting amidst the lower balconies like this, you can barely move for fear of jabbing an elbow into someone's vulnerable side. Stifling heat, the sour scent of dread... even without the trial unfolding below, this place would be unpleasant. As it is, you'd rather be anywhere else right now.
A bang of the gavel, and the courtroom reluctantly falls silent. The wizened judge slowly takes his place beneath the golden icon of the Sun King. Even though you know exactly what he is about to say, you find yourself holding your breath. “You stand accused of the unlawful act of necromancy,” the judge announces, his voice cracked and strained, “What plea do you offer us?”
“I offer you nothing,” the condemned man replies, “This court holds no authority over me.”
The courtroom erupts in outraged jeers and shouts, bodies jostling you this way and that as men rise to their feet. You remain seated, frozen in place. The condemned man's words had been defiant, but his voice had seemed defeated. He knew, as well as anyone else, what awaited him at the end of the trial. Finally noticing the uproar around him, the condemned man looks slowly around the courtroom before his eyes fall upon you. Holding his gaze for as long as you can bear, you finally turn away with a grimace.
It's a terrible thing, to see an old friend like this.