The noon bells of Saint Jude were still echoing across the tiled rooftops of Crown-Reach. Just then, the doors of the High Guild Assembly flew open, releasing a disordered torrent of high-born clerks, junior court guards, and silk-robed guild wardens into the muddy courtyard. Word of the King’s Bench ruling had struck the parliamentary floor like a thunderbolt from a clear autumn sky. Within ten minutes of Senior Chief Justice Vance declaring the Outlaw Bill null and void, the Speaker’s gallery had dissolved into shouts, overturned benches. The wild rustling of abandoned legislative briefs.
Inside the parliamentary chamber, the scene had been one of complete institutional collapse. The Chief Clerk had read the formal text of the King’s Bench injunction. Then, Speaker Haddon had tried to bring his silver mace down upon the rostrum, demanding an immediate vote of censure against the judiciary. But the common messengers and apprentice clerks had refused to carry the ballots. Half the noble deputies had leaped from their seats. It gathered their fur-trimmed cloaks and knocked over inkstands as they pushed toward the private committee exits. Leaving his silver mace behind upon the green cloth table, Speaker Haddon had fled through the underground library passage, escorted by four private guards with cloaks drawn high around their faces.
