Courts of Accusation (1)

The morning light poured through the windows of Sir Redlic's quarter, filling it with brightness, and the beams of light danced on the walls and floor.

Yet within the room, despite the bright start, the atmosphere crackled with tension.

Sir Alistair and Sir Redlic, their faces marked by seriousness and shadows, were locked in a conversation that hinted at some grave doubts and accusations.

Redlic, in the process of putting on a clean shirt, produced a series of crisp and soft noises as the fabric slid over his skin. The room was filled with the rhythmic shuffle of fabric. 

Alistair, who was sitting close by, watched intently while Redlic dressed himself. His eyes followed every movement as Redlic smoothed his collar, secured his shirt inside his pants, and arranged the creases in his fabric.

Alistair could no longer ignore the nagging doubts that had been eating away at his mind. He decided to seize the moment to confront Redlic about the topic.