A horrible feeling came over Alistair once Lenoria was done discussing everything that had happened to her, from the day she enrolled in the Guild to the day she me Alistair. She made sure to leave nothing out and answered any questions Alistair had. She wanted him to know he could be honest with her, but more importantly she wanted to ease his worries.
"I had no idea. Anne, Carter, Carpathia..." The boy held up her hands from across the table. "I was aware of the kind of man Starflower was, but none of them had any right to put you through that!"
"I-it's fine, Al." Going over everything had taken a bigger mental toll than Lenoria expected, but she played it off as best as she could. Her goal wasn't to worry Alistair and definitely did not want a pity party. "I didn't want to worry you."
"Had I known Carpathia was that kind of man, I would have been able to come up with a more creative way to get rid of him. And Carter-"
"Is no longer in my life." Lenoria wrestled herself out of Alistair's grasp. "None of them are. It's not like I've forgiven any of them, but staying angry all the time wasn't doing me any favors. I was angry at the world for a while...until I met Clara."
For a moment, Alistair just stared at her. The girl's gloomy disposition as she spoke about her past suddenly shifted to sunny as she recalled the day she met Clara, the time she saved her from Anne's bullying, and how her career was saved thanks to Clara and Instructor Gardens never giving up on her.
"It is no wonder you adore Miss Clara so much. And Master Gardens is a saint for not giving up despite your initial hostility."
"Yeah, I wasn't always this sweet- Hang on, did you just call him 'Master'?"
"A wise man such as him, capable of teaching multiple subjects up to and including arcane magic, must surely wield unimaginable power," Alistair explained. "I must personally thank him for all the help he's given you."
"That's sweet, Al, but you don't have to."
"I insist. I've come to realize something after you told me everything." The boy, too, appeared less gloomy and vengeful now. "If they hadn't been there for you, there's a good chance we never would have met. You more than likely would have held on to that hatred, and I...never would have recovered my faith in humanity."
Lenoria gave it some thought and couldn't help but agree with her beloved. "I guess you have to take the bad with the good. But what do you mean about faith in humanity?"
"There's a lot that I've gone through. I've seen the worst in humanity, and in Thule, it's never far from you."
He closed his fists firmly, as if recalling a bad memory. He loosened his grip when Lenoria's soft hands comforted him.
"I could tell you've been holding things back. What's hurting you, Al? You can tell me."
"You were always perceptive. Very well, I'll tell you. But only because I trust you."
***
I was raised on a farm from a young age and worked odd jobs until I turned fourteen. I never knew my real parents; but the Pierces raised me as their own until the time came that tragedy took them, and learned the truth about my relationship to them in the process.
That's when I met her. I had seen a girl with silver hair from time to time, taking the road closest to my house to go to Europa, but we officially introduced ourselves during the first day of the new year back in 1654. Something attracted me to her, and it seemed like the feeling was mutual. In fact, it was thanks to her that I moved to Red Haven and was adopted into the Leone family. I had no family at that point, so it was easy for me to integrate with them. Their only condition was for me to train as a soldier, and since their patron was the Hammer of Justice, they sponsored my training at a religious boot camp.
I trained for two years, and when I was fresh out of boot camp, House Leone and House Bisset were in the process of setting aside their old rivalries. They needed someone to guard Lady Gabrielle since Lord Beau was sick on the day she wanted to have a picnic with close friends and family. As luck would have it, an assassin infiltrated this outing, but thanks to my detection abilities, I intercepted them in time before he could deal a killing blow. Lady Gabrielle was forever grateful since that day, so much that she initiated a truce between her family and House Leone.
Wait, so it was thanks to you that two feuding families buried the hatchet and let bygones be bygones?
Yeah. Her gratitude didn't end there, however; she wanted to unify our houses by arranging a marriage between me and someone of my choosing. The candidates were all beautiful, I must admit, and ranged from house maids to women who weren't in the immediate family but were technically part of the clan. That's when I met her again: the girl with silver hair. To my surprise, I found out she was actually Lady Gabrielle's younger sister, and we were both at a similar age. My attraction for her hadn't died, and she seemed happy to see me. So, as you can probably guess...I elected her as my fiancé.
Lady Mirabelle Bisset. We were officially engaged since then, and I was allowed to be her bodyguard whenever she went out. I had hopes that our outings would be romantic.
"I don't care how long those girls have been your friends. Tell them you can't see them anymore!"
"Just because I invited you out doesn't mean I'm footing the bill. You're a man, aren't you?"
That was...the most miserable time of my life.
Why did you stay with her?
Despite everything, Mirabelle saved me from a killer who tried to get me after I witnessed the aftermath of a murder he committed. I always believed that no matter how harsh she was, she had done everything out of love. I truly believed she wanted me to become the best person I could possibly be because she saw potential in me. I always believed that's why she pushed me so much. I thought she saved me because she loved me.
But every day I stayed with her, it became more evident she wasn't looking for love.
***
2nd of Cobre, 9pm, 1658
I couldn't take it anymore. After two years together, I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't care if it was noble tradition or not but being a 'proper gentleman' as they called it cost money. I had an allowance at House Leone since they took me in as their cook, but the pay wasn't that much better than my previous job. Yet Mirabelle expected me to rent a carriage every day and would expect me to pay for every meal we had outside the estate. I offered to cook for her, but she was not having it. By the time our relationship ended, I had racked up over four thousand gold in debt.
...Is that why you always offered to buy me things?
I'm sorry, Lenoria. All I've experienced from relationships I've learned from dating Mirabelle.
No, don't be sorry. I would like to hear how this ends.
Sorry, I'll get to that right now. One night, during one of her 'breaks,' she called me over to one of the local inns, 'The Hanged Nail.' Every time she went on a break, I would always beg her to come back to me. I didn't want to lose her, you see, and she'd always wait until I was overcome by anxiety to come back as if nothing happened.
Not this time. Even though she took measures to reach out to me, I was the one who made the final call.
"Darling!"
All Alistair could see in the inn room was Mirabelle's thin silhouette sitting on a large bed in the middle of the dark room. He reached out for a candle, but a cry stopped him.
"No! Don't, Al." Mirabelle sobbed. "I've hurt you. I don't deserve to see a man as righteous as you in the light. The darkness is more fitting for someone like me."
Alistair sighed. Mirabelle did not always cry, but this wouldn't be the first time she did to gain his sympathy. He was not in the mood. "What do you want, Mirabelle? You left a very concerning note back at House Leone."
"Why are you so rude, darling? I want to go back to how things were! Why else would I call you here?"
"By writing this?!" Alistair held up an envelope that had been torn open. It was too dark to read the contents out loud, but Alistair recalled every word that Mirabelle had written.
A cry for help.
Alistair!
Alistair, please help me!
This is so wrong! I was seeing another man during my break, but he wasn't the nice guy he claimed he was. I have to watch everything I say around him, or else he'll flip out on me. I'm taking a big risk writing this as he sleeps right behind me, but I can't just walk out or else he'll get upset! I don't know how to say this after the parting words I gave you, and you probably won't want me back. But you're the only person who can help me, Alistair. Pretty please? You always know what to say, even when my mental health is being mean to me. You are my first love. My knight. My king. It was wrong for me to leave you.
I'm running away from this man. I'll book a room at The Hanged Nail, and I'll be there for three days. I didn't want to write this, but if you don't come here within that time frame, I'll end this pathetic thing I call my life. Please come to me, Alistair. Please protect me from this madman. I can't live knowing you can't protect me. I just can't.
"Did you, or did you not write this?"
"I wrote that note, yes. I'm so glad you came, and-"
"You cheated on me?"
"W-what?" Mirabelle sounded nervous. "I-I wrote you a heartfelt letter asking for help, and you zoom in on the one negative? Besides, you knew what a break meant."
"No, I didn't," the boy said sadly. "You did this every time we went on a break?"
Mirabelle stayed silent, her sobbing now noticeably absent.
"You always do this." Alistair took a step closer. "You always claim things would never work out between us. I then beg for you to stay. You think about it overnight, only to say you made up your mind and leave me. Then you return days later, acting as if nothing happened. And I, like a fool, always took you back. Then a month or so later, it starts all over again." The young paladin wiped a tear. "You have done this over the past two years. Over, and over, and over. And the worst part? I always let it happen. And now it turns out, you did all of that because you were cheating on me!" He crumpled the envelope with a single grasping motion. "It ends tonight."
"A-Al, we've known each other for four years, and have dated for two of those! Are you truly willing to throw four years away?"
"Why not? You did," the boy answered coldly. "Over the past two years, you never appreciated what I did. I tried to improve my life for your sake, even went to cooking school. I'll be graduating in less than a week, you know?" A single tear dropped on the wooden floor beneath the boy. "Not once did you ever think about me. Not even to ask how my life was going. No, all you were concerned about was how I looked as a 'real man.'"
"Are you still on about that?" The girl's weepy voice disappeared in an instant. "Just let it go and move on, already! Haven't you already forgiven me for this before? Why are you making this so difficult?!"
"Not even an apology..." Hearing everything he needed to hear, Alistair removed a golden band from his ring finger. "The engagement is off. I'll tell Lady Gabrielle I fell out of love; I refuse to tarnish your reputation, but I will not lie, either. Please use this ring to cover any cancelation fees from the wedding and whatever venues you've rented for. Now, come. I'll take you back to your sister."
Alistair didn't even take two steps toward the door when he heard deep breaths, and they were all done through teeth; Mirabelle was angry, and she couldn't hide it anymore. "You're breaking up with me? How dare you! I'm the one who decides when the relationship ends, not you!"
"I already made my choice. Once we get you home, we're parting ways. This is goodbye, Mirabelle." The boy tried to move forward, but the girl's hands grappled his wrist firmly enough to hold him in place.
"If you're going to do this, then look at me!" Alistair refused at first, but the woman's soft, cold hands forcefully made sure he made eye contact with her. Or at least as best as they could, for the room was still dark. "Look at me when you're breaking my heart!"
However, Mirabelle grinned under the mask of darkness. The darkness of the room had concealed the silhouette of another person who had watched everything unfold. All Alistair could remember before passing out was the force of a blunt metal object striking his head.
***
"Get up!"
The force of a strike to the gut startled Alistair awake. The boy opened his eyes, and realized he was lying on a cold hard ground. He was surrounded by solid white walls, and the one in front of him slid with metal bars to keep him caged.
The armored man who had kicked him awake stood on the opposite side along with Mirabelle and an unidentified man. The two sneered at Alistair, but quickly disguised their faces with sadness when the armored man looked at them.
"He won't hurt you anymore, Lady Mirabelle. But are you sure you want to stay here with him?"
"What?" Alistair soon found purple coloring around Mirabelle's left eye and a bruised left bicep. It didn't take him long to figure out what exactly he was accused of.
"Yes," Mirabelle wept, "I have to find out why he did it. He meant the world to me, and I..." She sobbed and covered her eyes, a false cry Alistair had grown too familiar with.
"Lies." Alistair struggled to get more words out before coughing. "She's faking it! Look, there aren't even any tears on her eyes!"
"Shut your mouth!" The mysterious man accompanying Mirabelle kicked the metal bars between the two, but he recoiled as he painfully retracted his foot. "Y-you don't get to speak after what you've done!"
"He's right," said the guard, "assaulting a noble already carries a hefty prison sentence. Attacking one as kind and caring as Lady Mirabelle, well, let's just say you're in more trouble than you think you're in."
The guard bowed respectfully to Mirabelle before parting ways. Once he was gone, the noblewoman uncovered her tearless eyes and sighed.
"I thought he was never going to leave. Nice work, Angelo."
"Anytime, m'lady." The previously unidentified man, still hurting from his injured foot, bowed before Mirabelle and kissed her hand.
"What's going on," Alistair growled. The manacles around his wrists did not let him put his arms forward, and he couldn't walk with the manacles around his ankles. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Oh, where are my manners? Al, honey, this is Angelo, one of the fine men from House Nightsong. A real man."
Alistair raised an eyebrow. "What's with his eye? It looks bigger than the other. Is it a birth defect?"
"What?" Angelo scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. My dad was my mom's dad."
"T-the important thing is that he never denied me what I wanted. He does everything I ask him to, and he doesn't complain." Mirabelle grabbed the iron bars. "Unlike some people."
Mirabelle's words struck like hot iron daggers through the heart, but Alistair did not allow sorrow to wear him down. Instead, he seethed with rage, helpless due to his current predicament.
"When Lady Gabrielle offered the hand of anybody I wanted, you fought harder than anyone to be my number one pick. You claimed to love me-"
"Oh, please. Just because I said that doesn't mean I meant it. I never cared about you. I just had to do whatever it took for you to pick me. I couldn't let those other girls claim you as theirs."
Alistair raised his voice. "Then why? Why did you show up in my life?"
She may have had ill intentions, but Mirabelle's kindest act was to tell me the answer to one of the greatest mysteries in my life.
Mirabelle's lips curved. "Do you really want to know?" She giggled. "It's simple, really. All I wanted in my life was my very own lapdog. Someone who was so thankful for my presence that he would never question the things I did. Someone I could chain up and use whenever I wanted and would never complain about it. I had the perfect plan, too, but your father was in my way."
"My...father?"
"Oh," Mirabelle scoffed as if laughing off a mistake, "I didn't mean Janus. I'm talking about your real dad. Both of your parents loved you, but they made the mistake of taking money from a loan shark under my employ. That's why they had to give you away; they used half of their savings to give to your adoptive parents so they could raise you better while they took the rest and fled the country. They probably thought you'd be safer under a roof instead of living the nomad's life."
My parents...my real parents...they were alive. Mirabelle tended to be more honest whenever she went on a rant, so I thought she was telling the truth.
"The silver lining was that Janus was a drunk nobody who would do anything for money. When I asked him to make you miserable in exchange for more booze, he was more than happy to oblige. All he had to do was raise you to be a real man until you grew at the proper age, but I guess he couldn't even do that."
"But how..." Alistair didn't even know where to begin. "How did you know Janus when you don't even look older than me? Are you...human?"
"That's not important," the girl coldly said. "You silly boy. Don't you get it? If I made you miserable and isolated you from everyone who even remotely cared about you, then you'd have no one else to rely on but me. Oh, don't give me that look; men do it all the time to keep their women in check, so what's the big deal?"
Alistair had already hatched a plan, but he had to let Mirabelle keep going for as long as possible. "Why go through all that trouble, Mirabelle? Why did it have to be me?"
"Because you look so cute. You'd make a wonderful plaything and could even pass for a girl thanks to your looks." There was a malicious yet empty smile as Mirabelle grabbed a set of clothes from her haversack. She unfolded them to reveal a maid uniform, complete with thigh high socks and black boots. "Angelo is the man I want to marry, but if you promise to serve me forever, I'll drop the charges."
So her whole plan since you were a baby was to make you her plaything? What is she, a demon? You know that doesn't even sound right.
I know, Lenoria. It's hard to believe. I still have a hard time believing it, myself.
I always believed you were handsome, but I would never force you into a dress. What did you answer?
What any sane man in my position would say.
"I would never do such a thing!"
"Is that really your answer?" The dark lighting of the jail hallway didn't completely conceal Mirabelle's eyes, a blue, ice cold look of indifference. "Men everywhere will say 'Wow, that guy is so lucky to have a girl so full of love that she's willing to kill him!' They'll envy you so much that they'll dismiss your concerns whenever you speak ill of me! Come, what do you say, Alistair? You know what prisoners do to people like you in prison."
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
"You orchestrated everything since my birth just to make me miserable. If I say yes, I'll be in Hell. If I say no, I'll be in Hell. My whole life, I've known nothing but misery."
Even Mirabelle and Angelo were terrified when Alistair raised his head to meet their cowardly stares. With righteous anger, the boy seethed as Mirabelle was branded with the holy light of the Hammer of Justice, her forehead marked with his holy symbol.
"I will land in Hell, but I will not stay there! If I end up there, it'll be under my terms, not yours! Do your worst, Mirabelle Bisset."
If there was one thing Mirabelle hated, it was losing control of the situation. She was so sure I would say yes to her proposal, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't take joy in her moment of frustration. She's the weaver of lies, but the thing about weaving knots is that you have to be careful you don't get tangled from making too many.
"This isn't over!" The noblewoman stormed off in a huff, with Angelo following right behind her after soiling himself. "Not by a long shot!"
A couple of hours later, Alistair was visited by Gabrielle and Beau. He was happy to see them, but his smile disappeared once he met their stern faces.
"I can't fathom you would do something like that, Alistair," Gabrielle confessed.
"It was a lie fabricated by Mirabelle." The boy gave them a pleading look. "Please, I know it's hard to believe, but she and her new lover ambushed me at the Hanged Nail and..."
Gabrielle sighed. "I don't find that hard to believe at all."
Alistair was perplexed. "Y-you don't?"
Beau confirmed it with a nod. "Back when we were children, Mirabelle would lie all of the time if it meant she would get her way. She was always Mother's favorite."
"Be that as it may," Gabrielle followed, "if there's no evidence to the contrary, then you'll spend a long time in prison, Al. I'm willing to represent you, but you must either plead guilty or find hard evidence to your innocence. And these allegations are seldom easy to fight because of how easily they can be spun."
Grabbing the metal bars, Alistair shook them as hard as he could. "Lady Gabrielle, I promise I'm innocent!"
"You're an honest boy, Alistair. Which is why I will fight for them to give you the minimum sentence. Have you any proof to the contrary?"
"Not with me," Alistair admitted, "but there's someone who can help me. We met not too long ago, when she needed help getting some food. Please head to the shrine of Yeomra and ask Solveig if she can present herself as a witness in court. And give her this message..."
Solveig?!
Yes. She and I met a few months before that. She owed me a favor, and she knew it, so what better time to call it in than when I was in jail?
You kept calm even life piled things on you. It must have been hard.
Yes, it was. I only kept calm during visits, Lenoria. I didn't want to worry Lady Gabrielle and Lord Beau, nor did I want to give Mirabelle the satisfaction of looking defeated. But any time I was alone, I cried. I cried when I felt no hope, I cried whenever I remembered how Mirabelle betrayed me, and I cried whenever I thought about my parents. Mirabelle manipulated every event just to make me miserable, and even now I struggle to believe she did all of this for such a petty reason. Thanks to her, I've never come to know my biological parents, and probably never will.
I can't imagine all the pain you must have gone through. How did you cope through it all?
The only people who believed my innocence were the Bisset siblings. Even if I enlisted Solveig, I was fighting an uphill battle; I am a lowborn, after all, fighting the allegations of a seemingly innocent highborn girl. Mirabelle was known for her compassion towards the poor and the orphaned; no one would have believed me if I accused her of the things she confided in me. Not without evidence. I was alone, and the walls of injustice were closing in on me. I was close to giving up hope because there was no help in sight; people I thought I trusted betrayed me, and those who still believed me could not do much to help me. That's what I mean earlier about faith in humanity, Lenoria; there was no one I could rely on. No one except myself.
But I eventually remembered my boot camp training. Our drill sergeant, a rough man and even rougher mentor, taught us to do what we could, and to pray when the odds were ever stacked against us. He claimed that strength of will won battles, but faith even during impossible times won wars. And so, I prayed. I prayed for a miracle, for leniency from the jury, for Mirabelle to face justice, and for Solveig to pull through.
And then, the day of the trial finally came.
9th of Cobre, 11am, 1658
"Court is now in session! Judge McConnell, presiding."
Judge McConnell, an elderly man dressed in black and wearing a long white wig, went through the usual procedures typical for a court of law. He had both Alistair and Mirabelle swear to tell nothing but the truth, summoned a candle of truth (despite objections from Mirabelle and her lawyer), and heard the testimonies from both sides and their witnesses.
To Mirabelle's luck, she managed to overcome the candle's magic and won the crowd early on with an exaggerated recollection of the events from that horrible night. She claimed that Alistair barged into her room, punched her in the right eye, and squeezed her arm before shoving her against the wall. She sobbed and wailed as part of her performance, but her face would be indifferent and cold whenever her lawyer (and later Gabrielle) interjected by asking her questions, and then would grimace with anguish again whenever she resumed her tale. She would frequently point at the purple coloring under her supposed bruised eye just to drive the point home.
"Even my own sister is against me! My own family doesn't believe me, and that's what hurts me the most!"
It was obvious to Alistair she was faking, but he knew the crowd didn't constantly deal with her tantrums and fake tears like he had, much less for two years. Despair set in for the boy, and as hard as Gabrielle tried, the odds were against him for sure.
"There, there," said the man representing Mirabelle as she callously wailed as loudly as she could. "Your tears matter more than actual evidence," he added quietly.
It was Alistair's turn to take the stand, and he was followed by Gabrielle, who would ask him questions. As the head of House Bisset, Gabrielle has the authority to search Mirabelle's house to find proof of Alistair's innocence, but she could find no leads. All she could find was a book titled 'Manipulation 101,' and that was not considered viable evidence in the slightest.
Gabrielle took good care to ask questions directly relating to the incident, instead. Where was he? Visiting Mirabelle after she had written a suicide note to him, emotionally manipulating him to do her bidding. When asked by the judge where that note was, Alistair could not provide any evidence to the claim. The table of evidence included his belongings from that night, and said note could not be found there; Alistair quickly deduced that Mirabelle must have snatched it from him after he passed out that evening but before the guards had arrived.
This did not look good for Alistair. He knew that if he could not provide the evidence indicating his innocence, the judge and jury were within their right to follow the default law of the land: if the accused could not prove he was innocent, then he would be found guilty. Also known as 'guilty until proven innocent.'
The boy looked at the derisive looks of the crowd behind him, all shaking their heads with disapproval; he looked at the judge, who only gave him an indifferent shrug; lastly, he looked at Gabrielle, who had to withhold her own tears for the sake of professionalism. The boy knew what she was thinking. Plead guilty, plead guilty. It's your first offense, they'll be lenient with you.
As for Mirabelle, she held the urge to laugh. Knowing this would expose her, she settled for holding her mouth agape with lifeless eyes, smiling as she did so. Some in the crowd had noticed her, but she didn't care; they were nothing but insects compared to her, and only the words of the plaintiff and defendant, along with their lawyers, the judge, and the jury, were all that mattered in the courtroom. Victory, as far as she was concerned, was assured.
"Hold everything!"
The doors at entrance to the courtroom burst open by a big foot. A giant woman clad in black entered the courtroom with a large wooden box strapped to her back as the crowd whispered among themselves. A man in red followed soon after and pounced on her; however, to his misfortune, an electric shock repelled the assault, shocked the assailant in place, and pushed him against the courtroom wall.
Holding back his tears, Alistair was the first to welcome her. "You're late, Solveig!"
"Sorry, I had a tiny delay." Solveig removed her black gat hat and bowed her head before Judge McConnell. "My apologies, sir. I don't know how human customs work in the court of law, but I am a witness summoned by Alistair here. Will you accept my testimony?"
"Hells, woman, the boy here has already been condemned by law and the crowd," the judge said. "If you can prove his innocence, I'm all ears. As for you," the judge said to the man in red, "why did you try to stop her? You're not one of my guards."
I gave Solveig instructions on how to speak for me since she's never been to court before. I also knew Mirabelle was going to play dirty; if her plan was to isolate me from anyone who cared about me, then it was just as likely she was going to stop anyone who wished to speak on my behalf. That's why I instructed Solveig to come to court ready for battle.
"S-sorry, Lady Mirabelle," the assailant said, "we tried to stop her, but she was too strong."
"All ten of you?! You idiots!" Mirabelle shouted at the man in red, her face contorted into a dreadful grimace. "You weren't supposed to let the judge see you!"
I also knew Mirabelle was prone to temper tantrums when things didn't go her way. In a single instant, the tides had turned in my favor.
"Ms. Mirabelle," the judge said as he pounded the gavel. "I expect you to stay civil in court! And we shall address the words you just said later!"
Despite her outbursts, judges often favored the highborn during court cases. Had Solveig not arrived in time, I most likely would be rotting in prison right now.
"But-!"
"No buts! Ms. Solveig, please continue."
"Thank you, Your Honor." Solveig stood in front of the audience, placing herself between the judge and everyone else. "Contrary to the label bestowed upon myself, I haven't witnessed any crime. Even if I spoke for Alistair, I would be lying if I told you I knew everything."
Hearing this allowed Mirabelle to calm down. In her eyes, Alistair wasted what could have been a valuable trump card.
But to her surprise, Solveig inspected the table that held all of the evidence under the watchful eyes of the court guards, whose job was to ensure no one tampered with the evidence. On the corner of the table, she spied something that intrigued her. "What's that sheet of parchment there?"
"It's the ticket written by the officer who arrested Mr. Adams that night," Judge McConnell answered.
"May I read it?"
"Of course."
One of the guards removed the ticket from the table and held it up for Solveig to see. The giant woman glanced over at Mirabelle once, grinned, and spoke to the judge again.
"Your Honor, which of Lady Mirabelle's eyes was bruised?"
"The right one," he answered.
"Then why does this report say that her left one was bruised?"
Mirabelle froze in place as she felt a pit in her stomach. The crowd gasped and murmured amongst themselves, their voices fading back to silence when the judge pounded the gavel again.
Alistair smacked his head, recalling the evening he was arrested. He couldn't believe he missed such a simple detail; if Mirabelle's bruise was actually real, she could have still felt the pain and thus would have been able to accurately point out where her injury was. But since that wasn't the case, she had forgotten which eye she claimed had been bruised and picked the wrong one to color on the day of the trial.
Judge McConnell was furious. "Ms. Bisset, did you actually fabricate false evidence against this young man?"
Not wanting to incriminate herself any further, Mirabelle kept quiet and avoided answering the judge.
"You do understand that silence in this case is admission of guilt, right?"
"I....I..."
She weaved herself into a corner. All that lying and deceit was eventually going to catch up to her.
"I came here with a witness, by the way, Your Honor." Solveig set down the heavy box from her back. "Unfortunately, he's moved on from this world. Have all the witnesses been called, Your Honor?"
"Yes," the judge answered.
"Then none remain that could take the stand after this. Good." Grabbing a round piece of wood attached to her necklace, Solveig held it over the wooden box before her. "This will take about ten minutes, Your Honor. Will you allow this?"
"Proceed," said Judge McConnell.
Solveig nodded and got to work. Holding her wooden symbol above the box, she slowly circled around it, occasionally raising her head to meet the curious stares of the audience, Gabrielle, and Mirabelle.
"Your Honor, you certainly can't allow this!" Mirabelle pointed at Alistair accusingly. "He's plotting something!"
"He may not have provided evidence of his innocence against your allegations, Ms. Bisset, but you have showed signs of dishonesty. I was waiting until the sentence to say this, but I find it appropriate to begin the next case immediately."
"But you haven't even sentenced him yet," Mirabelle argued.
"Trust me, Ms. Bisset, it would be better to do it this way while we wait for Ms. Solveig's spell to go off. If Mr. Adams so wishes, we can begin the case of the crimes committed by Mirabelle Bisset immediately."
"Yes, Your Honor," Alistair said. "It would be wise not to delay this any longer. Would you not agree?"
"What?!" Mirabelle punched her lawyer's shoulder. "He filed a countersuit?! When did this happen?!"
"Ma'am, do you remember when I wanted to speak to you right before the trial?" The lawyer sank his head timidly. "B-but you said it could wait until after you've won? Well...."
A frustrated grunt came from Mirabelle, but she decided to do nothing more than cross her arms and sulk. It was Alistair's turn to smile, and she took offense to that. "I can't do anything here! What is he up to?!"
Over nine minutes pass. The spell was almost done, but even Gabrielle had to know what was going on. "Alistair, what exactly have you brought to the courtroom?"
"My salvation," Alistair answered back. "Lady Gabrielle, did you know there was a spell that can be used to communicate with the dead?"
"I've heard of it, but I never dabble in divine magic."
"Understandable. What about you, Judge McConnell? Have you heard of it?"
The judge nodded. "Yes, but it's usually divine spellcasters who learn it. Does that box contain what I think it does?"
"Correct. Ordinarily, such a spell can be difficult to use to its full potential. Most priests only live long enough to be able to ask five questions to the dead. But Solveig is something else; her devotion to the Lord of the Dead has granted her a power which allows her to ask more than the usual, among other boons." Alistair gave Gabrielle a sad smile. "That's why I asked her to bring in a special witness today. I already appealed to the judge and the graveyard this person was buried in, and they all agreed. I'm just happy it got approved so fast."
Gabrielle gasped. "You surely can't mean-!"
"My father got me into this mess, and he's the one who will get me out of it!" Alistair stood up and slammed his hands on the table. "Do it, Solveig! Allow his corpse to be a better parent than he ever was!"
The lid of the box opened just as Solveig lowered her holy symbol. A holy light erupted from inside, with listless groaning preceding the rising of a charred, decaying corpse. A shriek from Mirabelle turned the courtroom's attention on her, but Solveig stayed focused on the tail end of her ritual.
"Janus Pierce, or I should say the body of Janus Pierce." A swift movement from Solveig's hand kept the corpse in place as if she was manipulating it with invisible strings. "The body is a marvelous thing. His soul is not home, but it left behind ectoplasmic residue that can play the role just fine, and will be able to answer our questions. At least about any event preceding his demise, anyway."
"No. No!" Standing up, Mirabelle seemed nervous for the first time since the trial began. "Judge McConnell, may I be excused? I-I just remembered that I promised the orphanage I would sing for them today!!"
The judge shook his head. "Not while you're on trial, Ms. Bisset."
"They're using magic to call any witness they want! They're probably just manipulating the corpse to say anything they want him to say! It's not fair!"
"May I also remind you that it was Lord Demetrio himself who ruled that the dead counts as valid witnesses, so long as they can speak coherently and no foul play is detected?"
The accused did not bother to hide an exasperated grunt. She could already hear the whispers of those who had been rooting for her until now slowly switch sides.
With Mirabelle quieting down, Solveig continued. "Your Honor, you speak not to the actual Janus Pierce, but rather an ectoplasmic copy which has animated his corpse for a short period of time. It knows everything he knew in life, including his deepest and darkest secrets. Since we're different on a psychological level, he tried to resist the spell, but it looks like I managed to make him submit. He'll answer truthfully to anything we ask him, but we only get six questions.
I panicked the moment I saw Mirabelle open her mouth. We all knew she was going to exhaust Solveig's questions before we could get a chance to. It may not have saved her, but the less evidence we had on her, the more likely she would have gotten a lighter sentence.
"Before you can say anything, no, the corpse won't answer questions from just anybody." Solveig shot Mirabelle a glare. "Only I and the Judge have been granted permission to ask the questions."
It was at that moment I knew I had won the battle and the war. But Mirabelle wanted to make this more difficult for all of us.
"Judge McConnell, please understand! I-I have mental health issues! Y-yeah, that's it!" Mirabelle grasped for whatever words could possibly save her. "I-I'm not in the right state of mind, you see! I can't go to jail!"
"I've had enough of you, Ms. Bisset," the judge roared. "It's obvious you have no problem lying under oath, and now you're just saying anything you can so that the court shows leniency."
There was no way out for Mirabelle. The walls of justice were closing in, and all she could do was try to push them away. There was no stopping the corpse of Janus Pierce from speaking the truth, and her men were useless in stopping intruders like Solveig at the door. All of that combined with the evidence found against her, she lost the opportunity to run away. All that was left was one final trump card.
"ANGELO!!!!!!" The noblewoman's shriek was loud and sudden, startling most people in the court. Then the window closest to Alistair broke, startling the crowd even more. Angelo had jumped through with a longsword strapped to his gauntlet, ready to rescue his woman.
"I'm here, my love!"
"You idiot! You were supposed to jump through the one closest to me," Mirabelle said, infuriated by how everything was turning out.
"Duuuuuh, sorry, my love. I thought you wanted me to kill Al-" An arrow to the knee interrupted Angelo mid-sentence, forcing him to tend to his wound before he was knocked down by the courtroom guards, who bludgeoned him with their clubs until he passed out from the damage.
"Huh. Not as tough as his talk." Alistair stood up to join in, but he felt two delicate hands around his neck. "Guh!"
His only warning was the laypeople in attendance gasping when Mirabelle cast a teleportation spell to close the distance between herself and Alistair. Normally feeble and weak, Alistair found his ex-fiancée's grip to be surprisingly hard to break. He could feel her long fingernails inserting themselves on the back of his neck, breaking the skin.
"Release him, Mirabelle!" Wrapping her arms around Mirabelle's midsection, Gabrielle tried her best to pull her away. "You're making a huge mistake!"
"Mirabelle Bisset, I command you to stop!" As futile as it was, Judge McConnell continued pounding his gavel.
"No! I worked for eighteen years to have such a cute and obedient plaything! I won't let this chance slip away!" Mirabelle's irises shrank as Alistair struggled to break free. The boy tried pushing her away, but she wasn't budging. "Submit to me, now! You'll never, ever meet another woman who wants you as much as I do! You're trash, and trash deserves to be caged away in service of their masters! No one loves you, Alistair! You're lucky you even get to look at me at all! I won't let you undo everything I have worked-"
Mirabelle, bless her soul, had forgotten about Solveig.
In one swift motion, the giant woman used one of her big hands to grip Mirabelle's skull and lift her off the ground. The grip was strong enough to make the smaller girl shriek and she was forced to release Alistair after several seconds. The boy showed signs of life by coughing as loud as he could and wiped the blood that had started to drip from his nape wound.
"The Lord of the Dead sends his regards, Mirabelle. He's aware of your crimes and has sent me here to punish you for them." Electricity hummed around Solveig. "For conspiring to murder Lynn Pierce, an innocent soul, as well as the countless innocents you murdered, this is your sentence. This will hurt, but you'll live."
The guards were busy with Angelo while the spectators in the courtroom, panicking from Mirabelle's actions, had gotten up and fled. No one but both sides of the trial, the judge, and the jurors remained to put things back in order.
An electric shock fried Mirabelle entirely, starting with the left side of her face. The electric surge came from Solveig's hand, lighting up the courtroom with purple light as a string of lightning coiled itself around Mirabelle like a snake asphyxiating its prey.
"Ms. Solveig, stop this right now," the judge ordered.
"You're able to dish it out, but you're too thin-skinned to take it! What was that you said? 'Trash deserves to be caged away,' right? It's high time you looked at yourself in the mirror, because all the trash I see is in my hand!"
Tossing Mirabelle away like a used rag, Solveig immediately raised her hands to surrender.
"Seize her," Judge McConnell ordered. "And take Mirabelle to the prison hospital. Her trial date shall be postponed for now."
"Hands behind your back." One guard had handcuffed Angelo and escorted him away while the remaining four huddled around Solveig. The quartet agreed to let two arrest Solveig while the rest checked on Mirabelle. Solveig did not resist her arrest and was swiftly escorted away once she was handcuffed. As for Mirabelle, her dress was blackened by the electricity, and while her body suffered minor burns, it was the left side of her face that suffered the most damage. The burns looked like they needed immediate medical attention; even if they healed, it would be a long road to recovery.
"Solveig," Alistair called out to the rock giant. "Thank you."
Solveig stopped in her tracks. Despite their best efforts, the guards could not force her to move. "Save it, kid. Rock giants have their pride, you know. I owed you a favor, but it looks like I paid my debt and then some. If you really want to thank me, then bring me something to eat at least once a day. I hear jail food is terrible."
After confirming his promise with a nod, Solveig continued moving. The guards seemed relieved she was complying; it didn't look like they would be able to take her to her cell, otherwise.
"I see no reason to continue any further," said the judge, tiredly. "What does the jury say?"
"Alistair Adams is innocent," the jurors said, one by one. "And we find Mirabelle Bisset guilty of conspiracy and attempted murder."
"Then that's that. Mr. Adams, you're free to go. Case dismissed." Judge McConnell pounded the gavel. "Security, put that corpse back in its coffin."
The young paladin sank his head in disbelief. Solveig had spotted a single detail everyone else had missed, and riled Mirabelle enough to the point she couldn't keep her tantrums in check anymore. Gabrielle gave the young man a congratulatory pat on the back, while some of the returning audience members whispered amongst themselves again, most expressing disbelief that a 'violator' got away scot free. That was when the judge pounded the gavel again, getting everyone's attention.
"It is obvious Mirabelle Bisset could not behave herself. She'll be given the chance to appeal but given the number of crimes she has committed just today, it doesn't look any good for her unless you want to make an appeal as well, Lady Gabrielle."
"No. I believe several years in prison will be a good start for her," Gabrielle coldly said. "Mother spared the paddle on her, and this is the result."
"Then that's the end of that." Judge McConnell rose from his seat, removed his wig, and left it on his seat. "I need an ale."
***
Everyone had to remain in the courtroom for a little while since those present needed to be questioned so that the guards could write a proper report. As for Janus's corpse, no questions were asked that day; the judge and jurors believed that with Mirabelle constantly disrupting the courtroom along with the mountain of evidence against her, it was more than enough to charge her for the crimes of conspiracy, murder, tampering with evidence, perjury, and assault and battery.
But after a little while, Alistair and Gabrielle were free to go. Once the two were outside, he couldn't help but jump happily.
"You know, I could use a woman like her." Gabrielle, relieved that things had calmed down, stood next to Alistair. "I'm sorry you had to go through all of that, Alistair. I'm sorry for ever doubting you."
"It's fine, Lady Gabrielle. I had always been an outsider, so I'm grateful you were blessed with the wisdom to see past her lies. I kept my freedom, but I lost my fiancée." Alistair sighed. "Mirabelle lacked the mental stability to make wise decisions. She was only focused on me, more on herself, which prevented her from seeing all the potential ways her plan could fail." Alistair sank his head. Despite his victory, his spirit felt hollow. "If you and Lord Beau knew how she was, why did you allow her to pursue a relationship with me?"
Gabrielle sighed, as if she had expected those words. "She didn't just manipulate you, Alistair; she had us fooled as well. We believed her at first, after all. She's always been a pathological liar, but some time before you came along, she was on her best behavior. I can see why, now; she wanted to hide her true self long enough to sucker you into her plans." She patted him on the back. "I promise you that I will never let her hurt you again."
Alistair didn't just dodge a bullet; a cannonball had been fired into his inner mental sanctuary, eradicated a good chunk of it, and he somehow managed to survive the experience over the past two years.
"What happens now," the boy asked. "The cooking school won't take me back. I have the skills of a chef, but I don't have a degree to back up that claim. And thanks to the allegations, i doubt they'll take me back."
"I'm sorry, Alistair. I'm partly responsible for letting this happen, but not all is lost." Gabrielle clapped her hands once. "We go back to training. You lowered your guard and because of that Mirabelle put you in a chokehold you couldn't escape from. If you don't want to train with us, I won't stop you. But if you do come back, I'll ask Beau to be twice as hard on you."
Alistair gulped, dreading the days ahead. But he knew in his heart he needed to get stronger. He had barely mastered his paladin powers, and his combat prowess was only slightly above that of a new adventurer. If he could survive Beau's training, he'd get stronger in a short amount of time.
And hopefully, gain the strength to not only protect himself, but those he cared about.