“So, the hearing's tomorrow.”
Rosemary looked up at Joseph, who was practicing his metapower in the garden. She was lying on her back, a book in one hand and an apple in the other, rose mace standing on top of the fountain collecting sunlight, her burgundy cloak splayed around her like a butterfly’s wings. Joseph stood a bit of a ways away, soul fully manifested, the over-sized claws swiping at small balls of darkness that Phineas was summoning from his book. The Deep One let out a dry chuckle as Rosemary brought the subject up.
“Yeah,” Joseph replied, “Nothing too crazy, I hear. Phineas, stop reading Nintendo Power.”
Phineas let out a groan as he folded the magazine – which had been hidden by his spellbook – and put it down. The dark caustic orbs began moving once more, dancing through the air for a few brief moments before firing at Joseph. Joseph's soul began swiping at them, cutting through each one and battering them to the side. A triumphant feeling began rising in his chest as he worked. He was really getting good at-
A blur of motion. Something thudded against his back, phasing through the eagle and pouncing at one of the dark orbs. Joseph let out a yelp, collapsing his soul and falling to the ground. He looked up, rubbing his backside as Chadwick jumped at the orbs, a soft purr cooing from the calico cat. Rosemary began laughing, dropping her book on her face.
“Chadwick,” Joseph growled.
The cat took notice.
“Ah! Excuse me,” he stopped his prancing about and began licking his paw in a dignified manner, “I was just noticing you were having trouble battering a few orbs aside. Your bottom was open, and I thought to help you.”
“My… bottom was open?” Joseph said.
“Yes, your bottom,” Chadwick said, taking a polite tone.
“He means your butt, Joseph,” Rosemary heckled.
“I meant his legs,” Chadwick corrected.
“Your legs were open, Joseph,” Rosemary said, before collapsing again into a series of giggles.
“Oh dear, so crass,” Chadwick shook his head, “Children today, whatever shall we do with them?”
Joseph rolled his eyes, “Whatever. Thanks. I’ll keep what you said in mind, if that gets you out of my hair.”
“I am not in your hair,” Chadwick said, “I’m on your chest. But of no concern. Your poor excuse of a mop is far too short for a nest.”
He bounded off. Phineas waddled over and put out a finned hand to help Joseph up. Joseph grasped it, noting his friend's surprising strength as the Deep One pulled him to his feet.
“He is right,” Phineas rasped, “You are swiping too high.”
“Thanks,” Joseph said.
“Joseph!” Rosemary said.
“Yeah?”
“The hearing?”
That brought Joseph back to the present. It had been a month since he had returned back to the guildhall. He had tried to force the events of the journey through Nesona and Kelstonda to the back of his mind. Occasionally, he would get reminders from then - the wind picking up in just the right way, the way the night sometimes seemed to flutter - but aside from that, life in the guild had gone on as usual.
Archenround still had not returned. From what Joseph had managed to gather, from asking Becenti and Broon, she had been sent to a medical world in the Silver Eye Galaxy and was currently receiving treatment there.
“It's difficult, from what I hear,” the half-orc said, “Archenround has... a unique physiology. We needed to contract a specialist from the Exodus Walkers to take a look at her condition.”
“The Exodus Walkers?” Joseph said, “Moriguchi, and his guild?”
“Some days we're enemies, others we're allies,” Broon shrugged, “That's the guild way.”
G-Wiz had locked herself in her room, only opening the door for a few people. Wakeling. Becenti. Mallory occasionally. The woman in armor who had buried Nole's head, Heyma, visited her most often, though.
“It's just so sad,” Heyma had a surprisingly high, noble voice when Joseph had tracked her down, “She's alright – and she'll be alright. It's just riding the storm that's tough.”
“Yeah,” Joseph said, “Keep me updated though, won't you?”
“I thought you hated her,” Heyma noted.
“I did,” he grimaced a bit, “Listen, just- just let me know if anything changes, alright?”
“Alright.”
“Joseph!”
Rosemary was waving her hand in his face now. Joseph blinked.
“The hearing,” he said, “Right, the hearing.”
“What do you think it's going to be like?” she asked.
“I don't know,” Joseph responded, “Hopefully nothing too crazy. Like, they won't have high-powered lawyers cross-examining everything I do and say and pinning a murder on me, right?”
“It is the High Federation. They most likely will,” Phineas said.
“Thanks, Phin,” Joseph said, “That really helps the nerves.”
The Deep One blinked, “I am sorry. It was a joke. I doubt that you will get in much trouble. Guild business often has damage such as this.”
“Seriously,” Rosemary said, “I remember Mallory and Ezel had to go to the Federation a few months ago to explain why they had helped burn a mansion on Drolaria to the ground. This stuff happens.”
Joseph nodded, “That... makes me feel better, actually.”
“Enough to start practicing again?” Rosemary asked.
“...Yeah,” Joseph smiled at them, and then started the circuit back up. His soul roared to life above him, claws uncurling and settling on either side of his head.
“You must remember,” Phineas said, “Aim low.”
***
Becenti got him up early the next morning. There was a certain rhythm to the way the older man knocked that always made Joseph realize who was on the other side of the door. He got out of bed, pulled on his jacket and opened the door. The older man was already in a formal suit, his face set in that same stern look he had worn since Joseph's first day.
“Is that all you'll be wearing, Mr. Zheng?” Becenti asked, “We've got a big day ahead of us, and we have to look our best before the Federation government.”
“Sorry,” Joseph said, rolling his eyes and looking down at his usual blue jacket, “I requisitioned more clothes, but nothing on the fancy side.”
“Ah, the casual style,” Becenti deadpanned, “Very well. I knew that you would not be a force of fashion, so I went ahead and got you formal wear. It should arrive for you when you're done in the showers. Now, hurry up. We’ll be leaving soon.”
Joseph ran to the showers and washed up, trying to stay quiet as he changed in his room since Phineas was still asleep. The suit was a three piece, and it fit snugly on him – it was even comfortable. His father had always insisted that he know how to tie a tie, so he picked up the navy blue piece Becenti had provided and knotted it around his neck. A sly, suave feeling was starting to wash over him. He did look cool, like a spy.
Becenti's knocks pushed him out of dreamland. Joseph let out an annoyed huff and went out to meet him. After a quick nod, Becenti led them down to the sword in the Great Hall, where they waited.
“So,” Joseph said, crossing his arms, “They're really calling G-Wiz for this?”
“Yes,” Becenti muttered, and an almost-angry expression flashed on his face for a brief moment, “You all are witnesses.”
He said it with only a hint of bitterness, enough for Joseph to catch onto. Becenti was just as angry as the rest of the guild that G-Wiz was coming. Yet when the Federation official had dropped the letter off for court summons, there was nothing they could do.
“Any little bit of defiance we make against the Federation calls into question our legitimacy as a guild,” Becenti had said when Joseph had complained, “If we lose that status…”
“You don't have to explain,” Joseph had replied, “Still, it's not... it's not a good look.”
G-Wiz walked downstairs. She was wearing a black t-shirt that read 'Punk is Dead. Long Live Punk' and a pair of shredded jeans. She had dyed her hair again – a steely gray that she had spiked up in a vain attempt to return to normalcy. Heyma stood behind her, a protective hand on her shoulder.
“Alright, that's everyone,” Joseph said, “Let's go.”
“Not quite,” Becenti said, “We still have a few more members to account for.”
Joseph raised an eyebrow, to which Becenti said, “There's some more guild business in the Silver Eye I need to look over. Nothing major, but two birds with one stone.”
“Sounds fine,” Joseph said. He turned to see Phineas walking over. The Deep One was in pitch-black robes, his book in a bag slung over his shoulder. He kept rubbing his eyes as he waddled over to Joseph's side.
“You did not wake me,” he rasped.
“Sorry,” Joseph replied, “Didn't know you were coming.”
“It is alright,” Phineas said, “Gives time for my beauty sleep.”
“Ah, and here's Meleko,” Becenti said.
Meleko was an alien, with long limbs and a head that split to either side like a hammerhead shark. His skin was a mottled red, and he had two sets of eyes – two eyes on either side of the hammerhead, two more set closer to his face, just above an array of sharp teeth. He was wearing a black jumpsuit with bits of armor strapped to the knees, chest, and shoulders. A sleek pistol was hung casually off his belt.
“Ho, Becenti,” his voice came out as a ragged whisper, “Joseph. Phineas. G-Wiz and Heyma.”
“'Sup, Mel,” G-Wiz said numbly.
“Late as always,” Phineas mumbled.
“Had to look pretty,” Meleko let out a grumbling which had taken Joseph a few days to realize was his version of a chuckle, “I won't get a mate looking like a shidari, eh?”
“Eh,” Phineas agreed.
“Now we can go,” Becenti said, “Come, let us be off.”
“You'll be alright?” Heyma asked G-Wiz.
“I'll be fine,” G-Wiz said, breaking from her to join the rest of the party, “Thanks, Heyma.”
They crossed the garden and got onto the Dreamer's Lament. The journey was, beat for beat, the same as when Joseph had first crossed into the Silver Eye. They landed just on the edge of the desert on Beritale Landmass, all of them exiting out and crossing through the Traveling Point. They piled onto the Titania Amber and took off. The ship felt much more cramped this time because of the number of people inside. G-Wiz sat next to Meleko. Phineas set his great tome on the floor and opened a magazine and began reading, letting out a soft coo at the sight of some new game system or other. The only comfortable seat, then, was in the cockpit with Becenti. Joseph sat down next to him, looking out the window as they passed the vast, floating cities of Everlasting Truth. The sky was a mango-orange color, the various ships passing them by dark silhouettes with a few blinking lights here and there.
“So, Mr. Zheng,” Becenti said, “I see you have been practicing your metahuman abilities.”
“My metapower, yeah,” Joseph said, “Phineas has been helping me.”
“Anything to report?”
Joseph shrugged, “Well, I'm better at controlling the soul's circuit. I can break it easily without it blowing up in my face, or only manifest specific parts of the soul, like its arms.”
“Have you managed to identify any major weaknesses?”
“Weaknesses?”
“Every ability has its weaknesses,” Becenti said, “What have you found out so far?”
Joseph crossed his arms and closed his eyes. He recalled every encounter he'd been in where he'd needed his metahuman power to help him. The techniques he had used, the thought process behind each action he had made, the limitations that he'd strained against like an overtaxed muscle.
“The electric soul is good against energy,” he started, “Those plasma bolts, back on the station? Nothing really happened to my soul when they hit the arms or head, or anything.”
“A strength.”
“Yet when Mordenaro threw a tree, my soul shattered like it was nothing.”
“A weakness, then. And the effect causes a reaction in your body?”
“Yeah,” Joseph said, “It feels like a sonic boom rushing through me. Like when I first awakened, but worse.”
Becenti nodded, “That seems to make sense. I would be careful when you use your power, especially against someone as strong as you.”
Joseph raised an eyebrow, at first rather defensive at what Becenti was saying, the impersonal critique of something that was becoming very personal to him. Then, he continued ruminating on his words.
“You're saying that, at some point, the damage to my soul might be so great it actually damages my physical body.”
“You should have seen yourself when you returned from Mordenaro,” Becenti said, “You can't recklessly throw yourself at any situation. From what you've said of your fight with Mordenaro, it seems you're starting to realize that. I'm just telling you now as a verbal confirmation.”
“I…” Joseph sighed, “It was the only way I could actually get any good licks in, if he got close.”
“He almost killed you, Joseph.”
“Yeah, but that ain’t new,” Joseph said. He looked down at his hands, flexing and unflexing them, feeling their dull and familiar aches, “That’s what I do in a fight, y’know? I take the hit, because I know I can take it better than the other guy can take mine.”
“And what will happen,” Becenti said, “On the day that the other guy can take it better than you?”
The question rumbled in his brain. Becenti’s words were his coach’s words, from long ago, when he had first begun really getting into the whole boxing scene.
His answer was the same, too.
“I haven’t met anyone who can take more punishment than me. The day I do, that’s the day I’ll learn.”
Becenti was quiet at that. For a moment, he seemed like he wanted to say something, but he let the thought pass. The Titania Amber continued her journey across Everlasting Truth. Behind, Joseph could hear Phineas and Meleko talking to one another – Phinea's voice lowered to that harsh, excited whisper he got when he started talking about Myth Battle.
“They have just revealed the new Odin card,” he said, “It is very powerful. Very strong. I will build a deck around it, I think.”
“That's nice,” Meleko said dismissively, “Yeah, just like how you built a deck around Zeus, or Gargensis, or Silver Arthur.”
He was presenting himself as uninterested, his voice bored and drawling. Yet Joseph felt like something was off.
“You remember all their names,” Joseph cut in, turning around to face the alien.
Meleko's face blushed purple, “I, ah, well, that's true. But-”
“What set was Zeus in?” Joseph asked.
Meleko rolled his eyes, recognizing his defeat, “Gates of Olympus, you bastard.”
He chuckled and visibly relaxed, turning to Phineas to continue their conversation with, “Yes, Odin's good, but I'm waiting for Loki to be revealed. I'm hoping they'll be able to do him justice...”
“You're starting to fit right in,” Becenti said, “Good.”
“Myth Battle's a fun game,” Joseph said.
“Agree to disagree,” the older man said, “Oh, I do want to mention – do you remember that dead plane that we searched for at the station?”
Joseph's heart sank a bit as darker memories returned, “Yeah.”
“We've finally triangulated the position of that plane. It's in the forecast, so our client has decided to organize a small expedition.”
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
“And you want to invite me along?”
“It is most likely metahuman in origin,” Becenti said, “I thought it might be a good opportunity for you to see physical evidence of our heritage.”
Our heritage. Joseph felt a strange mixture of apprehension and excitement at the old man's words.
“Sure,” Joseph said, “Who's all going?”
“This will be a rather large undertaking,” Becenti said, “Wakeling and our client, the Lady Sunala, are estimating that the job will require around a good chunk of the guild.”
“A chunk?”
“Around twenty, give or take,” Becenti said, “Many of the friends you’ve made here will be there. I know Wakeling is expecting Broon and Rosemary to come along, for example.”
“And Phin?”
Becenti thought on that, maneuvering the Titania around a large, derelict mining vessel, “Yes, I suppose we could use some of his magic. It should come in handy.”
“I'm in, then,” Joseph said, “Might bring us something good.”
Becenti cracked a rare smile, “Indeed.”
***
The city of Blindness Eternal was, as Becenti explained, the 'Capital of Justice' for the Federation. It was far more pristine than the other cities Joseph had seen floating in the gas giant. Spires marbled white and blue rose out of the triangular city, rings running along the tops like crowns. Official High Federation ships flew above and between them, the signature four-pointed star hemmed in by four, interlocking hands painted on their hulls. They were far larger than any ships Joseph had seen thus far – warships, with almost predatory looks to them, the wings of the ships splayed out like a hawk's, the ship's bow curved downwards like a raptor's beak.
The Titania Amber magnetized to the side of Blindness Eternal, and the group stepped out. The ground of the city was dotted with monuments and statues – beings from throughout the Federation's history immortalized in bronze and gold. A few of them stood atop fountains, leering down at the crowd of lawyers, soldiers, and government officials. Much of the crowd wore pristine, white robes – a tradition, Joseph supposed, like how Brits back on Earth wore powdered wigs in court.
A green alien was approaching them, bug-like eyes as wide as his smile.
“Becenti!” he called out, bringing a three-fingered hand to shake Becenti's, “So glad you could come here, and on all days!”
“Glonthek,” Becenti put on his persona of amicability, “Glad to be here. You know G-Wiz.”
“Oh, do I know G-Wiz, indeed!” Glonthek winked at G-Wiz, “You haven't hotwired any ships lately, have you?”
“‘Fraid not,” G-Wiz said, trying to muster herself, “But I saw a few that looked like easy targets.”
“As if I didn't have enough paperwork already!” Glonthek laughed, “Phineas! My man! How's that card collection coming?”
“It is fine,” Phineas rasped, “I have collected many cards and built new decks.”
“Good stuff, good stuff,” Glonthek said, “My youngest has been looking into Myth Battle lately. Care to give an old etroblek some advice?”
“Perhaps after the trial,” Phineas said.
“And Meleko! Silver Eye REPRESENT!” Glonthek brought out a hand to fist-bump Meleko, who rolled all four of his eyes and returned the fist. Glonthek then turned his attention to Joseph, “And oh! The new guild member! Sir,” he extended out a hand, “Glonthek gel Glonthek, at your service.”
“Joseph,” he shook his hand, which was oddly cold and clammy.
“Glonthek's our guild liaison here in Blindness Eternal,” Becenti explained, “Any time there's a legal issue, Glonthek acts as our representative.”
Joseph looked to the alien, “Hopefully we haven't given you too much trouble, with everything that happened.”
“On Kelstonda, or are you hiding something from me?” Glonthek chuckled, “Nonsense, my good outlander. Standard stuff, really. Now come, the court will be waiting for us. Come along! Phineas, we’re moving out now.”
“Oh, yes,” Phineas said. The Deep One had been staring at the crowd, a mesmerised look dancing in his eyes.
Glonthek guided them through the city, white robes swishing as he explained the situation to the rest of the party.
“Now, obviously, the Marlish Empire is rather upset,” he said, “They've already had one too many multiversal incursions lately, especially after that terrorist attack on Stowan City-”
“Stowan City?” Becenti's eyes narrowed, “How come I'm only hearing about this now?”
“You didn't know?” Glonthek gave him a quizzical look, “Yeah, a couple of terrorists took a whole crowd of people in the steamport hostage. Killed fifteen of 'em. And that's after that whole debacle between Blue Sky Waiting and that rogue metahuman in Elice. Whole multiverse is going crazy, let me tell you.”
Becenti's walk became more measured and deliberate. He didn't meet Joseph's eyes as he stared at the old man.
“Anyways,” Glonthek continued, “They'll probably try to wring out payments for the train – which shouldn't amount to much, really. The few other passengers onboard declined to pursue any legal prosecution on their own, instead handing it over to the Marlish and subsuming it to the original case. That's been thrown out at this point, though – I called in a few favors to settle it out of court.”
“Sounds like you've done quite a bit of work already,” Joseph said, “What do you need us for?”
“Witness testimony,” Glonthek said, “Specifically, the court will require you to make a statement for the interaction with the Guild of One. Nothing too major, just sets the story straight to see who needs to pay for damages, and all that. Ah, here we are!”
A line of courthouses greeted them. Each one was dome-shaped, roughly the size of a stadium, with the same marbled white and gold as the rest of the city. The flag of the Federation fluttered at the top of each courthouse, and men and women were walking in and out of them in droves – some of them civil servants, others families arguing with one another over lawsuits and divorces. One of the domes had a military vessel flying overhead, lowering down a chute to connect to a hole in the roof to transport a dangerous criminal.
The courthouses extended out to each side, one after the other, from one end of the triangular edge of Blindness Eternal to the other. A hundred courthouses. Hundreds of courtrooms within. Lives were upended, changed, and debated here. Thousands of years of law collected in one place. Joseph felt, for perhaps the first time, the sheer size of the Federation, the countless souls who lived in the Silver Eye, each one with their own story, their own reason for being here in the city.
With an almost casual air, Glonthek walked through one of the open doors, jabbering all the while on the case, ignorant of the other lawyers, attorneys, witnesses, and defendants around him.
The inside of the courthouse they went into was spacious, though it still felt claustrophobic because of the small army of people inside waiting for their cases. Speech was the music of choice here – the deafening noise of a thousand conversations happening at the same time. One of Meleko's species was talking to a human. A strange, rock-formed dwarf was arguing with one of the attendants, who was a floating brain in a vat of sickly-blue liquid. A large, four-legged and four-armed purple alien with the shell of a crab was reviewing case notes with a pure white humanoid with five eyes and no mouth.
Doors leading into the courtrooms lined the walls of the main lobby area. Joseph stopped counting the doors at one hundred as he pushed and jostled his way through the crowd with Glonthek towards the long desk with about fifty workers tending to a large crowd.
“Yes, the case of Amber Foundation v. Marlish Empire,” he said to the pink-skinned attendant with snakes for hair.
“Yes, sir,” the attendant worked at her computer for a few moments, “Right. Case convenes in an hour, Courtroom 126. How would you like the tickets?”
“Paper, please,” Glonthek said, “We've got some out-of-planers here, if you know what I mean.”
He gave her a wink. The attendant rolled her eyes and clicked a button on her console. The console spat out a line of tickets, which Glonthek then took and passed out to the party.
“Right,” he said, “Just this way- excuse me, pardon me, sorry-”
They pushed their way towards the center of the room, beside a large statue. A few security guards stood by it to make sure no one would climb on as they went over and stood by it, waiting. Standing was uncomfortable, so a lot of the crowd was sitting down. Joseph did the same, sitting down next to G-Wiz.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
She gave a shrug. It didn't look like she was in the mood to really talk, so Joseph let it drop. At first, the group passed the time with idle small talk - Meleko and Phineas pointing out random passerby, Glonthek going on about cases he had defended in the past - though the din of the crowd overrode most of what he was saying, to the point that he needed to shout to get his point across. So Joseph stopped trying to listen, instead looking around the vast room. He craned his head to look at the statue. It was bone-white, depicting a human holding the hand of a large, vaguely humanoid thing, its head a stylized sun that floated a few inches over its neck. The being was twice as tall as the human, its long limbs reaching down to its pillar-like feet.
“The Alu'eer,” Becenti noted, noticing Joseph's staring, “They who searched and found democracy in the Silver Eye.”
“Weird guys.”
“Careful what you say around here,” Becenti warned, “The Alu'eer were the sacred founders of the High Federation, tens of thousands of years ago. The Federation was their opus. Their empire, styled with the trappings of republic. Any Federation official who hears you will be very... upset.”
“Where are they now?” Joseph asked.
“Lost. Ascended. Disappeared,” Becenti shrugged, “What matters is they are no longer here now.”
“Archenround!” Glonthek interrupted. He pointed into the crowd, where cutting through it was the serpent-woman. Archenround was wearing a simple white shirt – her armor and swords were gone. She had lost weight – her face was gaunt and pale, though her eyes were set and as hardened as they had been when Joseph had first met her. A nurse was attending her, crab-legs scratching across the marble floor.
“Good to see you, Ms. Archenround,” Becenti said.
She nodded.
“Standard rules apply,” the nurse said, “Archenround's only here for the trial. After that, it's back to the hospital for her.”
“But our request to transfer her to Everlasting Truth was approved?” Becenti asked.
“Yes,” the nurse chittered, taking a look at her datapad, “St. Galapos's Hospital for the Demonic.”
“'Demonic'?” Joseph said.
Archenround shot him a glare that quelled any curiosity, however. Becenti gave a curt nod and said, “Very well.”
“I don't mean to interrupt,” Glonthek said, looking down at his watch, “But they’re ready for us. Time to shine, eh?”
He gave a friendly smile, though the rest of the party didn't return it. Archenround began slithering, though Joseph noticed she was starting to stray to the right a little too much – the nurse steadied her and began to guide her in the right direction.
“Why is she even out of bed?” Joseph whispered to Becenti.
“Why is G-Wiz here?” Becenti replied, “It's the Federation's wish. And we can't supersede it.”
“Neither of them are in any shape to testify,” Joseph said.
“I know.”
“Then why don't we say something?”
“I just answered that.”
“That it's the Federation's wish?” Joseph was starting to get angry, “But-”
“Joseph,” Becenti gave a warning glance, “We are in their house. We respect their rules.”
There was a dangerous edge to Becenti's voice, though it wasn't directed at Joseph. There was something more to all of it. Joseph wanted to say something – ask more, prod further, see why Becenti was being so venomously obedient to the Federation's wishes. The way his brow furrowed, his frown thinning and becoming deeper, wasn't lost on Joseph.
Becenti hated being here. And he hated having to bring his injured guildmates along.
But Joseph decided to let it be. They were in the Federation's house.
***
Courtroom 126, in contrast to the lobby, was cast in an eerie silence. The room was gunmetal gray, lined with neon blue lights that ran the length of the room. The back wall was taken up entirely by a massive podium, in which, shadowed by the white lights above, sat three figures – Lord Judges of the High Federation. Tables sat on either side of the hall leading into the courtroom, bolted to the floor and cold to the touch as the party settled themselves down. Glonthek produced a datapad and laid it on the table, running a few numbers while glancing over to his opposite number at the other table.
“Rastonbury,” he said.
“Glonthek.”
Rastonbury was a regular human – the entire other table was. Representatives from the Marlish Empire, they all wore gray and brown suits, one of them had a trilby on the table next to a briefcase, another was polishing his monocle. They seemed entirely out of place here in this futuristic place, half-hidden in the dim lights of the courtroom.
A thin, reedy voice echoed across the room, its source the middle figure on top of the judges' podium.
“Galatea Wiz, approach.”
G-Wiz froze up. Glonthek let out a small curse and a “Right off the bat, then.” Becenti patted her on the shoulder, giving her a reassuring nod. She got up from her seat and walked over to a podium that was now rising out of the floor. She took it, gripping both sides of the podium's flat top.
“State your name, please,” the judge to the right rasped.
“G-Galatea Wiz.”
“From what plane do you hail from?”
“Doremi, the World of Music.”
The left judge, with her melodic yet commanding voice, “Do you swear to abide by the laws of the Federation and that everything you speak is true, to the best of your ability, on penalty of perjury and excommunication?”
“I, Galatea Wiz, do swear, under p-penalty of perjury and excommunication, that everything I say is true, to the best of my ability, so sworn by my fathers and grandfathers, mothers and grandmothers,” G-Wiz recited.
“Good,” the center judge said, “Now, I call upon Glonthek gel Glonthek. The floor is yours.”
Glonthek got up from the table, datapad in hand. He walked over to the podium and positioned himself next to G-Wiz. Reading out of the datapad for a moment, he nodded in satisfaction and said, “G-Wiz, why don't you tell us what happened when you crossed into Kelstonda?”
“Right,” G-Wiz said. She was silent for a moment, taking a deep breath, “We crossed over into Chandhala after Mordenaro attacked...”
***
It was grueling. G-Wiz finished her story, voice stuttering and catching at parts. She went silent for a long time when she described when Joseph cut the train line. Her voice tightened, more sad and despondent, as she described leaving Nole behind. Joseph could only watch, trapped and transfixed, as she went on and on, forced into recounting her experience. The room was quiet, save for the occasional question from the judges, as she almost broke down at a few points.
The judges were dispassionate.
Mercifully, they stopped her when she recounted leaving Kelstonda. G-Wiz was visibly shaking from her recounting, hands drained white as she gripped the sides of the podium. Then Glonthek's opposite, Rastonbury, got up. He was the man with the monocle, and there was a sureness to his step that made Joseph uneasy as he strode over to G-Wiz's podium.
“Ms. Wiz,” he said, “Is it really true that you used your Zumbelaphone to cover an entire part of the train with words representing explosions?”
“...Yes,” G-Wiz said, “I did.”
“And the train didn't de-rail?”
“It didn't.”
“Interesting, though the entire car was lost,” Rastonbury said, “But you don't deny you did it?”
“It was life or d-death,” G-Wiz explained shakily, “If I didn't do something, Mordenaro would be… be after us.”
“Very well, sounds reasonable enough,” Rastonbury agreed. There was an enigmatic look on his face as he produced a fountain pen from his jacket pocket and began writing into a small notebook, “That's all my questions, Viceborne.”
“You are dismissed, Galatea Wiz,” the center judge said.
G-Wiz shakily left the stand, taking a seat down by Joseph. Her face had gone gray. Joseph patted her on the shoulder as the center judge called out, “Archenround of the Whispering Fields.”
Archenround slithered forward, helped along by her nurse. She took the stand.
“State your name.”
Archenround signed. As she did so, a translator on the podium shouted out her words, robotic and strange in a grating voice that made a chill run up Joseph’s spine.
“Archenround.”
“From what plane do you hail from?”
“Tsaeyaru, the World of Ruin.”
“Do you swear...”
Archenround's tale was much the same. She swore her oath to the truth, then explained everything that happened. She seemed to struggle to remember key details and events, however, her brow furrowing when she explained the events on the train, her hands faltering.
“And then the Grim Walker punched me, and I... I... Forgive me, I do not recall the final details.”
“Very well,” the center judge drawled, “Rastonbury?”
“Thank you, Viceborne,” Rastonbury once more got out of his seat.
“Ms. Archenround,” he said, “Is it true that, after the death of Shetavalk of the Spioa, you were elected by your compatriots to lead the mission?”
“Yes.”
“Therefore it's true, then, that you were the one who decided to planeshift to Kelstonda.”
“Correct.”
“Might we have your reasoning?”
Archenround was quiet for a few moments.
“Ms. Archenround?”
“I have lost much memory from the last few weeks,” Archenround said, “On account of my injuries.”
“Of your injuries, of course,” Rastonbury said, “But you were the one to suggest leading the party into Kelstonda.”
“By conjecture, yes.”
“No further questions, Viceborne.”
Archenround returned to her seat.
“Mr. Joseph Zheng.”
“Go time,” Joseph murmured.
He went up to the stand. The three judges, still silhouetted by shadow and light, glowered down at him. He felt rather small indeed as Glonthek walked up to him.
“State your name.”
“Joseph. Joseph Zheng.”
“What plane do you hail from?”
“Earth, the World of, um, Earth.”
“Do you swear to abide by the laws of the Federation and that everything you speak is true, to the best of your ability, on penalty of perjury and excommunication?”
“Er...” Joseph looked down, and noticed that the next lines were read out to him. In English, thankfully, though he saw a few more alien scripts beneath and beside it.
“I, Joseph Zheng, do swear, under penalty of perjury and excommunication, that everything I say is true, to the best of my ability, so sworn by my fathers and grandfathers, mothers and grandmothers.”
“Right, then,” Glonthek said, “Mr. Zheng, as the most sound of mind involved in the mission and its conclusion, could you please explain what happened upon your arrival to Kelstonda, all the way to your exit from the plane?”
“Yeah,” Joseph said, “Like G-Wiz said, we first arrived through the Traveling Point at Chandhala...”
He finished up his story. It seemed Glonthek didn't feel like he needed any questions, but Rastonbury got up from his seat.
“Mr. Zheng,” he said, “Is it true that you personally did damage to the train?”
“Yes.”
“How?” Rastonbury prodded.
“I slashed the train during my fight with Mordenaro.”
“With a knife?”
“With, ah, my metapower.”
He knew then he should not have said that. The three judges shifted in their seats. He heard the barest whisper of Becenti cursing under his breath, magnified by the relative silence of the room. The head judge pitched forward. He had a neck and head like a sauropod – a small head, a stripe of blunt spikes running down the top of his vertebrae. His beetle eyes were inscrutable. Yet Joseph realized he had said something out of turn. The left judge began tapping on a datapad, light beeps echoing through the courtroom.
“When did you realize you were metahuman?” The center judge was quiet and rasped.
“Uh,” Joseph thought for a moment, “A couple months?”
“A couple months,” the judge echoed, “And what is your metapower?”
“Objection, Viceborne,” Glonthek said, “That is private information, under the Metahuman Act of-”
“I am well aware of the Act, Glonthek,” the judge said, “Overruled. His metapower may very well have been the primary cause of the destruction of the train.”
“I didn't do much,” Joseph said, “I slashed up the train. I cut the line connecting two cars together.”
God, that sounded weak. The judges did not react.
“If you would travel in lands controlled by the High Federation, be it in the galaxy or otherwise, you will need to register,”the leftmost judge said.
The center judge nodded, arching his neck back up into the shadows, “An unregistered metahuman, Myron? Most displeasing.”
Becenti's voice was measured and controlled, “I will need to correct that error, Viceborne.”
“One would think you were trying to help create another Ludaya,” the center judge continued, and Joseph saw Becenti's fists clench, “But no matter. Continue with your questioning, Rastonbury. Forgive this judge's imprudence.”
“Thank you, Viceborne,” Rastonbury said, “Mr. Zheng, when you were destroying the train, did it cross your mind that you were costing the Marlish Royal Railway Company a significant amount of money? Destroying an important cultural artifact?”
“Oh no, money didn't cross my mind,” Joseph said, rolling his eyes, “I was, you know, trying to not die. Like a normal person.”
Rastonbury nodded, “No more questions, Viceborne.”
“Very well. Return to your seat, metahuman,” the center judge ordered.
There was something off about the judge's tone that Joseph couldn't quite put his finger on. He walked back and sat down, looking over to Becenti. The older man looked positively livid, glaring up at the judges, hands still balled into fists and growing white. And Joseph couldn't blame him. It had been an uncomfortable interrogation, one that had gone outside the actual arguments being made. The judge's stoic air had been shattered, and Joseph now noticed that they would occasionally look his way, faces dipping out of the shadow to stare at him – a pink, dolphin-like face for the leftmost judge, a jagged gray mask for the rightmost.
Rastounbury's witnesses began getting called forward – the conductor of the train, the soldier who had spoken with Joseph at Lake Imdrahal. Yet each time, their looks and stares interrupted the proceedings. He felt pinned beneath their gazes, now that he was less of a vague curiosity and more...
A threat?
Something to be derided?
Joseph wasn't sure. He knew, though, that he didn't like it.
Through it all, Becenti said nothing. At first, Joseph was frustrated. Why didn't he say something, if he were so angry? Yet as he thought about it, as the questions and interrogations of the court became a buzzing in the back of his mind, he started to realize his mentor's words.
Their house, their rules.
Above all, the means to enforce them. To paint themselves as the victim, if Becenti argued against them.
They couldn't do anything.
The center judge, who had hardly spoken since Joseph's witness, interrupted his train of thought with, “One final witness, Rastonbury?”
“Yes, Viceborne.”
He had gotten his papers out of his briefcase. The air had gotten heavy, Joseph noticed, though he did not know why. Yet he could almost see it - The only sound in the room was their ruffling as Rastonbury sorted through them, his eyes squinting in the half-light of the courtroom.
“I call upon Mordenaro as my last witness.”