The ‘preliminary’ interview had ended after that last, damning statement. Jordan had been dismissed to wait with his new family while the Judge prepared for the hearing. The… ‘Review,’ as it were.
Jordan only had to wait an hour, maybe a bit less, while he and the others waited in nervous silence outside of a new section of the courthouse. Eventually, they were called forth, and the ones accompanying Jordan were given strict instructions to remain silent during the Review. The poor, sweaty secretary from earlier brought them into this room as well.
The chamber was dark, and his new family was quickly made to take seats just off the main path that led towards a curving dais, wrapped around a single shaft of light that shone down ominously from an unknown source. The doors closed with a condemning, deep thud, and a voice called out as the rest of the chamber fell into shadows.
“On behalf of the Crown, the Justiciars of the Deva’s Judgement hereby declare that The Trial of The People v. Lady Freyhell Aureliana Hortensia-Kellham has begun. Walk your Path, and we shall determine That Which You Are.”
Jordan stood there, frozen like a statue. The room fell deathly silent and… nothing more happened.
He looked around nervously, and could see some of his new family members fidgeting in the dark, including Rahm, whom he’d never even seen enter. The darkness obscured them heavily, and when Jordan looked up towards the source of the voice, he saw only nondescript silhouettes. He couldn’t see the Judge’s bright hair, which he assumed should have lit up the room, instead only seeing three cloaked individuals sitting at that curved table overlooking the central spot.
Deciding not to keep everyone waiting, and assuming they weren’t going to call for him again, he scampered up towards the light, though he hesitated just outside it. No one said anything, so after a few more awkward moments, Jordan stepped into the light blinking awkwardly. The rest of the room disappeared completely into the now solid looking wall of darkness surrounding him.
After a few more moments of quiet, which made Jordan feel like he missed something, the familiar sound of the Judge’s voice spoke out.
“Do you believe that standing is the most appropriate way to address the court?”
The voice came from in front of him, though slightly elevated from his position. It was only now that Jordan realized just how raised up the seats of the Judge and his… helpers? Other judges? Other seats at least, were. Sweeting metaphorical bullets, he answered.
“Ahaa, ahh… I ah, I don’t know. Should I kneel? I can kneel if you, ah, want?” After a few more moments the voice critiqued him again.
“Do you believe that a member of the Freyhell Family, the predominate members of the Noble Families of the Proudborn should be kneeling?”
Shit. Shit, really? Was this all just a big trap? One trap into the other??
Jordan stood, kneeled, half tea posed and fell over ungracefully. In panic, he scrambled back up.
“I-I don’t know!”
“Indeed.”
The sound of scribbling notation filled his ears, and though the light was oppressive Jordan could just barely make out the motion of all three individuals furiously taking notes.
The silence brought on during their notes stretched on before the man spoke once more.
“Have you decided?”
“Er… decided what?”
“Whether to stand. Or kneel. Or fall upon the floor. How will you address this Court?”
Jesus Christ! Jordan hated this bullshit. Wasn’t this a courtroom? He was pretty fucking sure that this was not how legal trials were conducted!
But… he’d been warned, hadn’t he? This wasn’t a normal court hearing. This man… wants to destroy me. Fuck, this is so fucked up! Jordan thought.
“I…I don’t know. Which do you want?” He emphasized the question, and the voice snapped back at him in response. “Do you believe it should be the Court’s place to instruct you on etiquette?”
Etiquette? Oh, for fuck’s sakes! Of course! He had that! Right? Jordan slapped his forehead, the sharp sound echoing into the darkness. Right, okay. Etiquette, or ah, Socialize… activate!
He breathed deep and stood there. Nothing happened.
Jordan continued to stand there awkwardly, hand on head, as he bounced with manic energy. He still felt a little ‘juiced up’ after the exchange of fire earlier. Eventually the voice returned, “So, have you chosen to remain standing for this hearing?”
“hehe…ah… I guess, yes?” His Skill hadn’t told him anything. Or wait, Ability? Fuck! Was this right? What the hell was he doing here!? Fuck! He was still just standing there with a hand pressed on his head like an idiot!
Fuck!
“Understood.” Three sets of furious scribbling set about their unknown tasks as he finally put his hand down.
Fuck. FUCK! I fucked up. Should I kneel? SHIT!!!
“The court recognizes your presence. Please introduce yourself.”
Ah… what!? Didn’t… didn’t someone announce me or something? SHIT!”
“Ah… I’m, er, Aural..ianana….” OH COME ON.
“Can you… repeat that?”
Oh fuck! How do I say the Brat’s name again? It always comes out when I say my name, so why is it so hard when I try to say it myself?
“Aural…yana.”
“Aural…yana?” the voice parroted back.
“Er… may…be?” Jordan winced at his questioning response.
The voices were silent and scribbled instead. Fucking hell… why am I so fucking stupid at this! His nerves had already begun to consume him from the inside out. He’d… never really done well under pressure.
“W-wait… eh, ignore the first world I’ll say, but…” He took a deep breath to steady himself. I hope this works! “My name is Not-Aureliana.” Jordan.
The scribbles stopped for a moment, and then redoubled in intensity.
“So you would say your name is Not-Aureliana. Is that correct?”
“Er… yes. Just, without the not part.”
“So you deny your familial connections then?”
Jordan’s eyes bulged. “W-what? N-no, I just-“
“When we asked for your name, we expected your Name and Titles. Please give them. In full.” Said a voice to his right.
Oh for-
“Ah, it’s… Not-Aureliana,” Jordan, “er…. Hortenkell Firehell?”
There was a long, long pause before a voice from the side sighed.
“Child, are you incapable of giving your name?” A softer, feminine voice from his left said.
“Er… probably. Y-yeah…” Jordan’s cheeks burned with fire beneath the surface, damn near turning the otherwise white light of the spotlight he was under red with his embarrassment.
“Understood.”
The trio went back to writing. No one offered him help.
Eventually, the harsh, nasally voice from his right spoke again. “According to the records presented before this court, you have been accused of performing a forbidden ritual involving the Dark Expanse. Do you deny these allegations?”
“I, ah… I guess not?”
“Understood.” More scribbling.
The voice on the left spoke. “According to the records presented before this court, your actions destroyed three high grade artifacts. Do you deny these events?”
“Er… no?”
“Understood.” More scribbling.
The voice before him spoke up. Was that the judge from before?
“According to the records presented before this court, and observed through prior engagement from a member of this court, you have suffered a number of degrees of ins-“
The judge broke off oddly during his sentence, and Jordan stood there awkwardly waiting for them to finish.
“Understood.” They began to write again as the silence echoed oddly.
“W-wait!”
“Yes?”
“You didn’t finish your question! Stop writing!”
“You answered it child.” Said the one on the left.
“Yes. Quite.” The one on the right was rubbing at the side of his head, as though his ear hurt.
Jordan was getting fed up with having to whip his head about one way or another, since they were spread out so perfectly that he could only ever keep one fully in his sight at a time.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“I did? But I didn’t say anything!”
“Understood.” They wrote more.
“Stop! What are you writing! I’m not guilty! I’m not!”
The paused, and after a pause the middle one answered.
“You have already agreed that the allegations brought before you are of merit. Do you wish to return to those points and dispute them?”
“I… ah, yes?”
Okay, he had no idea what he was doing now but his heart was going crazy in his chest.
“Understood.”
All three in dramatic unison scratched out line after line in rapid fire motion, turned a page, and sat waiting.
This time it was the middle one who asked him, “According to the records presented before this court, you have been accused of performing a forbidden ritual involving the Dark Expanse. Do you deny these allegations?”
“I… I didn’t do it! It was the Brat! It wasn’t me!” He was breathing heavy. Was it hot in here? Was he dying?
The one on the right spoke up. “Explain.”
“Er… well, I don’t remember it because… because I’m Not-Aureliana!” Jordan.
“Explain.”
Jordan gasped, struggling for words as he turned to the one on the right.
“I don’t know! Okay! I’m not that stupid Brat, I didn’t summon anything, I got dragged here and turned into this demon child! Okay?”
The scribbling began again, and after a moment the gentle voice from the left spoke to him.
“Child. If you were dragged here and changed, then what were you to begin with?”
A sudden realization that maybe they might think he was some alien monster, like what Rahm had killed, filled him. Oh fuck me, why did I say that! FUCK.
“What? No! I’m, I’m not anything bad. I was a…a…”
Human. He couldn’t say the word… Human.
Silence.
No… I can’t…. I can’t say human? No! That doesn’t… that doesn’t make any sense! How can there be no word for the most common race out there! Right…?
It was then he realized… he hadn’t seen any humans since arriving. In the city, though he’d barely looked while watching his tongue like an idiot, he’d only seen animal people, or demons, with the occasional weird elf thing. Sometimes, people with odd hair, like the Judge, had popped up though none of them had been fire-based, but he’d just… overlooked it all. In the city, and then in the building.
He’d just assumed. This was a fantasy world, right? All fantasy worlds had humans in them. All of them! …right? It wasn’t like human’s couldn’t… couldn’t exist?
It was impossible? It was ins—
“What are you?” All three voices sounded out.
“I’m… I’m just a person. I… I can’t say what my race is though.”
They scribbled.
They always scribbled. Scribble scribble scribble! Something… was breaking.
They wrote down his life as his breath caught in his chest, as his heart leapt and bounced, dancing in panic. Hadn’t he had a tonic to help with his nerves? Had it worn off? Or was he too stressed? Did it matter? He was fucked! He had fucked himself! Why was he so dumb? Why!?
“Describe your People.” The kind one said. Left?
Silence waiting for him. Answer more? Already fucked. Fucked more? HAHAHAAHA.
“It… IT!… ahhaha… I, ah, was just a person. Just a person! I can’t say the name because… because my people are….”
Brilliance! Yes, he knew what to say!
“Because we’re bland!”
“Bland?”
“Yes! Really bland. No colored eyes, or, ah, horns and fire hair. Just… just regular hair! And regular tongues!”
The three looked amongst themselves and scribbled more. Always. Writing. ALWAYS. SCRIBBLING.
“Look! We’re just people! I was just a regular person! Two arms, two legs, torso, head, mouth and ass! Listen to me you fuckers, STOP WRITING!!!” HE ScreAmEd.
A new voice echoed out from behind Jordan this time.
“Ehem, sorry… Justiciars of His Majesty’s Court, but I believe my Granddaughter may be getting overstressed. If the court will allow it, I would like to give her a soothing tonic?”
The three looked amongst themselves, and nodded. Rahm morphed out of the Darkness, apparently trusted by the three here to be true to his word and not just poison Jordan. He would love a drink of poison though. Maybe he should do that later?
As the old man offered a drink, Jordan swatted at it. “NO!! Noooooo!!! They keep writing Sofu! They’re writing it all down in their books! Make them stop! Make them give me back the words! Stop them Sofu! Please take my words out! Please! SCRIBBLE SCRIBBLE STOP IT!”
Why… why was he screaming? Why… what? Who was sofu? Was that food? Tofu? Like cat-buns? He wanted some cat-buns. They were so tasty! Hehehe…
“Aury, here just,” Jordan fought against the man, punching at his four arms and stupid coat. Jordan screamed in defiance as he swatted, tore, clawed and refused to let the man help him. His own voice was so piercing it made his ears thrum and throat hurt.
Why was he acting like this? Why was—
“Aureliana! Silence.”
He stopped screaming. Mother? Mother please help! Please! He wanted to shout, but he had to be silent now. It was more powerful… than hads in the past? Did he taste blue?
“Drink.”
He drank the potion. It tasted like blue ass and scolding. But he…
Had… he been yelling?
Rahm nodded respectfully to the three individuals before returning to the darkness. Jordan missed him terribly when his form dissolved away into the shadows, and reached back out at him. But he… he couldn’t move from the center of the light. It was like a had, but not like a had. He could… push it, maybe? But that would be… bad. It could make a mad bad had.
“Are you well enough to continue, child?” The voice on the left spoke. She was the… nice one?
“I… I think so? I don’t… I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry. I think I was shouting?”
“It’s okay. I—“
A look from the middle one silenced the one on the left, and they slowly began to scribble. The one on the left looked angry at the others. Maybe they didn’t like how this was going? It seemed oddly quiet though, especially considering the movements the three made. It was almost like they were writing something? But he heard nothing, so it was fine.
“Who are you?”
“I’m… I’m Not-Aureliana,” Jordan, “of the freypeoples.”
“Did you cast the ritual to go past the Dark Expanses?”
“What? No, that was the Brat.”
The one in the center met his gaze. Something about destruction? Or was it taxes?
“Do you know what the ritual was?
“Y-yeah, some sort of forbidden summoning thing.”
“If you could cast the ritual yourself, would you?”
“Huh? I mean, maybe? Yes? I don’t know. I don’t want to die here, so I wouldn’t cast it normally, but… but I don’t know how to get home! Can’t someone send me back? I don’t like it here. I want to go home. I miss my mom.” Was he… crying?
Silence. Dreadful silence with quiet motions. Scribbling.
The left one spoke, “If you knew for certain that that ritual couldn’t send you home, would you still want to cast it?”
“Hell no! It sounded reeeeeeally dangerous. You know?”
Was he wobbling a bit? Jordan, not the judges, obviously! Though the three judges did seem to be floating about oddly. And were there more of them now? Wait no, that was just the Brat’s eyes going cross, haa!
“Understood.” Scribbling Silence.
The one on the right countered. “If you knew for sure the ritual could send you home, would you attempt it?”
“Pffft, no! There’s no way I could cast it. I’d try to find someone else who could…”
“U-understood.” Scribbling Silence.
Jordan felt… pretty good. Yeah. Like… just good, you know? Life was okay again, and all the mean scribbling noises were gone. Life was good. Just like…
“According to the court’s records, during the ritual three high grade artifacts were lost. You were accused of having done so, but based on your previous testimony—do you believe that it was you, or the ‘Brat’ as you call her, who was responsible?”
“Hah! Easy—the Brat! Poor kid nearly blew her head off. Hehehe.” Giggling was funny. Funny little noises.
“Understood. Finally, according to the records presented before this court, and observed through prior engagement from a member of this court—”
“You cannot be serious, don’t say it again—” The nice one tried to stop the middle one.
“—you have suffered a number of degrees of ins—“
Jordan didn’t feel good anymore.
It was weird, one moment it had felt like he was a cloud, but now he felt… sober? He blinked from within the floodlight, back up at the Judge’s. They were… writing something? He couldn’t really hear them though, so it was easy to miss.
“Understood”
The figures gestured animatedly as they seemed to converse with each other. The one on the left seemed to be practically shouting at the others. Jordan heard nothing come from them, however. They all seemed muffled, separated from him as the air shimmered, catching the words before they reached him. Were they… silencing themselves so he didn’t hear their debate?
After their argument was done, the one in the middle spoke again.
“A question of your identity has been issued. Given your inability to answer in a satisfactory manner, the Court shall ascertain it on your behalf. We shall have a recess for the next hour for the necessary preparations. Please wait in the designated area.”
The middle judge motioned over to the side, and Jordan saw the wall morph open into a yawning doorway. He looked backwards into the darkness for the Brat’s family, but because of his time in the light he could make nothing out of the darkness nearby. Nervously he glanced at the judges, but they remained stoic and quiet. Eventually, Jordan walked into the doorway and disappeared.
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Jordan found himself in a small, oval room. It was filled with comfortable-looking furniture of muted colors so as not to clash with the otherwise dark stone motif of the walls, ceiling, and floors. Looking around, he couldn’t see any source of light, and yet a gentle glow suffused the room, seemingly illuminating all things within from every angle. A quick check around confirmed what he suspected from that—there were no shadows in this room.
Did… did that mean something? Jordan thought about it some more, but couldn’t conclude anything with his fraying mind. Instead, he made his way inside and sat down on a dark sofa. It was distressingly comfy.
The room wasn’t excessively big—for once something wasn’t bigger than his apartment—yet the sparse nature of the interior gave it an oppressive, echoing atmosphere. Jordan sat fidgeting for a few minutes before his nerves got the better of him and he began to pace. The furniture was arranged such that it seemed pacing was a common activity they expected people to partake in while waiting in the dreary room.
Was… was he fucked? He felt fucked. This was why characters in other-world shows never talked about where they came from! How could he be so stupid? He knew he wasn’t going to be able to talk about it, and yet some stubborn part of him seemed determined to defiantly—idiotically really—believe that when the time came, he would have been able to think of something to say. Something to convince them with.
And had he done that? No! Not even fucking close.
He’d think he was talking to a madman had someone come before him sputtering nonsense like Jordan had. And hadn’t he had another panic attack in the middle of the whole thing? It was those damn scratching noises, it had to be! They had… triggered him?
Wait… what scratching noises? He felt like there was something he should be remem—
This was so stupid! Jordan slapped his face, hoping to punish himself in some meaningful way but instead he only caused his cheeks to sting and his hands to hurt. It’ll have to do, he buried his face into his hands. Him, triggered? That was such bullshit, and yet, how else did he explain his actions? He was behaving so manically—
Jumping from—
—thought to thought—
—emotion to emotion—
—and he couldn’t get a hold of any of it!
“FUCK,” Jordan cursed as a leg clipped a table and he hopped about holding his shin. He’d been pacing too quickly, and it turned out, burying his face in his hands—obscuring his vision in the process—had led to him running into furniture. Another idiotic move from a moron, he chided himself.
Jordan flopped over and decided the cool floor would serve as a good enough resting place for the time being. He ignored the way his body seemed to curl up in the fetal position, and the trembling that ensued in the stillness. Instead, he slowly banged his head against the floor, hoping some measure of wisdom or knowledge would enter his skull. Or at very least, maybe some of his stupidity would leak out his ears.
This didn’t make sense—he was an adult, damnit! But nothing was working like it should! Why?
And what was the last thing the judges said? Something about setting something up? Were they going to scan his brain and look for answers as to his identity? Would that let them see all that was Jordan? What would they do if they found him?
What would he do… if they found nothing?
The only sound punctuating the somber chamber was a small, quiet sobbing. Jordan only peripherally noticed that he was crying again. At this point, he was confident that in the last three days, he’d likely spent more of his conscious time crying than not.
What were they going to do to him? He needed a plan. But what could he plan? He needed a plan. But what plan?? He needed a—
“Yes, I know I need a fucking PLAN!” He screamed into the silence to make his mind shut up.
Hitting his head now with a bit of actual force, he put his mind to task. Yes, he needed a plan, but just thinking about needing a plan meant nothing. He needed to actually think of something useful.
But try as he might, he thought of nothing. His mind spun and spun, going nowhere fast.
Eventually, he stopped hurting himself. He had a headache now, and at no point had an epiphany resulted from it. He didn’t know what he was doing, or how to explain things to anyone.
He needed a plan… but took a nap instead.
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