Chapter 20: Luxia’s Courts pt2
Sairal stares at the dryad he swore to kill someday.
A frown plasters onto the dryad’s bookish face when he uses Identify on Sairal. The frown twists in disgust when he sees the element Sairal chose for his (E) grade evolution. That’s right. You are one of bloom and growth, so I became one of decay and death to spite you.
The frown falls away for a moment, showing true anger. But as soon as it came, it is gone again.
A small victory.
He almost wants to raise his hand and wave at the (C) grade, provoking him further. Sadly, that would be a bit too inappropriate for the setting. Instead, he makes sure to meet Aziri’s eyes, smiling all the while.
Aziri’s aura bursts out, making the room fall into silence. He feels it wash over him, trying to nudge him into a certain direction, making the air feel thin around him but all those tricks won’t work thanks to the Pill of Aura Resistance.
Both lock eyes again.
Sairal winks.
Having settled that, he turns towards the King and makes a deep bow.
The front of the room is desolate compared to the sides where all the members of both Courts sit. There are only two thrones, the left one taken by the King, the right one empty. A large glass window behind the thrones lets light pour into the room. But more importantly, it shows off the King’s dryad heart.
He wanted to see the tree for himself. The Songbird claimed that they found out what one of the advancement quests of the King is. They kept whispering that for one of the quests the King has, he needs to convert his heart into a world tree sapling.
And it turns out that the Songbird was right. When he focuses all of himself on the tree, he can sense something different from it.
He turns back to the King. Like most dryads, the King’s skin is a healthy green with the familiar bark-like texture. The throne holds his bulky, yet regal, frame. Armour made from living wood tied together with Ironvine, covers most of the King’s body. A crown of golden leaves sits on his head, elderberries that look like rubies slotted in it like gems.
Not afraid, believing that the pill will protect him, he meets the eyes of the King. With all the dryads Sairal met before, he could see the roots of their dryad trees behind their eyes. But with the King…with the King, he sees a labyrinth of endless roots that intertwine and separate in dizzy-making patterns.
Unknowingly, he almost takes a step backwards but manages to compose himself again. Instead, he stiffly nods at the King while ignoring the passive aura that washes off the dryad.
The King that had been resting his head on his hand, cocks it to the side, amused.
Sairal takes a deep breath. This is my time, my show, my moment. I will do everything that I want.
He clears his throat as loudly as he can, making the Courts fall silent. All eyes focus on him. In the corner of his eye, he even sees Aziri lean forwards. “Greetings my King,” his voice is loud and refined, carrying to each corner of the room. He bows to the King before continuing. It’s always good to get into the King’s graces. “I thank you for gracing us with your presence. Although, when I came it was said that the Queen would also be present,” he lies, milking this moment for every scrap of information.
Instantly muttering erupts from the tribunals. Sairal can even make out a few insults thrown at him.
The King raises his hand, demanding silence, “The Queen is occupied with other matters at the moment.”
This time Sairal keeps the smile off his face, “How unfortunate. It would have been a great honour to meet her too. May I know what has her majesty occupied?” he pries.
More muttering from the stands and more insults thrown his way. Again, the King raises his hand, making the Courts fall silent. He nods, “You may. As everyone knows, The spell cast by the Weatherman has drawn more mana to our great forest. Therefore we suffer more attacks at our borders. Especially below,” Sairal puts a frown on his face. “The queens and kings of the Depths consider this a valuable chance to break through our defences. They have been sending out their broodspawn and lower royals to set up nests close to the surface.
“In retaliation, my Queen has delved into the world below to show where the Cave crawlers belong. After all, they should know their place.” Everyone nods as if this is common knowledge.
Sairal commits it all to his mind. This can be worth a lot in the wrong hands, but he will never go that far. Only if he’s forced to.
“Now with the pleasantries done. Let’s begin. The Courts have received the report you sent. You haven’t exactly done something wrong on your part, but Aziri has brought your past to my attention. It seems like you often are in the wrong place at the wrong time, don’t you think?”
The dryad of moss and decay clenches his jaw as the King continues, “So much so that it has become suspicious. I have looked into the matter and I have agreed with Aziri. Something is strange about you. First a cave collapse on the first floor. Then a streak of dozens of minor incidents, and finally meeting not one but two second-lifers with barely ten days in between. And now even the incident with the Fortress beavers.”
Aziri raises his hand. With a look from the King, he is allowed to speak, “My King. You are forgetting the Wolf-blooded alligator. There hasn’t been one spotted for decades in the forest and then one suddenly pops up near this dryad.” The aura washes over Sairal like a tidal wave. It tries to push the air out of his lungs, lure him into a corner, and nudge him into admitting things he has never done.
The King nods, “Indeed. That too,” he ruminates on it.
Aziri flashes the tiniest hints of a smile at Sairal before speaking up again. “My King. In my opinion, it would be wise to backtrack to the first incident this dryad has played a part in. It might give you the necessary information to judge.”
Sairal shakes his head immediately, “Sire, that is not relevant to this. It’s-”
The air shimmers and suddenly smells like the zenith of spring where all plants blossom, realising their sweet scents. It smells like life that spring brings and like sweet fruit and honey.
Aziri’s frosty voice clashes with his aura, “Silence (E) grade. We are here to judge you. You cannot say what we are allowed and aren’t allowed to do,” A smirk lands on his face, “Now let us start with the first incident this dryad was involved in.”
Aziri clears his throat, making a show of it, “Sairal, this young dryad was involved in an accident that happened a few decades ago,” Aziri reaches out with his hand and fetches a paper out of thin air. His eyes flick over it and he begins to read aloud, “Thrity-three years ago this dryad joined deep diver team seventy-eight. At the time, this was a group of (F) grade dryads. Sairal, recently evolved to said grade, joined the squad. All died in the depths due to an ‘incident’. The only surviving member was Sairal, a bottom (F) grade that didn’t have a single level under his belt.
“What happened in the caves is unknown even to this day. Sairal claims that everyone died in a cave collapse when a reverberation ran through the upper cave systems.” Aziri elaborates for the beings that aren’t familiar with the affairs of the World Below.
“When we arrived the cave indeed collapsed. The only strange thing is that there were no bodies to be found. Everyone was presumed to be dead until Sairal walked out of one of the caves having almost reached the peak of (F) grade not even three weeks later,” Aziri lets go of the paper and it flies through the room towards one of the bookshelves to find its rightful place.
Sairal feels the aura batter against him again, pressing on his skin, pressuring him to speak up and confess to something he never did.
“Sairal claims to have seen nothing and have done nothing. He doesn’t have any memories of the incident and pleads innocent, even to this day. Sairal, has that changed?”
The aura of Aziri intensifies around Sairal, clawing at him, closing in like a trap, pushing into his soul like a fishhook trying to pull an answer out of him. The power presses against his skull, building up the pressure. Higher and Higher until the wrong words spill out.
But it is all in the background like a distant storm on the horizon.
Sairal shakes his head, “No. No that has not changed. I still don’t remember anything. I am innocent,” he repeats as his mind digs up one of the memories he buried deeper than the roots of his dryad heart reach into the earth. He pushes it back where it belongs while he stares at Aziri, unflinching.
The staring contest between the two continues until the King breaks it up, “Has he sworn on truth stone?”
Aziri nods, “He has. The truth stone didn’t sense any lies but we all know that there are skills that can deceive it.”
I don’t have skills like that and you know it. Maybe they all should look at your skills and see what you have. Aura skills are forbidden by the Courts, and yet I am almost certain that you have one.
The Courts murmur in the background, gossiping with each other.
With glee, Sairal breaks up their frivolous conversations. “My King. I still do not see how this is relevant. All this only shows that I am inconvenienced once again,” he says with a hint of bitter sadness in his voice.
The King tilts his head to the side, “Perhaps. Aziri, what was the punishment for that incident?”
“Banished to guard the outskirts near Zulis for fifty years.”
The King simply nods. Sairal wants to clench his fists, to yell at everyone that this all isn’t fair, that this isn’t how Luxia should be ruled.
He doesn’t. Everything is seen here, from his posture to the thoughts behind his eyes. Everything.
The dryad on the throne continues once again, “Today you are here to elaborate further on the Fortress Beaver incident and to be questioned under the presence of a truth stone. Some claim that you are working with factions outside of Luxia. Others of my Courts say that you need to be punished for letting it all spin out of hand in the first place. As you have been questioned under truth stone before you should know how it works; simply answer the question while touching the stone and all will be right.”
The King raises his left hand and two guards walk into the room through a side door. They carry a large table with a bright stone that shines with all colours set in the middle. It catches the light around it and dissects it into its base components at its core.
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The table is set in front of him. He gently places his hand on the stone, only slightly shivering when the cold truth touches his being.
He can’t help but smile. Truth has always been cold. It can break apart so many things so easily.
“My sire, I know that you keep the throne but may I question him? I don’t doubt your capabilities but it’s just that these are my duties to carry out,” Aziri says.
“You may,” the King replies with the tiniest hint of joy in his voice. The dryad must be happy, not having to do any of the work and just watch it all unfold.
Aziri nods, “Let’s begin then. Were you aware that the Fortress beavers could pose such a threat to Luxia?”
“I was not,” Sairal replies, his tone steady.
Both Courts are perfectly silent for a single moment, all peering at the truth stone. It doesn’t change colour; a truth.
“Did you postpone the extermination on purpose?”
“I did not.”
Everyone’s eyes flick back to the stone as if they are watching an imaginary game of catch.
“Are you working with forces outside of the great forest of Luxia?”
Sairal keeps his face straight, “Objection.”
Aziri’s eyes twitch and the King tilts his head to the side again, “Young Dryad, why do you object?”
“It isn’t against the laws of the forest to work together with outside forces or have contact with them. You only break the law when you are actively trying to harm Luxia in any way, shape, or form.” Seeing a chance to verbally jab the dryad of bloom in his face in front of both Courts, Sairal continues, “I thought all members of the Courts have to be familiar with the rules the forest sets and upholds. Or at least, all the good members fulfil those standards,” Sairal hits Aziri with the verbal jab, making several members of both Courts chuckle.
The dryad of bloom looks as if he got slapped in the face.
“…you are right,” the King of dryads says and throws a disapproving look towards Aziri. “Aziri, please rephrase the question.”
He can almost hear the dryad of bloom’s teeth grind against each other, “Are you in any way, shape, or form working with outside forces to harm Luxia?”
“No.” Sairal forces the smile off his face.
All eyes swing towards the truth stone to see the results. Truth. Always the truth.
Aziri frowns, “With all the incidents that surround you, do you have the Luck stat?”
Sairal rolls his eyes, “Objection. Forcing me to give up personal information.”
“I’ll allow it,” The dryad King says.
Sairal’s eyes narrow the tiniest hint, “No. I do not have the Luck stat.”
Aziri continues, “Do you have any Luck-related skills?”
“Objection. Personal information,” Sairal says again.
The King tries to hide a smirk. He fails miserably. “I’ll allow it.”
Sairal’s face stiffens while he pushes down the anger welling up inside him. He looks down at the truth stone, always shining with every colour light can be separated into.
“…yes.”
Everyone, even the King, looks at the stone searching it for the slightest changes.
Nothing does, it is the truth.
“What is the skill called?”
“Objection. Personal information,” Sairal says for the third time. He looks at the King, not bothering to hide his fury. The strong can do anything. You knew it Sairal. You knew it all along and somehow it still surprises you.
“I’ll allow it this time,” the King says, leaning forwards on his throne.
That’s right. Rules are rigid for the weak while the strong just bend or break them. Sairal gets lost in his thoughts. The anger boils away any sound as he stands there in the middle of the Court.
How could I’ve been so stupid, thinking that only their auras and aura skills are their only weapon here? Everything is just a weapon when used correctly. Even the rules.
“What is the skill called,” Aziri repeats while already gloating.
Sairal lets out a painful, defeated sigh. One of his biggest secrets will now just be thrown out into the Court, “No Fate, Only Luck. Epic rarity,” the walls of the tribunals shake when he speaks out the name of the skill, the world itself reacting to a high-Rarity skill spoken aloud.
The Courts fall into murmurs that grow into yelling a few seconds later. The King raises his hand, demanding silence. When that silence isn’t given he lets his aura leaks out, letting it show that he is growing annoyed, “Aziri, Enough with the skills and stats. I don’t think it is relevant anymore. Please move on to the next topic.”
This time Aziri lets out a sigh, sad that he can’t force Sairal to say out loud all of his skills. He raises his hand and forces a few papers to flutter towards him on command. He shuffles through them for a moment and continues, “Do you have any connections to the Wolf-blooded alligator?”
The question throws Sairal off-tilt for a moment. Why would they care so much about it? Especially asking me in front of both Courts?
“No.”
“Have you seen the Wolf-blooded alligator?”
“I have not.”
“Then who has?”
“A second-lifer I met. The details are in the report I sent.”
No change in the truth stone. Somehow everything is quieter than before. Sairal knew that Second-lifers were uncommon in the forest but not unheard of. This reaction though, Has some of that Zulis ideology seeped into the forest?
“That brings us to our next point on the agenda. Tell us about both second-lifers that you met,” Aziri demands, his aura pressing down on everyone except for the King. Even beings on the tribunals wince as they feel the skill press down on them.
Around Sairal the pressure remains high, almost suffocating. Yet somehow, by some magic, it is only an afterthought like a cloud far up in the sky. He almost wants to thank Scurilor but he knows better than to do so.
Sairal’s eyes rove over the entire crowd up in the stand. They all look so pitiful. Most of them have given up on gaining levels or completing their quests, instead focusing to gain strength through political means. That political strength doesn’t mean anything but they fight over it like dryads that have just been born do over grass.
Finally, his eyes meet Aziri’s again. The dryad of bloom grows confused. It is more than a small joy to him.
“I will not,” Sairal says turning away from Aziri to meet the King’s gaze.
“Why?” Aziri manages to say after a few moments.
“I have been summoned to report on the Fortress beaver incident, not to discuss other affairs.” It is petty of him, but it’s the only way he can protect them and himself. As fickle as the rules might be, restrain them with the rules they are unwilling to break and let their power work against them. Show both Courts that the King doesn’t follow the rules he sets for others and there will be an outrage.
Aziri sputters, “A- As a citizen of Luxia you will tell the Courts and the King about them! They are outside forces and-”
“They are not. Both of them have technically been born in the forest, so they are citizens of Luxia. Because of that, they have to follow the rules set by the Courts and they both do that. In fact, you can say that both of them are exemplary citizens. One has reported the Wolf-blooded alligator to me while the other has been taking down any Cave crawler hives she can get her hands on.”
Aziri’s face goes through a range of emotions before settling in anger. He stands up and points a finger at Sairal, “You! YOU WILL-”
He is interrupted by the voice of the King that booms throughout the room, making the focus fall on him. “Sairal, my Courts have humoured you, but we have gotten off-root. First your punishment.”
His eyes settle onto Sairal, “Your actions relating to the recent events may have been slow but beyond that, there is nothing you can be blamed for. However, I will admit that you often are the centre of strange events. And with the revelation of that skill you have…I can’t let you near the Courts. Your luck can be another’s demise. I will not have that. You are banished from the central forest for a hundred years.”
Mouths fall open at the punishment. It is against the rules, especially with the almost guaranteed chance that he will reach (D) grade sometime in the next decade. But when you make up the rules, who says you can’t also bend them as you wish?
Sairal keeps himself from shrugging and instead tries to act as if it is a punishment he hates. My path doesn’t lie with the Courts anymore. I already found a different one.
The Courts stay silent, still afraid to cause another outburst.
“Now,” the King continues, “Before I will have my guards escort you out, you will tell me about those two.”
In defiance, Sairal lifts up his chin, looking down on all of the Court and even the King himself. What does it matter? Why should he remain neutral to all here if he will be banished for an entire century?
“No,” he states. “They are citizens and are therefore required to follow the rules set by you and the Courts. Maybe you too, should follow your own rules, my King,” Sairal says.
There is silence.
Utter silence as everyone digests the words.
It feels good to be able to fight against a (B) grade like this. But he can’t take it any further. And they all know it.
The King’s face is sour as if he has bitten into an unripe fruit while Sairal remains neutral.
Inwardly Sairal laughs. Now you’ve fallen into my trap. Break your own rules and the Courts will begin to doubt you. Make me your enemy and my skill will target you. What will you do now?
“I will excuse you for your outburst. It’s more than expected since the punishment might be considered unfair. But as you know, second-lifers have lived an entire life before this. And sometimes they still hold certain values that might be harmful to the forest,” The King explains. “So, you will tell me about them. Tell me about how stable they are, which species they are, and to which of the Greater races they belonged.”
The air grows heavy, almost unbearable. The plants that line the wall quiver and shake in fear. The pressure on Sairal grows, fading out of the background and itching against his skin.
He grits his teeth and shakes his head. He wants to refuse, yell at the King and how childish he is but the words don’t make it past his grating teeth.
The pressure grows denser. Plants try to uproot themselves and run away. Out of the corner of his eye, Sairal sees a few beings slip out of the room.
Sweat gathers on his forehead as he resists. The pill he used to weather it all has been pushed to its limits and is wearing off.
Something snaps in him and the words begin to roll out, “The first second-lifer is a Cobalt coleptera, although, that must have changed since I haven’t seen her for a few weeks. In her previous life, she was a Malruk. I don’t know more about her past but most here know the Malruk in their home universe are divided and torn, barely able to travel between their planets anymore.”
He bites on his tongue to keep it from spilling secrets. His heart pounds painfully in his chest with defiance. His lungs still take in big gulps of air as they constantly get pushed out of his lungs by the King’s aura.
The acidic taste of bile blends with the blood as he is forced to tell them about Green. I can’t tell them everything. They will kill him if they find out he was a human, afraid that he might join Zulis. I need a lie, just a tiny, little lie.
Sairal takes in a deep gulp of air, refusing with every fibre of his being. He pulls on all of his skills, “The other…the other is a Mandrake of nature, (H) grade,” Sairal’s knees buckle under him and he collapses to the ground, his shoulders heaving.
“To which of the Greater races did he belong before becoming a mandrake?” The King asks, Still keeping up his aura.
Air is forced out of his lungs, pressing him to speak, “He-he belonged to the Seva.”
As he answers the final question of the King, his aura gets pulled away, almost as if it all was a dream.
“See?” the King asks. “Isn’t it just better to answer sometimes?”
Sairal shudders, “Yes, my King. Please forgive me.”
“All shall be forgiven. I am a kind ruler after all,” he says smugly, looking over the remains of the Courts that fiercely nod at him.
The King opens his mouth to speak but two dryads burst in from the side door where the dryads with the truth stone came from. Everyone whirls around to face the pair. Before anything can be said by the Courts, Aziri, or the King, The dryad speaks up, “My King! The Zulis army has been detected and they are on the move!”
The King turns towards them with a pleased smile, “Most excellent. Is Hdryanna close to King’s rise? Yes? Good summon her immediately. We need a visual.”
Thirty seconds later a dryad that seems to be made out of gold bursts into the room. The Courts move into action as dozens of skills are spoken by dozens of members all working together.
A tree rises from the middle of the room, leaves in dozens of shades like the different like the skills that were spoken to create it.
A new skill is spoken out loud, making the walls tremble with anticipation.
The tree’s trunk splits in the middle and forms a large hollow. However, what is revealed isn’t the other side of the room but an aerial view of a certain part of the outskirts.
Hundreds of humans burst out of a clump of dense forest, following a small figure.
The King motions to the dryad of gold that entered the room, “Can you zoom in on that? I want to see what they are chasing.”
She follows the King’s command and a humanoid figure appears. He has brown, bark-like skin, two beady eyes, and a small crown of leaves that sits on his head.
The King turns towards Sairal, “That mandrake…”
Sairal nods, “…Yes. That’s him.”
Green, just what did you do?