"The accused may speak!" Thus declared the High Justiciar of the Otarian High Jury, as silence veiled the entire courtroom.
In the middle rested a man who more resembled a giant, with a height way above the limits of the rostrum he stood upon. Both his giant hands, equal in size to an adult skull, were shackled together. He sat on an iron stool with short thick chains binding his movement to the ground. A railing surrounded the platform he was on, giving the impression that they had used a birdcage to trap a bear. Four Otarian enforcers, each armed with long muskets, guarded each corner. His body was as wide as a gorilla, overlaying the entire stool, making him appear as though he was floating in mid-air. His discomfort was evident from his face, under his hairy and sharp brows, which everyone in the courtroom found unsightly to gaze upon.
The convict spoke, breaking the veil of silence. “First, I would like to thank you, your honor, and the respectable jury for giving me a chance to defend myself. I understand that most are intrigued by my appearance, judging me by my towering height, monstrous body, and of course, my hideous face. Let me assure you, your honor, and the most respectable jury, I didn't choose to be born this way. ”
The Justiciar stood tall on the elongated station in front of the convict, while twelve jurors formed a half-moon around the prosecutor, each wearing different traditional clothes representing their respectable houses. The Justiciar himself wore black robes with purple garments around the edges, and he held a golden hammer in his hand, intensifying his powerful image. His robes were gilded with the twelve insignias of noble Otarian Houses, verifying his authority. His long triangular black beret had a silver-lined scale embroidery in front, glinting with each passing ray of sunshine from the skylights covering the building's great domed roof. The art on the dome was another spectacle to see, with paintings depicting legends from every noble house, drawn with such precision that they looked almost real, fooling anyone not paying close attention under dim light.
The convict continued to speak, "If I may, I would like to start from the beginning. I can't imagine how much effort your honor put into becoming a man of his caliber, how many books he read, how many countless hours he spent without proper sleep under a wavering oil lamp. A life I longed for, a life of pursuing limitless knowledge, discovering worlds of wonders within the pages of a book. Reading the words of the most intelligent men and women, those who lived hundreds of years ago, and learning their wisdom as if they spoke them today. Perhaps it was fate that brought us here, to this moment. Me, as a murderer, and you, your honor, as the judge of my sins. But still, I can't shake the feeling, what would have happened if I was born in a different place, maybe to a loving family with a more human-like body? Would I still be judged by my appearance? Would I have been able to become a man like you, your honor? You and I are the same, your honor. We both did what we had to do to survive. Despite what most people might think here, I am from a noble house."
"NONSENSE!" yelled the High Justiciar rigorously, with mutterings of agreement from the jury.
"It is true, your honor. I am a member and direct heir to a noble house of Innarian Tradehold."
"And what is the name of this house?" asked the High Justiciar with doubt in his eyes.
"Even though I was rejected and exiled by my family, I don't seek to defile my family name that was never there for me, your honor."
"Understandable! You may continue with your defense," said the High Justiciar, while trying to hide his fearful visage from the attendees.
"I do think myself to be a love and passion child, born to a very rich and beautiful noble Innarian couple. I've heard it was an arranged marriage between two powerful houses, but both my parents fell in love at first sight. Their marriage was followed by a grandiose wedding, attended by almost every noble house, rich merchants, and even some members of the Supreme Council itself. In a short time, the fruit of their love and passion had a form, but not in the form they expected. Only two weeks after their marriage, my father announced the good news. Although it had only been two weeks, my mother's belly was already resembling that of a woman six months into pregnancy. Despite the doctors' continued suggestions to remove the baby, my mother refused, and for the love of his gorgeous wife, my father had no choice but to comply. At the seventh month, with my mother's belly thrice its normal size, I tore open her womb, which was no longer enough to contain the monstrosity inside.
"Your honor, I started my life as a murderer, beginning with the one who was most important to me. Despite the doctors' relentless efforts, my mother perished, her blood and innards covering the entire bed. My father never recovered from the tragedy, always blaming the giant monster that is me for taking his wife. To cope with the pain, the once-loving family man became a very strict businessman, valuing his work above all else. He never spoke of the misfortune and forbade all maids from speaking of it again.
"In my entire childhood, I was locked inside our manor, with no friends, no one to talk to. Even the maids refused to interact with the monster. Except for a few teachers from time to time, who didn't fear the monster that resided within. That's how I learned to read and write, your honor. Soon, books became my most important companions in my little accursed world."
"Enough!" yelled the Justiciar furiously, pointing his golden hammer towards the convict after three loud strikes to his desk. "We did not gather here to hear your life story. You are not being judged for your physical qualities in this courtroom. You are being accused of brutally slaughtering thirteen Otarian enforcers during a counterinsurgency mission against Shu-baht rebels in Torgah village."
"No, your honor, I am being judged by my physical qualities, like I have been my entire life. I have already given my testimony; every respectable jury member should have already read it by now, including the high honor himself. I have nothing to add to my testimony. According to the Otarian Justice of High Laws, Article Number Fourteen, the court must hear the convict's plea to the end, with the attendance of no more than twelve and no fewer than seven jury members."
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"High honor, if I may add something," said a middle-aged woman wearing blue and black robes with an insignia of a crow on her beret. "As a respected representative of the Kingdom of Shu-Baht, we are strictly against calling those traitorous radical scum Shu-baht rebels. They are not part of us, and our latest reports have shown that most of them are of Janarian origin."
"Liar!" yelled a rather young-looking member of the jury, suddenly startling the entire courtroom. His mixed black and light blue robe swung as he abruptly stood. His beret bore the insignia of a glacier wolf, the symbol of the ancient Janar Clan of the Frozen Mountains.
"You and your arrogant king should know that we are aware of your insidious plans to make a claim in our lands, you sly bastards," shouted the young man.
"How dare you speak of our great king in such a manner, you blasphemous traitors?" retorted a much older jury member, clenching his fists with a furious tone filled with inner rage.
"Order!" yelled the High Justiciar following three thunderous strikes of his golden hammer. "This is no place for infighting between houses. Your puny disputes shall only be resolved in the grand assembly of the great houses of Otaria. Until then, speak no more of this nonsense."
"You may continue with your defense, beast," stated the High Justiciar calmly, ignoring the obvious tension in the room.
"Thank you, your honor. At the age of fourteen, I was already looking twice my age. Despite doing little to no physical activities, I was as strong as the strongest athlete in all of Innaria. Like every teenager my age, I decided to forge a story of my own, after reading the adventures of so many great women and men. I was confident in my knowledge of the outside world due to my extensive reading. Now, come to think of it, how wrong I was.
"So, I started planning, and soon realized there was no easy way out from our manor, at least not for someone of my size. Our manor was large and heavily guarded at all hours of the day. Fortunately, since Innaria was a place of many great buildings, most lacked a proper courtyard, and ours was no exception. Still, the manor was built like a fortress, with the main materials being stone and huge wooden beams for the roof, and the entirety of it was surrounded by a two-man-length thick wall, capable of withstanding a couple of volleys from a small cannon. But the walls were too close to the windows, making them very easy to reach. Every window was grated with reinforced metals, resembling a prison more than an accommodation. Since the main gate had a guard post, I had no chance of walking out there. After some trial and error, I realized I didn't need any kind of prying tool; I could just bend the grates with my bare hands. Fortunately, very thick and strong-looking vines covered the entire wall my window was facing. The vines went all the way to the top, and I was pretty confident it was the same case on the other side of the wall as well. Then I realized that my room was situated in the back of our manor, since the vines were allowed to grow to this size. Another virtue of my father; he didn't want anyone to see me, not even for a glimpse out of the window. But on the positive side, this meant I would be walking off to a less crowded street. The only inconvenience was climbing two stories with vines that I wasn't sure could carry my weight.
"I was going to have a hard time staying undetected in the streets, so I needed a story and compatible clothing in case of getting caught. It took me three weeks to persuade one of my teachers to buy me a set of clothes resembling a priest's robes. I had to lie about role-playing a priest from a story I was working on, and needing to fully immerse myself in the character to produce a more believable story. I paid a total of four crows for one set of robes, which equaled six months of my allowance, which I find quite outrageous today.
"The plan was set. I was going to wait until midnight and take a small detour to the corridor connecting to the main hall, take the old cutlass that was hanging on the wall—I believed every hero had some sort of weapon of their own—then go back to the same corridor and take the stairs to the cellar at the end, stock up on water and dry food with a long shelf life, and return to my room to double-check everything I intended to bring. I would then wait for one hour to be sure no one had heard me and uninstall the grates I had broken previously. I would jump to the garden, check my surroundings, and start climbing the wall.
"Everything went perfectly, and soon I was on top of the wall. The sight was unlike anything I had seen before. Thousands of torches illuminated the entire city, with the horizon revealing massive walls surrounding the city's entire circumference. Every glimpse of the scenery revealed another spectacle to witness: giant towers piercing the sky, huge arches shrinking everyone walking on them to the size of ants, and megastructures made from white marble slabs shining with each wave of countless torches. After watching in awe for some time, I realized our manor was situated on the western side of the city, built on a hill overlooking the entire city. I had to stop my urge to explore every wonder of the city and set my destination to the west, hoping to find an entrance. That day, I made a little promise to myself: one day, I will explore every corner of this magnificent city.
"While I was distracted by the sight, a sudden noise woke me from my trance. I heard footsteps, coming from not far away, and they were getting closer by the second. I tried to duck out of reflex, but to my dismay, I completely forgot about the vines that were gripping my feet, causing me to tumble and ultimately fall. Luckily, I wasn't hurt, but unfortunately, not far away from me stood a man. He held a slim woman in his right arm and a bright lantern in his left. Soon, the woman was replaced by a really sharp-looking cutlass. The man started walking towards me, pointing his cutlass, wary of a giant stranger. I was in utter shock, never planning on getting caught so early in my adventure, with drops of tears sliding along my cheeks hidden beneath the hood of my priest's gown.
"'Who are you? Identify yourself!' yelled the man, while the bright lantern lit the sharp blade that kept my eyes locked. 'Return to the carriage!' the man told the woman, whom I assumed was his wife.
"With the light of the endless gushing waves of his lantern, I was able to take a good look at the man. He was probably in his early forties, with a clean face and no signs of facial hair, perfectly combed medium-length hair, and a well-fitted combination of a white shirt and black trousers, with dark leather boots reaching halfway to his knees.
"He was no ordinary man, at least not to me. It was my father himself. The man took one good look at me, with clear disdain on his face. He sheathed his cutlass and grabbed one of the pouches bound to his belt. I heard the rattles of the coins when the pouch hit the ground in front of me.
"The woman yelled from behind, 'Who is it, darling?' Without responding to the woman's question, the man turned his back and walked back into the darkness.
"I came to my senses soon after and decided to take the pouch, not because of the currency's handiness in my journeys, but because it was the only thing that was given to me personally by my father. It wasn't given out of kindness; I was sure of that. I argue it was his way of atoning for his sins to his late wife, so he could say I did everything I could in the end. What would my mother think if she saw him treating his son like a ghost in his entire life, and now like a beggar?
"Wiping my tears every minute of my sprint, I finally reached the western gate. As planned, no one questioned me on the way out. The magical words of 'It is God's work' gave me quick passage to the Midcast.
End of Part One