Ten
Myst City
The massive stone doors of the courtroom chambers swung ajar with a mighty back draft.
The chamber was immense, the ceiling almost too high up to see. Light poured in through the stained-glass windows high above, illuminating the polished marble floors and colorful myth tapestries hanging on the walls.
The crowd stood up in the long ebony benches as the royal guards shoved Umbra forward.
Umbra could see the shining steel swords hanging under the guard's white tabards. He considered stealing one and fight his way out, but Marin had made him promise to settle things peacefully, leaving him in the custody of the guards to briefly prepare for the trial.
He still couldn't believe Marin was alive after all this time and that she was now a Golden Sun Knight.
He could feel the piercing eyes of his bailiffs from under their ornate helmets and knew they were itching for an excuse to kill him. The Tabernacle had draconic policies when maleficae were involved.
Marin had taken a huge chance forcing Umbra's trial to be brought before the grand jury. Normally an informal trial in front of a small group with meager evidence was enough to execute maleficae in most places.
Umbra was forced into a small iron cage in the center of the room facing a towering row of podiums draped with Myst City's flag- a gold sun emblem affixed a white field. Seated at the top were the frowning faces of the aged judges, sour with matching white beards and gray monks' habits.
While Umbra was making enemies and living in the wilds, Marin was winning over the city nobles with her magical talents and lovable personality. In less than three years in Myst City, Marin had gained a lot of renown.
She was the youngest member to ever be accepted into the city's sacred order- The Golden Sun; her powers far surpassed the average Sorcerer.
Astralode, the ageless chronicler, and master wizard of Myst City had personally trained Marin and insisted The Golden Sun recruit her talents.
Marin stood by Umbra's side outside the cage. Her blonde hair was tied back and she wore fine silk crimson robes and a small silvery headband in her hair- gifted to her by the noble Marcel family, which had taken a liking to her.
"Don't worry, Umbra. I won't let you down," she promised in a soft voice.
Gladius sat in the front row of the jury pews. He hadn't taken his eyes off Umbra since he entered the chamber. He wore his white monk's habit with his hood down. In the well-lit room, his battle scarred face was visible.
Beside Gladius sat Fletcher, wearing the same leather jerkin he had slept in the night before, his eyes were squinted with his hand on his goatee; nursing a hangover.
Marin paced across the courtroom floor going over her opening statement in her head one last time. She was no lawyer and had only seen a few mundane trials; no councilor would defend Umbra so she had taken up the role herself.
But now Umbra's life was on the line, the man she never stopped loving since as far back as she could remember. The same man she had mourned for 3 years.
"Esteemed councilors, good people of the court, today I speak on behalf of a good man, a man that saved my life," Marin began.
There was little reaction in the chamber.
She stuttered nervously. "Many of you fear the arcane, magic and its practitioners. But I tell you, we owe a lot to sorcerers. Where would we be without the healing arts, or the great knowledge of history and tradition to which we are so accustomed?"
She took a deep breath and looked up to the judges. "Just like an apothecary can make poisons and kill innocents, a sorcerer can harm if they are so sadistically inclined."
"What about the Night of Flames?!" a juror called out.
Marin froze in her tracks; the comment struck a raw nerve in her. "Umbra didn't cause that atrocity and neither did I!" she snapped. "We were victims just like all the other refugees!"
Umbra's eyes wandered through the audience. Nobody seemed convinced by Marin's pleas, especially the judges. His eyes met with a familiar face, under a loose hood, the Crimson Hunter watched the trial, her arms crossed with a satisfied smirk, ready to claim his corpse to turn over to a client for a bounty.
Why is she here? Umbra had yet another reason to panic.
"Our best healers are those with magical affinity, our best scholars, and our most devout priests! We'd be lost without them!" Marin continued to plead.
Gladius glare had softened, Fletcher looked equally concerned.
They could see how important this case was to Marin. It wasn't just about a rogue maleficus; it was about the discrimination faced by magic-users everywhere.
Gladius knew many well-intentioned sorcerers, the healers who volunteered in the slums and the most caring abbots knew magic; but the Purist religion also contradicted this, promoting hatred of dark sorcery.
Has prejudice blinded me so much?
Fletcher placed a hand on Gladius' shoulder; he could tell what his comrade was thinking by the look on his face. He nodded with approval.
"Move to release him into custody of The Tabernacle for inquisition!" Gladius cried out stunning the crowd into silence.
He had just proposed to have Umbra detained by the Purist cathedral and cross-examined by The Inquisitors, a suborder of holy interrogators.
"They will be harsher," Fletcher whispered, wincing.
Gladius eyes met Marin's and they exchanged a look of trust. She could tell he had a plan.
"We plead guilty under custody of The Inquisitors!" Marin agreed.
Inquisitors? Umbra had heard stories that they were religious zealots who tortured confessions out of suspects and despised maleficae.
The judges chatted among themselves, satisfied that a harsher punishment would come from The Inquisitors.
They banged the gavel, the noise echoed through the hall.
"To a holding cell until released into custody of The Tabernacle!"