Chapter 7: Extra: Lorry Thierrson

I was told I was lucky to even have a trial. Somehow, I doubted that. Mostly because I knew better than to expect much mercy from a people that pillaged most of the northern continent. They dragged me into their joke of a courtroom and forced me to my knees before a bloodstained pedestal. In front of me were three raised desks, the middle of which was the highest. Looming twenty feet above sat the judge in his flowing white robes, holding an executioner’s sword aloft. To his sides were two younger men, one glaring at me as the other looked down on me serenely. A massive oil painting dominated the wall behind them, of a muscular man with curly, blond hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to follow me as I walked into the room. In his hands he held an hourglass and a sword much like the judge’s. At my sides were a bunch of people clamoring and shouting at me. Their crazed eyes burned with hatred as spittle flew from their gums, calling me every name in the book, and some they’d probably invented. I focused on tuning them out, instead meeting the judge’s gaze. There was nothing but a smug sense of superiority in his eyes. Still, it was better than looking at the pile of heads at the bottom of his raised desk, familiar faces with expressions of rage and sadness cut short in their final moments.

         The judge held up his sword and the people at my sides quieted down.

         “I am judge Quintus Arkourum. We stand here to judge this individual of the following crimes: conspiracy, conspiracy to murder, smuggling, imprisonment, and defying hierarchy. To my right is prosecutor Herig Jallim and to my left is defendant Pall Oubi. Does the guilty party wish to deny these charges?”

         “If he is smart,” Herig snarled, “He will accept the charges and the quick execution. Denying the charges increases the severity of the sentence.”

         “It’s a good thing I’m not smart.” I quipped, causing those in the courtroom to rumble in a mix of discontent and badly disguised glee.

         “What charge would you like to deny?” Arkourum asked.

         “Let’s start with smuggling. I wasn’t a part of the ship’s crew.” I said, avoiding looking at the glassy eyes of the captain no more than a few meters in front of me.

         “You were on the ship.” Herig smirked.

         “Yeah, as a slave. Not smuggler.”

         “So you admit it.” Herig pushed. “By allowing yourself to be captured and sold, you were party to the transaction.”

         “That’s ridiculous.” I growled.

         “Sustained.” Arkourum noted. “You are weak, physically and mentally. You were made a slave and rather dying like a man, you allowed yourself to become an accomplice to the smuggling. Since you denied the claim, you are now guilty of an additional count of smuggling and perjury.”

         “How is that fair?” I wanted to slam my heads on the bloodied pedestal, but they were chained together. “And aren’t you supposed to be defending me?” I asked Pall, but he just shrugged.

         “To a southern savage like you, our advanced concepts of justice may seem confusing, but every Bergin citizen knows of the effectiveness of our judicial system. You are now guilty of one more count of defying hierarchy.” The judge smirked as the people around me guffawed.

         “Fine.” I grit my teeth and thought through what I could do. As it turns out, barely anything but delay, delay, delay. “What about imprisonment?”

         “We have witness testimony from a valued Bergin citizen and other guilty parties that you were among those who had imprisoned others.”

         “You mean the slave breakout? Wouldn’t that count as an attempt to prevent the smuggling?”

         “Judge Arkourum, I’d like to accept the guilty party’s admission of guilt for his first count of defying hierarchy.” Herig, the slimy git, proclaimed.

         “Accepted. As for your question, you have already been determined guilty on two counts of smuggling, and thus cannot be rectified. Do you admit that you were accomplice in imprisoning the captain of the ship and his crew in their quarters?”

         “The captain whose head is lying right there, executed as a criminal?” I pointed at the head of the man who’d once tried to sail us to safety.

         “Correct.”

         “Wouldn’t that count as trying to arrest a criminal?” I asked.

         “You were not authorized to arrest a criminal. Only Bergin citizens have that authority.” Arkourum clarified.

         “I see.” I did not. “What about the conspiracy charges?”

         Defendant Pall spoke.

         “I can help you get the conspiracy charges dropped.” He smiled. “You just need to help us find out what happened. There have been various claims, some even heretical in nature, and we need to be sure. Should you cooperate, we can drop the torture sentencing and maybe even move from execution to life in servitude.”

         The icy lump in my throat had started to fade as a gleam of hope shone. Here it was. My chance.

         “What do you need to know?”

         “You can start by telling the court of the events that occurred before the shipwreck.”

         “There was a mutiny, and we locked the crew in their quarters as we took over the ship. I was questioning them, when the next thing I knew I was being held at knifepoint by someone as monsters began assaulting the ship. It was confusing. There was a creature that reached into the sky where the Edge of the World was supposed to be.” I blinked a few times. My mouth was bloody and face was sore. The people around me looked at me with curious glances. Did they have spells that hurt me without me noticing? “There was screaming. Blood and rot hung thicker in the air than the smell of seawater and calidaerum. I broke out and helped fight the dem—monsters until things went horribly wrong. It’s a blur after that.”

         “Describe them.”

“They looked like animals or people but…wrong. There was a wolf with three pairs of legs and too many joints…its yellow eyes were hungry, mad. Teeth were constantly growing out of its mouth. There was a something that looked like a lion wearing a goat body as a coat, and it screamed so much like a child.” I shivered. “Then there was either a massive legless centipede or a snake with a buggy body. It had thorns and claws coming out of every bit of it, and it left a trail of slick blood wherever it went.” I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I opened them, it was as if the guard that pushed me in the courtroom teleported in front of me. My nose felt broken. I winced and set it before finishing my story. “Finally, there was something like a human. But its skin was too pale. When I first saw it, I thought it was a silhouette, but then mouths opened all over its body. The most terrifying part of it all, thinking back on it now, is that when it first came aboard, it stumbled around like a baby beginning to walk. But within a minute it moved like someone who’d been fighting for years.” The silence filled the courtroom before the judge laughed.

“It seems the Navy has a fantastic illusionist to be able to disarm you so quickly. And you all shared a similar experience!” The tension left the room as the peanut gallery chuckled among themselves. But the cheer never met the judge’s eyes. He knew I wasn’t lying, but he hid it for some reason. Looking around the room, I witnessed citizens brought to watch Bergin justice prevail grow comfortable and lax. I’d seen the look in their eyes. The expression of blissful superiority. Even if the judge was wrong, and it was real, the demons and Yannis were not their problem. Better yet, they felt as if I deserved that. I pushed down the spark of rage in my heart, letting the injustice, the hatred, the indignity simmer away.

“Tell us of any unique individuals on board.” Arkourum interjected. My blood ran cold again. They wanted to know about Azmond. I know I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even I could tell that my chances of getting out of this court alive were slim to none. I needed to lean into the image they’d made of me, no matter how much it pissed me off.

         “My Ma always told me every individual was unique.” I said.

         The judge rolled his eyes.

         “I am not interested in the delusions of barbarians. I am asking if there were notable people aboard.”

         “There was Spellmaster Wollow.” Pall began writing and motioned me to continue. “I’m not sure why he was there. He could have easily gotten out.” Pall nodded, accepting my lie easily. “He is the one who came up with the plan and got us out of the chains.,” I continued. “We saw him slump down and someone checked him to confirm he was dead.”

         “Really?” When has blaming a dead guy ever gone wrong? “Did you check him yourself? Are you sure he’s dead?” I shrugged, and Pall’s quill continued to scribble on paper. “We have had witnesses describe two more notable figures. Can you confirm?”

         The images of Rael, chaotic and confrontational, and Azmond, docile and kind, came to mind. Struggling not to show anything, my gaze found the lifeless eyes of others I shared the cursed journey with. Not everyone was there; not everyone was captured. Among the beheaded, those I recognized the most were people I shared the company of below deck. We’d shared food, water, and an awful shit bucket. Frozen in death were grins of delight of comfort. They’d spited Bergin to the last moment.

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         “I can only really think of one.” The obvious one, and easiest to find. “He went by Azmond. Barely a kid, his head was encased in an iron mask.”

         “Are you sure?” Herig leaned forwards.

         “Aside from Spellmaster Wollow, he was the most out of place.” I answered, trying desperately to keep the tremble out of my voice.

         “He didn’t confirm or deny the existence of the Scaled.” Herig huffed. “I suggest adding a count of perjury.”

         “I object.” Pall said casually. “Most eyewitnesses have confirmed that the Scaled was made to wear mask and clothes to cover his heretical features. There is even an account from a cooperator,” He shuffled some papers around, “A Heph Cook, detailing his orders to make the mask. Most importantly, his testimony matches closely with our Bergin witness. He denied the claims that a few of the guilty parties have made about one Rael, stating instead that she’d shown interest in serving him and was forced to work with the others.”

         I slammed my jaw shut like a vice. Apparently, the brat was their main witness, and he was thinking with his loins. He really is just like the man who’d tried to violate my sister. Of course Caldon would think that, and work to protect the innocence of the woman he wanted to rut. I felt my stomach twist in to knots as cold sweat gathered on my back, mixing with the aching burning in my heart. On one hand, Caldon had no right. On the other, he did protect Rael from the fate that followed most meta in Galladia. I’d once seen Gevaudan wargs tear apart a village from far away. It was not pretty. To think about their creation sickened me to my core. I may not like Rael too much, but I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone.

         “Nevertheless, he could not properly confirm the existence of the Scaled.” Herig pointed at me and scowled. “I suggest we move on and show the world how we deal with those that dare oppose the sanctity of the Bergin Empire. I suggest fifty lashes, branding of laws, a salt drip, and a summary execution while he is still awake!”

         The people in the court cheered as my heart sank.

         “You go too far, Herig!” Pall slammed a fist on his desk. And for a moment, there was a glimmer of hope. “He’s given us all he can. I suggest a simple execution, like all the others who supported the claims of our citizen but neglected to help him.”

         It was like my insides had shriveled and frozen over. Those bastards never intended on letting me live. The clamor faded away for the first time as the realization set in. It disappeared a second time, for real, when the judge raised his sword above his head.

         “I declare the sentence of the guilty party…”

         “Enough!” A familiar voice interrupted, booming through the room. “What are you doing to my house slave?”

         We all turned to see who had thrown the doors open. My eyes widened.

         “Who are you to interrupt our judicial process?!” Arkourum roared, all his poise and dignity evaporated as the woman in a Bergin dress glimmering with jewels strode in. “Leave at once, if you do not want to suffer the same fate as the guilty party!”

         The woman stopped and frowned.

         “I apologize Judge Arkourum. I’ll be sure to tell my father about your statement. I’m sure Minister Kerr would…appreciate it.” She turned around on her feet and began to stomp away, heels clicking in echoes in the mollified courtroom. Arkourum’s jaw dropped as the blood drained from his face.

         “Wait...Wait!” he cried, climbing hastily down his ridiculously high desk. “Minister Kerr, from the Ministry of Finance?” The woman was still walking towards the exit as Arkourum chased after her, barefoot. “Making you Layla Kerr, the only daughter of Arthur Kerr?”

         “Why, yes.” I heard her speak through pursed lips. She did not stop her march. “Is there any other?”

         “No, no, no!” Arkourum reached her, a sheen of sweat on his face as he spoke to her. She continued walking, even as face her and walked backwards. “Is it really necessary for your father to know of a tiny slip of the tongue? Over a mere slave who may not even be your house slave?”

         She stopped and turned her head to stare him dead in the eyes.

         “Are you saying…I’m wrong?” She said icily.

         “Not at all!” Arkourum waved his hands around. “Just—”

         “For your information,” the woman hissed, “I sent my manservant, Lorry Thierrson, to buy me some dresses from Gole Silkmaster in Nize, whose works are very popular in the most renown ballrooms of the Empire. Unfortunately, he was caught up in this…mess.”

         “But why was he on a smuggler’s ship?”

         “Do expect a slave to take a ship as a free man, especially to a country that refuses our rightful sovereignty over them?”

         “Well, no, but—”

         “Or do you expect the daughter of one of the most important men in the Empire to leave the safety of her home to be potentially taken hostage?”

         “Not at all! But—”

         “But nothing! Lorry is loyal and discrete.” She walked up to him, looking up into the judge’s sweating face and prodded a finger into his chest. “Had you done your job, I would have Lorry and my dresses, which were among the cargo of the downed airship. Now I have wasted millions in promissory notes, and nothing to show for it.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t fault you…we both know there are extenuating circumstances.” She snapped her fingers and motioned towards me. “Come Lorry, we best get you home and washed up before your condition hinders you again.”

         I got up, heart hammering in my chest. All these mood swings were going to do something to my heart, and I didn’t want to burst out in laughter yet.

         “His condition?” Arkourum asked.

         “Yes, no doubt you’ve noticed him falling asleep and waking as if nothing had happened?” She pointedly looked at my face.

         “I was not aware…we thought he was being uncooperative.”

         “Clearly.” She rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you should enlighten yourself. Nevertheless, I will make it clear to my father there has been a miscommunication somewhere; you don’t seem nearly as incompetent as I’d been lead to believe.”

         “Th-thank you, Miss Kerr!” The judge bowed.

         I walked out the courthouse, officially a slave again. Unofficially, though…

         “How did you get rid of the stutter?” I whispered. “And become a Bergin noble? And get away with that load of bullshit?”

         “Clear Speech is a spell I’ve had for a long time.” Mila beamed. “As for the rest of it…I was only technically arrested for gambling debts. Not very easy to arrest a con artist. And as it turns out, Bergin is the perfect place for a conwoman to thrive.”

         As we entered the carriage Mila prepared, I thanked the Dragons and the stars above for my incredible luck. Though, I was riding with a professional con artist, so maybe it wasn’t luck.

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