The Judgment Rests (closed)

[Cards of Fate]

“Order, order in the court!”

A short, fat man stood in the judge’s chair angrily waving a gavel as he tried to get everyone in the courtroom to sit down. His emerald eyes commanded the respect of everyone in the room, and soon the small crowd had settled down. Soon silence filled the room, and the judge spoke once more.

“Bring in the accused.”

The wide oaken double doors that led into the building creaked open and two men manhandled Vincent Cain down the center aisle of the court. His usual purple robes were tattered and dirty, his blonde hair was greasy and disheveled. His tanned skin was caked in dirt, mud, and blood and bruises. Despite his degraded state, the scholar’s sapphire eyes shone with defiance, and scanned the room looking to assess the situation.

The courthouse was small, one room with only about forty or so chairs for spectators to sit in. To the left of the judge sat seven people, four men, three women. To the right of the judge, three man sat at a desk glaring daggers at Vincent. Between the judge and the jury, was a simple desk with no one sat at it. The guards slammed the scholar onto a bench before the judge and cuffed both of his hands to his seat. There would be no funny business during court. The judge looked down at the mess of a man before him and scowled..

“Who beat him?”

There was a deathly silence in the room as the Judge rose to his feet. The scholar had not been nearly as bruised in his past appearance, and such cruelty would not stand in his court. When it was clear nobody would answer him, the judge sighed.

“Where is Mr. Cain’s lawyer?” he asked. His emerald eyes scanned the room for a moment. “He has the right to a fair trial, regardless of his crimes. He has the right not to be abused, but we’ve failed him there. So tell me, where the FUCK,” The judge slammed his gavel on the pulpit before him, “IS THE MAN’S LAWYER.” After a moment of shocked silence the prosecution rose from their seat.

“Your honor, there’s not a lawyer within three cities who would touch this man’s case with a ten foot pole. We were unable to find council for the accused. We put in a request to the capital for a state lawyer, but we have yet to hear back.” The man sat down and crossed one leg over the other. The crowd murmured slightly, of course such a heinous criminal would have a hard time finding help.

“Mr. Cain, you have a right to an attorney.” The judge rumbled as he sat down. “Do you wish to forfeit that right and represent yourself in the court of law?”

The scholar glanced from the prosecution, to the jury, to the judge. “Well your honor, first I would like to know what exactly I’m being accused of.” The entire court burst into a rage as people flew to their feet and began to screaming at the belligerent scholar.

“QUIET!” The judge thundered, silencing the crowd. It took a moment, but the beet faced judge managed to settle the courtroom with several bangs of his gavel.

“Mr. Cain, you stand accused of attempting to steal our sacred relic, the shield of the Aegis.” The judge declared. “How do you plead?” The scholar adjusted in his seat and looked the judge in the eye.

“To be fair your honor, I had no idea it was sacred.”

[Nicolette]

The heavy double doors were thrown open with a resounding thud. As the noise boomed in the small space, the congregation turned as one. Forty pairs of eyes rested on one lone figure, whose delicate appearance stood in stark contrast to her violent entrance. Layers of soft, cotton fabric, modest in their design and understated in their gray color, swirled about her feet as she took her first steps forwards. It was a high-necked, long-sleeved dress, leaving everything to the imagination, and no question as to her role in this particular production. The skirts whispered, the sound mimicking the hushed gasps of surprise that rippled through the onlookers, and her small heels clicked smartly as she approached the front of the room.

There, high atop his podium, the stubby man gaped down at the newcomer. He waited until she came to rest before him, and then addressed her with a simple, breathless word. "Letty?"

"Nicolette, please." She corrected him with the gentle ease of a parent scolding a child. Her tone was soft, yet steady, and though her slight smile was warm, her entire figure demanded respect.

The comment seemed to break the spell, and shatter the stillness that had befallen the room. "Nicolette, yes, of course," Judge Matao stammered. "I apologize." She lifted a gloved hand to assure him that there had been no insult, and he gave a shallow nod. Then, his confidence returning, he asked what everyone in the room was thinking. "Might I ask why you are here, miss Nicolette?"

"You may," she replied, but answered before he had the opportunity to. "I am here to represent Mister Cain."

There was a beat of silence, and then the room burst to life. Cries of concern, shouts of surprise, and questions of all type were barked in her direction. Patiently, the young lady waited until the judge could return the rambunctious room to order.

"Miss Nicolette," Mister Matao began again, "did you say that you were assigned to represent the thief?"

"Volunteered, and the accused, yes." There was no bite to her tone, or waver in her voice, but her golden eyes flashed. It was a slight response, but it was not lost on the man, whose chapped lips pursed as he gazed down his nose at her.

"Very well," he finally replied on a heavy sigh. When he spoke again, he addressed Vincent. "Are you satisfied with Miss Morgan as your council?"

[Cards of Fate]

Vince could hear the trumpets blaring as the cavalry came to his rescue in the form of a woman dressed like a schoolteacher. He observed the exchange, his sapphire eyes twinkling just a little bit with joy. While he was a capable scholar and adventurer, he was unfamiliar with this lands and its legal customs. He would have been walking blindly through a minefield. He waited for a moment, contemplating the iron cuffs that chaffed at his wrist. He was in the middle of musing how easy it would be to snap them when the judge addressed him once more.

“Say again?” he asked cocking his head to the side. “I was a little lost in thought for a moment.”

The judge glared at the scholar and let out a deep sigh. “I asked if you were satisfied with Miss Morgan as your council.” The scholar shot a glance at the woman and raised an eyebrow. She seemed to be someone with quite the reputation, so why would she stoop so low to help him out? He chewed his lip for a moment and shrugged.

“Sure, I don’t see why not. Miss Morgan seems more than capable of championing me in this legal battle.” He turned to face the judge and rattled his chains a bit. “I’m still not sure why I’m here though.”

The judge and jury sighed, clearly Vincent was on a fast track to getting on their nerves. “You are on trial for attempting to steal our sacred artifact” The judge explained. “We found you in the shrine, breaking the seals around it…”

“Allegedly,” Vince quipped. “Maybe I was doing a report on it and wanted to get a closer look? You can’t get within a stone’s throw distance without tripping a barrier or two…” The judge raised an eybrow as he leaned forward.

“Are you mocking me?” Matao asked, his face turning a deeper scarlet than before.

“Absolutely not, I have nothing but respect for the law. Hence why I surrendered without a fight and I’m sitting here…” the scholar shook his chains once more, “wearing these gaudy chains. Seriously? You couldn’t splurge for good steel?”

[Nicolette]

Her client was obnoxious, and his actions were rash and entirely inappropriate, given the circumstances. He showed little remorse, and even less respect for the system, despite his insistence otherwise. They had warned me about this. In the back of the young woman's mind, a small voice sang praise for the new challenge that lay before her.

"Mister Cain," Nicolette cautioned, moving so to position her small body between the scholar and the judge. This choreography was significant for a number of reasons. It represented her desire to protect the older man, and her willingness to place herself in harm's way should the need arise. But, in truth, it was mostly her attempt at hiding the man from Mateo's view. The stranger seemed hell-bent on ruffling the fat man's feathers, and it would be her responsibility to smooth them over once more. If she could keep the man's attention on her, she might have a chance.

When she spoke again, Nicolette addressed the judge. "Your honor," she began in even and commanding tones, "I motion to adjourn this case. Mister Cain was clearly misinformed, and there is no crime in that. Why waste the jury's time with such a trivial matter?"

Mateo merely blinked down at her. "Miss Morgan, are you joking?"

She sucked in a slow breath, and released it with a soft hiss. "Worth a try," she murmured, only loud enough for Vincent to hear. Then, louder, "alright, I would like to motion for a short recess."

"On what grounds?"

"My client only recently became aware of my involvement in his case. He has every right to confer with me, as do I to better understand his position." She spoke slowly, deliberately, and to those who paid attention, it was clear that she had rehearsed this line of reasoning many times. Since the moment she asked for his case, she had known that it would be a battle. That, paired with her desire to see the man freed, and her keen interest in him, was why she was there in the first place.

It was a compelling argument, even the squatty judge could not deny that. How could he possibly condemn a man to death without giving him time with his lawyer? They were small-town, but they were by no means savages. No, he could spare an afternoon. There would be plenty of time for justice after Vincent Cain had met with little Letty.

"You have two hours, Miss Morgan."

Her response came immediately after. "Your honor, that is not enough time."

Mateo's eyes narrowed, his hands gripping the edges of the podium as he pulled his mass closer to her. It was clear that respect for the woman was the only thing keeping his temper in check. "What, pray tell, would be adequate time?"

"Twenty four hours." Another well-scripted reply, and one that brought the judge's blood to a boil. With some humor, the young lady silently assessed the situation. She had worried about Vincent upsetting the man, yet here she was doing the feather-ruffling.

"Miss Morgan," Judge Mateo began through clenched teeth. "Are you planning to whisk your client to Corone and back during this recess?"

"If that's what is required of me," came the sharp retort, though her smile never wavered.

"Fine. But he stays here, in a cell." He was half-tempted to warn her against any funny business, but opted against the wrath that may invite him; her prominent family was not a group that Damion Mateo looked to pick a fight with.

"Of course."

"We will reconvene at noon tomorrow." One of the judge's hands raked through his thinning hair, and the other banged the gavel sharply against the desk. He did not offer another word as he pushed back, stood from his chair, and hurried from the room. His haste, Nicolette assumed, stemmed from his desire to distance himself from her. But there was no need for his statement, as the room already roared with the spectators' commentary.

Nicolette paid them no mind as she turned to her client. A bailiff hovered just behind her as she asked, "shall we?"

[Cards of Fate]

Vince watched as the woman did battle with the judge. She did not wield a blade, but her tongue was every bit as sharp. She matched wit with the fat, balding judge who seemed to fear her more than a venomous snake. A smug grin played across his lips as he watched her gain inch after inch in their verbal tug of war, until she had taken everything the judge could stand to yield. The court was adjurned for a day, and Vince found himself grinning as the lawyer approached him again.

“Shall we?” She asked.

“It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.” The scholar replied shaking his chains. He rose to his feet and the bailiff growled at him. It appeared the presence of this new woman had put everyone on edge. She seemed rather well to do, an carried an heir of nobility about her. Something about the way she walked, the way she talked, reminded him of his brief experiences with the elven nobility. Making that jump made him shudder slightly. The guard walked them back out of the courthouse into the summer afternoon sun, its golden light bathing them gently as they walked. All around children seemed to scamper about playing games and enjoying their youth. The crowd had abated quickly, but those who had lingered would occasionally jeer something nasty at the scholar.

Their walk was a long one, the courthouse had been built long after the jail, and thus due to poor urban planning, had ended up on the other side of town. Chaeshire and its people were the closest thing Vince had found to Europeans on Althanas. The buildings were relatively simple, and the people were mostly human and fair of skin. The roads were mostly dirt, however three main roads ran to and through the small town of Stonebrook. One lead straight to the capital, one led to the largest port in the small nation, and the other lead through the nearby mountain range. Above, the mountains loomed with the days rain already beginning to form in thick clouds. Come sunset, the water would pour down and water the crops.

When they reached the jail, the bailiff opened a cell and gestured for the two to enter. Vince led the charge into the unfurnished room and took a seat in the corner where he’d been staying before his little jaunt to the court. Once he’d sat down, and the lawyer had entered, the bailiff closed the cell and glared at the scholar.

“No funny business.” He growled. “You so much as lay a finger on her, and I’ll make you wish you were dead…” Vince raised an eyebrow mockingly.

“Why the fuck would I hurt the one woman trying to keep me alive?” he asked cocking his head to one side. “That seems like the worst plan ever.” With that he turned to Nicolette.

“Can I get you anything? Wine perhaps? A smooth brandy or ale?” he teased.

[Nicolette]

His blue eyes found and held hers, twinkling with good-natured humor. Her gaze, on the other hand, remained unreadable. It was not until the man pulled a flask from gods-knew-where that her eyes hardened. "Mr. Cain, please," she snapped, voice cold steel. "You forget yourself."

This seemed to get the man's attention. Startled, he blinked up at her, lips plunging into a frown before opening with a baffled, "huh?"

"I wonder if you're aware of just how much trouble you're in." Angry was not the word to describe her. In fact, to an observer, she appeared calm and collected. Her pale cheeks showed no trace of crimson, and her hands were still neatly clasped behind her. It was her eyes, the most expressive part of her, that told the true story. Though they shimmered with specks the color of stars, the storm that raged within them was anything but tranquil. Her voice dealt the lashes her eyes promised. "Because, I assure you, this is no laughing matter."

In the time it took her to speak, Vincent had found his own words. He had also stowed the flask back in his jacket, determining that it probably did more harm than good. "I'm aware," he countered, hardening slightly under her gaze. He was growing defensive, he recognized immediately, but it was difficult not to. That glare packed a punch.

"You might have fooled me."

The scholar's mind, with all its vast wisdom, could not formulate a sentence. At least, one that would make sense, given the situation. So instead, he simply shrugged. "What do you want me to do about it?"

Nicolette moved to respond, but was promptly interrupted by the sharp crack of a door being flung wide. An imposing figure blocked the sunlight that streamed into the dimly lit jailhouse. His broad shoulders nearly filled the doorframe, and he had to duck slightly to enter, doing so with the familiar clink of armor. Long strides, and the heavy thud of boots, carried him to the cell where Nicolette and Vince resided. Though his gaze remained fixed on the woman, the question he barked was directed toward the bailiff. "What is she doing in there? Why are you locking her up?"

The bailiff, reeling from shock and confusion, began to shout back his own haphazard explanation. It was not until Nicolette herself spoke that the pair fell quiet.

"Xander, please." Gone was the harshness, the cold, and the sting. In fact, Vincent struggled to find any sign that it had existed in the first place. There was only warmth and kindness now, in her tone, and in those golden eyes. "I'm fine. They haven't locked me in here, I'm merely meeting with Mr. Cain. It is nothing to be worried about." Again, "I'm fine."

As if to prove her point, she moved to the bars, reaching her hands toward him. Quickly, and none too gracefully, he hurried to her. Though his hands were hidden by heavy gauntlets, he cupped hers with painstaking gentleness. "I didn't know where you'd gone," he continued, voice choked a bit with emotion. Unlike Nicolette, Xander was not gifted with the ability to mask his feelings; his entire face was lined with concern. "Letty, I didn't know where you were."

"We went out the back," she answered softly. "I'm so sorry, I should have told you."

At this, the man shook his head. "No, don't apologize. I should have been paying more attention. I should have-" His voice trailed as his gaze, for the first time, moved to Vincent. "Are you safe?" He spoke the words to the woman, and made no effort to hide them from her client.

She nodded. "I'm safe. He's a bit slow, perhaps, but not dangerous." Yet even as she spoke the words, she knew he was not slow at all. In fact, knowledge mixed with humor in those blue eyes, and perhaps that was what frustrated her the most. "Xander, this is Vincent Cain." Now was as good a time for introductions as any. "Mr. Cain, this is Xander. He is my friend, and my escort."

Xander gave a small nod. He was still wary, that much was certain. But if Letty said Vincent Cain was safe, he would mind his manners. "Nice to meet you," he murmured.

[Cards of Fate]

The scholar eyed the spectacle of the man entering with mild amusement. Nostrils flaring, he adjusted slightly and returned his drink back to his pocket dimension quietly. The woman had the patience of a saint, and was an expert at masking her emotions.

Her eyes betrayed her though.

The portals to her soul spoke of her anger, of the frustration she felt towards his non chalance. The corners of his mouth upturned into a grin.

It was rare he got to meet someone new, nowadays all he did was paperwork and kissing ass in the elven court. Here he could cut loose, to play all sorts of fun mind games and verbal tricks. He ran her words over in his mind as he absently ran a hand through his messy golden locks.

"Escort?" he asked, a mischeivious grin playing across his face. "Whats his rate? Does he bat for both teams?" a chuckle escaped his lips as he raised his hands up in a calming gesture.

"Kidding of course." he quipped cracking his neck. "I like to diffuse tension with shitty jokes." His eyes sized up Xander, who probably wasnt happy at being called a whore.

"So what's the plan? Give me the four one one..."

[Nicolette]

The knight's eyes widened, before immediately narrowing. The daggers he shot were as sharp as the words he spoke, and struck with just as much force. "How dare you," he snarled, the panic that had plagued him evaporating as a new emotion warmed his cheeks. Though much of the comment had been lost on Xander - what did batting for a team mean? - the main intent rang loud and clear. "I am a royal knight of Caershire, for gods sake." And he did not need to bother with such a pitiful man. "Come on, Letty," he continued, now addressing his friend. "Leave that cell. He can rot here."

"Xander, now that sort of talk is below you," the girl replied, her words reflecting the same gentleness with which he held her hands. "You are better than that."

"He questioned my honor!"

"Add that to his ever-growing list of misdeeds. But you will not stoop to his level." Her voice, and her mannerisms, lacked none of the kindness she had exhibited upon his entrance. Yet there was a finality to them that hung heavy, and was ultimately enough to make the knight nod.

"You're right, Letty. Of course you're right." With an exasperated sigh, Xander raked his hands through his dark hair. "Do you want me to go?"

Nicolette returned the man's offer with an appreciative smile. "I think that would be best. Would you take the bailiff with you?"

The bailiff, who already felt a bit like he was losing control of his own operation, balked. "I have to watch the prisoner."

It was Xander who answered him. "Miss Morgan can handle herself. And we'll be just outside." The last bit had been spoken for Nicolette's benefit, and she was grateful for his understanding as she watched him lead the bailiff out.

"So," Vince quipped from behind her, drawing the single word out. "Royal, eh? Are you a princess or something?"

The question went ignored as Nicolette rounded on Vincent once more, this time, without any witnesses. "Time for you to tell me why you did it," she stated simply. If the man had anything to share, and she suspected he did, he was running out of time to do so.

[Cards of Fate]

Vince watched silently as the two men left before he opened his mouth to speak, and when he did he sounded like a completely different man. His smile faded, all sense of playfulness vanished.

"Because that sheild belongs to my family." he stated bluntly.

He reached into his robe and pulled out a crystal and set it between them. He looked up at her and tapped it. Visions sparked to life and filled the room with light and sound.

They were sitting in the middle of a battlefeild watching an army of shadowy figures all charging forward to meet a massive dragon man seemingly made of stone. In one hand he swung a massive blade that parted the sea of black with ease. The other hand bore a single damascus gauntlet covered in intricate ruins. Everytime he clenched his fist a sheild of crimson appeared to block every blow.

"The Aegis of Strength," Vince stated solumnly. "A long time ago this ancient relic was forged by my ancestors with a single purpose, to serve and protect the peace." he paused for a moment

"My clan goes into hiding for hundreds of years at a time, and at some point your people absconded with our artifact." he picked the crystal up and the visions vanished in an instant. "And then they have the nerve to call me theif."

[Nicolette]

There was a brief moment where Nicolette was left awe-struck. The small cell transformed into a raging battle, horses galloping past her so closely that she longed to reach out and touch them. Shouts, muted and distant, told a story of a well-organized operation plunging into chaos. Her gaze followed the passing horses, their hooves thundering against densely packed earth as they stormed their opponent. Said figure was enormous, dwarfing both the men and their steeds. Mighty wings unfolded from his back, and a thick tail swatted angrily, like that of an irate cat. And more unusual still, rough edges and soft gray hues gave the impression that the figure was carved of stone. It was enough to leave the young woman both breathless and speechless.

Yet as Vincent began his speech, as grand a tale as the illusions that filled the space, Nicolette felt the spell losing its hold on her. He told a dramatic story of a family heirloom, created solely to protect the innocent. There was a mysterious clan that hid from the world for generations. Then, for good measure, there was a "thief" statement meant to tug on her heartstrings. Though the fanciful scene still unfurled around her, her attention was only for Vincent now.

It was merely the fantastic show that her swept her up, she concluded. Magic was outlawed in many parts of Salvar, but some of it had still leaked to the region's outskirts, where Caershire was located. Theodore Henry Langdon, Boyar of Caershire, was even a bit fond of it, so Nicolette had been exposed to such spectacles before. In fact, she had seen better magic. And she had heard more convincing lies.

"Mr. Cain." The words she delivered were flat, dulled by disappointment and creeping annoyance. His entire personality had shifted from easy nonchalance to rigid seriousness in the blink of an eye. He may have intended for this to impress her, and convince her that he was now ready for business, but it did quite the opposite. It painted Vincent Cain as a superficial, wishy-washy man who would not tell the truth when his life literally hung in the balance. As the only woman who had a chance at saving him, it came as a bit of an insult.

"That is certainly an interesting story," she continued, traces of a frown finally creasing her brow, "but I was more interested in the truth."