After the friends were apprehended, they were separated and placed into solitary cells to prevent any form of contact. A special investigative committee was formed—house Veluzi spending a fortune to add a single Church of Truth cleric to it to get to the truth without the interrogators resorting to their more advanced, physical techniques. After all, criminals (and several unlucky politicians who had the honour of meeting the interrogators) dubbed them "the testicular mages" for a reason. Not a single rat was dumb enough to commit an offence that warranted their participation twice, and the phrase "tests upon you" was one the vilest insults imaginable. Some linguists argued it originally meant "may the gods send you hardship," and there was no connection to the thieves' cant, but clearly, none of them had ever been properly interrogated.

  When the members of the group were interrogated (which, to the dissatisfaction of the testicular mages, felt like questioning, if anything else: the young ratkins answered all the questions willingly, with the cleric nodding to indicate that their words were truthful), any politician with half a brain could see the truth hidden in plain sight: this was a political assassination attempt against House Veluzi, meticulously orchestrated by the one rat who stood to gain the most—Lord Chancellor himself.

  But, as reality often reminds us, in the absence of proof, certainty means nothing. Sozos' father's friends and allies scoured the city for the informant, desperate for a thread of evidence, but he disappeared without a trace, which Lord Chancellor made sure to take care of. The poor guy played his role and now was resting three feet under in a forest several miles away from the city.

  Righteous Sozos, being naive and inexperienced in politics, pled a committee to look into the documents in the safe, still hoping to turn things around and have justice prevail over the treacherous rat. Only to get told that those were top-secret defence reports that he was after and that he and his friends were facing royal treason charges.

  House Veluzi fought with all its might to delay the trial in hopes of finding any clue that could've saved their heir, amassing an enormous debt in the process and facing bankruptcy in the near future. Still, as the saying goes, "If something is known by two rats, it is known by everyone". Despite strict security measures, rumours of the accident started spreading, prompting nervousness in people. The government had to address it and do so without hesitation. The date of the hearing has been set.

  The trial occurred behind closed doors: the case had to be closed once and for all without further speculation. The public wasn't entitled to the details—only the verdict. The trial itself was short, bureaucratic and borderline boring, the only intrigue being whether the Lord Chancellor would risk being exposed by trying to humiliate his political enemy further. He didn't. He was too bright for something that dumb when the victory was already in his grasp.

  Sozos, Josephine, Marik, and Sv?rd saw each other for the first time in five days. The three latter behaving like Sozos didn't even exist without any prior agreement. Marik's shoulder was bandaged after a crossbow hit—it was considered wasteful to use healing magic on criminals, who might get executed a couple of days later.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  Verdict - guilty of all charges, penalty - death. As the words echoed through the courtroom, wails erupted from the families of the condemned, Sv?rd being a little sad that the only three other rats in the world that would cry for him were going to get executed on the same day.

  Sozo's father kept his composure. He already accepted that this was going to happen, but he refused to accept that it was the way the trial ended. When the family lawyer turned to look at him and their eyes met, he gave a single nod back.

  "Your honour, I invoke the Right of Trial by Dungeon!" he declared to the judge as much as to the room.

  The judge blinked. "What do you mean?"

  "In the year 738, a law was passed granting any willing criminal an option to be tried by the dungeon. If a group of thirteen criminals - no more, no less - can be gathered in a week's time instead of serving the punishment assigned by the court, they can choose to venture into the catacombs under the royal palace. If they were to return from the said dungeon, all charges are to be dropped, their records wiped clean. This law remains in force to this day."

  The courtroom fell into stunned silence, broken only by murmurs and whispers.

  "Your honour, even if such a law exists, are we really following a seven-century-old regulation?" the prosecutor objected.

  "If the law stands and was never repealed," the judge replied, "then yes, we are. I will consult the archives personally. Due to the nature of this request, no one is to leave the courthouse." He vanished through a door behind him.

  Surprisingly, order was maintained other than the guards having to restrain the mothers from going near their children three times. Ratfolk was trying to remember any mention of this law, going as far as bringing up old fairy tales they'd heard when they were young. A few remembered legends of the dungeon, of brave knights venturing there in search of treasure, but those were considered works of fiction, folklore.

  An hour later - an hour that felt like an eternity for everyone present - the judge returned and took his place behind his desk. He looked unsettled.

  "I've been practising law my whole life, but it's the first time I'm taken aback. I've checked the archives, and this law, in fact, does exist. Forgotten but never repealed. Presumingly, the defenders agree to it. Do you have nine other willing criminals?"

  "Here's the list, your honour," said the defender as he passed a piece of paper to the judge. "There are twelve names on it in case some of the young ratkins choose imminent death instead of taking this opportunity."

  "In case all of them agree, exclude the bottom four names," he added a necessary clarification.

  "Is this some sort of a joke?" reacted the prosecutor, unable to believe his ears.

  "The law is hard, but it is the law," was the only reply the judge gave him.

  "To anyone present: when this rule was adopted, there was a condition set that our dear defender forgot to mention: the rite of trial by dungeon can only be called upon once in fifty years," the judge clarified. "The countdown starts today, assuming at least one accused takes the deal".

  He turned to the young ratkins. "So that you know, archives speak of three groups of rats entering the dungeon. Not a single one ever came back."

  "Court adjourned; we've got many preparations ahead of us."