11 – Hearing

  As he waited for the committee hearing to begin, Ward stood still and observed the Assembly members who would be hearing his testimony. The central figure, who had spoken earlier and told him to wait for the warden of the court, wore a black half-mask adorned with golden stars and moons. He was slender and tall—probably more than six feet—and his eyes gleamed with a bright orange-tinted illumination. Ward wasn’t clear on what the colors of a sorcerer’s eye glow meant, but he’d never seen eyes like that before. He could surmise that the man before him was likely quite powerful.

  The masks were clearly ceremonial; Ward wouldn’t have any trouble picking these people out of a crowd, with or without them. The man with the glowing eyes had a distinct goatee, thin lips seemingly set in a permanent sneer, and a narrow nose jutting out from beneath his mask. The woman to his right was elderly, her silver hair bound tightly in a bejeweled net. Her eyes were clouded with cataracts, and her chin and neck wobbled with extra skin at every small, shaky movement of her head.

  The others were equally distinctive—a burly, black-bearded man with dark, angry eyes; a slender, narrow-faced woman with long, straight blonde hair; a plump, middle-aged fellow with rosy cheeks, a bulbous nose, and lips that stood out like red licorice against his pale flesh; an older gentleman with carefully coiffed steel-gray hair and a stooped posture; and, finally, a petite woman with bright coppery curls and green eyes that shimmered with the telltale glow of mana.

  Looking from face to face, Ward let his lycan senses soak in their perfumes and pheromones. The central figure and the woman with the long blonde hair stood out the most. Their eyes were sharp and angry, and beneath their composed expressions, he could detect the scent of fear.

  Ward’s earlier notion that he still had an avenue of escape—his magic—seemed to be crumbling. If this central figure was a more powerful sorcerer, he’d have to rely on his inner beast and the element of surprise if it came to that. He wasn’t sure why his mind was taking him in that direction; so far, all he knew was that they wanted to question him. But something felt off.

  The older man with the stooped back straightened slightly and announced, “I motion for this meeting of the Marshal Oversight Committee to begin.”

  “I second,” said the petite woman with red curls.

  “So be it.” The central figure set down the quill he had been using to write, folded his hands, and fixed his glowing amber eyes on Ward. “We have before us one Ward Dyer—traveler to the Vainglory Worlds. He is here as a witness and participant in the recent Westview Crisis on the world of Cinder.” He leaned forward, his stare drilling into Ward. “Are you Ward Dyer?”

  Ward didn’t like the sound of Westview Crisis, and he didn’t like the way most of the committee members were now looking at him. But there was no point in denying the obvious. “I am.”

  “And, Mr. Dyer, do you swear to give honest testimony before this committee, whose members are all ranking officials of the Vainglory Assembly?”

  Ward unintentionally slipped into his courtroom dialect. “I do so swear.”

  The man nodded. “I am Chancellor Veylan, the presiding chancellor of this committee, and you may address me as such. When speaking directly to my colleagues, refer to them as adjudicators.”

  Ward almost sighed but kept his composure. At least the masks were purely ceremonial—these people weren’t trying to hide their identities. “Understood, Chancellor.”

  “Very good. You may be seated.” He shuffled some papers while Ward walked to the chair and sat. “I yield the floor to Adjudicator Reembak to begin the inquiry.”

  The petite woman with the red curls cleared her throat and peered down at Ward through a black and white polka-dotted mask. “Mr. Dyer,” she asked in a clear contralto, “would you please, in your own words, review the events that led up to the incident on the sixth of Duskane in the city of Westview?”

  Ward shifted in his seat and looked at her. He knew what she wanted him to talk about, but he figured he ought to ensure clarity, this being some sort of hearing and all. “Can you please explain the term Duskane?”

  She smiled, her eyes bright behind the mask. “Duskane is the seventh month in the standard Vainglory System calendar.”

  “Ah. Well, as I’m new to your system and haven’t been marking the days, may I ask if that’s the date on which Marshal True and I confronted the demonic cult in Westview?”

  Chancellor Veylan set his papers down abruptly, his expression hardening. “The witness will not use such loaded terms without any evidence to support them. More than testimony is needed to assign words such as ‘evil’ to the group of people who were massacred in the Westview Crisis.”

  Ward wanted to argue, but he held back, saving his objections for when they were truly needed. Adjudicator Reembak interjected smoothly, “Ward, we are speaking about the series of events that this committee has labeled the Westview Crisis.”

  “Right.” Ward cleared his throat and met her gaze. Then he began. “This all started—or at least, my involvement in it did—when I confronted a madman in Copper Valley, a few days' travel from Port Granite. Are you familiar with the warlock, Nevkin?”

  “Marshal True mentioned him in her testimony,” Reembak said. “Please continue.”

  “Right. Well, after he attacked my companion and me, and he met an untimely end, we recovered a sealed artifact from his stash of belongings…”

  Ward recounted the tale from Nevkin to the murder on the voyage from Port Granite to Westview and Lisa’s involvement with the Oathbound and their struggles with the Circle of Thorns. He told them about his hotel room being robbed and about their suspicions that the Circle was trying to kill him and possibly Lisa. He carefully avoided mentioning Haley’s name.

  Surprisingly, the committee listened without interruption—so long as he refrained from labeling the Circle as a cult or evil. Even when describing Keene’s possession and exorcism, he had to use neutral language. But when he got to the part where he and True planned to strike Dame Ruby’s mansion, the burly, black-bearded man cleared his throat.

  “Mr. Dyer—”

  Veylan raised a hand in a halting motion. “Let the record show that Adjudicator Harnish is questioning the witness.”

  Harnish glowered for a moment, then continued. “Mr. Dyer, did you not think it would be wise to approach the city watch? Surely, they had superior resources within their own city compared to a single marshal.”

  “Well, yes, we considered it, but I’d already been attacked by city guards moonlighting as bandits before, and Marshal True was aware that the watch was often, um, incentivized to go along with the plans of the political elite in the city.”

  Veylan pressed his fingertips together and exhaled sharply. “Strike that from the record. There is no evidence of corruption among the Westview City Watch, nor will we allow second-hand rumors to impugn the honor of the nobility in that city.”

  Ward sighed and waited to see if Harnish would ask him to rephrase. The burly man sat back and muttered, “I yield to Adjudicator Reembak.”

  “Please continue, Mr. Dyer.”

  Ward nodded and told the tale of their assault on Dame Ruby’s manor. He anticipated he’d have to explain things multiple times, and he wasn’t wrong. Several times, Veylan interrupted, making him restate certain details—particularly his assertion that most of the cultists had been possessed.

  No matter how much it irked him, Ward couldn’t prove that they had been. Of the dozens of dead cultists, only a handful had exhibited twisted, mutated bodies for others to see with their own eyes. He hoped that his testimony, aligning with True’s, would… ring true.

  As he finished, Veylan cleared his throat, his voice sharp and deliberate. “I have many questions about the veracity of Mr. Dyer’s testimony, and I will ask my own in due time. First, I will open the floor to each committee member. We will start with Adjudicator Reembak, as she currently holds the floor.”

  Ward’s breathing quickened, his heart pounding just a little harder. He had been trained not to let attorneys rattle him, but this man was more like a judge—and he was definitely getting under Ward’s skin. He resisted the urge to glower, to growl. The last thing he needed was to give them any reason to label him as out of control.

  Reembak’s clear contralto cut through the tension. “Mr. Dyer, would you explain how you managed to contain the ‘entity’ within the artifact?”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Ward hesitated. “I don’t know exactly. As I testified, I was badly wounded and still fighting for my life. I saw the cloud of… stuff flying toward Lisa’s face—”

  “This is Lisa DeGrand? Your ally?”

  “Yes, Adjudicator.”

  Reembak nodded and turned to Veylan. “Please note for the record that we have received Ms. DeGrand’s written testimony, and it is part of the official record.” She turned back to Ward. “Please continue.”

  “I took the artifact off Dame Ruby’s corpse and held it in the cloud. It seemed to absorb it.” Ward kept his voice even, hoping his half-truth sounded convincing. There was no way he was going to mention that he had a demon of his own living inside him.

  Reembak studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I yield.”

  Veylan tapped his fingers against the table. “Adjudicator Lassis.”

  The older woman straightened slightly, looked down at Ward, then slumped again. “I have no questions.”

  Veylan exhaled sharply and turned his glowing eyes toward Harnish. “Adjudicator Harnish.”

  The burly man nodded. “Mr. Dyer, how long have you been afflicted with the Lycan—”

  “I object, sir!” the older gentleman with neatly combed gray hair interjected.

  Veylan held up a hand, cutting off further protest. “Let the record show that there is debate as to whether a lycan bloodline is an affliction, and this committee will refrain from labeling it or other bloodlines as such.”

  Harnish scoffed softly but adjusted his wording. “Mr. Dyer, how long has it been since you first awakened your lycan bloodline?”

  “I’m not sure. A few months?”

  “So, not long before the Crisis?”

  Ward shrugged. “That’s right.”

  “Would you say it was a lucky thing that you did?”

  Veylan exhaled loudly and ran a hand down his face. “What’s the point of this line of questioning, Harnish?”

  The burly man lifted a shoulder. “Sounds like Mr. Dyer pretty much saved the city. Seems his bloodline was a big part of that.”

  Veylan’s lip curled slightly, but he simply tapped his fingers against the desk again. “Save your conclusions for the end of this hearing, Adjudicator. Do you have further questions?”

  Harnish nodded, shifting in his chair. “Mr. Dyer, did you witness any deaths that night at Dame Ruby’s estate of people who were, in your opinion, not infected by otherworldly beings?”

  Ward thought of True’s advice: Stick to the truth. He sat up straight and nodded. “Yes. I believe several of the household guards weren’t possessed. We did our best to subdue and restrain them, but as I told you, we were betrayed by the DeGrand house guards, and they died. Several of the guards trying to keep us out of the sanctum were also slain.”

  “And those gathered in said sanctum? Were they all possessed?”

  “I don’t know. They attacked us like they were, but I couldn’t be sure.”

  Harnish grunted and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “I yield.”

  Veylan scribbled something on his parchment and didn’t look up. “Adjudicator Trame.”

  The woman with the long blonde hair sat forward. Ward could still smell the fear emanating from her—tangy, sour, barely masked by the floral spice of her perfume. “Mr. Dyer, how many people did you kill or have a hand in killing during the Westview Crisis?”

  Ward frowned. He didn’t like where this was going, but what could he do? “Twenty-seven.”

  “Is that accurate? I thought that was the count of deaths at Dame Ruby’s estate. What about those you slew the evening before?”

  “Oh.” Ward’s scowl deepened. “Less than eleven—nine, I think.”

  Trame’s lips pursed. “Nine, you think? What a shame that much of the evidence was destroyed. We have no exact accounting, but I suppose the number matches what the city investigators found.” She turned to Veylan. “I have no further questions.”

  Veylan barely glanced up. “Adjudicator Bemish?”

  The plump fellow with the rosy cheeks cleared his throat. “All of my concerns were addressed in the testimony.”

  The chancellor finally lifted his gaze, his glowing eyes narrowing at Bemish. He tapped his fingers once, then turned. “And Adjudicator Coral?”

  The older, stooped man with the well-styled gray hair cleared his throat. “I see no reason to belabor the matter. I yield.”

  Veylan set his quill aside and folded his hands. “What were the names of your victims—the ones you slew at a well-regarded noblewoman’s estate?”

  “I object!” Coral growled, slamming a fist on the desk.

  Veylan’s gaze snapped to him, sharp as a blade. “Victim implies blamelessness. We have a Marshal’s testimony under the truth compass to verify Mr. Dyer’s accounting of—”

  “Do not disclose privileged information, or I will have you censured!” Veylan’s voice rose, his glare sharp as he cut Coral off.

  Ward couldn’t help the slight twitch of his lips, though he schooled his expression. It was becoming very clear that there was less of a case against him than some of these puffed-up politicians wanted to let on.

  Veylan turned back to Ward. “You don’t know the names of those you killed?”

  “I didn’t say that. I know some of them from reading the newspaper in Westvie—”

  “Is the name Shelly Ewens among those you recall?”

  Ward tried to think, but the name didn’t come to mind. “I’m sorry, but no.”

  Veylan drummed his fingers once before speaking. “A young woman, merely twenty-six years of age. There has been no evidence that she was demon-possessed, and yet she was torn to shreds by your hands.”

  Ward shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I only fought transformed cultists while my lycan bloodline was active.”

  Veylan held his stare, but after a beat, he pushed his chair back. “Stand to hear the outcome of your hearing.”

  Ward couldn’t stop a soft curse from slipping out, caught off guard by the anger in Veylan’s voice and the visible flush creeping up the chancellor’s face. Luckily, the clamor in the chamber masked his outburst, and he covered it by clearing his throat as he stood.

  Veylan wasted no time, picking up a sheet of parchment and reading aloud in a steady, deliberate tone. “In the matter known as the Westview Crisis, this committee of Assembly members has convened to determine the disposition of Ward Dyer in light of his actions in said crisis. We stand here to decide whether Ward Dyer should face trial for his conduct, most notably the slaying of dozens of citizens, many of whom were upstanding members of the noble class.”

  Ward stiffened, holding his breath. He had anticipated this. He knew they weren’t about to declare him guilty outright, but the possibility of a trial was looming, and he wasn’t foolish enough to take that lightly. His fists clenched at his sides, and he worked to slow his breathing, exhaling carefully to keep himself calm.

  “Adjudicator Lassis, yay or nay, should Ward Dyer stand trial?”

  The old woman looked startled, as if she’d been dozing, and mumbled, “Nay.”

  Veylan frowned. “Adjudicator Harnish?”

  The burly man waved a hand dismissively. “Nay.”

  Ward felt the first stirrings of hope as Veylan’s frown deepened.

  “Adjudicator Trame?”

  The blonde-haired woman sat up straight and declared, “Aye!” She punctuated it with a small fist against the desk.

  Veylan gave the slightest nod. “Adjudicator Bemish?”

  The rotund fellow sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’m sorry to say that I believe a trial is warranted. Aye.”

  Ward’s muscles tensed. He expected Veylan to vote for a trial, which meant he couldn’t afford to lose either of the next two votes. His heart rate picked up. The walls of the chamber felt like they were pressing in. The beast stirred inside him, sensing the tension, coiling like a predator before a fight.

  Veylan turned to the older man with the stooped back. “Coral?”

  Coral straightened, shaking his head. “Nay. This is a farce.”

  Veylan’s jaw twitched, his grip tightening on the quill in his hand. He didn’t reach for the gavel this time—perhaps realizing how futile it was—but he let out a slow breath through his nose before turning. “Adjudicator Reembak?”

  The small woman with the red curls smiled at Ward and said, “Nay, Chancellor.”

  Relief washed over him. He took a steadying breath, finally releasing the tension from his shoulders.

  Veylan, scowling deeply, glared at him as if he alone had orchestrated the vote. “Let the record show that I vote in the affirmative. As the tally is four against and three for, Ward Dyer will not stand trial.”

  Coral exhaled sharply. “I move to adjourn—”

  “Not just yet, Adjudicator Coral.” Veylan didn’t slam the gavel, but his tone cut through the chamber like a blade. He folded his hands and leaned forward slightly. “In light of the testimonies of Marshal True and Mr. Dyer, I believe this matter warrants further inquiry. While we will not pursue legal charges for the Westview Crisis, I would like leeway to establish an investigative commission of my own. To facilitate those matters, I propose that Ward Dyer and his companion, Haley of Tarnish, be housed in the Assembly Hall residences for visiting dignitaries.”

  A ripple of murmurs spread through the adjudicators, but Veylan didn’t waver.

  “I ask this for ease of access; I’m sure my investigators will have follow-up questions.”

  “I object!” Coral growled, his chair creaking as he sat forward. “We’ve just established that he’s not guilty of any crimes worth pursuing.”

  Veylan lifted a hand, nodding slowly. “I do not intend to attempt to retry Mr. Dyer. I am, however, concerned about the impact of the artifact that Marshal True delivered. More than that, I am troubled by the proliferation of such objects. If Westview could harbor such a nest of trouble, how many more such enclaves exist in our cities? That will be the focus of my investigative commission—the safety of the Vainglory worlds.”

  The red-haired woman tilted her head. “How long?”

  “I would ask that Mr. Dyer and his companion remain in Ordo Caelus, residing in the Assembly Hall for a period of three months.”

  Ward exhaled slowly. This bastard wasn’t about to let him leave without some sort of shackles—real or imaginary—around his ankles. He scanned the room and saw that even some of those who had voted to clear him were nodding along.

  Mentally, he cursed, but he wasn’t going to roll over and let Veylan shackle him. He decided to head them off before the man could start dictating further restrictions. “Excuse me, may I speak, Chancellor?”

  Veylan turned his glowing eyes on him and gave a small nod. “This committee will hear you.”

  Ward folded his arms, tilting his head slightly. “I’m willing to abide by your terms. I’ll stay here for the three months you’ve requested. I just ask that you don’t limit my movements around the city. I have my business to attend to.”

  Veylan narrowed his eyes, studying him as if trying to read what angle Ward was playing at.

  Ward suppressed a smirk, sure that Veylan was regretting his short list of demands. Three months wasn’t ideal, but if he had to be stuck somewhere, the Assembly Hall wasn’t a bad place. Free dignitary quarters? Probably free food? He’d save a fortune. More importantly, Ordo Caelus was at the heart of everything—the best shopping, the largest libraries, and easy access to all three of the local challenges.

  Veylan scanned the room. “Do any object?”

  No one spoke.

  Veylan’s fingers drummed the table once before he finally said, “It is so ordered. I move to adjourn this committee.”

  “Seconded,” Coral said immediately, already standing.

  “So ordered.” Veylan rapped the gavel once, a crisp finality to the meeting. Then, fixing Ward with a hard look, he added, “Our warden of the court will take you to the administration clerk, where you will be assigned quarters.” With that, he stood, turned sharply, and strode down the steps behind the high desk, disappearing into the corridor beyond.

  Ward let out a slow breath and turned to the warden. He wasn’t sure how to feel—part relieved, part pissed off, part… hungry. Yeah, he’d find Haley and eat first; they could ponder existential questions later. The thought put a grin on his face as he stepped forward, holding out his hand for his things.