Part 1: A Debate Risking Life, Death, and Every Penny to My Name

“Debate classes are very common in Ladean academies. It is a required subject learned by all children as early as nine years old. The art of communication is quite important to people of the forest, whether it be in the form of performance or trial.”

—Robin Benz

“My name is Hans Belostrer. I will be moderating this debate,” The man in purple robes announces. “The adjudicators will come in here shortly. For now, I will verify your identities.

“Is it correct that the one to my left is the mayor of Chonti Village, Lio Crank?”

I tense. Until now, we haven’t been told who the prosecution would be. The man on the other end of the table nods his head slowly. “That is correct.”

I gulp, clutching Mirei’s hand in mine under the table. When she glances at me, I see how her jaw is set and her shoulders are relaxed. A soundless message passes between us: we can do this, even if it’s the mayor.

“And is it correct that the ones to my right are foreigners of unknown origin, Takahashi Mirei and Takahashi Haruki?”

Mirei and I respond simultaneously. “Yes.”

“Objection.”

I gape at the speaker. It is Mayor Crank who objected just now, arms crossed. He continues, voice heavy yet foreboding. “Their origin is not unknown. They come from a place outside this world called ‘Japan.’”

Sweat pools where Mirei grasps my hand, dampening my glove. How does this man know this? The only people who know would be Roo, and maybe Arenah… I grab my forehead. Did we tell Arenah? Who is aware of us? To what extent? My thoughts spiral in an unstoppable hole. I only vaguely hear Mirei’s stern declaration: “I don’t believe any of you know of Japan. So while our origin is known to be Japan, you don’t know of Japan itself. We’re not trying to confuse anybody.”

“Objection overruled,” Hans Belostrer waves his hand in dismissal. “I’m aware that they claim to be from Japan, Mayor Crank. I appreciate your zealousness, but save it for when the trial actually begins. We have plenty of time.”

Mayor Crank brings up a crooked finger to touch the bridge of his nose. I can’t tell what it is behind the shadows, until there is a small glint and a click. They must be spectacles. Then, he mutters, “I concur.”

A breath that had been trapped in my throat escapes me in wake of those words. Mire shoots me a crooked smile, reassuring me. I must get my act together; letting my little sister carry the team would mean I’m the worst big brother alive.

Hans Belostrer speaks once more. “Please verbalize your claims for the court and for the records, please. Prosecution first.”

Mayor Crank leans forward and rests his elbows onto the table. His hands clasp together and hold up his bearded chin. “I claim that the outlanders indirectly caused the sandstorm that ravaged half of Chekagi Tree. As such, I demand the maximum sentence of Wealth Claim and death.”

Astonishment chokes me. When Roo was forcing us to go over the rules, there was a section that delineated what the prosecution could demand for compensation. Wealth Claim is when every penny under a person’s name was claimed for the state— or in this world, Tree. Death is also a viable option, but reserved for the most heinous of crimes. The mayor before us claims that we merely indirectly caused it, so for him to demand death and a Wealth Claim is unheard of. Even the moderator thinks so, for his eyebrow ticks upward and he shifts uncomfortably.

“I’ll allow it,” Hans Belostrer acknowledges. My eyes widen— I can’t believe he allowed it.

It’s crystal clear: this moderator is not in our favor.

“Defense, state your claim.”

I swallow once and, straightening my back, lock eyes with Mayor Crank. “Our claim is that we had nothing to do with the sandstorm disaster, and it was mere coincidence that our arrival in Chekagi Tree coincided with the sandstorm’s.”

Hans Belostrer sighs. “And your demand for compensation?”

“None.”

Both men stare at us for a long moment. The silence suffocates me. Just when I’m about to combust, a pair of doors slam open.

From behind the adjudicators box, an open doorway reveals a trio of women. They’re adorned in green and ebony robes tied together by a golden belt. A fish insignia glimmers on the center of the belt and the fabric over their hearts. The tallest woman, with broad shoulders, a strict posture, and an elegant face is the one who speaks first.

“Thank you for your patience. All rise.”

The mayor and the moderator both stand immediately. I scramble to my feet along with Mirei.

“Place your hand over your heart and repeat after me: I swear upon my Life and the magic that powers it that perjury will not be committed.”

Her oppressive, deep voice booms throughout the whole courtroom. We repeat after her, and yet the combined volume of our voices is comparable to a mere whisper against to her’s.

“You may sit.”

We do so. The adjudicators fan out within the box designated for them and stand in front of their seats. Their stone faces are solemn and gray, completely unreadable. It won’t be easy to get their compassion. The lady who spoke has a beauty that belies her severe nature.

“I am Head Adjudicator Ohma. My two companions are Adjudicator Elne and Adjudicator Yerem. We will oversee all proceedings. I expect civility and professionalism in this room, regardless of your feelings on beings from another world.”

Somehow, despite the emotionless demand in her voice, her words bring me great comfort. It’s clear she won’t tolerate any discrimination, so the moderator will be hard-pressed to play into Mayor Crank’s favor.

Head Adjudicator Ohma states her final sentence of the trial: “I’ve delegated one hour for this case today. We will resume the trial tomorrow at the same time. You may now begin.”

One hour, I think. This is good.

Roo had explained that trials are extremely strenuous on the mind. You must watch what you say while using unshakeable logic to undermine the opponent. Not only that, you have to come prepared with witnesses and materials. In Mirei and I’s case, we hardly have any material evidence, only mostly witnesses.

I glance down at my school bag beside my chair. Inside are the magic measuring device and the clothes I wore the day of the disaster. I hope to the gods that it will be enough.

Hans Belostrer opens his folder. Inside is an inch-thick stack of parchment covered in small characters. Roo’s translation spell is still in effect, so I can read them if needed.

“I will start by explaining the topics of debate today. You are not to discuss these topics outside this courtroom with anyone, or your magic will be locked for as long as the court sees fit. Similarly, if you commit perjury, your magic will be locked indefinitely. Are we in agreement?”

Mayor Crank, Mirei, and I express our approval.

“Excellent. As we only have one hour, I suspect we’ll only get through two of the five topics. Something of note is that there might be more than five in the future as the trial goes on. Let’s begin.”

Five is not too bad. I straighten in my chair, ready to hear whatever the moderator will have us talk about.

“First: are the outlanders malicious,” Hans Belostrer lets his left hand extend toward Mayor Crank, palm facing upward. “Or peaceful?” He does the same with his right. It’s like he’s pondering the question himself with that pose.

Mayor Crank spares no time in saying his piece. “Let’s recall the first instance that the outlanders came into the capital city of Lade, Iochefo. They did not break in, but rather traveled through the city’s transportation arrays.”

He pulls out a scroll wrapped in a green ribbon. He unties the ribbon, unfurls it, and then spins it around so that we can read its contents. He points on stubby finger at a line of text, reading out loud, “Suns at ninety degrees, Vera’s Array activated. Suns at ninety-one degrees, Chonti Farms’ Array activated. These are records from the ley line monitoring device on Forre Tree.”

I lean back in my chair, puzzled. How is this evidence that we are malicious? I eye the mayor warily, desperately searching in his expression for any hints toward his line of reasoning. I cannot see anything past the shadow.

The mayor clasps his hands together once more on the table’s surface, saying with a dry tone, “This is more than a mere coincidence, is it not?”

He opens the scroll further, and slams a finger down on the small text at the bottom part of the page.

“Suns at one-hundred degrees, ley lines disrupted several ude from Chekagi Tree. This is the first stirring of the sandstorm.

“This might sound familiar— when the outlanders first arrived, the ley lines were also slightly disrupted. I suspect the outlanders are malicious because they cause problems in the ley lines wherever they are,” Mayor Crank concludes.

Oh crap, I think. Even I think we’re suspicious. Mirei definitely feels the same way. I can tell because she’s making the face she always makes when I catch her stealing any of my stuff. Totally guilty.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to come up with a way to both refute the mayor’s point and support my claim that we’re peaceful. I sigh internally, knowing I’ll have to somehow use all my brain cells to get through the trial. This is going to be tough.