Part 3: A Debate Risking Life, Death, and Every Penny to My Name

“Ladeans are well-protected and experience little to no peril from external forces. Lade is a country of decent strength, so their citizens have never experienced a war for hundreds of years.”

—Roo Benz

“S-So there you have it, I’m too weak to even be a threat, hahaha…” I wheeze, nudging the Magic Measurer toward Mirei beside me.

She barely suppresses her laughter at the low number. I kick her lightly under the table to get her on with it. She sniffs and plops her hand onto the handle. The numbers tick rapidly for a few seconds, steam puffing and cogs spinning. Then, it dings.

The mayor leans comically forward, adjusting his spectacles with a puzzled expression. Roo turns his head away and adjusts his mask, shoulders shaking. I suspect it’s hidden laughter, so I glare at him. The moderator coughs into his fist and mutters, “Well, shall we move on to the next topic?”

Mirei, quicker than I can even process, scrambles to stand on her chair and lean over the Magic Measurer. In her haste, the chair squeaks and shakes under her movements. I yelp and grab her waist for support.

“What are you doing, Mirei?” I scowl at her. She turns her ashen face toward me.

“I got a four.”

I tuck both of my lips between my teeth, forcibly preventing myself from laughing out loud. How hilarious— I feared Roo would be wrong, and he certainly wasn’t! Not in the slightest!!

Hans Belostrer flips to another page in his folder. He roughly wipes the sweat beading at his bushy eyebrows.

“In light of this new tomfoolery— er, evidence… I will eliminate one of the topics. It is hardly relevant now.”

Roo coughs, but it sounds suspiciously like veiled snickering.

The moderator announces the next topic with solemnity. “Should outlanders have the same rights as any citizen of Lade?”

I groan internally. This has taken a political turn, and politics are not my interest. I may have done well in school for the short time I was there, but anything related to politics had me drooling in the middle of class.

Just as Mayor Crank opens his mouth, Hans Belostrer quickly interrupts him. “Also, the witness may leave the courtroom for now.”

Everyone’s eyes fall onto Roo, who has his arms crossed and one leg tossed over the other. He doesn’t move for an agonizing long moment, but then abruptly stands up.

“I will now take my leave. I’ll be outside should you ping me again.”

He saunters out of the courtroom, a sheer cape flowing behind him. The doors slam shut.

Mayor Crank begins by stating, “They aren’t citizens of Lade, so no.”

Mirei frowns. “But even foreigners have rights in Lade!”

My little sister retained something from the crash course on government Roo gave us! How miraculous! I’m struck with a burning admiration for her.

“You might have some rights, but they’re not the same as a citizen’s,” Mayor Crank huffs. “Or do you fulfill the criteria for a citizen by some stroke of luck?”

Mirei blinks rapidly. “W-What does criteria mean?”

I whisper in her ear, “It means standards or rules.”

“Oh,” She whispers back. The moderator claps his hands twice, urging Mirei to keep talking. She jolts in her seat and scrambles to regain her focus.

“If I remember correctly, to be a citizen, the person has to have a house, a goal to work, and a devotion to the country. Don’t we have all three?”

No, Mirei, we don't, I cry internally. We have none of the three!

“Provide the relevant proofs, then. Where are your documents that show proof of residence? Your interviews for jobs?”

Mirei grins and plops her hands onto her hips, victory glinting in her eyes. “I’d like to call witness Roo Benz back in here!”

Mayor Crank slaps a hand on his forehead and drags it down his face, exasperation rolling off him in waves. Hans Belostrer shakes his head vehemently.

“Someone else’s word cannot substitute for legal documents, little girl,” He chides.

“Well, we just got here. Of course we don’t have the papers yet, but we have worked, we’ve helped the country, and we have a house!”

We all stare dumbfounded at her. The moderator can only snap his fingers, helpless. Roo immediately slams the doors back open. Honestly, they might snap if he keeps doing that.

“What? It’s not like I’m the only witness available for this trial!” Roo seethes, scratching the crown of his head. He marches over to the table and flops down in his chair, all elegance shirked.

“This little girl claims to have citizenship in Lade. She also claims that you can prove this,” Mayor Crank supplies, smirk pulling on the corner of his thin lips.

Roo doesn’t move. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, not with that mask made of porcelain hiding his face. His silence stretches for several seconds, intensifying my dread. I can’t bear to watch, so I turn my attention to the ceiling. I pray for whatever deity these people believe in to gift Roo a divine revelation for how to fix this.

Finally, his voice punctures the tension. “Oh, yes, of course. I can prove that.”

I nearly fall out of my chair. He can?!

Roo mindlessly strokes the end of a braid that hangs loosely over his chest as he explains, “My house, the Benz Mansion, is where they reside.” A gasp rips through everyone’s throats. “They work for me as servants—” Mayor Crank’s spectacles slip off his nose and my mouth falls open. “—and saved me from certain death the day of the disaster.”

Hans Belostrer claps a hand over his mouth, effectively shutting up whatever was about to leap from his mouth. We all heard those soundless words, however: “The Chief’s son was saved by basically magicless outlanders?!”

Mayor Crank, violently shoving his spectacles back up his nose, roars, “Objection! Perjury!”

“Overruled, baseless objection!” Hans Belostrer hollers, sighing heavily. He rubs his eyes in irritation.

Roo throws the braid he’d been toying with over his shoulder. “There is, in fact, proof. While the papers you ask for aren’t in the format you wish, the evidence exists nonetheless. Mayor, hand me that scroll.” Roo extends his open hand toward the seething man. He reluctantly tosses the scroll to Roo, who catches it easily.

He rolls it open and finds what he looks for in the blink of an eye. He spins the scroll around so that we can all see the damning facts. “Suns at one hundred sixty degrees, Benz Square array activated. This is proof that they have been granted access to my mansion, as anyone who uses this array is either of the Benz heritage or servants.”

My mouth still hangs open. I can’t tell whether Roo sees us as his servants or he simply doesn’t care that the array is for certain people only. Either explanation would certainly be in character for him.

“I trust you all know what this proves?”

Mayor Crank sits still, frozen with shock. I almost feel bad for him. He came into this trial with guns blazing, all composure and elegance. Now he is reduced to confusion and shaking hands, infuriated.

“You insolent child…”

“What child? You dare insult the son of the esteemed Chief Pons?”

“Calm down, the two of you! I won’t tolerate any more bickering!” Hans Belostrer hollers, slicing a hand through the air in declaration.

The mayor exhales once before speaking again, much more composed. “Then what about evidence for their devotion to the country of Lade?”

Roo doesn’t say anything. He only turns his face slightly toward mine. Confusion consumes me for a brief moment before I realize what Roo wants me to do. My heart twists as the memory of the sand snake, sandstone fangs sharpened to a lethal point, pulses behind my eyes.

It was my legs that ran for Roo that day. It was my hands that clutched his wrists, my strength that tossed him out of harm's way, my body that withstood the blow. Yet why doesn’t such an admirable action worthy of Roo’s gratitude feel mine?

And yet, the cold fear had been mine. The fear of watching a man who, born as a weak child expected to be everything he was not, die before finding the freedom he’d been cultivating for nineteen years, had been—and still is—mine.

This understanding is what powers my hands to reach for the bag shoved under my chair like a shameful secret. I tug open the zipper and gently pull out tattered teal trousers and a bloody, sand-coated linen shirt. Gingerly, I place them in a heap of junk on the table.

“These are what I wore the day of the sandstorm disaster.”

Nobody speaks. Their eyes are glued to the ripped clothes that look more like scraps of fabric than a shirt and pants. I also brandish the Magic Measurer once more, but this time, I press another button. The numbers behind the small window fall away to reveal four letters: ASES.

“This is the magic assessment setting. After the sandstorm, my magic was left incapacitated. It still is. After I finish explaining what happened that day, this device will prove that what I say really happened.”

It takes a good amount of time for me to regurgitate the truth. There are many parts I didn’t want to reveal, but every time Mirei kicked me in the shin when I skipped over an event. With her help, I got through the whole explanation up to after Roo finished his first magic therapy session with me. The mayor and the moderator both had a hand over their mouths throughout the whole thing, obscuring their expressions. Roo maintained his crossed arms, not moving an inch, even now after I finished. The stillness unnerves me.

“...Anyways, I’ll just show you the magic assessment now,” I mutter, about to place my hand on the steel handle, but Hans Belostrer stops me with a wave of his hand.

“Your story is an insane one. Have you any witnesses to attest to this?”

“Yes,” I reply. “Ping Madam Murel and her grandson, Janol.”

These are two of the people who Roo had saved back then. They were the only ones who accepted my request to submit a letter. The moderator snaps his fingers, magic sparking. The two of them open the courtroom doors tentatively, eyes warily darting across the area. Once the little boy sees Mirei, he gasps in recognition and sprints toward her, wooden pendant swinging around his linen collar.

“Mimi!” He exclaims with a toothy grin and pink cheeks. Janol’s grandmother sighs with a smile, shakes her head, and shuffles forward. I raise an eyebrow at Mirei, wondering when she made friends with this kid.

Mirei cheers and slaps a hand against Janol’s. “Nice to see ya!”

The grandmother chuckles lightly behind me before lowering herself in the witness chair. “You must be Haruki,” She says to me, cloudy eyes glowing with mirth. “Your little sister told me all about you while you were unconscious at Roo’s mansion.”

So they met while I was asleep, I realize. Of course. Mirei can't stand to stay holed up in a building even for a single day.

When I ask them about what they saw, their faces pale and their elf ears flatten against their head in fear. It takes many minutes, but with lots of encouragement from Mirei, they recall everything that happened. It all matches up with what I said earlier.

Hans Belostrer tells them with a gentle voice, “You may go. Thank you for coming today.”

The moderator’s kindness is so uncharacteristic that even the witnesses can tell something’s different. They scurry out of the courtroom, but not before sending Mirei and I a grateful smile. I know Mirei would want to visit them again, so I commit their names and faces to memory.

I say, “I will now do the magic assessment to prove it was me who stepped in front of the snake.”

I place my hand on the handle and the letters spin wildly before numbers take their place. The system for assessing how smoothly one’s magic flows is simple: four zeroes indicate that there are zero problems, so the magic is flowing freely without obstruction. On the other hand, anything above two hundred fifty means that the flow of magic is obstructed to an abnormal extent.

Once the numbers settle, the machine dings. I lean over to see my score.

______________

As expected, I think with relief. I resume speaking because no one offers any thoughts on the score. “When I stepped out to block the snake’s attack, it crashed into me, causing my magic to destabilize. Once more, it’s clear that the sandstorm was powered by a kind of magic that can freeze living beings in time. Or, when Roo tested the vines on the sand, accelerate the life of an organism until it dies.”

I’ve come to this conclusion after pondering what happened endlessly. Always, in the back of my mind, I agonized over what I saw meant.

“Then…” Mayor Crank’s low voice unsettles the quiet that had followed my statement. “...How come you did not freeze in time?”

I suck in a sharp breath. I knew this would come up, but it doesn’t make it any less dreadful to answer.

“Because besides possessing Life Magic, I also have Death Magic and the same magic as the sandstorm’s inside me.”

The moderator, adjudicators, Mayor Crank, and even Roo all flinch.