Part 5: A Debate Risking Life, Death, and Every Penny to My Name

“The Ministry of Magicians is responsible for defending Lade’s freedom of magic. They do this by means of lawmaking, army training, and many other methods. They penetrate deep into the government.”

—Robin Benz

The clink of crystals knocking against each other floats down from the high ceiling. Their light is small, reduced to a dim glint of white. Soft breaths and the rustling of blankets punctuate the serene silence. Mirei kicks the blanket on her futon as she sleeps. Roo lays on his side facing me, blankets tucked to his chin. Subtle snoring whispers beneath slightly parted lips, tickling my cheek.

I’m on my back, eyes wide open as I stare at the crystals above. Roo had been shifting in his sleep a bit, which caused him to inch ever closer to me. At this point, mere inches separate us under the covers.

For twenty of the sixty minutes I’m supposed to be resting, my chest fills with the addictive sweet scent of flowers and my head swims with soft feelings I’ve never experienced before. I know that, beneath the blankets, my gloved hand is close enough to Roo’s that if I were to stick out a pinkie, it would surely make contact. I have a spontaneous thought of gratitude toward myself that I kept the gloves on.

And just like before, when mindless instinct made me run to save him, I find myself shifting so that I’m on my side. Our faces are close like this, small breaths mingling together in the pocket of space between us. I marvel at the rare peacefulness that smooths Roo’s sleeping face. Usually, there would either be a frown creasing his forehead or a smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth.

I wonder if Roo has ever found this kind of peace while awake..

My eyelids droop, melancholy and tranquility seating itself deep in my bones. I drift off.

* * *

The rest of the evening passes by in an enjoyable haze of feasts and jolly discussion. It’s all too soon before night becomes morning and the second day of trial begins. This should be the last day because only one hour was allotted for today and we only have to get through two more discussion topics. After that, it will probably take a few more days before the adjudicators come to a decision.

Mirei and I stand before the same courtroom doors, wearing the same fancy clothes as yesterday. The tension has made me rigid and stiff.

I clear my throat and readjust the gloves on my hands. “Are you ready, Mirei?”

She rubs her nose violently to try and prevent an oncoming sneeze. Then, she replies, “Yeah.”

We push open the doors together and stride forward.

“Welcome to the second day of proceedings,” The moderator, Hans Belostrer, immediately greets. He sits in the same chair as he did before. The only difference is his clothes: a black robe dotted with fish near the hems. Mirei gulps and clutches onto my hand as we make our way to our seats. Once we sit down, I notice that the seat at the other end of the table is empty. Mayor Crank will most likely arrive shortly.

Minutes full of tension tick by, but the feeling is not as all-encompassing as it was yesterday. This is why, once the mayor pushes open the doors and saunters into the courtroom, I don’t flinch at the sudden sound of doors creaking. Today he wears a velvety suit jacket the color of the green sun high in the sky. Once he seats himself—not without a grunt for a greeting—the moderator lays a hand over the folder in his lap.

“Alright. Just like last time, please state your claim and demands for the records.”

We do so.

“Brilliant. The adjudicators will be in here shortly. But before they come, I have been advised to let you three know something.”

Hans Belostrer runs his hand through his hair streaked with gray and speckled with leaves. “Unfortunately, the time designated to us has been shortened. Instead of the predicted one hour, it will be cut to forty-five minutes.”

I frown. Mirei shoots a worried glance at me. Then, she asks, “Why?”

“I haven’t got a clue,” Hans Belostrer drawls, eyes darting away.

This man definitely knows why. And from the look of Mayor Crank, who wears a solemn expression beneath the shadow of his fedora, also knows why. While we wait in silence for the adjudicators to arrive, I wrack my brains for the answer.

Just as the doors behind the adjudicator's box are thrust open, a dangerous thought surfaces in my mind: could they have already solidified the verdict?

The trio of women with stone for skin fan out within the raised area reserved for them. The tallest, whom I recognize as Head Adjudicator Ohma, places her hand over the fish insignia on her heart.

“All rise. Repeat after me,” She commands. We follow her lead and recite the oath to not commit perjury. Our voices echo within the empty courtroom even after we’ve finished speaking. Then, we sit.

“Let us begin,” Hans Belostrer says, voice loud in our ears. “Discuss for the court: what relationship might the sandstorm have with the outlanders?”

Instantly, I cringe. Mayor Crank harrumphs, “Their relationship is simple: both the sandstorm and the outlanders have the same magic.”

“We might be connected by the same magic type, but in terms of magic power, our levels couldn’t be more different,” I retort.

“Well, there are other similarities,” The mayor shoots back. “You end up in the same place, your magic makes no sense, you cause chaos in Lade—“

“We already discussed that the timing of the sandstorm’s arrival and our arrival was mere coincidence. And how can you say we caused any chaos? The broken ley lines brought us here against our will!”

“Oh please, it’s all the same.”

“Objection,” I hiss, throwing my hands up into the air. “Refusal to acknowledge the flaws in an argument.”

Hans Belostrer leans back in his chair languidly before announcing, “…Overruled.”

Mirei purses her lips beside me as I pinch the bridge of my nose. This back and forth persists for nearly twenty minutes. Almost every time I try to assert an objection, Hans Belostrer rejects it. I can tell that the energy in the adjudicator’s box is devolving into frustration. But they don’t interfere, so I start to doubt whether they truly are anti-discrimination.

At any rate, Mayor Crank calls in multiple of his chosen witnesses throughout our debate. One of them claimed to have saw us stealing clothes from the shop Roo took us to, another explains through tears how I screamed at her child to not touch me, to get away (to this, I admit that I told a child such a thing, but I didn’t scream it), and so many others. To this end, Mayor Crank tries to prove his claim that our presence directly causes chaos in Lade, just like the sandstorm. I can’t believe the moderator is allowing this kind of argument because it has literally nothing to do with the topic.

It gets to the point where Hans Belostrer slams his folder onto the table, shutting the mayor and I up completely. Then, he says, “This is going nowhere. Both of you, stay on topic, or I will force everyone to take a recess.”

Mayor Crank adjusts his fedora before crossing his arms, silent.

I offer up my thoughts. “Mirei and I are in no way allies with the conjuror of the sandstorm. While the sand didn’t freeze me in time or drain my lifespan, it still attacked me and messed up my magic. Therefore, there’s hardly a relationship between us.”

“Since you seem to believe so deeply that you and the conjuror are opposing forces, why don’t you simply say that your relationship is that of enemies?”

Whatever I was going to retort back dies in my throat.

I gulp. If I concede such a thing, then wouldn’t that mean that these people would expect me to fight against the conjuror of the sandstorm? I refuse to mess up my life any more by fighting some enemy. The longer I maintain my silence, the wider Mayor Crank’s smirk stretches.

“Don’t you want to stop the sand’s approach?”

Mirei slams the table with her fist. “Yes!”

I groan internally.

Mayor Crank nods. “Then why not enlist yourself in the Ministry of Magicians as a defender of Lade? I would sponsor you if you so wished.”

Before Mirei can open her big mouth, I slap my hand over it. Then, I quickly say, “No. Our magic is weak, remember?”

“Yet you can survive in the desert without freezing in time. There will surely be other uses for your abilities that don’t involve fighting.”

When I don’t immediately respond, Hans Belostrer taps his folder against the table twice. “Alright, enough of that. Let’s move on to the last topic.”

I fearfully glance at the adjudicator’s box. Sure enough, they’re all deep in thought, most definitely considering applying what Mayor Crank just suggested. Ugh, if they actually agree, then Mirei and I won’t be able to run away and make our own peaceful life in the middle of nowhere with no one to bother us!