Open [The Great Bazaar] Stolen Innocence.

[Timothy Mered]

60th of Summer 515AV

It had happened so quickly. Only his third time into the city after he'd been welcomed to the Orphanage and already bad luck had caught up with him. He'd just been sniffing the sickly sweet scent of black honey tobacco at the Great Bazaar and out of nowhere two youthful, lanky men had come sprinting, set their wide, fearful eyes on him and shoved a large, golden cup into his hands. Dumbfounded he'd clutched the heavy, priceless cup to his chest, half-expecting them to stop and explain themselves. Instead the two men, one dark-haired and a blonde, near bald one, legged it.

"Wha-?" was all Timothy managed to say.

Not far behind was the heavy clattering if iron boots. "Halt!" A voice cried in the distance. "Stop the thief!" Like arrows piercing his skin he could feel a thousand eyes stab at him. Three knights were shouldering their way through the thick crowd like a knife through syrup. Had they approached calmly, perhaps he would've remained standing. Instead the knights had their swords unsheathed and their thunderous gaze fixated upon him.

His limbs connected the dots faster than his mind could. There was only one response. His veins bursted into flame as he kicked off and bumped his way through a sea of legs. Left and right he ran, stumbled and jumped his way through, holding the golden cup close like a shield.

"You've nowhere to run!"

The voice was closer. Timothy already saw the light at the end of the bazaar. Outside I can lose them, he kept saying to himself. It was far too late to stop running now. An Eypharian merchant gasped in horror as he slid underneath the table of her stand and jumped right back up, shattering some ceramics in the process. Timothy paid her no mind. He could only think of running until either his legs or his heart would give out.

No sooner than he'd dashed through several expensive tapestries a large, gruff hand snapped around his right upper arm. A mere tick later his left was trapped too.

"Give that back," a stern voice said, his pointy chin jutting towards.

"B-b-ut I didn't steal anything, I swear!" It was only now that desperation began to trickle in.

"Then why do you have the cup?" The commander inquired.

"I-it was given to me..."

"No, you stole it. We saw you run with it."

"Please," Timothy pushed the cup into the soldier's hands. "I had nothing to do with this. There were two others..."

The knight, tall and blessed with handsome curly blonde hair raised his voice and addressed the rapidly growing circle around Timothy and the other two knights. "Any witnesses?" The commander inquired from the gathered audience. "Anyone saw what happened from start to finish?"

[Jeremy Casing]

This was all precisely why Jeremy disliked visiting Syliras. It was busy, loud, bustling. The city proper was more fast-paced that the quiet Mithryn Post, where the Kelvic resided. Both its crowds and its surrounding walls made him feel oppressed, caged.

Add to this the ever-present feeling of chaos and confusion that clung to Jeremy's mind and the end result was a real-life nightmare for him. People everywhere, pushing and shouting. He didn't know how to react or behave. And so he walked. He wandered the streets stiffly, neither speaking to nor looking at other people, unless of course they made the first move and opened up a conversation with him. But if they did, it was usually to bark some insult or advertisement for their market stall. In such instances, Jeremy would usually nod awkwardly and shuffle off.

So why had he come to the city? There were two reasons. Primarily, his work as a Phylonurist begged Jeremy to do what he could to restore the balance of nature. In Syliras, this was close to impossible. The oppressive walls of the city kept wild animals out, as well as much of the day's sunlight. He tried his best to encourage the denizens of Syliras to think about nature, to pollute the waters and surrounding land less and to make their four-legged housemates (or six-legged, sometimes) feel more welcome.

His teachings were never appreciated.

Jeremy had also visited the city to make purchases. He had a frequent houseguest now, and the Kelvic liked to try and make his humble abode more welcoming for her. Flowers frequently decorated his kitchen table and he'd purchased a rug to cover up the worse of the bald spots on his living room carpet. Even Jester, his canine companion, had received a much-despised bath in order to keep up Jeremy's new standards of cleanliness.

Today, he'd gone a step further and bought several new garments. His purchases consisted of a blue linen shirt, a pair of dark britches that were sure to attract all of Jester's stray hairs, a pair of leather shoes and a pair of woollen slippers. He'd never spent so much money on himself before, and despite half of his new clothes not fitting his slim frame particularly well, the Kelvic had an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

That is, until he saw a gathering of guards surrounding a young boy. A frown crossed his pointed face and Jeremy inched closer, amber eyes scanning those around him as he tried to catch on to what had happened.

No, you stole it. We saw you run with it.

A young thief, then. Jeremy was about to turn his back to the child, to allow the legal system to deal with him, when he heard the boy reply. Unsurprisingly, he denied the accusations laid against him, but something in the lad's voice made the Kelvic turn around. Not only that, but he was returning the stolen item to the guards. A cup -- a strange thing for a child to steal. Where would a young boy sell such an item without arousing suspicions?

The guards turned to face the growing crowds, enquiring as to whether anyone could serve as a witness to clarify this matter. Despite the fact he hadn't seen a thing, Jeremy felt himself take a step out of the line of people he stood amongst and raise his hand. "Yes. I am." He spoke slowly, buying himself more time to gather his thoughts and to come up with a realistic story. "That cup--" he gestured to the thing in the guard's hand, "--was stolen from my family home two nights ago. My sister--" How easy the lies were spilling out of his mouth! Maybe I ought to turn to amateur dramatics if I survive this. "--said that the assailants were two large men, both with beards. This lad must have seen our notices, and was merely running to return the item to us."

Jeremy finally glanced to the lad, hoping beyond hope that he would catch onto this ridiculous tale without revealing the honest truth.

Ledger-1SM for 1 linen shirt, -8SM for dark britches, -6SM for leather shoes, 10SM/1GM for woollen slippers.

TOTAL PURCHASES: 2GM, 5SM.

[Timothy Mered]

Heads turned to face the lanky, hawk-like figure that had stepped forward. The Commander, a middle-aged man with a gaunt, bony face, approached the witness with two confident strides. His stern eyes narrowed as he cocked his head to inspect the oddity that had spoken up. Justice was what counted in Syliras. If the man was speaking the truth the commander would only have the greatest respect for him, but his tired bones told him it was not the case. A curt nod was given to one of the other Knights, a young, tall fellow clad in shiny new armor.

"He's lying. Seize him." The young Knight obeyed immediately and grabbed Jeremy's arm. "Not to worry Sir, we'll just have some questions for you."

Without another word, the commander spun around on his heels and stared Timothy down. "Do you know this man?"

Grass green eyes flitted over to the narrow broomstick of a man. He'd never seen him before, not even in passing. Yet the man had spoken up on his behalf. Lied even. Had it just been kindness or did the man actually know him? In the end, Timothy shook his head. "No, I don't know who he is."

"And what do you think of his tale?"

Timothy bit his lip. What the narrow-faced man had said was a lie, that much he knew, but it would be unkind to repay the stranger by calling it such. Instead, he merely shrugged. "Dunno."

"Hmmpf," the commander grumbled and nodded firmly. "I will get to the bottom of this, but not here." He waved the third knight over, a woman with short, brown hair and slanted eyes, who mirrored her male counterpart by seizing Timothy's upper arm. In the meantime, the commander shooed the crowd away.

Unless Jeremy resisted, in which case he'd be beaten into submission and cuffed, they walked in relative silence for no more than ten chimes. It wasn't long before they were led into a small room in a dungeon of sorts. The scent of parchment and ink lingered heavily in the air. Both Jeremy and Timothy were invited to sit in two sturdy wooden chairs opposite a more expensive one at the other end of a desk.

"Well, well, well. This is quite the unusual arrest I must say. At least one of you is lying, that's certain," his eyes settled on Jeremy. "We came directly from the merchant whose cup -this cup- was stolen after all. I have no idea why you made up the story, good man, but I do not take kindly to lies."

A heavy silence engulfed the room before he continued. "But that's beside the point for now. First I'll have both your names and residence, then I'll have some more questions." The surly commander picked up a quill and a fresh sheet of parchment and muttered the date under his breath before looking back up again.

"Let's start with the boy. What's your name?"

"Timothy, Sir."

"Surname?"

"Mered."

"And where do you live, Timothy Mered?"

"The Welcome Home."

At this, the commander's face lit up. "Ah, one of the Orphans eh? Can't say this is the first time your lot is giving me trouble." He shook his head in bitter disappointment. "You should feel ashamed. After all that Aenysa has done for you, you lower yourself to common thievery? Such a shame..."

"I didn't steal it," Timothy hissed through clenched teeth.

"I'd love to hear your explanation in just a moment. First," he turned to Jeremy now, "what's your name and where in the city do you reside? While we're at it, may I inquire as to why you decided to lie to my face? Have you no respect for the law?"

[Gwin]

OOCHi, I'm joining as suggested by Tim. Hope my post turned out alright!


The Akvatari had left her violin at the inn, an unusual occurrence, to visit the Great Bazaar. Their departure from Syliras was imminent and had born a desire in her to explore the most exotic parts of the fortress city. Truth be told, she wasn’t used to short visits. Riverfall had tied her for a whole year, the longest she’d ever stayed in one place other than Abura, and she’d gotten used to having time. With Syliras, there didn’t seem to be much to see at first glance, but she still had an uncanny feeling that she didn’t know enough yet… that she’d only just started to understand the place.

Thus the bazaar, a conglomerate of traveling merchants, resident traders and citizens. The knights were there, of course, as they had their eyes everywhere. While feeling some pouches and satchels with beautiful floral patterns stitched into the fabric, she jumped at the sound of shattering ceramic. Turning around, Gwin thought she’d glimpsed a familiar face in the crowd. The boy had looked over his shoulder for just a tick, but that was enough.

The boy from Riverfall, the boy who’d tried to steal her precious violin. Thomas, no? Her wings were already carrying the Akvatari through the crowd, then over their heads and a few stands. From afar she saw the boy standing with a slender young man and three knights. Before she could come closer, the two were herded off by the knights with angry gestures. Gold flashed briefly.

Gwin wasn’t even sure if he was the same boy. Riverfall was far away and the journey tedious, even more so for bipedals. On the other hand, their meeting had been quite some time ago, enough time for the boy to get to Syliras. If it really was him, however, she wanted to know what had become of the hesitant thief.

An odd mixture of curiosity and responsibility moved her wings as the Akvatari followed them through the corridors lit by flickering torches. The steady stream of people turned into a trickle before the knights shoved the two males through a door. Gwin stared at it for a moment, considering her options. The boy’s light voice carried through the wood and reached her trained ears. Timothy Mered. Her excellent memory of sound would never betray her – it was the boy. He’d lied about his name which didn’t come as a surprise.

At the same time, something in his tone was different. Maybe time had distorted her memory, but Gwin couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d changed somehow. Other voices could be heard, but they were too deep and low for her to understand.

If she wanted to know more, she had to act. Hovering in front of the door, Gwin knocked. In an unfamiliar city, she didn’t expect for her testimony to weigh much, but she was an Akvatari musician. Most people knew what that meant. The female knight opened and behind her, the boy’s face peeked at the unexpected visitor. It was him, no doubt. “Greetings. I am Gwin, a visitor to this city, and I saw you with this boy at the bazaar. I’ve met him before and was worried since he seemed to be in trouble. Is there any way I can help?”

[Jeremy Casing]

Well, that backfired horribly.

Despite the apparent dangerousness and illegality of the situation he had found himself in, Jeremy felt oddly calm and bemused about the whole ordeal. He'd gone out on an unexpected limb to try and help a child - one he'd even never met before - and instead thrown himself into the deep end. Now Jeremy was being tussled and hauled down the streets of Sylias, presumably to some office place for further questioning.

The Kelvic shot a glance to the young lad, the cause of all this trouble. Perhaps he should be annoyed at the boy, for not picking up on his (terrible) lie, and instead contradicting everything Jeremy had said in his defence. But the Witch couldn't muster up enough agro to be frustrated, or even disheartened.

He watched the streets of Syliras pass him by at a pace quicker than his usual stride, seeing the puzzled and entertained faces of the city's denizens turn to inspect the criminals that were being dragged before them. But a boy and a milky-skinned man were hardly bloodthirsty murders; whatever crime the two had apparently committed was worth only a casual glance and a quirked eyebrow. Which was probably just as well, really.

They were taken into a room, and Jeremy forcibly pushed down onto a rather uncomfortable wooden seat. For a tick, he glanced around himself, engaging and observing the layout of the room and the Commanding knight that now sat opposite them. How many rapists and kidnappers had sat on the same chair that Jeremy perched awkwardly on now?

Surely there are more important things for these men to do doing...

He listened at the boy beside him gave his name and address. An orphan. Jeremy felt his heartstrings tug meagrely, but swallowed down any pity he may have otherwise felt. The Commander turned to him, requesting the same information from Jeremy, as well as his excuse for previously lying to the other knights.

"Jeremy Casing. From the Mithryn." He replied. That was the easy part; why exactly had he lied? His amber eyes slid from the face of the husky Commander to wards Timothy. The Kelvic was sure that the boy was telling the truth; that he hadn't stolen the cup. He was almost sure that he'd seen another man force the cup onto the boy before running off, meaning that the lad had been used as nothing more than a scapegoat.

He swallowed. It had been half a chime since he had given his name and address. The silence stretched out tautly in front of him. "I didn't want--"

But a knock on the door thankfully interrupted him. He turned swiftly towards the sound, trying to hide his relieved smile from the Commanding knight and to also see who had knocked upon the door. A woman, clearly not a knight (a welcome sight to Jeremy), entered the small room. After a brief introduction, she claimed that she knew the boy and offered her assistance. Jeremy inspected her face and body -- a unique form indeed! A woman's head, a seal's tail, a pair of wings that belonged to no bird he knew of. Turning back to the Commanding Knight, the Kelvic sunk lower in his chair and hoped he would somehow miraculously turn invisible.

[Timothy Mered]

Important!Gwin, Jeremy: please wait for Plume to post first! Also, sorry for the delay!

Timothy was certain he heard a distinct crack as the commander snapped his head towards the door. Who in Sylir’s name was so rude to disturb the official investigation like that? The commander’s face displayed annoyance, then surprise, and then even more annoyance as he discovered that the unwanted visitor wasn’t some pesky squire lacking manners. The woman introduced herself as Gwin and claimed to know the boy. This was getting stranger and stranger by the chime.

Before the commander could even grumble a reply however, the lightest voice in the room interjected.

“Look,” Timothy started with a heavy sigh, “just because I tried to nick something off her once doesn’t mean I took that cup. I didn’t…I swear I didn’t!” How exactly the knights had managed to find Gwin from Riverfall so fast, he didn’t know. But the moment he saw her he was convinced they had brought her in deliberately, to make him confess. It was only a tick after he’d finished blurting his confession that he realized her presence might’ve been coincidence. In which case he’d only made matters worse for himself.

The commander cleared his throat, let his thunderous gaze slide over all assembled, then cleared his throat again. “Well, I never! So we have an admitted thief and orphan, a liar, and this strange…thing of a woman and…” He shook his head and glanced up at his subordinate knights, but they looked equally confused by the entire ordeal.

“We’ll let the council deal with this,” the commander mumbled, then repeated it once more out loud. “If you’ll all follow me…” It wasn’t a question. Once again they were being herded through countless corridors. Timothy kept his head down all the way, weighted down by guilt. The desire to apologize to Gwin, who genuinely seemed to want to help him, gnawed at him, but he couldn’t muster the courage to speak up and talk to her.

Soon enough the company halted in a rather large and dark corridor. A handful of torches lit up the faces of four wings of Knights. Some were sitting and chatting, some were playing a game, and a few stood at attention.
The commander whispered a few words into the ears of a very broad and bulky knight with a heavy keychain dangling from his belt.

“Understood,” the janitor knight said gruffly before turning his attention to the sorry lot gathered before him. “Welcome to The Tank,” he grinned. “The council will see your shortly. Any disturbances caused within are punishable by death. Enjoy your stay.”

Without another word he turned around and opened the squeaky iron gate leading into the circular room beyond. A cold wind seemed to come from within the tank and though Timothy would’ve much rather stayed in the light, his legs carried him forward automatically. The janitor’s stern gaze was enough to achieve that.

It wasn’t until the gate closed behind them and he was certain that talking was allowed, judging by the murmuring of other prisoners, that he finally spoke to Jeremy and Gwin. He started by extending his hand to Jeremy. “You already know my name, but hello anyway. I’m sorry you’ve gotten all wrapped up in this.” He turned to face Gwin, a flicker of pain flashed across his features. “I’m sorry for you to. It really wasn’t me though. Not this time.”

He paused for a few moments and looked around. There weren’t many other people inside, but those that were didn’t look like hardened criminals. An old man, a toothless beggar, and a middle-aged woman with fierce red hair were the most suspicious looking prisoners.

Timothy sighed. Being locked up in a cold, dark room was feeling all too familiar.

[Plume]

Within the well lit Council Chamber in the Second Tier of Stormhold Citadel sat three starkly contrasting individuals. They didn't so much loom as they sat, quietly and stoically, observing from their seats. A brief had been sent ahead of time regarding the new case at hand--a petty matter from the sound of it but peculiar nonetheless--though, as always, the Council of Three preferred to hear these kinds of testimonies and accusations first hand.

The first, seated on the left, was the eldest of the three. Most of his grizzled face was covered by course whiskers more grey than black and he had crags on his face as deep and dry as a mountain's surface. Though Nehim Irandel was rumored to be close to retirement, age did nothing if not hone the penetrating look in his eyes. Of the three who occupied those ominous seats before the Chamber, Nehim was the most likely to sniff out a liar before one so much as uttered a word. The old knight had years upon years of experience, as well as multiple god marks, to back his assessments. In short, he was not a man you should ever want or attempt to fool.

On the other side sat another knight. Except this one was much younger, somewhere in his mid thirties and yet to bear all of the scars and wisdom to mark the passage of time. He was however the image of discipline and exuded an aura of deadly calm. Fredir Stalinsa was without a doubt a true warrior, and though he was also new to his Council position he treated his duties with utmost severity. He typically did not believe in pity and would most likely show none to those about to stand trial.

Last but not least, there was Grace Njimi. She sat in the middle, as usual, her position as High Councilor unquestioned and untested. As a Priestess of Eyris and Favored of Priskil, Grace was an uncompromising balance between justice and mercy. She sat between the two knights with a serious expression and curious twinkle in her eye. The one charged with theft was an orphan boy from the Welcome Home, this they all knew in advance. But Grace knew better than her two fellow Council members how the truth could sometimes hold much more than what met the eye at first glance. She would show no favoritism, no weakness, no light heartededness in the decision to come. But she would also uphold fairness and truth.

And so it was that as a handful of people slowly began to trickle into the room, The Three sat in silent observance. Waiting for everyone necessary to be present before the trial could begin in earnest. Once all members were present, including the knights who had first arrested the orphan, the great double doors closed with a thud, and Councilor Njimi addressed the chamber in her wise, crystalline voice.

"The trial shall henceforth begin, now that all parties are present. A report has already been brought to us detailing the events that have led up to Timothy Mered and Jeremy Casing's arrest. Since Timothy has no relations to speak on his behalf, we have allowed Gwin to stand in. Her word will be weighed along with her lack of actual familial or otherwise intimate ties. Should there be no other issues to raise before we begin, the accused will now be allowed to give their testimonies, starting with the one facing charges of thievery."

All eyes were on Timothy as one of the guards prodded him to stand before The Three. Once he was finished, the same would be done for the rest of those bearing testimony, Jeremy to follow and Gwin at the very end. The Council said nothing during all three testimonies, withholding final judgment until all sides were heard.

[Timothy Mered]

The hall he was led into was as cool as the eyes of the judges, high up in their seats. The only hint of warmth came from the color of the wooden benches and ornaments. For a little while the muffled drumming of footsteps echoed across the room. A whisper, a cough. Then he was seated and all was blanketed in suffocating silence. He kept his eyes firmly trained on his feet as a tingling cold crept step by step down the arch of his back. It wasn’t the first time he’d been caught, only this time he was innocent, and this time there was no option of escape. Upon having entered Syliras the laws had been made crystal clear to him and he remembered with a shudder how strict he’d deemed them to be, how he had promised himself to avoid trouble this time around.

The female councilor’s clear-cut voice shook him from his thoughts before the leaden weight of silence loomed once more. A prod in his side made his eyes shoot up towards the judges. He didn’t want to stand. He wanted to sink into the ground and disappear like an ant between the crevices of the polished wooden floor. Yet he rose onto the tip of his toes and clutched the banister before him with both hands. Mouth slightly agape the first few words he offered to the councilors were but an indistinguishable muttering. Swallowing down a gulp he scraped together what courage he could find and restarted.

“It wasn’t me. I can’t prove it, but it wasn’t me. I was just walking down the bazaar when a men- no, two men came running out of nowhere and one of them shoved the cup, the golden cup, into my hands. Then the guards came,” he shot a nervous glance at the commander, “and then they asked for witnesses and he came along.” Timothy turned to face Jeremy. “I don’t know him. He said the cup was stolen from his sister and something about notices and that I was about to return the cup to him.” With pudding for knees he clutched the bannister even tighter and returned his gaze to the councilors. “It’s a lie. I didn’t steal the cup or took it to bring it back. It was just pressed into my hands and-“

He stopped there, shooting a glance over his shoulder to face Gwin and Jeremy. It’s my fault, he thought bitterly. Because of him Jeremy and Gwin were now dragged into trouble, and who could tell what punishment awaited them? The councilors didn’t strike him as very forgiving and though he had a hard time imagining what might befall Gwin, he knew that Jeremy would at the very least be reprimanded for lying to the city guard. The two adults both had been trying to help him in their own way and allowing their names to be slandered would be a poor way of repaying them. It’s all my fault…

“I want to confess,” he mumbled, then looked up towards the councilors. “I confess,” he said with as much boldness as he could muster. Brows furrowed upwards in a pleading look, “I took the cup from a merchant when he wasn’t looking and meant to sell it for a few mizas. Jeremy and Gwin have nothing to do with this.”

They would probably protest, but he wouldn't let them. "They'll even lie to try and help me, but you must not believe them! I don't know them and I don't know why they're trying to help, but I swear upon my mother's grave: they're innocent."

With a sigh he plonked down on the bench and waited for Jeremy to speak.

[Jeremy Casing]

Once again, everything happened very quickly. They were herded into yet another room, accompanied by more knights. Only this time it was no normal room that Jeremy found himself standing in, but a jail cell. Complete with a thuggish-looking prison knight and overlarge key. The Kelvic stood, aghast, at the iron barred front of the cell. Blood rushed through his ears, drowning out all sounds save for the janitor knight's casual threat:

Any disturbances caused within are punishable by death.

By death!

Jeremy touched the side of his face with deft, shaking hands. Yes, this was all unfortunately real. What was the definition of a disturbance? Was he breathing too loudly? He tried to inhale deeply, quietly. But then a lungful of stale dust filled his nostrils and the Phylonurist instinctively coughed and spluttered. He frantically clasped a clammy hand tightly over his mouth to stop any further sounds from escaping. His skin, if possible, paled even more.

A distant sound pulled Jeremy back to reality. He looked blinkingly to his side, seeing the very cause of all this trouble standing next to him with an extended hand. His grief-stricken expression did not change as the Kelvic stared down at the boy. Despite the deterioration of Jeremy's confidence and hope about the current situation, he still found himself unable to be annoyed. He was just a lad, after all. "No, don't apologise. It's alright," he said, but Jeremy's tone was not convincing. It was quite clear that the jail knight's threat was still hanging darkly over his mind.

Only when Timothy addressed Gwin did Jeremy remember the woman's presence. Somewhat guiltily, he turned in her direction and offered his hand. "Jeremy Casing. Do you two--" He flickered a finger in the space between Gwin and Timothy, "--know each other?"

But their conversations would never take truly off, as once again Jeremy found himself soon dragged to another location. It wasn't until Counsilor Njimi spoke that he realised that he was attending his own trial. Once again, he found himself in the depth of an intense panic. This was all so wrong! He'd been trying to help a child -- how had that landed him in this trouble? Silently, he clasped his hands together and said a prayer to Oriana, in hopes that she would offer him and Timothy some protection and good luck.

And then the lad spoke. And to be fair, Jeremy admired Timothy for his bravery. He spoke candidly, though it was quite obvious - and understandable - that he was nervous. When he was a child, Jeremy would have never had the courage to speak so openly and honestly a group of adults. He would have shied away, fearful of dangerous consequences that probably would not have even happened. Gods, it was still a possibility that when it came to Jeremy's turn to speak, the Kelvic would cry, vomit, or just have a mental breakdown right there and then.

If he can talk so frankly, so can you, Jeremy.

The stern voice in his said sounded a lot like his mother's. The Kelvic gulped, watched Timothy continue to say his testimony, though the blood rushing around Jeremy’s ears drowned the boy’s voice out. When he sat down, Jeremy felt a jab in the ribs that indicated it was his turn to stand up and speak to the Counsilors. He stood, and as he did, his left hand briefly touched the gnosis mark on his right forearm. He sought bravery and confidence from the mark, and as soon as his fingertips brushed the complex tattoo, he felt his panic subside.

"I am blessed by Caiyha, and as such I try to live not only by her rule, but that of her children as well. When I see a child in the risk of danger, I feel I cannot stand by and do nothing." He watched the faces of the Counsilor's before him, searching for any trace of a positive reaction to his words. There was not one, but Jeremy tried to stop this from puncturing his newfound confidence too much. Briefly, his amber eyes flickered to a fluttering shadow in the corner of a room: a moth. How he wished to reach out and to converse with the insect via Nura! He sighed tiredly. "For that reason, I found myself having to lie to protect Timothy. I do not believe he stole the cup. Though I did not see him until he was being questioned by the guards, I was in the general area. Briefly, very briefly, there was a..." he searched for the right word, ending somewhat flatly on, "--kafuffle. Like someone was in a great rush to get out of there. Someone larger than a child, by any means. I believe that Timothy is nothing more than a scapegoat here, and that's why I lied. It was wrong, I know -- I apologise for that. But I felt it my duty, as a Phylonurist, to defend those who need it. At whatever cost."

As his statement concluded, Jeremy found himself breathing heavily, as if he had just run a mile. He was exhausted, stressed. All he wanted was to get out of here and escape back out to the Mithryn.

[Gwin]

Gwin was used to the odd stares, although most people kept their derogatory words to themselves and only whispered behind her back. Obviously the knights were confused and overwhelmed by the situation, nevertheless they came to a conclusion and led the trio deeper into the citadel. Once in the tank, the Akvatari simply sat down on the cold stone floor, protected by the thick green fur of her tail.

She studied Timothy carefully. The flicker of emotion in his features was enough to make her believe him. The message she’d tried to convey seasons ago in Riverfall seemed to have reached him through different means. Now that he was the one trying to convince her of his innocence, she simply nodded.

Despite the circumstances, the other man introduced himself politely. Shaking his hand lightly, Gwin offered a bit of a sad smile. “I’m Gwin. Aye, we met in Riverfall.” Glancing back at Timothy, she decided not to mention the circumstances surrounding their first meeting. Therefore she stayed silent, occasionally humming to herself, until they were fetched from the cell.

Upon entering the council chamber, Gwin observed the unfamiliar surroundings with curiosity. Having never cared much for the laws and punishments of places she’d visited, she was confronted with the one thing she’d always managed to avoid for herself. As an Akvatari, she didn’t quite understand the peculiar need of bipedals to choose a sovereign or government, urging them to formulate rules to regulate their social life. How could humans and other races rob themselves of freedom like that? As an Akvatari, she also tended to forget that bipedals weren’t nearly as pacifistic and individual agreements didn’t always work out between them.

As a mere witness in the case, she didn’t feel particularly threatened and observed the happenings with unveiled interest. When Timothy spoke, however, she listened carefully and focused on every word. Since she’d chosen to trust him earlier, naturally she’d back his claims and try to help him as much as she could. His story sounded reasonable too which, as Gwin supposed, was an important point. Then… the turnaround. Her eyes widened a little, but apart from that her features remained expressionless. She barely heard what Jeremy said, too caught up in shock. As far as she was concerned, trying to protect them had been the stupidest thing the boy could’ve done.

She did, however, catch his last words and the silence after them, beckoning her to speak. Beating her large turquoise butterfly wings, she came to hover in front of the council. “I met Timothy two seasons ago in Riverfall. We didn’t meet under the best of conditions. I saw others judge him by what he did without looking for the reasons that drove him. As I thought that to be less than fair, I decided to forgive and help him. At that time, I supposed he’d been treated badly by others, but still had some good left in him. I believed he wasn’t mischievous by nature, merely misguided.”

Pausing, she took a deep breath for the core of her statement. “I didn’t witness what happened, so I don’t know whether Timothy stole that cup or not. Despite that, I don’t think he did it. What he said earlier… that he wishes to take the blame only to protect Jeremy and me from punishment, isn’t that proof of his good intentions? I only ask you to consider my words and give him a second chance.” She tilted her head in an awkward bow. “Thank you for your attention.”

Eventually she returned to her stone seat and glanced at the judges. Had she found the right words to address them? Had she sounded confident and certain enough? Licking her lips, Gwin suddenly missed her violin. A song would’ve conveyed the message so much better…