[Flashback] Oh, Brother...[Limnial]

[Rovan Dermane]

27th day of Winter, AV 508 Rovan entered the hall along with the mass of people. He seated himself in the front row in the right side of the room, to the left of the opposite-facing Judge on his high wooden perch and stool. There sat his brother beside him, Lokan, a man of slightly more sturdy built than Rovan and clothes rugged of work. There sat the honored citizen in the other side of the room, who was the attacking part in this trial, a so-called victim - and beside him his obese, hired man of education to speak for his case. There sat the old judge with his wig and small, almost slitted eyes permanently narrowed to focus his sight. It was well-known that Judge Valtymore was a stern man. He was venerable of age and held many years of experiance dealing with the crimes and trifles of Zeltiva in court. Unfortunately, he was now hard-of-hearing and almost blind as a bat, though he would not let anyone else or himself admit it. The mumbling and bustle of people gathered inside started to fade, as everyone had found their seats. "Will the trialed stand up," bade the Judge hoarsely and raised his hand towards the defending side. Rovan found the judge's voice to be a little too loud-strung, as if he needed to hear himself as well through those half-deaf ears. Rovan regarded his brother rise, his long and dark chestnut hair well around his shoulders. Lokan had inherited more of their mother's brown hair colour and round physique. His close-shaven and rugged beard covered the most of his face, lined with a deep furrow of his brow and sullen pouting of his mouth, as if this whole situation was an injustice to him in itself. The judge glanced around, searching for the one in question before spotting Lokan, examinating the man through squinted and dissecting eyes before finally nodding in approval. "Read the charges," Judge Valtymore said, making an outward and effortless wave of his thin-wristed hand. A herald stepped forward with a large scroll, reading up from its written words. "Harrashment and violence comitted by Lokan Dermane, the Sailorman, in the night 20th of Winter, against Mort Tenstones, merchant and high-citizen, in the form of a punch and thereafter kicking the man whilst he lay down. An equal of seven witnesses saw this act, including a barmaid and six patrons of the Kelp tavern, who can all verify for their statements and tell the same about the occurred circumstances. Mort Tenstones demands a fair amount of mizas in compensation to his broken nose and ribs, as well as the imprisonment of Lokan Dermane." Rovan looked downwards and nodded slightly to himself, noting and imprinting each word of the persecution as well as he could. There was no question to whether his brother had done this act. The question was whether he was partially in his right to do so or if the attack was unprovoked. Trouble was that this Mort Tenstones was a rather wealthy and highesteemed merchant, who had both the coin and status in society to raise a good case against Rovan's brother. If lost, this case could bring much shame to the Dermane family. But Lokan was not only bound to Rovan as his older brother, but was also a dear friend of him, surprisingly given their very different traits. Where Rovan was sophisticated, strategic and careful, Lokan was boistrous, impulsive and daring. Their most shared attribute was likely an equally inheritated cunning they both possessed, Rovan's honed by education at the university and Lokan's shaped by streetwise learning from the alleys of the city. The herald folded the scroll and stepped back, leaving another pause with series of mumbling and low discussions from the audience. The Judge lifted his hand, which was enough to silence the crowd for now.

[Liminal]

Once the crowd was quiet, the Judge turned his head in the direction of the fat man by Mr. Tenstones. "Counsel Castle," he said, "your opening remarks."

The Counsel rose stiffly, and then waddled to a position nearer the judge. "Your Honor," he began, his voice lugubrious and faintly aggrieved, "this is an open-and-shut case of the easiest order. It's a matter that cannot be disputed that Mr. Tenstone suffered the injuries described, and the number of witnesses who can place Mr. Dermane at the scene of the crime and as the party inflicting said injuries is so high as to admit of no misidentification. I would submit, most humbly, that this crime should be punished swiftly and surely, that justice may be served and the city of Zeltiva may maintain its reputation for safety and integrity."

Noises of approval could be heard from the crowd. Zeltiva was one of the few spots of relative safety in Mizahar, and it achieved this by administering justice fairly, but with a very heavy hand. The city's prisons were legendary, and it was said of them that those who died quickly in them were the lucky ones.

The Counsel bowed to the judge, and then sat down. Mr. Tenstone had a look on his face that could only be described as smug. He had every confidence that his was a winning case, and it would serve that Dermane wretch right. He was looking forward to seeing the fellow cast into prison, preferably not to see the light of day again. That was the proper way of things, after all.

The judge banged his gavel. "Thank you, Counsel Castle," he said flatly, his voice still far too loud. "Mr. Dermane, your opening statement please, addressing the charges and the matter of your innocence or guilt. Approach the bench."

[Rovan Dermane]

Lokan approached the bench slowly. He took a look on those in view of him, leaving a moment of pause. "Your Honor," he started as well, "As much as I regret that night, I only acted as any man would to defend his honor," he glanced briefly over his shoulder to Rovan, who nodded acceptingly. It was what Rovan had told him to say. "I know it was not - befitting to do as I did. But Tenstones rose a challenge he coulden't handle, and which I, Gods forbid, could not resist. However this turns out, I only hope to see that justice is done fairly, to the both of us". Rovan frowned slightly as he regarded his brother. His brother would never had been able to be so diplomatic, without the persistant urging of Rovan before they had entered the hall. Lokan stood for a moment, turning slightly to the sides as if he needed to say more, but restrained himself. "That is all I have to say." Rovan tensed in his seat. He prepared himself to arise, as his mind started to work on different elements of argumentation. Soon enough, he would be bidded to rise and question his "client", if he had understood correctly about the rituals of the court. Whilst sitting and laying tactiques, Rovan noted a brief, sly look on Tenstones' face. This was about revenge to Mort Tenstones, and he seemed rather certain on its sucess. Rovan made a silent prayer that he would come to see the look of defeat in his despicable face.

[Liminal]

The judge nodded wearily to Lokan. "Very well. Counsel Castle, your argument."

The Counsel stood again, and breathlessly puttered over to the judge. "Your Honor, we live in a civil society, one of the few in Mizahar that has pulled itself from the ashes into a state of order. Without the rule of law, we're no better than Sunberth. The law provides that a person who has been slandered may seek redress from the courts. It does not, however, provide that anything another person says, save a threat of violence that is believed to be imminent, can be countered with physical blows. How long would our society survive if this were the case?"

He motioned Mr. Tenstones over, and made the formal request, "Do you swear to tell the truth of the matter, on pain of death?" After being answered in the affirmative, the Counsel spoke.

"Did you, Mr. Tenstones, physically assault Mr. Dermane?"

"No, Counsel. Quite the contrary."

"Did you threaten Mr. Dermane with imminent assault?"

"No, I did not."

The Counsel looked up at the judge. "Your Honor, what other questions can there be?"

The judge nodded gravely. "Mr. Dermane, have you any questions for Mr. Tenstone?"