55 - Fourfold Court

  “Lord Barrister,” Azbekt croaked.

  The minotaur was huge on a scale Joe’s mind had a hard time accepting. It was one thing to see giant beings in movies; having them standing right over you was a whole ‘nother thing.

  The Lord Barrister’s head was at least eight feet off the ground, with his twin jutting horns adding another yard of height. The hoof closest to Joe would have covered the majority of his chest. Joe doubted he could even lift the heavy crimson chestpiece the colossus wore. The plate mail suit was adorned with the symbol of weighing scales, as well as almost a dozen golden stars that were clearly some form of rank.

  “The stink of injustice pulled me from my duties. I followed its foul trail here and found you trampling this man’s rights. All here heard this man proclaim a Fourfold Court, champion. You would deny Ekwiti her due?” the massive creature seethed.

  “Please, your honor. This is no man. He is almost surely an agent of the Veiled Courts. As such, he has no claim to a Fourfold Court,” the dwarf groveled, looking up at the titanic armored form looming over him. “You and the faithful of Glauri and Onhur need not concern yourselves with this matter.”

  “Do you question my nose, champion?” the taurian war-priest rumbled, swiping a finger against the end of his thick snout. “If he had no claim, then why does his forced removal from the square reek of inequity?”

  “It …” Azbezkt began, before he was cut off by the Lord Barrister.

  “I am not looking for a plausible excuse, brother. I am telling you. Ekwiti is certain this man is due the court he has called for, hence he cannot be a fey. If that is your only charge against him, then I would dismiss your hold on him now, but I will not presume on Onhur’s and Glauri’s behalf. He has made his declaration here before the Hundred Gods. We will have a Fourfold Court, now.”

  “Yes, of course. Of course,” the red-skin dwarf stammered. “The Hall of the Celestial Throne is just ahead, your lordship,” the faltering Phealtian suggested, pointing at the austere gray and gold church he had been dragging Joe toward. “Let us finish the journey there and then gather the other two courts to join us.”

  “That won’t be necessary, myrmidon,” a regal voice interrupted. They all turned to see a matronly human woman dressed in an impeccable velvet dress with a mantel of gold cloth around her shoulders. Her gray head of hair was tied into an elaborate bun with jeweled chain accents. Just a step behind the gentlewoman was the welcome sight of a very smug-looking Hah’roo.

  The minotaur's anger was immediately reined in, and he tipped his great horned head to the woman in a courtly fashion. “Marchess Randeau,” his deep voice uttered in greeting.

  “Lord Barrister Theodanis,” she replied with a small curtseying dip. “We have three officers of the four courts here now. As the declaration was made before all these ministers of the Hundred Gods, it is only fitting they be our witnesses.”

  “I think it’s a capital idea m’lady. What say you, …” the minotaur started to ask. His face fell into a scowl as he failed to get anything more than one word from his [Identify], “… Joe? Would you have your case heard here and now, before the servants of the gods, both high and low? Or would you prefer a formal trial in the Hall of Phealti?”

  “Here’s good!” Joe blurted vehemently. The last thing he wanted was to get dragged into the lair of Azbekt’s fanatical order.

  “Very well, then we just need one more to complete us.” Theodanis rumbled. Looking out over the throng of clergyfolk, the minotaur searched for a few seconds until he spotted what he was seeking. Stretching out an arm as long as Joe was tall, the Lord Barrister pointed. “You there, lass. Come and join us.”

  From somewhere behind the wall of bodies surrounding the group, Joe heard a meek voice squeak, “Me, your lordship?”

  “Yes, priestess. Onhur needs a voice among us. As Telemont Square seemed oddly bereft of your brothers and sisters, I think Oathkeeper wishes you to be his emissary.”

  The crowd parted, and a young fox woman in her late teens slipped through the gap. She was wearing a brown friar’s robe but Joe could hear the rustling of chainmail coming from her as she closed the distance. As she approached, he could see the chain shirt peeking out from the edges of her coarsely woven robe. A blue priestly stole marked with white runes hung from the young woman’s shoulders. Her thick russet tail with its white tip flicked rapidly back and forth, mirroring her anxiously wringing hands.

  “But your lordship. I am just an acolyte. I can’t …”

  “Have you given your oath to Onhur, sister?” Lady Randeau asked gently.

  “Yes, but …”

  “Then, you are as worthy as I, the myrmidon, or even the Lord Barrister himself. Just do your best, dear, and I’m sure you shall acquit yourself with honor.”

  Behind the noblewoman, Joe saw Hah’roo, beaming a bright smile while discreetly pointing at the Marchess and throwing him a thumbs up. Whoever this woman was, she clearly had the rope-dancers seal of approval.

  “Then it is settled,” the taurian declared. “Let us begin. Let this Fourfold Court commence. I, the Lord Barrister of Ekwiti, the Bringer of Justice, swear this quadrunal shall be fair.”

  Taking up the cadence of the oaths, the noble lady spoke next. “I am the Marchess Amaya Randeau, Bishop of Glauri, the Goddess of Law and the Virtuous Rule. Our verdict shall be incontestable.”

  The manacle-wielding bully was next. “I am Azbekt Vanderaxe, Champion of Phealti, Scourge of Unhallowed Insurgents. I swear all within this proceeding shall be proper.”

  Joe’s heart went out to the kitsune-youth. She looked completely terrified. “Um. I am Mazsy Eskamoon. Acolyte of Ohnur, the Keeper of Oaths and Truths. Um. I swear to …” A look of panic crossed her face until Lady Randeau leaned over and whispered beside her tall, pointed ears. “I swear that no falsehood shall be unchallenged and no pledge forsworn,” Mazsy finished, throwing a grateful look to the Marchess.

  “Sir Vanderaxe, I assume you will be amenable to declaring the charges against this man for us?”

  Azbekt withdrew a folded page from one of his belt pouches. As he fanned it open, the giant war-priest recoiled, bringing the back of his arm up infront of his nose.

  “Urg. That page is the stench which drew me here. Whatever that declaration holds, champion, it is dripping with bias and disparity. Please hand the sheet to Acolyte Eskamoon. I would know if those words are true.”

  The kistune took the parchment and began to run her hands across it. As she did so, she cocked her head, as if listening for something. She started over several times, looking more and more nervous after each pass.

  “I’m sorry, M’lord, but I am only in my first year of Objective Veracity. There is definitely something untrue here, but it is lost to me beneath the potency of the writer’s subjective interpretation. I can say that whoever penned this statement believed in it fully.”

  “May I see it, please, Acolyte?” Lady Randeau asked, holding out an elegant hand for the page. She treated it the most normally of the four. She merely read it, focusing mostly on the seals at the bottom of the sheet. “The accounting is legally valid, signed and sealed by a knight of the realm in good standing and witnessed by a cleric of Glauri and the Duke himself.”

  The noblewoman handed the page back to Azbekt. The dwarf cleared his throat and began to read. “On the tenth of Blooming, Sir Groven Suttrel of Crowfield, esquire to the House of Amberwroth, Knight of the realm of Duskrug, and laureate of Phealti, witnessed a vagabond walking from the tainted swamps of Brandy Mere, home of witchery and a Feyland crossroad. This wandering stray was, and still remains, cloaked in an aura of deception and obfuscation. See for yourselves how it shields itself from honest assessment.”

  Joe had blocked the notifications that informed him of assessments, but the sheer number of appraisals that were suddenly directed at him caused a small tingle to pass through his body. He couldn’t help but squirm from the sensation of such overwhelming scrutiny.

  “Thankfully, the God of Order is not so easily thwarted,” Azbezt proclaimed. “Through Phealti’s [Vigilance], the noble knight was able to perceive the taint of the Feylands on this evasive gangrel. It was obvious to the nobleman this creature was an agent of the vile courts beyond the Veil.

  “His conclusion was proven accurate just hours later,” the dwarf continued,

  The fox girl threw her hand up like a kid in school, cutting off Azbekt’s declarations.

  “Yes, Miss Eskamoon,” The bishop of Glauri prompted.

  “Um. That statement is false, m’lady. The knight may believe he proved this man to be an agent of the fey, but that was only his belief. He did not actually establish proof.”

  “Very good. Thank you. As Onhur’s voice, you are allowed to interject, dear. You don’t need to raise your hand,” the matronly marchess gently corrected. The white fur around the young cleric’s cheeks pinkened as she gave the bishop a nod of understanding.

  “May I continue?” Azbekt huffed. “When presented with a rightful challenge for its presence among the good folk of Crowfield, this outlander attempted to foment a riot against Sir Groven.”

  “Sorry, sir. That is also untrue. The word ‘attempted’ rings false. He may have caused a riot, but it was not his intention.” Joe was beginning to love this girl. He had no idea that Groven was going to spin everything he did this badly, but a divine-powered fact-checker was a literal godsend.

  Clearly frustrated, the Phealtian resumed his briefing. “In the course of questioning the suspect, the dissident openly mocked the knight, ignoring his superior station. It was chastised for its impertinence. Rather than accept its righteous punishment, it used bewitchments to draw the peasantry together to form a mob…”

  Mazsy’s hand shot up again and then immediately swooped back down to her side. “‘Used bewitchments’ is also false. Sorry.”

  With his ruddy face growing even redder, the myrmidon forged on. “The deluded souls were nearly swayed into open rebellion against the Duke and his rule.

  “This was not the end of its intrusion. The outlander attempted to use the Hand of Fate to invade the knight’s very essence. Forestalled from slaying the abomination, Sir Groven was forced to withdraw. He had to leave the turmoil the insurgent had wrought and retreat rather than let the thief infiltrate the lineage of his noble family or the sanctity of our holy order.”

  “In summary, deceit, contempt, impropriation, breach of order, flight from justice, sedition. These are just the acts this being performed within a day of its detection. Who knows what further damage to the realm."

  'What the everloving F! How did one carelessly flippant comment become all THAT.'

  “Do you have anything to add, Joe?” the deep-voiced minotaur requested, pulling Joe out of his moment of flabbergasted disbelief.

  'Fine. Two can play this game.'

  “I do. When do we get to talk about Groven murdering me?”