The Trial of Zariel Amaru Novalight

[Aerikan]

Voices bubble up from outside the courtroom's shut doors, raising in volume until they can clearly be heard through the massive doorframes, over the murmuring lawyers. One voice pierces above the others. The judge sighs and rolls his eyes in advance, recognizing it. A moment later, the doors open, and a well-dressed elf enters. His suit is perfectly groomed, but his face bears a fresh cut, hastily bandaged.

This elf is known to the courts. He has been summoned here many, many times. His evidence and testimonies have seen countless criminals put away. He has the highest success rate of any living detective, perhaps the highest in history. He also has by far the highest number of complaints written up against him, the highest gold values in collateral damage, and the most controversies revolving around work in other cities and with other races.

He moves confidently to the defense, smiling his most winning smile. "Apologies for my delayed arrival. We haven't met. I am Sterling Hart, Consulting Detective with Silvermoon Authority, and Freelance Investigator. And I am here to ensure that this man-" he points dramatically at Zariel - "Goes free."

There is a pause. The judge clears his throat.

"Detective Hart, we have quite enough theatrics in here without the addition of yours." Papers are passed to the judge. "But I see your papers are in order, so you will be allowed to join - QUIETLY, and ORDERLY."

"Err, yes, right, of course, many thanks, your honor."

Sterling nudges aside people and chairs to make room for himself with the defense without waiting to be invited.

[Arrillion]

Naveria was overseeing the trial. It was a good thing to have hired Sterling Hart even though it might matter little in the end. She wondered who hired him. Could it be Agorine? She never cared much for the kid and it seemed to Naveria Agorine had set eyes on Nova-ship, hiring such a detective to save the skin of an obstacle wouldn't make much sense. Naveria stopped thinking about internal affairs, instead she looked about the court room, especially at the attendees. Naveria, having housed in politic circles for centuries knew almost every noble in Silvermoon, beside the greenhorns. Between the attendees would be the ones who framed Zariel, even though it was obvious who was the culprit. She noticed there was an unusual number of members from House Seregon present. Naveria smirked. To come with such numbers was surely a provocation, or perhaps just stupid, as now it was for everyone with some brains to see who was behind the murder. House Novalight would have it's revenge, but first this trial will have to be solved. Sterling would do good Naveria mused, he had saved the skins of many a nobleman and maybe some where actually inclined to listen to the man. Still it is unlikely the outcome would differentiate from Zariel's demise. Careless wars fought by Naveria's predecessors had made many enemies among the other noble houses. They would have their retribution by any means, even this sham of a trial. Such is the way of the nobles. Naveria almost felt compassionate for Zariel, to get framed by this.....The fool.....

[Etmosril]

A blonde-haired woman with the crest of House Serynzheri embroidered across arm and bodice of her blue gown sits near the front of the jurors: taking notes in a booklet on her lap once in a while. The staff propped against her chair is entirely clear - almost crystalline. Her ears twitch when the court gets particularly loud, although she doesn't attempt to cover them.

From what I've seen, none of the jurors are randomly selected, and most of them have already heard of this case elsewhere. We were not questioned, nor issued a challenge for cause, nor has the judge dismissed the case for lack of evidence.

She rests her chin on her hand a moment, gazing below.

Slandering will get you nowhere.. Wait.. interesting.. is the Sunwing lawyer convinced that a case is supported by dyed hair? How is one supposed to recognize dyed hair as obviously having come from someone? If some mage ever develops this system, crime in Silvermoon will go plunging. There's no elf alive who can commit a crime without leaving at least a strand.

Mental note; require the Serynzheri advocates to have their contracts renewed every six months. I do not wish for such idiocy to spread to us next.

When Detective Hart makes his arrival, she sits back further into her chair and stops writing. Once his back is turned, she looks him over in her usual inexpressive way.

If the Novalight is cleared, it should be because the judge either gets tired of this nonsense, or the jurors do. Not because of dramatic late arrivals.

I wonder when we'll be allowed to deliberate.. I'd really like some- oh. Cyielra blinks and raises a hand, conjuring a cup of some pale-blue drink. She sips it while watching. Come, is there so much left to say? Then please hurry up and say it.


Meanwhile, further back in the crowd, a lanky woman in a long white coat - not blood-spattered for once - is trying to chat with the juror next to her. She looks back down at the court floor frequently, checking to make sure nothing's changed.

"It seems like a little waste of time, but - hey, do you think they're feuding? Is that what this is about?"

"I don't know. I don't keep track of noble feuds."

"Those lawyers aren't nearly loud enough. Maybe I should be a lawyer. Did I ever tell you about the time I was an expert witness? That was awesome; I swear I was talking about angles and bone fragments at least an hour. Eventually, the court dismissed the case, so it didn't do anything, but it was fun."

"....I couldn't imagine why anyone would dismiss a case with you as an expert witness. Really, I couldn't." The sarcasm is unmistakable. Thani glares at the other person.

"Ah, but who can understand the ways of elves? I couldn't imagine why anyone would want you as a juror, but here you are."

An argument ensues in the third row. Though Thani is eventually re-seated, she seems more interested in complaining than deliberating about the case.

[Edit: Misspelled word. My bad.]

[hiddengecko]

A silver pocketwatch rests in a pale hand, the chain dangling through the fingers and forming a loop reminiscent of a hangman's noose. It ticks with a languid, steady tempo, interrupted only by the rhythmic opening and closing of its face as Iliel Silverdawn vents her steadily growing impatience.

Click. Click. Click. Snap! Click. Click. Click. Tick. Click. Click. Click. Snap!

Her left eye twitches, almost involuntarily, tapered ears beginning to flatten themselves across the sides of her head. There is a pained tightness about her eyes, the corners of her lips drawing almost imperceptibly downward as the trial goes on. A mind of binaries, projections and logic turns its gears with a ponderous, forced slowness, sparks flickering within its workings at every moment of irritation, spitting out arguments and willing the court to move faster. Appeal to emotion. Common fallacy, they should know better; why does this take so bloody long?

Click. Click. Click. Tick.

One witness. Unreliable, clearly emotional, either feigned or genuine, I can't be certain, neither matters in this day and age. Mindwipe. Paid off. In her interests. Doesn't matter. I think the pawns think themselves queens.

Click. Click. Click. Snap!

Her eyes narrow to shimmering slits, toes curling within her shoes as the muscles in her jaw tighten for the briefest passing of an absent heartbeat. Hair. A strand of hair; meaningless, and they haven't used it to scry. Are they children? Were they paid off? This game is no longer amusing. It's not chess, it's not even craps; they're making us play 52-pickup and expect us all to bend over.

Click click click tick--

An arrogant boy, treating the courtroom like children. He knows he's playing a game, but he's forgotten which. Lack of humility before a judge. Bad publicity for Zariel. Wins the crowd, if he's got the right one, but part of me would want to vote against him just to spite him. Her lips are pressed together now, and there is an uncomfortably strong urge to sigh, to breathe, anything to remove the suffocating closeness of the courtroom and the nagging itch of poor logic. She squeezes her eyes shut against the sounds of arguing, in the floor and out, whispering, an errant cough, and the shuffle of someone adjusting themselves upon their seat.

Focus.

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-Snap!

A hand lightly taps her shoulder, and her eyes open even as the etched face of the watch seats itself over the hands. Losing track. Its owner recoils visibly as her pale orbs swivel to zero in on his emerald, lips parting and blood draining from his face. Am I frowning? Needlessly, she blinks, and offers the slightest hint of confusion to the floundering soul.


"I--I'm sorry," he stammers in a quiet voice, searching for his original train of thought. The abomination smiles, kindly, almost motherly. "It's quite alright," she assures, voice cool and comforting even with the metallic ring. "Did you need something?" He blinks himself, then drags his composure back by its hair, kicking and screaming all the way. "Ah--no. Are you alright?" Her smile twists, just a little--not cruel, but from comfort to sheepish mirth, as though she's struck her head on a chandelier. "Quite," she intones, just as mildly. "Thank you." A polite nod, then she turns to face the trial once again, as though nothing has happened.

The man settles into his seat in silence, and tries to ignore the crushed lump of silver in her left hand.

[c0rzilla]

...Maybe he needs this. Even if he gets out of this farce, Agorine is still waiting for him.

Maybe he needs Agorine after him. His whole family hunting him like wolves, him the rabbit.

The young human woman still scried. Certainly not for this whole while, much too taxing, and she too inexperienced with the practice. She had kept up with hasty notes and letters from elfin contacts, besides her divine peeping. New faces popped up in the scene, shimmering in the water. One or two she recognized.

Arrogant. Naive. Inexperienced. Sheltered. Spoiled.

Loving. Open...ish. Good-hearted. Brave. Dedicated.

He needs balance. His family wants him to choke on his enemy's blood. They stagnate, afraid to change, to lose power. I suppose that's a symptom of such long lives. They sit in their cushions, behind their curtains, smelling of their incense and magic.

But, they rot and become still like stagnant ponds inside. No new growth, no chance for expanding ripples.

...The phoenix. Sin'dorei love that bird. Perhaps the three-hundred year old elf boy should model himself after that. Fire is such a good tool for rebirth. Lose himself in the fire and ashes, then become reborn.

A trial by fire. This is what is needed.

The young human women ends her scrying for the time being, lifts her head, straightens her back and rubs her neck.

[ThePharaoh]

Zariel's chains rattle as they slide across the table he sits at while shaking Sterling's hand. "Thank you, I heard you were coming, I hope you can help." The Nova says humbly in a hushed tone. The jury and the crowd idly speaking amongst themselves, as the two sides prepare. The detective nods, as Zariel's lawyer looks to to the judge. "He's starting..." The lawyer says to the two Sterling and Zariel. They watch.

The prosecutor stands into the middle of the floor, the geometric colored shadows blanketing the ground and covering parts of him as he walks into their light. "So let's track what we have." The lawyer paces back and forth. He extends one finger from his palm and touches the tip which holds his print, with the index finger of his other hand. "We have the hair, that we tracked back to the defendant, which was dyed just like his hair was at the time of the murder." He extends a second finger, placing his index finger on that tip. "Motive; wanting to wipe out the partnership of the club the two families own.." Zariel's representative cuts him off standing up, outraged. "Objection! Speculation." The grand judge looks to the Zariel's lawyer, then back to the Sunwing Lawyer. "Continue."

He grins extending a third finger, looking at the other lawyer before turning to the jury. He gently taps the third finger "The defendant comes from an unstable, psychotic environment. It is in his nature to kill to succeed..." he begins; a group of elves in suits, and robes look around with stone faced expressions. "Also your honor, we have documentation saying that there were issues between patriarchs in the mail due to profit sharing." He says raising a finger. "Let me see those." The judge commands, the bailiff walks over to the desk, stepping through the suspended shadows of color from windows; as if walking through a lava lamp the colors suspended in air briefly on his body. He passes through them to reality, he grabs the parchment from the other representative at the table. He returns them to the judge, flickering with color once more briefly.

The judge begins looking them over, he pouts his lips, extending the parchment slightly further away from him squinting to read. The lawyer on the floor continues, "I believe the evidence is clear your honor, the defendant is caught red handed. We must not let these 'noble' families continue their archaic ways of society, to keep us, the common elf down. " He turns in a half circle. He raises one finger, he looks at the others. "I entrust Justice will be served." He heads to his seat. Zariel's lawyer stands up. "Your honor, I would like to call Detective Sterling Hart to the stand." The crowd gasps, murmuring among themselves.

[Delta]

Ripples expanded from the point her pale finger had penetrated the surface of the water. A flash of blue seemed to chase the myriad circles, and in their wake, vibrant colour shimmered uncertainly.

She paused. Interference? No, no, impossible. The threads binding point A and point B had been diverted trans-plane to minimise the prospect of detection, which was already slim. Even if it was spotted, she’d know, and a back-trace would be nigh impossible by then.

A moment passed and the vision settled, as clear as her reflection. No longer did a placid countenance and half-amused smile greet the diviner, however, but the image of a courtroom as seen through the eyes of another. When the host blinked, the picture was also obscured, and wherever she or he glanced, so was the projected display. The slight inconvenience lent her auditing longevity, though.

Imposing figures in expensive suits made animated gestures, pointing at one man in particular every so often. Words swam from the pool all the while, blurred and hazy, as though the speaker was attempting to bellow underwater.

The observer smirked. Oh, I’m not the only one…?

//

Attending in body rather than spirit, perhaps more the former than the latter, a stern-faced woman seated towards the back of the gallery watched the trial with fervent intensity. She was dressed for the occasion; a simple black suit and modest-length skirt. A tie bearing the obnoxiously elaborate Sunreaver embroidery and colours was tucked into the jacket. Her ash-blonde hair was tidily pinned back in a ponytail, and a leather-bound folder rested in her lap. She referred to it often.

Apart from the ever-present look of fierce disdain that curled her lips downward, Adel looked moderately comfortable in this setting. Disbelief claimed her mostly dour expression, rising whenever the prosecutor did. Outrageous, she heard herself silently hiss. Not that they could even hope to fool a child with these absurd accusations. As though such specious evidence could sway a jury-… Another glance to the jury, though, and she bared her teeth, clicked her tongue. It seemed she wasn’t the only one, nor the first to have realised, but little could be done about it, now.

What a stunningly disastrous turn of events to have gotten yourself wound up in, she chided. Much rode on the trial, and in contrast, she was far more helpless to assist now than she’d been at the banquet – surprising, really, as the prosecution wasn’t showering the defendant in a volley of dark entropy and arrows. Would they were.

[Uthaniel]

"So, the young "Novalight" is in trouble, I see?"

Uthaniel rubbed the back of his head half-awkwardly as he peered at the scene. Nobles and their games, of course; It was a set-up, that's for sure.

The man shrugged and snickered softly to himself; Ultimately, it was absolutely none of his business. He simply focused on watching the scene, carefully placed at a safe distance - as the man seemed to have a tendency to be attacked.

Worst came to worst, the boy died there, but that wasn't his main objective. There were others he'd rather keep safe, at least at this point, and so the elf kept everything he'd need handy for a quick getaway. At the slightest sign of trouble...

[Aerikan]

Sterling returns Zariel's handshake and offers a sincere smile. "I hope I can help as well. I have it on good authority you are worth the effort."

The detective remains respectfully silent during the prosecution, paying careful attention, moving to the stand when he is called. Sterling swears himself in as he has done a hundred times past, and sits down with focus. It seems he has taken the judge's words to heart, and dispenses with dramatics for the moment.

"Detective Hart," Zariel's lawyer begins, "we know you are not a lawyer. For the benefit of the jury, what manner of expertise do you bring here, then?"

"Collection of forensic evidence, and the ability to make logical deductions based on said evidence." For once Sterling doesn't append any remarks about being the world's best at this.

"So, then, in your expert opinion, is the evidence against the defendant compelling? What deductions might you make from it?"

"Compelling? Absolutely not. Let us take it piece by piece.

The hair merely narrows it down to elves favoring that form of dye, hundreds at the very least. Considering color could have been changed again since this was found, I would say that expands to thousands, many of whom could not be identified as wearing such color currently."

"What of the motive, Detective Hart?"

"Illogical. The Novalights are well known by both their allies and detractors as a family of business. Murder, certainly, is anathema for business. No one with a motive of profit would commit a high profile murder. It frightens away customers, generates poor public relations, and not least, invites trials such as this one. Any reasoned line of thinking would rule this motive out."

"What of the victim's burns? Zariel is a mage, is he not? Could he not have been responsible?" The defense lawyer's aggressive questioning confuses some, while others follow his setup.

"In my experience, sir, one committing murder uses the tool they are most familiar with. In Zariel's case, he excels in frost. An arcane or flammable assault would be illogical."

"Detective Hart, thank you for your time. Before you present your evidence, is there anything else you would like to add?"

"Yes. It seems odd to me no one would mention that the defendant willingly turned himself in." Now it is Sterling's turn to feign the opposite approach. He whithers the odd looks by Novalight supporters and continues when all quiet.

"There has been much death of late, many attacks on the noble houses and their retainers. Surely the hunt for Zariel could have ended in more needless bloodshed. I think it is clear that willingly turning oneself in to avoid this violence is the act of a pacifist, not a murderer."

((Pausing to let others post before Sterling presents his evidence))

[ThePharaoh]

A pacifist?

Zariel thinks to himself, chained sitting at the table. His father's voice looming in his ears. "I don't know when you became so -weak- Zariel Amaru..." He couldn't stop thinking about it. It wasn't bad to seek peace Zariel knew that and wasn't ashamed, however had he lost his edge, his pride? Had he succumbed to politics, he had forsaken who he was to be who he should be. He failed. Listening to Sterling's testimony gave him hope however, he knew what he was doing.

Zariel looked around to the members of the jury. The courtroom was grand and felt more like a cathedral than a court house. The prosecutor sneers at Sterling as he speaks, then goes back to reading parchment idly. Novalights sit in the crowd silently, their eyes on Zariel wearing black suits, shirts and ties.

_________

"Oh..." One of the jurors scoffs, "Just look at him, so smug. He is probably planning his next vacation since he clearly bought this case off. The prosecutor isn't even -trying-." He shakes his head. "I heard one time the Novalights bought out a tailoring shop just to 'prove a point'." The elf shakes his head. "I hope their whole bloodline rots in the nether." He grunts.

[Aerikan]

"Detective Hart," Zariel's lawyer continues smoothly, "you were hired by the Novalight family to find evidence to acquit Zariel, yes?"

"No, sir. I came to this case of my own accord, to find the truth. If that truth had convicted Zariel, I would have presented it just as straightforward. However, as you will see, it does no such thing."

Bailiffs bring Sterling's evidence forward, carefully contained to avoid tampering.

"First, you will note that I found other hairs at the crime scene. Blonde hairs. Of different lengths and thicknesses. Yes, the size has been confirmed by observation with instruments. While this does not in itself point to a killer, it does make strong suggestions. I would start looking for a group of blondes, not a sole elf with orange hair.

This theory of a group of killers versus a lone assailant is further backed by my next evidence. I found several clues that pointed to a struggle with multiple attackers. In addition to the varying hairs, I found scuff marks on the floor of at least three different types of leather, which must have come from the footwear of multiple suspects."

In addition to the sealed contained of hair, special paper is brought forward, where the detective had taken samples of the leather fibers left and the shapes of what little pieces of footprints remained. While subtle, the presence of different footwear and different steps was clear when pointed out.

"Finally, and most compelling, was the presence of Fel residue. You can clearly see from the samples that this is spellburn and summoning discharge, as opposed to any stored feeding crystal. Also, as you will see in my diagram and can confirm in the edifice, the Fel-based assault had to have come from multiple attackers. There are burns that indicate points of origin and points of strike that came from different places at the same time."

"So, Detective, would you be so kind as to recap?"

"At the crime scene exists the presence of Fel, signs of struggle and marks from multiple attackers, and blonde hair from the same. What we have is an assault by a group of blonde warlocks, not a lone, fire-haired frost mage."

[Caravan]

Elihanara gasped in time with the onlookers of the trial, her face mirroring the shocked and frightened expressions of the crowd. Inwardly, she seethed. Ruirai, you cleaned up our blood but didn't think to pick up the hairs? The imp was getting lazy. Whispers rippled again throughout the courtroom.

"Warlocks at Sunwing's? I didn't know he was the type to get involved with anything like that."

"Clearly misdirection. The blonde hairs could have come from his family or servants. Facts are facts, Sunwing was gripping the Nova's hair!"

"I did business with the Sunwings; am I next?!"

"Order, order!" The judge frowned at the crowd before returning his gaze to Detective Hart. "A group of blonde warlocks...?"

Elihanara smoothed her skirt before resting her hands back in her lap, her fingers interwoven lightly. She listened intently and with outward concern of this revealed horror. It was merely a stumble, that was all; this trial was pointless anyway.

But the detective was wrong in one respect. It was only one warlock. Multiple attackers, yes, but not a group of warlocks. Nothing to be too concerned over: the loose end who knew the truth about her had been neatly taken care of.

She scanned the faces of the jurors. Some who had appeared keen on seeing the young Nova hanged now seemed unsure. Others appeared uncomfortable to be there. A few were still glaring at Zariel, unconvinced by Hart's evidence. If they are going to decide, they should do it.

[ThePharaoh]

Zariel's lawyer slowly steps backwards, smirking. "I have no further questions your honor." He looks back to the table which Zariel is seated, he takes his seat. The judge looks to the other prosecute, "Anything to add?" The prosecutor sat grimly with his expended witnesses behind him. The courtroom now dead silent. He slowly shakes his head. "No your honor.." The Judge nods, as the Bailiff ushers Sterling back to his seat. The prosecutor stands up as Sterling is seated, pacing with his final remarks.

"I think we -all- know what the truth is. -You- know it...I -know- it. Noble houses, outside of this specific case are throwing their weight around unevenly. Egos clash, profits fluctuate and people get killed." The prosecutor pinches the bridge of his nose speaking in a soft tone. "Look everyone, there isn't that many of us left. We -have- to stop killing each other, we have to stop our egos if they tear us apart instead of bring us together; stronger. We need families like the Sunwing and Novalight houses to lead with example, and tact. With one family killing the other it is just insulting to everything we've survived. I pray justice is served today, murder should never be accepted and tolerated unless it is war." He shakes his head. "Not for this..." The lawyer returns to his seat, as the jurors sit in consideration. Light murmurs and raspy whispers heard among those in the crowd.

As the prosecutor sits down, Zariel's lawyer stands. He clasps his hands taking the floor. His foot falls echoing within the large building. "I believe there is little for me to say which hasn't been said already. Said by the -evidence- mind you. Detective Hart made it clear he intends to defend the truth, and he has. The evidence against my client was weak, and the past several weeks my client has been attacked, physically, fiscally and socially. These are not coincidences, nor is the fact that my client would be accused of the tragic murder of another Noble. I feel bad for Mr. Sunwing but I know Zariel didn't do this. Let's find the -real- killer and bring them to justice." He heads to his seat as the crowd begins talking, spontaneously. The gavel bangs against the desk. "We are going to take a recess, and let the jurors discuss. We'll have a verdict when they're finished."

Zariel clasps his hands, they remained shackled. He closes his eyes; waiting.

[Reigen]

Instead of sitting this time, Reigen decided to remain upright against the wall, though her height made it appear as if she was on par with those sitting. Her nails rapped against the wall and her glare was upon the prosecution. For every word they spit, her hatred only grew for such a blind system.

All they had is hair. Hair. How stupid to base a case off of that. For all they know, whoever Zariel has that styles his hair has made a wig over the years of unused hair and wore it to kill the person with.

Reigen would blink.

Mental note: Tell Zariel to find new hair-dresser.

Her thoughts wandered to what was to happen if Zariel was let free. She had much in store for the arrogant male, so that such mistakes would never be repeated again. She would enjoy the permissions she had been given, even better would be forcing Zariel out of his element.

Her glare remained while a twisted smile formed under her mask.

I'll show you what it's like to be laughed at, Zariel, when you are out of your element. Revenge is a dish you wish wasn't cold.

[ThePharaoh]

After the recess, the elves flood back into the room. Everyone sits down, the restless grumble of voices return, as chairs screech being slid across the floor. More throats are cleared, idle coughing as the jurors return. The judge exits from his chamber and looks to Zariel. The young elf eyes the judge, with his chains rattling. The crowd slowly begins to hush the murmur. "Have you reached a verdict?"

A member of the Jury stands. "We, the Jury of Silvermoon find the defendant not guilty on all charges." The crowd erupts in mixed reactions, some upset some rejoiced, some don't care and walk out quietly. Zariel cheers raising his arms. As soon as his anti-magic shackles are removed he heads outside.