When they checked into the Argent Key, considering how much they’d saved by being able to sell off their original living ship tickets, Ward and Haley didn’t feel bad about splurging on two separate suites. That first night in the city of Ordo Caelus, Ward fell asleep easily, though he had unsettling dreams that woke him several times during the night. He wouldn’t go so far as to call them nightmares, but they were unpleasant in that he had a sense of unease when he woke and couldn’t put his finger on why; the dreams broke apart in his memory like fog under the light of the sun.
After he cleaned up and came out of his bathroom, he noticed an envelope on the floor near the door; someone had slid through the gap. Despite the ostensibly harmless nature of a paper envelope, he picked up his sword, drew it from its scabbard, and, wearing nothing but his cotton undergarments, padded toward the door. He listened with his keen ears and sniffed—a faint hint of spicy cologne came to him. Frowning, he picked up the envelope and unfolded it, revealing a simple, neatly printed note:
Mr. Dyer, you have a visitor awaiting your presence in the Commander’s Lounge. You’ll find it a short walk down the eastward hallway from the lobby.
-Mr. Rond, Morning Manager of the Argent Key
Ward tossed the envelope on the little table near his balcony doors. He supposed it was a nice courtesy that they didn’t pound on the door, but the guy could’ve put the visitor’s name on the note. Grumbling, suddenly ill-tempered for not much reason, he got dressed, eschewing his coat and hat; he wasn’t sure he’d be leaving the inn, and if he did, the weather was nice enough; he could see bright, dappled sunlight illuminating his balcony and he’d been almost uncomfortably warm in his wool coat on the way up from the docks the day before.
“You seem irritable,” Grace said, stifling a yawn.
“Are you really yawning?” Ward chuckled. “You know you don’t have a body, right?”
“I still feel like I do. I’m in yours, after all. Besides, I pick up habits from my hosts, and not all of them have been morning people.”
“Mmhmm.”
“So, why are you grumpy?”
“Because I’ve already got a goddamn visitor. I wanted to stretch my legs and do some looking around today, but I have a feeling others have designs on my time.”
“Chin up. Be glad you don’t have to hide inside someone’s skull all day.”
“Oh, hush. You get to experience everything I do.”
“Yes,” Grace said, giving his shoulder a gentle shove, “but I don’t get to choose any of it.”
Ward sighed, nodding. “I get it. You’re right; I wouldn’t like that.” He nodded to the door. “Anyway, I better go see who’s waiting for me.”
“It’s probably just True,” Grace opined.
Ward nodded as he slipped out the door, locking it behind him. Before leaving Westview, he’d purchased a comfortable, over-the-shoulder leather satchel to keep his most treasured items—notably, the mana well, his grimoire, and his sack of large-denomination glories. So, with that hanging on one hip and his sword on the other, he walked over to Haley’s suite. He only knocked twice before she opened the door a few inches, peering out with one pale eye.
Ward smiled. “Good morning.”
“Is it?” She yawned. “I’ll get up—”
“Nah, sleep in if you want. I’m going downstairs, but I’ll let you know if I go anywhere.”
She nodded, rubbing an eye sleepily, and as he turned to leave, he heard the door click shut. Ward didn’t exactly mean to hurry most of the time, but he was a fast walker, and when he had a destination in mind, he didn’t mosey; he strode with purpose. That said, he reached the lobby in less than a minute and scanned for the hallway that might be leading in an easterly direction. Judging by the sun in the floor-to-ceiling windows, it was on his left, so he walked down it, reading aloud the little placards near the doors leading in either direction.
“Sea View Lounge… Starry Lounge… Scholar’s Lounge… Aha!” Ward paused before the set of doors on his right. “Commander’s Lounge.” He pushed the door open and strode into a brightly lit room furnished with leather and dark hardwoods. Two long couches faced each other over an ornate coffee table, and, sure enough, lounging on one of them was Marshal True.
“At last, he rises!” she announced, setting her delicate teacup onto a saucer with a clatter.
Ward smirked as he sat down opposite her. “Waiting long?”
“Oh, a half an hour or so. I wouldn’t have come so early, but the damned Assembly sent a messenger to me quarters last night with a summons. Fer me an’ you.”
“Yeah?” Ward had expected them to be waiting around for days, considering the Assembly was, essentially, the biggest bureaucratic organization in the entire solar system.
“Yep. My appointment’s in just under an hour, and yours is set for noon. You don’t want to be late, Ward.” She said the last part as though Ward were a truculent child.
“Look who you’re talking to, True.” He chuckled. “I’m usually up before dawn, and the Corps drilled into me the importance of punctuality. Hell, it’s been my philosophy for as long as I can remember that if you’re not five minutes early, you’re late!”
“Right, right.” True waved a hand, half apologetically, half dismissively, at Ward’s protestation. “I’m grumpy, Ward. I was up more’n half the night getting grilled by the Marshal General’s staff and now I get to go through it all again.” As she spoke, Ward noticed her lazy-sounding accent began to fade, and he realized she really was upset.
“They weren’t easy on you, huh? Anything you can tell me?”
She shook her head. “Just be honest, I guess. When I gave my accounting of events, I didn’t embellish or hide anything, so that stone’s cast—I’ll have to do the same before the Assembly, or word’ll get back to them about how my story changed.”
“So I better not lie about anything, either. I mean, True, is there something we should be lying about?” This was the first time True had seemed at all concerned about their upcoming hearings, and Ward was a little caught off guard.
She stood up and began pacing toward the bank of windows on the far side of the room. “I wish I knew, Ward. All I know is that the tone of my ‘interview’ last night felt a hell of a lot more like a damned interrogation. I feel like someone’s pushing an agenda.” She turned to level a stare at him, her heavy brows and dark eyes stormy. “Stay on your toes.”
“Right. On my toes.” Ward sighed and stood. “Where do I go? Just grab a cab and say the Assembly Hall?” He scanned the walls for a clock and saw a tall grandfather-style one near the corner. “Is that thing right? It’s almost nine?”
“Yep, guess so. My hearing starts at nine-thirty, so I better get going. As for where to go, you’re on the right track. Go to the Assembly Hall and ask at reception. They’ll get you to your hearing room.”
“What about Haley?”
True shrugged. “Doesn’t seem they want to see ’er. Maybe she slipped their notice, but I wouldn’t count yer eggs just yet. Anyway, I’m out. Gotta go pick up that damned artifact—’ave to present it.”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
She nodded and started toward the door, and Ward followed behind her. “I’ll walk you to the lobby. Gotta find some breakfast.”
“Right.” True looked at him as they walked, side by side, down the hallway. “Surprised you slept so well.”
Ward shook his head. “Not exactly well. I mean, yeah, I slept in—for me—but I woke up a lot in the night. Weird dreams.”
“Going planet to planet can have strange effects while your body ’an spirit adjust. ’Least that’s what me training said.” True’s bumpkin fa?ade was falling back into place, and it made Ward smile. She was a character. He wondered if she’d act more or less of a bumpkin when she stood before the Assembly. They reached the lobby, and she turned to him, holding out a hand. When Ward took it, she squeezed with her well-calloused fingers. “Good luck, Ward. Hope we get a chance to chat later.”
He nodded, locking his eyes with hers. “I’m sure we will.”
With a final nod, she turned and strode toward the doors, slipping out into the sunlight. Ward turned to the clerk at the front desk and walked over to him. When he cleared his throat, the fellow looked up, straightening his back like he was in the military. “Good morning, sir. Is there aught I can help you with?”
Ward nodded, heeding the yawning void in his gut. “Where can I get a good breakfast?”
###
Two hours later, Ward stood before the towering structure of the Assembly Hall, gazing up at the wide expanse of marble steps leading to its grand entrance. Three distinct towers rose from the central building, each rectangular in shape, with the middle one standing nearly a third taller than those on either side. Atop each tower loomed an enormous marble statue—on the left, a robed man holding a set of scales; on the right, a woman in a flowing gown, an open tome resting in her left hand. The central, tallest tower bore a hooded and cloaked figure, its features deliberately obscured, its face tilted upward in contemplation, and one foot raised upon a step as if poised to ascend.
He wondered who the figures were or what they were meant to represent. The only one he was confident he could guess was the guy with the scales. He was probably meant to represent justice or law. He figured the one with the book might represent education, but the one at the center… Ward shook his head, bored with guessing. He started climbing the steps, his bootheels clicking on the polished stone. He wondered where all the damn marble in the city came from. The quarry had to be enormous.
When he stepped into the central hall, arched ceilings rose cavernously above him, and the faint echoes of conversations reverberated, giving the space a strange, busy feeling, even though he could only see twenty or so people in the vast space. Distantly, across a polished expanse of flooring that shone with the reflected lights of high chandeliers, he saw a reception desk. He strode toward it.
The clerk was an officious woman wearing a blouse buttoned nearly to her chin and spectacles with two sets of lenses. One set that could be lowered over the other was currently flipped up, obscuring her forehead. “May I help you?”
“I’m Ward Dyer, and I have a, um—” He searched for the right word. “—hearing with the Assembly at noon. Can you direct me?”
“That I can, Mr. Dyer. One moment.” She pulled a heavy binder toward herself, flipped through the pages, and slid her finger down a long row of tiny printing. After a moment, she picked up a pen and a small scrap of paper and wrote on it. “This is where you go: Committee Room C. Take the central elevator to the fourth floor and follow the signs. It’ll be off to the left as you exit the elevator.”
Ward took the slip of paper and nodded. “Thanks.”
“Good luck, sir.” With that, she picked up a thick paperback novel—the first of its kind Ward had seen in the Vainglory System. Was that the sort of novel Haley was always talking about? It seemed so…modern. He clicked his tongue, turning to walk past the counter toward a large bronze-lettered sign that read “Elevators and Stairs.”
He found his destination easily enough. The elevator was a work of art, with glass walls and visible bronze gears pulling the car along enormous chains. He was so fascinated watching how it worked that he almost missed his floor. Even so, he got off in time and followed the well-marked signs to Committee Room C. The double doors were closed and locked, so he took a seat on the row of wooden benches in the hall outside.
He took out the pocket watch he’d purchased on Cinder. He’d set the time according to the clock at the inn, but while he’d done so, he’d wondered if it would keep accurate time. Could the hours and days all be the same here as they were on Earth? How did that work? I made him think of the strange fact that despite this world being larger than Cinder, it felt the same as far as gravity was concerned. For that matter, he had no idea how either world compared to Earth in size.
Of all the things he’d experienced in the Vainglory System, the consistent measurement of time and the steady force of gravity were the ones that made him seriously consider the possibility that he was dead or dreaming. He considered it, but he didn’t believe it. The “ancients” who’d built the challenges and, apparently, other things in the system had already proven to be able to mess with dimensional or teleportation magic. Who was to say they hadn’t traveled the universe, making worlds comfortable for them and, thereby, the people who’d likely descended from them? After all, wasn’t it just as strange that humans were in the Vainglory System as it was that the worlds felt like Earth?
He became so engrossed in his thoughts that Ward almost missed it when a young man in a black robe approached the doors before him and unlocked them, pulling one wide. He put down a door stopper and then turned and walked away on near-silent steps without a word. Ward peered through the door and saw a room that resembled, very much, a courtroom from Earth. There were rows of wooden benches lined up for, he assumed, spectators and a high bench where seven tall, black-cushioned chairs sat empty. At the center of the space was a single wooden chair.
“A shit,” he groaned, imagining that he’d be the one in the hot seat there. While he frowned and contemplated the repercussions of leaving now while he still could, the lights in the chamber brightened, and men and women began to enter from some back entrance, taking seats in the chairs behind the high bench. They were all wearing black robes, and, disconcertingly, they wore half-masks that covered their eyes and noses.
When no one came to get him, and no others seemed to be coming to observe the hearing, Ward stood from the bench and approached the doorway. Peering inside, he saw that he hadn’t been quite right. A few others wearing black robes were seated to the left in the audience section. He didn’t recognize any of them, so he turned his gaze toward the masked individuals sitting quietly on the bench, looking down upon the rest of the room like judges.
“Are you Ward Dyer?” the central figure asked in a strident, masculine tenor.
Ward cleared his throat and nodded. “I am.”
“Excellent. Stand ready. The hearing will begin in a few moments. A warden of the court will be along shortly to see to your disposition.”
Ward frowned, folding his arms. He didn’t like the sound of that. A warden of the court? His disposition? He didn’t know exactly what the man meant by that, but he didn’t have to wait long to find out. Clicking bootheels approached from the hallway, and then a man stepped into the committee room and instantly locked his eyes on Ward. He was a formidable-looking fellow, tall and robust with a clean-shaven face. He was dressed in a sharp-looking black military-style uniform with golden adornments, including a shiny helmet that had to be plated with genuine gold.
“Dyer?” he asked, stepping close.
“That’s right.” Ward lowered his hands, his gut telling him the person before him was dangerous.
“I’ll need to keep ahold of your sword and your satchel there. Any other weapons? Any alchemical arms?”
Ward had left his pistol at the inn, but he had a knife on his belt, under his sword belt. He pointed to it. “Just this.”
“Keep it. I’ll take the sword belt and satchel.” The “warden of the court” held out a hand, and Ward reluctantly unbuckled his sword.
“You gonna take it anywhere?”
“No. I’ll be standing by until the hearing is over.”
Ward nodded and handed over his belt and the satchel. He thought he’d been wise, keeping his prized items with him, but now he wished he’d stashed them in the hotel room or left them with Haley. As the guard slung the belt over one shoulder and gripped the satchel in his left fist, he gestured with his right hand for Ward to walk down the aisle toward the open area at the center of the chamber. “You can stand at the center. Don’t sit until the chancellor orders it.”
It hadn’t been lost on Ward that the warden had his own sword—a slightly curved, narrow-bladed one with a basket hilt. Nor did he miss that he rested his free hand on that hilt while waiting for Ward to start walking. Ward suddenly felt like this hearing had taken on a very different tone than he’d hoped. Was this what True had been worried about? Had she felt like her superiors had been treating her like a criminal—like she’d done something wrong?
Ward had been to court many, many times, and often, he’d been treated like he was the bad guy by the defense attorneys. He’d always known he’d been in the right, though, and he’d had the prosecutors to prep him before a case. Standing there on Primus in what amounted to a courtroom, he was without any sort of support. Haley was back at the hotel, but he wouldn’t want her caught up in this mess if things went badly, anyway. Were things going badly? Was he being premature in his worry? Maybe the Assembly was just dramatic in its procedures.
“Go ahead, Mr. Dyer.” The warden nodded toward the aisle again, and Ward sighed and started moving.
As he walked toward the lone chair in the middle of the chamber, he allowed part of his mind to rebel and plot how he’d get out of the room if they tried to railroad him. They’d taken his sword and grimoire, but they hadn’t taken the spells from his mind. He had a mana bolt and shadow step, and there were plenty of shadows in the big room. Hell, if worst came to worst, he could take the leash off his inner wolf. As he stood behind the chair, waiting for permission to sit, perhaps it was those thoughts that brought the grin to his lips and the dangerous gleam to his eyes.