THE TRIAL

I sat in the archaic courtroom waiting for my interrogation to begin.

“Where were you last night, Eirik Stormhand?” Bjorn Grimshield asked.

The question echoed through the council chamber, bouncing off stone pillars blackened by centuries of torch smoke. The great brass clock above struck the first chime of the hour—slow, deliberate. Sixty minutes until judgment. The charges brought against me were heavy. Dereliction of duty, abandoned post, and consorting beyond the walls. Each charge individually could result in my execution, and I was lucky enough to be charged with all three.

I stood in the center of the chamber, wrists unbound but guarded. Bjorn’s cold stare never wavered. I had faced that gaze before, survived it before, but never with the city so fragile, never with the stakes so final. I needed time. I needed to stall. Just a few more moments to gather my thoughts. I stared at the statues of our ancestors. Noble warriors who have fallen in battle. Their stone visage forever immortalized.

“Does it really matter?” I replied. My voice was steady, though my pulse thundered in my ears. “It seems to me the decision’s already been made.”

A murmur rippled through the council benches. Sigrid Ravenhelm slammed her gauntleted fist against the arm of his chair. “You forget yourself, whelp!” She sharpened her gaze. “We are humanity’s last surviving stronghold. The last beacon in a sea of eternal darkness. You snuck out under the cover of the black hour and failed to be accountable at the dawn bell. Your life is not your own to waste on foolish ventures. It belongs to the Holdfast. We will hear the answer to our question now,” screamed Sigrid.

The other members of the council watched quietly. Bjorn was known for his rigid adherence to the rules. Sigrid, however, was an entirely different beast. Known for her ruthless pragmatism that did nothing more than protect her own interest. If I show nothing, Bjorn will have my head rolling in a wicker basket. If I show too much, Sigrid’s assassins will make sure I don't live to see the morning. I must appeal to both. With no time left, I reached into my pocket and pulled out two fist-sized gems.

“Arcane Aetherium,” whispered Bjorn.

As soon as he pulled them out, the room erupted into dissent. These two gems are enough to power the Holdfast for several decades.

“Lords, I present these to you,” I said.

I looked at the clock. Ten minutes left.

Ravenhelm looked at me with obvious contempt, no doubt upset that she was unable to monopolize this resource. “Why did you not bring this forward sooner?” she asked. “Why present these resources is such a dramatic fashion? There were other more subtle ways you could have gone about this.”

I stared resolutely at her. “I had to ensure my own safety, but I also needed to make sure this resource was shared with the entirety of the Holdfast. I could not risk such a valuable resource being monopolized by a single person.”

The clock chimed. One hour had passed. My time was up. Bjorn looked at Sigrid and then all the other members of the council. They reached a silent agreement.

“One hour ago, you were a traitor who shirked your duties and endangered the whole of the Holdfast. Now you have given us valuable time.” Bjorn smiled slightly. “However, merits and punishments must both be given out in equal doses. For your contribution you would normally be elevated to the rank of Earl. However, considering the seriousness of your crimes, you will be elevated to the lesser rank of viscount.” His eyes turned cold. “Do you accept your sentencing?”

I smiled and thought about how hard my life had been. Things were about to be different. I finally had the power to protect myself. I turned to the council. “I do,” I declared boldly.

Norrel Cooper: Born and raised in Stockton California. When he's not writing, he can be found traveling and participating in extreme sports.