His head ached. Like a fat, troll with a blacksmith's hammer had taken up residence behind his right eye, and he was working overtime. A painful pulse he could feel in his teeth. The world was murky and dark, but a single image was burned into the inside of Creed's eyelids.
Valerius's face.
He was surrounded by darkness now. A scratchy fabric was tied tight over his eyes, and his hands were cuffed behind his back. The metal bit into his wrists. Creed tried to move, and the groaning protest of a cheap wooden chair was the first real sound to pierce the fog in his head.
Then another. The sound of teeth scraping against fingernails.
A voice squeaked from nearby.
"Oh, good. You're awake."
Clumsy fingers fumbled at the knot behind Creed's head. The blindfold fell away. Light, not even bright, flooded his vision from some unseen source, blinding him. As his world slowly came back into focus, a face materialized in front of him. A first-year, by the looks of him. He had pale, almost see-through skin, a mop of ginger hair, and so many freckles it looked like he'd been splattered with mud. A pair of round, smudged glasses sat crookedly on his hooked nose. Behind the glass, his eyes were huge and terrified. He wore the purple uniform of House Phoenix.
"Um. Creed? Name's Carson. Spire Courts. They, uh… they assigned me to your… thing. Your case."
Creed's brain, still sluggish, tried to process the words.
'Courts? Assigned?'
"Assigned for what? Where am I?"
"The holding cells beneath the Grand Court. The trial, it's about to start. You've been charged With… with the attempted assassination of an Archon."
The words hit Creed with the force of another kick. The scene in the Grand Hall came crashing back into his mind. His humiliation. Instead of becoming a martyr, he'd been dealt with in seconds.
A dry laugh escaped his lips.
"A lawyer? They're giving me a lawyer? And they sent a first year from House Phoenix?"
Carson's pale face flushed. "It's not standard practice. Most students don't enter the court program before their third year. They think it's arrogant. A kid from Phoenix like me starting early, gets all the hard cases that are already in the grave."
Creed stared at him. He was just like him, Creed in another font, It was almost poetic.
"ahhh... You know we're going to lose, right?"
Carson shook his head
"No. I don't know that. But I know that if we lose this one, I'm done. They'll remove me from the program permanently. This case is my biggest. And most unwinnable. So you see, I have quite a bit to lose, too."
Before Creed could respond, two guards entered, unlocked his cuffs, and hauled him to his feet, starting their walk out of the cell and down a corridor. Carson hurried after them, clutching a folder filled with papers.
The corridor opened up, and a low humming he'd barely noticed exploded into a thousand voices. They stepped out onto a wide marble floor.
He was standing in a giant colosseum.
Rows upon rows of stone benches rose up, packed with a sea of people. Students from all Houses, church officials, even nobles. The air was thick with excitement.
Creed's eyes scanned the crowd. High above, in a private viewing booth, sat Archon Matthias, his handsome face holding a look of deep disappointment.
In another booth, he saw her. Alta Crestmore. Her crimson hair was impossible to miss. She sat back, observing Creed with a hint of curiosity.
Creed's gaze jumped again, finding Iris. She was there, flanked by her friends, her face a messy mix of emotions, sadness, anger, and horror. Their eyes met for a split second before she looked away, whispering something to Elara, who glared at Creed with hatred filled eyes.
His eyes moved again. In the grandest booth of all, seated alone like a king upon a throne, was Archon Valerius. He looked exactly as he had in the hall. Serene. He wasn't even watching Creed. He was examining his fingernails, his head tilted slightly his expression one of boredom.
Creed was guided to a wooden table. Carson slid into the chair beside him, his papers now trembling.
Directly across from them sat the opposition. At the head of the table was Marx, the Spire's top prosecutor. Tall, lean, with sharp, predatory eyes behind black glasses. He wore the blue uniform of House Leviathan and radiated an aura of pure confidence. He wasn't a lawyer, he was a hunter. On each side of him sat his assistants, a tall boy and a sharp faced woman, they moved together like a well oiled machine.
High above on a seat overlooking the floor was the judge, an old jowly man wearing the deep blue robes of House Leviathan.
'Of course.'
The trial was already over.
The Judge slammed his gavel, the sound silencing the arena.
"The court is now in session. The Spire versus Creed, on the charge of attempted assassination of a ranking Archon. He is execution. Prosecutor Marx, you may begin."
Marx moved to the center of the floor. Not looking at Creed but instead looking at the crowd. His voice was smooth as he began.
"Honored members of the court, esteemed officials, and fellow students. We are gathered here today for to address an act so evil and unthinkable, it strikes at the heart of our very order."
He finally turned his gaze on Creed. "We are here to look upon a boy who attempted to murder Archon Valerius!"
A roar of outrage erupted from the crowd. Shouts of "Traitor!" and "Blasphemer!" rained down. The judge let it go on for a moment before slamming his gavel for quiet.
Marx continued, "The act is undeniable. Thousands saw his failed attempt. The question is not what he did, but who he is. And I tell you, he is a traitor amongst us. A potential agent of HERO! Consider his past…"
'Potential agent?'
Potential agent? Creed's mind was racing. How had they not confirmed his connection to HERO yet? The power of the Holy weapon should've been enough confirmation. The Eye was supposed to have enough power to destroy the entirety of House Kiron, destroying a whole portion of the Spire and killing an Archon, even if they had underestimated Valerius. The markings on The Eye also contained text of the language spoken by HERO. The rest a simple investigation would've revea…
That's when it hit him. The church was attempting to keep that information hidden, HERO infiltrating the church would cause mass outrage and paranoia among the students and faculty. Something the church couldn't afford, especially with its current state.
Marx had no idea about any of this, he had probably been given limited information, he was simply inventing conspiracies to further tarnish Creed's image. The church was attempting to bury him here to kill the source. Which made Creed even angrier.
"...one to vouch for him. Who is he, really? Where did he come from? A perfect piece for an evil organization like HERO to destroy us from the inside."
Carson jumped to his feet. "Objection! My client's past is not evidence of anything but his misfortune! The prosecutor is inventing conspiracies!"
The judge barely glanced at him. "Your client's origins are public record and a relevant point of inquiry. Overruled. Sit down, Mr. Carson."
Carson sat, deflated. Marx's pace never slowed.
"But let's put aside speculation. Let's look at the facts of his character. An outcast, shunned by his peers. Why? I'll tell you why. I would like to call the court's attention to the incident concerning the student, Emily Lancer. An incident where this boy was accused of forcing himself upon a young woman before fleeing like a coward!"
A wave of sickness washed over Creed. He could feel Iris's eyes on him again, her look probably one of disdain.
Carson was on his feet again, his voice more desperate this time.
"Objection! The accusations concerning Emily were never formally investigated! They are rumors, this is a character assassination!"
"And this boy attempted to assassinate an Archon!" Marx shot back, his voice booming over Carson's. "I would say it's not only relevant, but it shows a dangerous pattern in the defendant. A danger to everyone around him."
The crowd roared its approval. Marx turned and returned to his seat.
The judge looked down, his voice filled with boredom. "Your turn, Mr. Carson."
Carson took a deep breath and walked to the center of the arena. He looked small, like a kid about to give a performance he would much rather skip.
"My client is not a traitor," he began. "These claims are baseless. Creed is only a child. A sixteen-year old boy let down by the very people who now want to execute him. He was an orphan, taken in by the Spire. But he was isolated and bullied. He was pushed to a breaking point. To a point where he believed this act of violence was his only way out!"
Carson's voice grew stronger as he looked up at the crowd.
"Where were his mentors? His guardians? In a Spire that's supposed to guide the younger generation, where was the guidance for this boy who had obviously lost his path? Yes, he used a weapon. But it was the Spire that loaded the gun!"
Whispers spread through the crowd. A few faces looked thoughtful for the first time.
Marx leaned forward, "Are you suggesting the church is responsible for his choice to commit murder, Mr. Carson? That's borderline heretical."
"I am suggesting that context matters! That he was a victim before he became an aggressor."
"A victim who nearly incinerated his fellow students. A victim who raised a weapon against an Archon who has dedicated his life to serving Verdia. A victim with a history of preying on those weaker then him. Tell me, Mr. Carson, at what point does his victimhood end?"
The question hung in the air. Carson's face was covered in sweat. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Creed saw the fight drain from his young lawyer. The kid was drowning. They both were.
Carson finally looked at the judge.
"Your honor… The defense requests a short recess."
The judge looked at him with amusement.
"Granted. Let the boy catch his breath. Court is in recess for thirty minutes."
He slammed his gavel down, extending Creed's life for a little longer.