NOVEL NEXT Chapter 202: Let the accused step forward.
Thirty minutes after Aodhán received Aldric's message, he and Daruk stood before Principal Zatya, Rahim, and Kaelith to explain the situation and ask for help. Aodhán recounted everything from the start—Aldric's smuggling, his dealings with Baron Shrapanelly, the cultist, and finally, how he'd messaged Colonel Fortuna for assistance.
While he spoke, Daruk stood stiffly at his side, fuming in silence—likely restraining himself from saying I told you so, but to be fair, Aodhán hadn't been a fan of Aldric's seafaring ways either. Maybe he hadn't criticized it as much as he should have, but that was because he understood the benefits of Aldric's profession. It was the same profession that had saved them from conscription back at the Warren. How could he condemn it without being a hypocrite?
Daruk, of course, didn't see it that way. They had practically argued the whole way here—a rare occurrence—but Aodhán was just relieved Daruk wasn't icing him out completely.
When he finished speaking, Principal Zatya's expression was like that of a thundercloud. In a flat, anger-suppressing tone, she asked. "And have you spoken to Colonel Fortuna since then?"
"I have." Aodhán said with a nod, "But she told me the matter is out of her hands. Apparently, matters like this fall under the jurisdiction of the Awakened Council, not the military. I didn't know that."
Unable to hold back the words, Daruk muttered. "You would have if you and Aldric had told me what was going on earlier."
Aodhán grimaced. "This is exactly why I didn't tell you, because you'd have turned it into an issue."
"Well now it's a fucking issue, isn't it?"
Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Aodhán ignored Daruk and turned his gaze back to the principal. "Aldric reported a crime and caught a cultist. He should be rewarded, rather than arrested."
"It doesn't work like that, Aodhán," Rahim said, shaking his head. "Seafaring and smuggling are crimes in Ragnarok—especially when it involves sneaking people out to avoid the war. The military is suffering because of this, and the fact that Aldric reported a crime isn't enough to erase that."
Kaelith nodded grimly. "At best, he might get a lighter sentence or bail. But that's it." He paused, his expression darkening. "I think we have a much bigger problem than you realize."
He shifted his gaze to Aodhán and continued. "The Awakened Council likes to keep dirt on everyone. It's how they maintain control, and with a potential champion candidate like yourself, they are even more meticulous. They tried once and failed, but with your brother now in their custody, I can't imagine what they will do."
"They will do everything." Principal Zatya snapped, her voice sharp as she pushed herself to her feet and began pacing. The simple action sent unease rippling through Aodhán. If a Mythic was pacing, then this situation was worse than he'd thought.
"This is very bad timing." Principal Zatya continued. "I should have let you pay off your fine earlier. Now…" She exhaled sharply. "They'll use it as leverage, a hook to try and pin you down."
"But I have the money. I can pay it off now," Aodhán reasoned.
"They'll just come up with something else." Zatya shook her head. "You don't know the Awakened Council like we do. They may uphold the law from the outside and convict rightful criminals, but I've never known a more shifty and self-serving bureaucracy. They bend the rules to suit themselves, switching masks depending on what benefits them most. If we're not careful, they'll tie a leash around your neck and drag you behind their carriage. I can't let that happen. I can't let them ruin all the work I've invested in you."
Aodhán scowled but said nothing. Instead, he turned to Rahim. "What do you suggest?"
Rahim stared at him quietly for a moment before shaking his head. "I don't know. At this point, you've had more issues with the Awakened Council than I have. I might have been the top student of my year, but I was no prodigy. You, on the other hand, are not only a genius, but even at the evolved class, you possess enough power to rewrite the fate of an entire battlefield. You're acquiring fame and reputation like candy, and as if that isn't enough, you have a familiar. To them, that makes you one of two things: a threat or an asset. And they won't stop until they've turned you into the latter."
Kaelith gave a grim nod. "It's the same with the military. The difference is, at least they're upfront about their motives."
A heavy silence settled over the room, but after a few seconds, Principal Zatya asked. "When is the trial?"
"Tomorrow," Aodhán responded. "He's been in their custody for almost two days, apparently."
"Then you'll have to be there," Zatya said. "Rahim will accompany you—"
"I'll go too." Daruk cut in with a tone that brooked no argument. "Aldric is my brother, too. I can stand for him."
"No, you can't." Principal Zatya said with a shake of her head. Not without a title or the reputation to do so. You need either noble standing or a recognized military rank to post bail for someone accused. You have neither."
Daruk grimaced but didn't back down. "I still want to go. Regardless."
Principal Zatya studied him for a long moment before finally nodding. "Fine. Tomorrow, the three of you will leave for the Awakened Court to set your brother free. For a crime like this, bail shouldn't be more than ten thousand gold, but I'll throw in an extra ten just in case."
She smirked and sat back down, her gaze landing on Aodhán. "Of course, I won't be doing so for free. You'll have to owe me."
Aodhán grimaced but nodded. He didn't like it, but he had little choice. Aside from the funds set aside for his fine, he only had around ten thousand gold left. Daruk had some too, but even combined, their resources were a drop in the ocean. Better to take the handout and not need it than need it and not have it.
They spent the next several minutes ironing out the logistics for their departure. Principal Zatya spent most of the time issuing warnings, as though trying to cram a lifetime's worth of caution into Aodhán's head. He couldn't absorb it all, but he caught enough to start wondering if he could even trust an agent anymore.
Eventually, Aodhán accepted the heavy pouch of gold from Principal Zatya, its weight seeming like a stone around his neck. He and Daruk thanked her, and half an hour later, both of them stepped out of the office.
Immediately, the door shut behind them, and Daruk sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I hate this."
Aodhán nodded. "Me too, but we can't leave him there to rot. He's our brother."
Daruk scoffed in a way that made it obvious that he had already considered doing so. Aodhán couldn't blame him. Out of the two of them, he had spoken against Aldric's choice of profession the most. He had every right to be angry. Maybe it was even better that he was angry—at least that meant he still cared.
Wanting to ease the tension, Aodhán said, "Why don't we join Yurin and Andrew in the training hall? Pretend one of them is Aldric and beat the shit out of him."
Daruk snorted a laugh. "Stars above, I wish I could see his nonchalant face right now. I would punch him to the moon. Unfortunately, I'm terrible at playing pretend. I can barely even see Yurin coming now, and Andrew is just a menace to fight against. Better to channel my energy toward expanding my essence thread and try to push my proficiency to refined than waste my strength on an unsatisfactory battle."
Aodhán chuckled. "Well, good for you. My proficiency with the technique is still crude, but with a few more sessions, I might get it down before the end of the week... or month."
They both laughed and, together, made their way toward the training hall where Yurin and Andrew were hard at work, testing the limits of Yurin's new speed. As they stepped inside, both boys turned toward them, and Yurin called out, "So, what's the verdict?"
"Aodhán and I are going to the court tomorrow to try and bail him out," Daruk said with a sigh. "Rahim's coming with us, so hopefully that makes things smoother."
"I'm sorry my sister couldn't help," Andrew muttered.
Aodhán shook his head. "This isn't her fault. I'm just grateful she tried at all."
They talked for a few more minutes before their conversation shifted to the upcoming forge matches. Aodhán used the moment to make his pick. Now that he was in the top twenty, nearly everyone was a legitimate challenge or, at the very least, not a pushover.
He took his time selecting, thankful no one had chosen him yet. In the end, he picked a prominent fire awakened named Malachai Fenlow. The boy was at the 17th tier—just below Daruk, who was also within range—but Aodhán didn't want to pull his brother down just to climb up.
Their names were marked red as soon as he made the selection, and after the others all did theirs, they settled down to continue their training. Daruk and Aodhán sat in one corner of the hall to work on their energy enhancement technique, flares of storm and ice essence billowing out of them at irregular intervals while Andrew and Yurin trained at the center, running circles around each other.
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The day passed in this manner, and the next morning, after the class on Awakened combat, Aodhán and Daruk stood atop the library, watching Rahim finish etching a teleportation circle into the roof. Apparently, teleporting people across multiple sectors was even more impressive than Artemis had made it seem.
When Rahim finished, he pulled out a Mythic spatial core from his ring and placed it at the center of the array. The circle came to life with a burst of willpower and spatial fluctuations. Energy surged upward in a brilliant cascade as the concentric circles of the teleportation array lit up in sequence, moving from the outermost ring towards the center.
A hum of energy. A burst of light. And the next moment, a swirling vortex of spatial essence tore itself into reality, expanding slightly to accommodate their heights. Placing a hand within the portal, Rahim looked back at them and said. "Come on, it's ready."
Aodhán gave a nod, turning to Daruk. "Are you ready?"
"I am," Daruk nodded. "At the very least, this will be an adventure."
Smiling, Aodhán took out his ID card and stepped into the portal behind Rahim, with Daruk bringing up the rear. As always, the world twisted around them in a blur of motion and color—thousands of hues swirling past—and the next instant, they emerged atop one of the seven spires of the Awakened Court, a structure so tall they could see nearly the entire sector sprawled out beneath them.
Unlike his last visit with Professor Dubois, the guards didn't bow in greeting. Instead, the lead guard—a hard-faced man clad entirely in what looked like liquid gold—extended a hand, requesting their IDs, despite their identities being more than obvious. At least Aodhán should've been.
They handed over their cards, and after a brief but thorough verification, the guard returned them and gestured for them to take the lift down.
The lift began its descent with a metallic groan, and as soon as they had a moment of privacy, Rahim clapped Aodhán on the shoulder. "Remember, patience is your suit of armor in a situation like this. The Council knows how to frustrate you, and they'll try. They'll delay, they'll probe, and they'll bait—but the last thing you should do is give in to it. Never give them a weakness to exploit because they will take it."
"Thank you," Aodhán said with a nod, genuinely appreciative. He glanced toward Daruk, hoping for some more words of motivation, but Daruk simply shrugged. "If this doesn't work, I'm telling Mum."
"What the— it will work. Fuck! Do not tell Mum anything."
"I'm just saying. You wanted motivation; there, you have it."
Shaking his head, partly amused, partly annoyed, Aodhán turned his attention to the massive structure of the Awakened Court itself. Perhaps the tension during his last visit had dulled his senses, because now, standing in front of it, he could truly appreciate the sheer scale and majesty of the place.
The colossal dome-shaped fortress stood nearly twenty meters tall, flanked by seven towering spires that loomed even higher. The entire building was forged from gold-plated Ragnar steel, and under the late morning sun, it shone with a blinding brilliance, further emphasized by the countless number of runes etched upon it.
Stained glass windows arced across its sides, bent and shaped to draw in and trap sunlight in brilliant patterns, and above the grand entrance fluttered a massive black-and-silver flag. Embroidered in gold upon it was the image of a roaring Ragnar—the sigil of the Awakened Council.
Daruk stared in stunned silence, wide-eyed at the overwhelming grandeur, having never seen it before, and when they eventually alighted from the lift, he muttered. "I don't curse often, but I feel like this warrants one."
Rahim chuckled. "The building is a marvel. It's the people within that aren't."
Rahim's comment sobered them up, and with a sigh, they made their way towards the massive entrance, passing by a literal battalion of soldiers all dressed in golden armor. When they reached the entrance, Aodhán turned toward one of the guards and asked, "I have a fine to pay off. Who am I to see?"
The guard pointed toward a smaller door on the left. "Clerks in the next hall will attend to you."
Rahim gave a nod of approval. "Better to get that one out of the way before the trial begins."
With confident steps, the three of them entered the side hall, where they found a row of gold-robe clerks standing behind their desks in a fashion not unlike that of a bank. Several rows of seats were set opposite the counters, where hundreds of people sat, awaiting their turn for whatever issue they had come here for. The buzz of murmured conversations, shifting paper, and distant clicking filled the air.
Muttering in annoyance about the delay, Aodhán, Daruk, and Rahim took their seats and settled in to wait. Fortunately, the line moved faster than expected, and within ten minutes, Aodhán's number was called.
He rose and approached the nearest counter, hoping that nothing would go wrong. The clerk behind the desk didn't even look up until Aodhán stood directly in front of him. And when he spoke, his voice was flat and uninterested. "How can I help you?"
"I'm here to pay a fine," Aodhán said. "For the use of my skills in a way that disrupted the lives of common citizens. My name is Aodhán Ashoka-Brystion. I'm a first-year student at the 5th Academy."
The clerk finally met his eyes—briefly—then typed into his console. He read for an uncomfortably long time, his expression blank. A full minute passed before the clerk spoke again. "Five hundred platinum coins. That is your fine."
Aodhán pulled out the coin pouch from his necklace and placed it on the table. The pouch landed with a heavy thud. Five thousand gold coins certainly weighed a ton. Still, it only took a few seconds for the clerk to count it all, and when he finished, he muttered. "The Awakened Court has received your fine. It should reflect in a week."
The smile of relief that had been blooming on Aodhán's face died instantly. "What do you mean, a week? I need to post bail for my brother in less than an hour. I can't do that if my record hasn't been officially cleared."
The clerk glanced at the pouch again, then shrugged. "I'm sorry, Sir Brystion, but that's our policy."
"No, no, no…" Aodhán leaned forward. "Is there no way to speed that policy up?"
Another look at the pouch. "Unfortunately, not. As I said, this is standard procedure."
Aodhán caught the hint and scowled. Wordlessly, he reached into his spatial necklace and pulled out fifty gold coins, placing them discreetly on the counter.
"How about now?"
The clerk raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean, sir."
Grinding his teeth, Aodhán added another fifty to the pile. Still, the clerk stared blankly. With a sigh of fury, Aodhán began stacking more coins, one handful at a time, until three hundred glittering gold coins lay neatly on the polished counter.
The clerk finally smirked and swept the coins out of sight. "I think I can shift it up to a day. Is that okay?"
"No," Aodhán snapped. "I told you—I have to post bail in under an hour. I said that earlier—you know what," he pulled out another three hundred coins and slammed them on the table. "Sort me out. Right now."
"Of course, sir." The clerk smiled and swiped the rest of the coins. Immediately, Aodhán's chip pinged with a notification that his fine had been cleared.
"Prick." He muttered under his breath as he turned away from the clerk without so much as a goodbye. He gestured toward Rahim and Daruk, and together they made their way back to the main entrance while Aodhán lamented about how corrupt the clerk was, further cementing Rahim's and Principal Zatya's words earlier.
Once they arrived at the main hall again and presented their IDs, the golden-clad guards opened the towering doors. Even though Aodhán had been here before, the sight still struck him: the vast interior, the echo of voices, and the grand design of the chamber carved in concentric circles of gold and black stone. There were fewer councilors than during his last visit, but they still numbered in the high hundreds, seated in arcane patterns that radiated from the center of the court like a sunburst.
Even with all the noise and motion, Aodhán was still able to pinpoint two familiar cores, and he turned towards them immediately. Seated in the 7th row on the left were Thalia Lightus and Fortuna Willowood, both of whom were staring at them. Thalia blinked, clearly surprised to be noticed when their gazes locked, but Fortuna took it in stride and even waved at them when they locked gazes.
Daruk leaned in. "What are they doing here?"
"I don't know." Aodhán shrugged. "Perhaps they are here for us."
"Or perhaps, they have their own business to attend to," Rahim muttered as he scanned the chamber for empty seats.
They found a trio not too far from the main stage and made their way toward it quickly, settling in just as the 7th Judge's voice rang out, his black robe rippling in a nonexistent breeze. "By order of the Awakened Court, we summon forth case 73. Let the accused step forward."
The accused was a gaunt man dressed in gray robes, with his arms and legs bound in thick, rune-inscribed chains. His skin was the color of gravel, and his curly brown hair sat atop his head like a slab of cement. Judging by his bloodline manifestation, Aodhán suspected him to be a noble, and his suspicions were proven correct a moment later when the 7th judge spoke once again.
"Thatcher Feldaran, fourth son of Baron Marcus Feldaran, you stand accused of multiple counts of sexual assault—each more damning than the last. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
The chamber fell silent.
All eyes turned to Thatcher, who stood motionless, head held high despite the chains weighing him down. His expression was unreadable—lips pressed in a thin line, eyes fixed on the judges with a hollow sort of defiance. He didn't speak. Didn't blink. For a moment, it seemed he believed his name alone would shield him. That being Feldaran meant something here.
But the silence only lasted for a few seconds before the crimson judge spoke, her voice sharp enough to cut steel. "Good of you not to waste our time with your lies. We have reviewed the evidence. We have heard the testimonies. There will be no delays. You are guilty."
Still, Thatcher remained rigid—his shoulders squared, chin slightly lifted.
The second judge spoke next, the twin water serpents behind him hissing to punctuate his words. "You have defiled your soul with the cry of children and innocents, Thatcher Feldaran. You have tainted your spirit with their blood. There is no redemption for men like you. There is no bail."
This time, Thatcher's composure cracked. His eyes widened in disbelief, darting to the 4th row, where his family sat frozen in horror. "What! Father—
A sudden wave of heat cut him off as the air thickened with the weight of judgment, gathering like a storm overhead. An elder rune flared into existence behind the judges, and a cascade of ancient runes followed, burning with golden light.
As one, the judges stretched forth their hands to him. The heat intensified, and the stage beneath Thatcher cracked.
He stumbled back, eyes wild as a shadowy miasma bled into the chamber. "No—no, please. Father, please—"
Thatcher cried out, but his pleas fell on deaf ears as the judges spoke in unison, their voices layered and inescapable, blanketing the court in overwhelming force. "For your crimes, you are stripped of your name, all rights, and all protections. Your core will be shattered, your existence erased. You shall serve your sentence in the depths of the Hollow."
Thatcher paled. He turned to flee, but the ground beneath him split open with a deafening groan, revealing a swirling void of darkness so profound that the mere sight of it made Aodhán shudder.
Around him, people flinched back in fear as Thatcher tumbled into the abyss, his scream for help fading as the Hollow consumed him.
The ground snapped shut with a sharp, echoing click.
The ground snapped shut with a loud click, and from one corner of the chamber, anguished cries erupted. The Feldaran family stood in stunned silence, their eyes wide and tearful as they stared at the judges.
Shaken, Aodhán whispered. "What is that void?"
Rahim shook his head. "Imagine the sink, but a thousand times worse. Rarely does anyone ever come out, and even when they do, they are never sane."
Aodhán tried to imagine a situation a thousand times worse than the sink, but his mind failed him. The elder rune faded a moment later, its glow dying out as if none of it had happened.
Then, with mechanical calm, the 7th judge picked up the next file and announced, "Case number 74, Aldric Brystion, accused of piracy and seafaring. Let the accused step forward."