Revelations

"Shit, dude, that was… intense.” Isabelle let go of him and stepped back, her hand instinctively going to her sword and gripping it tightly. Fuck. Glad he’s on my side. She slowly released her hold on her blade. “So, you’re Gaia’s champion. Or… one of them anyway. The Wardens of the Golden Rose were thought to fill that spot. Gods can usually only have one, but she’s said to be in a league of her own anyway.”

“You can tell that just from my aura? What just happened? Did you see something like what I saw?” John shook his head to clear it as he stepped away from her, watching as her aura slowly faded into the background.

“When two champions meet, if their auras intermingle, they see a sort of… vision of what deity the other represents. I had to touch you, since your aura doesn’t go far past your skin. You don’t have to be an expert at aura manipulation, mixing your aura with another champion just comes naturally. I’m the champion of the Goddess of the Sky, Astra.” She exhaled slowly and her eyes refocused on him. She decided to take a seat on the couch, so he followed suit, throwing himself into a chair across from her.

“I thought she gave me my powers, but I had no idea I was her champion…” John leaned back in his chair as his eyes glossed over the ceiling. “What does that even mean? Does she expect me to do something in particular?”

“Some deities - like Astra - don’t shut the hell up for more than a week at a time. I’ve met a few champions, and I’ve gotta say, it’s weird as fuck to meet a friendly one. If you don’t have any instructions in particular, it means Gaia is either laid back or fickle. Either way, best thing to do is to just use your powers while you have them. No use worrying over shit you can’t control” Isabelle answered, setting her sword down and appraising him as one would the Gordian Knot. “Fuck it. Over the next month, I’m going to keep an eye on you. Keep doing what you’re doing. Help people, take on contracts, get stronger.”

She offered her hand with a confident smile; her overly dainty handshake gave him an immediate flashback to her parrying impossibly quick slashes from her sister. I’m less fragile than she thinks! He squeezed harder than was polite, and she let out a booming laugh.

“That’s the spirit!” She rose to his challenge, and nearly broke his hand. His stoic mask cracked, and he withdrew, cradling the hand which Fist had already abused so much. “Oh, uh, sorry! Anyway, you’re needed at the trial of that Knight, and I’m supposed to bring you there. Hold on.” She grabbed his arm, and in the blink of an eye, he was against a handrail in a large room. Looking up, he saw several people leap up in their seats, auras bursting to life as they readied themselves to incapacitate this intruder.

“I don’t think I want to testify.” John backed slowly away from the spectators, into the middle of the room. It’s a courtroom, he realized, looking behind and seeing who he presumed to be the judge slamming a gavel down. To his left he saw Lucille and the Magician (or at least one of him) sitting at a table; assumedly he was her lawyer. To his right, he saw an unfamiliar woman in a dark wine red suit and a white jabot collar. She looked up at him, vision unblocked by the short cropping of brown hair on her head.

She was the only person in the courtroom who looked totally nonplussed by his entrance. When they locked eyes, she quirked an eyebrow at him as if to say, “Well? Am I supposed to be impressed?” His view of her was blocked by a pop-up.

You cannot resist Greater Compel Truth. While inside Rider-Waite Springfield Courtroom 1, you can only tell the truth.

“Sucks,” Isabelle replied with a shrug as she disappeared, entirely unapologetic for the dramatic entrance.

Even the jury (or who John assumed to be the jury, from what limited experience he had) seemed ready to jump him, and he shrunk even further back.

“Order! Order in the court! Though his entrance is less than procedural, I believe this is the new Four of Swords ordered to testify on the case, John Newman. Is that right?” John looked back towards the judge, a young man who looked to be in his late twenties. He sported an emerald robe with gold trim, and a quick Advanced Spy confirmed John’s suspicions; the only things really of note were that he was an experienced judge for the Rider Waites, that his name was Gene Mistrot, and that his rank was “Disciple of Judgement”.

“That’s correct. I’m not sure what exactly I’m supposed to do though. Am I testifying now? This is very sudden. Shouldn’t my arrival have been known?” He had no idea how the justice system worked in America or for the Rider-Waites, and aside from the occasional glimpse at a courtroom on T.V. or in a game, he had never even seen one.

“I assure you, John Newman, that both of the attorneys present were aware of your planned testimony. Please take a seat among the onlookers, and be ready to come to the witness’ stand.” He did as he was told, for a moment wanting to rush out the exit, but thought better of it. He didn’t have to wait long, however, and was soon called up.

“John Newman to the stand.” The authoritative man left no room for argument, and John simply did as he was told. The crowd had settled down, but eyed him warily. He scanned the room for any familiar faces, but saw none save for the defendant and her attorney.

So she made it out of the forest, and now there’s a trial for what she’s done. Some advanced notice would have been nice. I still haven’t unpacked that whole mess. She tried to kill us, but she also tried not to kill us. I wonder what she’s specifically on trial for? What could her sentence be? Do they imprison people? Could she be executed? She DID kill other-

“John Newman! Please pay attention.” His train of thoughts crashed and burned as he was brought back to reality by the judge. “Are you of sound mind and body, and will you answer the questions asked of you to the best of your ability?”

Though the words weren’t chosen for him, he found himself unable to even entertain the thought of answering in the negative. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Good. Kornar, you may begin your questioning.” The prosecutor rose, and an Advanced Spy on her was met with only an error message.

“John Newman, can you please point out the woman known to you as Lucille Palmer in this courtroom?” He pointed to his erstwhile companion, refusing to look into her crosshair eyes.

For another hour he was pelted with questions in turns from both sides, first the plaintiff, then the defense, then the plaintiff again. Through them, he told the story of Lucille’s companionship and sudden yet inevitable betrayal. His heart turned to ice when he was **** to recall watching her **** Filaurel, and he still hadn’t decided what his personal stake in all this was.

“Yes, she did try to kill me, Abigail Firenzia, and Elizabeth Sparks, but I don’t think she wanted to.” The words felt right leaving his mouth; despite everything she had done, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry enough to want her dead, the outcome which seemed more and more likely.

“I move to strike that from the record, your honor,” Kornar immediately interjected, stopping his speech in its tracks.

“Granted, please keep opinions out of your testimony, Mr. Newman,” Gene chided, side-eyeing John.

“No further questions, your honor,” Kornar stated, looking pleased with herself. She sat down, and her smugly satisfied expression made John’s skin crawl.

He was ushered from the stand and told that he could stay for the rest of the trial with the onlookers or wait outside in the case that he was called back in for any reason. He decided to wait outside, and a short while later he was told he could leave. He asked for the verdict, but was told it would be published in the weekly Rider-Waite news report.

I’ve been faced with **** before, but when it’s so… clinical. So matter-of-fact, it’s disgusting. Inhuman, he stumbled out of the barrier, and the halls looked unfamiliar, this wasn’t the main base. Walking through the halls of this foreign building, he soon recognized it to be the side base not far from the main one. He took out his phone;; Jenny’s smiling face on his lock screen was comforting.

John: Hey
John: Sorry I’ve been MIA for the past day. Are you home?

He found the exit and left the building, soon after leaving the barrier. Though it would have been much faster to get to his dormitory and take the waypoint to his apartment, he instead unequipped his combat regalia and equipped a simple gray sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. It had been months since he had walked so slowly, so without intent. Sure, there had been short breaks every now and then, but nothing substantial. Nothing more than to help regain his strength.

I need a break. Training every day for the tests, actually doing the tests, and his first contract. The last month and a half was been way too busy, he decided, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Jenny: Yeah! I’m not playing today, so I’m just chilling here, what’s up, Johnny?
John: Today has been a giant punch in the stomach
John: I’m going to be there soon. Can we do something simple? Watch a movie or something?
Jenny: You got it! I’ll find something for us

That should have put a spring in his step, but instead he felt his mood worsen. Who knew that staring down guns and explosive flames wouldn’t prepare someone for the sterile reality of a courtroom?

He was home much too soon, only the thought of the comfort Jenny would provide compelled him to leave the relative unfamiliarity of being outside. I’ve seen the tops of these buildings more than I’ve seen the actual street I live on, he mused to himself as the elevator doors opened, and he shuffled to his apartment.

The savory smell of pizza wafted through the open door, pulling him inside. The room was dark, the curtains drawn and the lights off. Jenny’s form was silhouetted against the only source of light in the room, their television. He looked to the kitchen table and saw a box from Gino’s, which meant Jenny went through the pain of ordering from there and risking the awkwardness of taking pizza from a previous partner. “I thought-”

“It doesn’t matter, I know you like them better,” she replied, and as she approached he saw that she was wearing nothing but a black t-shirt and panties. She pulled him into the apartment and shut the door, guiding him to the couch and sitting down, pulling him into her arms.

He looked to the screen and saw Space Battles Installment IV: A Recent Faith was about to start playing. “I thought you didn’t like Space Battles?”

“I can give it another try. Now hush, the movie’s starting.” She brushed an errant lock of hair from his forehead before planting a kiss on him. He sunk back into her, the troubles in his mind standing no chance against his favorite movie with his favorite person.