by GM Gambrell
Eleven
Duncan blinked into existence in his parent’s sitting room. He was at first relieved that he was alone but then scared when he saw the three red-armored Magistrates in the room with him. The men were bigger than regular men, and he knew they used intense body modification spells to make them appear larger. They wanted to seem intimidating and they did a good job of it. The three looked at him with only mild surprise, and their commander stepped forward, immediately taking his hands and locking them in a set of fire cuffs that would burn if he struggled.
His mother rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him. “Duncan. I was so worried about you. They’ve accused you of the vilest things. They said you worked with Diamond Jim to blow up the courthouse. People died.”
“I didn’t do it,” he said flatly, but was sure they’d all seen the same memory stone. “If they’ll cast a truth spell on me, they’ll see my innocence.”
“Memory stones cannot be altered, citizen, so you’re obviously lying. Despite your dishonesty, you will get a fair and complete trial before your sentencing,” the commander of the trio said.
“You know better than that, Captain,” his father said, coming to his side and looking in his eyes. Duncan saw genuine worry there. “You don’t get to convict him here, with memory stones. There has to be an actual trial.”
“I said he’d have a fair trial, which is more than his kind deserves. And once he is convicted, I will be happy to carry out the sentencing.” The commander of the Magistrates seemed almost ecstatic at the idea of carrying out whatever sentence he envisioned Duncan having.
“You also said he’d be sentenced, which is assuming he’ll be found guilty,” his father replied. “That is not how the law operates.”
“I have the fullest faith in our justice system, Mr. Cade,” the commander said. “As should you, considering you were once one of us. Need I remind you of your own history?”
“You don’t have to remind me of anything,” Albert Cade spat as if the memory of serving as a Magistrate was the most distasteful thing he could think of. “We can end this here and now. Cast a truth spell on the boy, or allow us.”
“No, sir,” the big man replied. “Truth spells can be altered. He might very well be under the guise of some enchantment right now. No, the Lord Probate will sort this out. He will be tried in front of the Lord Probate with physical evidence and the accounts of the witnesses, along with the memory stones.”
“What are the charges?” Duncan asked. “Don’t I have the right to know what the charges are?”
“You are a non-magical creature, and so, no, you do not have rights according to our constitution, but for the benefit of your father, an honored veteran of the Magistrate, I will tell you. You are being charged with one count of wanton destruction of public property, two counts of murder for the two men killed in the bombing, as well as fifty-seven counts of violating the pact against Science for the objects in your shop.”
His parents visibly cringed at the word science and he was sure his father was about to lash out. He held his temper and said, “How dare you speak that word in my house? How dare you accuse my son of that vile practice?”
Duncan still had no idea what the word science meant and wasn’t sure why he was being accused of fifty-seven counts of it. There were very few mentions of the word in the books he’d read in the Secret Library, and even when it was mentioned, it wasn’t in any great detail.
“I don’t know what that word even means,” he complained. “How can I have done it?”
“You will have to explain it to the Lord Probate,” the Magistrate commander told them and then teleported them out of the room.