Waterdeep; The City of Splendors, The Crown of the North, and also home to the Biannual Bifurcated Biffy Festival. And here, in a small courtroom, too big and boisterous a crowd had gathered. The judge was confused by such a turnout; as far as he’d been aware that afternoon’s case was a minor matter of some scuffle in a park. It transpired that the alleged victim of the crime was someone who at least fancied himself important; a tall, slick haired noble sporting a black eye with a bandage over his nose and one arm in a sling.
“He’s really making a meal of it,” the defendant grumbled under her breath, otherwise keeping her head down. She only came to this city to get some cheese.
“Order!” The gray haired judge determinedly banged his gavel. “ORDER!” After a moment things settled enough for individual voices to be heard above the commotion. “Read out the charges.”
A member of the city watch stepped forward in his green, white, and gold tunic, rolling out a scroll then intoning, “on the eve in question, the good Sir Nevil Windbreaker was returning to his villa from a fund-raiser for orphans, accompanied by other distinguished and charitable nobility and their guards. They were enjoying the serene environs of one of our fair city’s many fine parks, whereupon the party came upon the accused - the witch known as Aerie of Faenya-Dail - passed out in a bush. Fearing the lady to be in distress, Sir Nevil attempted to resuscitate her. Yet on coming round, far from being grateful for her timely rescue, the witch did set a flaming pig upon her saviors and attack them with her spells. The party attempted to restrain her and during the scuffle a magic orb did strike Sir Nevil in his manhood, thus placing the future of one of Waterdeep’s oldest bloodlines in grave peril. It was only thanks to the intervention of our brave city watch that the witch finally surrendered and was taken into custody, and the noble gonads were saved.” Some of the crowd were not as restrained as the watchman on hearing the word gonads. Nevertheless he continued to read from the sheet he had been given, “the charges are thus; assault, resisting arrest, illegal summoning of a swine, and attempted genocide.”
“Your honor,” Sir Windbreaker himself stepped up to address the judge and baying crowd, “I have a dozen witnesses who will corroborate this version of events,” he side eyed the diminutive elf stood with her head bowed in the dock. “I see no reason to waste the court’s time by entertaining this vagabond and foreigner,” his teeth gritted as if that were a dirty word, “who has no respect for our ways or the rule of law, any longer.”
Jeering and thunderous clapping and tapping from the crowd. One little boy threw an apple core which struck the elf on the cheek. She pretended not to notice, although it stung her more than the chains fastened tight around her wrists. It was like being back in the circus.
“ORDER!” The gavel came down repeatedly as members of the watch warned the crowd that neither they nor anything in their possession may cross their line. “Our laws demand that the accused is given a chance to speak. So, young lady,” he turned to the dock, ignoring the fact that as an elf she was likely two to three times his age, “have you anything to say?”
Aerie attempted to stand up straight, tugging down the hem of her sky-blue tunic and shaking strands of pale blonde hair away from her eyes. “Yes, sir,” she meekly said, “I-I-”
“WITCH!” came a screech from the crowd. “HUSSY!” Now where did that come from? She was being tried for walloping, not trolloping. Various other insults were being leveled at her, Aerie not knowing if the bile was genuine or if Windbreaker had organized it all. In her experience crowds didn’t need to be given much reason to jeer, yet it was certainly having an affect. Not because she cared about the insults, but because she clearly heard every single one along with every other sound in the room; the buzzing of a bee, a man snoring, a couple hidden somewhere at the back kissing. All of it. All at once. Like hundreds of mice scurrying and scratching around inside her head.
She swayed and swallowed, trying hard to push the extraneous noise out of her pointy ears. “I… I asked them to-”
“ORDER!” The judge hammered, each blow feeling like an icicle being driven behind her eye. “Young lady; you’re going to have to speak up.”
Another swallow accompanied by a breath. “I said, I asked them to leave me alone-”
“WITCH! HUSSY! ORDAAH!” The voices all came at once again, each slam of the frustrated judge’s gavel causing her to shiver. “YOU-NEED-TO-TALK-LOUDER!”
Aerie ducked inside the dock, knuckles turning white as she clenched. Well, whiter. She just needed a moment to breathe. To focus. She knew she was going down no matter what, but would rather go down swinging. She just needed to get her body to cooperate.
“Your honor,” Windbreaker snorted, “I think it is clear the defendant is in no fit mental state to answer questions, and any testimony she may give should be deemed unreliable.”
The judge hammered, leaning over his podium to ask an aide, “perhaps we should get a cleric in here?”
There was nothing wrong with her. Nothing another healer could help her with anyway. Tied to her belt was a small necklace, pendant in the form of a fluffy pink owlbear crudely carved and painted on wood. She’d been allowed to hold onto it because no magic could be detected within; just a piece of child’s jewelery. Yet as she breathed, focused on its round eyes, she heard her say:
‘Heya, kid. Don’t worry; I know you can do great out there.’
“It’s just,” Aerie sighed, repeating a conversation from the past, “so many people gawking and talking at me at once. I can’t pick out which ones I should be listening to.”
‘Well, the only voice you need to listen to is yours. Just imagine the rest of them as children. You know everyone was a child once; just the boring ones try to deny it. Even Jaheira was. You think she was born with a druid’s club in her hand and stern look on her face?’
“I think her first words were scolding the midwife for doing it all wrong.”
‘Nah. I bet she had pigtails when she was little, and ran around collecting daisies in a frumpy little dress. She’s given me an idea though; just imagine transforming yourself into something big, like a tiger, or an owlbear. Don’t actually do it, just imagine… what are you?’
“I’m,” Aerie sighed again, already feeling silly, “I’m an owlbear.”
‘Sorry, didn’t quite catch that; what’d you say you were?’
“An owlbear.”
‘Fowlwere?’
“Owlbear!”
‘Well then, let’s hear you roar!’
“I’M AN OWLBEAR!”
The courtroom fell eerily quiet, save the sound of Aerie slapping her hands over her mouth when she realized it was because of her. Well, at least now she had everyone’s attention, and the opportunity to say her piece and be heard.
“I was resting in the park, your honor,” she began, “when Sir Flatulence over there fell down next to me, his fellow nobles charitable enough to laugh as he made smooching noises in my ear and attempted to place his hand on my breast. When I attempted to leave he ordered two guards to block my path and insisted that as a foreigner I had to pay him for using a public park. And so, I summoned forth a creature that best matched the thoughts I was having about Sir Pants-Ripper at the time.”
“So,” the judge concluded, “you’re saying it was self-defense?”
“Your honor,” Sir Windbreaker interrupted, “this is someone with power equal to any archmage. The idea that she might have felt threatened by a few lads out on a stroll is frankly preposterous.”
“Oh,” Aerie confessed, “I did not feel threatened, your honor. I felt angry. How many times might Sir Passes-Gas have taken advantage of someone who hadn’t the power to fight him off?”
“Your honor,” Windbreaker squealed as murmuring spread through the crowd, at least a few questioning whose corner they really wanted to be in. “I insist you stop her from this petulant name-calling!”
“ORDER!” The judge banged, rolling his eyes. “Miss Dail-”
“Um, just Aerie. Sir.”
“I need to remind you that Sir Pas - Sir Windbreaker - is not on trial here, and you have been granted no authority to enact what you consider justice in this city. You especially have no right to judge a noble.”
“No, sir,” she admitted. “But, if wealth and social-standing are considerations in this court, then may your version of justice come to sit on this middle finger, whereupon she may spin.”
That got a cheer and some claps from the audience, and a deep furrowing frown from the judge whose wrist must have been getting tired by now. “And this… attempted genocide… was it an accident?”
“Um,” Aerie cleared her throat, “it was not, your honor. Finding Sir Cheese-Cutter’s manhood actually required pinpoint control and precision.”
The courtroom erupted, Windbreaker straining to be heard screaming, “SLANDERER!” as he threw off the sling trying to get at her. Members of the watch held him back as the judge furiously hammered.
Still, although she felt a twinge of satisfaction and won over some of the crowd, ultimately it was just the word of a strange foreign girl versus that of a local noble. Aerie was prepared and quietly accepting when her sentence came.
“Sir Nevil, you do have a reputation,” the judge glared, “however, vigilantism will not be tolerated here, and nor will the contempt you have shown this court. Aerie of Faenya-Dail, I hereby sentence you to six months. I suggest you use the time to rein in that attitude of yours. Dismissed.”
