1/7 Chapter 79: Jack, What Did You Do?

Layla missed breakfast.

Well, not really.

The two men returned less than ten minutes later, dazed but dopey grins on their faces, and sat down to eat breakfast, though both simply stared at the bar wall and smiled dreamily for most of the meal.

Rory: That has to be disappointing.
Layla: Not at all. Safe amount of yum; no time wasted on scrubs. Half-elf didn’t even get his pants off.
Erin: Gross.
Jack: But… can you feed, if they don’t… you know, finish.
Layla: Oh, Jackson, they always finish. More than once, usually. Half-elf finished in his breeches. (◕‿◕✿)
Erin: Honestly, how the fuck are you doing that?
Layla: Just focus. Be down in a second.
Erin: (╯°□°)╯ ┻━┻

The dreadnought leapt up from her seat at the low table, “I DID IT!”

“Everyone’s staring, hon,” Jack pressed his lips together to keep from smiling.

Erin suddenly remembered where she was and sat down, sheepish expression on her face.

“So, if I remember the list, magistrate, armorer, Blackwicke Manor, then the workaholic wants to hit the Guildhall, right?” Rory grinned and sipped his juice.
“Sounds right,” Erin replied, still looking at the floor and trying not to grin.

Tilly picked up their empty plates and refilled Rory and Erin’s drinks from a pitcher.

“‘Pologies, Master Rory, fer doubtin’ the lassie,” she nodded.
“It’s alright, Tilly. We understand,” Rory smiled indulgently.

Layla bounced down the steps in a fresh outfit, wearing her mirage once again, and joined the others near the fireplace.

“So, what’s the plan?” she chirped, visibly brightened by her “meal”.
“Magistrate, armorer, Blackwicke’s, then Jack wants to go check out the quest board and the Guildhall,” Rory repeated.
“Workaholic,” the succubus rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get going,” Jack grinned.

According to Tilly, each ward had at least two magistrates’ offices, which handled things like legal inquiries and civil disputes, but the Courthouse proper was a large building on the south side of the Cross Ward. The Courthouse also served as the city’s jail, but that particular facility was built into the earth below Moryven and was rather ominously referred to as “The Stockade”.

The four packed up and headed toward the Cross Gate. When they reached the Watchhouse there, the guards on duty pointed them south along the exterior wall. Another block or so, and the Courthouse loomed over the buildings around it.

“This is the biggest building I’ve seen since we got here,” Rory eyed the grey edifice with suspicion.
“Well, apparently, there’s a prison for super-powered criminals below it, and it handles all the crime and court cases in a city of thousands of people,” Layla replied.
“Come on, let’s find someone and get this over with,” Jack pushed forward.

The clerical staff of the Courthouse were surprisingly helpful compared to their Earth equivalents, and in no time, Jack had given his statement to the crisply dressed Examiner in charge of Madpike’s prosecution. The Examiner’s eyes were currently glowing with a gentle golden light, which he had explained was a simple spell to detect lies, and a formally required part of the interview. 

The attorney/interrogator had requested Jack remove his patch, then summoned another Court employee carrying a small, rectangular magical device. The new arrival, who Jack recognized as the silver-haired half-elf from their first morning in Moryven, cast a spell that momentarily coated Jack in a haze of white mana, then gathered up the swirling mana with a gesture and coaxed it into the device. The process was similar to what Jack had witnessed when a smith bonded a pattern of aether to a magic item.

“Scuse me, but what’s all that for?” Rory interjected.

The half-elf infused a small amount of sparking mana into the device, and a translucent three-dimensional image of Jack appeared over the item, complete with grisly wounds. She reached up and made a fist, then opened it again near the image’s face, causing the illusion to zoom in on Jack’s ruined eye.

“Well, that’s neat,” Layla commented.
“It’ll serve as evidence of your wound, even if you are healed before Madpike is set to stand trial. With the amount of evidence we’ve collected, there will be no chance of his being released before then. We believe the Magistratum, that’s the council of magistrates that reviews cases before trial, will upgrade his charges to attempted murder,” the prosecutor smiled grimly.
“Happy to help. Anything else you need?” Jack asked.
“Not currently. If the Magistratum requires your testimony in person, will you still be in Moryven at the start of next month?” he began shuffling the papers together and placing everything regarding the case into a large tray.
“We’re not sure, really, but it’s possible,” Jack replied.
“Very well. This should be enough for a conviction regardless. You have our thanks. If you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment,” he shook Jack’s hand and gestured to the office door.

The Chosen filed out of the Courthouse and began leisurely walking toward the north end of town.

“That was… shockingly efficient,” Layla commented.
“Yeah. Do you sorta get the sense that the legal system actually kind of… works here?” Rory scratched his head.
“I mean, they have truth magic, and magical videotape, and probably classes and magical powers that only work if you’re big on truth, justice, and the Moryven way,” Layla replied.
“You think?” Jack asked.
“Remember your paladin option back in the cave? Bet it had abilities that required you act a certain way. If not, I’m sure there’s something like that here. Notice how the Examiners and the court employees were all really direct and honest?” Layla answered.
“Maybe,” Jack replied absently.

They meandered slowly across town, toward the north end of the Black Ward where Ashhand’s smithy was located. It was approaching noon, so the four stopped to each a quick lunch in the Market Ward at an open-air cafe that served something like kebabs. Jack skipped lunch, waving off Rory’s question with a thin excuse about not being hungry.

Finally, with lunch out of the way, they made their way to Ashhand’s shop, where the half-giant smith was unfortunately not in residence. The girls walked away from the shop to gawk at the Lock, watching the swirling Tide mana produce small rivers of water in a steady stream.

“Orden, how are ya?” Jack greeted the journeyman.
“Well, Master Jack. Your items are ready, including that commission,” the smith replied.
“Oh, wow. Already? We’re all settled up, right?” Jack asked.
“Indeed. Raegyn wants to speak to you about the commission. Apparently, the dagger was… odd,” the smith narrowed his eyes at Jack.
“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Jack grinned.
“What dagger?” Rory’s head suddenly snapped around.

He slapped his waist where the quillion’s sheathe hung empty, then opened his storage and began to fish through the aperture.

“Jack! Where’s my dagger!? How did you… where… when?!” the salesman gawked at him.
“When you were sleeping, by the fire, the first night. Gettin’ slow, Boston,” Jack laughed.

The smith unwrapped Rory’s quillion and handed it to the salesman. The blade trailed a barely visible streamer of venomous green light, like a poisonous after image.

“Jack, what did you do?” Rory’s eyes narrowed.
“Had a master smith upgrade your dagger,” he grinned again.
“BUT HOW?! All the materials we were going to use were in my storage?!” the salesman ranted.
“Well, next time, don’t get so blackout drunk you agree to give me all the materials I ask for,” Jack replied smugly.
“How did you pay for this?!” Rory continued to yell.
“You paid for it,” Jack snerked. “Well, the group paid for it.”
“Did you two know about this?!” Rory wheeled on the girls.

The two had been hiding their smiles behind their hands for a solid minute now, and finally lost their composure, devolving into a fit of giggling that echoed across the Lock.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he scowled. “Fucking… fine… Appraise.”

“Oh… oh, Jackson… you beautiful bastard.”

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