Mandred's Trial
by Zapenstap
Kyra Anderman removed her sunglasses as she stepped inside the lobby of the Alfarian Courthouse, feeling like she was stepping into a glamorized subway station in a foreign country. White marble paved the floors, but it glimmered like white crystal out of the corner of her eye, and the columns that marched down the sides against the walls were impressive. The building looked like a palace reformed to serve as a corporate office, only with that brilliant Alfarian style that made eveything formal look like a structure from heaven. Kyra folded her glasses and tucked them into her bag.
Alfarians crossed the hallway individually or in groups. A dozen or so crossed her path in under a minute, some striding with a singular purpose and others gliding together in a social stroll. It'd been a few months since Kyra's last trip to Elneira, but it never ceased to amuse her to see so many all at once. In any place but this place they isolated themselves. But here there were no cover-ups, no mirages, nothing to make them "blend-in." A young Elneiran girl with long, silky white leaned against the entrance to the Courtroom. It took Kyra a moment to recognize imperial princess Anayla.
"We really should have brought Heero," Kyra remarked to Immilie casually. "Don't you think he'd want to see this?"
In actuality, Immilie's pale platinum blonde hair was threaded with white silver. Not gray, but actual white-silver, like slivers of glitter or snow falling down her head in running streams. She masked that in places outside her homeland, where such things were downright bizarre, but here, where magic made the very air feel crisp and full of thunder, there was no need. Immilie looked at her, crossing her arms. Her eyes were pale blue, like crystal, but they shone with warm light. She was shorter than Kyra, but she somehow gave the impression of looking down without condescension. "No," the Alfarian woman murmured in reply. "I think the glowing was quite enough for him."
Kyra chuckled. "Getting nervous?"
"No, not yet. Are you always this inquisitive?"
Kyra ignored what she considered to be a rhetorical question. "I'm sure he's more relaxed than you."
"I wouldn't doubt it," Immile said. "Though I'm not the one in... prison."
Kyra snorted. Prison... Mandred's "prison" looked like a suite in a four-star hotel.
"I'd trade rooms with him," she said seriously, remembering her dusky apartment with cracked floorboards and dripping faucets.
Immilie laughed. "Even with the restrictions and guards and locked door?"
"I'm used to those," she said, again in utmost sincerity. Besides, unless such gadgets were made by Ranlath, Kyra would bet her life Mandred would open his those restricting contractions and escape with none the wiser should he so choose.
Immilie laughed again. "Let's get seated, shall we?"
Kyra nodded and they crossed the room to speak with Anayla, who still stood beside the doors like a slender birch tree, her hands pressed against the wall behind her lower back.
"Hey, Kyra," the princess greeted them. "Miss Immilie. You've both got reserved seats, I hear."
"Because this is entertainment," Immilie said crossly.
"I'm entertained by it," Kyra confessed. "Anybody else here that I know?"
"Certainly," Anayla replied with a whimsical smile. "Ruler Kiayne traveled here all the way from Calanor and bought herself the judge's seat."
"Bought?" Immilie exclaimed, half scandalized.
"Excellent," Kyra remarked. Kiayne was a character. "Then I really will be entertained. Who else?"
"Quenden, Wushair, and Ranlath, of course."
Immilie nodded her head expectantly. Those were some of the other Masters. They alone were reason enough for a gathering of Alfarians across Elviron.
"Among the mortal-types, Falora Eredes and Melontra Swordelven both showed up," Anayla added.
"Melontra?" Kyra said in some surprise. She'd expected Falora, but not Mel. "Groovy. Coran's here too."
"There's more," Anayla murmured sweetly, "but you should go in and be seated. They'll be calling order fairly soon and you'll want some time to chat. Everybody's laying bets on the sentence."
Kyra laughed out loud as Immilie shook her head and they were both escorted inside. The room was like a large lecture hall, only with a railed-off stage in front. Tables were set up for the defendant and prosecutor and the witness stand and judge's box were fixed on the stage, all made of carved marble. The room itself was filled with Alfarians, several hundred of them, more than Kyra had seen all at once in a long time. Not one of them glowed and not all of them were strange looking, but those that were drew no extra notice, not here. Once inside, Immilie spotted friends of hers and she and Kyra parted for the time before things really got started. Kyra ran down the steps, her boots clunking heavily, and wound her way between Alfarians, some she knew and some she didn't, before sliding in beside a slender, blonde woman standing by the rail in front of the stage.
Melontra Swordelven did not look at her immediately, arms crossed, staring straight ahead. Despite her delicate features and long, wispy blonde hair that hung lightly to her waist, Melontra was not a delicate woman. Her muscles were well-toned and she wore men's clothing, soft browns and greens for hunting, though cut trim for a woman's figure. In her eye there was a sharpness, an almost cynical afterglow that accented her ridged femininity strangely and sorrowfully. Melontra was mortal but not human. She looked human to most eyes, but in actuality she was Elven, or something the Alfarians considered part of the elvish category. She was the last of her particular tribe, from a world with a history so sordid with war she made the Gundam War look like a walk in the park. It was the Dark Age that never ended, never slowed. There was almost nothing left in Krathia that could be considered civilization; everything was chaos. Perhaps she had come by request, perhaps on a whim.
"I was wondering if you were going to come," Melontra cut her off wryly with that smooth, low voice of hers, still not looking in Kyra's direction. "I heard you were mixed up in all this. Not that it surprises me."
"They always call me first," Kyra returned. "Now that I think about it, General Swordelven, they should have asked you."
"From what I've heard," Melontra began with the beginnings of her infamous cynical humor, "my presence would probably have made the situation worse than it already was."
"It still would have made for interesting confrontation," Kyra speculated. "I would have enjoyed seeing you mock everybody, even those who don't deserve it." She was not jesting. Had Melontra been there, everybody would have gotten their ideals verbally kicked. Melontra's ideology on war was strange and contradictory. She believed in justice and in forgiveness, but she would and had killed without mercy if her task called for it. Perhaps in that she was a bit like Heero, so efficient and practical about it all, but there were differences between them, and Melontra was constantly shifting. It was difficult to say what she believed exactly, but she had lived with war all her life, which was considerably longer than her apparent age, and she'd seen a great deal. Whatever she actually believed, she mocked everything too, and when it didn't matter so much, it was quite funny. But then, Melontra's world was a lost cause and Melontra had long ceased trying to save it. If she had grown callous about death and pain and suffering to the point where it was comical, well, Kyra could not blame her.
"I hear they've achieved some form of Universal Peace," Melontra said smoothly. There was no emotion in her tone, no indication of what she thought of that.
"Well, everyone wanted it," Kyra replied.
"How peculiar," Melontra said. "Impossible it seems to me, but I suppose it makes sense, if things are globalized enough. Of course, it probably won't be that way forever. As soon as the people who've made this thing have passed, others with less understanding will take their place and conflict will begin anew. If their predecessors have done a good job, and there's a feeling of habit about it, it might take a few decades, maybe longer, but war will come again. It always does. There are plenty of ambitious bastards out there looking for a game, and it doesn't matter what they believe. It only takes one to start a conflict."
"You don't have to tell me," Kyra said, raising her hands in defense. "I'm just trying to have a conversation. You and Mariemaia can drink to it sometime. You'll have to drink tea, though; she's only nine."
"Yeah, well, I was only ten when I started. What's Mandred got to do with all of this?"
Only ten when she started what? Drinking or warfare? But Melontra apparently wanted to change the subject.
"Nothing with the war. He took in the gundam pilot Heero Yuy."
"I see," Melontra said in remembrance. "That's a very Mandred thing to do. And Teleb just showed up?"
"Something like that," Kyra replied.
"I hope he left him bleeding."
"I wasn't there."
"What were you doing?"
"Wheezing for air. I got thrown into a wall."
"Again? They like to do that," Melontra commented. "You seem to have recovered, though."
"Sort of like the time I got in a fight with that dragon," Kyra said off-handedly, but then she grinned. Everyone was still griping about the praise she got from that encounter. She hadn't done anything except get her ass kicked, but somehow the rumor got started that she was a dragon slayer and she couldn't shake it.
Melontra knew the truth, though, and chuckled with the memory. So did most Alfarians.
"Teleb was really mean to Relena," Kyra said with emphasis. "I'm sure the Council will judge accordingly."
"Teleb has a lot to pay for. Relena's the pacifist right?"
"At one time."
"Did Teleb light her on fire?"
"I can't really say what he did exactly, but the results were similar."
"He likes to do that as I recall. It's a bitch," Melontra finished.
"You would know."
Melontra nodded slowly. "I don't think Mandred has too much to worry about, especially if he captured a Renegade in the defense of an Outworlder."
"Nobody does, but I hear they're laying bets. Besides, that's not exactly what happened."
"I thought you were wheezing and missed it?"
"I'd recovered by then."
Melontra grinned. "I've got some stakes in on the sentence myself."
Kyra laughed.
"Hey, Kyra!"
Kyra turned to see Coran and Falora heading her way. Coran was gorgeous as ever, and totally hers, and Falora was bouncing up and down like a child, grinning from ear to ear. All was well in the world.
" S'up," she said to her fiance.
"Nothing much," Coran replied, and his hands slipped around her waist. She leaned back against the rail, trying to get used to the public display of affection that had made her feel uncomfortable most of her life. She liked his hands there, just not in front of everybody, but she had promised she would try. "Did you get us good seats?"
"Oh, the best," Kyra grinned. "We'll be sitting right behind the defendant."
"Oh! Then we can make fun of him all through the trial!" Falora said excitedly.
"Has anyone ever told you how squirrely you are?" Melontra said to her old friend with a mock-condescending bite.
"All the time," Falora returned with an impish grin. Hell, the girl was proud.
"We should sit down," Coran suggested. "They'll be starting soon."
The girls agreed to this, so they marched back across the room and found their seats. Immilie was already there. Greetings were exchanged and then the trial began with Alfarian General Soronith calling for order. Kyra was startled when she was handed, of all things, a program. Flipping it open, she saw it was a recap of the Gundam War, including pictures of the gundams themselves, a brief profile on all the important people, including pictures of them, a recap of Mandred's profile and involvement on that world, and a rendition of Teleb's attack and how it was dealt with.
"I thought trials were arranged to find out the truth," Melontra said, reading the rendition with an arched eyebrow.
"But everyone believes Mandred," Falora said cheerily. "And he pleaded guilty."
"So this is like story-telling time," Melontra explained to herself with a voice tinged with sardonic amusment. "And if we like the story, Mandred walks, and if we don't like it, he gets punished."
"Pretty much," Coran said dryly.
Immilie groaned. "This is a circus."
"But no one's doing any tricks," Coran countered.
"We could always hire Trowa," Falora suggested. "And I can tumble."
"Tumble him or perform by yourself?" Kyra asked insidiously. Falora made a face at her.
"I love Alfarians," Melontra said to no one in particular, laying her program on her lap and looking straight ahead. "They bring joy to my sad, pathetic life."
"That's nice," Kyra said in an upbeat tone. "Real nice. Oh, stop whining, Immilie. This was your idea, remember? Everything will be fine. Kiayne is judging. She loves Mandred."
"I don't whine. And Kiayne has a twisted sense of humor," Immilie said. "And I didn't know there would be this many people."
"They auctioned off the last few seats," Melontra supplied in her most casual tone.
Immilie sighed.
"It just means he's popular," Melontra whispered with mock sympathy.
By this point, everybody trying to maintain a serious expression bubbled with laughter.
"Ohhhhh! Here he comes!" Falora said from the other side of Melontra, repeatedly slapping the Elven woman's shoulder. Melontra looked at her without expression. Falora didn't notice.
But she was right. The audience was seated, the buzz had died to a low murmur and in a window of silence Mandred walked in from a door on the left of the stage. He was met by General Soronith as soon as he entered the room and was escorted respectfully to the defendant's table. His eyes swept the crowd as he turned to face the room, and was met by unblinking silence.
A lone voice cheered.
A second later the entire room erupted in a roar of applause. Before Kyra knew it, there was a standing ovation, and whistles and shouts reverberated from wall to wall. She shared a look with Coran and he grinned, twisting to look back at the crowd. Immilie sat primly, chin lifted, hands in her lap, but her eyes gleamed with something like pride.
"Just really popular," Melontra repeated, crossing her arms and kicking her feet up to the back of the chair in front of her.
"Way to go, Mandred!" Falora cheered as Mandred sat at the defendant's table only fifteen feet or so in front of them. He twisted around to look at them, a peculiar look in his eye.
Mandred swept his gaze over the crowd. "They're all going to turn on me, aren't they?" he hypothesized suspiciously to himself.
"They're unpredictable," Kyra said. "But I don't think you have too much too worry about. It's not like you're not a Renegade."
"No," Mandred said. "That I am not."
Kyra realized she'd put a serious note to the conversation and berated herself silently for spoiling the mood.
"How did Teleb's trial go?" Falora whispered suddenly in a hushed, subdued tone. Her face was more child-like than usual.
"He took The Remedy," Mandred said quietly. Falora lowered her eyes and played with her hands.
"Who did it?" Coran asked.
"Quenden," Mandred said.
Coran whistled. "Ouch. I'm surprised. Teleb was one of the nicer ones."
"Is," Mandred corrected.
"He survived?" Coran said, and sat back in thoughtful silence, "...wow."
Mandred nodded. "If it hadn't involved me and my relationship with Heero and his with Relena, Quenden probably wouldn't have taken it. But we've known each other a long time. And we Masters have grown close since we returned."
Quenden was the Master Cleric, so of course he was good.
"Teleb's here today actually," Immilie said. "I saw him when I spoke to Ranlath. He's with Quenden right now."
Kyra said nothing. She had attended Teleb's trial, and other Renegade trials. Renegades entered the courthouse arrogant and usually left arrogant. It was the judgment that tamed them, the actual carrying out of the sentence. Some who had seen or heard of the effects of judgment never even made it to court. They committed suicide on capture or in the time of holding before the trial. Few people were happy when that happened. The wise wanted Renegades to take The Remedy, though it left everyone with an obligation.
The Remedy wasn't used until the first of the Renegade Trials, so the Renegades didn't know about it, or didn't understand it. When they were captured, they often heard about it, and the word had since spread. Indeed, they were told in detail what it was during their trial, but they rarely understood it. They thought it was a punishment for their bad deeds, an eye-for-an-eye treatment of what they had done to their victims, or some sort of counseling session, both which only amused them. But it was neither.
The Remedy could not be performed by anybody. It could only be done by Clerics, Saints of God, and it didn't always matter if they were even Alfarian. Denla Avenel had done it once, and she was human. But it was usually done by Alfarians simply because the reaction could be dangerous to mortals, whereas Alfarians could protect themselves. It was also a courtesy to Renegades to be treated by an Alfarian stronger than them, for Renegades believed they were better than mortals for being what they were, and The Remedy had a better effect if their arrogance was indulged in the beginning.
"Are you going to tell Heero and Relena?" Falora asked Mandred. "They were most hurt by Teleb."
"They wouldn't understand," Mandred said. "They would think it an injustice that he was not killed."
"He would like to be," Immilie added. "He begged for death several times but was unable to kill himself."
"He knew that before he agreed to it," Mandred said. "He was told that others would be prevented from taking his life. He scoffed. They all do."
Kyra looked at the ground. Renegades that better understood The Remedy killed themselves before trial. After the process was completed, suicide was difficult. Some had gone mad after, others that were already suspected to be mad regained sanity. If it was bad enough, they sometimes did kill themselves, usually in a frenzy of self-horror, but if they survived until the end, suicide was almost beyond comprehension. And Teleb had survived. As Coran had said, he was one of the nicer ones.
"How's he doing now?" Kyra asked. She had heard of only two cases of recovery, and only one in excess, but there were a few like Teleb.
"Surprisingly well, I hear," Mandred said thoughtfully. "He got a taste of his own medicine when I fought him before. He thought he was prepared, but of course, he misunderstood. Even so, I think knowing first hand what he did to Relena felt like helped him get through it. Even so, he doesn't speak to anyone but Clerics."
"You did to him what he did to Relena?" Falora said, leaning over the chair. "That's not like you, Mandred."
"It wasn't nearly so bad," Mandred said. "I said I gave him a taste of it, but I hate to see needless suffering. It was not even enough to disable him."
"Hmm," Coran said. "That's what most people would want, though."
"The basest of human desires," Immilie said in a low voice. "Like witch trials and capital punishment. Good people who feed off of the suffering of others, whether good or evil, is a hellish instinct. And yet in every age and every society we see it. People who feel wronged do worse to those who wronged them and feel justified. They watch death and torture with a sense of entertainment, and teach their children that such a thing is righteous."
Kyra nodded. She'd known someone who once went to see a man on Death Row get electrocuted. Her friend hadn't known him or the family he murdered, but even if she had, Kyra found it disgusting. It was not that she was against capital punishment; sometimes killing criminals was easier on everybody, but she didn't believe in making death a spectacle of entertainment, of encouraging feelings of hate. She didn't believe human beings were capable of distributing true justice. She'd rather they just deal death if they must and leave justice to God.
The Remedy wasn't meant to be a punishment. It was meant to be a cure.
But it was hard on more than just the Renegades. Those who went through it were called Renewed. Not all the Renewed had once been Renegades; they could be anybody, but it depended on the reaction of others whether or not any of them recovered completely. So it was hard on everyone. At worst, they had to be treated like children, allowed to start over, not like criminals, and that was the responsibility of everyone. If past deeds were not forgiven and forgotten, how could anyone recover and reenter society? But though such a thing may not have been possible for mortals, or at least difficult, to Alfarians it was easier. Grudges were pointless; there was too much life to waste time on them, and those who had lived long enough and took heed what they learned over the years were wise, and the wise knew mercy. It was mercy that children needed, and forgiveness, and acceptance and above all, love. Really, it was what anybody needed, but it was highly important to people with memories of a very different sort of existence. She didnt claim to fully understand it herself. She couldn't make the connection between the Renegades and the Renewed. They seemed like completely different people to her.
Kyra turned around to see if she could spot Teleb in the crowd, but she could not even find Master Quenden. She would not be allowed to talk to him, she knew. Too complicated.
"I think," Melontra interjected suddenly, "that we should have brought cheese and crackers as trial snacks."
And suddenly the good mood was back. Nothing ruffled Melontra's feathers for long.
"This isn't the theater," Immilie said in exasperation. "They've been doing this the whole time, Mandred," she said crossly.
Mandred smiled at her. "Ah. Now who needs to lighten up, love?" He pointed at the crowd. "I believe Wushair has snacks."
Kyra turned to look.
Master Wushair sat on the other side of the room in the same row as Kyra and the others. Because they were in the front row, there was no one sitting in front of her. Not that it would have mattered to Wushair, but she had set a folding table before her knees, laid with a small plate loaded with several sorts of crackers and a variety of spreads.
"Of course," Melontra said with dry practicality. "That's where I got the idea."
Wushair was known for breaking social rules. She was a master like Mandred, Ranlath and Quenden, but she was more peculiar than all three. Her hair was like a flame sitting atop her head. It was translucent when the light hit it just right and even seemed to burn sometimes. Red with a pinkish overtone, like a manderin cherry, it always seemed to be reaching up into the sky instead of to the ground. It didn't stick straight up exactly, but it curled that way, like fire. Her coat was black and reached down to her calves, but it had a wide, flattened collar, was gathered in at the waist and open in the front. White silk lapels ran down either side of the front, scrolled with silver runes. Underneath her elaborate, magician-like coat, she wore a simple black tank top and skin-tight black pants that reached to her ankles and soft slippers.
"If you cut off her pants and removed her coat, she's look a little like Heero," Falora said thoughtfully.
"I bought him new clothes," Mandred said in his defense.
"I picked most of them out," Immilie added.
Melontra ignored the interjection of the Alfarian couple. "Aside from being a woman, having flaming hair and being in the wrong colors, I suppose," Melontra drawled. Falora sighed.
Kyra grinned. Actually, Wushair dressed well. She was an intimidating individual; she just always looked out of place among other Alfarians because she completely ignored social stigmas, including fashion stigmas. Her coat was her own invention, or so she claimed, but it was not always her manner of dress that surprised people. Wushair talked like she was drunk all the time. She had lived alone for many years, by choice, researching the effects of enchanted areas for so long she'd forgotten she was an Alfarian and responded to anything that implied being a magical being, including witch. Apparently she had been known as one for many years when she lived elsewhere. Her social skills were worse than Heero's, not because she lacked in confidence, but because she had spent so much time with creatures that communicated more with emotion and thought and less with words. She was also used to conducting her research in an efficient, non-lenlient manner. Her policy was to sweep in, do whatever she wanted, and leave things in the exact state she had left them. Had her subjects known her policy, it wouldn't have been so bad, but Wushair didn't communicate well, and the result was subjects terrified as she conducted her surveys. She'd been brought to trial for the cause of trauma more often than all the other Masters combined.
Wushair turned suddenly to stare at them and they all flushed in embarrassment, sinking in their chairs. Wushair, sitting far on the other side of the room, had somehow overheard them. Melontra didn't move. Mandred waved. Of course, Wushair was a Master of Effects, but the fact that she had heard them and they knew it was uncanny.
Suddenly, there was a commotion from behind the stage.
"Finally," Mandred said, turning around to sit stolidly at the defendant's table.
"What?" Falora said, looking around. All conversation had ceased.
"Kiayne," Coran whispered. "The Judge. The Trial is finally beginning."
Kiayne was more of a social rule breaker than Wushair, which might have explained why the two became friends. Wushair was a Master, respected for her trade and age, but Kiayne was a Ruler, the equivalent of a Queen of a State, if such a thing existed. Yet whereas Wushair ignored social standards, perhaps without realizing it, Kiayne purposely toyed with them. When Her Honor walked out onto the stage, the room erupted in laughter.
Kiayne was short and blonde--fairly human looking by those standards--but that wasn't why everyone laughed. The Ruler of Calanor wore a gigantic hoop skirt. It was pink, with ruffles and white bows, and there were strips cut out by her knees and ankles. Underneath it, tangerine tights flashed, covered in rolled yellow socks and very large shoes that gave several inches to her height. She was still short. Her shirt was long-sleeved and lime green, with sequins sewed along the collar line and marching down the arms. She also wore gloves, yellow like her socks, with huge pink bows on the wrists. She wore both gold and silver jewelry; her earrings reached her shoulders, and Kyra thought she spotted real diamonds in them. A tiara was pinned to her hair, a pink tiara, set with an emerald that matched her shirt, and her make-up was absolutely all the wrong shades for her skin tones.
"Order in the Court!" Kiayne yelled before she even got to the judge's box. She stood on her tip toes, reached over and banged a stapler on the marble table. The wooden mallet lay untouched by her left hand. Quiet subsided, broken only by occasional coughing and snickers. Kiayne nodded and attempted to climb onto the judges' seat, but it was much to small for a skirt so enormously large. She paused as laughter started up again, turned about, and then took the skirt off, revealing the entire length of her tangerine tights and also a pair of black biker shorts. Glaring at the crowd, she heaved herself up into the judge's seat, clambering over the wood walls like a haystack, and settled herself quite comfortably, leaving the skirt in a heap on the floor. It was then that the audience noticed the stairs on the other side. Kiayne took a deep breath. "Now," she said in pleasant tones. "Who's case am I hearing today?"
Before Mandred could open his mouth, the entire room answered for him. "Mandred!" with a few "Master Mandred" thrown in by some young enthusiasts.
Kiayne sat up. "Ah," she said. "About time you got here. I had a bet that you would be brought in before Quenden, but I lost, so I might have to make you pay."
A few people in the audience chuckled at the empty threat. Mandred looked unperturbed. Immilie shook her head with a smile. Kyra would have ventured that Immilie was in on that bet.
"All right," Kiayne said, and put a pair of horn-rimmed glasses on her face. More chuckles. Alfarians did not have bad eyes. She fingered through a sheaf of papers on her desk, laid them aside, and opened the program. She read for a few seconds and then coughed. "Were you involved in this war, Mandred, knowing by the Prescripts that interference by an Alfarian in Outworlder conflicts is a direct violation as indicated in Article 4, verses 7 through 9, punishable by heavy fines, imprisonment, or penance determined by a member of the Council such as myself?"
"No," Mandred said flatly. "I was not involved in the war."
"Oh, never mind, then," Kiayne said, scanning her notes. More laughter. She flipped through the program.
Kyra glanced at her own program. She wondered how these people would feel knowing they had complete and detailed profiles available to everybody in this courtroom. Who dug up all this stuff?
"Then just what were you doing in this Outworld, Master Mandred?" Kiayne asked.
"Researching space technology and robotics," Mandred replied. "Particularly the gundams, the like of which I had seen before. I wished to get a better look at their construction and fortification."
Kiayne tapped her fingers on the desk. "Just how large are they?" she asked.
"Very large," Mandred said dryly.
"Larger than dragons?" Kiayne demanded.
"They are larger than most the ones we have here, but I can not speak for all species."
There was scattered murmuring, particularly among Alfarians who did little traveling, and among those who knew little of technology due to lack of interest.
Kiayne looked unimpressed. "I see. So you inadvertently participated in the war?"
"I fortified some of the Wing Gundam and supervised its construction," Mandred replied. "Mostly I worked on the cockpit to protect the pilot. It was the first of all of the gundams destroyed, so obviously I didn't do too much."
"Ah," Kiayne said thoughtfully. "Probably not. Explain your relationship with this pilot."
A hush descended over the room. Most had heard bits of the story, and some of it was printed in the program. Mandred spoke slowly and thoughtfully, with an air of wistful remembrance. "He was just a kid," he began, "maybe seven or eight when I first met him, and already haunted with shadows from the war. He was alone, angry, numb from fear and cold from hardship. Dr. J, Wing Gundam's maker, found him in the streets. He saw in him a lost kid with a kind heart to care for a cause and the hopelessness and determination necessary to pilot a gundam."
"Hopelessness?" Kiayne prompted.
"A gundam pilot has to be willing to die in order to master the suit. A pilot that hesitates will not be able to control it. It is like plunging from a cliff believing that God will catch you. To pilot a gundam, a person must be almost suicidal."
"And this child..."
"Heero had no sense of self-worth. He's been constantly discarded since his parents died and he was lost in the streets. He was found by an assassin and trained as an accomplice until that caretaker was killed. There was no recognized affection between them, but perhaps an unspoken fondness. At the assassin's death, Heero finished the last mission and disappeared again on the steets until he was picked up by Dr. J. He was offered the chance to pilot a gundam in defense of the colonies and the offer was accepted. Heero loved the colonies. He was aware of their plight, just not his own."
"And did you interfere in this..." Kiayne flipped through her notes. "Operation Meteor?"
"No, not directly," Mandred replied. "I was there only to observe, but Operation Meteor was a vile plan to threaten destruction of the Earth and then use the gundams to take it over. I was against it, but Dr. J and the other scientists were too, so my interference wasn't necessary. Control of the gundams was given to the pilots with only mission status from the scientists. They wanted the gundams to take down OZ. My interference was not with the war but with Heero himself. His training was hard for one so young, and I did not fully approve of it, but Heero seemed not to mind. I argued with Dr. J that it wasn't right to raise a boy with nothing to believe he is nothing and can do nothing but soldier, but Dr. J wouldn't listen. He assured me that Heero understood the situation and it was none of my business. I took it upon myself to try and nurture Heero as a human being, especially when I traced his past and found that I had known his mother briefly some years ago. For awhile he responded, but Dr. J thought my interference a distraction and stole him away. Heero was commanded to detonate the old compound with me in it. I knew it would happen, survived the blast unharmed and portaled my way out, but I could not find Heero for some years and he believed me quite dead."
There was some shuffling in the backround, but no one spoke.
"Please continue," Kiayne said.
"I found Heero again during the war, but I did not interfere as the gundam pilots became spotlights figures. I hired Kyra and her Companions to track his movements and those of the people he was beginning to form relationships with. I thought by the end that perhaps he had recovered. There was a girl who cared very much for him, and I thought the feeling was returned. There were the other pilots his own age who respected him as a comrade and friend. He learned a few things throughout the war and stopped trying to destroy himself, but after the chaos he began to withdraw, and I began to doubt. So one day, when my work was finished, I came for him. I took him to the colonies to live with me and taught him what I could."
"Did you use any magic on him?" Kiayne asked almost brightly.
"Yes, some. I had already fortified him when he was a child. It was a permanent ward to last him through the war, but I removed it when he was with me. I didn't tell him. I also sought to open his mind a little to speed recovery. It would have taken years for him to trust me otherwise, and longer to believe anything I said. But I put no thoughts in his head that were not his own. I only made him more receptive to his own mind and heart."
"Good," Kiayne said. "Because the other is forbidden, and a serious charge. Please continue."
"It went well. I introduced him to Immilie. There was some confusion with transportation. She came to my house by Portal and I had to escort her out to avoid that detection. She rented a car later, which served for both of us. To take up my time when I was not with Heero I contacted Ranlath. He's always asking me to fortify his newest Relics. Falora carried messages between us."
"All right, stop," Kiayne said. "Master Ranlath," she yelled out across the crowd. "Anything to offer?"
Ranlath was sitting a few rows behind Kiayne with his arms crossed, but he nearly started in his seat, as much as someone like Ranlath started. "I had some things I needed done and Mandred offered to help while the kid was at school. I came out there a few times to look at the colonies. Very impressive, I must say. I warned Mandred that there were some Renegades tailing my activities. He warned Falora and I told Kyra and Coran when they came to see me later. Apparently, Coran and Falora had been in that world before, as they had heard that Teleb had relocated to the area. It is my understanding that he send some civilian assassin to stall and distract them. He succeeded. We didn't know if Teleb remained on that world or not, but before long, he caught on to Falora. I had her take some crystals and a diamond to Mandred to be fortified. He did so and sent her and them back to me. Teleb waylaid her, the jewels were lost during the encounter and picked up by some civilians. Mandred and I consulted and thought it would be wiser to send Falora after them alone. She went, was met unexpectedly by Duo Maxwell, but pulled off the mission anyway. She scared Teleb off, I believe because he thought Mandred, myself or both of us were with her,"
"I was tracking her," Mandred put in. "So he would have been right."
"Let Ranlath finish, Mandred," Kiayne said pertly. Mandred smiled and sat back.
"Anyway," Ranlath continued. He and Mandred were old friends, perhaps the oldest in the room. "Falora succeeded in reclaiming the crystals, but the diamond was shattered. The pieces were worthless." Only Ranlath would consider diamond fragments worthless. "I left the crystals in Mandred's keeping until the whole project could be completed. It took me awhile to hunt up another diamond of adequate size, but once I found one and fomatted it, I send it to Mandred via Coran Domared because I knew Falora was being watched. That was my last dealings with him until the diamond and crystals were returned to me just recently."
"All right," Kiayne said. "Mandred, please continue the story."
"Coran came to my home in the early spring," Mandred said. "He brought the diamond with him. I wanted to know the details of Teleb's last interference, so we talked about that a bit and lost track of time. Heero walked in on our conversation and we went upstairs to finish. Heero may have seen something when I tested the diamond's quality, but nothing that couldn't be passed off as a trick of the light. Heero went out to see his friend, Duo Maxwell, and I finished fortifying the diamond. Ranlath got impatient like he always does and sent Kyra to see what was taking so long. Heero came back when we were talking about whether or not we wanted to use the crystals as bait to lure in Teleb. We knew he was still out there. I didn't want to endanger Heero so I gave the crystals and the diamond to Kyra and Falora for safekeeping. I didn't want them in my house any longer."
"But Teleb endangered Heero anyway?" Kiayne prompted.
"Kyra couldn't get a hold of Ranlath and was stuck on Heero's world for awhile. Teleb somehow found out about Heero and began investigating all of his relations. I sent Immilie to Cinq to guard Relena in case he attacked her, but one day I sent Falora down there with a message. She ran into Teleb on Cinq Castle grounds and he attacked her with a decaying spell."
Murmurs went up among the audience. Kyra wondered what Teleb thought of all of this. Immilie had said he was in the room.
"She found Immilie with Relena Darilan in the Outworlder's office. Immilie managed to get Relena out of the room long enough to sustain Falora in order to get her to me, but it was a close call. Immilie is not much of a healer. Fortunately, she was in time and I restored Falora to full health without setbacks, but Teleb was growing more aggressive and that worried me. I gave Heero an alarm button Ranlath made just in case. It was a lucky thing I did."
"When did Teleb strike next?" Kiayne asked.
"We still couldn't get a hold of Ranlath," Mandred said.
"I was engaged," Ranlath said dryly.
Mandred ignored him, "so Kyra swung by my house to wait for me. She wanted to be portaled back to Elneira and let Ranlath pick his Relics up there, but before I came home, Teleb contacted Heero. He had taken Relena hostage, having discovered their relationship, and would trade her unharmed for the crystals."
The room was silent now.
"Kyra knew she wouldn't be able to locate me in time," Mandred continued, "but she found Falora and contacted Coran. She told Heero to promise Teleb anything he wanted. They were forced to bring Heero along, and Duo Maxwell followed Falora, recognizing her from their last encounter. The gundam pilots were probably the safest people to take on that world, but they weren't equipped to deal with Teleb."
"Kyra," Kiayne said, stopping Mandred with a gesture. Kyra sat up in her chair in surprise. "Would you continue the story? I believe Mandred wasn't there for this part."
Kyra shrugged. "Sure. Teleb had hired some Outworlders to test the gundam pilots and to see if any Alfarians would leap to their rescue, but Heero and Duo managed that on their own. At the meet, they traded the crystals for Relena, but then Falora was discovered and there was a lot of chaos. I was thrown into a wall, Falora was in convulsions, Coran was watching from the back. Then Relena seized the crystals from Teleb." More surprised murmurs. "Coran came to her rescue, giving Falora time to recover with a regeneration spell, but by the time they were out of options, Teleb came back. He tortured Relena until he had the crystals and left her to die. Then he went to finish off Falora. That's when Mandred showed up."
"All right," Kiayne said. "Mandred?"
"Falora had recovered enough to sustain Relena from death, but it took out all her strength," Mandred said. "I went after Teleb. He knew he couldn't beat me, but he tried to distract me long enough to escape. I singed him a little bit by the end, and was forced to stop and fix things as we went along to protect the humans inside, but eventually I managed to wear Teleb down. When Soronith arrived, unexpectedly, I sent the Renegade back to Elneira with him and used the interlude to relieve Falora. When I went back inside, Heero attacked me. He was upset that I had lied to him, that the girl he cared for was dying, so I comforted him and healed her. I would have done it anyway, even had he not begged me, but I knew that healing is a direct interference, and Immilie held me accountable."
There was a long moment of silence. Kiayne tapped the marble. "This girl you saved did a brave thing and paid for it. You saved her because she didn't deserve to die and because you love the kid you adopted and he loves her."
"Yes," Mandred agreed, though it hadn't been a question.
There was another moment of silence.
"I don't see how I can incarcerate you for that," Kiayne said at last. There was scattered cheering. Kiayne raised a hand to stall it. "I'm not done. I'm not going to declare you a criminal, Mandred, but you pleaded guilty, and even though Relena suffered due to Renegade evils, you still claim some responsibility for breaking Outworlder rules and healing her. Can you tell me why this is a rule, Mandred? Tell me why it is forbidden even to heal in Outworlds."
"Because it is not our place," Mandred said. "Because to have so much power is both a blessing and a curse. We are capable of healing until we die, and each of us at some time has wanted to, but all the hurt in all the worlds can not be cured, even by us, and should we take that task upon ourselves we would go mad with trying." He shook his head. "Besides which, there is a reason for pain in the world, some kinds of pain, and as long as the world in its present format exists, pain will abide in it. Who can say what would happen if miracles became common place, if everyone expected always to be saved? Would they not be very vain indeed, and us haggard at trying to appease them for all time? It is an impossible task, and I believe that though our powers are a gift, they are not to be used indiscriminately, and thus we should stick to our own matters, and isn't that so much easier if there are rules? Besides which, we are not to be known in Outworlds. People are afraid and scornful of what they do not understand, even if it is to their benefit."
"Well spoken," Kiayne said at long last, nodding. "I leave it to the jury. Cheer for aquitted, boo for punishment."
Cheers reverberated around the room, overwhelming any boos. Mandred got a second standing ovation.
"Seems the people like you," Kiayne said. "But I'm not done. You still broke a rule, so you have a penance. Because there was Renegade involvement, I might have let you off if you were inexperienced or the Council was contacted first, but this is not the case. So here is your penance: I want you to go back to this Heero of yours and make sure he sees that girl." There was more cheering and scattered laughter. Mandred looked incredulous. Kiayne looked smug. "We all know how long it's taken you and he doesn't have that kind of time." More laughter. "More seriously," Kiayne continued, "I want you to contemplate what you just told me for one week, using not a breath of magic to do anything, and then spend a second week trying to heal all the hurts in the world you were living on. You won't be able to do it and it will break your heart, but it will do some good. People need miracles once in awhile. Just don't let anyone know you, and don't impersonate yourself as a god or angel."
Silence.
Mandred nodded, though. "Interesting. I see why you are a respected Ruler."
"I may look like an idiot," Kiayne said, leaning forward, "but I know my business. My father ruled before me. I learned everything I know from him." Kiayne looked out over the crowd. "Any objections to my ruling?"
Raised hands were promptly ignored.
"I just lost a small fortune!" someone shouted, but this one small voice was overwhelmed in a positive response of cheers and stamping of feet.
Kiayne waved. "You're free to go, Mandred," she said with a smile. "Good luck."
Everyone got up and voices filled the room once more. The trial had taken a total of twenty minutes.
"That's an interesting sentence," Melontra said soberly. "I could not imagine ever attempting it on Krathia."
"Your world is a mess," Mandred said. "It is a hard sentence, and perhaps it will hurt me deeply, but as Kiayne said, it will do some good, and even I will learn from it. There is a lot of hurt from that war, and I can be an aid to soothe it."
"I'm proud of you," Immilie said to him softly, leaning down to caress his face. "And I know this will be more painful than you let on. I will come with you if you let me."
He turned to her with gratitude. "I would like for you to be there, love, but you can't help me in this task."
"I will hold you up," she said, "when it feels that you might break."
He took her hand, kissed it and nodded. She climbed over the rail to stand close beside him.
"Are you going to tell Heero about your sentence, Mandred?" Kyra asked.
"No, I don't think so. He probably wouldn't understand. I have a week to relax and visit with him before I begin my task. Perhaps when it is over I can tell him, but I can't have him worrying about me before."
Immilie smiled up at him and he stroked her hair as she leaned against him. "I always worry," she murmured under his chin. "But I will be there with you."
He smiled at her. "When I am through," Mandred said. "I may have to spend some time with Quenden."
"Will it be that bad?" Coran interjected.
"I suspect so," Mandred said. "There will be so much I can't fix, and healing is a Cleric's business. They have a license for this thing I must do. Besides, Quenden is a friend. He will understand. I should be all right in the long run, but it will be a tough week. Still, this penance is about what I expected."
"Well, I'm tired," Falora said. "And suddenly glad I can't heal a lick."
Kyra choked out a laugh. She had been feeling bitter-sweet, almost melancholy. "And I'm glad I'm human and incapable of any fancy magic what-so-ever. Sort of. I can still see the benefits."
"One day there will be a new world," Mandred said softly, "When you too will be immortal, but already you are capable of great things."
"And I do them all the time," Kyra agreed. "But I won't be taking tasks from you for at least two weeks. I might as well bug Ranlath or take a vacation."
"Actually," a new voice said, and Kyra turned to see Wushair standing beside them. She just...appeared there. "I have something you could do for me. Are you familiar with the flesh eating flowers of Aberaji?"
What? Kyra blinked. "No," she said flatly, almost curtly. "And I'm not sure I want to be."
"I'll take on the flesh eating flowers," Coran said. Kyra glared at him. No...! a voice in her head whined. She wanted to spend some time with him. "Oh, come on, baby," Coran said in that half-joking way of his. "It will be fun."
Kyra sighed. Well, alone with Coran on Aberaji was as good as anywhere else she supposed. Still, doing things for Wushair was always more troubled than it was worth. "Well, Mandred," she said. "I guess this is goodbye for now. You'll be a free man in two weeks."
Mandred laughed at her. "I will look you up if I need anything."
Kyra shrugged. "Wouldn't mind in the least. Those gundam
pilots were good sports." She smiled at Coran and then turned to
Wushair. "What do you want us to do?"
The End.
That's the end of the weirdest trial "fic" ever. Any questions, comments, complaints, compliments (I really like compliments). Please send all your correspondence to zapenstap@yahoo.com and remember that every idea in this fic is copyrighted by ME (minus the GW stuff) and you will be imprisoned and tortured if you steal them. Mwa ha ha. Oh, there's also sort of an afterward with Heero and Relena and Heero's new family, and since this is the sort of fic that could go on forever if I felt like extending it, possibilites are always open. But the effort would require reviews... ^_~