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Chapter 8 - The Trial of Bartholomew Stoutmantle

14th Day of Gaia

117 I.E.

"Bartholomew Stoutmantle, you are accused of six counts of assault with intent to kill, and one count of attempted murder. How do you plead?"

The ursar, wearing a scratchy, burlap uniform, was kneeling on the ground with his arms and legs shackled together. Chains extended from his shackles to a pole behind him, preventing him from moving anywhere. He stared deeply into the floor, examining the pattern of the floor tiles. To his right was a panel of jurors, each of them wearing masks to conceal their faces. Even then, he could feel the penetrating, piercing gaze of their eyes through the slits on the front.

He felt like a cub again. He was trapped under the thumb of something far more powerful than himself. He felt defeated. The eyes of Remi and Neriti could be felt burning a hole into the back of his head. Bart wanted to break down and cry.

No! a voice in his head rang out. That weakling is no more. Don't think like that, or you really will be beaten!

"Not guilty," he said loudly, his voice carrying itself through the courtroom.

The judge adjusted her leather mask. No one was permitted to see the faces of the people trying them. Olaraa sought to protect its public servants.

"You do realize that the evidence against you suggests otherwise," the judge said.

"I'm well aware of that," Bart said, and began thinking of a way to clarify his stance. He was forced to think on his feet and use his words to get out of this situation. They were both skills that the ursar had yet to develop. He looked up and met the intense blue eyes of the judge. "My actions were in self-defense. I acted only after they threatened me!"

"I'm afraid self-defense only works in situations in which you've been provoked into defending your life, Your Honor."

Bart swung his head to glare at the prosecutor. The dwarf was, as far as Bart was concerned, merely a well-dressed asshole. No amount of fine clothes could cover up the stench of a rat. He'd come scurrying out of the woodwork to snatch up the chance to oppose the ursar, likely because there'd be plenty of money involved.

"Witnesses have gone on record to state that after Bartholomew assaulted several of his classmates, he attacked his foster brother without provocation and used his claws to remove the lad's eye."

"That's a lie!" Bart spat, tugging at the chains that held him. "Garen and his friends attacked me outside the shop first!" He glared at the prosecutor. If only he could get one paw on the dwarf's neck...

"Bartholomew, need I remind you of the position you're in," the judge said, "If I hear one more outburst like that, I will be forced to hold you in contempt of court for disruption of these proceedings. Do you wish to spend another month in that cell of yours?"

Bart shuddered when he thought of the room. It was cold, dank, and dark. Rat feces lined the base of parts of the wall, and some days he awoke to find one the bastards crawling on him. The bedding was non-existent and his covers were tattered and soaked with the refuse his his predecessors.

"No, Your Honor."

"Good. You'll have your chance to speak. If the prosecution would continue."

The dwarf told the story of an unruly and short-tempered beast that made life for those around him a living hell. He spoke of how the Stoutmantle family had taken the ursar cub in and raised him as one of their own, giving him his own room, freedoms, and education.

"Why, the lad even had complete control over the federally issued stipend that the Stoutmantle's received. Certainly an unprecedented freedom that he wouldn't have received anywhere else."

"Is this true?" the judge said, looking at Bart.

"Well, yes," Bart admitted begrudgingly. "I think they stole most of it for themselves though. Thirty silver pieces is hardly enough."

The prosecutor pulled out a sheaf of papers. "The bureau in charge of the child care system offered up this information regarding the defendant." The dwarf saddled forward to hand the papers to the judge, and Bart swore he saw a gleam in his eyes as he passed him. If only he weren't chained to the post, he thought.

The judge looked them over as the prosecutor continued. "Note the stipend amount doled out every month, and the fact that it increased over time. The defendant received well over the amount he claims to receive, and he was, in fact, given complete control over his own money."

The judge nodded. "Continue, prosecutor."

The dwarf returned to where he'd left off before the interruption. He told of how Bart had spat on their kindness and began abusing his freedoms. He frequented whore houses and took copious amounts of narcotics. He lashed out and became increasingly violent until the incident only a month ago.

"Remi and Neriti Stoutmantle cared for their adoptive son," the lawyer said. "They even planned to allow him to apprentice under Remi to learn the family trade."

Bart's arms shook with fury. His teeth were bared as his lips were pulled back into a snarl. His ears were flattened against his head and the fur on the back of his neck bristled. It was taking all of his concentration to keep from screaming at the deceitful dwarf, but the ever-watchful eye of the judge kept him in place.

"Truly, I haven't seen such a disappointing case in all my life. Likely, something in the lad's ancestry caused him to change and to rebel."

"Conjecture has no place in this courtroom, and that remark will be stricken from the record."

The prosecutor smirked and lightly bowed as he stepped back.

"Bartholomew, do you have anything to say in your defense?" she asked.

"Plenty," he replied. "Everything he said was a lie. Remi has beaten me countless times since I was a cub, and I've gone hungry more times than I care to count. I worked in his shop, sure, but as a cleaner and I was never paid. I was neglected, Your Honour."

"Do you have any evidence to support these claims?"

Bart's heart stopped. "E-evidence?" he stammered.

"Did you file any reports with the authorities? Were there any witnesses? Did any healers tend to the wounds you claim to have had?"

"N-no..." Bart trailed off. "But I still have bruises on my skin and scars from where I'd been lashed by Remi's belt."

The prosecutor called out. "The defendant has been in many scraps this past while. My clients state that those injuries he claims to have were sustained during such conflicts."

Bart could feel the noose tightening around his neck. What was he to do? Either he was going to be thrown in a cell to rot, or he was going to be executed. He wasn't sure what he feared more.

"Unfortunately, as the defense has no evidence to support his claims, they must be disregarded." The judge banged her gavel. "Court is adjourned for a brief recess while I deliberate on the matter."

Everyone in the room stood up as the judge left the room. The small crowd that had gathered began to mutter about the case, and the verdict that the judge would render.

Bart slumped down to his knees. The rage he felt was wholly trumped by how powerless he was. There was no way he could predict what was going to happen to him. His fur was glossy with a thick sheen of sweat. Tears lined his eyes for the first time in months.

I haven't even had a chance to live my life, and this is how it ends!? Bart's chains rattled as his body was wracked by sobs. They were not tears of remorse or regret for what he had done, though. Rather, they were being shed for the justice that had been so swiftly stolen from him.

The world outside his broken little room was far more painful than Remi's fists could ever be.

Bart's sensitive hearing managed to pick up on a pair of whispering voices in the distance. No one else in the room would be able to hear them, but he could. Flexing the little muscles in his ears, Bart tilted one round ear in the sound's direction. He realized that the words were meant for him to hear.

"We'll finally be rid of that filthy bear," Remi whispered. "I've been waiting for this day for years. The stipend wasn't worth the trouble. I don't know why we agreed to take him in."

"I agree. No more of him eating us out of house and home," Neriti said.

"You're going to rot in that cell for years, you mangy fucker. Rot until you die or become some inmate's bitch." The quiet chuckle that followed told Bart that Remi knew he was listening.

Bart's hackles began to rise. The quiet snarl that began in the depths of his chest grew to an audible growl that silenced the crowd's murmurs.

Fuck the judge and her court! Those bastards won't get away with this! I swear it!

After half an hour, the judge returned and took her seat once again. The entire courtroom fell silent, and Bart could hear his own heart beat. His mind ran with a million possibilities. What would her decision be? The only thing that he knew for certain was that he would face either imprisonment or death. There was no third option. The only variable was the severity of the punishment.

"Bartholomew, after careful deliberation, I've chosen to sentence you to eighty years in solitary confinement."

The ursar dropped to his knees. He was too shocked to believe the sentence, much less respond. Eighty years was a long time, even compared to his race's average lifespan. But that didn't help to make it any less fathomable. Without anyone to interact with, much less do, he would go insane, he was sure of it.

He could hear the cheers of victory coming from the bench that the Stoutmantles sat on. Though it would have normally made him furious, the young ursar was too stunned to do anything else.

"That would be my normal verdict in a case like this." Slowly, the courtroom was hushed and she spoke again once order had returned. "With the aftermath of the war to the south leaving our military lacking in manpower, I feel that with some tempering, young Bartholomew's rage could be channeled against our foes. The frontier needs to be manned at all times, to keep the gnolls at bay. As such, I'm sentencing Bartholomew Stoutmantle to a lifetime of military service, until such a time his superiors deem him fit for society or until he can no longer fight."

Bart looked up as a spark of hope was ignited. It was further kindled by Remi's furious outburst and the sputtering objection of the prosecuting dwarf.

"My verdict has been rendered, it's done! Bailiff, please escort them out."

The guard rounded them up, and all the while, Remi shouted obscenities at Bart. THe ursar could only laugh at the entire scene.

"In the end, I won, you bastard!" Bart shouted back at him, and laughed.

"Enough of that nonsense, Bartholomew. I'm holding you in contempt for that and your earlier remarks." The judge pointed at him. "You're going to be put into isolation for two months before we ship you off to the training grounds at Hell's Crucible. Court is adjourned!"

* * * * *

And so Bart was returned to his cell. There were no other inmates to bother him, and the only people he saw were the guards who brought him his meals. The room barely had any light, and it was cold, even beneath his fat and fur. The only connection to the outside was a small slit of a window that looked out at the brick wall of an adjoining building.

There was nothing to do, so Bart slept most of the time. When he wasn't sleeping, he was exercising however he could so he could bulk up his arms and legs. He knew he'd need all the strength he could get. He was merely awaiting his transfer to the barracks at Hell's Crucible. At least he was free from the Stoutmantles.

"Psst, are you in there?" said a voice at the window.

Bart sat up from his mattress, and his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. He looked at the window, and could see a ring of silver hair around a bald head that looked familiar.

"Naf?" Bart said quietly. He checked the door for a guard, but no one was there.

"Aye, it's me, lad. I got you a little going away present." A pouch appeared and flew into the room. Bart scooped it up and saw two vials of green atop a small, powdery bed of Heaven's Kiss.

"Thanks Naf, but why?" He tucked the pouch into the palm of his hand to hide it incase someone came by to check on him.

"I'm just delivering one last hit for you to remember me by. I'm not going to be seeing you anymore."

"Why?" Bart said, sounding a bit sad. Though Naf was just a dealer, he was the closest thing to a friend he had.

"I can't be seen around you anymore. Someone like me around a convict? I'd be caught, and I can't have that happening."

"Oh."

"So with this, our business is at an end. Farewell, lad." The scuff of boots could be heard as the dwarf walked away.

Bart ran to the window and stuck part of his snout outside. "Naf, wait!" but the dwarf never responded.

He looked at the pouch in his hands. At least for part of his sentence, he thought, he'd be able to enjoy a simple pleasure.

Uncorking one of the vials, he stook a few drops, then stashed everything under his mattress as the drug took over.