Salander slept fitfully. Being carried by an orc was never pleasant. His scales didn`t help against the bludgeoning of the journey or the strain on his joints, worn as he was like a cloak by his bound hands. Bruises on his mid-section and arms kept antagonizing his rest, hurting too little to wake him, but enough to influence his dreams.

　　He dreamt of Oreson and Shrub, their fate outside of the dream forgotten. Yet there it was, hanging over them like a dark descending cloud. To this they were oblivious, going about their daily activities among the rest of Very Small Numbers. Salander, being unable to recall what exactly was putting him off his ease about such a typical day, held a cautious pessimism as he regarded the kobolds he knew so well doing nothing in particular.

　　He wondered on this feeling briefly until he heard Oreson speak.

　　"I`m hungry," the shade said. There was an odd inflection in the voice that Salander couldn`t place. He noticed the village was now focused on him. Every pair of eyes was turned up from small jobs and conversation, and Shrub was moving to stand by Oreson.

　　"I shouldn`t have turned down your offer earlier," Shrub said. The doom was steadily descending, forming a twilight which began sapping the dream of color.

　　Salander`s arms were lead and his feet were jelly. There was something about Shrub`s voice that Salander couldn`t place, the same as Oreson`s.

　　You can`t blame me, Salander retorted to the pressing crowd. The kobolds blended together in the haze, all save Shrub and Oreson. Hues of brown, red, and orange in the formless mob turned to grays. It wasn`t my fault.

　　Casting about for a scapegoat, one form rose above the rest. An old kobold matron, her scales thin and skin slightly sagging. His constant foe in village politics.

　　Auntie.

　　The unspecified doom rapidly approaching midnight, the old kobold`s face sparked memories for Salander. This mirk was her fault.

　　She invited that orc to live among us, Salander slowly realized. It`s all her fault. His words were full of accusation, though he had yet to recall what he was accusing Auntie of.

　　"Did you stash something away?" said Oreson.

　　"Hey! You`ve got a snack under your hat!" said Shrub.

　　The darkness came upon everything at once. Yet Salander was still there, puzzling over the voice. The same voice that came from both Oreson and Shrub.

　　And as he ascended to wakefulness from the dream, his memories returned. The orcs and goblins. Being taken prisoner. Being imprisoned with-&

　　"Chicken, cut it out!" he groaned as a clatter destroyed the remnants of his sleep. It was indeed Chicken, wrestling with the odd, moist, bearded creature with which they were imprisoned.

　　"But he started it!" came the reply.

　　"I don`t care who started it," Salander growled, "I`ll finish it."

　　Chicken relented. "Ok, you can have it!"

　　Amerigo snatched the pipe back from Chicken, and Salander could see within it some kind of bug which the gnome creature handled like one his young. Gently balancing it on his head, he put his cap back on. He gave Chicken a scornful look.

　　"That thing is your friend?"

　　Amerigo nodded haughtily.

　　"I thought you were just saving it till later."

　　Salander laid back down, only for Chicken to approach him and ask, "Now that you`re awake, why don`t we talk about how we`re going to bust out of here?"

　　Without opening his eyes, he replied, "We`re not. I`m going to rest some more, and you are going to be quiet."This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

　　"But you`ve been sleeping this whole time. We`ve been in and out of this cell every day, and I`ve been thinking-"

　　Salander looked at him and cut him off. "In and out? Where did you go?"

　　"They`ve got this open area surrounded by walls and they make us dig in the dirt with bent weapons. Now, this might be difficult but I think we can-"

　　"When are they going to come get you again?"

　　"I knew he`d have a plan," Chicken said, grinning and elbowing Amerigo. "Lemme guess. We`re going to get word to Penelope? Cause that`s what I`d do, and judging by what the guards have been saying-"

　　"No," Salander said, closing his eyes again, "I was going to count the time until I`d get to be alone. Lately I`ve been too unconscious to appreciate your absence."

　　The mention of the orc girl had been gut-wrenching for him, and he hoped he hadn`t made the pain too obvious in his voice.

　　"Oh, come on, Salander," Chicken groaned. "Won`t you give me a little hint about how you`re going to get out of here?"

　　The whine cut through him, annoying and chiding. It irritated him, and he sat up, angry.

　　"I`m not going to tell you the plan," he snapped. He stopped himself from saying more when he saw Chicken recoil. The gnome-thing`s eyes were wide, too, having not anticipated any such furious response.

　　Salander shoved his palms over his eyes and groaned like one fatigued before sagging, seated on his bed.

　　"I`m not trying to escape," he said dourly, looking at a corner to avoid either of their eyes.

　　"I`ve got some ideas," Chicken said, his voice both pleading and placating.

　　"No," Salander returned, "I don`t-& I`m not-& I`m not in charge anymore, Chicken."

　　"Whaddya mean? Of course-"

　　"I`ve lost that privilege. Do you see? I don`t want to go back. I don`t want to be responsible."

　　Chicken, for once it seemed to Salander, paused to think about this. His eyebrows furrowed and twitched with the effort.

　　"So you`re not trying to get us home?"

　　Salander let the question sit there, untouched, as he laid back down. He gave Chicken a glance and then turned towards the wall.

　　"What about the others?" Chicken asked Salander`s back, "We don`t know what the orcs are doing to them."

　　He got no response, and hours later Chicken and Amerigo were retrieved for their tutorial.

　　****

　　"I would like to hear it all, please," Lord Kairon said with interest. As Penelope started, he cut her off.

　　"Not here. This deserves a hearing in an official capacity. I must say, I`ve had some ideas for a form of judiciary," he added musingly, "and this would be the perfect time to try them out."

　　Justafar could not break his gaze from the thing he beheld, the thing which took his daughter from him and which now returned, shameful, from exile. He remembered the day he had banished it. He hadn`t been definite enough in making the decision, but how does an orc kill in cowardice? It had refused to stand before him in armed combat, so what were the alternatives? How do you kill something such that it does not die honorably while remaining honorable yourself?

　　He had had other options. It could have been staked to the ground to wither and starve. It could have been caged and sold as the lesser being it most certainly was. In the end, he had chosen banishment. It looked like his daughter, so he had pointless hope that she was still there. He had to hope that she&it could die with what little honor it could. Facing the wilderness fairly was the only way.

　　"Chief Justafar, are you listening?" Kairon pulled him out of his memories. He couldn`t manage an honest reply, and he had no creativity for lying at that moment.

　　"I was saying," Lord Kairon repeated with no trace of annoyance, "that in circumstances such as these, there are plaintiffs and there are defendants. You, and at the same time, Penelope here, can each assemble a team. Facts will be presented to a neutral authority and through debate we may discern the truth."

　　Penelope liked this plan, and not merely because she doubted her combat prowess. Kairon was speaking her language. She often thought matters of state could be arranged in ways that didn`t revolve around the sword. It seemed so inefficient to fight to the death over disputes of property. So often she noticed how, when doing her own investigation after the losing party had been decapitated, that the facts had supported their claim. That was what had led her to believe that the strong were not always divinely right, as the tribe had always seemed to believe.

　　Justafar`s mind was whirring already, having caught up with the conversation. It was now trying to make sense of things. "Plaintiff"? Why, that sounded like "complainer". He knew what to do with complainers. He dealt with them regularly when he was chief. "Defendant" was easier. He knew the best defense was an overwhelming and unexpected offense. Looking at Kairon he added mentally, in most cases. Kairon had mentioned assembling a team, so he started taking stock of his best warriors.

　　"I can see I have given you both plenty to think about," Kairon said ponderously. "You will both have until this time tomorrow to assemble your legal team." He turned to Penelope, saying, "As you are the accused, I must inform you that if you cannot find appropriate legal representatives, then one will be appointed to you." She nodded resolutely.

　　He turned to Justafar. "As this wi"l be the first judiciary hearing since the founding of Hurraggh, I would like to establish a convention before we begin. The accused will be innocent until proven guilty." Getting only an intense look, masking incomprehension, he continued, "This means that your job will be to establish the guilt of the accused." At this, Justafar nodded. Weakness was guilt. Everyone knew that.

　　"Wonderful. Our first judiciary hearing," Kairon said almost giddily. "I`ll need to gather a jury and establish a record system. Won`t this be exciting?"