Chapter 43

  Kangaroo Court!

  “We gathered here today, on the fifth equinox of the third plate, for the fifth and final court of the year,” the young lord bellowed out, his friendly demeanour evaporated in light of his new role. “I, Marquess Von Fotzen, do hereby call this meeting open!”

  With those words, Elijah felt the force binding him to his pew disappear. Immediately, a number of robbed and wigged nobleroo jumped up, shouting and jeering, all trying to vie for the speaker (Lord Von Fotzen)’s attention.

  Rivals were brought to light as the once civil kangarookin became more bestial. They began to shout and argue, screaming over one another as they desperately clambered for the marquess’s eye. Some roos jumped on the heads of their neighbours, trying to get up high and be more prominent.

  A tail slapped Elijah in the mouth, and he felt claws digging into his shoulder. He didn’t know what was up, and he had remained seated. Now he was stuck beneath a writhing mass of manic roo. Thankfully, before any serious harm could be done, Von Fotzen made his choice.

  After surveying the crowd, the marquess selected the person who he thought should be heard by pointing at them with a sceptre, a massive hunk of gold, bedazzled with diamonds, on the end of a stick of the same metal. The momentum of the object caused the young lord’s thick, curly white wig to bounce with motion.

  Before Elijah knew what was happening, the gavel was being slammed a second time and was again accompanied by the screamed command, “Order, order!”

  A magical effect wafted over the room, forcing everyone back into their seats. Some were slammed down onto their arses; others were dragged halfway across the chamber and plonked back into their seats.

  As if they hadn’t just turned into a pack of rabid animals, the nobles sat neatly in their seats, waiting patiently for the only one left standing – the one Von Fotzen had indicated – to speak.

  They were a portly roo, shorter than average and with a male disposition. At some point, he had taken off the black robe that everyone else was wearing, showing off his resplendent, heavily ornamented burgundy tunic, patterned with golden ivy.

  At the marquess’ direction, the older roo stepped meekly into the centre of the room.

  From a bird’s eye view, it probably looks like he’s being swallowed by the blackness of space, surrounded by wiggy stars, thought Elijah, his mind slightly lost. He then realised that was probably the point.

  If you wanted to say something, you had to do so in the maw of the beast of public opinion, with the teeth staring down at you, all serious and sombre, from their raised seating.

  The noble took the equally audacious floppy hat off his head, grasped it in his clenched hands, then bowed first to the chairman Von Fotzen, then to the court as a whole.

  “For what reason do you speak before court?” the marquess asked, with the relevance of tradition.

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  “I’m here today to ask that my peers see reason,” the older man said.

  Immediately, their illusion of civility was shattered.

  “Is he saying we’re stupid!” one enraged roo shouted, struggling against the magic that held her to her seat, to no avail.

  “Trust a Schlitzohr to insult his peers,” another roo screamed, jumping onto the bandwagon.

  “Trust a Scheisser to jump to conclusions,” someone retired.

  In seconds, the room had split in two. One half supporting whatever this noble intended to but hadn’t yet brought up, and the other adamantly opposed.

  “Order, order, ORDER!”

  The words came a third time, accompanied by an even louder smacking of the gavel. This time, not only were the gentry forced back into their seats, but a silencing spell was placed upon them. No matter how hard they tried, not a sound could be heard.

  “Earl Wiesel Schlitzohr, you may continue,” the marquees said calmly, gesturing to the roo in the centre of the room.

  “Thank you,” the lord said, relaxing slightly.

  Elijah couldn’t be sure, but he suspected this man had chosen his words carefully to elicit such an action, or the first one to call out was a plant. Either way, it felt like the scienceing spell was what the lord wanted, as the old lord straightened and seemed to gain confidence remarkably quickly as he began to talk.

  “The Scheissers have been logging on Schlitzohr land,” the lord announced, no sign of the meek persona from a moment before. “In blatant disregard for land boundaries drawn up and assigned to us directly by the king.”

  Even without sound, Elijah watched a series of shocked gasps spread through the gathered peers.

  “Now, I know what you’re thinking,” the lord presumed, “We should take this directly to his majesty and bypass the courts.”

  Nods followed his words.

  “And yes, we’d have every right to. But we, the noble Schlitzohrs, don't wish to bother his majesty with such a trivial matter. We don’t want to drag the Scheisser name through the mud,” the older roo said, doing exactly that, “We, as gentry, should be able to settle this matter without involving the crown, or are we not capable of governing ourselves?”

  The last words struck a chord in the audience, and many of them tried in vain to scramble to their feet and clap their agreement. Evidently using the idea of a noble faction in his argument was a popular move.

  Marquess Von Fotzen shook his gavel, and the silence was lifted. He called for order once more, and the shouting ceased, eventually. Then, he pointed to someone in the crowd, a much younger-looking roo, and their robs came flying off. The green suit they wore made them stand out.

  “Earl Scheisser,” what say you in your defence?” Von Fotzen asked as the audience turned towards the singled-out lord.

  Unlike Earl Schlitzohr, Earl Scheisser’s nervousness didn’t appear to be a facade. He shook and gulped as he summoned some documents from his Inventory. The noble held them up so that everyone could see.

  “I have… in… I have in my hand,” the younger lord stammered, “an a a a a agreement, signed by both my and m m m my grandfather and Earl Schlitzohr’s grandfather,” he began, but already the stuttering lord was losing the crowd; some began to grumble and others moan.

  “In in in exchange for, for safe passage through the the the theses mountains here,” he said, pointing to a map in his stack of papers, “We c c c can cut the the the trees in this area.”

  It was no good; already his peers had turned against him. One man shouted, “Boo!” and a lady screamed, “Who is this sniffling wimp?” to the cheers of the others.

  “I vote for the one who can actually speak,” one kangarookin called out, which led to the entire court chanting “El-o-quence, el-o-quence, el-o-quence!”

  The stammering lord tried to fight back:

  “B b b b but I h h h have evidence,” he cried but was immediately shot down.

  Several nobleroo laughed, and one shouted back, “Evidence? This is the Kangaroo Court. When have we ever needed evidence?”

  The first case was wrapped up quickly after that. Everyone ignored the Earl Scheisser’s cries as he swung by his toes from the chandelier; his punishment for losing the case. They just went back to clamouring and shouting for attention, desperate to be the next ones to say their piece.

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