The Trial of Trillian Triffle, Part 1

The following excerpt comes from a paper local to a town in the Fae Wild, materially parallel to Serin. The Twilight Times One year to the day marks the conclusion of the Trial of the Century. All know the story but few the man. In memorandum of the shocking events, Times correspondent Skip Callahan spent all year campusing the Wild collecting the tales from those who knew him best and those directly involved with the proceedings. All so that the Times could present this comprehensive and unedited two part oral history. All names have been omitted by request of the interviewees. We hope you enjoy. Part One - Early Life Interview with <kid>, Childhood Friend of Mr. Triffle Skip: Thank you for agreeing to speak with me on this most unsettling topic. Tell me, how did you know Trillian Triffle? <Kid>: We were in the same pocket growing up. Running about the woods. Making things, breaking things. Wrestling. Kid stuff. Skip: Did anything stand out about young Trillian? Anything seem off? Were there any signs of what was to come? <Kid>: No, no, nothing like that. Ask anybody. He was a good time. Witty. Funny. He was everybody's best friend. If anything stood out it was that other than wrestling he was incredibly capable. Why he was basically the only one of us that could get a laugh out of old man Maligan after a while. Come to think of it, that's kind of how he got excluded from the pocket in the end. Skip: Old man Maligan? <Kid>: Eah, old man Maligan. There's a name I haven't thought of in a long time. He was the local recluse. Crotchety old sprite who lived back into the woods a spell. Or maybe a brownie? He was so old it was hard to tell. Anyway, you know how it is when you are young. You always seek out the village weirdo. He used to give us tasks to do. Pranks and skills to practice. Just enough to give us ideas and get us up to no good. We'd run off and eventually come back and tell him what we did or show off our juggling or whatever it was. If you did a good job he'd cackle like a madman. But the longer this went on the harder it became to make him laugh. Pretty much just Trill could do it. And we all got bored and stopped going because who wants to show off for an old crank whom there is just no pleasing? But Trill didn't stop going. And after a while we just kind of stopped seeing him too. Skip: You said pretty much just Mr. Triffle could do it. Who else could? <Kid>: <redacted>. We didn't really know him. He wasn't in our pocket. But he was always showing up at Maligan's too. Interview with <redacted>, Associate of Mr. Triffle. Skip: You're a hard man to find Mr. <redacted>. <Friend>: Only because I doubt I'll enjoy the questions you've got for me. Skip: Perhaps not. I've been told you were a close friend and confidant of one Trillian Triffle in his teenage years. Is this true? <Friend>: Yeah, I figured that's what this was about. Yes, I knew Trillian. I wouldn't say we were friends though. Rivals is more like it. Skip: So you knew Old Man Maligan as well? <Friend>: Yeah, I knew 'im. Miserable old codger. It ain't right what he did to Trill. Ain't right at all. Skip: Did? What did he do? <Friend>: He abandoned him! Set 'im up then cut 'im loose. Look, I'm not saying Trill didn't have it comin'. But Maligan put 'im in the spot then didn't even have the decency to show up to 'is trial. Skip: How did he put him in the spot? And how were you two rivals? <Friend>: Mal wasn't just some crazy old sprite. I mean, sure, he was at least half-crazy. Maybe more. But he was our mentor. Those other kids didn't see it but those weren't games. He was training us. And after they all fell away it really ramped up. It was just Mal and the two of us. He'd set the task and we'd both have at. Each pushing to better the other in turn. Anyway, it went on for years. And eventually he set us an impossible task. Some vague nonsense about a prank so grand in scope and scale that it teaches the final lesson. And that's it! No hints or clues about this lesson. Just said we had to learn it. So, we both set about our own takes at it but there was no end. We each kept doing more and more and the miserable bloke would just sit there and listen when we reported back. Gave us nothing! Anyway, eventually I had the good sense to stop. Trillian apparently did not. And Mal... Mal just left him twistin' in that trial. Didn't even show to corroborate a damn thing. Skip: ...So you were an apprentice necromancer? <Friend>: Gah! Of course not! Shoulda known better than talking to the likes of you! Git. Git outta my house! Skip: Do you believe Trillian Triffle was guilty of the crimes he was convicted of? <Friend>: I don't know and I don't care. He done what he done. Now git! Editor's Note - Old man Maligan could not be located to contribute to this history. Anybody with knowledge of his whereabouts please contact the Times as soon as pixily possible. Payment negotiable.

The Trial of Trillian Triffle, Part 2

The following excerpt comes from a paper local to a town in the Fae Wild, materially parallel to Serin. The Twilight Times The Times proudly presents the conclusion to the oral history of the Trial of the Century. All know the story but few the man. In memorandum of the shocking events, Times correspondent Skip Callahan spent all year campusing the Wild collecting the tales from those who knew him best and those directly involved with the proceedings. All names have been omitted by request of the interviewees. We hope you enjoy. Part 2 - The Trial Interview with Wutrec Bleigirn, esquire, Lead Prosecutor in the Trial of Trillian Triffle Skip: Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I imagine your time is quite in demand after being lead prosecutor in the Trial of the Century. Wutrec: Century-smentury. I hate that title. Sure, it was the talk of the town but as a lawyer it was most unsatisfying. I barely did anything! It was an open and shut case. The man clearly had no business defending himself. Didn't know anything about court. Didn't do damn thing til it was all over but the crying. But yes, it has been great for my career. Skip: So you are critical of his legal defense strategy? Wutrec: What strategy? He didn't say a word through the entire Rambling! He just sat there humming to himself and scanning the crowd like he was looking for somebody. Half the town was up there describing his heinous deeds and the unsettling events he caused and he didn't interrupt anybody. He didn't tackle anybody. No bruhahas from the crowd on his behalf. I wasted a lot of coin on plants that day prepared to tussle and for nothing! It was most unsatisfactory. How can anybody take you seriously if you don't even wrestle nobody? So then proceedings move on to the Accoutremensing and now he's all concerned? Nobody was going to listen by then even if what he had to say hadn't been absurd. He could barely get a full sentence out. Skip: What was he trying to say? Wutrec: It was completely absurd I tell you. He was admitting guilt left and right but was trying to explain how he did it *without* dark magic. Parlor tricks and slight of hand. Throwing his voice. Bugs in hollowed fruit to make them move. That sort of thing. Kid's stuff. And he couldn't explain half the stories laid at his door! Most of them! Tried to say they never happened. Right after he admitted everything else! You can guess how far he got into that rebuttal. Skip: So he was unapologetic? Wutrec: It's hard to explain without being there. He seemed almost proud of what he'd done. But he was clearly scared. You shoulda seen his face when the sentence of exile came down. And that was that. I honestly don't know what he expected. Open and shut like I said. The Exiling Skip: So I understand you were front and center during the Exiling of Trillian Triffle? Woman: Yes, I was there. Wish I hadn't been. But my husband positively insists on seeing the Portal whenever they fire it up and the Trial was the talk of the town after all... Skip: Describe the proceedings in your own words for our readers. Woman: It started off festive enough. Typical Portal proceedings. Most of the town was out for it. Musicians scattered throughout. Lively conversations abound. Occasional shouts as kids nick possessions or tussles break out. It was a proper good ruckus. And mostly everything continued that way for the bulk of the proceedings. There was some proper booing when the guilty was brought out. His head was hanging in despair as is quite proper. I remember The Menace of Matrons hiss game was on point. I'm sure the cheers that went up when the elders ignited the Great Portal could be heard for leagues throughout the Wild. But everything changed when it came time for the Last Words. They asked him, like they do, and a hush fell over the crowd to hear. I was close enough that I could hear him humming despondently. Then he mumbled something. Even I couldn't hear. The guards gave him a poke and a prod and told him to speak up. He looked up and I'd swear his eyes had tears pooling in the corners. 'I am a necromancer', he said so softly that only those closest could hear. Us in the front reflexively took a step back. His eyes changed suddenly taking on a defiant cast. 'I AM A NECROMANCER!', he screamed. A gasp ran through the crowd with the confession. It was just... He'd denied it so consistently throughout that somehow it made him less scary despite the heinous nature of his transgressions. I was startled. Even though he was bound and held by guards I remember feeling afraid. And just then this hideous cackle exploded in the air. It was awful, just awful. It boomed as if from nowhere and just went on and on. It just kept cackling. And as if on queue this monster before us started giggling. Giggling hysterically and humming a merry tune! He scattered his pixie dust and lifted towards the sky. Giggling and humming he strained against his bonds held back only by the guards tugging the iron chain attached to his shackles. They wrestled him down and without delay threw him bodily into the Portal. The elders abated and the Portal snapped shut. And just like that, all at once, the cackle, the giggle, the buzz of the portal, it was all gone. A silence snapped into place over the glade. A silence so complete as has never been heard over a gathering of pixies. I would bet my hovel on it. It was awful. Just awful. That cackle, that silence. It haunts me to this day. And thus concludes our oral history of the Trial of Trillian Triffle. A pox on his name and may he never return to the Wild. - Skip Callahan, reporting