[Don't Starve] Someone I'm Close To {Maxwil}

Chapter 7- His Trial

All eyes were on Wilson as he stepped up to where the defendants stood before his little sister.

"He pleads not guilty." Wilson said again, this time more seriously.

"What happened to no lawyers, Wilson?" Willow raised an eyebrow.

"Please, just hear me out!" He begged. No way had he kissed a murderer last night. No way. "I say he couldn't have done it because the blades of the weapons carried by his clones simply could not have made the same marks the weapon used on Wickerbottom made!"

"Show me your proof." Willow challenged. In this moment, she was less like a sister and more like a real judge. The difference was enough to make Wilson visibly cringe.

"Help me carry the body over and I'll show it to you." Wilson retorted, mimicking his sister by crossing his arms. Willow considered this for a moment and nodded. The two wandered over to where Wickerbottom's corpse lay.

"Have you gone mad?!" Willow whispered as the two hoisted up the old librarian. "You're defending this man, after all that's happened?"

"I went mad a long time ago, dear sister." Wilson smiled weakly. "Just listen to me, okay? It'll all make sense in a moment. Besides, we have no proof Wigfrid's actually telling the truth." At least, for now they didn't. Bruises had already begun to form on the body, and the sight nearly made Wilson vomit on the spot. Despite this, however, the two managed to lift and carry the body over to the makeshift podium on which Willow had stood. They set it down and Wilson unbuttoned the shirt collar again, revealing the gaping neck wound.

"As you can see," Wilson pointed out the sides of the wound. "This cut was made rather sloppily, and was clearly made with a serrated blade. Maxwell's movements with a sword are too precise, and the blade of said sword are perfectly straight and deadly sharp. While it's an interesting accusation to make, Wigfrid, evidence shows there's no way his sword could have made this cut."

Wigfrid sneered at him. "Oh really. And how can you be so sure? Maybe he messed up his cut on purpose to make it seem-"

"No." Wilson cut her off. "Not possible. The shape of the blade helps determine how the skin is cut, in that I mean it shapes the wound itself. If the cut was smooth, the wound would be neater than this. This was a sloppy job, almost like the person holding the weapon had difficulty handling it." He smiled. "It wouldn't be easy to slice a person's throat with the serrated blade of a spear, would it, Wigfrid?"

The crowd gasped.

"What?! Like I said, I LOVED Wickerbottom! I could never do it!"

"Maybe not." Wilson nodded. "But let me show you why it couldn't have been Maxwell, either." He turned to the taller man next to him. "Pull out the Codex Umbra."

Maxwell looked surprised. "Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?" Wilson cocked his head. "Do it." 'It may be your only chance of being proven innocent.'

Carefully, Maxwell retrieved the Codex Umbra from his inventory.

"Good. Now summon a shadow clone." Wilson commanded, his stare unbreaking and equally as serious as the one his sister wore.

Maxwell mumbled a spell in what sounded like Latin and a shadow clone appeared next to him, sword in hand.

Wilson nodded and rolled up his shirt sleeve.

"What are you doing?" The magician asked uneasily. No one else spoke, but the tone in the man's voice was present in emotion form in the eyes of everyone around him. The scientist held his arm out without a second thought.