The Twelve Wizard Trials

Four- Let the Trials Begin!

A/N: Alright guys, you've recieved my apology gift, a chapter of this, and a chapter of Hellfire will be uploaded in a few, just finishing it up. Funny story, I've been working on this and Hellfire simultaneously, and i feel pretty good about my multitasking skills, if you ask me! Anyway, thinking about changing the schedule a bit, maybe Hellfire will be on any other day EXCEPT Wednesday, just so 12 Trials can get its spotlight, i don't know. But whatever happens, I do it for y'all! 

You will complete Twelve Trials...

Gaelic stared at the black space that was his prison wall. Twelve Trials? What kind of Trials?! Deadly Trials? Extremely easy Trials? Extremely diffucult Trials? Cute and fluffy Trials? ABSOLUTELY INSANE, INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS SUICIDAL TRIALS?! Any type of specificity would've have been easier on Gaelic. Butr because of the vague nature of the Verdict of the Magistrate, caused Gaelic's mind to run ramplant with imaginative, almost impossible ideas as to how these Trials will be.

Then there was that same Mage again, standing at attention, his back to the cell. 

"So, uh, Mister Mage guy?" he asked, trying to break the silence.

Still not turning his back, " My name isnt Mister Mage Guy..." he said with a very obvious hint of irritation at the inmaturity of the question, "It's Cyrus, and what is it?"

"Um... nothing really, just wanted to make small talk?"

"Well I dont do small talk. I enforce the law. I keep Karn safe. And I help get rid of scum like you", there was venom in those words. Words that hit a nerve in Gaelic. It wasn't hurt, or sadness, it was indignation. 

"What happened to all that sympathy? One mintute you're all "sorry" for me, the next your calling me scum? I told you I DIDN'T DO IT! Niche framed me! Put you under an Illusion spell"

"Thats exactly what a lowly Conjurerer would say. I dont even know why we didnt start an Inquisition, to weed you little Nether-lovers out!"

The false name calling, only infuriated Gaelic more, "Yea well, not everyone has a high opinon of Mages either! You think you're so high and mighty and the staunch magic protectors that keep Karn safe from evil Magics! But everyone thinks, you shoot spells before you think, that you're all a bunch of bullies who can't even  tell the differnece between guilty or innocent, unless the Magistate tells you so! You're just the lapdogs of a Council full of withering old geezers!", Gaelic exclaimed, knowing full well the treasonous words he spoke. 

The Mage finally did turn towards him, whatever look he gave, was hidden behind his sunglasses. But Gaelic could guess it was a angry scowl. 

" Boy, you're very lucky you're already paying for your crime, or I'd add Treason to your list of charges!", Cyrus said assertively, "I don't have to defend myself, or my fellow Mages, and the way they protect this City to the likes of you!", he continued. 

The door to the cells opened suddenly, taking Gaelic and Cyrus by surprise. At the doorway, stood another Mage, sternly signalling Cyrus to come talk to him. Although Gaelic couldn't hear their words, he could tell by their tense expressions that it, first, concerned him and his Trials, and secondly, was something  very bad was going to happen concerning the aforementioned Trials. 

Then their conversation stopped, as Cyrus was accompanied by the nameless Mage, back to his cell, to which the apprehension within Gaelic almost reached a boiling point, What is about to happen? What is Cyrus going to tell me? 

"Kid, the Council has come to a consensus regarding your Sentencing. Apparently they initally decided yout Trials to begin tomorrow at First Light, but they've reached a new decsion..."

"On whose urging?", Gaelic asked, a suspicious thought crossing his mind, Dextris.

"Councilman Dextris", said the other Mage

Knew it.

"Gaelic Dresden, your  Twelve Trials begin immediately, you will be transported to your First Trial...as of... now", said Cyrus, a small smile playing across his face.

There was a flash of white light. 

Gaelic's eyes opened, to which he saw a grassy field as the wind blew in between each blade. He sat up and looked upon his surroundings. Although fear creeped its way through his body, the first thought that came to him, was completely the opposite, I'm free! I can feel the air on my face! 

And then reality gave him a slap in the face, Oh crap! Where am I?

Vote if you feel so inclined. Comments are appreciated, follwing makes me feel "amaze-balls", which is a term I have appropiately used, thanks to a good friend of mine, Amir_Agha, CHECK HIM OUT!  He has recently given me shout outs, and its time I return the gesture!

Thinking about a new "sign-off" since my old one is too lengthy, to those who understand the reference...

Good Night, Night Vale!