3. Hard Evidence
Ginsea visited the neighborhood in Amor he’d usually avoid at all costs. Himnib was scheduled to experience the Flame in a week. The Bear-Shepherd was a criminal—he’d broken all those laws with his chaotic sheep!—but such a high punishment was absured. Unlawful. He’d have to win his case against the king quickly.
And so the hamster explored the outer neighborhoods. The place where animals did not have a bag of gold to spend every day. The place soldiers only visited to arrest, not to protect. The place which the king had probably long forgotten existed and was part of his rule.
Wolves trudged past, their skeleton visible below their thin, hungry skin. The public square was covered in garbage and broken objects, making it hard for Ginsea to find a path to the center. The well there had such a low water level that he doubted it had ever contained any water.
He planned to yell at all the bystanders from the center. It wasn’t necessary: his reputation preceded him.
“You’re writing your own obituary,” a Giant Wolf grunted, as he lay on a low wall, warming to the sunlight. “A case against the king? Hamsters are insane.”
“Why not? The law exists for justice. And how could it be just for one animal to get away with a lot more than other animals?”
Three sheep walked past. Sometimes, members of Bar-Bar’s tribe entered the city, despite closing the gate. Ginsea had never been able to catch them breaking a regulation, however hard he tried or secretly spied on them.
“If you think the case is so impossible,” he said loudly, “then help me gather as much evidence as possible!”
The hamster was smaller than all other animals on the square. His high, squeaky voice barely rose above some chattering chickens and the whines of hungry children.
“Evidence?” a chicken said. “Look around you!”
Ginsea rolled his eyes. “That is no hard evidence for a court case. I need proof that the king has broken many laws. Enough to lock him up—and the law does clearly state that criminals can’t be king.”
Nobody helped. They shrugged and trudged onwards. Stay a little longer, and he felt as if his eyes would only be able to see a brown, dirty blur.
He’d expected the rich inhabitants to ignore him. But these ones? Who suffered the mad king every day? Who had nothing to lose? They had to be able to help him.
“Everything helps. A suspicious break in? Someone arrested without reason? A conversation you overheard?”
But of course. They said nothing, because rule 8.9 clearly said any criticism aimed at the king was also punishable. “I promise you full protection, whatever you tell me. So spoken, so done.”
Oh? Really? Like how he’d “protected” Himnib?
He tried to radiate confidence as he studied the crowd. The wolves seemed one wrong word away from eating him alive.
It had to be hard for them. Hamsters were tasty food to them, to be captured without effort. But that’s exactly why they needed the laws! It allowed a prosperous city full of different animals!
A bear walked towards him. Finally! But then he stepped aside at the last possible moment.
“Oh, well, Ginsea,” the bear whispered as he passed by. “I suggest you … take a look underneath the aquaduct.”
Ginsea didn’t react. He waited some thirty heartbeats, then pretended to be disappointed and ran for the aquaduct.
A masterful creation, like a bridge through the seven hills of Amor, which was supposed to bring clean drinking water to everyone. Strangely enough, the water often stuck around near the palace district.
Yes! The bear had given him a first approach.
A quick search later he discovered a broken segment of the aquaduct. The branch that should’ve delivered water to this neighborhood … was gone. Instead, stone and clay had been thrown into the hole to stop any drop of water being spilled.
Ginsea was small and agile enough to climb into the aquaduct through some tiny holes. “Overdue maintenance of public services,” he mumbled. “Barely a fine, but it’s a start.”
Then he discovered the real reason for coming here.
Below him, a wolf cut into the stones. In his mouth he held a pickaxe, designed for quadrupeds, and could crack stones by moving his entire head and body in a forward motion.
He was destroying someone’s home.
Ginsea wanted to yell the exact rules this would broke, when he saw who it was.
“Wolzam?” He climbed down, curious. What was the youngest prince doing here?
“Oh, good morning Ginsea,” he said joyfully. His face only showed exhaustion.
“What … what are you doing, oh my royal prince?”
Wolzam laughed at the nickname. “Oh, this is something called the Test of Princes. Every prince has to do this to earn their place in the palace.”
Ginsea checked his memory. No, he’d never heard or seen this test before. “And the test requires punishing poor Amori?”
“No, no, no,” Wolzam said. Panting, his long tongue drooping, he dropped the pickaxe. The side wall of the house crumbled entirely, causing the roof to follow quickly. Three bunnies ran from their home before they were squashed.
“This family hasn’t paid taxes for months,” he said. “So this—”
“I know the regulations,” Ginsea said gruffly.
“What will we do now?” a young bunny girl cried. “Where is our new home?”
“It might … it might be a while before we get a new home, dear,” her mother said.
The father of the family ran at Wolzam at full angry, but calmed himself down when he noticed Ginsea. “And how are we supposed to pay taxes, ay? If the king refuses to pay us for the grain we deliver him, ay? You are the thieves!”
The family walked away with downcast faces.
To his surprise, Wolzam also started to clean up the mess he made. Surely these weren’t tasks for a prince?
“What, exactly, is the Test of Princes?”
“Oh, you know.” Wolzams joyful young voice drooped of exhaustion. “I once had to rebuild part of the aquaduct. I slept a month in the forest outside of Amor, without food or drink. On the king’s most recent birthday, I had the honor of being stuck inside a flower pot all day to play a flower for the guests. And then you have the fire I was commanded to start and—”
“With me. Now.”
Of course, Wolfar had appointed himself as the judge in the court case. But he had kept his word: he respected the law and would do this lawfully. Wolfar had not endlessly delayed the case or spread false rumors—nasty tricks to escape justice eternally. He’d even invited the entire Council of Amor and waited until they could attend.
One might nearly believe Wolfar agreed with Ginsea that the king could be a criminal.
So when Ginsea entered that marble room the next day, the entire council surrounded him with their ears and eyes sharp. This tiny room was obviously no match for the Council of Kame, the beautiful world wonder that contained hundreds of companions. But when you stood at the center of the room, Ginsea still grew nervous.
He walked circles and met the eyes of every, single, council member. Among them, he found a rat that looked out of place, writing down every single word on some crumbled parchment.
“I have placed my ear to the stories and experiences of Amor inhabitants. And what I heard was shocking. The king has put his unlawful tentacles into every aspect of life! And so it is!”
This statement sent a shockwave through the council. He’d do well to remember that the current laws still punished any criticism aimed at the king.
“But today, I only want to focus on one piece of hard evidence that I’ve collected in this short time.”
He looked Wolfar in the eyes.
“The criminal treatment of his own son, Wolzam. Thus I have spoken!”
Council members screamed to anyone who’d listen. Wolfar stomped and yelled for order.
Wolzam shuffled to the center of the room, encouraged by Ginsea. There, he told his story. The entire list with things the royal family—his father and brothers—had made him do under the guise of the “Test of Princes”.
The anger of Wolfar grew with every item. Until the judge stood before his younger brother, teeth bare, nose against nose, causing Wolzam to swallow the other half of the list.
“You did the right thing,” Ginsea whispered. “I will protect you to the full extent of the law.”
The hamster pointed for Wolfar to return to the judge area.
“What did you hear? I heard seventeen offenses. Child labor. Denying animal rights, such as food and water. Refusing to pay. Raising taxes just to let entire neighborhoods go to waste. Retreating all soldiers for a sudden attack on all Barbarians, opening us up to an attack from the Hens like a helpless baby. Must I continue?”
“Oh, well, my my,” Wolfar said. “The word of a little kid with a fantasy and a mad hamster. Against the word of everyone else.”
“Let the king explain himself. Give me more time and I’ll bring more hard evidence.”
“That will be unnecessary. The king retains the right to give whatever commands he wants. How families treat their children is not our problem, and how we use taxes is up to my brother Wodrik. Nice try, Ginsea, but when it comes to the law—you have no hamster leg to stand on. And so I end my speech.”
The entire council, clothed in those impractical white robes, were locked in fierce discussion. They examined the evidence, mostly worrying about the likelihood that Wolzam was not just a kid with a fantasy, but that he spoke the truth.
“But,” Wolfar said to the council, “I am just one humble judge. We are Amori, we are clean, and civilized, and lawful. And so I place my ear to the judgment of the wise council! What do you vote?”
Ginsea paused the room by raising his paws in alarm. “We can’t vote without considering consequences. If the king is removed, we have a vacuum of power. Somebody needs to become the new king.”
He turned to the council. “I propose to hold completely free elections to find his successor. Anyone can participate and win.”
“Pardon?” screamed Wolfar at Ginsea. “You are insane. I return to my original statement: you have no case. Disappear before I eat you!”
Ginsea stepped away. As he grabbed Wolzam, however, the wolf was already dragged to the other exit by his big brother.
He saw it now. He wouldn’t win anything and he couldn’t protect anyone. No matter how well he used the rules and regulations. Wolfar wasn’t against removing the king, but only if the current rules of succession were being followed: the oldest son automatically became the new king.
It was time to apply the laws more radically.