Chapter 2

“From this day hence, you shall not cut down any tree.”

The words of the Guardian, penned by Polan the scribe, year 3000

Wood

Oliver Kapur paused to tip back his glass, pouring the last bit of cool water down his throat. He did it not because he was thirsty, but to invoke a dramatic silence in the courtroom. The audience leaned to the edge of their seats, anxious to hear him break the eerie hush.

Just the way he wanted it.

“Your honorable Justices….” Oliver took another pause to let the listeners exhale in relief, once again able to savor the sound of his voice. “Our country is growing, but so is the scarcity of its resources. For centuries we have constructed our buildings with brick, concrete, steel, and glass.

“But word has spread of a new resource. One that costs half the price and takes half the time to prepare. Contractors in Verence have created a monopoly with it. Analysts postulate they will far surpass our country in wealth, in industry, and in productivity. As Salverians, we mustn’t let that happen. The resource I speak of… is, of course… wood.”

The sacred word caused a stir in the Justice Hall.

Oliver glanced at the enthusiastic audience behind him, a satisfied smile on his lips. Hundreds of people whispered between each other, some excited, some irate. Everyone knew that this was what the entire debate was about—it was no surprise—but still… the weight of the matter was astronomical.

“The Branch I represent has voiced its desires.” Oliver projected his voice over the whispers. “They would that our nation should also take advantage of this resource. However, we all know that it is currently illegal to cut down a tree in Salveria and in most of the world. My Branch’s request, your honorable Justices—and my personal, humble request—is to reverse that law; legalize lumbering! For the sake of the industry, for the sake of our economic standing as a nation, and for the sake of our progression and advancement as a society!”

An eruption of applause and boos filled the courtroom.

“At last!” a woman shouted.

Another voice shrieked, “Blasphemy!”

Oliver held still, standing tall—not caring that height was something he was short on—confident and proud to play a crucial role in this historical moment. He blinked as dozens of pocket-sized news drones nearly blinded him with their camera flashes, but he maintained his posture. This will be front page, he thought. It’d better be.

“Order!” a Justice yelled, pounding his metal gavel.

Silence crept back into the room, an eerie interval between lightning and thunder. The drones scattered like flies, quietly returning to their positions to film the event.

Six Justices sat behind elevated marble desks, and the seventh, Chief Justice Sapel, stood front and center, metal gavel in hand. “We fully understand the import of this debate!” he said. “If the audience cannot contain its enthusiasm, then they will be escorted from the room!” He sat down after a moment of silence and leaned toward the microphone, a couple of drones revolving above his head. “Thank you, Mr. Kapur. We will now proceed with Miss Groves’ statement.”

Oliver eyed his opponent, Kimberly Groves, as she approached the marble pulpit and microphone on her side of the room. She was—remarkably—a tad shorter than he, with shoulder-length, burgundy hair and a slender figure. Beautiful… still very beautiful. Like him, she was younger than most politicians, which felt rare to Oliver; he was accustomed to debating against old, seasoned men who consistently underestimated him.

But he knew she wouldn’t make the same mistake.

“One of the most vital parts of Salverian law is freedom of religion,” Kimberly said, her voice amplified, echoing off the historical, ornate walls. “And the government must uphold and defend our right to believe what we will. I represent the Arboler Branch in this debate, which consists of many sects. And although each sect differs in doctrine, tradition, and practice, there is one belief with which they all agree. One truth each sect is willing to defend with their lives, if necessary. One divine decree they will forever cling to. Trees! Are! Sacred!”

A slew of whispers spread across the audience. Kimberly paused for effect. Several drones zipped to new filming positions. Oliver tipped his head, appraising her skill.

She continued. “One thousand years ago, the Guardian of Magic himself commanded that we abstain from cutting down trees. And we have! For over a thousand years! That is until the distant country Verence fell into darkness a decade ago. Yes, lumber may be a lucrative commodity, but the consequences of using it may be catastrophic. Trees are the source of life and magic. Without them, the world will come to an end.”

Oliver shook his head incredulously and smirked, preparing his arguments in his head. Oh Kim, he thought. You’re digging yourself into a hole.

“But that is not why we are here,” Kimberly said. “This is a courtroom, not a cathedral. This is about the law, not Holy Instructions. And the Salverian law has defended the trees for centuries because it also defends our religious rights. If the government allows a lumber industry to form in our nation, then they revoke those rights, which is unjust and immoral.

“My request, your honorable Justices, and the request of my Branch is to continue to uphold our rights of religion, maintain the law as it is written, and defend what we consider most sacred.”

Another applause rung out, but not quite as loud as the one after Oliver’s speech. Kimberly sat down next to an old, balding man who nodded approvingly at her. He was her uncle, the Grand Arboler of the Sect of the Ascended Guardian.

Oliver approached his marble pulpit and microphone with a confident smirk. “Let the record show that Miss Groves said that ‘trees are the source of life and magic,’ and that this law comes from the ‘Guardian of Magic himself.’” He looked up at the Justices above him with their forest green robes on. Two of them glowered down at him, but the other five seemed to regard him with respect.

“As she mentioned, Verence has been cutting trees for nearly a decade,” Oliver said. “The lumber industry there has met a world of opposition and persecution from the local sects, but they have also found some remarkable insights on wood. The most important thing they have found is what they have not found… no magic.” He paused. “The stories of spells, healings, elemental bendings, and flying mages are exactly what they are… stories.”

He could sense a stirring in the audience behind him. The glares of several dozen hateful eyes pricked his neck, but he ignored them.

“The Guardian of Magic…” Oliver let those words hang in the air. “A mythical man with extraordinary powers who supposedly Appeared every one thousand years to save the world from destruction… or something to that effect. Our history is splattered with his influence. And yet, the year 4000 came and went… and the Guardian never showed up. It’s 4027, and he’s still not here.

“There has been no evidence of magic in trees. No evidence of supernatural consequences from cutting them down. And no evidence of an immortal, magical being with his mystical, magical staff who appears once a millennium to order people around with his Holy Instructions. The majority of people in the world—and the citizens in Salveria—no longer believe in a Guardian of Magic. If—”

Kimberly jumped to her pulpit and interrupted. “Excuse me, Mr. Kapur. This debate isn’t based on the statistics of believers in the world. We understand full well that we Arbolers have gradually become a minority. No, this debate is based on the law, specifically, the law of freedom of religion. Laws that protect minorities like us.”

“Dutifully noted, Miss Groves,” Oliver said. “You’re absolutely right. This is about the freedom of religion. And what about the religion of the majority?”

“Secularism isn’t a religion.”

“But it is. Religion is a group of people who believe in the same thing. And we Seculars all believe that the Guardian of Magic is a myth. Now, if there is no Guardian, then there is no magical punishment. If there is no magic, and no punishment, then there is no reason to abstain from cutting trees. It won’t hurt you in the end and our rights as a religion will be upheld. The law should favor us!”

“But it will hurt us. We—”

“—How?”

This question came from Chief Justice Sapel.

Kimberly quickly composed herself, not expecting an inquiry from the Justices so soon. “Well, your honor, we believe trees are essential for Life.”

Sapel leaned forward. “Yes, they produce oxygen, but scientists have proven that there are plenty of plankton and other plants to produce more than enough oxygen for us.”

“Sorry, not that kind of life.” She licked her lips. “I meant Life, as in… well… God.”

Scoffs came from the crowd, and a few justices rolled their eyes, but she continued. “We believe all trees are connected to the Tree of Life, which is our goddess and the beating heart of planet Merith. If we destroy too many trees, she may die, and so will the planet, and us along with her.”

There were a few snickers in the audience that sounded intentionally loud. Oh Kim, Oliver thought, shaking his head. So gullible. I told you to keep away from your uncle.

“Miss Groves,” said another Justice, who softly tapped her fingers together. “There have been natural forest fires in the past, hundreds of trees lost, and we haven’t noticed any decay on Merith.”

“Nor have we ever seen any evidence of Life’s existence,” Chief Justice Sapel added.

Kimberly straightened her posture. “There is a tree in the Capital Grove that we believe is the Tree of Life. You can see her, touch her, treespeak with her.”

“But has that tree ever reacted to forest fires?” Sapel asked. “Natural disasters, Verence’s lumber industry or… anything other than the change of seasons?”

“We believe she reacts in ways we cannot see or that are yet to come. Just because we cannot see them, doesn’t mean they are not there.”

“Ah… the faith conundrum,” another Justice said.

Oliver jumped in, not wanting the Justices to do his job for him and take all the glory. Their questions revealed what he’d expected; this debate was already won. The Justices sided with him. But the arguments still had to be made to make things official. The audience needed to be convinced. “My question, Miss Groves, is what do you mean by ‘too many?’”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You said if we destroy too many trees, then this mythical Tree of Life may die. So, how many is too many?”

“Well—”

“You believe this… Guardian of Magic told the people to stop cutting trees because they were becoming extinct? Well, are trees even endangered now? No! Far from it! After a thousand years of unmolested growth, millions upon millions of trees cover the land. Now, would it hurt this Tree of Life, if we cut only a few thousand?”

Kimberly swallowed. “I don’t believe—”

“It won’t,” Oliver stated. “And that’s all we’re asking for.” He faced the Justices again. “The Secular Branch does not want to burn all the trees to the ground. Yes, we have different beliefs than the Arbolers, but we will respect their beliefs by limiting the number of trees being used.”

“The problem with that proposal,” Kimberly said, looking up at the Justices, too, “is that it’s a slippery slope to eventually having no limit at all. After a year or so of successful lumber, there will be a demand for more, and the limit will be extended. Another year, and it will be removed completely. Forgotten.

“For this reason, my Branch asserts that it doesn’t want a single tree to be cut! To do so would be a major offense to all Arbolers! And if necessary, we will defend the trees with or without the government’s aid!”

Oliver opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by the roar from the audience. Arbolers and Seculars alike were on their feet shouting at the top of their lungs, shaking fists, and pounding on the back of their metal chairs. The sound was deafening.

And alarming.

For the first time in this debate, Oliver began to worry, not for fear of losing—never that—but because of the sheer ferocity that was evident between the two Branches. He knew they hated each other. They always had. He’d expected this to be a heated debate. He knew the Arbolers would resist, scrambling to protect their precious little trees. But this was close approaching a level he’d hoped it never would.

The point where words were no longer sufficient to settle an argument.

He could see it in their eyes. Not just in the Arbolers, but even in members of his own Branch, the Seculars, men and women alike. The hate. The anger. He watched them with concern, his mouth agape, still unable to rebut Kimberly’s statement.

Did I lead them to this anger? he thought. Or is this debate simply revealing what was already there, like pulling away the Merith’s crust and revealing the boiling magma underneath, waiting… yearning to erupt?

Chief Justice Sapel had been pounding his metal gavel for a while before Oliver noticed. Eventually—a very long eventually—the audience quieted, but the violent energy persisted.

Oliver glanced at Kimberly. She looked unnerved too. Maybe even more so than he. Had she realized her words were less like words for a courtroom and more like words a war general spoke before charging into battle? Her words had a stronger effect than maybe she’d realized.

Sapel looked frazzled, perhaps even slightly winded from pounding the gavel for so long. His white hair floundered as he perspired. Once the room had faded back to mostly silence, he took a deep breath, ready perhaps to deliver a sharp rebuke to the audience members and excuse them from the Justice Hall. Oliver welcomed that idea, eager for a break.

Justice Sapel opened his mouth to begin his spiel, but he was cut off by the sound of gunshots.