Location: Bashurian EmpireCity: FloranDate: Year 931 — Month 2 — Day 7
The Grand Hall of Judgement sat at the heart of Floran like it had always been there — carved from marble older than memory, wide enough to swallow sound, tall enough to shame the towers outside.
Its doors were massive. Each one was thick oak plated in bronze, tall enough for giants, etched with the twin scales of justice. When they opened, the creak rolled across the chamber like thunder held in a breath.
Inside, the air was warm. Not from sunlight — there were no fires burning. Instead, heating runes built into the stone walls exhaled slow waves of hot air, pushing back the winter chill seeping in from the mountains.
The walls themselves glowed. Gemstones, buried deep into the marble, lit the room in soft yellow-gold. Not too bright, not too dim — just enough to touch every corner and leave no space for shadows. Every face, every word, every movement was exposed. Nothing could hide here.
This wasn't a room for small trials. It wasn't made for petty thieves or local nobles. This place was built for nations.
The seats rose in wide arcs from the central floor — hundreds of them, tiered high and curved like the inside of an arena. Kings, diplomats, generals, and envoys sat shoulder to shoulder, each section marked by the crest of a different land. Some whispered to aides. Others sat stone still.
And above them all, lining the entire wall, hung the flags of dozens of countries — colors from every corner of the continent. Each one fluttered slightly in the warm air, their motion subtle but alive.
But one flag stood above all the rest. The flag of the continent itself. It was massive — bigger than a sail, bigger than any banner in the room — and it hung from the highest point of the chamber like the sky had dropped part of itself down just to watch.
At the center of the chamber, the floor was smooth black marble. Thin gold lines crisscrossed it — forming a circular pattern of runes that glowed faintly with ancient light. In the very middle stood a raised platform of polished black stone. That's where the nine judges would sit.
Behind them stretched a wide, clear window showing the skyline of Floran — rooftops gleaming in the pale winter sun. Out there, the city moved. In here, time felt like it had stopped.
Every sound carried. A chair sliding. A whisper. The scrape of a boot against marble. Nothing was lost in this place. Every word said here mattered. Every silence did too.
This was more than a courtroom. This was where empires were held accountable.Where peace lived or died depending on how a few people chose their next words.Where one lie — or one truth — could set the world on fire.
The heat of the runes filled the chamber, rising gently from the walls and floor until even the stone seemed to breathe. Dust motes shimmered under the gemstone lights. Every sound, every movement, carried through the stillness like a drumbeat.
Then came the sound of brass hinges groaning open.
The doors to the Grand Hall of Judgement swung wide.
From the eastern arch, the delegation of Elenor entered.
At the front walked High Advocate Serathiel, draped in long silver and green robes that brushed the floor with every step. His eyes were pale, almost colorless — the sort that didn't just look at a man, but through him. Two armored elves flanked him, ceremonial guards with curved blades strapped across their backs. Behind them floated a cluster of scrolls, ledgers, and rune-etched tablets, circling in a slow spiral above the polished marble.
The papers moved as though alive, spinning softly, held up by invisible threads of elven magic. Wax seals hung unbroken, their ribbons trailing faint blue light as they drifted behind their master.
The entire procession walked in silence — graceful, controlled, deliberate. Not a single parchment fell out of rhythm.
Then, from the western arch, the delegation of the Germanic Reich emerged.
Their arrival broke the stillness like a blade through glass. The sharp echo of boots on stone, the faint rattle of medals against uniform cloth — it all came in rhythm.
Leading them was Reich Representative Otto Weiss, a civilian advocate dressed in a dark-gray coat lined with thin red trim. His hair was streaked with gray, his jaw tight, his stride slow but absolute. Two aides followed behind, carrying thick stacks of folders, rolled maps, and black metal cases marked with the Reich eagle. No magic eased their burden — they bore the weight by hand.
The two delegations met in the center of the floor, standing across from each other inside the glowing circle of runes.
The nine judges looked down from their high bench, their crimson robes forming a wall of authority.
The presiding judge, Maren, spoke first. His voice was steady and deep, amplified by the room's perfect acoustics."Representatives of Elenor and of the Reich," he said, "you stand before this Tribunal to present your nations' grievances and evidence in the matter of the border incident at the northern ravine. You will speak with restraint. You will show respect. And above all, you will speak the truth."
The two advocates bowed — not to each other, but to the court.
Serathiel straightened first. His tone was calm, deliberate."The Kingdom of Elenor is ready to present its evidence, Your Honors."
Otto Weiss gave only a short nod, his expression unmoved."The Reich will listen."
Serathiel extended one hand, and the spiral of floating scrolls drifted forward, settling into a neat arc across the marble table. Their seals split open at his gesture, and each parchment unfurled in the air, forming a circle of glowing runic script.
Every word, every line, reflected faintly off the gemstone-lit walls. The entire hall turned to watch.
The trial had begun.
The scrolls floated in a slow arc before the judges, their runes glowing faintly against the warm marble light.
Judge Maren leaned forward. His voice filled the chamber like a low bell."Advocate Serathiel. Begin with your account. Describe the events at the northern ravine, as witnessed by your kingdom."
Serathiel inclined his head."As the court commands."
He raised his hand. A scroll rotated forward and unfolded, its glowing script projected above the center ring in clean lines of Old Elvish, with a translated Imperial Common overlay.
"Six days ago, in the border woods of eastern Elenor," Serathiel began, "the son of Lord Velas — heir to the Third Shimmering House — was found dead by our scouts. His body bore signs of sudden violence. A blunt head injury. Burn wounds. No witnesses at the scene. No chance for a healer."
He gestured, and another scroll floated forward, this one sealed in deep green wax."This is the initial report from the scouts of Watchpoint Selevien. They heard shouting, followed the sound, and arrived at the scene. They observed a human male kneeling over the child's body. When ordered to stop, the man fled."
Murmurs stirred from the upper galleries. Serathiel did not flinch."They pursued him," he continued. "He ran deeper into the forest, made contact with his family, and crossed into Reich territory minutes later. They carried packs, coin, and belongings. It was a planned flight."
Judge Maren raised a hand. The murmurs died."You are certain the child was dead before your scouts arrived?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Serathiel replied. "They arrived moments too late. But the body was still warm. There were no signs of another assailant. Only the human. His hands were on the boy."
Judge Veyra, a woman with stern eyes and a memory like iron, spoke next."Was the human armed?"
Serathiel shook his head."Not that the scouts could confirm. They saw no weapon. But the fire damage to the body was confirmed by our mages to be magical in origin."
Another scroll floated forward."This contains a report from our rune-forensics division. Residual fire-casting was found in the area. The magical trace was consistent with elven ignition spells — but not ones known to the victim. Our investigators believe it was cast either by the attacker… or a reckless attempt to cover the evidence."
He let that hang.
Judge Rhedon, seated second from the right, leaned forward."Could the human have tried to help? Could the burns have come from the true killer, escaping?"
Serathiel gave a polite nod. "In theory, yes. But we found no second set of tracks. No magical trace beyond the one signature. The human ran. He did not call out. He did not report the death. And when confronted… he vanished into Reich lands without answer."
A final scroll rose — a map of the forest, with positions marked in elvish red ink."This map details the timeline. From estimated time of death to border crossing was under fifteen minutes. The man did not linger. He did not wait for help. He ran."
Silence followed. The scrolls slowly dimmed, folding themselves back into neat, floating rolls.
Serathiel placed his hands behind his back and looked up at the judges."Elenor asks that the family be extradited to face questioning and trial under our laws. The child was noble-born. His death cannot go unanswered."
Judge Maren sat back slowly. His fingers folded together."Thank you, Advocate Serathiel. The court recognizes your claim and the evidence submitted. All documents will be examined in detail during recess."
He looked to the opposite side of the circle, where Advocate Otto Weiss stood silently, one hand resting on his case.
"Representative of the Reich," Maren said, "you may now respond."
The courtroom stilled.
For the first time since the tribunal began, the Reich's voice would be heard.
Judge Maren nodded once toward the Reich's side."Advocate Weiss. You may proceed."
Otto Weiss stepped forward.
No magic followed him. No glow. No theatrics.Only the sound of his hardcase brief clicking open. He removed a single folder and laid it flat on the center table.
He spoke plainly.
"The Reich does not deny that a child is dead. Nor do we dismiss the pain of a noble house in mourning. But we will not accept guilt assigned without scrutiny."
He opened the folder, pulled out a thin silver tablet, and placed it in the center.One of the judges leaned forward.
"This device," Otto said, "contains a crystal imprint — recovered from a private scribe-tower three blocks from the scene of the incident. It shows traces of high-tier elven cloaking magic in use at the time of the murder. The rune trail matches a spell school not known to the boy, nor to his personal guards. But it is consistent with a variant used by Elenor's Ghost Wardens — covert assassins used internally and abroad."
Gasps flickered through the chamber. One of the elven scribes whispered something — Serathiel raised a hand to silence him.
Otto continued without pause.
"Our scouts also found fragments of burnt fabric at the edge of the clearing — not Reich cloth, not common linen. Silk, woven with royal-thread. Matching patterns worn by Shimmering House stewards."
He snapped his fingers. One of his aides stepped forward and placed a sealed bag containing charred, shimmering fibers on the table.
"We believe," Otto said, "that the boy was not killed by a human. He was assassinated by someone his own guards did not expect to strike. A Warden. Possibly political. Possibly internal. The human — Darian — was walking the forest trail with his family. He heard the boy's scream, ran to help, and arrived just as the killer vanished."
He turned to face the judges."Your Honors, when our soldiers stopped this family at the border — the father was out of breath, covered in soot, and panicked. He thought we were elven pursuers. He was not armed. He had his wife and children with him. And he begged for protection."
Judge Veyra raised a brow. "Do you have testimony to support that?"
Otto nodded."Yes. Two soldiers who processed them at the crossing, both present today. And a recorded statement from the wife. They said the father burst into camp saying, and I quote — 'They'll burn us all if I don't speak.'"
He stepped closer to the center.
"Now then," Otto said, turning slightly to look toward the Elenor side, "if this boy was murdered in such a sudden and brutal way… where were his guards? Why was no one with him? Why are there no rune logs showing the activation of his personal warding charm?"
Serathiel's lips tightened. "The boy wandered from his escort. He often slipped away."
Otto tilted his head. "So… a noble heir — unguarded — in contested borderland?"
Serathiel said coldly, "He was not in danger until your human appeared."
Otto raised a brow.
"Interesting. Because your own evidence shows no signs of struggle — just fire. And a vanishing attacker. And yet… your scouts chose to follow the human. Not search for that other trace of magic your own forensics team logged."
Serathiel frowned. "There was no time. The human was running. We couldn't risk letting him flee."
Otto's eyes sharpened. He stepped forward, voice louder now."So instead of pursuing the source of the spell that killed the child, your soldiers chased an unarmed man carrying food and blankets?!"
A crackle of whispers rolled through the chamber. Even some diplomats in the upper gallery began murmuring.
Otto's hand slammed down on the table.
"You ignored the real killer!""Objection, Advocate Weiss—" Serathiel snapped.
But Otto wasn't finished.
He paced slightly now — eyes focused, voice sharp, rhythm building.
"You claim Darian fled 'suspiciously.' You claim his family packed in advance. Yet here—" he held up a stamped inventory, "—we have a soldier's record of the family's belongings: no weapons, no tools, just rations, coins, and a child's doll. Packed in panic. Not with intent."
Otto raised the document."And here—!" he pulled another paper from his briefcase, "—we have a second magical reading. Found near the clearing. Different signature. Traces of teleportation magic. Wild, uncontrolled. Likely cast by someone leaving the scene quickly."
He paused, then looked directly at Serathiel.
"Can you explain this second trace, Advocate? Is that also the human's fault?"
Serathiel opened his mouth—then stopped.
He gestured, and a new scroll floated forward.
"This was… not yet presented," he said. "A new witness report. A nearby villager claims to have seen a flash in the woods. Possibly… a misfire or magical flare from the accused. Or—"
Otto's hand cut the air."A new witness? Unsworn? Unnamed? Brought forward now? Convenient timing."
Serathiel scowled. "The court will weigh it as they see fit."
Otto leaned forward, slamming his palm flat on the table.
"They will. But let's not pretend this last-minute scroll fixes the hole in your timeline. Let's not pretend your case isn't full of gaps and guesses!"
The courtroom pulsed with noise now — murmurs rising, a few raised voices from the upper tiers.
Judge Maren struck the gavel once."Order!"
Otto pointed toward the rune evidence above them.
"You had magic in the air, guards out of position, an heir walking alone — and a human family just trying to survive! You turned that into a crime scene, because it was easier than facing what really happened—"
He raised the burned silk sample.
"Someone inside House Velas sent a blade into the woods. And you buried it with fire."
Serathiel stepped forward, his composure breaking for the first time. "You insult our entire court with that claim—!"
Otto didn't flinch.
"I insult no one. But I will challenge everything."
His voice dropped. Cold. Sharp.
"Because if the law doesn't dig deeper—then this isn't justice. It's theater."