The court was nothing like Aisha had ever seen on Earth.
Instead of wooden benches and solemn judges, the courtroom looked like a grand coliseum. Rows of nobles, scholars, and merchants filled the gallery, whispering eagerly. Floating quills hovered above parchment, recording every word spoken.
At the very center, a throne-like judge's seat loomed high above, occupied by an elderly man wearing gold-rimmed glasses. His robe shimmered faintly, runes stitched into the fabric.
They called him the Magistrate of Truth.
Aisha stood alone at the defense side, her black suit crisp against the glowing marble floor.
Her heart hammered, but her mind was razor-sharp.
This is it. My first case in this world. If I win, they'll respect me. If I lose… I'll be labeled a fraud."
The case: a poor farmer accused of stealing a noble's enchanted horse. The penalty? Execution.
But the farmer swore he was innocent.
And when Aisha met his trembling eyes, she knew—this was her fight.
The prosecution began first.
A haughty man with slick hair and a jeweled quill strutted forward.
"Your Honor, the evidence is clear. This peasant was seen leading the noble's prized stallion through the forest at dusk. Three witnesses confirm it."
Murmurs filled the arena.
Aisha took a deep breath.
Her mind flashed back to her old world—late nights in law school, courtroom battles, standing up for underdogs. She remembered why she became a lawyer: to fight for those who couldn't fight for themselves.
When the Magistrate gestured to her, Aisha stepped forward.
"Your Honor," she began, her voice calm but firm, "the prosecution gives you only the illusion of truth. Three witnesses, yes—but all from the noble's estate. All with reason to obey his will. That is not evidence. That is coercion."
Gasps. A ripple went through the crowd.
The Magistrate leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Then tell us, Miss Aisha. How do you intend to prove otherwise?"
Aisha lifted her chin.
"I will cross-examine the witnesses myself. And by the end, this court will see the truth."
Her words echoed through the coliseum-like hall.
The crowd was electric now—nobles scoffing, commoners whispering, scholars scribbling notes.
And Aisha? She adjusted her jacket, feeling the weight of two worlds on her shoulders.
She wasn't just playing lawyer anymore.
This was her battlefield.
And the trial had only just begun.