Segment 1: The Tribunal Convenes
The morning air in Bayhalden Ward was crisp, sharpened by low clouds and the clatter of hooves on cobbled stone. The streets had been swept clean. Couriers moved quickly. And outside the provisional courthouse annex, a small but watchful crowd gathered beneath the royal banners.
Today would mark the first full tribunal in Arcadian history.
Inside, the hearing chamber had been restructured. What had once served as a storage hall for civic supplies now stood draped in deep blue and silver—colors of the Crown and the Court. A temporary dais of realmstone and aged oak marked the judicial bench, and behind it stood the crest of the Royal Codex, newly engraved:
"Law is the Crown's shadow. It moves with us—or we fall into darkness."
At the central table, Magistrate Harwin Kestel adjusted the cuff of his robe and reviewed the docket slate. He was no longer alone. To either side sat two additional magistrates recently sworn under Royal Ordinance 2.1—the first formation of what would become the Triadic Court of Crownstead.
Each bore a different legal background.
Sera Naleen, native-born legal scholar of Alderwood lineage, versed in historical land codes.
Donric Vale, a former barrister from Earth, summoned during the Second Alignment Surge, specializing in criminal procedure and civil liberties.
Together, they formed a balanced voice of custom, reason, and discipline.
Kestel addressed the room. "Let it be known and recorded by system and scribe: the First Royal Tribunal of Crownstead is now in session."
In the gallery, Officer Kyla Merin sat in full uniform, her FTO beside her. Her report had been accepted, verified, and entered into the tribunal archive two days earlier. Now, she was here to observe—not as an enforcer, but as a witness to the rule of law.
To her left, Callen Vire leaned quietly against the rear rail, dressed in his medic blues. His expression was unreadable, but his presence hadn't gone unnoticed.
A soft chime sounded as the Royal Officer Registry crystal pulsed near the witness podium.
The accused was brought in—uncuffed now, but under armed escort. His name would be heard. His actions judged. And no bloodline or excuse would protect him from the weight of law.
Kestel stood.
"This tribunal is not here to punish emotion," he said. "It is here to determine violation. Of oath. Of duty. Of person."
A quiet filled the room.
Then the record crystal shimmered, beginning its official transcription.
And for the first time, Arcadia's justice would not be spoken from a throne—
—but from a court.
Segment 2: Testimony and Truth
The chamber was still. No cross-chatter. No theatrics. Just the steady hum of the Record Crystal, capturing every breath, every word, and every heartbeat of justice.
At the center, the accused stood before the tribunal bench—posture defiant, though his eyes betrayed an awareness that no ward title, no kinship claim, could silence what came next.
Magistrate Kestel gestured to the left podium. "Call the first sworn witness."
Officer Kyla Merin stood.
As she approached, a low arcane pulse swept over the space, activating the Oath Sigil Pad beneath her boots. The moment she placed her right hand over the Codex medallion, the chamber acknowledged her oath.
"Officer Kyla Merin, Badge ST2-ART-TRO-1524. Sworn to duty, service, and truth under Royal Articles I, IV, and V."
Kestel gave a single nod. "Proceed."
Kyla didn't read from a scroll. She didn't need to.
"We responded to a dispatch for possible elder abuse in Gatewatch Ward," she said clearly. "My FTO and I arrived within six minutes. We located the elder female—Ms. Della Vonn—in her residence. Visible bruising. Guarded rib posture. Wrist lacerations partially treated."
She took a slow breath.
"The suspect—her relative—was on scene, uncooperative. He refused verbal commands and attempted to obstruct emergency care. Victim later disclosed past incidents consistent with a pattern of harm."
Vale, the Earth-born magistrate, leaned forward. "Did you observe any injuries inconsistent with an accidental fall?"
"Yes," Kyla replied. "Impact bruising across multiple planes. Defensive posture evident. Medics confirmed as much on-scene."
"Were you trained to distinguish accidental trauma from assault trauma?"
"Yes, sir," Kyla said without hesitation. "Under protocol section 17-B, Basic Forensic Indicators."
"And did your FTO confirm and co-sign your observations?"
"He did."
The second witness was called: EMT Callen Vire.
He stepped into the sigil field, placed his hand on the Codex plate, and spoke his oath with the same calm certainty that had marked his arrival days ago.
"Emergency Medical Technician Callen Vire. Registry ID: HQ-ARM-1372. Sworn under Articles II and V."
Sera Naleen addressed him. "Describe the victim's condition in clinical terms."
"Blunt force trauma to the left cheekbone," Callen said. "Possible prior rib bruising in stages of delayed healing. Wrist laceration poorly bandaged with household gauze. No indication of self-infliction. Victim presented with verbal hesitancy and anxiety consistent with prolonged coercion."
"Was medical transport advised?"
"Yes."
"Was the suspect cooperative?"
"No," Callen said plainly. "He attempted to block my access to the patient."
A quiet murmur passed through the gallery—hushed quickly by the constable at the back.
Callen stepped down without theatrics. His words had already done what needed doing.
Kyla returned to her seat beside Deyne.
He leaned in slightly. "Textbook delivery."
She whispered back, "I wasn't aiming for a textbook."
"You weren't," he agreed. "You aimed for truth."
And the room had felt it.
Magistrate Kestel looked to his peers.
"Testimony has been given. The truth has been recorded."
He tapped the bench once.
"The law now prepares to speak."
Segment 3: Judgment Without Favor
The light from the Record Crystal dimmed to a pale white as the final testimony sealed. All eyes turned toward the tribunal bench. There was no jury. No gavel. Only the three magistrates seated behind the sigil-etched rail, cloaked in the authority granted by the Articles of Allegiance and the Sovereign's command.
The accused, now stripped of pretense, stood without counsel—having declined representation, confident that his name and bloodline would speak louder than any law.
Kestel's voice rang clear:
"Before this court renders its judgment, the accused is afforded the right to respond. Corven Drenn, you may speak in your own defense or submit to silence."
Corven lifted his chin.
"What defense should I offer?" he spat. "A doddering old woman forgets her steps, and now I'm labeled a criminal? This realm hands out guilt like charity. You want a scapegoat, not a trial."
Kestel replied without ire. "You were given the right to speak. Your words now join the record."
The crystal pulsed once.
Magistrate Harwin Kestel rose first.
"Royal Law is not drawn from lineage," he said, voice steady and clear. "It is drawn from oath, from conduct, and from the recognition that no citizen stands above accountability."
He paused.
"The testimony of Officer Merin and Medic Vire aligns with medical evidence and incident reports. The Royal Officer Registry confirms the sworn oaths of all involved. The Articles of Allegiance demand not vengeance—but clarity."
He turned to his peers.
Magistrate Sera Naleen gave a silent nod. Magistrate Donric Vale tapped the corner of the docket and spoke one word:
"Binding."
Kestel addressed the room.
"This tribunal finds the accused—Corven Drenn—guilty of the following offenses under Royal Statute IV and V:
Unlawful physical harm against a vulnerable elder
Breach of caregiver duty
Violation of sworn oath of residence protections
He drew a breath.
"Effective immediately, the accused is to be placed in long-term custodial holding at the Southwatch Civic Detention Annex until the Crown's permanent judicial complex is completed. Upon transfer, further review for Realm Sentencing under Article V subsection 12 will be conducted."
He turned his gaze to the man—now pale, shoulders sunken.
"You are hereby struck from civic registries, banned from oath-bound service, and marked as Dishonored in the Royal Officer Registry. Your name will carry no command, only record."
System Notification: Disavowed Status LoggedName: Corven DrennRegistry Classification: OathbreakerSentence: Remanded Custody, Awaiting Realm Tribunal Oversight
The accused was led from the room. Not with spectacle.
But with certainty.
After the doors closed, Kestel looked to the gallery.
"This court stands as the Crown's mirror," he said. "What it sees in our justice, it reflects into our future."
He stood fully and bowed his head—not to the banners, but to the officers present.
"Let that reflection be clear."
Outside, beneath a darkening sky, Kyla and Deyne stood near the stairwell of the annex, watching citizens file out slowly.
"They believed it," she whispered.
"They needed to," he replied.
Segment 4: Between Duty and Dignity
Later that evening, long after the tribunal hall had emptied and the Record Crystal had dimmed, Officer Kyla Merin sat alone in the small breakroom above Frostmere Rise Station. Her half-eaten meal sat beside her—a bread roll untouched, a mug of steeped rootwater now lukewarm. She stared out the narrow window across the rooftops of Gatewatch Ward, the city lit by realm-lanterns and the slow churn of the night patrols.
Her partner, Laren Deyne, entered quietly and took the seat across from her without a word. For a while, neither spoke.
Eventually, Kyla broke the silence.
"I knew what he did. I knew it the moment I saw her. But I still hoped—just a little—that I was wrong."
Deyne didn't correct her. He didn't soften it either.
"You hoped because you still see people as capable of better. That's not a weakness, Merin. That's why you're in the right uniform."
Kyla looked down at her collar number badge, then back toward the city lights.
"There's something hollow in it, though. Knowing you wrote the report, said the truth, followed every protocol—and still had to look that man in the eye and hear him lie like he was the victim."
"Law doesn't change hearts," Deyne said quietly. "It just holds the line until something stronger does."
A comm crystal flickered above the station's front door—standard rotation check-in. Kyla made no move to answer. Another officer would handle it.
She leaned forward, finally sipping the now-cold rootwater.
"What do you think happens to her?" she asked. "Della."
Deyne folded his hands.
"She recovers. Slowly. Maybe never fully. But now she knows she wasn't forgotten."
He paused.
"And the next person who tries to hurt someone like her… knows that Arcadia remembers."
Outside, the Realm was still fragile. The streets were still too quiet. The courts still makeshift.
But for the first time, something held—not just by law, or force, or sovereign order.
But by those who stood in its name.
Kyla looked out one last time and whispered,
"If we don't protect them first… what are we building at all?"