Hours had passed that Alexander hadn’t bothered counting, but when guards came looking for him in the cell, he knew the time for trial had come. Most people here expected death or a severed hand — no one was going to offer you kind words or false hope, just facts everyone here had already lived through.
Roger, for once, was silent, not smiling, not mocking, just watching that boy get taken away as though he were the most dangerous criminal in this entire land.
Everything looked dark and filthy there, then slowly he began to see light — he didn’t know if it was morning light or candlelight, but it was light either way.
A guard on his right said to him:
*"I’m a messenger from your father."*
*"Really?"*
*"Yes... he wants you to know a priest will be one of the judges. No need to be afraid, you’ll walk out of there safe. And if it’s confirmed you’re the Great Priest, you’ll be fine... just hope your Blessing turns out to be the Strength Blessing."*
*"What’s he talking about? Didn’t he see me develop my sword with my right hand? I have the Evolution Blessing... there’s no way I have the Strength Blessing."*
*"Don’t know, boy, and don’t care... I’m just telling you what I was asked to say."*
It was clear to everyone that Alexander carried the Evolution Blessing, and even if he hadn’t officially received it yet, developing that sword was proof enough. Something had settled in his mind, though; after the church priest had told him that the "Great Priest" was originally supposed to carry the Strength Blessing for the prophecy to be confirmed and the condition fulfilled, he remembered his father’s words about the anomalies that appeared in the desert and among the Arab lands.
*Am I a mutation, an exception? Maybe I’ll be the first Great Priest with an Evolution Blessing... I hope so.*
The door opened, and a burst of noise erupted quickly, after he’d assumed the place was empty. A group of nobles he’d never dreamed of seeing all in one room stood on a level above him, while the prince stood on a level above all of them. It was a circular room surrounding whoever would stand in the center, and in this case, that would be Alexander, surrounded by every noble present — east, west, south, all of them there, and north under the King and prince’s leadership. As for his father, he stood there with his brother in silence, but he moved his hand slowly from a distance, as though sending a message his son Alexander didn’t understand.
The noise stopped the instant Alexander walked in, and everyone turned to look at him in the same second.
*Seems like I’m public opinion’s favorite case right now... one slip of the tongue could end this life I only just started in this world.*
Alexander stood in the center in silence, his hands bound, looking at everyone while everyone looked at him.
Then he began to see, on a raised level ahead of him, three judges. He already recognized one — the church priest — but he’d never seen the others before. What caught his attention, though, was that the lead judge, the one presumably carrying the most authority, looked at first glance like a fool; a hunched, portly man, red makeup visible on his face.
*Is he... what’s wrong with this judge? Why is he smiling like that?*
The judge began tapping his gavel on the desk, as though he were a child who loved doing it, then started speaking while the prince above laughed.
*"Silence, silence."*
*Everyone’s silent... who is this judge even talking to?*
*"Today, my lords, I’ve come to discuss a difficult matter in these times — a matter that might shake the balance of this world itself... a day when someone decided to use a forbidden power against a poor, sweet boy... a boy who dreamed of becoming a Templar knight... a boy who might have grown to become one of the greatest rulers of his land."*
Alexander thought to himself: *Richard was never a sweet person, not once... alright, this is it, I’m done. It’s over for me.*
*"I’m joking, of course... that’s the sort of thing said by people who don’t understand the law. Here, there’s no sweet boy with a bright future... no boy from north or south. There’s right and wrong, and only that."*
Alexander looked at the judge, while watching the prince keep struggling to hold back his laughter.
*Maybe it’s not over for me yet.*
The priest sat in front of the judge, unable to hide his frustration watching that judge, and said politely:
*"Might we begin directly, Judge Edward?"*
Edward answered:
*"Yes, of course... let the plaintiff of this trial step forward."*
The ruler of the western tribe with the trimmed beard rose.
*"I am, Your Honor... Maximian Lundo, ruler of the city of Sibia."*
*"State your grievance before all the nobles present."*
*"My grievance?... Your Honor, this boy used his left hand on one of the finest fighters in my land... it’s impossible for him to have a left hand without a Blessing."*
The judge replied:
*"Everyone here knows this was a competition... we all know killing is permitted in the competition, so why should this be forbidden now? Is it because he’s from the north? Do you hate northern boys, Governor?"*
Maximian looked at the judge in astonishment.
*"You’re the man of law here... we all know the left hand is forbidden except in wars or self-defense... but it’s forbidden to use in a competition... you should know this better than anyone."*
The judge, flustered, said:
*"Yes, yes, I know this... I’m just trying to gather information."*
Then Edward turned toward Alexander and said:
*"So then, boy... Alexander, son of William, a fighter with experience in five battles before turning sixteen, son of a former knight, grandson of a former knight, brother to one of the greatest fighters alive... a wealthy family of standing in this land... what’s your excuse for using that hand? You can’t tell me you didn’t know the law, because that answer would be an insult to your family’s legacy."*
Alexander stepped forward, not knowing what he might say — the truth, or a lie. He didn’t know which.
*"Your Honor... my left hand was the one that defended its owner’s life... I couldn’t control it, it acted on its own."*
Maximian shouted:
*"Liar. All of us here watched you remove that glove of your own free will."*
*"Did I?"*
Flustered, Alexander said... yes, he did.
*"Then you’re the one who placed your hand there."*
Alexander fell silent for a moment, finding nothing to say against that simple fact he couldn’t deny.
Judge Edward looked at him with that face still bearing traces of his red makeup, his strange smile never leaving him, but his tone this time carried something closer to manufactured seriousness.
*"Was using your hand necessary? Couldn’t you have just tickled him?"*
Faint laughter rose from the noble rows, but most stayed silent, as though everyone was beginning to realize that this judge, for all his apparent foolishness, might actually be steering the trial in a dangerous direction.
*Tickled him? Is he joking, or trying to make me look ridiculous in front of everyone before he passes his ruling?*
*"Your Honor,"* Alexander said, trying to keep his voice steady despite his confusion, *"he was strangling me with one hand, and his body had swollen with a strength I couldn’t match with a sword or a normal fist. There wasn’t time to think of a gentler way."*
Edward shook his head slowly, then stopped smiling entirely for the first time since the session began.
*"Alright... let’s stop joking around for a moment."*
He sat up straight in his seat, his clasped hands settling on the desk before him.
*"The boy says he was being strangled. Are there any witnesses to that exact moment? I don’t want a one-sided account."*
One of the Templars standing behind the priests’ rows stepped forward, bowing slightly in respect before speaking.
*"Your Honor, I was among those closest to that moment. I saw with my own eyes Sir Richard grab the boy’s throat and lift him off the ground with one hand, after he’d already suffered a fatal sword wound directly to his stomach. His grip on the neck was real, and the boy’s face had begun turning blue."*
The judge nodded, then turned toward Maximian.
*"Governor, do you deny that strangling occurred?"*
Maximian stammered for a moment, knowing that denying a Templar’s testimony before the entire court was a risk he didn’t want to take.
*"No... I don’t deny it. But that doesn’t justify using an entirely forbidden power. He could have surrendered, or screamed for help, instead of resorting to that cursed hand."*
A voice rose from the northern rows — one of the nobles who had defended Alexander earlier in the arena — his voice carrying an anger he made no attempt to hide.
*"Surrender? While being strangled to death? Would you have told your own son to surrender while losing air in front of your eyes, Governor?"*
A brief argument flared up between the rows again, until Judge Edward struck his gavel on the desk twice in quick succession, his face losing every trace of that earlier foolishness.
*"Enough. This is a court, not a second dueling arena."*
An immediate silence fell, as though everyone had been caught off guard by that sudden shift into firmness.
*"I’ll ask the one real question that matters to me here: was that hand capable of stopping the strangling by any means less than... what happened to his opponent?"*
He looked directly at Alexander, waiting for an answer.
Alexander paused for a moment, trying to find honest words that wouldn’t condemn him further than he already was.
*"I don’t know, Your Honor. I didn’t have enough control over it to choose the degree of force. I didn’t even know it would do what it did until it happened."*
One of the court scribes quickly wrote down that answer, while the judge stayed silent for a long moment, studying Alexander’s face with eyes that had suddenly lost every trace of that earlier childish look.
*"An honest answer, at least. But honesty alone isn’t enough to acquit a hand that killed a man entirely, without even leaving him a body to bury."*
That heavy silence settled over the hall again, until William stepped forward, without waiting for formal permission, standing with the steadiness of a man more used to addressing army commanders than court judges.
*"Your Honor, if you’ll permit me to speak."*
Edward looked at him closely, then nodded silently, granting him permission.
*"I won’t deny that what my son did was dangerous, and I won’t claim to fully understand that power. But I ask this court to consider something more important than a simple competition rule — something that might change the entire nature of this case."*
He paused for a moment, his eyes moving between the staring faces of the nobles, then returned his gaze to the judge.
*"My son may be the Great Priest."*
A wave of shocked murmurs swept through the entire hall, conflicting voices suddenly rising from every direction, some out of genuine astonishment, others in immediate anger at hearing a claim of this magnitude.
Alexander looked at his father in disbelief, not expecting that secret to be announced in front of everyone here, in this exact moment.
*What is he doing? Why now? Is this going to help me, or has he just sealed a fate far deeper than just a severed hand?*
From his raised seat, Prince Gabriel froze completely, and that strange smile that had accompanied him all day vanished entirely, while his eyes, for the first time since the session began, carried an interest he made no attempt to hide.