The tension in the air was high. Silence conquered the atmosphere.
Villagers began gathering at the Village Chief’s house after witnessing what had just happened. The silence was broken only by the sound of whispering and fearful murmurs.

“Silence!” Tyrone’s roar thundered throughout the village.

The villagers froze. Silence returned, heavier than before. No one dared breathe. All eyes were fixed on the masked man whose very presence radiated command.

“Summon Iron Marshal.”

Ash’s book began to glow. A shining yellow portal appeared in front of him.
Ten humanoid figures in full plate armor, each carrying a greatsword, emerged one by one from the light.

Six marched straight to stand behind Reginald, Oswin, and Fulke — guarding them.
Three moved to carry the unconscious guards away from Reginald, placing them near the gathered villagers before standing watch.
The last escorted Ellie and her grandfather safely toward the crowd.

Reginald’s face was drenched with sweat. Six Iron Marshals stood around him, their greatswords stabbed into the ground. The masked figure in white gazed at him — a stare so sharp it felt as though it pierced through his very soul. He could feel it — this was the end of him.

From a small bag at his belt, Tyrone took out a book — smaller and thinner than Ash’s, but bearing the same intricate decoration.

“In the matter of the People of the Barony of Elmsmere versus the House of Kerrick and Bailiff Brandt Fulke,” Tyrone began solemnly.

“Charges for defendant one, the House of Kerrick, are as follows,” he continued, reading from the book.
“Extortion. Abuse of Authority. Unlawful Tax Collection. Unlawful Seizure of Property. Threats and Coercion of Villagers. Abduction. Attempted Abduction. Enforcing Involuntary Servitude. Unlawful Detention. Sexual Assault and Torture. Rape and Murder in the First Degree.”

Reginald stood silent, petrified in fear.

“Charges for defendant two, Brandt Fulke, are as follows,” Tyrone continued.
“Aiding and Abetting Extortion. Complicity in Abuse of Authority. Unlawful Tax Collection. Unlawful Seizure of Property. Threats and Coercion of Villagers. Conspiracy to Commit Abduction, and Obstruction of Justice.”

Fulke’s legs gave out. His face turned pale as tears began to form in his eyes.

Ash turned to him.
“Mr. Fulke, your plea?”

“Y–Y–Your Honor! I request a plea deal, please!” Fulke cried, stumbling forward.
Two Iron Marshals immediately restrained him, pulling him back.
“I–I’ll tell everything about the Baron’s crimes! I’ll testify, I swear!” he begged.

“The prosecution moves to deny Mr. Fulke’s request,” Miki interjected coolly.

“Present your case,” ordered Ash.

Miki stepped forward. From her bag, she produced a book. Flipping through its pages, it began to glow blue. A large holographic screen formed above her.

The villagers gasped in awe. None of them had ever witnessed such magic before — Even Reginald’s eyes widened.

Images of Fulke appeared on the screen, along with portraits of several men — all of them the village chiefs from across the barony.

“Please direct your attention to Exhibit A,” Miki said calmly. “This is a recorded conversation between Mr. Fulke and the Village Chief of Elmswood.”

One image filled the screen and began to move. The crowd gasped again — the picture was alive, speaking.
The recording showed Fulke blackmailing the Village Chief of Elmswood, demanding an outrageous “emergency tax.”

“Now, Exhibit B,” Miki continued.

She played one blackmail recording after another, followed by testimony videos from the other village chiefs — each describing Fulke’s crimes in grim detail.

“Kill him!” someone shouted.

The crowd erupted in anger.

“ORDER!”

Ash’s deep voice cut through the chaos like a blade. The Iron Marshals turned toward the crowd, their armored presence alone restoring silence.

“Mr. Fulke,” Ash said, his tone steady as stone. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“I–I was forced to do it, Your Honor!” Fulke stammered. “I didn’t want to harm the villagers—I swear! ”

“I knew you’d say that,” Miki said with a sharp grin.

Fulke’s face drained of color — he knew whatever came next would destroy him.

“I request the court’s attention to this final exhibit,” Miki declared.
Her book glowed brighter. The screen flickered—then displayed a garden.

“This recording was taken near the Baron’s manor.”

The villagers stared as the figures came into view. Reginald, in fine clothes, sipping wine. Fulke approached, smiling.

“Gooood day, my lord,” Fulke greeted with his usual pesky grin.

“Ah, Mr. Fulke,” Reginald replied lazily. “Anything to report?”

“Nothing to report, actually, my lord,” Fulke said with a smile.

“Then what’s your business here?” Reginald asked.

“I heard one of your toys..... expired.”

Reginald raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“I’ve found a candidate for replacement,” Fulke said with a sly grin, nudging Reginald’s shoulder.
Reginald chuckled. “Elaborate.”

“There’s a cutie in Elms Lake. The Village Chief’s granddaughter.”

“A cutie, hm?” Reginald stroked his chin.
“Yes, my lord—cute and yooooung,” said Fulke , eager to please. “We could go see her for yourself.”

“Your suggestions never disappoint me,” Reginald smirked. “Let’s go for a look.”

“I’ll prepare the carriage,” Fulke said, leaning closer. “And if the candidate is—”

“Don’t worry, Fulke. If she’s as good as you say, I’ll compensate you handsomely—as usual.”
Both men laughed. The recording ended.

Fulke collapsed, trembling. His face turned deathly white, a wet stain spreading between his legs.

“As you can see from all the evidence presented,” Miki said, her tone sharp and unwavering. “Mr. Fulke is guilty of every charge — and it has been proven he acted willingly, for personal gain. His appeal for a plea deal is an insult to this court and to the Law of the Great Covenant. I move for the court to deny his plea and sentence him with the full weight of the Law.”

“Your Honor, I rest my case.”

“Anything to add, Mr. Fulke?” Ash asked one final time.

Fulke could not speak. His eyes rolled upward, foam forming at the corners of his mouth.

Ash glanced down at his glowing book.
“Brandt Fulke,” he began, voice cold as steel.
“You have stood before this court accused of crimes against the people of Elmsmere, and the evidence leaves no doubt of your guilt.
You were entrusted with authority — yet you used it to extort, to harm, and to exploit those under your protection for personal gain.
In the eyes of the Great Covenant, you are no longer an officer of law, but its violator.
The court finds your plea unacceptable. Your actions were deliberate, your remorse false, your corruption proven.
As presiding judge under the authority of the Great Covenant, I now proceed to deliver your verdict and sentence.”

“For aiding and abetting extortion, unlawful tax collection, and unlawful seizure of property, the court finds Brandt Fulke guilty of all charges.”

Cheers burst from the crowd as the verdict was read.

“Order!”

The villagers quieted again.

“The sentence is…” Ash paused. The crowd held its breath.
“…the dismemberment of the right arm. Sentence to be carried out immediately.”

One Iron Marshal lifted Fulke’s limp body upright. Another seized his arm, one gauntleted hand gripping the armpit, the other locking around the elbow— and began to pull.

Fulke screamed in agony as his arm dislocated. Then, with a brutal twist and one immense wrenching motion, his arm was torn clean from his body.

The Marshal dropped him to the ground. Blood gushed like water from a shattered pipe. Fulke convulsed on the ground, thrashing like a fish gasping for air.

The villagers recoiled in horror; some fainted. Children were shielded from the sight. Ellie pressed herself into her grandfather’s chest, trembling.

Reginald and Oswin stood frozen in terror.
If this was the punishment for Fulke — merely a subordinate — then what awaited them would be beyond imagining. The air around them felt colder, heavier. Their knees weakened. They could feel the shadow of judgment creeping closer, as if death itself waited behind Ash’s calm voice.

The Iron Marshal restrained Fulke’s spasming body, casting a minor healing spell — just enough to keep him alive.

“Yeergh—” Tyrone grimaced slightly, but said nothing.
Ash and Miki simply watched, their stares as cold as the law itself.

“For threats and coercion of villagers, conspiracy to commit abduction, obstruction of justice, and complicity in abuse of authority,” Ash continued, voice level and unflinching,
“the court finds Brandt Fulke guilty on all charges.”

The crowd gasped again, bracing for what might follow.

“Sentence: ten lashes every sunrise, for five days. Execution to begin tomorrow at the village square.”

“Marshals — take him away,” Ash ordered.

The Iron Marshals dragged the limp man out. His blood trailed across the dirt.

“Next case.”