Navir slowed near the stone causeway.
"Do you see them?" Ravash murmured.
Navir nodded. "I see everyone."
The Luho stood apart: ash-toned skin catching light, blue-black hair bound clean, diamond eyes calm. One smiled faintly, as if crowds were weather.
Torin leaned close. "They look relaxed."
"Move," Tarefin said, urging him forward.
The hall swallowed them. Marble echoed steps. Elders lined the walls, copper skin taut, red eyes measuring. Nobles whispered behind jeweled hands.
The hall drew them in. Polished wood creaked underfoot, every step carried by the high rafters. Carved pillars lined the walls, freshly oiled, meant to impress without warmth.
The Local Elders stood along the sides, copper skin drawn tight, red eyes weighing every movement. Nobles clustered behind them, Antari fire bands flashing as they leaned close to whisper.
"They'll make an example," someone breathed loud enough to sting.
"Of who?" Samaveh asked.
Ardavan didn't look up. His gaze stayed fixed ahead, calm, distant, as if he were already measuring outcomes no one else could see.
"Anyone venturing close enough," he said, almost mildly.
Navir's scar tingled. His crescent darkened. He felt watched, weighed.
Kavresh scanned exits. "No clear path."
Torin's mouth curved into a crooked grin. He lifted two fingers to his eyes, mimed a sharp click like a perfect shot, then flicked the same fingers toward the ceiling before casually pointing at a narrow side exit.
"We improvise," he murmured. "Just in case."
A bell rang.
Silence snapped tight.
The elders did not call his name.
Two guards were already moving, hands firm on the boy's shoulders as they brought him forward from the ranks. His conviction had been sealed earlier; this was only the consequence.
An elder spoke with measured ease. "Order preserves peace."
The boy swallowed, feet dragging against the wooden floor. "I spoke only to explain myself," he said softly. "With respect. I did not accuse, "
The guards tightened their grip.
"You defended yourself after judgment," Elder Thamir replied, almost gently.
"No, I only said I was innocent." The boy protested, struggling to free himself from their grasp.
Another voice joined in, detached. "Which suggests error."
The hall stilled.
"You implied that we were lying," the first elder continued. "That's not clarification. It's a challenge."
The boy's mouth opened, then closed.
"Authority is not revised by the convicted," the elder said. "Bring him closer."
The crowd shifted.
Ravash whispered, "Navir."
Navir's jaw set.
The boy was dragged forward, feet scraping the wooden floor, eyes searching for mercy that did not live here.
"Hold him," an elder said.
Two attendants obeyed.
The rod rose.
"Pain teaches memory," another elder recited.
The strike landed.
A gasp rippled.
"Again," Elder Thamir said.
Torin's mouth curved. "Careful. You'll run out of lessons."
A glare cut him.
The rod fell, measured, patient.
A girl sobbed.
Ravash clenched his fists. "The boy is innocent."
"Watch," Tarefin murmured.
"Record it," Elder Thamir instructed. "This day must surely go down in Argathe history." He concluded, voice hush and deep.
The boy with the spectacles wrote without hesitation, ink steady.
"Pain teaches memory," the hall echoed.
Torin grinned, disgust curling at the edges. "Then the Elders must know everything."
Another blow followed.
Torin kept his grin. A twitch followed his eyes each time the blow landed.
Navir's eyes slid to the side. A Luho watched, head tilted, expression unreadable. Their diamond eyes reflected the rod's arc without flinching.
Samaveh shook her head. "They're counting."
The rod paused.
The boy lifted his chin. "I'm innocent… I did nothing wrong," he sobbed.
The last strike fell harder.
The hall inhaled together.
Navir felt the Luho's gaze brush him like cool water.
Ash-toned skin, diamond-bright eyes, blue-black hair smooth flowing down her face.
Something in his chest tightened.
"Did you get that?" Elder Thamir asked.
His paunch was obvious as his breath heavily.
His face dripped with sweat.
His royal robes soaked.
A result of expending his energy on flogging.
"Yes Elder," Jahmir replied softly.
Jahmir bowed briefly.
He adjusted his glasses, copper skin flushing, pen moving. Charges shifted as he listened. Words changed weight. Injuries became phrases.
"That is the cost of defiance," Thamir said. "The boy was rude. Authority was challenged." His crescent horn earrings tipped with light yellow Ochre jingled as he spoke.
Jahmir lowered his gaze and amended the record.
"He is fortunate," Elder Varyk added. "In the old days, his Ehuri ancestral chain would have been stripped, and his ash mark revoked."
"Today," the elder said after a pause, "he kneels for a day, and bleeds."
The session was over.
The hall began to thin.
Navir still lingered.
He moved towards the dias of the hall.
Navir leaned against the edge of the front table.
"Still taking notes as we did back in school?"
Jahmir glanced up, a small, nervous smile tugging at his lips. "Some habits die hard, old friend."
"Even lies?" Navir asked, eyes glinting.
Jahmir hesitated for only a heartbeat.
"Especially those." He nodded in honest acknowledgement.
His cheeks flushed with embarrassment
Navir nodded toward the doors. "The foreigners. Why are they here?"
"The Luho?" Jahmir said. "For business and tourism."
Torin popped between them. "I like them already."
"They're very intuitive," Jahmir added.
"Yeah. So I heard." Torin said, folding his arms, leaning on the table close to the wall.
"That's… normal." Navir replied.
"Not really. Like…"Jahmir shook his head, shifting his glasses, trying to find the right words.
"Let's just say…" Torin cut in, rolling his eyes in a brief thoughtful observation leaning on Navir with an arm around his neck. "Paranoid is an understatement."
"Paranoid?" Navir snapped.
Turning to the Luho girl and her group briefly having a discussion with the Argathe Elders.
"You're exaggerating." He added.
"Well he's right." Jahmir said, adjusting his glasses.
Navir's eyes widened.
Speechless.
"Wow!" Surprised etched in Torin's eyes.
"You're agreeing with me… for the first time Jahmir." he said, tears in his eyes.
An elder passed. Jahmir closed his book.
Navir leaned closer. "Everything okay?"
Jahmir's voice dropped. "Nothing important. Officially."
They stepped aside.
Jahmir met Navir's eyes, red steady behind glass.
"Do you think truth survives ink?" he asked, barely louder than breath.
Navir didn't answer.
Jahmir slid a folded page into his sleeve and walked away.
Jahmir's pen moved swiftly, creating two versions of the record.
A sanitized version, detailing the boy's offense and punishment as they wished. The other was hidden, a true account of the brutality, the cracks in the facade. He folded the hidden version and slipped it into his sleeve.
His heart skipped as he looked out the window, meeting the gaze of Elder Thamir. The elder's eyes scanned the crowd, sharp and calculating.
Jahmir's pulse quickened.