The Arbiter

The Arbiter, seated in the enormous living-wood throne that dominated the entire front wall of the room, cleared her throat as her gaze shifted unblinkingly from the accused to his accuser. "If there is no further evidence to be presented to this court, then I will pass judgement. Have either of you anything to add?"

She paused, awaiting a response from either side of the aisle, but when none came, she simply nodded and raised her gavel.

"This was a routine down-tier murder case, no matter how high-profile it may have become." She inclined her head toward the reporters in the rear pews. "Know also that its recent popularity had no bearing upon my judgement. As the ultimate adjudicator of justice in the realm, it often falls to me to deliver the verdicts that most need proper, unclouded oversight. Clearly this was one such instance. It is not every day an assassin Class is formally charged with murder, let alone for striking down-tier."

From the high seat on her livingwood throne, the fairy goddess extended an arm toward the avian man seated at the smaller bench below and to her right. "Good sir prosecutor, as a note for your future improvement, you spent too much time listing the myriad crimes and prior killings of the accused, when they simply had no relevance to his current accusation. Establishing character might be all well and good for the mortal authorities, but I require a higher bar of evidence and proof. As one who has seen what it takes to rise beyond the tiers, my perspective is necessarily different, and such killings as you've described do little more than define the accused's Path, which of course has no sway in these proceedings until it is demonstrably proven relevant. That burden of proof remains as yet unfulfilled."

There was a hushed murmuring in the rear of the room that a quick upward flitter of The Arbiter's wings immediately silenced.

She then turned her attention to the accused, the cleanshaven gnomish man with pitch black hair. "To you, defendant, I will say that you were wise to heed the good counsel you received at the trial's onset. Limiting your outburst to that one time may well have saved your skin, as after another such incident I would have ended these proceedings and returned your case to the mortal authorities, to judge with all their limited fairness. By keeping your tongue still, except when directly questioned, you showed proper restraint and respect for the full weight of the law that very well might still press down upon you."

That definitely caused the shifting and straightening of more attendees within their seats. Such was to be expected, though. At least they maintained their silence otherwise.

"It well may be that the slain individual, this tier 2 farmer named Redshirt, was a 'good' and 'upstanding' citizen. There has been much testimony to that extent. But as justice is amoral, no amount of 'goodness' or its opposite will compel it to try harder to place blame for his death, nor should we strain our imaginations to make connections that are tenuous or circumstantial at best. I will remind those present that all people deserve justice, from the noblest saint to the vilest miscreant... just as all people deserve fairness. I will not punish someone whose guilt has not been proven beyond doubt. We do not deal in speculation here. We deal in facts and facts alone. To that end, there simply has not been sufficient evidence that this defendant was the one that slew the deceased--even if he was seen attacking him. That assault, by all accounts, was not lethal--and shall still be punished, as all down-tier attacks must be."

She paused to let the fullness of her intent sink in on all within her presence. Around the cavernous assembly hall, onlookers, lawyers, and petitioners all sank into their pews as her authority washed over them. She hadn't even needed to use her gavel, [Resolution].

"With that being said, no witnesses have yet verified within an Oath that they saw the defendant in the farmer's presence again afterward. None whatsoever. So either this man is innocent, or he was skilled enough in his task to have completely avoided detection. Both are laudable in their own way."

She raised her gavel hand, preemptively silencing any that might consider doing more than merely intaking their breath sharply. She was The Arbiter, and she would brook no interruptions.

"Therefore, I find the accused, the gnome assassin called Hardly Seen, Not Guilty of the murder of the late Farnold Redshirt. Regarding the assault, that has been proven, and as such he shall now be taken into custody by the Tier Guards." Here she focused her intent very carefully on the four members of the Guards present. "He shall not be treated unfairly, nor shall he know a single degree more punishment than befits a downward assault of a single-tier."

The transformative, physical understanding that seized all four Tier Guards, displayed in their stiffening and the clicking together of their heels before bowing down low, proved their acceptance. The Arbiter was certain she would not need to send servants later to inquire as to whether they had complied. Though she still would, as some Paths had skills that made others resistant even to her divine domain.

"Court is adjourned," she finished, slamming her gavel down. "I shall begin hearing the next case in thirty minutes."

Then the expected pandemonium broke out. Cries of elation and disbelief all mixed together. Proclamations and certainties were bandied about by people who'd had no bearing or hardly any perspective on the case. Questions were always asked that, had the inquisitive ones been listening carefully, would have already been answered, potentially multiple times over. But such was the way with mortals, The Arbiter knew. She gave them these moments of mortality, as trying to restrict them entirely would have been a cruelty that was just as wrong as asking them to stop breathing.

In these brief interludes between her true purpose, The Arbiter sought within herself for any sliver of weakness in her logic, in her questioning of witnesses, or in the delivery of her verdict. Anything that could be considered a misstep, no matter how minor, or a misapplication of justice. Critical self-reflection was as important to her as food had once been: it nurtured her, giving her the strength and certainty required to continue on.

But in this moment of elucidation, someone dared approach and interrupt her.

Anger flared within her. The rules were clear: the mortals were allowed the freedom to be themselves, and The Arbiter was to be left entirely alone.

The fairy goddess's eyes flicked upward, filled with such animosity, that most anyone else might have died on the spot.

The Conquest was not just anyone.

On this day, he stood almost as tall as the courtroom itself, wearing one of his finest uniforms, which was ultimately (and predictably) covered in medals and trophies of his victories. His perfectly-maintained goatee was as sharp as any of the various swords, daggers, or spears currently hanging from his hips, chest, and back. That there had been no outcry yet told The Arbiter that his presence was still masked from most of those present in the chamber.

She considered first what repercussions should be for his breaking protocol, then the likelihood of his wasting her time, and finally the future annoyances he would likely attempt should she not hear him out now. Not worth the risk, she decided.

Stilling her annoyance and maintaining her mask of absolute calm, The Arbiter addressed the other god directly, allowing no others to hear. "You are imposing unsought upon my hospitality. Speak, The Conquest, and quickly."

The Conquest bowed impressively deep and smiled. "Certainly, your honor, greatest of all judges. I do not mean to be rude or to intrude, but I did not yet wish to start the stir that shall soon begin. I believe, if you check your docket, that you will find that I am actually next to be heard by you--though I must apologize again for having used my mortal name when registering--"

"I know." The Arbiter exhaled with exquisite control as she repeated with a rotation of her wrist, "Quickly."

"I only sought to keep a modicum of anonymity."

The Arbiter blinked slowly, nonplussed.

"And now I seek but a few words before we begin, officially, that we might save all of us a few minutes of unsightly explanation."

The Arbiter's fingers tapped the edge of her gavel, a signal that the other god clearly did not miss. It wasn't precisely a threat, for The Arbiter did not make threats. But her domain was unimpeachable, and she could work it upon any who she found wanting.

So it was no surprise when The Conquest, with a perfectly practiced smile upon his face, launched at last into the hurried, but extremely polite, explanation The Arbiter had been seeking.

"I once again must beg your indulgence, for I have brought before your eminence today a mortal lawyer who has publicly impugned my honor and name! As you know, my Path cannot back down from such challenges, and due to certain restrictions, I must thereby confront--and defeat--him in court, which is his arena of greatest strength."

This time The Arbiter did let some of her annoyance show. "You are asking me to judge this? How did you manage to get this within my docket? It sounds like some petty squabble, hardly worth my time."

"And yet, your grace, most enlightened adjudicator, I wish to remind you that once, long, long ago, before you held quite as much authority as you now wield, I did you a certain favor, and in all the time since, I have not come to call or request any sort of return on said favor."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"It was not a favor, nor would I imagine that you would dare attempt to swear that it was one under Oath."

The Conquest's smile widened, and a nervous-sounding laugh escaped his lips. "I had not thought that necessary. Besides, while I know you are busy, I also recall how much you would prefer to have all markers balanced. I have come to request a solution that might provide just such a balance, if you merely--"

"Your next words had best not suggest impropriety."

"Never, The Arbiter. Never, I swear. In fact, I was merely here to seek your honest judgement, as any other, far-more-humble person might. I ask not that you judge in my favor, merely that you judge us at all, as only then will I be assured the outcome will be fair."

The Arbiter paused at that. His trickery aside, as she did not like having her docket manipulated, she did see the simplicity in his request. He was asking nothing more of her than any other petitioner might, assuming he spoke truly. If he did not, then that would soon enough be revealed, and he would be suitably punished for it.

"This is still likely to be an utter waste of my time, isn't it?" she asked aloud, which caused the other god to have at least enough sense to show a little chagrin. "Know that if such is the case, then I will not consider the scales balanced at all. I will consider that you owe me."

To that, The Conquest straightened and, for the first time to her reckoning that day, gave her a true smile. It was the genuine smile of the predator he was, at last having sighted the prey of his hunt coming within range. "And I will consider it to be entirely worth it," he admitted.

The Arbiter narrowed her eyes. "What precisely did this mortal allegedly do to cause such offense that you are bringing him before me?"

The syrupy sweet smile returned to The Conquest's lips. "Would not this be better heard in our opening statement?"

"Do you presume that I will hear this case without a better understanding of what is actually to come before me? It is not everyday a god sues a mortal, The Conquest. You know this well. I will not have you attempting to turn my domain into a mockery, even if you are attempting to make it another of your battlegrounds."

"That is fair, The Arbiter, and I apologize for my assumption. Please forgive me."

The Arbiter nodded and motioned with her hand that he should continue.

"It was brought to my attention that he has boasted on multiple occasions that he could defeat anyone--even me--in any case. I once overheard him say it with my own ears. And as the best there is at any competition, I found such a statement offensive. He cannot beat me!"

He is such a petty god, The Arbiter thought, but I understand him. "Very well," she said, "I shall hear this out--"

"YES!"

"--Under three conditions. You must agree to them all."

Even directed as it had been solely at The Conquest, she had pushed her entire presence at the god, and it shook the courtroom. She had no doubt that many, if not most, of the mortals present would have just shivered in vague existential fear. However, she also knew that The Conquest was a creature of whimsy, and without her presence, he might still not have heard what she was about to say. He was already beginning to move into what he saw as the eventualities of his own victory. The Arbiter needed to shock him back into proper submission.

"I eagerly accept, your honor."

"We shall see. Firstly, I will oversee and judge this attempted 'conquest' only if it is to remain utterly fair. You shall neither make any further attempts to curry my favor, nor shall you lean inappropriately upon your divinity, except when it is actually applicable."

The Conquest clearly considered this, but only briefly, as he said, "Of course, your honor."

"Secondly, my verdict will be final. There will be no appeals. Whatever I rule, you will not pursue a different outcome, or this man, any further, either through yourself, through agents, or through any other means."

The tall god pursed his lips. "That is--"

"My second condition," The Arbiter reminded him. "You must commit to all three, or your conquest will be over before it has even begun, and you will have wasted an unforgettable amount of both our times."

"Yes, I understand," The Conquest said, eyes narrowing. "I suppose it shall have to be so. And what is condition three?"

The Arbiter paused long enough to allow one of her own true smiles to grace her already-exquisite and delicate fairy features. She had been widely regarded as a stunning beauty before people knew to fear her properly.

"Finally, as we have already mentioned that this will be a waste of my time, so your repayment will be a waste of yours. For my hearing of this frivolous, childish case, you will come and judge this decade's Tier 3 Tournament in Camille to the absolute best of your abilities."

The god before her raised his eyebrows. "That... actually doesn't sound half bad. Is it still the same sort of tournament it was a hundred years ago?"

The Arbiter nodded. "Indeed. In order to uphold its integrity and to continue its tradition of excellence, I have sought to keep it as free from change as possible. There have been only four minor rules clarifications these last three centuries, in fact."

"So, if you still maintain three judges, who will the other be that adds their insight and perspective to ours?"

"A newcomer, actually, called The Ever-Scarred. He sought me out within days of his own Ascension and made an impassioned plea as to why I should consider him for a seat upon the judging panel. After two centuries of thorough deliberation and observation, I have finally decided to let him."

"He truly sought you out?"

"Such things have been known to happen," The Arbiter said, lifting an eyebrow, hoping that the irony was not lost on the other god.

"And what price did you extract from him for the honor of his service?"

The Arbiter raised a small hand, having seen what appeared to be the start of a competition creeping into the other god's eyes, "Our terms are private and will remain such, so I shall not discuss them in any part with you. Besides, our terms have also already been negotiated and are no longer subject to change--unless you wish to entirely withdraw your case from my consideration."

"I do not," The Conquest admitted, sighing. "Honestly, this all seems suspiciously agreeable to me."

"I am wondering whether I should be offended that you thought it might not be. I am not made of the same stuff as The Embrace or The Sovereign. I am fae. I take great pride in my reputation, of which my rulings and my domain are critical parts. They may be cutting, but they are never unfair."

"Too true, your honor. I apologize for any slight you may have taken from my hasty words. Your absolute fairness is why I came to you in the first place," the god said, bowing and then rising to his full height once again, with his head nearly brushing the ceiling. "Thank you, The Arbiter. I look forward to your adjudication."

The Arbiter held up her gavel. "Of course you do, The Conquest." She smiled sweetly once again. "You have no consideration at all for the fact that you might lose. Still, if we are of accord--?"

"We are," the god agreed.

"Then let it be so." She inhaled, ever so lightly lifted her gavel, and gently touched it to the desk before her.

"By my authority, you will abide by the terms agreed upon today, and I shall try your case."

The ripples of her power then streaked toward the other god and wrapped themselves around him, tightening and tightening until they squeezed into his very being, undispellable and eternal. The Conquest, to his credit, only cried out once, and briefly, at the very final moment, where her domain utterly suffused him.

She knew the entire courtroom would have felt what had just happened, though only the most well-informed would likely be able to guess at its cause. That hardly mattered to her any longer, though, as her [Clock] skill quietly chimed.

Her respite was at an end. It was time for the next case.

As routine dictated, the clerk announced, "All rise!"

Such was the expectation at the beginning of any hearing, and in fact whenever the goddess made her eternal presence known, even within her own throneroom. The Arbiter flitted her delicate-seeming wings faster, and as the fairy glamour upon them would attract every eye in the chamber, they also carried her upward enough for all present to physically see her diminutive frame.

The clerk continued, "You are now in the presence of The Arbiter, the supreme judge among gods and mortals."

Tradition older than even The Arbiter could recall dictated that she stay aloft there briefly, thus allowing all present to bear witness to her. Only then did she float back to the center of the enormous living-wood throne that dominated the entire front wall of the room and settle into it.

Yet in this instance, she did not alight upon her usual resting place. Knowing that The Conquest's very presence on this day would bring drama into her court--as might any god's appearance--The Arbiter decided to forego the typical procedure in order to curtail the surprise and maintain order.

She would maintain order in her courtroom. She would allow nothing less.

With her famous imperturbability on clear display, she silently lowered her hands, indicating that all present should also be seated. Only after the last among them was down did she speak.

"The case to be presented next is one that I believe experts and historians will cite and study for many years, perhaps even centuries, to come. However, precedent is not something I shy away from, and in this I want to give my personal assurances that I shall have no bias or show any impartiality toward either side in these proceedings."

She paused then, briefly, for effect. She was fae, after all, and had been born knowing how to be dramatic and manipulate a crowd when the need arose.

She made a show of lowering her gavel and setting it across her chest. "The one called The Conquest shall now make their presence known to all."

She did not even bother to look in the direction of The Conquest as he unmasked his presence. Instead, she gazed out upon the myriad mortals assembled before her, and by their reactions she could see that she had gauged correctly his impact--and properly diminished it with her own shows of permission and authority.

While this would be an interesting case, and she would give it her fullest attention and fairest judgement, she already suspected that it would not be any sort of test for her wisdom. Her verdict would likely never be in doubt. Her Path would not sing out at its conclusion.

But that was acceptable, for in taking it on, she had made an advantageous trade. Already in the back of her mind was the song of triumph. She knew that the final uncertainty of her absolute favorite event had at last been resolved: she had secured the perfect final judge for the Camille Tournament.

With her decade-long checklist complete, she would now, at last, allow herself to look at the list of entrants. Even if they were not to be finalized for many months, now that there was no chance of even the slightest show of favoritism, she could begin to study and draw briefs on this decade's glory-seekers.

As the beginnings of the list began to populate in the quest notification before her, she thought with a smile, May they all rise to the challenge.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.