The Neutral Field Bares Its Fangs
The second bell tolled through the rotunda like a blade struck against glass. The tiers hushed, thousands of attentions folding in as if to say: the real matter begins now.
A Clerk rose, voice soft but weighty. "Next motion: enforcement architecture for the Cordon Ban."
The words sent a ripple across the rotunda. This wasn't about Aiden's survival anymore. This was about whether his principle—no collateral in the city—would become law with teeth.
Seraph Vale practically skipped down into the center ring, boots tapping with the rhythm of someone who adored the spotlight. Her grin was sharp, playful, dangerous. "I come prepared." She slapped a bundle of glowing sheets onto the lectern. "Draft proposals for penalties. Graduated, escalating, and wonderfully inconvenient."
Kai muttered, "She looks like she's about to sell us insurance."
"That's exactly what she's doing," Liora said dryly.
Porcelain tilted his head, eyes on Seraph. "Not insurance. Teeth."
Drafting the Teeth
Seraph snapped her fingers. The sheets unfurled into the air, hovering like luminous wings.
• First breach: A fine, monetary or essence-based, extracted immediately.
• Second breach: Increased levy, doubled cost, collateral seizure.
• Third breach: Suspension of authority to act within municipal bounds.
• Fourth breach: Revocation of Contender privileges in that region.
"Teeth," Seraph said, clapping her hands. "Sharp enough to break the skin. Deep enough to draw blood."
Murmurs ran the tiers. Some nodded. Others hissed. The veiled Council remained statues.
The Clerk's voice rose. "Motion noted. Counter-motions invited."
Of course, Quinn stood.
Quinn's Smile
Sable Quinn glided into the arena, mirror-eyed and immaculate. His smile was the sort that made even applause feel like it had sinned.
"How elegant," he said, voice dripping admiration. "How idealistic. But teeth must be sized to prey. The System is… not prey."
He gestured, and the air shimmered with his counterproposal.
• First breach: Warning notice.
• Second breach: Negotiated settlement with Contender oversight.
• Third breach: Penalties paid in service, not essence.
• Fourth breach: Case-by-case discretion, adjudicated by Council review.
"See?" Quinn's smile widened. "Our enforcement should not punish growth. It should incentivize compliance. Too many teeth, and the prey flees. Too few, and it lingers. Balance, dear Contender, is always in the mouth of the one who bites."
The rotunda chuckled uneasily. Some Contenders nodded. Some sneered. The veils did not move, but the sense of attention pressed harder.
The Debate
Seraph leaned against the lectern, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "Warnings are not teeth, Quinn. They're gums. If the System thinks it can nibble before it gnaws, it'll take the city in hours."
"Perhaps," Quinn said smoothly, "but your penalties risk provoking war. A ban without compromise becomes rebellion. And the Council does not permit rebellion."
The veils shifted faintly, like shadows leaning forward.
Kai stepped up, fists clenched. "So we're supposed to let them walk in, chew up whoever they want, and just… fine them like a parking ticket?"
"Correct," Quinn said pleasantly. "Because parking tickets fund cities. War erases them."
Liora's voice cut clean. "You craft mercy into a leash. His ban is a wall. One protects the debtor. The other protects the balance. Choose carefully."
Porcelain's voice was low, sharp as ink drying. "Balance is never protection. It is profit."
The tiers hissed. The rotunda smelled of ozone, excitement building.
Aiden's Stand
Aiden stepped forward, cloak rising around him like smoke. His wrist pulsed. The words of his Oath burned faintly in the air: No ruling shall cost the innocent their dawn.
"The city doesn't need warnings," he said, voice hoarse but steady. "It doesn't need settlements. It needs teeth. Because the innocent don't survive compromises—they survive walls. Every breach must hurt. Every attempt must bleed."
The Clerk's gaze turned to Quinn. "Response?"
Quinn's mirror-eyes reflected Aiden back at himself. "And who, dear Contender, pays when teeth bite too deep? Who counts when penalties overreach? Innocents suffer just as much from zeal as from debt."
The tiers roared—half in agreement, half in rage. The Field loved this. Conflict was its coin.
The Price
The Clerk lifted a pale hand. "The Field will hear test of models."
The arena warped. Proposals became reality.
First: Seraph's model. A Collector breached a stall. Instantly, fines carved into its parchment body; its seals ripped away. It shrieked and fell apart in one move. Effective. Brutal. The stall remained untouched. The crowd applauded.
Second: Quinn's model. Another breach. A warning glyph floated above the stall. The Collector paused, adjusted course, and slashed again. Another glyph. Another pause. By the third strike, the vendor was already half ash. The glyph simply recorded it.
The rotunda hissed. Anger. Unease. Debate.
The Clerk's voice cut clean: "Models presented. Convention to decide."
The tiers began to light, votes cast as flares.
The Twist
For a moment, it looked like Seraph and Aiden's harsher teeth would win. Flares rose, glow after glow. The tiers buzzed with agreement.
Then Quinn's voice sliced through. "One amendment," he said, smile sharper. "Teeth may be set—but who enforces them? You? Your brother? Your allies? Or the Council itself?"
The veils trembled, attention hardening like frost.
The tiers paused. Votes hesitated. The question wasn't about penalties anymore—it was about ownership of enforcement.
If the Council enforced, the teeth would be blunted, useless. If Aiden enforced, he'd be marked for war.
The flares shifted. Quinn had turned the tide with one clause.
The Verdict
The Clerk lifted their hand. "Motion carried—Cordon Ban enforcement established. Penalties to be scaled. Enforcement architecture: Council oversight with Contender participation."
The rotunda erupted. Applause. Shouts. Laughter. Fury.
Seraph slammed the lectern hard enough to crack it. "You bastard—"
"Correction," Quinn said smoothly. "Adjunct."
Kai cursed loud enough the Field recorded it.
Liora closed her eyes, blade humming faintly. "We won the ban. We lost the teeth."
Porcelain's voice was quiet. "Not lost. Priced."
Aiden clenched his fists, the brand on his wrist glowing hotter. His Oath pulsed faintly, not broken but strained. No ruling shall cost the innocent their dawn.
The dawn was safer now—but under Council teeth, not his.
Closing Scene
The Clerk's voice fell like a decree. "Matter closed. Next motion: selection of Contender agencies."
The tiers roared on. The Field hungered for the next bite.
Quinn bowed slightly, mirror-eyes gleaming. "Teeth, dear Contender, always belong to those who smile widest."
Aiden didn't smile. He bled determination into the air and whispered so only his cloak heard:
"Then I'll break their teeth too."
The cloak hissed in agreement.
And above, the Council's veils shimmered—amused, patient, already sharpening the next clause.