The east granary had been ransacked at dawn. Crates lay overturned, pale grain scattered across the earthen floor, the morning light catching the drifting dust. Fresh footprints streaked toward the eastern alley, hurried and uneven. Navir and Sorvan had been nearby, repairing the water channels while the sun was still low, their hands wet with mud. They had seen the real culprits, a group of youths, dart across the rooftops, their muffled laughter echoing as they vanished between houses. By the time the alarm was raised, the thieves were gone.
Yet the blame fell squarely on Navir and Sorvan. Even though they had identified the fleeing youths moments before they disappeared, the Elders railroaded the innocent brothers instead: they used proximity to the crime scene and the absence of witnesses to confirm their claims became "unquestionable proof" of guilt. With Arisha away at the outer farms, no guardian stood between them and the council's judgment.
The charges were delivered quickly, each phrase sharp with deliberate unfairness. Elder Thamir's voice rang across the chamber. "Do you deny being at the scene, Navir?"
Navir's fists tightened, his lashes lowering over furrowed brows, red eyes burning with restrained frustration. "No! It wasn't us, the real thieves, they got away."
Elder Varyk leaned forward, spectacles catching the sunlight. "Your words lack witnesses. Tradition renders unsupported claims void. You know this."
"We do!" Sorvan insisted, voice steady but trembling at the edges. "They escaped, slipping over the roofs before anyone arrived!"
Thamir's gnarled hand struck the table. "Do you imply the Elders are lying?"
Navir's breath hitched. His scarred forearm twitched as he tried again. "They fled through the eastern alley!"
Elder Varyk shook his head slowly. "You bring the council gossip instead of proof."
The hall felt smaller with each accusation, sunlight filtering through carved shutters, drawing long bars of light across the brothers' tense faces. Navir swallowed hard as the weight of tradition bore down on them.
Sorvan's jaw clenched, a storm simmering beneath his once-calm expression. The council leaned in, ready to seal their fate.
Then the chamber doors slammed open with a thunderous crack.
Morning wind rushed in, carrying the scent of the courtyard and stirring the parchment on the tables.
Arisha strode inside like a gathering storm. Her crescent-horn earrings blazed in the sunlight, and her red eyes swept across the Elders with cold fury. "Who dares accuse my sons?" she demanded, her voice slicing through the chamber like a blade.
Every Elder stiffened. Navir and Sorvan froze, breath caught in their throats, the trap that had seemed unbreakable now shattered beneath their mother's wrath.
Arisha stepped into the judgment hall like a storm wrapped in carved iron. Her crescent-horn kewa earrings caught the sunlight, dark red ochre tips burning with a rank far above anything the chamber had seen in years. The Elders' own kewa, faint with light ochre, seemed to pale beside hers.
Before any of them could twist the proceedings further, Arisha lifted her chin. "By right of birth, I invoke the Bronze Lines. And by descent from Imperial Elder Guyi, my grandfather, you shall not pass judgment without challenge."
A ripple of unease passed through the council. Imperial Elder Guyi's authority, even retired, eclipsed the entire local chamber.
Elder Thamir clicked his tongue. "Rank or lineage cannot wash away guilt. The First Tongue–Last Tongue has been spoken. You may not overrule it."
Arisha's smile was thin, precise. "Incorrect. Argathe Law, Stone Ledger Seventy-Three: Only one bearing four Spirit Anklet Beads and direct descent from a Grand Elder may override the First Tongue–Last Tongue decree."
"And you possess these spirit beads?" Elder Varyk said in disbelief.
She lifted the hem of her robe just enough to reveal the faint clink of five beads against her ankle. "You would know this, Varyk… if you still remembered the laws you pretend to guard."
Gasps scattered through the hall.
Elder Varyk gave a curt nod. His warrior son surged forward, Kava blade drawn in reckless loyalty. But Arisha moved like water through stone, one step, one twist, and the blade reversed, its edge resting at the young man's own throat.
Silence.
"You forget your place, Arisha," Elder Thamir growled.
Arisha tilted the blade a hair's breadth. Her voice dropped to ice.
"Try me."
Then, with a single, decisive motion, she flung the Kava blade across the chamber. It spun once, twice, before striking the wooden wall behind the council, embedding itself with a deep, resonant thud.
Shock rippled through the Elders. The wall trembled. No one dared to breathe.
Evening shadows stretched long across the courtyard when Ravash quietly ushered Kavresh into the small storeroom where Navir waited. The air smelled faintly of grain and clay ink. Kavresh offered no greeting, just a measured glance before speaking.
"Strange timing today," he muttered, brushing dust from his sleeves. Reaching into his cross bag, he added, "Baasit Arlen… he left for Othmir two days before the scholarship results were announced. The records confirm it." He concluded, handing over the files for Navir to review.
Navir skimmed the papers, eyes narrowing as he traced the entries. "Two days… before the announcement?"
Kavresh nodded slowly, letting the implication settle like a stone in water. "A convenient departure… especially for someone who insisted he 'had a feeling' about this year's picks." His tone was light, almost casual, but the weight beneath it was unmistakable.
"Baasit… he knew something." Navir murmured to himself
Through the window, Navir noticed Mehrak and Nayira outside, having a good time under a tree shade in the late afternoon sun. Their anklets jingled softly with each careful step, laughter spilling into the quiet evening.
Navir's gaze lingered on them, and for a moment he felt the fragility of t
heir happiness, how easily it could shatter, yet how precious it remained.