"What the fuck was that interaction?" Teddy finally burst out.
He looked around the hall, genuinely baffled, as if expecting someone, anyone to confirm that he wasn't the only one who had just witnessed something deeply unsettling.
"Seriously," he added, spreading his hands. "Am I the only one who thought that was… wrong?"
The troll turned his head slowly toward Teddy, blinking.
"Wow," he said flatly. "You're really slow, huh?"
A ripple of amusement passed through the others. A few smirked. Someone chuckled under their breath.
Teddy's face darkened. "Come on. Don't do that. I can't be the only one confused here. Can someone, anyone, explain what just happened?"
Blondie exhaled and stepped forward, his expression far more serious than the laughter around him suggested.
"That girl," he said, "possesses the hereditary unique ability of the Royal Elf Family."
The laughter died instantly.
"The Royal Court," Blondie continued. "That alone explains everything. She's royalty, or at the very least, carries royal blood. We underestimated her. Badly."
The Vice Captain smiled faintly.
"Yes," he said. "The Royal Court unique ability. Passed down through every branch of the royal elf lineage, no matter how diluted the bloodline becomes over generations."
He tapped his finger against the armrest of his chair.
"And judging by what we saw, she has only reached the initial stage. If she had awakened the later phases…" His smile thinned. "Stopping her would have required a significant price. One I'd rather not pay right now."
Teddy swallowed. "Then what is it?" he asked. "What exactly is that ability?"
The Vice Captain turned his gaze on him.
"You're remarkably uneducated for someone born into a noble family," he said calmly. "Why is that?"
Teddy stiffened but didn't answer.
The Vice Captain waved a hand dismissively. "No matter. Listen carefully. You won't hear this lesson twice."
He raised three fingers.
"There are three phases to the Royal Court ability."
He lowered the first finger.
"Phase One: Fair Court."
The second finger followed.
"Phase Two: Biased Court."
Then the third.
"Phase Three: Royal Court."
Silence pressed down on the hall.
"This ability is terrifying," the Vice Captain continued, "not because of raw power, but because of uncertainty. You never know when it activates. You never know if it already has."
He leaned forward slightly.
"And here's the truly dangerous part, even if the user has only awakened the first phase, anyone who fails within that phase can be forcibly dragged into the second… or even the third."
Teddy's eyes widened. "Dragged?"
"Yes," the Vice Captain said. "Judgment escalates. Authority compounds."
He continued, voice even.
"The ability functions on three pillars: truth, lies, and mutually known facts between both parties. Once the court is established, the user becomes the judge. Every exchange becomes testimony."
Blondie nodded slowly. "When you said the prisoners would receive a fair trial…"
"Exactly," the Vice Captain said. "That was the trigger. 'Fair trial.' The moment I said those words, the Fair Court activated."
Teddy frowned. "But nothing happened."
The Vice Captain smiled.
"That's the problem. You never know when it starts."
A pause.
"Fortunately," he added, "the one using it was an immature young girl."
Teddy scratched his head. "Then… how did we get out of it?"
The Vice Captain leaned back.
"Simple," he said. "You escape by forcing truth and lies to collapse into one another."
Teddy blinked. "That doesn't help at all."
The Vice Captain ignored him and continued.
"She asked me three questions. If I had answered all three cleanly, pure truth or pure lies, I would have been judged. Finished."
He raised a finger.
"But before she could answer my question, I reversed the balance."
Blondie's eyes narrowed. "You answered more than you were asked."
"Correct," the Vice Captain said. "I gave her one lie mixed with truth. One truth mixed with lies."
Teddy stared. "That sounds like nonsense."
"It isn't," the Vice Captain replied. "The judge can identify truth and falsehood, but not when they coexist in the same statement. That damages the judgment itself."
He paused.
"And if I had challenged her directly," the Vice Captain continued, voice calm but edged with irritation, "and she had responded with even a single lie, that is when judicial recoil would have triggered."
Blondie nodded. "The punishment for the judge when their authority is compromised."
"Exactly," the Vice Captain said. "The moment a judge lies under their own court, the authority collapses inward. The recoil doesn't strike the defendant; it strikes the one presiding."
He leaned back slightly.
"Elves in the early stages of this ability favor emotional questions," he went on. "Questions that sit between truth and known fact. They exploit sentiment. Guilt. Hope. Loss."
Teddy frowned. "Why?"
"Because known facts are traps," the Vice Captain replied. "If someone answers truthfully or falsely about a fact already established between both parties, the court recognizes it as deviation, and punishment follows."
He paused, eyes narrowing.
"When she asked, 'Are there any survivors?' it sounded emotional. Desperate. Like a daughter searching for her family."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"But it was a known fact that she herself is a survivor. That had already been established before we ever spoke."
Blondie's eyes widened slightly.
"If I had answered that question," the Vice Captain said quietly, "truth or lie, I would have placed myself under judgment."
He exhaled.
"That's why I refused to answer it at all."
Silence settled over the room.
"She wasn't asking out of weakness," he added. "She was testing whether I would step into her court."
He closed his eyes briefly.
"This ability infuriates me," the Vice Captain admitted quietly. "If she had been more experienced… if she had reached Biased Court…"
His fingers tightened on the chair.
"…this conversation would have ended very differently."
He opened his eyes.
"But she didn't."
A moment passed.
"Enough," he said, rising to his feet. "Bring in the next prisoner. Let's continue the trials."
The hall stirred back to life.
But the laughter didn't return.