‟This courtroom is now in session,” said a baritone voice.

The echo of a gavel resonated through the open, circular hall, penetrating up to even the furthest corners at the top of the tower. At once, the din of conversations and laughter stopped, leaving behind a palpable tension in the air. Hundreds of spectators in oval, boxed balconies reminiscent of an opera house lined the walls in a spiraling pattern, fading into the ceiling. Lights ran underneath them, illuminating the tower with the bright white glow. At the very top, just under the roof, were dozens of slits for windows allowing thing beams of light to shine in.

At the bottom was a circular dais surrounded by three distinct groups in their own floating, circular booths. They formed a triangular shape with each of the platforms equidistant from one another and spun slowly in tandem, revolving around the room. At one point sat the judge, an older man with gray hair and a full beard that came down to his sternum by the name of Fenris Verrill. To his left stood the prosecutor, Astasha Ronkova, a middle-aged woman with her brown hair pulled back into a tight bun and glasses sitting at the top of her nose. Finally, on Judge Verrill’s right was the defendant—Alex Sympaori—and his government appointed attorney, Janus Strachan.

Judge Verrill sat behind his raised desk in a high, throne-like chair, looking down at the two others. With a smug grin on her face the prosecutor crossed her legs in front of her and seemed rather at ease next to a pile of datapads neatly stacked. Janus, on the other hand, tapped his foot nervously, and the noise echoed in the silence. Alex—his head still pounding from the blow to the side of it the previous day—sat motionless with his hands folded in his lap.

‟Alex Wravahk Sympaori,” Judge Verrill said, letting his voice carry throughout the tower, ‟to the charge of treason in the first degree, how do you plead?”

Strachan pulled his client up, and only then did he realize just how nervous the attorney was when sweat from his palm soaked through Alex’s robe. All eyes, as well as the piercing bright light from above, were on them as they awaited the answer.

‟My client pleads not guilty, your Honor, and I would like to request that he be released on his own recognizance pending resolution of this case.”

Ronkova stood up and took her glasses off, setting them on the desk as she moved towards the end of her platform.

‟Your Honor, releasing Mister Sympaori would be a terrible mistake—he has no ties to the city, as he just arrived on Lord Orion Mattix’s cargo barge yesterday, and he has only been on the planet for a few months. There is nothing holding Mister Sympaori to the city and preventing him from leaving as soon as he is granted release. As such, the people request that he be held on a million credit bail to help ensure that he appears for future court dates.”

‟My client has hardly a credit to his name, and he has no way of getting out of the city. Lord Mattix’s barge, as the prosecution has brought up, has been restricted from leaving the city until the conclusion of this trial, so his job is effectively on hold for the time being. Holding him on a million credit bail would be needlessly burdensome and a bastardization of our justice system.”

‟We have statements from the crew describing how the defendant has made comments about wanting to leave Arcadia, and we just cannot risk him leaving to escape justice.”

‟Very well, counselors, I’ve made my decision.” The Judge shifted his entire body to look at Alex and Janus, lifting his gavel slightly in preparation. ‟The defendant will be held on a million credit bail, and if he needs help paying it, I’m sure Lord Mattix would be happy to oblige.”

The metallic echo of the gavel hitting the desk resonated throughout the tower, carrying to the top of the tower before filtering out into the city through the narrow windows. As the noise faded, the talking from the spectators filled the tower, and they made their ways out of the courtroom. The three floating booths at the bottom slowly rolled to a halt and magnetically attached to the walls to let their occupants out. Janus turned to look at Alex, a slight smile on his face.

‟Well, it could have been worse,” he said.

‟How could it possibly have been any worse?” Alex put his head in hands and took deep, steadying breaths. His fingers scraped over the scar running down the right side of his face, sending chills through his body. ‟Where am I supposed to get a million credits?”

‟We could do as the judge suggested and go to Lord Orion Mattix; I’m sure he wouldn’t mind doing lending you the money.”

‟Something tells me that he isn’t going to be as willing as everything thinks.”

As he finished the sentence, the dooring leading out of the booth slid open with a hiss, and a clanking of metal on metal approached them. The piercing blue eyes of the robotic soldier—similar, but distinctly different from the ones that captured him—briefly scanned the room before looking directly at Alex.

‟Mister Sympaori, I am to escort you to your designated holding area pending the receipt of your payment for bail. Please, come with me quickly and silently.”

The robot turned and began to walk away before either Alex or Janus could respond, leading them out of the booth and into the brightly lit hallway of the courthouse. It curved in either direction, disappearing around the sides of the tower they exited. A few people walked around them, dodging the robot after casting somewhat fearful glances in its direction. Across from them and making up the entirety of the opposite wall were glass windows stretching from floor to ceiling, allowing them a clear view of the city. The sunlight of Vortau gleamed off of the metal spires and skyscrapers and danced off the vehicles and speeders as they streaked by. Far below and looking like ants, the ground of Eredhen was filled with assortments of people moving from place to place.

They turned down a side passage leading away from the central tower, heading towards one of the smaller spires connected to the courthouse. On either side of them, and even above and below, was glass, making them appear as if floating through the air and leaving Alex somewhat disoriented and hesitant with each step. At the far end of the hall—a couple dozen meters away—was another door and two men standing outside of it talking animatedly.

One was slightly taller and older, with graying hair that featured a prominent bald spot in the middle, and a thin beard that covered his chin and cheeks. A laurel crown rested atop his ears, sticking just above the top of his head. He wore a flowing black robe with a red and white cap draped over one shoulder, and a gilded sash ran across his chest.

The other man was rather younger, his hair cropped close to his head and a thickset jaw that came to an abrupt point. His nose stuck out when viewed from the side, giving him a look not unlike a pelican. He wore a green jumpsuit decorated with an assortment of medals that showed off the muscles of his arms and chest.

As the group of robot and two men approached, the two talking outside the door ceased their conversation at once, and the younger one nodded a farewell to the other before walking past the newcomers. The older man looked them over before his eyes to a rest on Alex, studying him carefully.

‟Ah, you must be Alex Sympaori, the teenager whom I was told to arrest.” He held out his hand in welcome, shaking Alex’s firmly. The robotic guard kept moving as the others stopped a quarter of the way from the door. ‟But where are my manners? I am Governor Unix, leader of Eredhen.”

‟It’s a … pleasure … to meet you?” Alex’s voice was unsure of what to say, stopping in several places as he tried to think of the right words. ‟How did you even find out about the crash, and why was I arrested for it when it wasn’t even my fault?”

‟When the most powerful man in the galaxy says jump, you jump, not waste his time with pointless questions, son.” The governor jerked his thumb behind him, pointing towards the door where the robot was now waiting patiently but keeping an eye on Alex. ‟He’s right through there and is dying to speak with you, so I wouldn’t keep him waiting if I were you.”

The governor walked away, whistling a jaunty tune as he went and his footsteps clicking loudly in the otherwise silent hall.

‟Do you have any idea what you just did to your case, Alex?” Janus asked as the governor got out of earshot of the pair of them. He gripped Alex’s arm and roughly moved him forward, continuing towards the door. ‟You just basically confessed to the governor of Eredhen without so much as a second thought.”

‟I’m pretty sure even if he did want to use it against me, it would be considered hearsay and excluded from evidence, but I’m not a lawyer, so what do I know?”

‟That is not the point, and you know it.” Janus held up a finger to illustrate his point, almost waving it in Alex’s face as he spoke. ‟One word from the governor—just one—and you could be locked away for the rest of your life.”

‟Sounds more like a dictator than a governor to me,” Alex muttered under his breath as they reached the door, which hissed open when the robot pressed a button to the side.

Inside was a circular room with an open ceiling rising a dozen meters to the roof. Rows of bookshelves lined the walls, ascending upwards to the very top. A fireplace, with a blaze already going, sat to the right of the room—breaking up the shelves—and a desk sat to the left with a large bay window accenting it. Two plush armchairs sat in front of the wood, pulled out and slightly askew from where the last occupants left them. Atop the desk were stacks of different datapads and oddities hiding a man with piercing green eyes and brown hair slicked back and parted to one side. The man, whom Alex deep down dreaded running back into after the three long months, was Ardus Kaine.

‟Counselor Janus Strachan, your services to Alex Sympaori are no longer needed.” Ardus made a shooing gesture with his hand, as if the man were some inconvenient gnat he was trying to get to fly away. ‟Your client is no longer under trial for anything akin to treason, as I just persuaded the governor to drop the charges under the Siatian Concord, so you may go. Don’t worry, though, I will ensure that you have been paid for the time you spent on his case, as well as whatever payment you may be losing by the loss of it.”

If the attorney knew who Ardus Kaine was, he didn’t let his face show it, as his initial look of confusion was replaced with one of outrage before changing to mild inconvenience and annoyance. Janus shrugged his shoulders, gave Alex a pat on the back, then walked out of the room, followed quickly by the robot guard, who stopped just outside the door. Ardus, on the other hand, gestured to the chairs in front of him for Alex to take a seat, which he did hesitantly.

‟I’m sure you’re wondering why I had the guard bring you here, but first, let’s get this unpleasantness out of the way: You and I both know that I’m not going to keep calling you Alex Sympaori, wherever the hell you came up with that. I think it’s better for both of us that I call you by your real name: Xaleyp Vah’Aris.”

Ardus saying his real name caused a knot to form in the pot of Alex’s—or rather, Xaleyp’s—stomach. His heart started to beat faster, hammering away at his chest and threatening to expel itself. He felt his hands start to feel clammy and sweaty at his sides and resisted the urge to wipe them on his pants. How could Ardus possibly have found out who he was and where to find him? As if able to read minds, Ardus stood and answered the unasked question as he paced around the room.

‟The next time you wish to hide your identity, try to not make it an anagram of your actual name and pit it against the best computers in the galaxy.” Ardus waved a dismissive hand, as if the matter was simple child’s play and began to bore him. ‟Alex Wravahk Sympaori is not that difficult to turn back into Xaleyp Wormrak Vah’Aris, especially when you make it something so unique. I admit, though, I did think you were smarter than that, so I was skeptical when Lord Mattix sent me the message that he found the young man I was looking for. Your eyes, however, are not that common in the galaxy, though it’s a shame what happened to your face.”

Xaleyp’s face burned at the mention of the scar down his cheek and did his best to resist the urge to subconsciously touch it, though he was sure the man saw the momentary twitch of his arm. Ardus stopped in front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms across his chest and his legs at his ankles.

‟Now, let’s get down to business, shall we? I brought you here—under the false pretense of a trial, which I apologize for—to bring you back to Siatia.”