The town square of Rivermarch was silent—**too** silent. The torches crackled, but no one spoke. The cold wind that cut through the crowd didn’t stir a soul. Even the guards at the perimeter stood still, their weapons held with the stiffness of reverent tension. All eyes were on the raised wooden platform at the center of the square, where justice was moments from being served. **Maximus**, Rivermarch’s iron Warden, stood tall at its center—his expression unreadable, but his presence undeniable. Cloaked in firelight and shadow, his voice rang out with the weight of unflinching judgment. > “**Tartuccio,** you stand before the people of Rivermarch not as a victim of misfortune, but as the architect of our darkest hour.” The automaton’s glowing eyes swept across the crowd—settlers, soldiers, councilors, and volunteers—before resting on the figure bound and kneeling before him. Tartuccio, the gnome once welcomed into their ranks, looked up with eyes still brimming with disdain. His clothes were torn and soot-stained, the remnants of a man who once fancied himself indispensable. Maximus continued, voice like a blade: > “You attempted to assassinate a council member. > You sowed fire in the heart of this settlement. > You betrayed every hand that fed you—every oath, every trust. > Your actions cost us lives. You poisoned the ground we build upon.” He turned to the gathered citizens now, his words rising like a vow. > “We do not rule by fear. > We rule by **law**. > And by law, you will answer.” The crowd remained frozen. Then—**Tartuccio moved**. A flick of the fingers. A whisper. A shimmer at the edges of his form. **Somatic and verbal components.** **Aklo on his lips.** **He was casting.** **Dimension Door.** “**Stop him!**” Garrek’s voice cut like a thunderclap. Maximus raised his blade, but Garrek was already in motion. The veteran scout surged across the platform with the violence of a coiled storm. As the arcane sigil completed in the air and Tartuccio’s form began to blur, Garrek drove his knee into the gnome’s side with a bone-snapping _crack_. The spell collapsed in a cascade of sparks and smoke. Tartuccio choked, coughing blood, the magic unraveling around him like broken glass. Garrek grabbed him by the collar and slammed him back down. > “**No,**” he snarled. “You don’t get to run.” Tartuccio coughed out a weak, wheezing laugh, even as blood pooled between his teeth. > “You’ll need more than farmers with sticks… when Irovetti comes.” Garrek crouched beside him. > “You waited,” he said coldly. “Waited for your master to come save you.” Tartuccio blinked, caught between confusion and pain. > “He was here. **King Irovetti.** > Uninvited. > Walked our streets. Drank our wine. Watched you rot in a footlocker.” He let that sink in. > “He didn’t raise a finger.” Tartuccio’s grin began to wither. > “You were his pawn. His little incendiary rat. And when the flame turned on him, he left you in the ashes.” Garrek stood slowly, his voice cutting deeper now as he turned toward the crowd. > “**Remember this.** > Kings like Irovetti don’t build. > They manipulate. > They whisper in the ears of cowards, use them like torches, and toss them away when the smoke gets too thick.” His eyes swept over the volunteers, the townsfolk, the wary faces. > “No banner came. > No envoy. > No mercy. > Just silence.” Garrek looked down one final time at Tartuccio. > “No rescue. > **Just judgment.**” And then Maximus stepped forward. The greatsword rose. **And with a single, precise stroke—it was done.** --- The square held its breath. The scent of smoke and blood lingered like a brand upon the night. Maximus turned to the guards. > “**Burn the body. Scatter the ashes at the edge of the wilds. Let the earth reclaim his lies.**” Garrek didn’t look away. He stared for a long moment, the fire of the torches reflected in his eyes. > “He was clever,” he said. “Too clever for his own damn good. > Thought he could skip the cost. Thought magic and ambition could replace loyalty.” He turned to the young militia—Darren, Merik, Tam. > “**You build a city with trust. With sweat. With pain.** > He thought he could cheat that. > Make sure no one else tries.” And with that, Garrek stepped off the platform and back into the cold night, the crowd parting in silence, the flames dancing behind him.