"The Bureau is waiting for your testimony," the Adjudicator of Procedure repeated, her voice flat and cold.
The words landed like a gavel strike. All eyes—the team's, the other Adjudicators', and FaeLina's—locked on Gilda. She stood in silence, feeling their collective gaze press down on her like a physical weight. They expected a plea, an argument, some kind of defense. But, she had none.
Gilda was a woman of sieges, scars, and steel—not speeches. And now, her only weapon… was to talk.
She inhaled slowly, her shoulders squaring with the same grim resolve she brought to the battlefield.
'Right', she thought. 'Time to talk about axes'.
With that final thought, she moved. Her boots echoed faintly as she walked into the center of the vast, circular chamber. The soft scuff of leather on polished stone was the only sound in the quiet room. She stopped, planted her feet, and unslung her weapon.
The massive, double-bladed axe gleamed dully in the courtroom's cold light. She held it in both hands, not as a threat, but as a demonstration, like a craftsman presenting her finest tool to an indifferent jury.
The display earned a single, unimpressed eyebrow from the Adjudicator of Law, Valerius. "Warrior," the Adjudicator of Law intoned, his voice the dry rustle of ancient parchment. "You were called to testify on the matter of violated bylaws. Your weapon is not required here."
"It is," Gilda grunted, her voice a low rumble that filled the heavy silence. She shifted the axe into both hands, her thumb running along the flat of the blade with surprising care.
"This is Great-axe Number Four," she stated. "Dwarven make. Forged at Blackrock Mountain. The balance…" She tilted it slightly, her expression almost reverent. "…is very good."
Her words hung in the air and a profound, confused silence fell over the courtroom. On the dais, the Adjudicator of Procedure, Scribonia, looked up from her clipboard for the first time, a flicker of pure, analytical confusion on her face.
The sheer, unexpected weirdness of the moment was too much for Pip. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a nervous giggle. Beside him, FaeLina's wings buzzed with a frantic, silent energy.
'It's working', she thought, her terror momentarily replaced by a kind of horrified glee. 'She's actually doing it. The absolute madwoman is actually—'
Her thought was cut short by Valerius's voice. His expression had not changed, and his tone was as dry as old parchment. "Your axe's origins are not pertinent to this hearing."
"They are," Gilda insisted, her tone just as flat and final. "To understand my actions, you must first understand my tools. The haft is ash wood, mountain-grown. Sturdy. Good grip. It's important to treat the wood with linseed oil twice a year, but never in high humidity, or the grain can swell."
Her words, full of practical, but boring truth, seemed to have an unexpected effect. Scribonia, the Adjudicator of Procedure, made a small, almost invisible motion. A new, blank page shimmered into existence on her clipboard, and a quill of pure, white light appeared in her hand. She began to take notes, a deep frown of concentration on her face.
Gilda, seeing she now had the full, baffled attention of at least one Adjudicator, continued her lecture with the same flat, serious tone. "The edge," she went on, holding the axe up to the light, "is a folded steel alloy. Three hundred and twelve layers. I sharpen it twice a day. Once before morning rations, once before evening watch. A dull axe is a danger to its wielder."
She then began what could only be described as a masterclass lecture on the proper maintenance of a dwarven greataxe. She spoke of honing oils, the correct forty-five-degree angle for a whetstone, and and the important difference between a coarse stone for fixing nicks and a fine river stone for getting a perfect edge.
"Take a fine river stone, for example," she explained, her gaze distant, as if picturing a clumsy apprentice. "Its job is to make the edge perfect. If you press too hard, you fold the metal, just a little. It creates a rough spot. A burr. You won't see it, but you'll feel it on your thumb. And in a swing, it'll catch the air. Just enough to make you a fraction of a second too slow. That's how a fight is lost."
The Adjudicator of Law just stared, his logical mind struggling to find a single point of relevance in her speech. Sir Crumplebuns, however, was nodding along from his perch on Gilda's pack, looking like he was learning a profound, heroic truth from Gilda's speech.
Gilda then flipped the axe around, pointing to the heavy, metal cap at the very end of the wooden handle.
"This part here," she said, tapping the simple, unadorned iron. "Most people think the weight is just for balance. They're wrong. Its real job is to be a hammer for tent stakes. You use the flat part," she demonstrated, "never the blade. That way, you save your edge for things that actually need cutting."
The Adjudicator of Law's eye twitched with a flicker of impatience. "Warrior, the subject of tent stakes is—"
"The leather grip must be wrapped tight," Gilda said, her voice a fraction louder, talking right over him as if he were a mild breeze. "Prevents blisters. A warrior with blisters can't hold their shield properly."
Pip watched, a look of dawning, professional respect on his face. He had spent his life surrounded by tools. He recognized a true expert when he saw one.
Zazu, beside him, was equally fascinated, though for different reasons. This wasn't just a warrior talking about a weapon; this was a scholar of a different kind, sharing a deep and profound knowledge.
Gilda's lecture continued, spiraling into ever more specific and technical detail. She discussed the subtle signs of metal fatigue near the axe head and the philosophical importance of naming one's weapon. ("Greataxe Number Four" was, as she explained, was a temporary name until it had proven itself worthy.)
The Adjudicator of Law, Valerius, looked completely lost, his logical mind unable to find a single rule that applied to any of this. Scribonia was still furiously scribbling notes, a manic gleam in her eyes, as if she had just discovered an entire new field of procedural study.
But the Adjudicator of Heart, Lyra, was not taking any notes. She was just looking at Gilda. And for the first time, the deep sadness in her eyes was somehow replaced by a flicker of something else. It wasn't pity. It was a quiet, deep, and slightly unnerving understanding. She saw not just a warrior, but the love and respect a craftsman has for their tools..
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of the most boring and strangely captivating testimony the Fairy Realm had ever witnessed, Gilda fell silent. She hefted the axe one last time, the movement as natural and familiar to her as breathing.
"A good tool requires respect," she concluded, her voice a simple, powerful statement of her own personal code. "You do not use it carelessly. You do not swing it without purpose. And you do not sign a form with it."
She looked up, meeting the gaze of the Adjudicator of Law directly.
"I did not have my axe," she said, her voice a simple statement of fact. "So I used what I had."
And with that, her testimony was complete. She turned, walked back to her team, and took her place, leaving the three most powerful judges in the Fairy Realm in a state of stunned, baffled silence.
___________
Author's Note:
And Gilda's testimony is complete! I love that her idea of a legal defense is to give a deadpan, brutally honest lecture on axe maintenance. It's the most Gilda solution imaginable. She didn't argue, she didn't lie; she just bored them with the truth, and it was a masterpiece.
My favorite part is the reaction of the Adjudicators. Valerius is confused, Scribonia is probably drafting a whole new set of bylaws for weapon upkeep as we speak, and Lyra, the Adjudicator of Heart, is actually intrigued. Gilda's simple, unyielding sincerity seems to have resonated with her.
One down, three to go. The "stall" tactic has worked, for now. But now the Bureau has to call its next witness, and I have a feeling the testimony is going to be a very different kind of chaos.
Thanks for reading!
If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.