The bailiff was an old man who looked more like a merchant than a lawman.

'My lady,' he greeted me with a slight bow, but I strode right past him into the short stone building that lay behind. As Trackford had no castle, prisoners were kept in a free-standing dungeon which apparently doubled as a home for stray livestock. The bailiff caught me frowning curiously at them and said, 'Ain't much call for a bailiff in Trackford. Most of the time these cells are empty. We put them to use cleaning up the streets from loose animals, and ferals.'

'Very good,' I said. It was all I could say without giving away my repulsion at the smell. The place reeked like a stable that hadn’t been cleaned out in a week.

I motioned for the bailiff to continue and he led me to Steib. He had a cell to himself, though his five bodyguards shared the adjacent cell. I decided to deal with them first, as their matter was comparatively small and I took pity on their having already spent a day among the swine. Honouring an oath was what had landed them here, not treason.

'I apologise for the time it has taken me to come here,' I said, though my tone was more accusatory than apologetic. 'Your escape into the Dreadwood Forest kept me up past dawn.'

One of the bodyguards stepped forward, not even bothering to address my words. 'We were bound by our word to at least try to defend Steib.' I nodded in acknowledgement. Many women scorned male honour as an illogical annoyance, but I often thought it useful. Though in this circumstance honour had clashed with legality, most of the time they ran parallel, which made the task of governing more manageable. In response to the silence that I maintained in repulsion at the pervading stench, the bodyguard added, 'Please let us go, Countess.'

'If I did that,' I said, speaking quickly so that I would not have to breathe in as deeply, 'I would be permitting the law to be defied for matters of honour. It would set a bad example.'

The men looked downcast at my words. They were good, hardy, honest men, and I wondered why they did not serve as professional soldiers rather than merchant security guards. Perhaps the pay was better? I asked them as much, and the man shook his head.

'There are never any open positions in the town guard,' he said. 'Steib kept their numbers low so that he might retain the money that would have gone to their wages.'

It was all I could do not to glare at Steib's cell. That would have seemed infantile. The Baron was charged with maintaining the guard necessary for defence of the city. No doubt he had considered it unlikely that Trackford woulud require ad efence, but that did not excuse him.

A flash of inspiration crossed my mind and I spoke it to the bodyguards. 'As I said, I cannot let you go without punishment.'

'We have little money, my lady,' one of them interjected, but I carried on as if I hadn't been interrupted.

'Though the city coffers have been emptied by Baron Steib, I do not think that a fine is appropriate in these circumstances. Instead, I sentence you to two weeks of indentured service.' The bodyguards' eyes dropped to the messy floor. 'You will report to the commander of the town guard and offer your services to him for two weeks. If he is satisfied with your abilities after the two weeks have elapsed, he will be permitted to retain your services as professionals.'

'Thank you, my lady,' the men were saying, and I felt uplifted to have provided an opportunity for positive change. I felt a pang of concern that I might have judged them too quickly and left myself open to being taken advantage of, but it was worth the chance. I had no heart for punishing men who acted merely in pursuit of their duty.

The bailiff opened the cell and they shuffled past me to their freedom. Only once they were beyond my sight did I turn to Steib. Though the livestock had been cleared from his cell he would have looked at home among the pigs. He stood as I approached the bars and dusted himself off from the accumulated dirt and hay. Despite his attempt at maintaining decorum, I could see from the despondent expression on his face that he was a broken man. I'd left him alone to rot in prison for a day where he'd had little to do except reflect on his mistakes, and he'd realised that he was doomed. His defence was that he'd saved the city by preventing the raiders' violence, but I was his judge and I knew that he'd merely delayed it; that it was Timoth who had actually prevented it. And Steib knew that I knew.

From looking at the County ledgers, I also knew first-hand the damage that had been done to Ebonreach's treasury by the tribute that Trackford had paid to the Tokuans. Perhaps if Baron Steib had sought a vote from the Merchant's Council – the organisation that ostensibly administered Trackford's economic affairs – he could have shared the blame around and saved himself, but he'd made the decision as a dictator. I suspected that he'd become so used to running things on his own that he simply hadn't bothered seeking the approval of the Merchant's Council, and now he would pay for his usurpation of the city rulership.

A new baron would have to be put in charge of things, of course, and many of the powers that Steib had gathered to himself redistributed back to the Council. This line of thought was straining the limits of my knowledge already, gleaming what I knew from short conversations with Urzo and Timoth and even Steib, and I didn't feel qualified to handle such a task. I resolved to try Steib first, and deal with the appointment of a new baron second.

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'What are you going to do with me?' Steib asked, dragging me back to reality.

'I told you already. I'm going to try you in a court of law,' I responded.

'And then what?'

'The outcome is not yet known. Have you become so corrupt that you cannot even conceive of justice being dispensed fairly?' I asked him in disgust, but he made a sly grin in response.

'I can conceive of justice, my lady, but I do not expect to see it delivered from your hands,' he said. An insult, but one which made me feel oddly strong. The fact that he was reduced to personal attacks on my character showed how helpless he truly was. He had burned all of his bridges with the townsfolk and there was nothing left for him to do except await my judgement.

I didn't deign to respond to him, and I instead addressed the bailiff. 'Escort him to the market hall. Have the stalls cleared for the day, and tell the vendors not to expect them to be open tomorrow.'

The bailiff nodded half-heartedly and disappeared without a word, presumably to fetch additional guards. Impolite, perhaps, but innocently so. I spoke to Steib one last time, 'I will see you in the market hall.'

He said nothing in response, possibly because he was gripped by fear now that the trial was becoming a reality. I left him to his terror and resolved to find Guildmaster Urzo. He was my sole contact in this city and I wanted him by my side at the trial, if only to make me feel more comfortable, though his local knowledge was also invaluable.

After making some inquiries I found him in the eastern district of the city, within sight of the Dreadwood Forest - or at least the trees on our side of the old border. He was speaking to a number of men whose callused hands and bulging upper body muscles bespoke their trade as woodcutters.

'Is your guild solely comprised of woodcutters?' I asked him when he saw me approach, with a smile.

'They form the core of it. Unlike in some parts of Halivaara, guilds in Trackford are not bound to a single trade, and I personally hold no trade,' Urzo replied. So he was essentially a merchant, only instead of selling goods he sold the services of other men

'Interesting. Now, to the point:, Baron Steib's trial is about to begin, and I'd be grateful for your attendance,' I said.

'Of course, Countess,' he replied. 'Where is thetrial being held?'

'I've ordered the market hall cleared for the next two days. I want the trial to be public,' I told him.

'That will upset the merchants, my lady. And executing him won't solve the underlying problem,' Urzo said. He seemed ready to launch into a lengthy speech about regional politics and the importance of placating the merchant class but I raised a hand to stop him.

'It is done. The hall is cleared. As for the underlying problem, I plan to deal with that once I have finished with Steib.’

Urzo seemed to agree, and together we walked to the market hall. The last merchants were still being cleared by some of the town guard and the commotion had caused a large crowd to gather. When I neared the open entranceway I saw Baron Steib inside. A guard stood behind each of his shoulders, and his ankles were tied to the legs of his chair. He was positioned at one end of a small wooden dais, and at the other was a single wooden chair. I could tell from the thick cushions which adorned it that the bailiff intended it to be mine. Without prompting, Urzo claimed another chair from outside of the market hall and placed it beside the first one, though before we sat I took aside a young man in the bureaucratic garb I’d seen in the upper floor of the building two nights previously.

'Find someone to act as a scribe. And have the bookkeepers organise their records, I will look through them later,' I instructed him. He seemed daunted to be speaking to me, but after an initial delay the boy jumped to the task eagerly.

With the administrative matters sorted, I strode confidently onto the stage to address the crowd. 'Citizens of Trackford, you are no doubt aware that two nights ago Baron Steib was captured by valiant soldiers of the Reach. Some perished in the attempt. All served this town well. Now is the time to try the Baron for his crime of treason by way of gifting public funds to the enemy, and for attempting to flee the Crown's justice,' I said. At first, the crowd quietened to hear my words, but as I spoke of his crimes they began to cheer. Urzo had been right: Steib was not popular in Trackford.

I sat down and the townsfolk crammed into the market hall, and the number of spectators was only increasing as passers-by caught sight of the trial. A scribe crouched in the rear corner of the dais preparing his papers and inks. I made a mental note to arrange the provision of a desk during our next adjournment. Then I turned to the task at hand, forcing to the forefront of my mind all that Father had taught me in the throne room of Haelling Cove.

'On this occasion, the Crown is the prosecutor. As I represent the Crown, and the prosecution is tasked with submitting their evidence first, I call to the dais Guildmaster Urzo on behalf of the Merchant's Council.’

Steib's immediate interruption provided to me some idea of how much more difficult this was going to be than any minor civil disagreement in Haelling Cove.

'Urzo does not represent the Merchant's Council - I do!'

I calmly shook my head, suppressing the angry realisation that he would fight me every step of the way. I couldn’t even blame him: his life was at stake, after all. I counselled myself to show patience, and that I could lose all the goodwill I had gained in this city if I perverted the course of justice for the sake of my own convenience.

'Obviously you may not represent the Merchant's Council in your own trial, Steib. I invite any willing members of the Merchant's council to join Guildmaster Urzo on the stage to offer evidence in the trial of Baron Steib.'

As I’d expected none of them were willing, no doubt cowed by Steib's threats or bound by his bribes. They wanted rid of him, but they expected me to do all the work to achieve that end. I began to understand how Steib had come to accumulate so much power in the first place.

'Very good,' I murmured. Urzo left his chair beside mine and stood in the centre of the stage, between myself and Steib. I addressed him, 'please state your name for the record.'