Court guards stood to the left and right of Kincade. The dock was made of delicate honey-colored timber. Standing proud and defiant, Kincade squinted, and he wished the headache in his head would stop. But, finally, he was to get his day in court, and the truth would be out. He would be free and vindicated for his actions.

The court gallery was filled with onlookers and scholars alike, jeering and yelling for blood and the release of the accused. The proceedings were entertainment for many in the gallery. And they wanted a good show today.

The Judge was seated towards the front, with a door behind him to the left. In front of him was a brass nameplate that read Richard Thacker. The Judge was taking notes as the prosecution spoke, smiling at the noise of the rabble. The solicitor was a grossly overweight man. His blonde hair pushed against the familiar horsehair wig and was visible below it. The temperature in the room was causing his head to overheat, and beads of sweat crawled down his face.

"Your honor, if it pleases the court," the solicitor asked, then continued. "The defendant did, in a short period, escape from legitimate employment as an indentured crewman of the airship Ravens Claws. He did plan and execute an act of piracy, taking over The Kaitangata, a ship owned by the Steamspire Royal Trading Syndicate rescued from the grip of a pirate cabal. Lastly, and more importantly, he caused the most gruesome death of Captain Ridderford Wallace without legal cause. Yet these acts pale compared to the rampage leading to his arrest," the solicitor slammed his fist onto his podium and silently looked around the courtroom.

"These are the facts and cannot be disputed. I ask the court that he be hung until dead at dawn for these crimes and, I am sure, another hidden skullduggery, as fit and proper for a pirate." The solicitor concluded.

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The Judge looked down at the prosecuting solicitor, frowned, patted away at his cheek, and nodded. Then he looked to the defense lawyer.

"Have you an objection to this?" The Judge gestured with an upturned palm towards Kincade.

"What? What! Er," the defense lawyer responded, frantically looking through a collection of papers. Then, finally, he found a piece of paper, the front page folded and covered with text so he could write on the back. He read the text for a moment and looked towards the Judge. He straightened his robe and looked at Kincade in the dock, slightly smirking.

The defense solicitor held the paper against his chest, a logo out. Kincade looked at the paper, tilting his head to one side. He could see written across the top, 'Yours gratefully, Harry.'

"No, your Honor, all seems to be in order," The solicitor replied.

"Wait. NO. This is a travesty." Kincade yelled. The guard to his left pulled out a truncheon and jammed it into Kincade's back, forcing Kincade to double over backward and fall to his knees.

The gallery yelled out with a collection of voices in conflict with each other. Some accused the defense of a lack of bravado and an abundance of laziness. While others still commended both of the lawyers for a match well played, like a game of cricket.

"What madness is this?" Kincade shouted at the court from his Knees.

The Judge looked to his left, picked up a black cloth, and, lifting it up, scanned the gallery. The gallery, for their part, was holding their breath, mouths hung open in anticipation. "Well, are you all to hold your tongues?" the Judge called out to his gathered chorus. The court broke into cheers and called for the pirate's death.

At this call, the Judge smiled broadly. This was indeed the empire's frontier, and he would be heralded for his part in bringing justice. He covered his head in a simple act, either this most serious act of state or citizenship. Then, swiftly and without delay, the Judge lifted the gavel, and, at the fullness of its arc of travel, it was brought back to slam down with a sharp rap against the puck of wood. Small splinters of wood broke off the puck with each gavel rap.

"Kincade Rollins, you are a pirate," he pronounced in a clear tone bereft of emotion save for a hint of pride, thrusting out his lower jaw.

"Once the sun first touches your feet as you stand upon gallows. You are to be hung by the neck until dead tomorrow. You should know pirate! The gallows have been named 'Judges Thackers end,' and so shall you.".

The Judge proclaimed, and the room erupted in cheers.