And the Valthorne delegation was present.
Ragnar sat in the guest section, his mask in place, his eyes missing nothing.Beside him, General Thane stood with arms crossed; they had sat like this in many Tribe meetings; this was no different.
The Igwe sat on his throne, expression unreadable.The Elder of Justice rose.
"Your Majesty.Honoured nobles.Guests."His voice carried."We are gathered today to address crimes that strike at the very heart of our tribe.Crimes of slavery—not of foreigners, not of enemies taken in battle, but of our own people.Borjigin children, bought and sold like cattle, trafficked through networks that reach from the Steppes to the southern empires."
Gasps erupted.The Elder waited them out.
"These are not rumours.I wished more than anyone that these were just accusations from jealous rivals."He gestured, and the doors at the back of the chamber opened."I have witnesses."
The first witness was a trader—a man with hollow eyes and sickly yellow skin.He shuffled forward, flanked by guards, and knelt before the Igwe.
"Speak," the Igwe commanded.
The trader's voice was hoarse."I worked for him.For five years, I moved goods—I thought they were goods.They told me they were goods."He swallowed."They were children taken from villages along the border, sold to brokers and moved through my wagons to waiting ships."
"Who told you this?"the Elder demanded.
"His men."The trader pointed at the Iyom's father, who sat stiff and pale in the respondent's seat."His operation.He’s been running it for years.I didn't know at first.When I found out, I tried to leave.They said they'd kill my family."His voice broke."They showed me a lock of my daughter's hair."
The chamber erupted.The Igwe's hand slammed down, demanding silence.
The Iyom's father rose, his face purple with rage."Lies!This man has been paid to destroy me!"
"Then explain this," The Elder of Justice said, holding up an old document stamped with seals."A contract of sale, found in your personal vault, witnessed by your own scribe.For the purchase of five hundred and forty-three Borjigin children, sold to a Kemetian slaver, dated five years ago."
The Iyom's father stared at the document as though it were a snake about to strike."That—that is a forgery—"
"And this?"Another document."And this?And the testimony of seventeen former employees who have come forward since dawn?And the children themselves—rescued last night from a warehouse on the edge of the city, still in cages, still bearing the marks of your brand?"The Elder's voice rose."Shall I bring them in?Shall the nobles of this court look upon the faces of our own blood, our own tribe, and hear from their own lips what was done to them?"
The Iyom's father's mouth opened and closed.No sound came out.
This was not supposed to happen.His operation had been quiet for years; how had they found out?How had they gathered so much evidence so quickly?
The Elder pressed on.
More witnesses.
More documents.
More testimonies.
Each word was another nail in a coffin that had already been sealed.
Finally, the Igwe raised his hand.
"Enough."
The chamber fell silent.
He looked at the Iyom's father—a man who had sat at his table, who had shared his wine, and whose daughter had borne his favourite son.His expression seemed to struggle; should it be anger?Or was he trying to show disappointment?No one could quite tell.
"You stand accused of crimes against our people, against the gods themselves, who forbid the selling of Borjigin blood."His voice was quiet, but it carried."The evidence is overwhelming.The witnesses are credible.The children are here, in my palace, screaming for the blood of their loved ones you have sold!"His soft words ended in fury, and the Elders were quick to stand from their seats and fall to their knees.
Somadina followed suit; he had not spoken one word.A crime like this was too disastrous to try and defend, and though he knew of it, he did not think Borji would ever have the resources or brainpower to find a way to impeach his grandfather.
No, this couldn’t be Borji; that much his heart could understand.It was the work of another.
