The halls of Vorlaxion’s court carried an uneasy sort of stillness that day, the kind that settles over a room moments before lightning strikes. Lords and Ladies gathered beneath the cold glow of the chamber lights while whispers drifted softly between them like smoke. Even the smallest gestures carried tension.
Lord Darkfyre arrived with his usual sharp grin, greeting the Chronotis family as though this were any ordinary political proceeding. Nearby, Lady Thursday watched the room carefully, her expression grim beneath the calm mask she wore so well. Lord Conundrum offered cheerful greetings where he could, though even he seemed unable to fully lift the weight hanging over the chamber.
At the center of it all sat the accused. Mortimus.
The Investigator called the court to order with a warning that interruptions from the gallery would not be tolerated. Then, with a single command, the trial truly began.
“Bring in the accused.” The atmosphere shifted immediately.
Lord President Chronotis was the first to present new evidence. Calmly, almost smugly, he announced that the Matrix had finally been restored. After extensive repair work, its records revealed that the sabotage had not been accidental at all. The shutdown had been deliberate. Calculated.
And worst of all, timed perfectly. Mortimus betrayed the slightest flicker of concern before hiding it behind a practiced smile.
The Lord President continued relentlessly. Data recovered from the Matrix confirmed that the mysterious cog activity throughout Vorlaxion had responded directly to signals from Mortimus’ own device. Audio recordings had also been recovered. Damning ones.
“If they cannot function without the Matrix,” Mortimus had apparently remarked, “they deserve to lose it.”
Another recording sneered at “dependency masquerading as superiority.”
The courtroom stirred uneasily at the revelation, but Mortimus himself remained infuriatingly calm. In fact, he almost sounded proud. “And yet here you all stand,” he replied coolly. “Alive, organised, and suddenly capable of independent thought the moment your precious Matrix vanished. You’re welcome.”
The words lingered heavily in the room. Yet the deeper the investigation went, the stranger the situation became.
Lord President Chronotis revealed that Mortimus had first discovered the catastrophic flaw in Vorlaxion’s systems when the mysterious capsule had arrived in the city. However, the identity of its owner remained hidden behind encrypted symbiotic nucleus records.
When ordered to reveal whose capsule it was, Mortimus refused outright. “I do,” he admitted softly. “And I decline to answer.”
That answer unsettled the room far more than a confession might have. Then came the testimony that changed the direction of the trial entirely.
Lady Thursday stepped forward.
With her usual sharp wit barely concealing genuine concern, she described what had happened during efforts to restore the Matrix. According to her account, Mortimus had displayed signs of hypnotic conditioning while imprisoned. Trigger phrases had seemingly forced automatic responses from him, even compelling him to reveal passcodes to the Matrix systems.
More troubling still, there had been irregularities within the lighting system of his prison cell. Lady Thursday carefully suggested the possibility that someone with security access had manipulated the environment to influence Mortimus directly. The implication spread through the courtroom like frost.
She hesitated before continuing further, clearly aware of the danger in what she was about to suggest. Still, she pressed on. The Matrix itself had transmitted cryptic messages claiming that Mortimus was “not the danger,” that they should have allowed him to finish whatever he had begun, and asking perhaps the most disturbing question of all:
Who taught them to fear him? Lady Thursday finally voiced the inference she had been dancing around.
At least one individual, she argued, had both the authority to access the Matrix systems and the opportunity to tamper with Mortimus’ cell. Furthermore, that same person had openly encouraged hostility toward Mortimus throughout the proceedings.
Her gaze turned toward Lord Winters.
At the same time, she referenced the actions of Lord Serpentine, who had apparently drawn a staser during earlier confrontations involving the accused. The room erupted into quiet shock.
Lord Winters accepted the scrutiny with surprising calm, volunteering himself for whatever investigations might be necessary. He defended Lord Serpentine as eccentric but fundamentally good-hearted, though Lord Winchester confirmed that the weapon incident had indeed occurred.
Throughout all of it, Mortimus simply watched. Smiling. Watching the court slowly turn suspiciously upon itself seemed to delight him more than the actual trial.
As tensions rose, Lady Thursday snapped angrily that security should perhaps not allow unstable immortals to wander through the Matrix chamber carrying unknown energy weapons. Even she appeared rattled by the implications of everything unfolding around them.
The Investigator eventually attempted to regain control, summarizing the evidence plainly. The cogs. The stolen buildings. The Matrix sabotage. The only constant connection between all of it was Mortimus and the strange device tied uniquely to his bioneural imprint.
A vote was called.
Though concerns remained about possible conspirators still hiding within Vorlaxion itself, the court proceeded. Quietly, thoughts were directed into the telepathic ballot box while tension coiled tightly around the chamber.
When the results were announced, the verdict was decisive. Five votes to one.
Guilty.
Mortimus was sentenced to permanent containment under maximum security and ordered to assist compulsorily in repairing Matrix vulnerabilities. The monk rose slowly at the sentence, smoothing the sleeves of his robes with eerie composure.
“Permanent containment?” he mused lightly. “Oh, excellent. You’ve finally found a use for all those empty corridors.”
Even then, his amusement never faded. But the final mistake came moments later.
The Investigator ordered Mortimus to surrender the names of any co-conspirators. Mortimus refused instantly, his voice soft and cold. “That mistake, at least, I won’t be making.” Then came the phrase that poisoned the remainder of the proceedings.
The Investigator informed the Commander that he was legally authorised to use “any means necessary” to obtain the information.
The courtroom exploded.
Lord Darkfyre immediately challenged the implication of torture while Lord Winters argued that torture produced worthless confessions anyway. Lady Thursday furiously pointed out that if someone within security truly was involved, brutality would only deepen the danger.
And standing in the middle of the chaos, Mortimus laughed softly to himself. “Oh, this is magnificent,” he murmured. “Five minutes into righteousness and you’re already debating torture.”
The Lord President finally stepped in. Lord President Chronotis firmly reminded the court that Vorlaxion had abandoned mind probes and similar practices long ago. They were not the Capitol. They would not inherit Gallifrey’s cruelty. “Torture is not one of those things.” The declaration settled over the chamber like final judgment.
At last, the order was given to remove the prisoner. Mortimus offered no resistance as Lord Winchester escorted him away. Before disappearing beyond the courtroom doors, he turned back one final time, his expression calm and deeply entertained. “You restored the Matrix,” he said quietly, “and somehow lost your certainty. Fascinating trade.”
Silence followed him out. Even after the trial ended, the damage remained. The court had found Mortimus guilty. But by the time the chamber emptied and the echoes faded into silence, one truth lingered heavier than the verdict itself.
The real conspiracy might still be sitting among them.