Foolish king,

You seek an impartial trial, as if it will set things right. You hope, perhaps, that this will get your little memorabilia back. Then know what everyone else on Sapience already does: none care for justice in front of their own causes. Creation is a sinking raft, and everyone scrambles to take what they can. The Elder no longer guards Her Realm, and Her Scales will soon fall to Ruin entirely. You alone call for patience and investigation.

Who do you hope to respect your tribunal? Moral law bends to power, and none dictate their will now without a promise of violence meted. You have none to promise. Greater powers than your own invade your forest and kill your innocents, your land a pawn in their games. An island of Ashtani outcasts wages war against your people and openly mocks you at your wedding, and leaves scot-free. Your fairness does not endure in the face of those ready to enact change.

Through fairness you choose stagnancy, and your kingdom stands a testament. Your village, once Sapience's jewel, grows irrelevant and fades while other nations grow, unafraid to assert their will. You seek what is right, while others make their own right.

So cut your losses, king of the bygone era. Your boats do not take into the sea, your bribes do not shatter the bureaucracies of nations, and your best hunters are killed for sport. Justice will not be served, and all you will have is a faint satisfaction of knowing who was wrong. This advice I give you out of compassion.

And if just knowing the truth is going to be enough to you, then rejoice, for your truth will not be different from everything you are willing to sacrifice.

For it too will fail.

Penned by my hand on the 7th of Sarapin, in the year 998 AF.