The portrait of King Zephiel glares down at us below the banner of Bern's crest. The madam stands before the court with a hood over her head. The officials look at her, filling the stone-walled hall with low mutters: 'what has she done?', 'she's going to the gallows, for sure.' The breeze is cold against my neck, reminding me of the hair-cutting incident that brought this whole situation on. For the first time, I wish this was just another dull meeting that Ellen nudges me throughout to keep us both awake, or the sight of Princess Guinevere's statuesque frame that reminds me to stop fidgeting. This evening, I am standing beside Gale at the reporting officer's stand, sweating under my armour.

'Honourable knights of Bern,' General Murdock booms throughout the hall, 'we have gathered here for a rather unexpected meeting.' A couple of knights stare at me but thankfully, everyone is paying attention to the hooded madam. She taps one foot impatiently: tok... Tok... Tok.

'General Murdock continues, 'we have been alerted that this woman has been operating in the sinful trade without a licence. We will be checking records to see which knight on duty at the border was so careless as to let this woman into the capital. Such irresponsibility deserves dire consequences for the danger it has brought to this country's security and virtue.' He stares down at the madam, 'ma'am, along with six fellow women, you have been dealing in beauty products, wigs and other vanities to cover your covert operation of immoral activities. Do you deny it?'

'I do not deny it, good sir,' the Madam sniggers. She folds her arms, exposing slender forearms inside loose sleeves, 'I'm so pleased to see so many familiar customers among your righteous knights of Bern.' I catch a few nervous faces among my comrades. Gale seems unperturbed, not like the men who have so clearly used the madam's services.

'Your actions will attract the gravest penalty for exporting moral filth into this country,' General Murdock bangs the end of his staff against the floor.

The madam returns a cackle, 'I'll offer my head on a platter but your fantasy of a righteous populace free of its basest instincts is pure delusion. Look around! Your men of justice are trembling at the loss of my services. They want exotic women, not the common chooks from regulated pens.'

The knights in the gallery whimper as General Murdock's gaze falls on them. Gale's warm breath condenses on my ear when he leans over to whisper, 'that woman's tongue is as slick as Narcian's.' Narcian stands guard at the back, twirling his curly blonde fringe around one finger. His chin is a sharp triangle, boring into the madam's back.

'Guards, take this woman to gaol,' General Murdock waves his hand. Two soldiers grab the woman by her arms. As they march her away, the general proclaims, 'this woman and her subordinates will be punished for breaking the law.'

My breath stops when I picture Madira's gentle eyes and the pathetic girl minding the shop front. It can't be fair for them to suffer the same punishment, 'w-wait, General Murdock. If I may!'

The hall falls silent as General Murdock turns to me, 'do you have something to add to your report, Miledy?'

'Well, I agree with your punishment of the madam. But I do not believe that the woman following her should face the same consequences,' I gulp, suddenly realising my misstep when the room gasps: I am publicly disagreeing with General Murdock. But it's too late to backstep, 'it's just- I don't believe the women were acting of their own free will.'

'I take your point, Miledy,' General Murdock's voice hardens, 'but then what do you propose we do with them?'

'Oh—!' My utterance triggers a few snarls from the crowd. Gale gives me the slightest nod, encouraging me to continue, 'um, we could simply... get them jobs here.' My voice steadies when I remember Madira's skill with her hair care instruments. It would be a waste to discard her dexterity, 'they're skilled in their trade of providing beauty services. Why can't they continue to do that here?'

'Because that's not a high demand skill in this country, you fool!' Narcian screeches from the back of the hall, 'General Murdock, we need to end this travesty. Those dogs should follow their master to the grave before they defecate on our culture any further!'

'So… Miledy is in favour of allowing the women to make a living,' General Murdock strokes his chin, 'Narcian would like them imprisoned with their boss. Perhaps we should hold a debate.'

'What's General Murdock doing...?' Gale murmurs to himself. Tentative mumbles of confusion, then agreement pass along the crowd.

'But General Murdock,' Narcian strides to the front of the hall, 'the case is clear: these women violated a law so they must serve time. If we—.'

'If the case is so settled, you should be able to defend it with ease,' General Murdock states, 'now, stand before the court. State your name and occupation.'

'What a joke...' Narcian grumbles before flourishing to the crowd, 'ladies and gentlemen, my name is Narcian. I am a captain of the Bern army. I will argue the case that these sinful women must face the same fate as their master. They are a threat to this nation, a foreign virus that penetrates a healthy man in order to disable him from the inside.'

Narcian's dagger sharp eyes lock onto Gale whose body stiffens at the attack. Narcian paces around the stage, exploiting its full expanse to address the audience, 'there is a reason we place restrictions on those who are allowed to seek employment and settle here. Outsiders bring their cultural differences, values and old habits. Think! Will these women, so accustomed to selling their bodies to the detriment of good families and men's spirits in Bern, settle comfortably into the lives of simple hairdressers and designers? They will continue their illicit trade underground and poison the soil from which this society grows.'

Nods of agreement punctuate the crowd. That's not it! I bite my lip: you think those women would choose to enslave themselves when they can earn more doing less humiliating work?

'Second,' Narcian raises his hand to silence the crowd's murmurs, 'as great as Bern is, we cannot be a home to the entire continent. What makes Bern unique is our value for hard work and military strength. Only those who uphold those principles should be permitted residence here.'

Then get yourself out! Narcian: the son of aristocrats lecturing to us about hard work who is mediocre in combat when stripped of his dirty tricks. I glance at Gale whose chin rests in his palm. His eyes are closed. Is he sleeping or thinking?

'Think: what would happen if we let these women perform menial jobs just for the sake of staying here?' Narcian's hands mime the opening of floodgates, 'there'd be more so-called asylum seekers crashing in with their pitiful stories. Our country would be weaker because many of these new arrivals would not appreciate our culture of hard work, military prowess and determination! Some of them would even insist on dragging their deadbeat relatives, weighing down the country's economy with them!'

Is that true? I feel myself pulled into the tentative agreement sweeping the court. Even General Murdock is nodding.

'Now, my time with you all is running out but let me address a likely objection from the opposition,' Narcian casts a triumphant glance in my direction, 'the opposition may rightly observe that our rival, the Etrurian state, is notably diverse.'

It's hopeless: I cannot win this argument if he's anticipating a rebuttal I hadn't even considered. Narcian continues, 'she would be right to point at the myriad of technological advances that resulted from having a multicultural society. But Etruria's governmental structure has evolved to be completely different to Bern's. First, it is still in many ways a religious state, giving its citizens the Eliminean faith to cohere around. We in Bern do not have that, nor could our pragmatic impulses convince us to splash ourselves in holy water.' Claps resound throughout the hall. Gale keeps his head up, hands stuffed in his pockets.

'Second,' Narcian holds up a raised finger, 'the Etrurian government has developed a highly stratified system of local, regional and national authorities that allow new arrivals to be closely tracked. We in Bern do not have that, nor can we afford a cumbersome bureaucracy that collects taxes like a leaky bucket.' Again, the crowd applauds. Gale and I exchange looks. Despite Narcian's diatribe against Gale's birthplace, Gale wears the same stern frown and thoughtful, dark eyes. He seems indifferent to the criticisms, perhaps even in agreement with them.

'And so, good members of the King's Court,' Narcian concludes, pacing back and forth until he returns to the centre of the stage, 'this is not a matter of six victimised women as the opposition will have you believe. They are complicit with the madam's plot. This matter is about the integrity of the Bern state and its future!'

Except for Gale, the crowd cheers along with Narcian. Narcian wears that crazed look of a hunter about to spear a deer, veins and arteries pulsing in the whites of his eyes. General Murdock answers Narcian's bow with an approving nod.

'Miledy,' General Murdock turns to me. The crowd's enthusiasm dies down to silence, 'you now have the chance to respond— if you still wish to do so.'

My palms soak the insides of my gloves. I can barely string a complete sentence, let alone a full rebuttal. I should just surrender.

'Miledy, what's wrong?' Gale whispers. His tensed forehead forms vertical dents above his eyebrows.

'I... I don't...' I glance down at his hands rolled into fists, then back up at his eyes. It's that look from our last duel when he promised to go 100%. I can't give up. I slide out from behind the officer's stand, 'General Murdock, I would like to make a case for allowing women refuge here.'

'The floor is yours,' General Murdock states, though the other knights are grumbling among themselves. I look at Gale. His hands are on the bench, watching intently.

'Fellow knights of Bern, I am Miledy, the bodyguard of Princess Guinevere.' Yes, that's my title. I must not quiver like a child being scolded for flying too far into the mountains, 'I thank my comrade Narcian for making his case.' The crowd is quiet. Mother is right: showing graciousness to your opponents nudges audiences to your side, even if only slightly, 'however, I would like to argue in favour of the women being permitted to stay and continue in some legitimate line of work.' I clear my throat, 'these women are…' No, I can't start with personal anecdotes about Madira. Mother always tells me off when I try to argue with emotions. How would she approach this with her pragmatic lens? 'I-If Narcian's main concern is the disintegration of Bern's ideals of hard work and endurance, then surely these women are part of upholding that mission. The illegal activity aside—.'

A few men snigger at the disclaimer. I clasp my hands. The stone-floored expanse around me is a barren island that appears so much larger when one is standing on it, 'these women proved themselves to be highly competitive in their trade, for they have remaining in business while selling their wares across the continent. To give them a chance to rebuild their lives and new businesses upholds Bern's spirit of self-determination and hard work.'

After silence, General Murdock asks, 'is that all you have to say, Miledy?'

My mind races through the conversation with Madira in front of the vanity as she made deft cuts, serene when she accepted my tip. I picture the other miserable girl at the storefront, swallowed by a crumpled white apron. If only I could communicate the pity I had! But heeding Mother's words, I reply to General Murdock, 'yes, that's all, General Murdock.'

'I will ask some questions then,' General Murdock's answer surprises me. I had expected him to kick me off stage and stick to his original ruling, 'how can we be so sure that the women will assimilate and help Bern prosper, rather than sow the seeds of immorality that Narcian alluded to?'

'Well...' My eyes flicker to Gale. He holds his chin between his second finger and thumb. 'I cannot guarantee any future but had a lengthy interaction with one of the women, Madira from the Nabata desert. She is a devoted and skilled hairdresser who complied with the madam's illicit activity only to provide for herself and the girls who had been tricked into joining the madam's ring.'

'I see,' General Murdock nods slowly. A soldier in the crowd rasps 'is he buying it?!' The general continues, 'this Madira... Do you think she has any skills that are transferable to a high demand category, namely medicine or the military?'

'No...' I murmur.

'That's a shame,' General Murdock stands up, 'I might have changed my mind if the women's skills were transferable. The girls will be deported to their countries of origin. Bern's relations with Etruria are fragile. We must be judicious in the allocation of resources. I hope you understand my decision.'

'Yes, General,' I bow and return to the reporting officers' stand.

'Alright, this case is over, it's time to—,' before General Murdock finishes, Narcian calls out 'STOP!'

'The case with the madam and her sinful troop may be over,' Narcian storms out the front again, 'but I think we need to hold the so-called bodyguard of Princess Guinevere accountable!' His manicured nails point right at me, 'she parrots the ideals of this country without meaning a single one! She endangers this country's national security because deep down, she despises it! She resents it for honouring her brave descendants while she is a petty, rebellious coward. Look at the way she assumes the appearance of an Etrurian noblewoman!'

Narcian turns to the audience, 'you are blind if you cannot see this woman's hatred of her own nation and the dangers that her carelessness towards foreign scum could bring to Bern's survival: she should be stripped of her title and expelled from the Bern army!'

The hall erupts into enraged screams at me. My body shrinks inside my armour. I catch sight of Princess Guinevere's marigold hair in the audience. She shakes her head, linking arms with Ellen who is praying.

'Silence,' the general orders before uttering, 'yes, Gale? You have a response?' I hadn't noticed Gale raising his hand through the chaos.

'Thank you, General,' Gale's deep, calm voice cuts through the storm of yelling men, 'I would just like to advise against expelling my comrade, Miledy, from the Bern army altogether. To do so on the basis of her new haircut, which I can explain at a later time, seems rather harsh.'

General Murdock scratches his chin, 'I must agree with Gale. Miledy will not be expelled from the Bern army. However, she will no longer be assigned as Princess Guinevere's bodyguard and be on suspension until further notice.'

'What?' Just as I try to slam the bench, Gale pushes my hands away from the wooden top.

He shakes his head, muttering, 'don't pursue it now.' My breath accelerates, desiccating the inside of my mouth. General Murdock proclaims the session over. I turn to my side, but Gale has vanished.

Passing soldiers glare at me, the publicly demoted and suspended knight. Amid the chatter, I see a familiar head of red hair in the courtyard—Mother? She must have heard about the trial through our town's local news.

'Miledy...' Mother turns around. The other soldiers become a blur. Her boots patter against the stone floor as she hurries towards me, trembling, 'my child…'

'Mother, why're you— I-I'm sorry!' I cry when she pulls me into an embrace. I cling to her frail frame, worried I'll crush her bones yet yearning to tighten my hold, 'I don't deserve to be a knight: I disrespected the nation— and I disgraced our family... I failed you...'

Mother reaches up to stroke my head, 'being a knight is not about a title. It's about being humane and just. I... I was so proud of you.'

A man's hand holding a handkerchief appears under my chin. It is Gale.

'Your mother is right,' Gale remarks, 'if it wasn't for your defence. The women would be prosecuted alongside their boss. As cruel as deportation is, it's still far preferable to being treated as criminals on par with their captor.' Then, he bows to Mother, 'General Lurja. It's an honour to meet you.' For some reason, excitement balloons in my chest at the sight of Gale meeting Mother.

'Likewise, Sir Gale,' Mother mutters before placing her hand on my arm. She tries to pull me closer to her side, but my feet remain planted on the ground.

'Thank you, Gale.' Colour flushes into my face, 'I almost surrendered the case, but you encouraged me to continue.'

'Miledy, you should collect your belongings from the barracks,' Mother taps my forearm with the suspension notice. It slides into my fingers.

'I must not delay you then,' Gale nods farewell, 'take care back home, Miledy. And keep training. I will—you'll return soon, I'm certain.'

'I hope so…' We stare at each other for a few moments, letting the drone of rowdy soldiers pass us. Only when Mother drags me towards her do we part ways. I turn around one last time to see his dark hair streaming behind him.

'By the way, Miledy,' Mother ruffles my hair, 'who is this Lady Priscilla? The local news mentioned that she was your fashion icon.'

'How would I know?' I grumble.