The call ended, and the Judge collected himself back after two brief seconds. For some reason, the mist had thickened further during the brief call, but the judge, Inquisitors or the participants were too busy to notice them as what just transpired here.
One of the ten High Seats. A peak level existence of the trial just called to save the asses of a few novice climbers. The Tower had not seen this type of incident for years or ever.
"Judge Nikier," asked one of the inquisitors in a hesitant tone. They were not so sure about the situation and could only let the one in charge here decide.
The elderly man, who now had an ugly scowl on his face, gave a last look towards Wrik and Scythe. Probably calculating the chances of everything going wrong. At least, with the huge advantage in place, Scythe would win the Little War, and as for the rest, he had to take care of later.
