Segment 1: The Crown Calls for Order
"What good is a protector," Ethan said quietly, "without a law to uphold?"
The question echoed not through the streets of Crownstead, but in the high council chamber beneath the eastern dome of the White Palace. Windows framed a soft morning light, and below, the city moved with its now-familiar cadence. But inside these walls, a new tension stirred—not of chaos, but of expectation.
The Sovereign Interface shimmered with an urgent pulse.
System Milestone Reached: Realm Stability Tier I Complete
Governance Tier Unlocked: Realm Jurisprudence
You may now:
— Draft Foundational Laws
— Establish Legal Enforcement Protocols
— Register Protectors and Officials by Oath and Identity
Prompt:
Draft First Realm Laws?
Establish Officer Registry?
— YES
— NO
Ethan didn't hesitate.
He tapped YES.
The entire interface expanded into a legal framework view—dozens of panels floating before him like an interactive codex: sections for Civil Order, Public Safety, Protectorate Conduct, and Sovereign Authority. A new header formed across the top:
Arcadian Legal Doctrine – Founding Framework
Elira stood beside him in full Warden regalia, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"You've given them structure," she said, "but not standards. They've trained, patrolled, and served—but we haven't told them what they're defending."
Evelyn entered from the stairwell, holding a folder of response logs and procedural breakdowns.
"We've had three near-collisions between departments in the last week," she said bluntly. "DPS, logistics patrol, and a housing aide all tried to evict the same squatters—each citing different rules."
Ethan rubbed his temples. "We don't have rules."
"Exactly," Evelyn replied.
Elira stepped forward. "It's time."
Ethan opened the Sovereign Summons menu.
He didn't summon warriors.
He summoned counsel.
Select: Justice Advisors – Tier I: Civil Governance Specialty
Criteria: Earth-born backgrounds with Realm-aligned ethos
Summoning…
Sir Alan Warrick – Retired UK Crown Court Judge— Specialty: Constitutional Reasoning, Doctrine Formation, Nobility Protocol
Amara Belyan – Civil Rights Attorney (US, pre-summoning)— Specialty: Equal Protection, Statutory Interpretation, Procedural Oversight
The chamber glowed as two portals formed.
From the first stepped Sir Alan Warrick, tall and silver-haired in a traditional barrister's robe, but with eyes alert and steel-clear.
He gave Ethan a short bow. "Your Majesty. I trust there is law to be written."
From the second stepped Amara Belyan, sharp-eyed and calm, dressed in field-ready clothing but with a case file already forming in her hands from a system-generated archive.
"If you're going to build a realm," she said, "you'd better make sure everyone knows their rights inside it."
Ethan smiled—grateful, not for their credentials, but for their clarity.
Because now, the Realm would not only live.
It would stand.
Segment 2: Writing the First Royal Statutes
"Law is not power," Sir Alan Warrick said, his voice low but unwavering as the quill hovered over the parchment. "Law is restraint. Even the Crown must follow it."
The chamber inside the eastern wing of the White Palace was silent save for the scratching of ink and the occasional quiet hum from the Sovereign Interface. Around a long stone table sat Ethan, Sir Alan, Amara Belyan, Elira, Evelyn, and Kaelin—each positioned not as advisors, but as witnesses to the moment Arcadia would no longer simply exist.
It would be governed.
The Sovereign Interface had expanded again—now a gridded codex, labeled:
Royal Protocol Codex
Statutory Layer: Level I – Foundational Governance
Amara adjusted her notes and addressed the group. "These first statutes must do three things: define the boundaries of authority, protect the rights of the people, and clarify the responsibilities of those in power."
Ethan nodded. "And they must apply to me, not just those beneath me."
Sir Alan gave a quiet smile. "Then Arcadia may endure after all."
Together, over the span of hours, they debated, drafted, and refined the First Five Royal Laws. At Ethan's request, each was framed not with legalese, but in language clear enough for any citizen or cadet to understand.
ROYAL STATUTE I: The Right to Life and Sanctuary
No protector, sovereign, or citizen may take the life of another without just cause recognized under realm law.
Any person within Arcadia has the right to seek sanctuary from harm within the realm's borders.
Violation shall be deemed an act of grave misconduct or murder, punishable by permanent exile or death.
ROYAL STATUTE II: Treason and the Sovereign's Protection
To strike at the sovereign, their chosen heirs, or disrupt the lawful governance of Arcadia through subversion, incitement, or armed insurrection is treason.
However, criticism, counsel, or lawful resistance within the bounds of this Codex shall not be deemed treasonous.
Treason is punishable by judgment of the High Tribunal.
ROYAL STATUTE III: Use of Force by Appointed Officers
All appointed officers—troopers, medics, dispatchers, or defenders—may only use force proportional to the threat presented.
Unjustified or excessive force is a violation of trust and law.
All uses of force shall be recorded and reviewed.
ROYAL STATUTE IV: Duty of Service to the People of the Realm
All public servants and officers, regardless of division or rank, serve not the sovereign, but the people.
Failure to render aid, act with due diligence, or abandonment of post during a time of need is a violation of this duty.
Breach of duty results in demotion, reassignment, or removal.
ROYAL STATUTE V: Oaths and Violations Thereof
Any oath sworn before the Crown, by system or ceremony, binds the speaker in allegiance and conduct.
Breaking an oath of office, protection, or nobility without lawful renunciation or sovereign consent shall incur systemic penalty and social consequence.
Oathbreaking is marked in the Officer Registry and subject to banishment or mark of dishonor.
Ethan reviewed the last law, then added a line by his own hand:
"Let no one wear the seal of Arcadia unless they carry its weight."
He turned to Kaelin.
"Ready the cadets. These laws will be sworn to—by everyone."
SYSTEM UPDATE: ROYAL LAWS ENTERED INTO RECORD
The Royal Protocol Codex has been activated.
Visibility: All system-connected officers and summoned personnel
Realm Morality Tier Increased: +1Civic Trust Modifier: +3%
Sovereign Approval Rating: Risen among all divisions
Note: Royal Laws apply equally to the Sovereign unless overridden by Tribunal.
Evelyn exhaled. "They can see it now. Every officer. Every dispatcher. Every protector."
"And they'll hold me to it," Ethan said, setting the sealed codex into the vault binder. "That's the point."
Elira placed one hand on the table. "Then we have something stronger than weapons now."
Amara smiled faintly. "You have accountability. That's rarer than gold in any world."
Segment 3: The Royal Officer Registry
"To be trusted with a weapon," Ethan said, standing at the summit of the Academy's central hall, "you must first be trusted with a name."
The crowd below—officers, cadets, commanders, and dispatchers alike—stood in silence.
Today was not a graduation. It was a reckoning.
And the system was watching.
The moment Ethan activated the Governance Interface, a new construct unfolded in radiant light. An obelisk-shaped terminal shimmered into being in the center of the plaza, crystal veined with realmstone. A prompt hovered before him:
Activate: ROYAL OFFICER REGISTRY
Purpose: Formal registry for all sworn public safety personnel
Functions:
— Oath Verification
— Division Assignment
— Station Code Linkage
— Summon ID Binding
— Realm Authorization Synchronization
This registry will bind all officers, Earth-born or native, to the system's record of allegiance and conduct.
Proceed?
Ethan pressed YES.
A pulse radiated from the monument. The system glowed across every registered badge and wrist crystal in the capital.
Royal Officer Registry: LIVE
Constable Rowan Hale was the first to step forward, alongside Kaelin, Elira, and Officer Merin. Hale carried a leather-bound ledger and the first formatted call sign blueprint.
"The moment an officer steps into service," Hale said, voice steady, "they leave behind anonymity. Not to lose themselves—but to be accountable."
He raised a chalk stick and wrote across the slate board mounted next to the obelisk.
CALL SIGN FORMAT – Arcadian Standard
[Station Code] - [Division Prefix] - [Rank Designation] - [Officer Serial]
Example: HQ-ART-SGT-00417(Crownstead HQ, Royal Troopers Division, Sergeant, Serial 417)
Below the format, Evelyn added the station list:
HQ – Crownstead Public Safety Headquarters
ST1 – West Sector Station
ST2 – South Sector Station
Divisions were standardized across the Arcadia Department of Public Safety:
ART – Arcadia Royal Troopers
ARF – Arcadia Royal Firefighters
ARM – Arcadia Royal Medics
ARC – Arcadia Royal Communications
Kaelin helped define the serial structure:
5 digits for constables, medics, and firefighters
4 digits for sergeants
3 digits for lieutenants and above
2 digits reserved for command staff and sovereign appointees
Each officer then stepped forward.
One by one, they placed their hand on the glowing terminal. Their badge ignited with a white-blue pulse as the system responded.
IDENTITY VERIFIED
Summon ID: 0073-TRK-112
Name: Constable Rowan Hale
Rank: Sergeant
Division: ART
Station Code: HQ
CALL SIGN ASSIGNED: HQ-ART-SGT-00417
Badge Authenticated. Realm Signature Bound.
The silver crown emblem shimmered faintly on Hale's shoulder as the protocol-linked badge synced fully with the officer registry.
The process repeated again and again.
Officer Merin.
Medic Vire.
Dispatcher Evelyn Croft.
Cadet Trask.
Even Elira Dorne stepped forward, though her call sign appeared simply as:
HQ-ART-CMD-02
Realm Enforcement Authority — Command Grade
By mid-afternoon, every sworn officer had their identity entered into the registry.
Station rosters updated. Shift rolls locked.
Summon IDs, once ephemeral system tags, were now embedded into living service records visible to authorized personnel.
Evelyn finalized the data into the first registry roll:
THE ROYAL OFFICER REGISTRY, VOL. I
A record of those who swore not to the throne, but to the realm.
Bound by oath. Marked by duty.
Registry Count: 143
Realm Status: Active Duty
At sunset, Ethan stood before the completed registry monument and pressed his own palm to the stone.
The system paused.
Sovereign Identity — Confirmed
Would you like to register the Realm's highest enforcement number?
He hesitated for only a breath.
HQ-ART-SOV-01
A subtle glow passed through the city.
All across Crownstead, posted at each of the three police buildings, small realmstone plaques embedded in the entry arches illuminated for the first time:
THIS STATION IS MANNED BY SWORN OFFICERS OF THE REALM.
Registered under Crown Protocol. Trained under Sentinel Doctrine.
In Vigil We Serve.
And with that, the anonymous days of patrol were over.
Now, every protector bore a name. A number. A record. And a choice.
Segment 4: The Council of Allegiants
Castle Bayhalden stood with a solemn majesty along the western rise, its ancient stone walls now freshly fortified with summoned realmstone and etched with the crests of each ward that had formally declared loyalty to the Sovereign. A high chamber in its Grand Hall had been prepared with ceremonial care—banners of each noble house and city ward lining the columns, their symbols softly swaying in a breeze that came not from a window, but from the weight of history being made.
This was no festival. No display.
This was The Council of Allegiants.
A summoning not of warriors, but of witnesses.
Nobles, ward stewards, and officer delegates arrived in uniformed order, each one bearing the official sigil of their title: gold-trimmed for nobility, navy for stewards, and silver-etched badges for officers of the Crown. They were greeted not by fanfare—but by the Oathkeeper Scribes of Wellsend, their white robes trimmed in obsidian thread, eyes bound by silks marked with celestial runes.
At the center of the room stood Ethan.
He wore the Crown, yes—but no scepter. No robe. Just the formal tunic of the Arcadian Sovereign and a polished badge of state pinned near his heart.
Elira stood at his right.
Sir Alan and Amara flanked a tribunal table to the left.
Kaelin and Hale stood nearby, representing the oathbound protectors.
A crystal quill floated above an open scroll—the Register of the Realmbound—and shimmered softly with waiting power.
The lead Oathkeeper, a calm-voiced figure known only as Merrit of Wellsend, raised a hand.
"Who comes first to bind themselves to the Crown and Realm?"
House by house, ward by ward, they stepped forward.
Lord Thandrel of Westmarch, whose sigil bore the black stag and scarlet moon, knelt before the dais.
"I swear upon my name, my seal, and my soul to uphold the Crown's Law, defend the Realm's peace, and serve the Sovereign with counsel, clarity, and loyalty."
The quill flared with white-blue light and etched his name across the parchment in glowing ink. It shimmered, then dimmed softly—locked, alive.
Then came Lady Issel of Easthold, steward of the river ports. Her words were fewer, but steadier.
"I swear fealty to the Realm. Let Arcadia rise not by rule, but by right."
One by one, each noble repeated the rite.
None faltered.
Then it was the officers' turn.
Constable Hale stood tall, flanked by senior troopers, fire officers, and medics—all in uniform, all bearing Realm-verified call signs.
"We who wear the mark of service," Hale said, "swear to protect the Realm's people, uphold the Royal Laws, and act without bias, fear, or favor."
Kaelin stepped beside him, reciting the final line of the Protector's Oath:
"Let our shields break before the law does."
As each officer placed a hand upon the registry's ledger, the ink shone once more—glowing only if their vow was true.
Of the sixty summoned, two were refused by the quill—silent, unmoving.
They stepped back.
No punishment. No shame.
But no oath, and no post.
When the last name was recorded, Merrit raised their hand again.
"By will and witness, the Realm now holds sworn allegiance from noble blood and oathbound protector alike."
Ethan stepped forward.
"These oaths bind not loyalty to me—but to Arcadia. To its people. Its peace. Its promise."
He closed the registry scroll with his hand.
"So long as this record remains unbroken," he said, "so too shall our Realm."
The glow dimmed.
The vows stood.
And the Council of Allegiants was sealed into the living memory of Arcadia.
Segment 5: Formation of the Royal Officer Registry
Atop a dais flanked by banners bearing the Crown's Vigil Sigil, Ethan stood before the assembled council once more. This time, the chamber wasn't filled with noble crests or ceremonial oaths. It was filled with records.
Scrolls. Ledgers. Sigil-etched ID plates. And hovering above them all, the Sovereign Interface displayed the next piece of Arcadia's expanding infrastructure.
System Protocol Expansion: ROYAL OFFICER REGISTRY [Phase II]
Scope: Realm-Wide
Integrated Capabilities:
— Officer Identity & Call Sign Binding
— Training Certification Logs
— Conduct & Disciplinary Records
— Commendation History
— Rank & Division Assignment Tracker
— Collar Number Allocation
— Oath Verification & Violation Index
Query Enabled Across: DPS, Tribunal Archives, Noble Warden Seals
Would you like to designate a Crown Authority Recordmaster?
Ethan nodded and raised his voice to the council.
"The time has come not only to swear loyalty," he said, "but to account for it."
He turned to the tribunal side of the room, where Sir Alan stood beside a set of clerical advisors from the Crown's Archivist Guild.
"I call upon Galen Marren of Westgrove," Ethan declared, "to serve as Master Clerk of the Crown's Ledger. His duty is to safeguard the records of all protectors—summoned and born of Arcadia alike."
Galen, a middle-aged man with precise features and a voice as steady as a metronome, bowed and approached the terminal. The system flared.
Master Clerk Authority Assigned
— Registry Custodian Access: Enabled
— Tribunal Reporting Link: Active
— Breach Detection Parameters: Set to Sovereign Sensitivity
The crystal obelisk—once a mere verification column—now expanded in size and complexity. It rotated slowly, locking in three overlapping tiers:
Identification Layer: Summon ID, oath date, call sign, collar number
Service Record Layer: Division, training site, commendations, shift assignment
Judicial Layer: Misconduct logs, demotion hearings, discharge rulings
Evelyn reviewed the system's projection quietly. "This isn't just a roster anymore. It's a living archive."
Kaelin stood nearby with the first cadet roster in hand. "And a standard every name on it will have to live up to."
Behind them, the Academy's outer board was updated with a newly cast bronze plate:
ROYAL OFFICER REGISTRY
To wear the badge is to carry the weight of this record.
Each oath logged. Each action witnessed. Each protector named.
Tampering, falsification, or unauthorized erasure of any record is hereby deemed High Treason against the Realm.
The words weren't gilded.
They were engraved.
Later that night, Galen Marren walked the perimeter of the Academy's administrative wing. He passed each ledger shelf, one finger brushing the edge of every book, every stone-carved scroll, every oath inscribed in arcane-verified ink.
Behind him, the Registry's arcane matrix pulsed in a steady, guarded rhythm.
Unseen, but ever present.
Like the law itself.
Segment 6: The First Officer's Court
The tribunal square had never been used before.
Its stone benches were clean, its emblems unscorched by fire or protest. Yet the silence that filled it was thick with anticipation—as if the Realm itself held its breath.
At the top of the plaza steps, flanked by twin banners of the Crown's Vigil, Ethan stood with calm conviction. He wore no ceremonial armor, no gilded cloak—just the Sovereign's court uniform and the silver badge of state over his heart.
Beside him, seated behind the long arch stone bench, were the two summoned justices: Sir Alan Warrick and Amara Belyan. On the dais below, the accused stood in restrained silence—three guards bearing the insignia of House Caerdon, a lesser noble family from the Southbank boundary.
They had struck a civilian without cause.
They had attempted to invoke noble privilege.
They had broken their oaths.
And now, they stood beneath the crest of the Royal Codex, awaiting judgment under the newly sworn laws of Arcadia.
"The facts," Sir Alan began, "are not in question. The defendants were witnessed forcibly detaining a farmer over a property line dispute—one they had no jurisdiction to enforce. The farmer was injured. No weapon was drawn against them. No threat made."
He paused, eyes narrowing.
"The guards invoked the protection of noble rank and denied the jurisdiction of Crown law."
Gasps and murmurs echoed through the assembled crowd—nobles, officers, cadets, and citizens alike.
Amara Belyan rose.
"These men swore oaths. Their signatures glow in the Registry. Their division was logged, their conduct bound to statute. There is no clause—none—that excuses oathbreaking under the banner of noble entitlement."
Ethan stood last.
He looked at the accused—not with malice, but with certainty.
"You may wear the armor of a house," he said, "but you swore to the Realm. And the Realm is not a title. It is a trust."
He turned toward the crowd.
"These laws bind me. They bind my officers. They bind my friends, my kin, and my Crown. If they do not bind you, then they bind no one."
The silence deepened.
Ethan raised a hand toward the system.
Verdict: GUILTY – Oath Violation, Misuse of Authority
Sentence:— Immediate dismissal from official station— Stripped of rank and badge— Marked as Disavowed in the Royal Officer Registry— Barred from reentry into civic service or private guard ranks for a term of five years
Penalty enforced by order of the Sovereign, under Royal Statute IV and V
As the ruling was spoken, the system flared briefly over the heads of the three men. Their badges dimmed. Their call signs deactivated. And a faint black line appeared across their registry listing.
A mark of record—not of vengeance.
Of consequence.
The guards were escorted out in silence.
No chains.
Just disgrace.
As the square emptied, no cheers rang out. No jeers followed.
Only heads bowed.
And for the first time, the people of Arcadia—noble and commoner alike—understood:
The King would not suffer betrayal.
Not in war.
Not in silence.
And not in uniform.