10-26-2021, 03:20 AM
Great Hall of the Tlatoani
Necuatexi Palace
Necuatexi, Necatli region
Huacue, the leader of the Necatli, leaned back in his throne as he listened to two of his citizens arguing. It was the customary hour of the day where citizens who had requested to resolve a dispute before the tlatoani were heard. Huacue found it the most annoying part of his job. More often than not, they were trivial disputes that adults should be able to resolve just fine on their own without his intervention. But tradition was tradition.
As one of the two men in front of him was about to launch into yet another long-winded explanation of his position, the doors to the hall swung open. A loud murmuring could be heard, as four people walked towards the throne. Huacue waved the two citizens in front of him into silence, and his guards abruptly moved them to the side as the quartet approached. “Ah, Nenalinche,” he said to the woman leading the group forward. “While I always enjoy visits, this is a bit of a busy time as I am in the middle of citizens’ pleadings. How can I help the esteemed prosecutor?” he said, with a slight tone of sarcasm.
Nenalinche, the Chief Prosecutor of the SIPS for the Necuatexi Region, stopped in front of him. “You can help me by disarming yourself, and stepping down from your throne. You are under arrest.”
Huacue laughed. “You’re joking, right?”
“I do not joke,” Nenalinche replied. “You stand accused of ordering the commission of a war crime during the civil war. To wit, the execution of an unarmed Imperial Army commander who had surrendered to you on October 11th, 2020." Nenalinche’s assistant handed Huacue a folder containing the accusations against him. “We have both video evidence, and signed confessions from the two people you ordered to carry out the execution. As such, we have more than enough evidence to enforce this warrant and compel your arrest to stand trial before the CNR.”
Huacue looked at the folder, disbelief written across his face. “I do not admit to anything. But if this man was an Imperial soldier, he was undoubtedly guilty of committing war crimes and atrocities of his own against my people.”
“An extrajudicial execution of an unarmed and unresisting combatant, regardless of his own crimes, is not justifiable. It is, in fact, the textbook definition of a war crime. And well within our power to prosecute. If you agree to leave with us peacefully, we will not submit you to the indignity of being handcuffed before your court and led out in chains. But you will come with us now, one way or another.” Nenalinche’s face was stone.
Huacue shook his head. “I am the leader of the Necatli people and a member of the Chamber of Executives. I dispute that you have the authority to arrest me, prosecutor.”
Nenalinche raised an eyebrow. "Ayak ka akopa in nauatili, ok se tlatoani."
No one is above the law, even a ruler.
Huacue laughed to himself. "The law. Justice. Don't try to insult our intelligence. This is Texōccoatl's doing. I forced his mother to step down, and now he sends his dogs after me."
Nenalinche's face somehow managed to turn even stonier. "The SIPS does not indulge in political vendettas. We enforce justice, whether criminals recognize it or not. Will you comply voluntarily, or will we be forced to compel your compliance?"
The crowd in the Great Hall began to murmur angrily, but Huacue waved them to silence. "I would never refuse to comply with the esteemed officials of the CNR," he said in a tone only slightly tinged with sarcasm. "We all serve Huenya, after all, don't we?" The Necatli leader turned to his son, Macochu. "You will hold the seat of Speaker in my absence. Ensure you do so with diligence." Macochu nodded wordlessly, as Huacue laid the ceremonial regalia of his office on the seat of his throne. With a slight smile, he turned to walk out of the Great Hall, Nenalinche and her escorts following him.
Necuatexi Palace
Necuatexi, Necatli region
Huacue, the leader of the Necatli, leaned back in his throne as he listened to two of his citizens arguing. It was the customary hour of the day where citizens who had requested to resolve a dispute before the tlatoani were heard. Huacue found it the most annoying part of his job. More often than not, they were trivial disputes that adults should be able to resolve just fine on their own without his intervention. But tradition was tradition.
As one of the two men in front of him was about to launch into yet another long-winded explanation of his position, the doors to the hall swung open. A loud murmuring could be heard, as four people walked towards the throne. Huacue waved the two citizens in front of him into silence, and his guards abruptly moved them to the side as the quartet approached. “Ah, Nenalinche,” he said to the woman leading the group forward. “While I always enjoy visits, this is a bit of a busy time as I am in the middle of citizens’ pleadings. How can I help the esteemed prosecutor?” he said, with a slight tone of sarcasm.
Nenalinche, the Chief Prosecutor of the SIPS for the Necuatexi Region, stopped in front of him. “You can help me by disarming yourself, and stepping down from your throne. You are under arrest.”
Huacue laughed. “You’re joking, right?”
“I do not joke,” Nenalinche replied. “You stand accused of ordering the commission of a war crime during the civil war. To wit, the execution of an unarmed Imperial Army commander who had surrendered to you on October 11th, 2020." Nenalinche’s assistant handed Huacue a folder containing the accusations against him. “We have both video evidence, and signed confessions from the two people you ordered to carry out the execution. As such, we have more than enough evidence to enforce this warrant and compel your arrest to stand trial before the CNR.”
Huacue looked at the folder, disbelief written across his face. “I do not admit to anything. But if this man was an Imperial soldier, he was undoubtedly guilty of committing war crimes and atrocities of his own against my people.”
“An extrajudicial execution of an unarmed and unresisting combatant, regardless of his own crimes, is not justifiable. It is, in fact, the textbook definition of a war crime. And well within our power to prosecute. If you agree to leave with us peacefully, we will not submit you to the indignity of being handcuffed before your court and led out in chains. But you will come with us now, one way or another.” Nenalinche’s face was stone.
Huacue shook his head. “I am the leader of the Necatli people and a member of the Chamber of Executives. I dispute that you have the authority to arrest me, prosecutor.”
Nenalinche raised an eyebrow. "Ayak ka akopa in nauatili, ok se tlatoani."
No one is above the law, even a ruler.
Huacue laughed to himself. "The law. Justice. Don't try to insult our intelligence. This is Texōccoatl's doing. I forced his mother to step down, and now he sends his dogs after me."
Nenalinche's face somehow managed to turn even stonier. "The SIPS does not indulge in political vendettas. We enforce justice, whether criminals recognize it or not. Will you comply voluntarily, or will we be forced to compel your compliance?"
The crowd in the Great Hall began to murmur angrily, but Huacue waved them to silence. "I would never refuse to comply with the esteemed officials of the CNR," he said in a tone only slightly tinged with sarcasm. "We all serve Huenya, after all, don't we?" The Necatli leader turned to his son, Macochu. "You will hold the seat of Speaker in my absence. Ensure you do so with diligence." Macochu nodded wordlessly, as Huacue laid the ceremonial regalia of his office on the seat of his throne. With a slight smile, he turned to walk out of the Great Hall, Nenalinche and her escorts following him.
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