Powder and Parchment

TITLE: GALLOWSMERE COVENANT

EPISODE 2: “DEAD MAN ON THE STAND”

Genre: Historical Western Fantasy

Written by: [Episode Script]

---

### TEASER

#### EXT. GALLOWSMERE - DAWN

A border boomtown crouched in dust and smoke. New boards nailed over old scars. Miners and drifters already moving like ants.

At the center: the HANGING OAK—ancient, vast, its branches knotted like fists. A noose still hangs, swaying slightly with no wind.

Under it: a ROUGH COURT PLATFORM. A few benches. A rail. A place where the town pretends it’s civilized.

Marshal IONE KITT stands in the cool dawn. Hard-eyed. Unromantic. A woman who’s slept in her boots more nights than not.

Deputy ELI BARNES (early 20s, too earnest for this town) approaches, hat in hand.

#### ELI

You been out here since before light.

IONE doesn’t answer. She watches the oak.

A distant CREAK—like rope tensioning—though the noose doesn’t move.

#### ELI (CONT’D)

Folks are saying it’ll happen again.

IONE turns on him.

#### IONE

Folks say lots. Folks said the railroad would come. Folks said we’d get rain.

She steps closer to the trunk. A carved scar in the bark—old letters half-swallowed.

#### ELI

You think it’s a trick.

#### IONE

I think it’s a town that learned it can outsource its conscience to a tree.

Eli looks past her—workers building something new across the square.

A raised dais. Cleaner lumber. A painted sign being lifted into place:

#### ELI

They’re building it right in front of God and everybody.

IONE watches as well. A man directs the work with gloved hands—LORD-PROSPECTOR RODERIC VALE, early 30s, well-dressed despite the dust. He doesn’t look at Ione, but he knows she’s there.

#### ELI (CONT’D)

You going to stop him?

IONE’s jaw tightens.

#### IONE

I’m going to hold a trial.

Eli blinks.

#### ELI

Another one?

A controlled one.

Eli follows her gaze back to the oak.

#### ELI

And if the dead speak—

#### IONE

Then we listen.

A beat.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

And if they don’t… we’ll know who benefits.

The oak CREAKS again—deeper, almost like a low laugh.

Ione lays her palm against the bark. The roughness bites her skin.

She looks up at the noose.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

Let’s see what you want.

SMASH CUT TO—

---

### MAIN TITLES

---

### ACT ONE

#### INT. MARSHAL’S OFFICE - MORNING

A cramped room. Wanted posters. A battered desk. A rifle on the wall.

IONE writes on a legal pad. Her handwriting is neat, relentless.

On the desk: a sealed evidence bag containing a BLOODIED SILVER BUTTON.

Eli stands by, reading the town’s notice board sheets.

#### ELI

You’re really doing this. Another trial under the oak.

#### IONE

Not “another.” A test.

She slides a paper toward him.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

Post this. Noon. Everyone.

Eli reads.

#### ELI

“Trial of People v. Cyrus Pemm.” That’s the drifter you picked up for—

#### IONE

Stealing. Assaulting. Threatening a witness. Enough to hang him twice in this town.

Eli hesitates.

#### ELI

Marshal… he didn’t kill anyone.

Ione stands, crosses to the barred window. Outside, town life churns. The new court is still being built.

#### IONE

Exactly.

She turns back, eyes flat.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

If the oak only wakes for murder, we learn that. If it wakes for any judgment, we learn that too.

She opens a drawer—pulls out a small cloth bundle. Unwraps it.

Inside: a short length of ROPE, singed at one end.

Eli stares.

#### ELI

Where’d you get—

#### IONE

From the platform. After yesterday.

She drops it back in the cloth.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

Post it.

Eli takes the notice and heads out.

Ione sits. Stares at the button.

A KNOCK.

Before she can answer, SISTER MAERYN CROWE enters. Early 30s. Severe habit altered for frontier practicality—black dress, travel-worn cloak, a plain iron cross at her throat.

Her eyes don’t wander. They land on Ione like an accusation.

#### MAERYN

You’re calling another trial.

#### IONE

Morning to you too, Sister.

Maeryn steps in fully, shuts the door behind her.

#### MAERYN

You don’t understand what you’re touching.

#### IONE

I understand a corpse spoke.

Maeryn’s gaze flicks to the rope bundle in the drawer—she shouldn’t be able to see it, but somehow she does.

#### MAERYN

The oak didn’t “speak.” It compelled testimony.

#### IONE

That’s speaking.

Maeryn leans in, lowering her voice.

#### MAERYN

No. Speaking implies choice.

Ione studies her.

#### IONE

You were there. When the dead man talked. You looked… like you’d seen a ghost you recognized.

Maeryn doesn’t blink.

#### MAERYN

My order keeps records. Old ones. Of places where vows were bound into living wood.

Ione’s expression hardens, wary.

#### IONE

And Gallowsmere’s one of them.

Maeryn nods once.

#### MAERYN

You think you’re holding a trial. The oak thinks it’s renewing a covenant.

Ione stands.

#### IONE

This town needs justice more than it needs superstition.

Maeryn’s calm is colder than anger.

#### MAERYN

Justice is not what that tree was made for.

Ione steps closer—two women used to standing their ground.

#### IONE

Then tell me what it was made for.

Maeryn’s eyes flick down, then up, like weighing sin.

#### MAERYN

To bind history to a verdict. To make truth enforceable.

A beat.

#### MAERYN (CONT’D)

And enforceable truth becomes tyranny, Marshal. Even if it wears your badge.

Before Ione can respond, a distant HAMMERING outside. The new court.

Maeryn’s gaze shifts toward the sound.

#### MAERYN (CONT’D)

Vale is building an altar of his own.

Ione’s jaw tight.

#### IONE

I’m aware.

#### MAERYN

He’s not afraid of the oak. He’s afraid of you controlling it.

Ione’s eyes flick to the button again.

#### IONE

Everyone’s afraid of someone.

Maeryn moves for the door.

#### MAERYN

If you insist on testing the oak… do it with reverence. Or it will teach you reverence with pain.

She exits.

Ione stands alone, the office suddenly too small.

Outside: a HOLLOW THUD, like a gavel being tested on fresh wood.

---

#### EXT. GALLOWSMERE MAIN STREET - MORNING

RODERIC VALE surveys the new platform. He’s polished but not delicate—frontier polish, the kind bought with money and enforced with guns.

Beside him, his clerk, SIMEON QUILL (40s), holds papers and a ledger like scripture.

#### SIMEON

Signage goes up within the hour. The benches are arriving from the mill.

#### VALE

Good. Make it look permanent. People obey what looks like it will outlast them.

He watches townsfolk glance between the oak platform and his rising court.

#### SIMEON

Marshal Kitt’s posted notice. Another trial under the oak at noon.

Vale’s mouth curls—almost admiration.

#### VALE

She’s smart enough to test a miracle.

#### SIMEON

And if it performs again?

Vale looks at the oak. The hanging noose. The shadow it throws like a long finger.

#### VALE

Then we make sure the miracle can be scheduled.

Simeon hesitates.

#### SIMEON

How?

Vale’s gaze is steady.

#### VALE

By giving the town a choice.

He taps the fresh timber.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

Her court is rope and rumor. Mine is paper. Ink. Seals.

He takes a parchment from Simeon—heavy, embossed.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

When the dead speak, people panic. They want someone to translate. Someone respectable.

He hands the parchment back.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

Make sure the first case in the Charter Court is something small. A property dispute. Familiar.

Simeon nods, scribbles.

Vale’s eyes narrow as he sees Sister Maeryn crossing the street toward the chapel.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

And find out what the Sister knows about that tree.

Simeon looks uneasy.

#### SIMEON

She’s church.

#### VALE

So was the last man who tried to buy me out.

Vale walks off, boots clean despite the mud.

---

#### INT. SALOON - LATE MORNING

Low light. Whiskey. Breath and smoke.

CYRUS PEMM (late 20s, wiry, bruised) sits with cuffs at a table, flanked by Deputy Eli and another DEPUTY.

Cyrus grins like he’s been invited to his own party.

#### CYRUS

You sure I get a trial? Thought Gallowsmere just strings folks up and calls it weather.

Eli ignores him, checks the cuffs.

#### ELI

You’ll speak when asked.

Cyrus leans closer.

#### CYRUS

You’re scared of that tree, ain’t you? Everyone’s scared. Except me.

Eli’s hand tightens on the cuffs.

#### ELI

You should be.

At the bar, patrons murmur—talk of yesterday’s corpse testimony spreading like fever.

A MINER with a bandaged hand speaks to a PROSTITUTE in a feathered hat.

#### MINER

I saw it. Dead man’s mouth moved like he still had breath.

#### PROSTITUTE

And did he tell the truth?

#### MINER

He told what the tree wanted.

The saloon doors swing open.

Ser JORYN BLACKSPOKE enters—late 30s, broad-shouldered, weathered like iron left in rain. His coat is frontier dust, but his posture is old-world—trained. A sword hilt peeks beneath his coat.

Heads turn. Silence pools around him.

He approaches the bar. Doesn’t drink.

The bartender eyes him.

#### BARTENDER

We don’t serve—

Joryn drops a coin. Not local. Stamped with a crown and thorn motif.

#### JORYN

Water.

The bartender pours.

Joryn scans the room, his gaze landing on Cyrus in cuffs. Then Eli. Then—toward the window, where the oak’s branches are visible.

His eyes harden with recognition and distaste.

---

#### EXT. HANGING OAK PLATFORM - NOON

The town gathers—miners, ranchers, gamblers, church women. Even children, held back by mothers who shouldn’t be here but can’t stop watching.

Under the oak: Ione’s rough court. The same platform as yesterday, repaired and scrubbed but still stained in places you can’t scrub.

The noose hangs.

Ione stands as judge, badge catching sunlight. A shotgun rests within reach against the rail.

Eli brings Cyrus forward.

Across the square, VALE’S CHARTER COURT gleams with fresh wood and painted trim. Vale stands on it like a lord on a balcony, observing.

Simeon beside him, ledger open.

Ione sees them. Doesn’t react.

#### IONE

This is the trial of the People of Gallowsmere versus Cyrus Pemm.

Murmurs.

Cyrus bows theatrically.

#### CYRUS

Your honor.

Ione ignores the mockery.

#### IONE

Charges: theft of property, assault on Mr. Hadley Finch, and intimidation of a witness.

She nods to the assaulted man—HADLEY FINCH (50s), a shopkeeper with a swollen cheek, steps forward.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

Mr. Finch. State what happened.

Hadley swallows, eyes flicking to the oak, then away.

#### HADLEY

He—he came into my store. Took a bolt of cloth. When I told him to pay, he hit me. Said if I talked he’d—

Cyrus laughs.

#### CYRUS

I said if you lied I’d come back.

Hadley bristles.

#### HADLEY

You had a knife!

Cyrus shrugs.

#### CYRUS

Everyone’s got a knife.

Ione’s gaze is steady.

#### IONE

Deputy Barnes, present evidence.

Eli holds up the bloodied silver button.

#### ELI

Found on Mr. Pemm when we arrested him. Mr. Finch identified it as belonging to his coat—ripped during the assault.

Cyrus leans forward.

#### CYRUS

That button? That’s mine. I picked it up in the street.

A ripple of laughter—nervous.

Ione looks to the oak. Then back to Cyrus.

#### IONE

You plead not guilty.

#### CYRUS

I plead hungry.

Murmurs. Someone spits.

Ione’s eyes sweep the crowd.

#### IONE

This town witnessed something yesterday that unsettled it.

Vale watches, amused.

Maeryn stands at the edge of the crowd, hood up.

Joryn lingers near the saloon side, half-shadowed.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

We will proceed by law. Not rumor.

She turns back to Cyrus.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

Cyrus Pemm. If found guilty, sentence will be—

She pauses. The crowd leans in.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

—ten days in the stockade and restitution.

A reaction—some disappointed, some relieved.

Vale’s eyebrow lifts: she’s refusing spectacle.

Cyrus smirks.

#### CYRUS

That’s it? I’ve had worse hangovers.

Ione continues.

#### IONE

However—given the… peculiar circumstances of this court’s location—

Her eyes flick to the oak.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

—I will ask for testimony in accordance with what occurred yesterday.

A hush.

Eli shifts, uneasy.

Hadley looks terrified.

#### HADLEY

Marshal… don’t.

Ione’s voice carries.

#### IONE

Mr. Finch. Stand beneath the oak. Speak your statement again.

Hadley balks.

#### HADLEY

Why? I already—

Ione’s stare leaves no room for refusal.

Hadley steps forward, under the branches. The shadow cools him.

He clears his throat.

#### HADLEY (CONT’D)

He took my cloth. He hit me. He threatened me.

Nothing happens.

A beat.

People exhale—some laugh with relief.

Vale’s gaze sharpens: disappointment, calculation.

Ione watches the oak—silent.

She turns to Cyrus.

#### IONE

Cyrus Pemm. Step beneath the oak.

Cyrus grins wider.

#### CYRUS

Finally. Tree wants to meet me.

He steps under.

The oak’s leaves rustle—though there is no wind.

Maeryn stiffens.

Joryn’s hand moves, unconsciously, toward the sword hilt.

Ione watches Cyrus, not the tree.

#### IONE

Repeat your claim. You say you did not steal. You did not assault. You did not threaten.

Cyrus spreads his arms, playing to the crowd.

#### CYRUS

I did not steal. I did not assault. I did not threaten.

A faint CREAK from the rope.

Then—

CYRUS’S MOUTH MOVES again, but his eyes widen with sudden fear—like something has grabbed his tongue from behind.

His voice changes—not in tone, but in certainty. Forced, flat, compelled.

#### CYRUS (CONT’D)

I took the cloth. I hit him because he grabbed my sleeve. I told him I’d cut his wife if he spoke.

Gasps. Hadley staggers back, horrified.

Cyrus fights his own jaw, hands clawing at his throat.

#### CYRUS (CONT’D)

Stop— STOP—

But the words keep coming, pulled out of him.

#### CYRUS (CONT’D)

I stole from three stores in two days. I lied to the marshal. I planned to leave tonight.

Silence—thick, stunned.

Ione’s face is stone, but her eyes flash: confirmation, dread.

Vale’s posture straightens—he’s watching a resource reveal itself.

Maeryn whispers under her breath, a prayer or warning.

#### MAERYN

Binding. Binding…

Cyrus collapses to his knees, gagging like he’s swallowed a hook.

Ione steps forward, crouches.

#### IONE

Cyrus. Look at me.

His eyes are wet, furious, terrified.

#### CYRUS

It—made me.

Ione stands, addresses the crowd.

#### IONE

The oak compels confession.

A murmur surges—fear and hunger.

Ione raises a hand for quiet.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

This court will not be a carnival. Sentence stands. Ten days, restitution.

The crowd erupts—some angry she didn’t hang him, some grateful, all unsettled.

Vale smiles slightly: she’s trying to contain it. Containment makes pressure.

A voice from the crowd—LOUD, wealthy, impatient.

It’s BARON DAX HOLLEN (40s), a cattle baron passing through, flanked by armed MEN.

#### HOLLEN

What good is a truth-tree if you ain’t gonna use it?

People turn. Ione’s eyes lock on him.

#### IONE

This is my town.

Hollen steps closer, smirking.

#### HOLLEN

No, Marshal. It’s a border. Borders belong to whoever can write the paper or fire the gun.

He gestures toward Vale’s shiny platform.

#### HOLLEN (CONT’D)

Seems like Mr. Vale’s got both.

Ione holds Hollen’s gaze.

#### IONE

Get out of my court.

Hollen chuckles, backs away, but his eyes promise return.

Eli hauls Cyrus up.

Cyrus looks back at the oak with hatred.

#### CYRUS

Burn it.

Ione’s eyes flick to Maeryn—who looks like she’s heard that before.

---

### ACT TWO

#### INT. STOCKADE - AFTERNOON

Cyrus is shoved into a cell. He paces like a caged animal.

Eli locks the door. Ione stands outside, watching.

#### CYRUS

You happy? Got your proof? Tree’s a judge now?

Ione doesn’t rise to it.

#### IONE

The oak compelled you. That’s all I know.

Cyrus grips the bars.

#### CYRUS

It ain’t “all.” It’s a weapon. You’re holding it like you’re the only one can aim it.

Ione leans in, voice low.

#### IONE

If you’d spoken truth without being forced, you’d be walking free.

Cyrus laughs bitterly.

#### CYRUS

Truth don’t get you free in Gallowsmere. It gets you dead.

Ione’s gaze flicks to the corridor beyond, as if she hears something.

#### IONE

Who told you to hit Finch?

Cyrus freezes. Then scoffs.

#### CYRUS

Nobody.

Ione waits.

Cyrus leans closer, almost whispering.

#### CYRUS (CONT’D)

I heard… in the saloon… folks saying the tree woke up ‘cause of blood. So I figured—if I made trouble, maybe I’d get to see it.

He smiles, ugly.

#### CYRUS (CONT’D)

Now I seen it. Now I want out of this town.

Ione straightens.

#### IONE

You’re here ten days.

Cyrus slams the bars.

#### CYRUS

Then I’ll be dead in ten days! You don’t get it—if that oak can make me talk, it can make anyone talk. And folks won’t stop until they use it to tear each other apart.

Ione stares at him a moment—because the bastard might be right.

She turns to Eli.

#### IONE

Put a guard on him. No visitors.

Eli nods.

As Ione walks out, Cyrus calls after her.

#### CYRUS

Marshal—if the tree asks about you—what you gonna say?

Ione doesn’t turn back.

---

#### EXT. VALE CHARTER COURT - AFTERNOON

A small crowd already gathered. Curious. Drawn by fresh paint and the promise of order without dread.

A banner: CHARTER COURT OF GALLOWSMERE—EST. BY CLAIM AND COMMERCE.

Vale stands, hands clasped behind his back.

Simeon Quill reads from a document.

#### SIMEON

In the matter of Lark & Sons versus Miss Ada Brune. Dispute of boundary fence and water rights—

Simple. Domestic. Safe.

ADA BRUNE (20s), rancher’s daughter, nervous, stands opposite LARK (50s), a mean-eyed rancher.

Vale smiles like a benevolent king.

#### VALE

We are not here for spectacle. We are here for stability.

He glances, pointedly, toward the oak platform across the square where people still linger, buzzing.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

Stability is built on parchment. On predictable process.

He nods to Ada.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

Miss Brune. Speak.

Ada starts, shaky.

#### ADA

His fence is on our land. He moved it last week.

Lark interrupts.

#### LARK

Her daddy owes me. Fence is payment.

Vale raises a hand—gentle, controlling.

#### VALE

We will hear both. Then we will consult deeds and charters.

Simeon opens a ledger—thick with recorded claims.

The crowd murmurs: this feels like civilization.

From the edge, Maeryn watches, troubled.

Joryn watches too—eyes narrowed. He’s reading power, not paper.

Vale spots Maeryn, gives a polite nod. A dagger wrapped as courtesy.

Maeryn doesn’t nod back.

---

#### INT. CHAPEL - AFTERNOON

A small chapel built from salvaged boards. Sparse. A place for tired prayers.

Maeryn lights a candle. Her hands are steady, but her breathing isn’t.

Behind her, Joryn enters quietly.

Maeryn doesn’t turn.

#### MAERYN

You walk like an old soldier.

#### JORYN

And you pray like someone who expects an answer.

She turns now. Their eyes meet—two people who’ve seen older worlds than Gallowsmere.

#### MAERYN

You were at the oak.

#### JORYN

I felt it from the saloon.

Maeryn’s face tightens.

#### MAERYN

Then you know.

Joryn steps closer, lowering his voice.

#### JORYN

I know oathwood. I know binding rites. I know what it costs.

Maeryn studies him.

#### MAERYN

Costs whom?

Joryn’s mouth twitches—humorless.

#### JORYN

Everyone nearby. Eventually.

Maeryn glances toward the chapel floor—boards that don’t quite sit right, as if something beneath resists being covered.

#### MAERYN

My order has references. The covenant was designed to prevent lies from poisoning a realm.

Joryn laughs quietly.

#### JORYN

Prevent lies by strangling mouths. Very holy.

Maeryn’s eyes flash.

#### MAERYN

It was meant for kings and traitors.

Joryn leans in.

#### JORYN

And now it’s for drifters and shopkeepers.

A beat.

#### JORYN (CONT’D)

That oak wasn’t planted for a town. It was planted for a throne.

Maeryn’s throat tightens.

#### MAERYN

If that’s true, then Gallowsmere is—

#### JORYN

A staging ground.

He looks at the candle flame.

#### JORYN (CONT’D)

And the first thing a staging ground needs is a story people will die for.

Maeryn whispers.

#### MAERYN

The dead are testifying.

Joryn nods once.

#### JORYN

Soon they’ll do more than testify.

Maeryn’s eyes close briefly—prayer, dread.

#### MAERYN

Marshal Kitt thinks she can control it.

Joryn turns for the door.

#### JORYN

Then she’ll be the first one it controls.

He exits.

Maeryn stands alone with the candle—its flame bending though no draft blows.

---

#### INT. MARSHAL’S OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON

Ione sits with Eli. The bloodied button on the desk. A ledger open—town arrest records.

Eli’s face is pale.

#### ELI

He confessed like he got yanked by a chain.

Ione nods, not looking up.

#### IONE

It’s consistent with yesterday.

Eli swallows.

#### ELI

So… what now?

Ione closes the ledger.

#### IONE

Now we keep the town from turning it into sport.

Eli gestures toward the window—Vale’s court.

#### ELI

Vale’s already doing it different. Folks like different when they’re scared.

Ione stands, looks out.

Vale’s platform holds a crowd. Laughter. Relief.

Ione’s face hardens.

#### IONE

He’s building a court that doesn’t need the oak.

#### ELI

Is that bad?

Ione turns.

#### IONE

It’s bad if he’s building it so he can decide which court “counts.”

A knock.

Eli opens the door.

Simeon Quill steps in, hat in hand, polite as a knife.

#### SIMEON

Marshal Kitt. Lord-Prospector Vale requests your presence.

Ione doesn’t move.

#### IONE

He can request in writing. I’ll file it under “fire kindling.”

Simeon smiles thinly.

#### SIMEON

It is in writing.

He produces an embossed invitation—almost a summons.

Ione takes it, reads.

Her eyes flicker.

#### ELI

What is it?

Ione folds it.

#### IONE

He wants a meeting. Public. At sundown. Between courts.

Eli’s face tightens.

#### ELI

Between courts?

Ione looks past Eli to the oak’s shadow stretching longer outside.

#### IONE

He wants a show of legitimacy.

She pockets the letter.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

Fine. He’ll get one.

---

### ACT THREE

#### EXT. TOWN SQUARE - SUNSET

The sun bleeds orange through dust. Long shadows. The oak looms like a gallows-shaped god.

Two platforms face each other across packed dirt:

IONE’S OAK COURT—rough, stained, old.

VALE’S CHARTER COURT—new, painted, orderly.

The town gathers between them like a jury caught in crossfire.

Ione steps onto her platform. Eli behind her.

Across, Vale steps onto his. Simeon at his shoulder.

Maeryn stands among townsfolk, tense.

Joryn watches from near the hitching posts, hand near his coat.

Vale raises his voice—smooth, practiced.

#### VALE

Marshal Kitt. Gallowsmere is changing.

Ione’s voice is plain, carrying without flourish.

#### IONE

It changed when a dead man spoke.

Vale nods, as if conceding a point in a debate.

#### VALE

And now we must choose: will we let fear steer us, or will we build structure around what we’ve witnessed?

Ione’s gaze is direct.

#### IONE

Structure is fine. Competing authority is not.

Vale smiles.

#### VALE

Authority is earned.

He gestures broadly—inviting the crowd to witness him.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

You claim authority because you carry a badge. I claim authority because I carry investment. Because I bring law from the old world—charters, deeds, precedent.

He holds up a rolled parchment with a seal.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

This is recognition. This is legitimacy.

Ione doesn’t look impressed.

#### IONE

That paper doesn’t feed anyone. It doesn’t stop bullets. It doesn’t bury the dead.

Vale’s smile tightens.

#### VALE

No, Marshal. It owns the land those things happen on.

A murmur. People like the sound of ownership, even if they don’t have it.

Ione steps forward.

#### IONE

Your court exists to protect your stakes.

Vale’s gaze sharpens—first crack of irritation.

#### VALE

My stakes employ half this town.

Ione nods once, conceding nothing.

#### IONE

Then you should want a single law. Not two.

Vale spreads his hands, magnanimous.

#### VALE

Then join mine. Bring your badge. We’ll civilize this place together.

The crowd murmurs—tempted.

Ione’s eyes narrow.

#### IONE

And the oak?

Vale glances at the oak like it’s a problem to be managed.

#### VALE

A curiosity. A tool. Possibly dangerous. Certainly exploitable by less… disciplined minds.

His eyes flick toward the barons’ men in the crowd. Hollen stands among them, amused.

Ione’s voice drops, deadly.

#### IONE

The oak compelled a confession today.

A stir—people lean in again.

Vale’s expression is controlled.

#### VALE

So I heard.

Ione raises her voice.

#### IONE

It means the town has something no other place has: compelled truth.

Vale nods politely—as if agreeing with a sermon.

#### VALE

If it can be trusted.

Maeryn’s eyes widen—she sees where this goes.

Ione points across the square.

#### IONE

If you think it can’t… step under it. Say so.

A hush so deep even the horses seem to pause.

Vale holds Ione’s gaze.

A long beat.

Vale’s smile returns—carefully placed.

#### VALE

No.

A ripple—disappointment, respect, suspicion.

Ione doesn’t blink.

#### IONE

Why not?

Vale steps closer to the edge of his platform.

#### VALE

Because I don’t submit to folk magic to prove my sincerity.

Ione’s voice hardens.

#### IONE

Then you’re asking the town to submit to your paper without proof.

Vale’s eyes flash.

#### VALE

I’m asking the town to submit to a system. Not a tree.

He gestures to Ione’s platform.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

Your court has become a shrine. People will kill to control it.

A voice cuts through—BARON HOLLEN.

#### HOLLEN

He ain’t wrong.

Another BARONIAL MAN laughs.

Ione’s hand drifts near her gun.

Vale continues, louder now.

#### VALE

So here is my offer. For every case involving property, contracts, and claims—matters of commerce—my Charter Court will preside.

Ione’s eyes narrow.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

For crimes of violence, you may keep your oak.

A murmur—some like the split. It feels reasonable.

Ione sees the trap: he gets paper-power, she gets blood and blame.

#### IONE

You want me to be your hangman and you to be everyone’s landlord.

Vale’s smile doesn’t deny it.

#### VALE

I want Gallowsmere to function.

Maeryn steps forward from the crowd.

#### MAERYN

Both of you are speaking as if this is your choice.

All eyes turn to her.

Ione watches Maeryn carefully—she’s rarely public.

Vale’s expression is polite annoyance.

#### VALE

Sister Crowe. We respect the church, but—

Maeryn’s voice is clear, ringing.

#### MAERYN

That oak is older than your charters. Older than your badge. Older than this town’s name.

A hush.

Maeryn looks at Ione.

#### MAERYN (CONT’D)

Marshal. You asked it to compel truth. It did.

She looks at Vale.

#### MAERYN (CONT’D)

Lord-Prospector. You refuse to submit to it. That is also a choice.

Maeryn turns to the oak, voice lowering.

#### MAERYN (CONT’D)

But the covenant does not care about your politics. It binds those who judge. And those who profit from judgment.

Vale’s eyes narrow, sharp.

#### VALE

Covenant.

Maeryn meets his gaze.

#### MAERYN

An older law. One that does not ask permission.

A beat.

Hollen laughs, breaking tension.

#### HOLLEN

Churchwoman telling ghost stories. I’ll take paper over prayers any day.

He spits into the dust.

Maeryn looks at him.

#### MAERYN

Men who say that usually die by paper cuts.

Some laughter—uneasy.

Ione raises a hand.

#### IONE

Enough.

She looks to Vale.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

Your offer’s refused. One town. One law.

Vale’s eyes harden. His voice cools.

#### VALE

Then you force conflict.

Ione’s reply is immediate.

#### IONE

You brought conflict the minute you built that platform.

Vale nods once—decision made.

#### VALE

Then let Gallowsmere decide which court it trusts.

He turns to leave, then stops.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

One more thing, Marshal.

Ione waits.

Vale’s smile is thin.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

If the oak can compel truth… it can compel lies.

A ripple of confusion.

Maeryn stiffens—she knows that’s not entirely false.

Vale steps down from his platform. His men fall in.

The crowd breaks into anxious chatter as people choose where to stand—physically and spiritually.

Ione remains under the oak’s shadow, feeling its weight.

---

#### EXT. BACK ALLEY BEHIND SALOON - NIGHT

Dark. Lantern light from a back door.

Simeon Quill meets a FIGURE in a hood—one of Hollen’s men.

Simeon hands over a small pouch.

The hooded man weighs it—COINS dusted with fine gray powder.

#### HOODED MAN

This is ash.

Simeon’s voice is low.

#### SIMEON

From a place you don’t ask about.

The hooded man nods, pockets it.

#### HOODED MAN

And you’re sure it works?

Simeon hesitates just a fraction.

#### SIMEON

It convinces people it works. That’s enough.

The hooded man slips away.

Simeon watches him go, face unreadable.

Behind him, in the saloon’s back window, Joryn’s reflection appears—watching.

Simeon turns too late. No one there.

Only the distant silhouette of the oak, black against the stars.

---

### ACT FOUR

#### INT. MARSHAL’S OFFICE - NIGHT

Ione cleans her revolver with methodical calm. Eli sits opposite, fidgeting.

Outside, town noise feels louder—fractured.

#### ELI

Two courts. Two laws. This is how towns die.

Ione doesn’t look up.

#### IONE

Not if I keep people from shooting each other over paperwork.

Eli swallows.

#### ELI

And the tree?

Ione stops cleaning. Looks at him.

#### IONE

The tree doesn’t get a vote. It’s wood.

Eli doesn’t fully believe that.

A knock. Ione looks up, wary.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

Come.

Maeryn enters, face pale in lamplight.

#### MAERYN

You made him your enemy.

Ione sets the revolver down.

#### IONE

He was my enemy when he decided to buy my town.

Maeryn steps closer, lowers her voice.

#### MAERYN

You don’t understand. If there are two courts, the oak will react.

Ione’s eyes narrow.

#### IONE

React how?

Maeryn hesitates—rare uncertainty.

#### MAERYN

The covenant answers division with escalation.

Eli leans forward.

#### ELI

Escalation?

Maeryn looks between them.

#### MAERYN

More testimony. More compulsion. More dead drawn toward judgment.

Ione’s expression tightens.

#### IONE

The dead won’t climb out of the ground just because Vale writes a deed.

Maeryn’s stare is steady.

#### MAERYN

You watched a man’s mouth move against his will today. Don’t tell me what won’t happen.

A beat. The oil lamp flickers.

Ione speaks quietly.

#### IONE

What are you not telling me?

Maeryn’s jaw tightens.

#### MAERYN

There are rites that can… counterfeit authority. Mimic binding.

Ione’s eyes sharpen.

#### IONE

Like Vale’s court.

Maeryn shakes her head.

#### MAERYN

Worse. Someone could force a verdict without the oak.

Eli’s face drains.

#### ELI

How?

Maeryn’s voice drops.

#### MAERYN

With ash. With rope. With names spoken in the right order.

Ione sits back, processing.

#### IONE

You’re saying someone could make the town believe the oak has spoken… when it hasn’t.

Maeryn nods once.

#### MAERYN

And if that happens, your “controlled test” becomes a weapon in someone else’s hands.

Ione stands.

#### IONE

Who knows these rites?

Maeryn meets her gaze.

#### MAERYN

My order did.

A loaded silence.

Ione studies her—sees the weight she carries.

#### IONE

Do you still?

Maeryn’s voice is barely audible.

#### MAERYN

Enough to recognize the smell when it’s in the air.

Ione grabs her coat.

#### ELI

Where are you going?

Ione’s eyes are hard.

#### IONE

To see what Vale’s men are buying in alleys.

Maeryn steps forward.

#### MAERYN

Marshal—if you confront him now, he’ll turn it into war.

Ione opens the door.

#### IONE

Then I better get there before he does.

---

#### EXT. MAIN STREET - NIGHT

Ione walks fast, Eli trailing. Lanterns swing. Faces peek out, nervous.

They pass the oak—its noose barely visible in the dark, but present.

A faint whisper—maybe wind, maybe not.

Maeryn lingers behind, then follows at a distance.

Ahead: the saloon’s back alley.

Ione slows, signals Eli to be quiet.

They slip into shadow.

#### EXT. BACK ALLEY BEHIND SALOON - NIGHT

Empty now. Only footprints in dust. A faint gray smear near the wall.

Ione crouches, touches it.

Fine powder coats her fingertip—gray, almost silver.

Maeryn arrives, sees it, inhales sharply.

#### MAERYN

Ash.

Eli looks between them.

#### ELI

From the oak?

Maeryn’s voice is grim.

#### MAERYN

Or from something that wants to pretend it is.

A BOOTSTEP behind them.

Ione spins, gun half-drawn.

Joryn stands at the alley mouth, hands visible.

#### JORYN

You’re late.

Ione keeps her gun low but ready.

#### IONE

You stalking me, knight?

Joryn’s eyes flick to Maeryn—recognition of shared dread.

#### JORYN

I’m stalking the thing that stalks your town.

He steps forward, nods at the ash smear.

#### JORYN (CONT’D)

Someone’s harvesting binding material.

Ione’s jaw tightens.

#### IONE

Vale?

Joryn shrugs.

#### JORYN

Could be him. Could be someone using him.

Maeryn speaks, careful.

#### MAERYN

Ash taken from an oath-tree is dangerous outside ritual.

Joryn’s gaze is sharp.

#### JORYN

Dangerous is the point.

Ione stands, dusting her fingers.

#### IONE

Where would they take it?

Joryn looks toward the edge of town—dark shapes of lumberyards and the old gallows storage shed.

#### JORYN

Somewhere private. Somewhere they can practice without witnesses.

Eli swallows.

#### ELI

Practice what?

Joryn’s voice is flat.

#### JORYN

Making truth.

A beat.

Ione holsters her gun.

#### IONE

Show me.

Joryn hesitates—then nods once.

#### JORYN

You’re sure?

Ione’s answer is immediate.

#### IONE

No.

She starts walking.

Eli and Maeryn exchange a look—fear and inevitability.

They follow.

---

### ACT FIVE

#### EXT. LUMBERYARD OUTSKIRTS - NIGHT

Stacks of timber like sleeping giants. Quiet except for distant town noise.

Joryn leads them through shadows.

Ahead: an old SHED—once used to store gallows parts. Now padlocked.

A dim light leaks from cracks.

Ione signals: hold.

They creep closer.

Inside, VOICES—muffled.

Simeon Quill’s voice, recognizable.

#### SIMEON (O.S.)

Careful. Don’t waste it.

Another voice—Hollen’s man.

#### HOODED MAN (O.S.)

This better be worth the price.

Ione’s eyes narrow.

She peers through a crack.

#### INT. GALLOWS SHED - CONTINUOUS (THROUGH CRACK)

A table. A small bowl of gray ash. A strip of rope. A parchment laid flat.

Simeon sprinkles ash in a line across the parchment. The hooded man watches.

On the parchment: a rough DRAWING of the oak, and beneath it, written names.

Simeon takes the rope, ties a small loop—like a miniature noose—places it over the ash line.

He murmurs words—half prayer, half legal language.

The ash lifts slightly, as if breathing.

Eli’s face goes pale.

Maeryn’s lips move—silent prayer.

Joryn’s gaze is hard, confirming what he feared.

Back in the alley, Ione’s hand clenches.

The hooded man places a COIN on the table—ash-dusted—then another.

Simeon nods.

#### SIMEON (O.S.)

Now speak the claim.

The hooded man reads from another parchment.

#### HOODED MAN (O.S.)

By charter and right of labor, the water line from Brune Creek belongs to Lark & Sons—

The ash on the table TWITCHES. The rope loop tightens by itself.

Then—an awful SOUND: a faint choking, as if a throat somewhere is being squeezed.

Eli jolts, horrified.

#### ELI (WHISPER)

What is that?

Maeryn whispers, terrified.

#### MAERYN

A binding echo. It’s latching onto someone.

Joryn’s jaw tightens.

#### JORYN

They’re testing it on the living.

Inside, the hooded man flinches as if hearing the same choking.

#### HOODED MAN (O.S.)

What the—

Simeon grips his wrist.

#### SIMEON (O.S.)

Finish.

The hooded man continues, voice shaking.

The choking intensifies—now a distant SCREAM, muffled by walls and distance.

Ione’s face goes cold with rage.

She kicks the padlock—HARD.

The lock snaps. The door bursts inward.

---

#### INT. GALLOWS SHED - NIGHT

Chaos.

Simeon whirls, eyes wide—then quickly composed.

The hooded man reaches for a pistol.

Ione draws first.

#### IONE

Hands.

The hooded man freezes, gun half-out.

Joryn steps in behind Ione, presence like a guillotine.

Maeryn rushes to the table, sees the ash, the rope, the parchment.

The choking SCREAM continues—somewhere out in town.

Eli panics.

#### ELI

That’s— that’s coming from—

Maeryn grabs the rope loop, tries to tear it away.

It BURNS her fingers. She gasps, drops it.

Joryn moves fast—draws a small knife, slices the rope loop.

The choking sound stops abruptly—like a cord snapped.

Silence, then distant sobbing on the night air.

Maeryn breathes hard.

Ione keeps her gun trained on Simeon.

#### IONE

What the hell is this?

Simeon lifts his hands slowly.

#### SIMEON

A demonstration.

Ione’s eyes blaze.

#### IONE

Of what? How to strangle someone with paperwork?

Simeon’s mouth tightens.

#### SIMEON

Of how fragile your oak-miracle is.

Ione steps closer, gun inches from his face.

#### IONE

Who authorized this?

Simeon’s eyes flick—calculation, loyalty.

#### SIMEON

Lord-Prospector Vale invests in stability.

Ione’s voice is low.

#### IONE

You were just binding a water claim.

Simeon nods, almost proud.

#### SIMEON

Imagine binding a verdict.

Maeryn looks at the ash bowl with horror.

#### MAERYN

You’ll rupture the covenant.

Simeon glances at her, contempt thinly veiled.

#### SIMEON

Sister, covenants are contracts. Contracts can be amended.

Joryn steps forward, knife still in hand.

#### JORYN

Not without blood.

Simeon meets Joryn’s gaze, recognizing him—something old.

#### SIMEON

Ah.

A beat.

#### SIMEON (CONT’D)

So the exile lingers in our dust.

Joryn’s eyes narrow.

#### JORYN

You know me?

Simeon smiles faintly.

#### SIMEON

Enough.

Ione cuts in.

#### IONE

You’re under arrest.

Simeon’s expression doesn’t change.

#### SIMEON

For what crime? Practicing law?

Ione grabs his collar, slams him against the wall.

#### IONE

For assault by sorcery and conspiracy to undermine the marshal’s court.

Simeon coughs, smiles through it.

#### SIMEON

You don’t have a statute for that.

Ione holds him there.

#### IONE

I have a jail.

She nods to Eli.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

Cuff him.

Eli moves in, shakily cuffs Simeon.

The hooded man takes advantage—draws his pistol, fires.

The shot BLASTS wood beside Ione’s head.

Joryn moves like trained violence—he grabs the hooded man’s wrist, twists, disarms him, and drives him face-first into the table.

The ash bowl spills. Gray dust blooms in the lantern light like ghost breath.

Maeryn recoils.

The spilled ash snakes across the parchment—forming letters on its own.

IONE sees it—her stomach drops.

On the paper, in ash, a single word writes itself:

Then another:

Maeryn whispers.

#### MAERYN

It’s calling.

A wind slams the shed door half-closed. Lantern flame gutters.

From outside: the oak’s distant CREAK—like it heard its name.

Ione looks at Simeon—now afraid despite himself.

#### IONE

What did you start?

Simeon swallows.

#### SIMEON

We tested a principle.

The ash letters smear, then reform into a new phrase—shaking, insistent:

Eli stares, terrified.

#### ELI

Bring who?

Joryn’s eyes flick to Simeon.

Maeryn’s face goes white.

#### MAERYN

The covenant wants a witness… to this crime.

Ione’s voice is quiet, dangerous.

#### IONE

It wants him under the oak.

She looks at Simeon.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

And so do I.

---

### ACT SIX

#### EXT. TOWN SQUARE - NIGHT

A torchlit march.

Ione walks at the front. Eli and another deputy drag Simeon along, cuffed. The hooded man is hauled too, groaning.

Maeryn follows, clutching her burned fingers. Joryn shadows them all.

Townfolk pour out of buildings, drawn by commotion.

Vale appears at the edge of the crowd, stepping forward as he sees Simeon.

#### VALE

Marshal.

His voice is calm, but his eyes are not.

Ione doesn’t stop walking.

#### IONE

Lord-Prospector.

Vale falls into step alongside, just outside gun range.

#### VALE

Release my clerk.

Ione keeps her gaze forward.

#### IONE

He was performing binding rites with oak-ash in a gallows shed.

Vale’s jaw tightens slightly—only slightly.

#### VALE

That’s an accusation.

Maeryn speaks up, sharp.

#### MAERYN

It’s true.

Vale’s eyes cut to her, cold.

#### VALE

Sister, you’re overstepping.

Ione stops beneath the oak. The crowd forms a ring—hungry, scared.

Torches throw the oak’s bark into harsh relief. The noose swings gently.

Ione turns to face Vale.

#### IONE

This stops now. Your court, your men, your experiments.

Vale steps onto the edge of Ione’s platform without invitation—bold.

#### VALE

You dragged my clerk here to humiliate me.

Ione’s voice rises.

#### IONE

I dragged him here because the oak demands a witness.

A murmur—fearful excitement.

Vale looks up at the oak. For a moment his confidence falters—tiny, but real.

Then he masks it.

#### VALE

If the oak “demands,” then it’s a tyrant. And you’re its sheriff.

Ione gestures. Eli shoves Simeon forward—under the branches.

Simeon trembles now, trying not to show it.

Maeryn watches the oak—waiting for the air to change.

Joryn’s hand hovers near his sword.

Ione speaks, loud enough for all.

#### IONE

Simeon Quill. Did you, under the employ of Lord-Prospector Roderic Vale, attempt to counterfeit an oak-verdict using ash and rope?

Vale’s eyes burn into Simeon—warning.

Simeon’s mouth opens.

He tries to speak on his own.

#### SIMEON

Marshal, I—

The oak CREAKS.

Simeon’s jaw locks. His eyes widen with terror as his voice is TAKEN.

#### SIMEON (CONT’D)

Yes.

The town gasps.

Vale’s face goes still—too still.

Simeon’s compelled voice continues, each word a nail.

#### SIMEON (CONT’D)

I gathered ash from the oak platform after the first testimony. I sold ash-dusted coins to baronial men to spread influence. I attempted a binding to force a property claim.

Vale’s eyes flick, calculating exits.

Ione’s voice is sharp.

#### IONE

Did Lord-Prospector Vale instruct you?

Simeon’s mouth trembles. He fights. The oak pulls harder.

#### SIMEON

He—

Vale steps forward suddenly.

#### VALE

Marshal. This is coercion.

Ione doesn’t look away from Simeon.

#### IONE

Answer.

Simeon’s voice fractures—half his, half compelled.

#### SIMEON

He didn’t… not directly.

A wave of confusion.

Vale’s shoulders loosen—just a fraction.

Simeon continues, helpless.

#### SIMEON (CONT’D)

He asked me to ensure the miracle could be scheduled.

A beat.

#### SIMEON (CONT’D)

He asked what it would cost.

Vale’s face tightens again.

Maeryn’s eyes flash—confirmation of her fears.

Ione turns to Vale.

#### IONE

That sound like “not directly” to you?

Vale’s voice is controlled, but anger bleeds through.

#### VALE

It sounds like a clerk trying to save his own skin by implicating his employer.

Ione’s stare is unblinking.

#### IONE

The oak doesn’t let you save skin with lies.

Vale glances up at the branches—then back to Ione.

#### VALE

Then ask it about you.

A hush.

Vale steps closer, voice low but carrying.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

Ask it what you’ve done. Ask it why you really came to Gallowsmere.

Ione’s face doesn’t change, but something in her eyes tightens—like an old wound touched.

Maeryn watches Ione closely now.

Joryn too.

Ione doesn’t bite.

She addresses the crowd.

#### IONE

Simeon Quill is guilty of unlawful binding and assault by occult means.

People murmur—those words aren’t in any statute, but they feel true.

Ione continues.

#### IONE (CONT’D)

He will be held in the stockade pending—

The oak CREAKS again—louder.

The noose sways.

A cold wind whips torches, making flames bow.

The crowd hushes as if the air itself demanded it.

Simeon’s compelled voice returns, unsolicited.

#### SIMEON

It’s not finished.

Ione’s eyes snap to him.

#### IONE

What isn’t?

Simeon’s face contorts—terror and awe.

#### SIMEON

The covenant.

His head jerks upward, forced to look at the branches.

#### SIMEON (CONT’D)

It binds the judge.

A beat.

#### SIMEON (CONT’D)

It binds the kingmaker.

Maeryn goes rigid at that word.

Joryn’s jaw clenches.

Vale’s eyes sharpen—interest, alarm.

Ione’s voice is quiet.

#### IONE

Who is the kingmaker?

Simeon’s lips peel back, fighting the words.

#### SIMEON

Not yet named.

The wind dies suddenly. Torches steady.

The oak falls silent again, as if satisfied it planted the seed.

Ione stands in the aftermath, feeling the town’s eyes on her like weight.

Vale steps back, seizing the moment.

#### VALE

You see?

He gestures at the oak, at Simeon, at Ione.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

This is not law. This is possession dressed as justice.

Murmurs. Some nod.

Ione’s voice is firm, but strained.

#### IONE

Take him.

Eli pulls Simeon away from the branches fast, as if the oak might keep talking.

As Simeon is dragged off, he looks at Ione—pleading, cursed.

Vale leans toward Ione, private in public.

#### VALE

You think you proved control.

He smiles faintly.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

You proved demand.

He steps back, addressing the crowd.

#### VALE (CONT’D)

Charter Court convenes at first light. Any citizen seeking judgment without—this—will be heard.

He turns and walks away, crowd parting.

Some follow him.

Others remain under the oak, staring at Ione as if she’s the only thing between them and a haunted monarchy.

Maeryn steps closer to Ione, voice low.

#### MAERYN

It spoke words it shouldn’t have.

Ione doesn’t look at her.

#### IONE

It spoke what it wanted.

Maeryn’s eyes glisten—fear for the town, for Ione.

#### MAERYN

“Kingmaker.” That’s not metaphor.

Joryn approaches, quiet.

#### JORYN

No.

He looks up at the oak, as if measuring an enemy.

#### JORYN (CONT’D)

It’s a role.

Ione finally looks at them both.

#### IONE

Then we don’t let it assign it.

Maeryn’s voice is almost a whisper.

#### MAERYN

How do you stop a covenant from completing itself?

Joryn answers, bleak.

#### JORYN

You don’t.

A beat.

#### JORYN (CONT’D)

You only decide who it completes through.

Ione stares at the oak—its branches spread like a crown made of rope.

Her hand drifts to her badge—metal, human, small.

Around her, the town divides—footsteps drifting toward paper-law, others clinging to forced truth.

The oak’s leaves rustle once, soft as a breath in an ear.

Ione’s face hardens into decision.

#### IONE

Then I’ll be the one it has to go through.

She steps off the platform into the crowd—back into the mess of human choices.

The oak looms behind her, patient.

---

END OF EPISODE 2.