He that renders judgement

Note: Image associated is from Ironage.media, specifically their writing prompt 'The Warden'

"Kneel before the Great Wyvern Kinthadrax!" Cried the High Priestess to the gathered masses in the mountain Hall. A vast sea of peoples, some having come seeking wisdom, some seeking justice, and some merely to gawk at the majesty of Kinthadrax. For majestic he was as he approached his seat, and gracious was his every move. His vast wings flexed mightily to keep his flight true and landing soft, for if he didn't, he could shatter the very mountain from root to summit; such was his strength and size. And yet more wonders were shown as he took his seat, his head shifting in appearance from the cold, river predator's manifold teeth and crushing jaws to an altogether more human visage, a miniature reflection of the bulk behind his seat, now bipedal.

Two claws jutted from his feet, keenly sharp and with the soft shine of well-kept nails. Above these sat greaves of gold, and between a sable tabard of emerald cloth fell from a cuirass of the same type in make and design. Utterly decorative, as the only dangers to a Wyvern are the strength of his own kind and one fear the Wyverns dare not even have nightmares of. Upon his broad shoulders sat rerebraces, and gauntlets covered his hands and forearms, a spear clutched in his right hand, which he tapped upon the stone three times, signalling his readiness to speak to those who sought him.

The High Priestess brought forward a man who had been waiting most of a week to speak with Kinthadrax, asking, "Oh Great Kinthadrax, I come seeking your wisdom. I am a man of faith, a peaceful man, but my people face terrible evil, and I desire to fight in their defence. If I break my vows, I'll be excommunicated and exiled, perhaps killed. If I don't, I fear I'll never be at peace for my cowardice."

Kinthadrax passed his eyes over the man as he spoke, taking a thorough measure of him, his strength, his will, his heart, and even his soul. Such was the sight of Wyverns to see all, not merely the world of substance. Surprisingly the man spoke no lies, even to himself, a rare trait amongst the lesser races. Kinthadrax then stared closer, seeing the futures the man described play out in his mind. If the man fought, he'd indeed live through it, only to be exiled and wander the rest of his life, his people saved. If he didn't, his conscience would compel him to speak out; he'd die and be martyred eternal, and his people would be much reduced and enslaved for a time. Kinthadrax now had to speak carefully to give wisdom but not tell the man his future, as challenging a proposition as ever. His voice rumbled out from his temporary avatar, a trick to ease fears of his kind, saying, "Death stalks your paths and will come upon you as and when you choose. Fear it not, but stand firm before it. Ponder my words, weigh them in your heart, and you will know what to do."