Verik sighs audibly, and adjusts his hat before speaking, glaring irritably at Corwin. "Now we did not just go through all of this to have you, Corwin, bring down a verdict without weighing the facts and testimony fairly and carefully. Guilty of which of the five high crimes, Corwin? All? Separate justice for separate issues must be upheld. This is the time to speak plainly, but I can tell you from my questioning that they are not ALL guilty of ALL charges, so weigh carefully for Newhaven's future."
He turns to Svetlana. "Svetlana, as cruel as it sounds, it does not matter that Demitir suffered previously if you are to weigh his guilt or innocence on these charges. Did he commit the crime, or did he not? Your compassion is noble, but mitigating circumstance can only be weighed in the punishment of a crime, not the crime itself. The only exception would be if you believe they were utterly compelled to commit these crimes and were not of their own will, with NO choice to do otherwise. I detect no evidence of this here."
"Remember, all of you - I am not only here to judge the accused, but to stand as the standard-bearer of the law and maintain its integrity for Newhaven. You must abide by the Rights and Obligations that have been set forth for this trial when you make a decision."
Taisper's eyes narrow as Grigori makes his Grand Exit along with a portion of the gallery. He lets the Bard get a head start, then walks out after him. On his way, he nods to a couple of the guards; "Stay in here, but keep an eye on me through the window. I want them not to see you if at all possible. I don't expect trouble, but be ready all the same."
Once the fat bard and his erstwhile claque reach the courtyard, Taisper steps out the door, keeping a solid 30ft. between him and the group. He stands in the snow in a solid but relaxed stance. "GRIGORI!" He shouts commandingly. "Hey man, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for Verik to dismiss you, I wish he hadn't done that. You were just sniffin' around the wastes too much, you know what I mean? I think you mistook a court of law for a stage, which I suppose is understandable given what I infer is your normal area of expertise. We welcome opposing counsel here, we really do, you just didn't go about it in a way that is in line with the scriptures and edicts we follow."
Taisper takes a step forward. He is freezing in the cold, but fights hard to keep his bodily reactions under control. don't let them see you shiver... He takes in the group that left with Gregori, mentally marking them all as possible malcontents or rabble-rousers, to be kept under obersvation. "It wasn't very smart for you to walk into our court and try picking a fight like that, but I hope you'll reconsider and stick around. If we have a chance to talk maybe we can work out a place for you here. We welcome all, we're trying real hard to be open and free and be a place for people to get a fresh start. That carries risks and heavy responsibilities. It's hard work, but the freedom is worth it." The young inquisitor hazards a smile. "Look, let's head over to the tavern. All of you!" He opens his arms wide to take in the whole group. "First round is on me. What do you say? We can share a drink and chat."
Shocked and saddened at Corwin's outburst, but Zander understands the anger, It was his men...
Zander stands, welcoming the chance to stretch. He takes the moment to look down the row of faces. A little more comfortable now that the crowd of strange staring faces is gone.
"I am prepared to vote guilty for all. There is no escaping their guilt and association..." He focuses his gaze to Corwin at the far end of the table. "But!....Not if they all share the same fate."
"Ghamont has those children cowed and confused. I agree with Svetlana that their condition should be considered. But not as a measure of guilt or innocence, but in the punishment they are to receive. No action on their part would have been made without pressure, threats or desperation."
"For Ghamont, he should have met his fate on the battlefield. I have no qualms sending him to his overdue fate. But these lads...I offer an indenture of service to atone for their deeds and association with Ghamont. If they willingly bind into a contract of service with the Wardens, I will see that their service to this nation and its citizens will be payment for their actions. They will earn an apprentice wage, and be assigned tasks that will assist the Wardens and allow then to grow in a true family of brothers. Upon their twentieth summer, they are free to seek a new fortune or remain in service to the city, choosing a duty station where they would be most fitting."
He holds up a hand to forestall any questions from Verick. "I know that is not the Law, but the Law was not written to execute children. I am willing to take responsibility here, if each child is willing to this arrangement...." A child should not be punished for an action that it has not thought through.
"If presented this offer, away from Ghamont, and they refuse. Well...I would vote for imprisonment until a point they relented. You can probably tell I haven't thought this all out, but we already lost too many lives recently, and here is a chance to save three. I can team with Tandlara to see that some education is included in their service. This is perhaps a sign that the wave of illness struck at our new community more than just the bodies of our citizens but at the weak fabric of our new society."
"I say we look to see if we find more children such as these. We find farms willing to help, or posts here in the castle or apprenticeships in the new businesses springing up."
Deflating, as the fire in his heart has resolved into ramblings from his mouth. "Well...that is what I have to say on the matter. Guilty, but the means to save face in the accusations of the braggart and a chance to save a few young lives." Zander uncomfortably looks around t where the accused had sat, and then finds his chair and gratefully sits in it.
"Then let's go!" Jemini is quite keen. A year! A whole year? Only a year - or as much as a year? It... I can't say that it felt like it.
She looks to Nikolai encouragingly, hoping to ease his discomfort a little, "Don't fret, Nikolai, you cannot hide or ignore your past - not that what was done to you, nor that what you have done. But it doesn't predestine you. You have a future; a rare gift. Embrace your past, including this last year, and let it guide your hand to form the future you would want for yourself. In the end, that is all we can do, and it will be enough."
He passes into silence as they walk with Celwyl. Together, the three of them walk towards the massive spire in the center of the Eternal City. Celwyl leads them through a series of doors, which are clearly marked portals between sections of the City. The City itself is huge beyond reckoning. There are segments of every civilization on Golarion that they can see, though they appear closer to museum exhibits than functional buildings. Though they jump many miles at a time through the transit portals, it still takes them hours to get from the docks of the Styx to the center of the City.
They reach the base of the Spire that leads up into the Boneyard. From the bottom, it looks like it reaches up nearly forever. Every few feet up the spiral staircase that winds around the Spire is a crystal ball. There are an uncountable number of people in line, of an amazingly diverse population. While there are many humans in the line, there are countless others of other races, many of which Jemini has never seen or imagined before. The line moves quickly, but it still appears as if it will take weeks to get to the top, which is not even visible from the ground. Celwyl sees them looking at the height and says, "Don't worry. This is actually part of the Boneyard, so time is frozen here. For most people, they arrive at the back of the line, go through it, and are judged by Pharasma in the very instant of their death, in an objective sense. The crystal balls will show you a glimpse into the important moments in your life, to better understand Pharasma's decision."
Akiros sits silently with his hands folded in front of his lips as the others debate. "Ghamont Jannsen is a liar. I knew him when we served the Stag Lord together, and he has gleefully killed many men before. He almost worshiped the Stag Lord, so I am not surprised to see him emulate him. He may attempt to claim that it was Bakter, but I knew both of them. Bakter would have done anything for Ghamont, but Ghamont would never allow him to be dominant. It is not in his nature. Guilty on the merits of the case. In regards to his punishment, he swore an oath to never take up arms against Newhaven or its citizens, just as the rest of the captured and as I did. He has violated that oath. His life is forfeit." He is quiet for a moment as his words sink in. "I agree that the boys are guilty of most of the charges, but neither Travess nor Demitir actually killed anyone and should not be found guilty of those charges. Their punishment, however, should be the same. They should be given the opportunity to make an oath of restitution and service, though I disagree with Zander that it should end when they come of age. Lifetime service, I say."
Jhod seems to nod in agreement as Akiros lays out his argument. "I generally agree. People make mistakes, especially children. It's easy to get caught up in something that you don't have control over. Ghamont is clearly guilty, and trying to hide behind the technicalities that the law provides. The others, though... I just can't bring myself to say that they're guilty."
Oleg sort of shrugs and gives his verdict. "Guilty for Ghamont, Travess, and Yanna. Not guilty for Demitir." Tandlara looks at him with sad eyes, but he doesn't say anything more. He neither justifies his votes nor tries to convince the others.
Tandlara gazes at the raven on the side of the room, her mysterious elven eyes giving nothing away. "It is a pity that they acted so rashly. Ghamont is a monster. We should have let Taisper judge him at Stagfall. The children, though, are just mere Sweet Ones. Even the youngest, Yanna, who killed Corwin's guardsman, is not completely to blame for his choices and could be redeemable if shown the correct path. They are guilty, even Demitir, but do not deserve death. Give them to me, and I will train them and take them under my wing."
Kesten, quite quiet up to this point, raises a point about their recent "Advocate." "I don't trust that Grigori just happened to stumble in here. It seems to me that someone is trying to spread unrest here. It could be any number of choices: the Surtovas, Restov, the Archbanker, Pitax, even Mivon. I don't want to fall into whatever trap he has laid for us. Our choice may have ramifications beyond the lives of the Accused. I think the city cries out for Jannsen's execution, so guilty on his charge and death as the punishment. However, with the others, we must tread carefully. If we punish too strongly, the citizens of both Sanctuary and the other local cities will see us as too heavy-handed. If we punish too weakly, they will see us as unable to make difficult decisions. Either way, with Grigori's speeches, even by finding Demitir guilty, we will seem heartless to his suffering; but if we do not find him guilty, we will seem as if we are giving into him. I say guilty with a light punishment, preferably Zander or Tandlara's ideas. Yanna is guilty but there is wisdom in staying our hands; perhaps a deferred sentence is appropriate, to be adjudicated when he comes of age with the full facts of how he has acted? I do not believe that Travess is guilty, frankly, but if he is found to be guilty, a relatively light punishment would suffice."
All Four Guilty
Still fuming at Grigori's act during the proceedings Berrin sits and stares into space as the council discusses the fates of the accused. Images run through his mind, images brought back by the stories told at the trial, images of a younger Berrin running with quite a similar crowd. How easily could it have been him facing the judges? What small twist of fate would have been required to bring him into just such a courtroom? He had run with bandits, mercenaries, thieves and whores before finding his way to the Stolen Lands. He had been just as reckless at times. Though he had never had to kill a guardsman he knew that it could easily have been forced upon him by fate. Boys, who thought they were men, did what boys, who thought they were men, needed to do.
Though his mind is elsewhere, Berrin still hears every word the council has to say. Playing the trial back in his mind over and over again Berrin suddenly realizes that the council has gone quiet. Looking up he sees that every eye is upon him. He also realizes that Ghamont and Yanna had already been judged guilty without his vote and despite his vote that no concensus was achieved regarding Demitir or Travess. With a sinking feeling in his gut he breathes out a heavy sigh, pausing for another moment before breathing deep and opening his mouth.
"Ghamont Jannsen is wicked as f%!#, I've met many men just like him and can tell you straight that he has no hope of redemption. Guilty of all charges, punishment by death." he states simply and plainly in somber tones.
"Demitir..." Berrin's brow furrows when he thinks of the boy dubbed Stagborn, "... umm... Verik? Where did you hear him named Stagborn? I was trying to recall but can't can't remember if that was actually his name, I was just so furious with that Grigori that I just jumped to your defense on that one. Is he really called Stagborn?" Berrin asks, genuinely concerned. "Anyway, the boy is in way over his head. Did you notice how none of the witnesses directly accused him? Not till one of 'em changed his testimony did any of 'em name him as an assailant. I say the kids guilty of a lot of things, but murder ain't one of 'em."
"Yanna, well.." Berrin gives a small shrug as he thinks of the little black haired fury. "He's feisty, thats for sure, and the witnesses name him for killing one of the guards. I can't argue with that so guilty but, I still think the kid's just a kid. I won't abide to harsh a centance for 'im."
"Travess is innocent of murder, he's guilty of assault or attempted murder but not plain murder. He looks ashamed and afraid, I think we need to get the kids away from Ghamont for a start, wichever way we decide to go, they need to be away from 'im."
"I like Zander's suggestion, fresh air and exercise will do the kids good. Or maybe we let them choose, frankly I don't like the idea of Yanna runnin around either in our city nor in our wilds, I'm not sure what to do with that one."
"Yes well Berrin my apologies, but you are correct in that 'Stagborn' is not Demitir's given name...in fact the name has been applied to all three of the accused boys." Verik clears his throat and looks somewhat embarrassed about it. "There was little time before the trial to review this, but our laws state the accused must have a full name for official records. We...we were supposed to sort this out some months back, but then the outbreak of sickness had started, and those Council meetings were suspended. I had to come up with a surname for those in Newhaven that cannot claim one of their own, either as a bastard or as an orphan. It...seemed to fit the circumstances, though I believe Tandlara is offering a different surname to those under her care. Before the trial Demitir stated he had no name and no family, so I gave him this default of Stagborn - sadly I was unaware he had family in Newhaven that had passed."
Svetlana responds to Verik's explanation with surprising vigor. "But that's the point here! Those poor boys came here with nothing, likely just jumped onto a caravan hoping for a better life. We need to do a better job of taking care of the sick and the poor and the orphans and widows. I know that Sanctuary is small, but it's named that for a reason. We need to do more, frankly, to make sure that there's not a motivation for young men like this to join a man like Ghamont. It's too late for him to be anything but a brute, but it's not too late for the boys. Let them all be part of Zander's Wardens. They'll be better for it, and so will Sanctuary."
"What moments are important in a life?" Jemini muses, "Those where you make big decisions? Or those where big decisions happen to you? Times of great peril? Hard work?" She directs a barrage of questions at Celwyl, "Are the type of moment even the same from person to person? Are there visions of important moments to-be? ...though that feels a little like cheating, then, doesn't it? Is it okay for me to take a look?" Jemini curiously glances into the closest two crystals. She half turns her head back to Celwyl, "And what do you see when you look into these?"
While the Council discusses the fates of the Accused, Taisper confronts Grigori outside. Despite his good ol' boy routine, Grigori seems even more hostile to him than he was inside. "Young man, it was not enough that your cousin barred me from speaking on behalf of the young men accused of vile crimes, but now you come here and try to ply me with liquor? Do you think I am a fool? We've all heard the rumors about you and why they keep you around. I know that I would disappear, like all those who threaten your rule over these people." His voice carries strongly, and many of those who hear it meander over to see what the commotion is.
As a number of onlookers gather to see the argument, Grigori launches into another tirade. "You are a coward, Taisper Stosz! I know what lurks in your heart, and I know what your plan was. If you were planning on killing me, be a man about it and attack me here and now!"
Celwyl looks saddened for a moment at Jemini's question. "I saw my life. My joys, my failures, my mistakes and greatest moments. I saw the moment I first discovered magic, the day my daughter Tandlara was born, the day I chose to leave her to go fight in a war that had nothing to do with me. All the best and worst moments of your life. You will see the same, as will Nikolai. But you will have to go through it without me. Not only does my research await, but I cannot go up the Spire again. Once was enough."
Taisper sighs heavily. "Why's everyone always gotta be such a tough guy?" As he cautiously walks toward Grigori, wary of some rogue-ish sneak or trick, there is a flash and Taisper's whole body is bathed in golden light. "Kill you? Nobody's going to kill you Grigori, where do you think you are? Brevoy? Geb? Nex? But fine. Have it your way, man, I tried to be nice about this. But if you're determined to start some kind of fight, we can do it like that." As he gets in range, Taisper drops into a fighting stance, an annoyed and thoughtful look on his face. "You know, now I think about it, I'm actually kinda glad you did this, Grigori, it's bringing certain things to light for me. I'm thinking I need to change my approach, maybe. No no! It's okay, I don't want you to talk, though I know that's what you like to do. For once I want you to SHUT! UP!" With this last, the inquisitor lashes out with a single brutal punch right to the bard's trachea, robbing the man of breath and voice.
As Grigori gasps for air, his eyes bugging out, Taisper shakes his head in exasperation and looks at the crowd. "I ain't calling the guards. And my offer still stands to buy y'all a drink, too. We can just do it without this blowhard around."
Grigori stumbles back, clutching at his throat. The shock in his eyes is quiet real, though the stumbling collapse on the ground is most likely a ploy for sympathy with the crowd. His fine clothes tear as he hits the ground. The crowd buzzes with people talking and moving excitedly, though no one makes a motion to intervene between Taisper and Gregori. Someone in the back gives a half-hearted shout towards one of the guards near the gate of the castle courtyard. Grigori slides backwards, cowering in fear from Taisper.
Also, having now fulfilled the obligations of the suggestion, you are free to do what you will.
Taisper looks down at the cowering bard, and makes a disgusted face. "KNOCK IT OFF! Dammit, Grigori, quit with the simpering sob act. None of these good people here are gonna be fooled by your copper-quality second-rate desperate thespianism; they're all way too smart for it. Now let me give it to you straight. I don't know why that just happened, there. I...I musta lost control, you got me so damn mad. But I don't think that's too much more than you had coming, anyway. And I told you no one's gonna kill you, you damn fool! So stop...wallowing around, or whatever it is you're doing. If you're gonna accuse me, a veteran of Stagfall, and a man who helped kill the Stag Lord, of not being a man, well, you can at least have the common decency to act like one yourself."
The golden-haired inquisitor stands down, backing away from the hapless bard. "I'm going to show you what it really means to be a man, Grigori. This is the same level of hope, honesty, and responsibility all these good people here possess. Because this is our land, that we fought for, and still fight for. And we respect its laws, and no one is above those laws." Taisper angles his head and yells up for the two guards he put on standby as he left. ""
Taisper backs up a couple more feet, still addressing the whole crowd along with Grigori. "Being a man means never having to stoop to rabble-rousing and stirring up trouble. It means never having to make threats, but knowing you can back them up anyway. It means working your fingers to the bone for your family that's at home, and keeping a roof over their head and food in their bellies. AND WE DO THAT HERE! IN NEWHAVEN! We don't have time for thieves and scofflaws and malcontents, Grigori, because we're trying to do this right, by ourselves, on our own. We're here because we're all honest, hardworking family people who are tired of all the underhanded actors and dirty-dealers like yourself who run things in other countries. We want honesty, and transparency, and freedom and law."
The guards approach Grigori with their chains, but Taisper waves them off. "NO! Not him. Me." The guards look at him blankly. Taisper looks out at the crowd. "You all saw it, right? You saw what happened. He egged me on to attack, but he was standing down, looked like he wasn't ready. And I just up and strolled up to him and hammered him in the throat -- potentially a very dangerous act. He was being rude, but I assaulted him. That is against the law, and no one here is above the law."
The inquisitor looks at the guards again. He turns around so they can chain his hands behind his back, and his ankles if they wish. "Take me in. The charge is disorderly conduct and brawling in public. Put me in holding cell C, I expect A & B are full at the moment." He says all this to the guards, but loud enough anyone can hear. As the guards lead him away, both looking, honestly, a bit embarrassed by this whole thing, Taisper yells over his shoulder to the crowd. "Remember this is our land, this Newhaven! All of ours! And we control it and set the laws and work the soil, and we won't let any outsiders come in here and try to tell us how it's done!"
Once back inside the castle, the guards nod to each other. One reaches for his keys. "Nice ruse, sir. Good speech, too, almost sounded convinc-"
Taisper cuts him off. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Er...well, now we're back inside, I'm going to set you free."
"No." Taisper says flatly. "You take me and charge me, and you put me in holding cell C. I expect my cousin will want to have words with me."
Blue eyes. Grigori has the deepest, clearest blue eyes.
@Taisper The poor befuddled guards deposit Taisper into the third cell of their small prison, unshackling him and logging his personal belongings into a safe lockbox in the Guard Captain's office in the barracks. (Corwin will probably be pretty surprised by that when he gets out of the Council meeting, especially with the sheer amount of strange items that Taisper seems to carry around.) The four cells were taken by the four prisoners when he arrived, and the guards hastily moved Demitir and Traviss into the same cell. The Accused and the Inquisitor stare at each other through the open bars, almost close enough for Taisper to strike out at.
In private, the demeanor of Demitir and Travess are quite similar to how they were in their trial. Demitir looks terrified and worried, while Travess looks defeated and depressed. Yanna, on the other hand, is pacing in a circle in the small cell; gone is the facade of defiance, replaced by clear anxiety. The only person who looks relaxed is Ghamont Jannsen, who sits on the small bed with his feet up and his hands behind his head. He looks at Taisper with that smug face before asking, "Looks like we're not that different after all."
@Verik A door opens as the Council continues to debate what to do with the prisoners. A guardsman walks in rather purposefully, saluting Corwin as he approaches. "Cleric, sir, I have an urgent message for you." He looks around, waiting for someone to tell him to speak or wait until the room is clear. When neither happens, he continues. "Your cousin, sir, Taisper Stosz. He attacked that bard in the courtyard after an argument, then insisted that we arrest him for it. He's currently down in the jail. What should we do, sir?"
Taisper's face is neutral as he looks at each of the accused, one after the other. He is thoroughly familiar with the laws of Newhaven and knows exactly the extent to which he can be punished for his infraction. The extent of his actual punishment, of course, will be up to the council after he has stood trial.
The inquisitor smiles beatifically at Jannsen, then looks from him to Yanna, then Demitir, then Traviss. After he has done this, he sits calmly on the bed and closes his eyes, concentrating on the solid, shimmering golden bond between himself and God. It is a comfort.
Berrin frowns at the interruption by the guard, drumming his fingers on the table as he whispers in Verik's ear he sighs impatiently. "Well!?" he barks at the cleric when the guard finishes.
Jemini nods seriously as she listens to Celwyl, but is distracted with the vision of an early childhood encounter with a bees' nest in the crystal before her. Then his words slowly filter through and dissolve into a clarity of meaning. "...what...? What did you say? Tandlara?"
"Celwyl. Are you aware that one of my companions is an elf named Tandlara? She fought with us when we battled the Staglord - Nikolai - I... I don't know how old she is, let me think..." Jemini's face is a contortion of calculation, "she mentioned she was just recently reaching adulthood around the time of Aroden's death... for an elf... that would be in 4606; Choral's conquest was 4499..." She looks at Celwyl, eyes large and expressive, "She must have been a teenager back then. By human standards I mean. It cannot just be coincidence. It's your daughter! It must be!"
"I...he...that little...OH BLASTED BLOODY...BUGBEAR BALLS!"
Fists clenched, Verik's ruddy face jerks around from the guard to the Council so violently that he finally loses his hat. At once he realizes where he is, and his eyes bulge as he gasps for words like one of the lake fish stranded up on the shoreline. Finally, he snaps his mouth shut and stoops to pick up his hat. Rising, he closes his eyes and mumbles a forgiveness prayer to Abadar, and then turns to the nervous guardsman. "I shall be there when I can. In the meantime he...believes he has broken the law and may very well have done so, so leave him in his cell. Send word to the Sergeant-at-Arms to see what has happened to this stranger Grigori out in the town, but do not arrest him unless he has clearly broken the law."
As the guardsman walks from the main hall, Verik turns to look at the Council, his eyes finding Berrin's. "It seems our irascible Master Stozs has instigated a fight with that anarchist Grigori out in public, followed by having the guards arresting him. I will investigate shortly while you deliberate the penances, though I must be present before you come to any final decisions."
"Where were we again?" He walks over to the small table and refers to a parchment that he had scribbled some notes on moments earlier while Svetlana was speaking. "Oh yes, I remember now. This cannot wait."
Verik walks back to the center of the floor and raises one hand in the air while the other holds a small but decoratively engraved book from his robes, intoning in his most formal voice. "As Judge of this Tribunal, the decision of guilt must be finalized under the eyes of the Lawgiver before we continue with the deliberations of punishment and sentence. I therefore verify the results of this Council, that the Accused ALL stand guilty of the charges of thievery, banditry and thuggery of the citizens of Newhaven. On the twin charges of murder, Demitir and Travess are absolved of any guilt, whereas Yanna is deemed guilty of murder to a sworn guardian of Newhaven. Ghamont is guilty of murder of Newhaven's citizens and its sworn protectors. A moment if you please, and I shall illuminate the terms of any further discussions of penance."
Nikolai barks a rebuke at the former elf. "Are you a fool, or just cruel? Your daughter will always need you, alive or dead. You owe her more than that! You don't know her, for you are too foolish to look. If you were a better father, you would know that she strongly favors and protects her friends. I should know!" He points to his eyes. "When it was I who threatened them, she tore my eyes out with black magicks. I felt the dark whisper of some foul entity in that magic, akin to the fey queen who freed me from Choral's captivity, for a price. What kind of father would sit idly by and let his child make such a bargain?"
@Taisper Yanna pulls himself closer to the bars of the jail, trying to get Taisper's attention. The Inquisitor's eyes remain closed as the boy speaks. "Are they gonna execute me? Please, don't let them. I'm sorry for what I did! Please..."
@The Council One by one, the members of the Council nod their assent. This is the verdict they had reached by the laws of Newhaven, and though no one person is completely pleased, they all agree that it is fair and just.
Kesten looks at Zander, who can't help but notice how much more easily people meet his eye when he is disguised. "It hasn't come up yet, but if we start sentencing criminals to serve as Wardens, it must be clear. What is the punishment for desertion, and how shall it be enforced? We have magical means, but branding is easier and considerably cheaper."
Zander nods his head in understanding. "The Warden's Service is not their sentence, it is the means to avoid their just fate. A means to amend. A brand seems severe, but I understand the necessity. If perhaps the brand can be seen more as a badge and less as a jailor's mark. I would hope to raise these boys up to be upstanding citizens and don't need them cruelly marked for their whole lives."
He then lowers his head solemnly, "But yes...desertion will be punished severely."
Jemini notes Nikolai's words with some concern, but focuses on the axiomite for now: "Please, Celwyl, if we're returning to the River Kingdoms shortly, then I'll see Tandlara, she'll hear the story of our travels, the dangers and the joys. I don't want to tell her that I found her father and that he's got no words of encouragement or well-wishes for her. That is not the way she described her people; she has suffered much in the past, and like her you may have lost heart when she and her dear ones were defeated by that dragon. But even for an elf a long time has passed since. I've seen her grow again, with my own eyes. Her concerns for our efforts are real and her powers are growing with every week that passes. She is both strong and frail, your actions - Celwyl - will carry her strength or burden her frailty. Please. Think about it again."
Slowly, Taisper opens his eyes. He looks at Yanna. "I'm certain you are sorry. But I'll bet the guard you killed is even more sorry you did it, and so is his family, and his friends. You've made a series of decisions that have led you here, but now you no longer get to decide. If you live, you can choose to be a good example so no one else ever has to be in the same position you're in right now. You can do that, perhaps, depending on what they decide. I, too, have made some decisions that have led me here, and perhaps I will suffer for it. That, too, depends on what they decide."
"But there's a difference. Well, there are a few differences, but the main one is I believe in the Plan of the Master of the First Vault, and I know that I have done right by his plan, so I do not regret anything I have done, even if those things should lead to punishment or death. I know a greater truth; I know God. So I know peace. Even at a time like this."
Taisper gives the boy a significant look, and waits to see what riposte the kids' erstwhile leader will have to offer.
"It is true that any penance to serve time must be seen as a punishment, and not an apprenticeship that would be coveted by others. This is not to say they cannot find worth and value in serving their time of course. Perhaps an Oath is all that is required, and clothes that befit their penance to serve. Perhaps not."
Verik blanches at the thought of branding, a crude method just above the severing of fingers and hands for thievery, which to him was nothing more than ritualized barbarism. This was not Absalom however, as he kept reminding himself. "Branding and...other disfigurations upon the body are not what I would recommend, but as they say we are in uncharted waters with the rocks all around. What I can say is that the punishment must be appropriate to the charge, and separate punishments must be set for separate issues of guilt. To that end, Yanna must receive an added or greater punishment than that of either Demitir or Travess, and Ghamont should receive worse than Yanna." Verik spreads his hands open in a questioning pose. "Now must Yanna receive exactly the same as Ghamont? No. At least not if you weigh Yanna's crime as having a circumstance that should be taken into account, or his life's work will benefit Newhaven in some way better than if he was executed."
Verik holds up three fingers then. "I do have the blessings of Abadar with me this day to perform three castings of the Truthtelling upon the guilty, should you wish it. One will act upon an entire group, and two can be applied to a single man each. If you require an Oath as part of the punishment and wish to see it spoken true...or you have questions to ask that can risk no lies in the answering, I can see it done if that will help you to make your decision." Verik raises a hand then in caution to the Council. "Take care however, for the Truthtelling cannot compel them to speak when they would not wish to, nor can it force a binding Oath that they would not otherwise take. Cast it upon one unwilling to speak, and nothing is achieved."
Verik sighs and returns to the table to uncover an object wrapped in a white cloth. He reveals what looks to be a single golden crossbow bolt, and holds it aloft to the Council as he turns. "The Abadarian Judgment of a capital offense - it signifies death by execution for heinous crimes, which I believe applies to Ghamont and his actions as the Red Stag. In the hands of a true Justicar...ahh well in some historical cases it could mean a literal execution of the man by the blessed bolt, as the Lawgiver would ensure it always flew true to punish the guilty. In this case I only hold it before you as a symbol of what must be done here. In the matter of execution, Brevian Law is based on Taldoran precepts and suggests a rope for thieves and murderers, as the sword is reserved for soldiers and the axe is for...ahh...well those of a different stature than most."
Jemini and Nikolai are alone at the base of the Spire, looking up its length. Nikolai hardens his face and nods to himself. "Can't put this off any longer. It's time to see all that I have done, and to be judged."
The pronouncement ripples through the city after Verik gave the order for Ghamont's execution, and for the deferred sentences of the other three. Demitir and Travess both accept ten year terms into the Wardens, accepting both the brand of the Warden on their arms and Verik's magic to ensure that their oaths were given truly. The pair is most grateful for the clemency, while most of the city very much seems to agree that the sentences are fair and just. Even the families of the victims give their blessing to the arrangement. Yanna, the youngest, is given a sentence of twenty-five years hard labor, and he reluctantly and resentfully agrees to accept an equal term in the Wardens instead. He grimaces when he is branded and snarls his oath, but he fulfills the letter of the law of his sentence. The Council's pronouncement is death by hanging, as befits a bandit, to be carried out on the following morning. Grigori is nowhere to be seen or heard, thankfully.
Taisper's trial is a rather quick affair, as he essentially waives it and pleads guilty, requesting (demanding) that he receive no special treatment. The Council quickly negotiates a 50 gold penalty, paid from Taisper to Grigori, with an equal amount paid from Taisper to Newhaven's general fund, and a 30-day exile from the city. Taisper accepts the terms graciously, immediately packs, and exits the city gates by nightfall into the snowy night.
Dawn rises, and Ghamont's feet twitch in the gallows. The crowd is quiet, almost respectful, as they realize that this execution was about law rather than retribution. Ghamont's final words echo through the crowd and the Council. "The Red Stag will return, and then this city will burn." It is not something that anyone wants to see, but the citizens trust the Council to ensure that no harm befalls them.
The sudden confession by Celwyl strikes Jemini with a little guilt, but on a moments deliberation she thinks to herself, It is likely for the best like this, thank you, Sarenrae, for shedding the light of love and compassion on Celwyl's ordered existence.
"Yes. Yes! Time waits for no man, or woman. Except here maybe, and even then not." She focuses more intensely on Nikolai, "Please remember that I will stand by you, especially in whatever happens next. I cannot even fathom how Oleg's place will have changed since we left - knowing Verik there should be at least a small village already growing out of the old trading post. Perhaps more! Your reputation will only have been embellished upon in the time that has passed; changing the you in the eyes of my friends - and even more the population at large - will take time and effort." She closes her eyes for a moment, then reopens them, an excited light of adventure dancing in them, there's almost an exuberance swinging in her voice. "Let's go!"
Jemini and Nikolai walk the Spire for days and weeks. Every few dozen feet, there is another orb to stare into and see a moment of their lives. Jemini enjoys her happy childhood, seeing her parents raise her lovingly and give her every advantage. She sees happy days spent in play with her sister Ellana, holding her younger brother Lander at his birth. She sees her frustration and pleasure at the teachings of her tutors. She remembers the first time she held a sword, its feeling of rightness a steadiness in her hands that she never forgot. She recalls the first day she went to the temples of Iomedae, Sarenrae, and Irori, the lessons she learned from each of the three gods. She sees the terrible fire that cost Zander Orlovsky his life and sent her on the path of the paladin. Close to the end, she sees Oleg's Trading Post that first day of the last month of her life. She sees the threats that lurk around her new nation, of the fey queen and ancient dragon, the machinations of half a dozen noble families looking to increase their power. She remembers every detail about that time, each coming faster than the last: meeting the others at Oleg's, verbally sparring with Verik, the magical moment when Zander received his magical face, Berrin falling in the river, Taisper's execution of Orlivanch, bathing with Tandlara and Svetlana, battling bugbears in the night, Zander and Verik dragging Oleg out of the fire their first night during the bandit attack, finding Reggie, a snowball fight in the mountains, Verik falling into the tatzlwyrm den and being nearly ripped to shreds, meeting the mad Bokken, coming face-to-face with the Stag Lord.
Nikolai is quiet as he looks into his own past. Tears stream down his face, the wages of a life filled with pain and anger and blood and fire. He does not say exactly what he sees, but Jemini can see the horror on his face and guess what his visions hold. As they arrive to the top of the Spire, their memories come together. As Jemini sees the last day of her life, there is a mirror in Nikolai's own vision. The last moment of their lives are shared in their visions, as the Stag Lord plunges his greatsword into Jemini and is finished moments later by Berrin and Taisper. Nikolai reaches out for Jemini's hands, his voice thick with emotion. "I am so sorry, Jemini. There is nothing that I can ever do to repay my actions."
They find themselves crossing the last orb, looking across a vast expanse: the Boneyard. Pharasma's court is a stark place, quiet as the grave. The goddess of death herself sits atop a throne, a shrouded figure of infinite patience and wisdom. As she passes judgement in a whisper only heard by the judged, her servants stand by to escort them through one of nine archways that lead out of the court. Jemini recognizes this as the nine realms that a soul can be sent to: Heaven, for those both lawful and good; Nirvana, for those whose goodness was paramount; Elysium, for those who value both goodness and freedom; the Maelstrom, where only chaos reigns; the rest of the Boneyard, for Pharasma's faithful and those who are truly untouched by law, evil, good, or chaos; Axis, for souls motivated by strict lawfulness and nothing else; Hell, the domain of regimented evil; Abaddon, the cruel realm antithetical to life; and the Abyss, chaotic torment and sadism. They watch as the souls go to their destinations. Most go to the Maelstrom, the Abyss, Hell, or Abaddon. Nikolai shakes his head, seemingly pitying the souls and resigning himself to the same fate. A few go to Heaven, Axis, Elysium, and Nirvana, but only a few and far less than Jemini would hope.
Finally, it is their time to step in front of the goddess's throne. Pharasma's quiet voice slides across to the pair, who stand together. "Jemini Lebeda, you have lived a life of goodness and almost never strayed from discipline. It is clear to me that you should go to Heaven. Nikolai Rogarvia, you have lived a life marked by evil and cruelty. It is clear to me that you should go to the Abyss. However, I am aware that you, Jemini Lebeda, have tied your fate to his. You have rejected the call to return to life, which had my blessing. Do you wish to share this call with Nikolai Rogarvia? Present your case for judgment."
It's hard to believe that it's been a full year. Three-hundred and sixty-five days since the creation of Newhaven, forged in blood. The blood of their fallen leader. With Jemini gone, none of them expected to last this long. Especially not the man given the responsibility of leading the nation, Steward Berrin Myrdal. He sits on the edge of his bed inside the castle of Sanctuary, his head swimming from Taxfest's festivities the night before. Bokken had somehow trained Reggie to carry a mug of ale, and the loyal pet had carried nearly a dozen mugs to Berrin over the night. Esmerelda sits on the bed behind him, rubbing the soreness from his shoulders. Her sultry voice seems booking from his hangover, though she is (probably) speaking in her usual suggestive whisper. "The ceremony is in an hour. Do you think you have time for me before you give some speeches that are bound to be so much less interesting to you?"
Taisper Stosz slips into the city gates just before dawn, with Alexius Morai-Thrune behind him. The pair just finished Hunting the last of the deserters who forfeited their lives a year ago. It was a strange 21st birthday for Taisper by normal standards, but normal and fitting by his. The previous year had been difficult with the final Judgment of this Oathbreaker hanging over him, but at least it was done. Three more await Judgment, with Taisper constantly looking for signs that he and Alexius must finally Hunt them: Grigori, Vinodragov, Sellimus. He is busy pondering them when Alexius slips away quietly and without a word. Just as well, for he is not in Sanctuary for more than a minute before Ilyana Flaxton and Nicholas Jr, her young son, approach him. Ilyana smiles at him, a bright shining on her pretty face. "He wanted to give you this yesterday, but the others said that you were out traveling and wouldn't be home until today. Nick wanted to wait for you. Truthfully, I did too." The young boy holds his hand out to Taisper, opening it when he sees that Taisper is looking. He holds a single copper coin, offering it to Taisper; it is his taxes, his contribution on Taxfest.
Zander stands atop the castle's battlements, staring south. Gregary remains missing, something that bothers the Warden greatly. The others had searched for him without luck, and he knows that nothing would cause the young man to desert the Wardens. Demitir approaches him from behind. The boy has proven himself useful, showing both interest and aptitude for the tasks of organization and logistics. "Sir, we have another report of trolls to the south, this time with three credible witnesses. They fell upon a merchant caravan and dragged off a number of prisoners, as well as the goods themselves. The survivors warded them off with torches. They also said that the trolls had some dark-colored kobolds with them, carrying the wagons away. Last month it was hobgoblins. They're more organized than ever before. All trade southeast of the lake has essentially come to a halt Forrest of these marauding trolls."
Verik Jarrow directs the staff as they organize things in the courtyard. Jemini is heavy on his mind on the anniversary of her death. He arranged for the celebration in her honor, and that of the others who fell saving their realm from the Stag Lord. Svetlana watches next to him, rocking her newborn daughter Jemini. The birth had come as a surprise to them. Oleg didn't want to make a big deal about it, and winter's chill and heavy clothes fell before her pregnancy had become apparent. Jemini Leveton had been born on the 18th of Calistril, a few weeks before spring's arrival. Oleg came to both him and Jhod late that night, entrusting the delivery to them. While Jhod was perfectly comfortable with the whole process, Verik had alternately nearly fainted, vomited, and decided on a dedicated hospital for the sick somewhere in Sanctuary's future. Since the delivery, Svetlana had been radiantly happy. She talks to the baby in a sing-song voice. "Yes, this is dedicated to the brave woman you're named after, yes it is! You're going to be just as amazing as she was, yes you are!" She shifts out to her normal voice to speak to Verik. "Do you think she's ever coming back?"
Savoring the feel of her fingers touching his skin Berrin rolls his eyes and sighs contentedly, turning over he gathers Emma up in his arms and lays back on the bed, holding her close. "Of course I have time for you, my lady." he murmurs into her hair closing his eyes and loosing himself in the feel and smell of her body against his. "It's not as if Jemini's going anywhere, I rekon the dead can wait on the living. Besides, Verik's doing all the planing, I just need to make an appearance." he murmurs, moving closer to her ear. Finding his blood begin to rise he rolls on top of her and starts nuzzling her neck, resulting in a violent giggle and a mock struggle which ends with Emma straddling him and holding him down by the arms. Ceasing his struggles Berrin lies on his back and stares into her eyes, smiling. "How'd I ever come by you?" he muses with a smile on his face, "What God need I praise for granting me your affections Esmeralda? I can't for the life of me figure out how you make me feel so blessed."
"I am so sorry, Jemini. There is nothing that I can ever do to repay my actions."
Jemini looks Nikolai earnestly in the eyes at the culmination of their lives' reviews. "You may be surprised just how much you can do, when you put your mind to it. But - and some, even gods, may disagree - but I think the journey is as important, it is not just about repaying or making amends. It is about trying to do so."
Before the throne of Pharasma, the presence of the goddess herself gives Jemini pause - and when she is addressed by Pharasma she cannot help but shudder. The quiet sovereignity of the deity carried such immaculate certainty and gravitas that her own concerns, and those of Nikolai, seemed to wash away. But the goddess had addressed them, her, directly. Offering a fair trial.
Uncertain how to actually address the goddess, in person, she staggers over her thoughts and words initially, It is so different in prayers. It is almost casual that I use 'Sarenrae', 'Iomedae' and 'Irori' in my head, but, but right in front of me, in real life. Real afterlife... but then she manages to give her account: "Your, your graciousness, I have been told that I've spent onto two years travelling the planes - in an attempt to return with Nikolai Rogarvia to life. In that time I've come to learn that in many ways life only starts after death; as if our first life, birth to death, is a rite of passage to introduce us to eternity. In the light of that, the small lives we lead before are of little consequence - apparently rarely drawing the attention of the great powers of the multiverse. But, I've also come to see, now in your court, that the balance of lives after death is not at all as even as I had thought; so many, so so very many souls that come before you leave for the dark planes or the Maelstrom. How many, I wonder, could have walked a different path, found happiness and certainties in their lives - how many could not carry the burdens of their lives and suffer now, drawn down not just by their own actions but the world that made them who they are?"
"I cannot simply be satisfied with Heaven. Not while I know of a threat that rises for the people I call my friends and the fledgling nation we are trying to build. I believe Nikolai when he asserts that Choral, the Conqueror, will be marching again - spreading a tide of blood and misfortune on the River Kingdoms and beyond. How many more will come before you in the next years when he does so? How many of them will be sent to Hell, Abaddon, the Abyss or the Maelstrom? I wish to stand against this tide. I hope to make a difference. I want to deny Heaven my soul, so that ten, twenty, nay a thousand or more lives have a chance to change their destiny and find a new afterlife for themselves. It is a selfish request to withhold myself, I can only ask Heaven for forgiveness and lenience when reviewing my ambition."
"Nikolai has proven himself, to me at least, as earnestly seeking redemption - even if his soul may carry more tarnish than he can hope to unburden. I am also convinced that Nikolai is the answer to defeating the Choral. I believe that everybody carries the seed for redemption - and while this faith holds strong within me, I cannot rest in Heaven when so many need to get a chance. I will gladly forfeit my soul to give others a new chance. Please. Please allow us to pass back to Golarion."
Esmerelda smiles that vixen smile right back at him, though there is a momentary flicker of something else across her face. It's gone in a flash, and the mischievous look is back in her eyes. "Tell you what. I'll be Calistria and you be Cayden Cailean, and we can thank the gods in our own way."
Fifty-nine minutes later, Berrin rushes to get ready, grabbing together his clothes. Fortunately, with the winter gone, there aren't so many layers to put on, but the people still expect him to look formal and well-dressed. He misses the old days in which he could wear some dirty, beat-up armor and not look out of place. He misses the ability to spend a few weeks out in the wild, roughing it under the night sky. He misses fighting. Berrin can't remember the last time he got into a good scrap with somebody, Emma's energetic passions notwithstanding. He glances at the greatsword he took from the Stag Lord's body one year ago, wishing that he had something to do battle with. He recalls that last fight, going toe-to-toe with Akiros and rushing the Stag Lord in what he thought was a suicidal charge to save the others. He misses the thrill of battle.
He looks down at Esmerelda, who lounges on their bed. With every item more or less in the right general place, he gets ready to rush out. Emma laughs at him, sits up on the bed, and straightens the crown that has fallen askew. "I'll be there soon, watching from the crowd. Just give me a little time to catch my breath. You certainly know how to exhaust a girl." With one last kiss, she slaps him on the buttocks as he exits the door, rushing to try not to be too late for the ceremony.
Pharasma simply looks at the pair for a long time. The weight of her gaze is terrible and wonderful, almost more than either of them can bear. They can see just a small part of her ashen face, but it is clear that she is studying them and weighing their actions and futures. "There is a price, Jemini Lebeda. You are responsible for this man's future actions. If he causes pain and misery, it will be as if you yourself caused it. If he causes joy and prosperty, it will be as if you yourself caused it. You are tied to Nikolai Rogarvia, soul to soul, from this moment onward. I will judge you together, for better or for worse, after death does you part. I grant you leave to return." She raises her hand and turns over an hourglass filled with red sand. As the sand begins to fall, they are enveloped in a white light and a cacophony of noises and voices as a feeling of being washed out by a powerful tide envelops them.
Zander bites the inside of his lip as he listens to the news, but then remebers who he is facing. "Thank you Demitir! Fine report. Spread the word to the Wardens in Sanctuary that as soon as the festivities are over I want to have a meeting." This has gone on long enough. I can't protect them behind a desk.
But for now he knows he must look the part. Fully outfitted with sword, bow, cloak and of course the white stag helm. But he does not wear a uniform. He wears the clothes he wore that day at Stagfall...the clothes he wore when they first scouted this land...the clothes he first bonded with his friends. He hopes the effect is not lost on them, It is time to leave the safety of these walls... Zander sets out into the streets to listen to a series of boring speeches, when there is real work to be done. Upon seeing Berrin hurrying upon the Courthouse steps, looking uncomfortable as always before the gathering crowd...I wonder how many seconds it will take him to agree to join me.
Against every better instinct he has, against his will, his mind, and his better judgment, Taisper's heart still surges every time he sees Ilyana. Despite what he knows. Despite what must be. So it is with a bizarre and heady mix of trepidation and joy that he approaches the frontierswoman and her son. He smiles warmly when the boy presents the copper coin, and crouches down low so his face is level with the youngster's, his leathers creaking and the heavy head of his morningstar thudding on the ground as he does so. "I will make certain, young master Nicholas, that this goes straight to the coffers that will help build your street, and keep you safe. You're helping to build a city, a nation, and a life with this. You're a good man, and don't ever forget it. Tonight, when I pray, when I speak with the Master, I'll make sure he knows. 'Oh master of the vault!' -- I'll say -- 'Look at this fine lad, look at how well he's doing, and how well he takes care of his mother, and his fellow citizens.' And do you know what the Master will say, Nick?"
The boy shakes his head solemnly.
"'Yray puz il a vneltiy yu ahh I jahoel, act yu ahh yray il jahoaphel. Rel fihh pel a wnelay sac frelc rel wnufl oq.', that is what he will say; 'That boy is a credit to all I value, and all that is valuable. He will be a great man when he grows up.'"
The inquisitor stands up again and smiles at Ilyana, exerting every ounce of his will to slow his heart rate. Surely she can hear it. Surely. I see her so rarely. It has been so long. What in all the hells is my problem?! "That's sweet, Ilyana. And, truly, valuable. I was just a bit younger than Nick here when I made my first Taxfest contribution; it was the beginning of a great journey for me, and a life of law-abiding good citizenship. You're, er, a fine...parent." Taisper finishes lamely. He smiles winningly in what he hopes is a neutral manner.
"No no NO! Come now men of Sanctuary! Do you rush to gird your belt without looking if it is on properly? Of course not! So why then do you not hang these Stagfall banners in the proper height in accordance with one other?" Verik points directly at one which is tied off crooked, then at another with a pronounced fold in its width, and directs the laborers to clamber up to fix them. "Abadar does not reward reckless endeavors gentlemen! Pride of accomplishment is earned through meticulous and steadfast devotion to the task at hand!"
With a final scowl at the men's apologies and a call for more ladders, Verik turns almost absentmindedly back to Svetlana and little Jemini. "Now what did you ask Svetlana? Oh yes of course my apologies - you asked about..." Jemini... His eyes grow distant for a moment, and in that moment he finds himself back at Stagfall on two different occasions. He sees himself kneeled down at Jemini's fallen form after her death minutes before, looking upon her serene face even as the rest of her was impossibly bloodied and rent. Looking up, he then sees Jemini's spirit looking back at him, watching her smile and react to him when no one else could do so. Of course he knows the two memories were distinctly different events fully months apart from each other, but throughout the year those two very vivid images were repeated so often in his dreams and waking mind that they have become one combined memory to him, a doorway to dwell on other dreams and fanciful notions of possibility. However, this day his ordered mind snaps him back to the present. "...yes you asked about 'her' return. My answer is still the same of course. I wholeheartedly believe...well no I know that she will return to us, but only when she is ready, and has fulfilled whatever task her spiritual journey requires for her to fulfill. My mind and my heart are aligned to this curious conclusion without any corruption of doubt."
Verik smiles back to little Jemini then, waving his fingers and making a funny face that does not exactly befit the Banker of Newhaven. "Yes yes Svetlana, I know your husband - and most of the Council for that matter - believes I am positively planetouched for my "vision" out at Stagfall last summer, but I know it to be true." He sighs then somewhat grandly. "It does not make the waiting easier though, does it? Well your little namesake jewel here will have to win the hearts of Newhaveners in the meantime, but she does seem most up to the task - why she almost nearly relieves me of my shameful display of midwifery and the mocking misery that old Kavken put me through in learning the healing arts this past year!"
It is a testament to the growth of Newhaven how many people are at the courtyard of the castle. One year before, at the battle outside Oleg's Trading Post, there was no Newhaven at all; if there had been, it would consist of the several dozen homesteaders who fought against the Stag Lord's bandit army. Now, just one short year later, Newhaven is home to thousands of people, many of whom live in Sanctuary. Citizens spill out of the courtyard into the surrounding streets, hundreds upon hundreds come to celebrate the founding of their nation together. The city has grown after the snows lifted, the people adding their industry and labor to the whole. A tanner from Tymon recently arrived and began producing quality leathers, prompting Akiros to raise the possibility that they can soon arm and train a standing army. The road to Oleg's is nearly complete, with towns and hamlets and farms popping up along the roadway. By the end of the summer, the mine near Bokken's cabin ought to be built and producing gold to further build Newhaven. The people are happy and hopeful for the future, and well-fed after Taxfest's feast.
Ilyana invites Taisper to come with them to watch the ceremony, but he declines. When Nicholas Jr. joins in and begs him to come, going so far as to grab him by the hand and pull him, Taisper relents. Reluctantly, he tells himself, and because polite hospitality is smiled upon by Abadar. Ilyana loops her arm around Taisper's as they walk behind Nicholas Jr., who runs excitedly in front of them, telling Taisper that it has been difficult since her husband died at Stagfall. She recently started working at the new tanner, happy to be doing something with her hands again rather than working at the mill. She seems bittersweetly hopeful for the future as they talk, ready and willing to work hard for her son. When they arrive at the courtyard, most of the prime spots are already taken. While Taisper is as not well-known on sight as the rest of the Founders, he could easily get them a better spot to watch by merit of his station. Instead, he uses his knowledge of the castle to find a little-used alcove from which to watch comfortably. A few moments after they arrive, another set of onlookers follows them and stands next to them in the alcove, pushing Taisper and Ilyana close together. She smiles and presses up tightly against him, clearly not quick to pull away.
Zander strides through the crowd, which opens up to give him room to walk to the raised stage where the other Founders sit. While the people of Newhaven respect and value the White Stag, most of them find him strange and enigmatic. Zander puts it out of his mind, as they are at least not recoiling when they look upon him. The people don't have to love him for Zander to keep them safe from the dangers that lurk beyond the borders. He climbs the short set of stairs, taking his place next to Tandlara. The elven witch smiles at him and rubs his shoulder, at once affectionate and alien.
Verik continues to oversee the event, despite it having already started. He points and commands until Svetlana drags him unwillingly onto the stage. He is dressed in the full regalia of Head Banker, having received the package from Absalom along with a letter from the Archbanker of Absolom praising his service and dedication to spreading the word of Abadar. The robes are white and yellow, with gilded piping and a half-dozen keys hanging from the belt. He looks so removed from the young cleric who first arrived to spread civilization into the Stolen Lands. Half a dozen acolytes under his training stand at attention, ready to lead the ceremony.
Berrin arrives as he rushes in, but a cheer goes up in the crowd when he arrives. He spends the next several minutes making his way over to the stage, shaking hands and embracing the crowd. As a man of the people, he is popular and beloved by the common folk. Newhaven has not been around long enough for it to be dominated by nobility or entrenched moneyed families, so having Berrin as the Steward seems the culmination of the promise that Newhaven holds for all of them. One of the first thing that many of the settlers do upon arrival is head to the throne room of the castle to bend the knee to Newhaven. It is not required by the law of Newhaven to do so in person, but many choose to in order to see a common man on the throne. Berrin finally breaks away from the crowd and arrives on the stage, looking out at the vast crowd that stands before them and the other Founders (minus Taisper, who is off somewhere) standing with him. He holds his hands out, ready to give the speech to kick off the ceremony. While he is never excited about public speaking, getting it out of the way seems a good idea to him.
The day is clear and the skies are blue, fine weather for a celebration. Thus it is strange when there is a peal of thunder, causing all of the people around to look about in wonder. Is this a show or magical demonstration? The crowd starts to buzz in excitement, wondering what sort of amusements await. The Founders look at each other with confusion, especially Verik. Not being part of the scheduled events, he looks quite upset at the deviation from the plan.
None of them are prepared when two figures suddenly appear on the stage in a blinding flash of light. The crowd surges with surprise, shock, fear, and excitement. Shouts of joy start erupting when they recognize who it is.
Jemini Lebeda, back from the dead, finds herself standing on a stage with hundreds, if not thousands, of people around her. They are in a courtyard of a modest castle made of wood and stone. She looks down and sees that she is wearing just a shift of white cloth, enough to protect her modesty but not much else. She blinks, unused to the noise and the light, and turns around to see what is behind her. Standing behind her, with looks of shock on her face, are her friends and allies. Verik wears the fine clothes of a high cleric of Abadar, looking almost comically out of place in her eyes. When she sees Zander, she is taken aback for a moment because he is wearing the Stag Lord's helm, refashioned for himself. Svetlana holds a baby girl in her arms, while Oleg has only one. Berrin wears a crown on his head, but she can see that he only wears it when absolutely necessary by the way it sits. Taisper, the man she died to save, is nowhere to be seen. Kesten looks surprised to see him, but otherwise seems the same as before. Jhod Kavken wears the same clothes as before, looking even shabbier than normal compared to Verik's finery. Tandlara has a large crow on her shoulder rather than Riddleskin, but is the only one who doesn't look shocked, though that may be because of her difficulty in reading elven faces. Corwin looks pale and drawn compared to his strength before the battle, though he looks like he could likely still go toe-to-toe with any man in the nation. Akiros Ismort, who she last saw battling side by side with the Stag Lord, stands with them, armed and armored.
There is a second figure with Jemini, a man. At first, he hunches down in a crouch, but the crowd gasps when he stands. His face is not familiar to them, but his size is unmistakable to them. He towers above the others on stage, with a powerful hulking build only seen once before in these parts. While he is not scarred or wearing a helm, and wears just a simple white shift of cloth like Jemini, the people start to shout in fear. "The Stag Lord! The Stag Lord followed her back!" He looks at them with a squint, his eyes whitened by scales upon them and apparently not seeing many beyond the first few rows. He turns around, looking at the Founders and at Jemini with a look of confusion.
Jemini is startled to bright attention as the scene shifts so abruptly, her mind is in two places, maybe more - so one foot half tries to go forward, another back. Oh she could've... what... - I... She looks down upon herself, trying to take stock of the situation, it's not going quite as quick as she was hoping. Where, where did Pharasma send us to? Is this...? ...how much time has passed? A warning - then she smiles, to herself, I guess I can chalk this one up to the humor of the gods.
She bows, towards Berrin first, Berrin? ...I guess it makes sense...?, then also towards the congregation at large, before standing tall before the assembled. Their surprise is easily as great as mine, she judges, what form of celebration or event is this? - Nikolai! I must act quickly. She begins to speak, "I am Jemini, Jemini of Lebeda. And this" she steps next to Nikolai, his massive bulk acting as a frame that makes her appear delicate in contrast, she puts a hand reassuringly on his arm, "This is Nikolai Rogarvia! The last of the line of Rogarvia who should hold dominion over all of Brevoy!" She gives a moment for her words to sink in.
"As I can see my friends here, this must be the land we have fought and shed blood for. More than that, I died fighting here. I died fighting Nikolai on these lands, just as he died, fighting me. For many tales, this would be the dramatic finish that would stir hearts long after the coals have lost their embers - but for us it didn't stop there, it was just the beginning." Her voice carries with a sincere strength that resonates with all who can hear her and reassure of her conviction and honesty, "Death laid us bare, with no more reason to fight we had a chance to discover each others purposes, and the truths that fueled our actions - and what we learned forbade us to seek rest in the afterlife: a great threat will rise, a threat that if unopposed will become a red doom that will sweep through this world once more. Choral the bloody. Choral the slayer. Choral! The Conqueror! Is growing weary of his slumber, and he seeks to spill the blood of thousands once more."
"Not today, not tomorrow - but with the certainty of dawn each passing day brings us closer to the time when dragons do his bidding and armies march at his command." Jemini's face has hardened a little, giving her the countenance of a warrior, much of her apparent frailty clears from her and she's standing as an equal next to the mighty man of Rogarvia. "We have traveled far and long - through dread Abaddon itself, and the diabolic temptations of Hell, we rested our weary feet in the Eternal City, and we sought an audience with the mother of graves, Pharasma, herself. We pleaded our case, to return to life to foster the strengths and hearts of this land, to rise. To rise! Rise ever more boldly into a proud nation of men and women who hold freedom and love dear to their hearts, who will act without hesitation and with certainty against the tide of doom. We have returned, returned to fight Choral!"
Zander reaches for his sword before he comes to realize the source of this ..vision...he was having.
...Jemini????....and the Stag Lord????...what trickery is this???
His hand lingers a moment longer on the hilt, but then relaxes as she starts to address the crowd.
This was indeed Jemini ..and the Stag Lord is a Rogarvian???? ......and Choral returns???
He looks around for that smug bastard Alexi, Is this what he was going on about?
Resigned to the fact that Jemini is indeed back and the Stag Lord is not a threat in his blinded state, he does what a gentleman should. Zander removes his white deerskin cloak and wraps it around Jemini. He pushes the helm slightly back on his head, allowing the headband to work its magic face, revealing his magically mostly-mended face, "Good to have you back. I thought you might not want to stay away."
He then steps back to give the others room.
"I'm glad to be back - so much must have happened here, just look at it!" Jemini graciously accepts Zander's kindness. Zander, he's always been fast to act... his... face is healed, the magic. Why does it seem so familiar? Zander?
Good time to roll a 20.
When Jemini concludes her speech, a hush falls over the crowd. The assembled masses stare for a moment, then start going to their knees. From somewhere in the back, someone shouts, "All hail the returned Queen of Newhaven, Jemini Lebeda! All hail the returned King of Brevoy, Nikolai Rogarvia! Long live the King and Queen!" This shout is taken up by the commoners, who shout pledges of fealty and loyalty to them. The scene is immediately a true celebration, for the favored daughter of Newhaven has returned to take her place on the throne, and brought a king with her with a legitimate claim to the Dragonscale Throne as well.
Verik stands perfectly regal in stunned silence as the now-returned Jemini stands in the midst of the people's thunderous adulation. Jemini... So often thought about, grieved over, and perfected in every possibly remembered interaction that his mind could recall. Yet all of his waking memories and deepest dreams paled in comparison to what stood before him, just mere steps from his reach. Her voice...I could not hear her the last two times...yes that is what was always missing from my dreams... Verik's eyes begin to tear and his hands tremble as he reaches out towards her, half-expecting for her lovely and blessed form to disperse like the morning mists upon the lake. It was perfect.
Too perfect.
Verik's ordered mind snaps him out of his reverie, his half-raised hand comes abruptly down to his side, though hardly noticeable with her back to him and Zander next to her. Verik darts his eyes, to the great hulking form of...HE...the Stag Lord who now has a name. A noble name for a dreaded terrible foe, now come back as if out of some ancient fable from another Age. How can this be? THIS is whom she meant in her efforts to reach me back at Stagfall? The Gods deliver them both to this very spot, at this very moment? Can it be? A blessed miracle, or a wickedly clever performance...and you've seen clever performances of wicked trickery before, haven't you my boy?
Verik Jarrow, Head Banker of Sanctuary and High Cleric of Newhaven, is no longer afraid to do what must be done for the preservation of Order and Civilization, knowing full well the costs to all that believe in the fledgling Realm of Newhaven if they misstep now. He must be sure. Closing his eyes and slumping backwards into his chair, his left hand deftly grasps the holy medallion around his neck, while his right hand brushes the golden keys on his belt, and finds a small belt pouch with a single candle contained within. He mutters quietly but urgently in something other than Common tongue, as if utterly swooned and taken by the momentous event before him.
