You take a moment to explore your surroundings, but beyond the obvious there is little to find. Of course, there’s always the question of how you ended up in this carriage in the first place, rather than in your bed at the Lorrimor house. You are not afforded much time for contemplation, however, as the carriage stops, the door opens, and a gauntleted hand reaches in to haul you out by the collar, dumping you on your back on the hard ground. There are a few laughs and jeers.
Blinking in the bright light, your vision takes a moment to adjust as you prop yourself up on one elbow, careful not to move too quickly in case your captors mistake your movements for an escape attempt. Plenty of time for that later; first, you need to work out what’s going on.
You’re in a dusty, cobbled square. There is a crowd. Immediately in your vicinity are a good dozen or so guardsmen. And then, with a sinking feeling, you recognise the guardsmen’s uniforms, along with a couple of buildings.
You’re in Tamrivena.
So good of you to join us.
Wait, that voice sounds familiar. From your prone position, you half-roll to look the other direction. It’s Theron. He is resplendent in a chased mithral breastplate, Iomedae’s sword symbol prominent on the chest. He also wears a cape and a circlet on his head. His bow is slung over his shoulder. The inquisitor looks bored as he signs a document handed to him by an aide.
Karrik. It’s been a while.
Confusion prevents you from making a rejoinder.
Did you really think I wouldn’t catch up with you? Theron says as he makes his way toward you. As he reaches your side, he happens to step into a position where the sun is behind his head. It looks like he has a halo. You stole, Karrik. You stole from the Professor. I’ve waited, all these years, for you to present yourself for judgement. But you haven’t. So now, here we are. I’ve had to take matters into my own hands. I’m sorry, Karrik. May the Lady of Graves have mercy on your soul.
Theron walks away as the guardsmen haul you up, and towards the centre of the square, where a Punishing Man awaits.
Wait…is Theron actually intending to burn you alive, just for stealing a book from the Professor more than thirty years ago? You struggle against the guardsmen, only realising now that your fate is so close, but it seems like your legs have turned to lead and your arms to water. You splutter and curse, but nothing intelligible comes out of your mouth, and you offer little resistance as the guards throw you roughly inside the Punishing Man, and then shackle you to the cut timbers that make up the inside of its chest cavity. Then, the guards finally retreat. You see Theron, at the base of the massive effigy, holding a torch.
I do this with a heavy heart, Karrik, he says. We were friends, once.
With that, he throws the torch onto the pyre and turns to walk away. The flames race up the oiled legs of the Punishing Man and begin to lick around your boots. The pain begins. You clamp your jaw shut, uncertain why this is happening, but determined not to give your oppressors the satisfaction of hearing your scream—
—when you wake up with a start, back in the Lorrimor house.
For a moment, all you can hear is your own breathing, your body slicked with what feels like gallons of sweat. Then, after a few seconds, you realise that somewhere, someone is screaming.