* * *
Lyric
* * *
I cling onto Ebrellin-i as soon as he comes to save me. It was a gamble, I admit - I didn't know if he would. But now I have him.
Except, he's still a dragon now, and he's not going to like what I'm doing.
I manage to climb on top of his head - I'm small, and he's quite big, as a dragon. There's plenty to climb onto. From there, I dig in. He can't shake me off. I've got excellent grip.
"If you go, I go with you." It's a simple statement of fact, and something that's enough to make me dizzy with fear. I don't want to die in Nul. I don't want to be there ever again. Something tells me that this time it wouldn't be like when I could walk about unharmed, unseen - this time, it really would hurt me. I'd die the same death as Ebrellin-i if I was lucky - the Jherent Nul sounds as if he has all sorts of awful uses for people he's not proven to be useless to him yet.
...But if it does come to that, and I die, will it really be as big a deal as if, say, Jhe Katherine died? No. I'm expendable, and I take a little pride in that. It's gotten me somewhere.
Ebrellin-i stays still. Good. That gives me a little more time to think of some way to fix all of this. Faun told me to find something worth saving. But what I don't understand is how to save it.
Then Faun makes my decision for me.
"Come at me, giant human-souled lizard. Come at me and get revenge."
We're back in the forest - me atop the dragon, Ebrellin-i under the dragon, Faun in front of us. Only, while I was off distracting the dragon part of Ebrellin-i... Faun was coming in close. The King is on his knees, and with Faun's short height it's just enough for the animism to crane his neck up and latch his teeth around the King's throat.
The dragon freezes. Heck, I freeze.
Faun's hand reaches up and unlatches the collar around Ebrellin-i's throat, the collar that was forged by Father and Diyn. The thing falls to the ground with Ebrellin-i's manacles, the chains following them. Ebrellin-i's body sways back and forth, but he manages to stay kneeling. He doesn't have much choice about it, really - Faun's teeth are still at his throat.
Then the chains slither up and wrap around the dragon, forming a bridle and reins that would lead up into my hands--
Don't you dare try to hold me, boy.
I drop off of the dragon and roll to the side, out of the way. There's only so much suicide I can threaten to commit in one day, and this has just grown out of my control. Possibly, it's still in Faun's.
The dragon gives one good struggle, but Diyn keeps his jaws clamped shut. Not a whisper emerges from them. Then his head comes crashing to the ground besides Ebrellin-i's swaying form. Faun disengages his teeth from the man's neck, then guides him to lie on the ground, curled up in the crook of the dragon's neck. He gives Ebrellin-i's body one pat. The he takes up the dragon's reins, and yanks them.
"Purge from him what you see fit to eliminate. If Lyric is right, then there might be something left after you're done."
I hear Diyn's reply as Elric pushes the quill back into my hands.
I can't imagine how.
* * *
Diyn
* * *
Something left? I don't see how it will happen - as it is I'm only eliminating what's been handed over to me bit by bit because the Animism has stipulated it. Otherwise I could simply eliminate Ebrellin-i all at once.
Hm, there's a thought. And a starting point. You need to lose that meddlesome title - you've no use for it, and you won't claim it as having value anymore. Why keep a thing that is useless to yourself?
And the King squirms as I strip away the parts that are the monarch, as I clean each and every one of the filth that is Nul... and then destroy them, one by one. These are not things he can keep anymore. Certainly they are nothing he's earned. And they're all guilty.
Every bit of him is guilty, of course. But taking it all bit by bit does have its merit. He pleads for his title, and thus learns the value it had for him as it's taken away.
Then it is Tia's, and the rest of him is mine.
I am not sure if I can consider this a cleansing. It is more of a carving. I do find it amusing that he was so intent on suicide - he's running from me now, every bit of him. They often run in the end. The ones that stand their ground often don't even need to stand Trial at all.
Ebrelle runs. It doesn't make things any less quick - in fact, it makes my job a bit easier, because the parts of himself scatter as they each try to survive on their own. I don't have to strip them off one by one, now.
Here's the bit that played at being a Father. So many stains here, so much black. In the end, there's something left - some worm of a thing that didn't intend it to go all wrong, didn't know what he was doing. I suppose it could have some worth in a whole person, but can't see how it'll survive on its own without the entire rest of a soul.
Here are the parts that kept animals, and slaves. Oddly there is more here to spare - some part of himself that desired to protect others, badly perverted. I doubt it could manage such protection now, as I've stripped away the meanness in it, the ambition, the dominance.
What is this? Something that loved to investigate. Ahh, yes, the part of him that decided to put wires on Bruce and Wagner, and aspired to figure me out through that strange game.
I am amused by it.
There is less Nul to clean here - he was a naturally curious and mischievous individual, and a large amount of the mischief of this part was... honest mischief that I really don't care about. It got him in trouble, yes, but isn't that a good thing, in that it could have kept him in line that way? He was his most clean when this part took to the fore - when he engaged in this 'science'.
I keep it whole, paring off some of the blackened edges.
The part that loved. I am not sure of love in so many cases - it is just as much trouble as it could be solution. With him it is doubly so. I am not sure what is pure and what isn't. What he considered to be 'love' was just another self-justification to keep and train others.
It's not love at all, really. Just something he trained into himself, and the blackest part of him. When I destroy it, there's nothing left to hold the whole together. Everything is scattered and unwilling to join, as would be expected of someone who acted out of fear in most everything he did. What is left? What part of him can even stand anymore, in this raw and unbridled version of a Trial?
Ah, it's really a question now of what's left around the edges, cowering. There's a lot of that - mostly Nul posing as him, and thus duly stripped and purged. There's a bit of honest fear that's left behind, and in some of that fear I find the actual love that he might have shown towards those he chose to protect, once or twice. It's crippled and blinded and stripped of skin already - Nul presumed to do what is my job, yet again. So, while it survives, I'm unsure if it could ever act as it should again. The fear is healthier, and far more of it exists in him.
Fear, torment, anger, anguish, dread, resignation, depression, dull shock. So many wonderful things that are quite whole after I clean them. Really, there's nothing in him that will stand and take responsibility for the crimes he's committed. Even after he's cleaned, if he's still found guilty then there's no worth to any of this exercise beyond mere semantics.
What is left of this peacock? I search so that it might answer to me. I find one last scrap of stubbornness. I scrape away what must be purged from it, and afterward it still manages to stand. I'll speak to it, then.
Do you have a plea?
It looks at me, defiance still hiding somewhere in those eyes. "I have been dragged here beaten and bloody and have been bloodied further still, and you ask me my plea now?"
Yes.
He has to think over it for a moment. "What am I supposed to say? Sorry takes back nothing that I've done, and won't bring back the parts of me that you've taken."
True.
"Sorry won't bring my brother back and won't undo what my Mother has done to my life and my world. I see nothing that I can aid you with, nothing I have left to offer anymore. I don't even see what choice I'm being offered, now."
That is a lie. You know what you are left with now. You may decide to try to live through this, or you can let me kill you.
He scoffs. "I can die in pain or I can die in different pain, then? Which makes me more or less guilty?"
Does your guilt even matter to you now?
He stiffens. "I want someone to answer for all that I've been put through. If it's not me that should, then I at least deserve to know it. If I don't live to know, then what was the point of being not guilty? Furthermore, if it's my choice whether I'm guilty or not, then what is the point of you Judging me? I fail to see how any of this is a proper and measurable method."
You certainly like to talk, don't you?
"Well, what is the point? There's certainly nothing I can lose anymore by asking."
Would you prefer your mother die knowing what she had done to deserve it, or die oblivious?
"I'd prefer she die knowing the pain she caused others and just how much of it she never had to cause at all."
I would prefer that you die, or survive this, knowing just what you are responsible for. I can't have everything that I want, and thus you can escape the knowledge and just die. There, you have an answer. Now choose before I decide to carve off a different piece to ask.
"I refuse to die in ignorance, thank you." Ah, yes. This part of him is the man that knew 'science'.
I run him through the same as everyone else. The pain in his eyes is evidence that he is no longer ignorant. I am sated.
* * *
'Sy
* * *
My eyes widen as I realize what Diyn has done. There's no point in blocking Mitheoni - no point at all. I couldn't, even if I tried.
Odd, then, that I find myself standing between him and Katherine anyway, unwilling to budge.
Katherine's eyes are wide. Our hands are clasped - she squeezes mine.
Mitheoni lowers his gaze, then looks off to the side completely. He must be conferring with Emperor Theos. A verdict. It's nice that he cares enough to double-check, but no. There can be no question.
There is no more Jhe o'Audiva Rocale. The Treaty has been broken.
* * *
Luciprochoros
* * *
I daresay everyone feels the Treaty break. Every Armed gives pause, every spider opposing them seems to tremble with a sort of zeal, and the Poet Hall echoes absolute alarm.
The Captain shows no concern at all, not one stutter or trip in his step. I follow him as he cuts through a rather overzealous spider - and then Stevane finishes the thing off.
You can go and fight without me, I say, even though I suspect her answer.
I want to see this man who is so much like Jhe h'Lete.
By then we've reached the Armed Hall, which the spiders can't break the wards of but the Captain seems to have no trouble entering. Funny, that.
I walk through the double-doors, taking note of how it feels to cross this particular threshold... perhaps for the last time.
The Captain whirls to face me, his head tilted at an awkward angle so that our eyes can meet. I keep reminding myself of how short he is - really he's about Stevane's height. It just doesn't come across while he's in action.
"I really must hurry," I say.
He narrows his eyes. "I'll hold ye accountable if something happens to 'im. I will. I'll never leave yer shadow alone, and none of yer dreams'll be quiet again." Then he turns on his heel and leads on without another word.
Stevane looks at me, the unspoken question in her eyes. I nod. She follows the Captain directly, and I follow her.
It isn't really that I need the protection. She's just doing what 'Sy would do, and I'm glad. It makes me feel more normal with this... with this silly hat on.
I hate this crown...
It's not really a thought intended for anyone, but I see Stevane pause for a step just the same. I curse myself. She's a Poet and I'm wearing the Poet King's crown. Of course she'd hear me.
I'm not sure how to apologize to her, or what for, really. I could have fixed this long ago, I'm sure, before it all spiraled out of control. Perhaps that's what I need to apologize for most, but... I'm not sure if it's worth anything, at this point. I'm not sure what I can even do as Jhe h'Logos now.
Then I set my eyes on the very image of the dead Jhe h'Logos, and every thought's gone out of my head. It's Elete. It really is Elete. My son, if I could ever call him that... alive, whole, and terrified.
Except he's different, and I know it. At least, I keep telling myself that.
Maybe Thelea made twins when she tried to make Elete. Who knows where our pirate friend could have found him?
Stevane chokes on a word, or possibly a whole sentence, and I wonder how stupid I was to bring her with me, so soon after she saw Elete's death. She clenches her fists, standing stock-still.
The Captain looks at me, wary as ever. "Ales. This man right here said he's got spiders hunting his arse down too."
My brow crinkles. "I didn't say that. I said we had a common enemy--"
"He pretty much said that." He glares down at the man who could be my son. "You seemed to think it was okay to bring 'im in, so I did."
'Ales' seems to be in shock for a moment. He shakes himself, then nods at the Captain. "Th-thank you." He wraps his arms around himself and shudders. On the floor is a sheaf of parchment leaves, some already inscribed. The quill rests against his knee, leaking a tiny pool of ink onto the floor. I glance across the words and my eyes widen.
He was writing the battle?
"Stevane. You can write." It's not so much a question as an order. I need her to write now, and because I need her to she'll be able. It's that simple.
She nods. For a moment she can't take her eyes off the man with Elete's face. She shakes herself, blinks away tears, and then sits on the floor. She takes the parchment and quill and sets to writing as if she were at her own desk instead of hunching over in the halls of the Armed Hall. There's a zeal to her actions that speaks of someone that's happy to lose herself in them.
That's good, then. I'm sure the fight outside will go well. For us, at least.
"May I?" I don't wait for an answer before I take a seat in front of Ales. It's my Empire, after all - at least for now it is. I don't know how long we'll last past the Treaty's breaking, but I have what's in front of me to work with, and I certainly won't stop until there's no choice about it.
Ales manages to meet my eyes. Those clear blue eyes... how could 'Sy stand it? I barely can. Of course, it's worse for me - I'm starting to read this man. I can't blind my own eyes - keeping the crown away from myself was the most I could do to stave off the kind of sight that just sees too far for my comfort.
And so I see this man, and where he came from. I see how long he's run away from the lands of Nul, and from the Jherent Nul's servants. I see just how wanted and how hated by Nul he is.
I see something else in his eyes, though. A light, perhaps. It's getting brighter with every second. Ales whimpers.
"I don't want to remember."
Then it blinds me.
* * *
Lyric
* * *
My writing comes to an end. The quill ceases its scratching against the grass. I look up.
Where the dragon was held chained against the forest floor, there is now only ash. Grey, powdery ash, as normal as what might have been left behind by a campfire. Ebrelle's body lies in the center.
I don't believe what I see.
His skin is pale and smooth, though still wounded by Faun's claws. The shadow marks, the very hallmarks that first had him dubbed as the Peacock King, are gone. It's not the most shocking change, though.
At first I think it's the ash coating his hair, but then I realize it's his hair I'm seeing. The whole length of it's gone white.
I wonder if he's alive. He's still very wounded by Faun's assault. The chain's not on him - it's off to the side, twinkling in the grass, not even touching any of the ash. But... he's so still and pale.
Then Faun looks over Ebrelle, inspecting what's been done. His nose wrinkles as he sniffs at the former King. He strokes a finger through the white length of hair, then strokes Ebrelle's cheek. He smiles that not-smile of his.
Then, he's gone, and we're alone in the clearing. No goodbye, no instructions, no help. In so many ways, Faun is a typical Animism.
After some deliberation, I step forward and inspect Ebrelle more closely. I can't tell if he's breathing. I see his hand is still covering the place where young Ebrelle had been stabbed.
Without knowing why, I lift his hand. I take comfort in the fact that it's still warm.
I don't know what to think about the strange light that flashes out from where the wound once was, then winks out just as quickly. Enough strange things have happened today that I just brush it off as another one of them.
"Jhe Lyric?"
I whirl around. The Peacekeeper? How did he get here? Who's that other guy with him? And what are they carrying?
My eyes widen. "GERALD!"
* * *
'Sy
* * *
We have been bought some time by the sheer fact that Mitheoni either hasn't been told what to do yet, or Emperor Theos must still be deliberating on it.
"The Most High must hold even himself to his own rules, but..." Mitheoni holds his hand up, still looking into the distance. "He is unsure whether any party has truly broken them. He would prefer not to be rash. On the other hand, he is unsure whether Audiva Rocale and Crux Radia can ever know peace again."
Ah. Of course - that was the reason behind the imposition of the Treaty in the first place. When Audiva Rocale and Crux Radia were at war, the hostilities escalated to the point of threatening most life in our hemisphere. I can't argue with the position, really - there's not much Crux Radia can do by this point besides a full-scale invasion to suppress future hostilities from the Xaillyndesse royal family.
But that's not Katherine's fault, and I'll not see her die today. Her hand's still in mine. She's said nothing yet.
...Is Father okay?
I try not to let slip in my demeanor just how much the emotion in her voice crushes me. I don't have what I can articulate as an answer for her. All Diyn cares about is whether Ebrelle has answered for his crimes. Knowing that he has done so doesn't tell either Katherine or I whether he's 'okay'.
I just don't understand why I couldn't go in. I'm the Advocate. Where the Law goes, I'm supposed to go. I didn't understand...
I look back at her. I only see the top of her head - she's staring at the ground.
I don't see why Faun didn't let me in, too.
I squeeze her hand. I feel just as powerless as she does. I'm always able to exert some sort of control over Diyn... this time, Faun took that role. I'd grown used to how things were and how our systems are set up... until now, I couldn't fully appreciate why we did things the way we did.
Then Faun appears before us all, as if in answer to my ruminations. He sketches one of his strange bows to me, then hesitates before Mitheoni. He settles on giving the Law of Chethar a vague courtesy nod.
But then, Chethar's Law doesn't preside over wild things. ...Not yet, at least.
"You may remove Ebrelle now. He has been cleaned." He cocks his head. "It seems your scouts have already reached him. You may join them, if you wish." He gives another bow to me, then disappears.
Katherine is gone. She may have left before Faun even dismissed himself. I give one glance to Mitheoni--
(so much consternation on his face)
--before I follow Katherine where Mitheoni can't follow either of us.
Just yet, at least. There's no telling if Emperor Theos will turn a blind eye to what Faun has done today.
* * *
