The Trial: Journey's End
Written by: AtheistBasementDragon
Edited by: The Usual Gang of Drunken Perverted Idiots
Chapter 48: Questions for Followers
...Pavilion...
Mu'Ulm's march to the fore appeared to all as the confident stride of an unbeatable champion, like a god of the arena, like a warrior atop the ramparts daring the world to come fight against what he defends. Towering over the tallest, broader than the broadest, every echo of his hoof over stone spoke of his inner resolve. But inside? 'This is worse than battle. By Kiril's balls what the hell am I supposed to say? And... to my kingdom, I'm just an uncommonly dangerous criminal.' As those thoughts ran through his head, he reached the podium and turned around, over at the table, he saw the curious looking defenders of the Queen of the Yard, the one who broke him to his knees, and then labored to build his people up. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, touching one hand to the armor as if to be sure it was truly real, and caressing his ax with the other, then his hand gripped tight on the shield's grip, and he opened his eyes. 'I can do this.' He resolved and met the eyes of the ones who sought to hang his commander.
"How did you meet the defendant?" Demiurge asked benignly.
"She challenged my authority, then kicked my ass." Mu'Ulm said bluntly. "I was king of the yard till then, after that, we had a Queen, if you want to call her that."
"She challenged you directly?" Demiurge probed, already knowing the answer, he held in his inner smile as he laid the trap.
"No, first she fought someone else, one of the lesser bosses." Mu'Ulm replied simply, narrowing his eyes as he felt a trap coming.
"What happened to him." It wasn't a question, despite being framed that way. Mu'Ulm clenched his teeth, then answered.
"She beat him most of the way to death. Then after that, we fought, and then she made the yard kneel in submission with that... thing, she does." He answered directly.
"As expected of Kiril's Angel." He said confidently, turning his eyes to the hooded commander.
"I see, have you seen her use it since?" Demiurge asked pointedly.
"Yes, she used it to ensure the beastmen couldn't flee, before she killed the survivors." Mu'Ulm answered honestly. He looked to the hooded Neia again, she sat still and unmoving except for the fingers that played with the necklace that lay on the table.
"So, no surrenders, just one brutal killing after another until nobody was left alive? Even then, surely you were pursued. What did she do to the pursuers?" Demiurge inquired with the corners of his mouth turned up only slightly, unable to suppress his pleasure at springing the trap.
"We had no pursuers, we fought only once together, the heads of those she killed, except for one whose head was ruined when she ripped it in half, are here." Mu'Ulm clenched his free hand into a fist, and the one on the shield, gripped the handle even tighter.
Demiurge hesitated, 'No pursuers but... how... I know I... Oh Albedo you cunning, cunning succubus, so that's why you looked so smug in your armor. Still, I didn't think you'd do that for a human.' He disguised his disappointment and carried on.
"So, she butchered those who lost the will to fight, used her skills to turn ordinary warriors into berserkers that would do the same, and finally, left a brutal sign of her passing for the Devor to find, in order to inflict terror on their hearts, after taking over a prison population by beating someone half to death and brutally crushing the rest, have I summed it all up?" Demiurge asked knowingly.
"I suppose but..." Mu'Ulm answered, only for Demiurge to turn and take his seat with a dismissive wave. "I'm through with this witness.
"A question." Albedo asked, "How many of the prison population did she kill?"
"None. After taking it over, she redistributed food to the starving, took from the hoarders... such as myself, then saw to our training and education. She built us up." Mu'Ulm answered admiringly, "As one would expect of Kiril's Angel."
"And when you fought together at the outpost, what would have happened if any had been allowed to flee with their lives?" Albedo asked bluntly.
"Then we'd have had pursuers up our asses before we got a third of the way back, catmen are fast, and they have relay stations, the Devor Empire is very well organized, even we know that much. We'd have had to fight every step of the way home, would lose who knows how many, if we survived, and even if we did, well the Devor Empire would feel the need to launch a punitive invasion, they did that once two hundred years ago, killed ten thousand of us just because one unit decided on its own to save a stolen village of a hundred. Since everyone died this time, it's just a mystery, after all, who would think a human could or would do something like that?" Mu'Ulm laughed a bloodthirsty laugh.
"So, in your eyes she did the only thing she could?" Albedo prompted.
Mu'Ulm's voice grew stern and serious, "In my eyes, she is Kiril's Angel come again, her god must be Kiril himself, no matter what his name is, look at me! I bear the gear of gods, just the two of us slew over a hundred and fifty Devor raiders in no time, and saved over a hundred lives, and that's ignoring the Fortress of Last Home. She absolutely did the right thing, the necessary thing. Kiril has turned his eyes to us, of that I have no doubt, and he has given us his angel to show us the truth we've forgotten! We've forgotten to be strong! We've forgotten how to do this!"
And he let loose from deep within his guts, a minotaur warcry and held his ax aloft. His battlecry rang over the pavilion and out into the streets. When it faded, he began to shout.
"Yes! Yes, it was right! Yes, it was necessary! Only the strong can have justice, only the strong can have vengeance, only the strong can be safe or save their own! The lesson was well learned out there and we will not forget it! She's no criminal! I'm a criminal! She!" He leveled his ax toward where Neia sat, "She represents the divine god of necessity and war! Whatever happened out there, 'had' to happen, and I believe that whatever happened in the place beyond this, during that war she was sent to, had to have been as bad as what happened on our borders with the Devor, for it to drive her to that state!"
Albedo felt Pandora's Actor touch her hand, and leaning over, she listened to him whisper to her with great rapidity.
"Alright, I think that answers everything, you can take your seat, and you'll be returned to prison after this." Albedo said with a very self satisfied grin.
Mu'Ulm departed the podium and went to a seat near to Mu'Bin, and sat resolutely and with his back erect, as close to his commander as he could.
"Then... I suppose there is only one thing left to do." Vanysa said sweetly. "We call General Neia Baraja to the stand."
...Menowa...Temple of Black Justice...
When Nua finished laying Raymond's body to rest, she lingered beside the stone coffin that now rested above ground. It was tightly sealed with a heavy, ornate stone, one that had a human form laying over the top of it, a human form that looked... suspiciously like Raymond.
She glanced at Solution. The maid demon looked back at Nua with an enigmatic expression on her face. Nua held the question on her tongue, swallowed it, and then said in a small, but confident voice, "Thank you." as she laid her hand atop the stone face on the lid.
Solution shrugged, "It's fine, he was an excellent killer, quite the demon, even if he did have a few soft spots, and you know what, it didn't hurt him at all when he went. There are worse things than that." She let out a malicious smile, "I ought to know, I'm 'one' of those worse things, and thanks to me, so are you." She approached and patted Nua's cheek gently.
Nua did not avert her eyes, "Some damn fine work we did on you, don't waste it."
"As you say... teacher." Nua replied sincerely, and returned to her work within the temple as the laborers did more work outside of it. So it was, until the following day she went to work, first reviewing supplies, and going over the latest set of orders when Mu'Sula's voice carried from outside her door.
"Come." She said perfunctorily without looking up from her documents.
"You've got visitors... a lot of em." He said with confusion clear in his wide eyes.
Her brow furrowed, "Services aren't for hours..."
He approached the small desk in the back corner of the temple and stood in front of her, "Yeah, that's what I said, but they said they're from the border, it's... well you know how I love a good story? Well they've got a 'good' story." Mu'Sula said urgently.
That had Nua's ear, she took up her papers and tapped them lightly on the desk to make them even, and handed them to her minotaur assistant. "Alright, tell you what, get these sent out to the relevant places, the order for the first group of undead skeletons is in there, I only have so many scrolls and so many wands, so we're going to need to requisition more of both, better get that done in advance, and on your way out, send those in." Nua's voice was clipped and professional, her golden eyes alight with confidence and eagerness to keep working.
"You got it... boss." He said politely and winked to go with his huffing laugh. He walked out with the contented strut of the well paid, 'Can't believe I almost tried to kill that one.' He thought to himself as he went out, and sent the others in.
Nua found herself then facing nearly a village worth of peasant minotaurs. She stood and gestured to the simple pews in front of them. "Come, sit, in the temple of His Majesty, god of strength and justice, I greet you as I would a sister or a brother, no matter our birth flesh."
This set the minotaurs at ease, enough so that they quickly sorted themselves into groups. By age and family.
"What can the priestess of Black Justice do for you today?" Nua asked as she took a central position on the one foot high raised floor, so that both pews were equal distance from her, and she was positioned in front of the long aisle's blood red carpet that ran over the cream colored stone floor.
The eldest of the group spoke and began to relate the story of their taking, and their dramatic rescue by the minotaur champion and the woman on trial.
"Mu'Sula was right, you did have quite a story to tell." Nua said dryly as the story came to its end. "I can hardly turn down a request from the very founder of my faith, the dark savior of my race, so the question is, what help would you like?"
"What can you do...?" The elder minotaur huffed out in the labored voice of the aged.
"I can provide you with training from our instructors who are dispatched to prison but reside here. I can see that you are trained for war, pay for some homes for you to live, essentially I can do what needs to be done to see you settled into new lives. My Pope would be displeased if I were ungenerous, and after all both our god and the pope herself has done for my people?" Nua shrugged, "I can't do less for those she saved."
Minotaur mouths old and young opened as she laid out what she was offering. "We aren't of your faith. So why?"
"I wasn't of my faith when our dark savior broke our chains and destroyed our oppressors. I wasn't of my faith when my god decreed we had a place in his empire equal to any human or other thinking being. Of my faith or not, you are my brothers and sisters in spirit, and as I would have done for me, I am commanded to do for others who have done me no wrong. That is the meaning of my justice." Nua's face was alight with happiness that distracted her, however briefly, from the fact that she had a treasured friend resting outside.
"I want to fight the Devor." A young minotaur, one clearly in his teens if she were able to guess it, his stamping hooves and developing muscles, and middling size, said that well enough.
"Combat training is part of my faith. Our methods were first developed by Neia Baraja, but then were refined by the servants of god in his paradise of Nazarick. Those who choose to join us, learn to fight in that way, and we provide equipment to those who wish to do so in a professional capacity. A few have even become Black Paladins now, like the Pope herself. I even met one of them once... terrible with jokes, but it is a truly deadly path to walk for those who make it."
Nua folded her hands in front of her demurely and her voice was as direct as it was gentle. "I will do these things for you in honor of my Pope, my past, my god, and your will to survive. But I will tell you what the maid demon who taught me how to fight, told me. It seems appropriate, given how rare and lucky a moment this is for you, 'Don't waste it.' For now, rest here in the temple, when Mu'Sula returns I'll have him see about more long term quarters nearby for you, and arrange for work for those who want it, or training in new skills with the instructors. Whether you convert or not is your own affair, it is only for me to carry out my justice as I know it to be."
"Thank you..." The eldest of the minotaur elders said, bowing his head deeply in gratitude.
...E-Rantel...
Skana practically whooped a battle cry as the minotaurs spoke and the head of the beastman was utterly crushed. The baby kicked within, "Yeah, you're right to be excited little one, that's your other mother out there, wherever she walks, even if she's thrown down to be a slave warrior, she will rise again to sway hearts to her will, one day... one day you will do the same."
Lakyus put her hand on Skana's shoulder, "Seeing the future are we?"
Skana let out a little knowing smile, "Call it an... educated guess. Look who this little one's teachers will be, how can we expect less than that she set the world on fire?" She closed her eyes and drifted into a daydream.
A wild haired young man in armor the envy of kings, twin swords aloft in front of legions... the name of his house on the lips of the horde as the legacy was handed to another generation... "I can't wait to meet you." Skana said down at her belly.
"Thought of a name yet?" Lakyus asked curiously.
"Zyanya if it's a girl. Gottfried if it's a boy." Skana said as she kept her face transfixed on the scene while the behemoth minotaur answered questions and spoke passionately in the Pope's defense.
"Think you'll ever forgive those two?" Lakyus asked out of the blue.
Skana shook her head violently. "Never. I can barely be in the same city as they are without my skin crawling. Traitors, both of them, I don't care about their motives, and quite frankly I can only even forgive the demoness because she was acting on orders... and it will still be a good while before I'll welcome her to my home."
"Guess I shouldn't have asked that, should I?" Lakyus asked shamefaced.
"No, it was kind of dumb... but that, I can forgive." Skana graced Lakyus with a gentle smile, "I know what you want to ask, but even for you... that's a lot, so please, please don't."
Both their hearts quickened... "She's coming to the stand..." Skana whispered. She put her hand over her heart as it pounded out a thousand beats a moment until Lakyus snatched Skana's free hand in her own.
"Relax, you know this isn't the end, this is just the beginning of it, please calm down, it'll be alright..." Lakyus whispered urgently as she drew closer to Skana's ear.
...Palace of the Draconic Queen...Balcony...
Queen Draudillon looked out over the trial as the minotaurs spoke. "You've got something on your mind, don't you?" She said to her undead advisor.
General Oma approached and put her hand on the Queen's shoulder. "You know I do."
"After watching this unfold for this long, yeah, I'd imagine so. Go ahead, out with it." Draudillon asked and took a sip from her goblet of fruit juice.
"Not wine is it?" General Oma asked in a neutral tone as she saw the goblet in the Queen's hand..
Draudillon didn't frown, she just held the goblet out to reveal the contents. "I'm done with that, Queen Zesshi made her point clear enough to me before."
"Good, and I was just thinking, after they find her innocent, you should pay a visit to the Papal estate to convey your personal gratitude. OK... truth be told, it was Vermillion's idea more than mine... but still." Oma remarked and took her head off and bounced it back and forth between hands like a ball.
"You're very confident to be that casual." Queen Draudillon remarked with a hint of doubt. "It didn't look nearly that one sided, oh sure, they hate the Devor, no doubt about it. But at the same time, while that might be enough for common folk, if their versions of judges are like ours, they'll minimize the influence of their own preferences. To my eyes, it could go either way."
"Maybe it's just my own bias talking then. The Slane Theocracy 'did' kill me, and they tried to kill you." Oma said bluntly. "Worked out, but still, nobody knew it would at the time."
Queen Draudillon lost herself in thought for a moment as she spoke, "Fair enough, but... maybe some optimism is good, a vote of confidence might comfort His Majesty have a message scroll convey the offer to himself and to the Pope's wife. We'll plan a gift suitable for a baby born to... hell she never did get an official title other than pope and general and squire, and her wife was never higher than a Vice Commander and an 'acting Pope'... nothing of high nobility but... I guess their child would technically be a princess even if she never uses the word. Yes, something suitable for a child born to a royal family."
"We'll assume something happy comes up next, and that one way or another, things will work out for the best." The Queen flashed a smile down at the head held in Oma's palm.
"There are worse approaches than that... now I'll shut up, looks like she's going to take the stand." Oma tossed her head up in the air, catching it neatly on her neck, she stood at Queen Draudillon's left hand, and together they rested palms on a stone rail, to watch the final hours unfold, one way... or the other.
