Disclaimer: Victorious belongs to Dan Schneider and Nickelodeon. Anything in this story that isn't part of the canon universe either belongs to Tsubasa K. Kruger or to someone else who will be appropriately credited in the corresponding chapter.
Note: The author is entirely too tired and forgot to update. Apologies.
Chapter 6 – Fall of the assassin
May 1st, 2010. Kalaus Manor, Tartarus
It was easy for the most powerful clan under Lucifer's will to fall into a routine – almost ridiculously so, in fact, because the Kalaus weren't given assignments as often as the other clans, being so strong and simply too overqualified for the kind of mission that saw even members of the second-best clan of Tartarus leave for Earth.
That lack of frequent work, coupled with the fact that there was only so much for a Demon to do in Tartarus when they weren't working, was what made the Kalaus interact almost like a very dysfunctional Human family (not that any of them would've thought of, or appreciated, the analogy). They were still cold and standoffish, of course, but they tolerated each other and hung around together far more often than any other clan.
This was one such routine day, average and painfully boring.
Of the current twenty members, five were gone on assignments, six were off doing whatever it was that the most sadistic bastards of the First Sphere did during their down time (which often meant hanging around the Abyss or Gehenna, in hopes of being allowed to help torture someone), one was in the Mission Office to receive an assignment (lucky bastard) and the remaining eight were hanging out in their manor's sitting room.
They'd long spent the topic of their latest missions and, seeing as no one was in the mood to train, had ended up complaining on how boring their lives were.
Really, being a Kalaus was mostly about glory and status, and almost nothing about actually enforcing their King's will upon Earth.
Things had been a little more interesting since their youngest (but not newest) member had been initiated. She, at least, always had a sharp tongue ready and was more than willing to kick their asses into gear.
Rivot von Gieri was serious and professional, even at fifteen years old, and she meant a constant source of entertainment for her current clan – even when she thought they were insane and unable to take their jobs seriously, which was all the time.
She also kind of hated them. Probably.
(Then again, she seemed to hate everyone but her Alumna, Kaira Dravo, and her promised, Raikai van Groumn – and, if one were inclined to state the obvious, the Knights and Lucifer Himself.)
Idvke Groumnhold was seconds away from opening his mouth (something which more often than not started fights that ended with Kalaus Manor in need of repairs) when the double doors opened with a bang, revealing the youngest clan member with her permanently inexpressive face.
Several Kalaus surrounded her immediately, asking all at once about her new mission, and even the few that didn't approach the teenager were almost sitting on the edge of their seats out of pure anticipation.
Rivot's cold red eyes stared at each of them until they quieted down. She only spoke when her usual voice, barely above a whisper in volume, could be heard with no issue. "You are annoying me."
The group backed away some, shuffling almost sheepishly. One of the Demons that had remained in their seats stood up in that moment and conjured a glass of water, which he handed to the girl in silence.
"What is your mission?" he asked once she'd drunk half the glass.
"Kill a triple-protected, imitating natural causes, with no collaterals within a three-week deadline starting tomorrow. I have also been given an ishva."
The older Demon, Kramlov van Groumn, nodded in understanding, his expression showing that he felt the permits as unnecessary as she did.
"So your target has three Guardians and you have to avoid killing them too?" Idvke spoke up, rubbing his chin. "What a shame. It is always a pleasure to destroy one of them."
"Last time you fought a Holy, the whole clan had to go support you" she reminded him, voice colder than was usual even for her, not even bothering to look at him. The reason for that was clear when she added "And I was nearly killed."
"I already apologized for that."
"If we don't think it enough, you shouldn't presume Rivot would accept your worthless apology" the first Demon snapped.
"Peace, Kramlov. He's not worth it."
He sneered, but didn't argue. Rivot looked at Groumnhold down her nose (an amazing feat, as he was nearly a head and a half taller than her) and decided to twist the knife a little further.
"Remember that several of us would've rather see you dead, Idvke. The only reason you're still alive is that His Majesty wouldn't have appreciated it if we hadn't done our best to keep you in this life."
With that, she handed the glass back to Kramlov with a small nod of gratitude before she left, moving up the stairs and presumably to her quarters. The assembled Demons waited until her door closed softly before nearly all of them burst out in laughter.
"Oh, she absolutely loathes your very existence" Aarash Gieri chuckled.
Junst Sedzava sighed. "Be careful, Idvke. Were it not for the Code, she would have killed you already."
Kramlov snorted. "Please, she's likely searching for a loophole to justify murdering him."
The rest cracked up at that, and a few started to howl when Idvke quickly retreated to his own quarters on the opposite end of the building from Rivot's. Predictably, none of them cared that they were close to losing control over their bowels with the force of their amusement – Rivot was, after all, much more liked by them than Idvke, who was only in the clan because of their matriarch's respect for their previous leader.
If Demons had any knowledge of such emotions, they would've admitted to being glad to have her in their clan, and would happily accept they saw her as family if they understood the concept.
It had never occurred to any of them that they might one day lose her.
–o–
While her partners continued to humiliate the most pathetic member of their clan, Rivot was having her own problems as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror every Kalaus quarter possessed, an object she despised with all her being due to its unnecessary extravagance but tolerated because it helped her make sure she was presentable.
She always was, of course. Since she began on the high ranks her hair had been tinted black with clear silver lines, cut to a manageable length and pulled back with a simple leather string. She wore the regulatory black uniform whenever she was on duty (which wasn't very often, now that she was a Kalaus) and a semi-formal outfit that reflected her station during her downtime. As jewelry she used only the silver-and-red ring of the Kalaus clan on her right hand, and around her neck the choker that Raikai had given her as a symbol of their promise.
Simple, appropriate, functional and sufficiently elegant. Exactly as a Kalaus should look.
Now, however, her worry wasn't on whether her uniform looked presentable (it was), but rather on the tattoo she'd gotten after her last mission three months before – a twirling vine-like design that moved up the column of her throat. She was proud of her marks, because they were the proof that she was an useful tool that her King could call upon at any moment knowing that it would work as needed, but now...
That target, a retired Archangel living two miles south of Sagarmatha, had somehow had time to talk to her before she took his life, and she couldn't help but to wonder about his words sometimes.
She should be reading the thick file she'd copied from the Archives, to study her new objective, but instead she was touching her latest tattoo as she frowned at her reflection.
The Archangel had looked... almost broken when he commented on what a pity it was that Tartarus had made her a murderer before she stopped being a child – that it was so sad that she seemed almost dead inside, that her face didn't appear as if it had ever shown a smile...
Rivot couldn't understand what he meant, no matter how hard she tried, and if she had a flaw it was how much she loathed not understanding something. She could get obsessive if she didn't, ponder on the issue until her head hurt and she couldn't think of anything else, until she forgot to focus on something else – anything, so long as it took her mind off that frustration.
Case in point, she was still replaying the last words of a victim three months after his death, when normally they were little more than a number on her service record and a note on the mission books every Assassin personally wrote.
Her hand twitched to reach the mission book tucked away on her jacket's pocket, but she lowered it and fisted it at her side.
She sighed and shook her head.
"This is ridiculous" she murmured to herself, for perhaps the fiftieth time that week.
Rivot whirled back to her desk and the file that awaited her study, once again balancing the advantages and disadvantages of throwing that damn mirror away. Maybe, part of her thought, she wouldn't be thinking about a dead Archangel's last words if she couldn't see herself in there anymore.
(Besides, it's not as if the thing was paramount to her appearance – she hadn't really needed a mirror to assess her looks since she was twelve.)
She was kind of tempted to throw it at Idvke's head – accompanied by a suitably large fireball. Groumnhold was the most annoying individual she had ever met, and even if she was incredibly short-tempered she was constantly close to actually acting on her temper whenever he was around. She would gladly kill him, but the Code sadly restricted the possibility of a Demon physically harming another to training and Idvke, no matter his general stupidity, had enough common sense to not train with her.
Which was a pity, really.
Rivot sat at her desk and opened the file, taking the personal information sheet before looking into past attempts to kill her.
Jade Autumn West, born on the eleventh day of Haijah, year 9981 – so she is fifteen years old, Rivot thought, frowning. Protected by Guardian Angels Catherine Valentine, Robert Shapiro and Andre Harris...
Her frown deepened at the first Guardian's name and she looked for her own sheet inside the file. Once she found it, she scowled. So she is related to Callum Valentine – same bloodline. The Valentines are traditionalists, so they live in the same area and look after each other's charges, which would give my target three extra protectors. Just what I need.
Robert Shapiro is a half-breed from a fairly unremarkable line, nothing much to worry about, especially with his sire dead and no close relatives of immortal blood.
Andre Harris... his sire is a half-breed from a normal line, so that bears no complication. On the other hand, his maternal bloodline is notorious, not too keen on tradition, but strong enough to offset the weakness inherited from his sire. He is also a known disciple of Phillip Luna, which makes him the biggest threat after the Valentines.
She looked back at West's sheet and narrowed her eyes. Three formal Guardians, plus three informal protectors, one of whom was Callum Valentine? And she was also living in an area where a strong Archangel, known for fighting Lady Rivot el Svairnz to a draw (not a small feat, as she'd been the second strongest Knight of her time), had established his home.
What is so special about you, girl?, she wondered. Why is it that you have such a protection, and why does the King of Tartarus want your head so badly?
Before she could ponder too deeply, a knock on her door distracted her. The young Kalaus glanced at the sensor chart on her desk to confirm her visitor's identity and lazily unlocked the door with a simple spell, refusing to stand up even for her mentor. Still (and she'd deny it to her dying day), her eyes softened just the tiniest bit when her eyes fell on the old man, the elder Assassin of their clan.
Junst Sedzava stepped in at the unspoken invitation and nodded at her, his own expression softer than usual, with his hands clasped behind his ramrod straight back as any dignified Demon of as high standing as theirs was supposed to stand.
"Good morning, young one."
"I've told you not to call me that, Junst" she reminded him, turning back to the file on her desk. "Repeatedly."
He merely tilted his head, unfazed by her indifferent reaction and nearly bored tone of voice. He was used to her attitude, as every Kalaus (except for Idvke, but he didn't count) had grown within the first year of her membership – it was warranted, after all.
Rivot von Gieri was extremely talented, perhaps one of the strongest in all the history of Tartarus, and her Master's betrayal when she was very young had forced the Orphan to work twice as hard to overcome prejudices and reach the top.
(There were still fools who looked down on her, but she'd risen high enough for those naysayers to be insignificant.)
Her talent and hard work had been appropriately rewarded, which was always a delight for older Demons to see. The Kalaus clan in particular had followed her career closely, expecting great things from the young girl whose ancestors had always, without fail, become part of the elite Assassin clan.
They'd been surprised when she became a low rank matriarch at eight years old, only to be ascended into the middle ranks a year later, having expected her to take longer with her Master's betrayal casting a shadow over her accomplishments. They were satisfied when she was given an Apprentice with barely ten years, and when she was chosen to lead a middle-rank clan at almost twelve years old.
They felt excited when she rose into the high ranks just eleven months later, knowing that it was just a matter of time before she was one of them, and giddy when Laneit el Gourae immediately requested the preteen be allowed to become a Kalaus – of course, the request wasn't accepted until six months after Rivot was inducted into her first high-rank clan, but just knowing that she was soon to be one of them (no one even considered that their King might deny their matriarch's request) was exhilarating.
Still they were dumbstruck when their leader got back home one day followed by a pint-sized Assassin carrying her bag, as they had expected the request to be accepted several months from then – years, even, as no one younger than twenty-five had ever been initiated into their clan. Rivot ignored them all that day, even when Laneit introduced her to the handful of Kalaus in the sitting room, and followed her up the stairs to her new quarters without complaint.
With time, they learnt that she was more of a prodigy than they'd thought, but she was also emotionally and socially stunted to an extent they'd never seen. Kalaus were already oddly open, for Assassins, and it was strange for them to welcome into their ranks a teenager who had absolutely no intention of opening up to them.
Rivot seemed physically incapable of letting her guard down around them, and it took almost a year for them to know anything personal about her – and even then, it was thanks to her most regular sexual partner, Raikai van Groumn, who often popped up and disappeared with Rivot into her quarters.
(He was the only one who ever visited, the only one she ever allowed inside her bedchamber, so it was to no one's surprise when one day they emerged from her quarters with promise chokers.)
Still, it barely took half a year since meeting her for all the clan (again, except for Idvke) to grow fond of her, finding her attitude oddly endearing. They knew there was much more to her than the insignificant amount she let show, and couldn't wait for her expression to soften.
Perhaps when Raikai rose to the Kalaus clan, as he was sure to do?
"Are you going to just stare at me? I do have better things to do with my time, and I'd expect you to have something to do."
Junst blinked, brought out of his daydreams of how she'd look with a similar expression to that often adopted by the other female Kalaus (it would be a magnificent sight, he knew – the von Gieris were all unfairly attractive, and devastatingly perfect when they actually had some emotion in their faces), and bowed his head in silent apology.
"I apologize, Rivot. I got lost in thought."
"You'd better not be worried about me."
Junst raised an eyebrow. "Should I have any reason to?" he shook his head. "No, you are perfectly capable of dealing with anything that His Majesty would task you to do. I'm certain you won't need the three weeks you've been given."
She pursed her lips. "I should hope not. This is certainly the kind of mission that would require a Kalaus, but still nothing much to worry about."
"We rarely have to worry about a mission. But remember that expecting too much of yourself can make a fall hurt harder."
"I will keep that in mind."
Had this been anyone else, those words would've been too arrogant – but this was Rivot von Gieri, so her confidence was more than deserved.
"When do you plan to depart?"
"Tomorrow morning, perhaps, once I have a grip on everything I need to know to successfully complete my mission."
Junst tilted his head. "And I suppose you plan on having young Raikai over tonight?"
She scowled at him. "What does it matter to you?"
"It doesn't. I just thought that perhaps you'd prefer it if Groumnhold was... kept at a reasonable distance."
Rivot's scowled turned positively murderous, perhaps remembering the last time the other Demon had barged into her quarters. Junst nodded his head in agreement – Idvke had no sense of propriety.
"I doubt I will see you before you leave," he said, and she involuntarily snorted at the reminder that he was not a morning person, "so allow me to wish you a good hunting, Rivot."
She almost answered that she didn't need good wishes, but at his quirked eyebrow (she'd retorted that way more times than she cared to count) she sighed. "... Okay."
Junst was faintly amused that she looked almost hurt by saying that, and it wasn't even a proper thank-you. He didn't allow that to show in his face, and instead just bowed his head in farewell before leaving her alone to prepare.
She stared at the closed door for a full ten seconds, part of her feeling oddly torn, and then she shook her head and turned back to her desk.
She had an assassination to plan.
–o–
May 14, 2010. California, USA.
It wasn't the first time that Rivot von Gieri felt painfully bored during a mission (she'd readily admit to that, being familiar with the sensation since she was roughly eleven years old), but she couldn't remember a worse mission – except perhaps for the Karelia train wreck, when she was forced to wait hours for the vehicle to come into position after a few days to steal the schedule, plan the attack and set it into motion.
It's easy to kill a triple-protected, she grumbled in her mind. What is not easy is having to avoid killing anyone else because His Majesty wouldn't be impressed with usage of an ishva. Especially since He already expects so much of me.
The Guardians weren't a bother – she knew that she could very easily kill all three of them (plus the adult Valentines) before anyone realized there was a threat nearby. Not even Callum Valentine was too troublesome, for she knew she could defeat him if she was forced to fight him.
The problem was that after almost two weeks of watching her target she had yet to see her alone, because even when she was sleeping there was someone around.
The target was rude, cold, distant, hateful and overall apparently annoyed by everyone around her, even her Guardians, and yet they were always watching over her.
It was inconvenient.
There was simply no way that she could get to the target without having to get past her Guardians, and she was supposed to leave them alive even though it would've been easier and simply more convenient if she could just kill them. Why her King wanted her to avoid collaterals was completely beyond her – maybe He desired to leave them unhurt as a message to God, to show the Holy Father that His loyal subjects could get to anyone under God's protection without anyone realizing?
If she thought about it, that was perhaps the reason she'd been assigned this mission – because she had a record of always sticking to the mission parameters, taking only three of the one hundred and fifty-two ishva she'd been granted during her long career (a fact she was rather proud of). She didn't really need the permits, not when the parameters were so easy for her to work with.
She was currently huddled atop a tree on the back of the West property, with only Harris in sight, while she could sense Valentine's aura by the front and Shapiro further away. If she attacked now, none of them would get to her in time to stop her – if they even manage to feel the attack, which she sincerely doubted.
This was the best scenario she'd faced in the time she'd been observing, with the Guardians growing sloppier as time passed, and she knew herself enough to know that her frustration was close to making her forget the importance of stealth. True she still had a week before her deadline, but did she want to risk her impulsiveness getting the better of her and making her barge in to kill everyone?
There were strict mission parameters on her orders, and a mass assassination was allowed only by a shameful ishva.
No, it was better to attack now.
She'd long judged that, if she was to attack while her target was inside this building, the back was the best entry – there was a glass door, ridiculously easy to open with magic, and according to her studies of the property while it was empty the stairs to the second floor and the target's quarters were close by.
She didn't need to move to search for another way to enter the house, but this entry left the problem of Harris. Of course, Rivot could knock him out without anyone noticing, though she'd have to use a well-placed hit to the back of his head instead of risking any spell – she wasn't certain as to their sensitivity to active magic (she'd only needed the files to know they were almost useless at scanning their surroundings for immortals), so she'd been avoiding any usage since her arrival just in case. Now was really not the time to flaunt her magic.
As to what she would do with the target... Rivot scowled in annoyance.
She was perfectly aware that the best route was to take a knife to the target's body, thus staging a robbery gone wrong as she'd done several times. That, however, would require intervention from a Handler team to set the scene and plant evidence, which was not an option for several reasons – not the least of which was the fact that she'd need to use her ishva.
Therefore, she would have to stick closely to her parameters and stage a natural death.
Sighing quietly, Rivot took a cheap, small writing pad out of her pocket and flipped to the back for her notes on the target.
It didn't take her long to find the notes she'd made on the target's health and bloodline quirks, and what she saw made her eyes light up in satisfaction – there was a history of propensity to heart attacks at a young age on her sire's ancestry. Inducing a heart attack was ridiculously easy, especially in humans, which was making Rivot's mission all the easier.
She only had to wait for the perfect moment to knock Harris out, sneak into the building, make her way to the target's quarters and cast a simple spell to make her heart give out.
Just as she was starting to get comfortable for the wait, her blood thrumming with the thrill of an upcoming kill, the Guardian yawned – and she froze, because really? How could God hope for his Guardians to protect humans if they suffered from a flaw as pathetic as showing tiredness on the job?
There was a reason why the Devil always got His way in the end, she thought with slight annoyance as she prepared to cast the simplest spell on her repertoire to make the Guardian fall asleep. Demons needed their sleep just as Angels and Humans did, true, but they could easily go a few days without sleeping (evolution at its finest) and Assassins trained themselves to last longer.
During the twelve days she'd been on Earth, she'd only needed to take a short nap once, three days ago, and she'd waited until the Guardians and her target were away before making sure she was perfectly hidden and closing her eyes.
This was so completely unprofessional it made Rivot almost irrationally angry, and she sneered at him for a moment as she contemplated whether leaving this sorry excuse for a Guardian alive was really worth not using her ishva.
She'd only be doing everyone a favor, really.
In the end, she mentally sighed and dropped the idea, because incompetent Guardians only made the Assassins' jobs easier.
She waited for the Guardian to yawn again, and not a minute later she was calmly opening the door to her target's quarters.
Rivot stepped into the room, unconsciously not making any noise (practice made perfect, after all, and she'd had a lot of practice sneaking around unnoticed in the almost eleven years she'd been an Assassin), and took a quick look around – mostly to make sure there were no hidden surprises, which she honestly doubted seeing Harris' incompetence, but also with a small amount of curiosity about the teenage girl who required three Guardians and had a Kalaus after her head.
Part of her was reluctantly impressed, and she faintly thought that this was one kind of decoration she wouldn't mind having in her quarters if she ever considered bothering to show that someone lived there. The style was reminiscent of Raikai's quarters at Konlai Manor, which was perhaps part of the reason she would consider decorating her quarters this way.
She quickly spotted the target sleeping with her back to the door and walked closer, noting how nothing on the target pointed at her even subconsciously realizing that there was a predator in the room.
Rivot allowed herself to sigh, again disappointed at humanity, and raised her left hand with the correct seal at the ready and a spell on her lips.
She was paralyzed. Her magic wouldn't move. But this wasn't an immortal's work.
Next thing she knew, a strong hand clasped her shoulder and an unknown magic sucked her into darkness.
–o–
May 15, 2010. Shaytan Palace, Tartarus.
The first thing Rivot was aware of when she regained consciousness was a sharp pain in her side, followed closely by the sensation of cold obsidian floor under her limp body and cuffs around her wrists and ankles, joined by a chain. Before she could gather her bearings, someone roughly grabbed her and twisted her body until she was kneeling on the floor, her hands kept behind her back and hands grabbing her shoulders, and her head kept down by a painful grip on her hair.
Rivot attempted to shift, but one of the hands on her body left long enough to deliver a potent hit to her temple before returning to bury its nails on the back of her head.
"That's enough" someone ordered sharply, and she almost recoiled at how familiar that voice sounded.
"Yes, it is quite enough" another spoke up, harsh and cold. "You failed Us, von Gieri. You were unable to complete your mission – worse, you chose to let your target live. What do you have to say in your defense?"
"I– I beg Your pardon, Your Majesty," she said, feeling her blood run cold at the knowledge that she was being held like a criminal in front of the King of Tartarus, "but I don't understand the accusation. I was going to–"
"Do not lie to Us, Assassin!" Lucifer interrupted her with a booming voice. "We know everything, and you are guilty of one of the worst crimes Our servants can commit!"
She paled, terrified and confused and ashamed and in pain, and gulped in a futile attempt to alleviate her dry throat. "Your Majesty, please, I do not understand..."
Rivot could almost feel His sneer, and she inwardly recoiled as her words trailed off.
"Be that as it may" He said after a pause. "You were unable to complete the mission assigned to you, and if it happened once you are likely to fail Us again. You cannot be spared the punishment you deserve for your failure just because you were likely to be the most powerful of Our Assassins within the next year and one of Our most trusted lieutenants within the next three."
Her eyes grew wide at that, and she was conscious of eight people shuffling and murmuring close by – the six Knights, surely, plus likely the pair of Enforcers holding her. Still, she couldn't blame them, being very much confused herself.
I was on the path to be the Kalaus matriarch and possibly a Knight of Darkness before turning eighteen years?, she thought, feeling faint.
That was such a shock that she couldn't even begin to feel offended that her King had uttered the words she most hated to be said about her – likely to fail.
"Your Majesty," the Knight who spoke first stepped forward, kneeling between Rivot and the dais and lowering his head, "please forgive my indiscretion, but I would beg you to think this carefully. To lose such a talented young Assassin..."
"Are you defying Our command, Lord Mias?"
Rivot gulped, and a part of her she'd thought long lost begged the man to stop talking, because their King's voice had taken on a dangerous edge and she didn't want him to be punished for defending her – not when King Lucifer was already convinced of her guilt.
"No, Your Majesty," the Knight answered quickly, "I would never think of doing so. I was merely speaking my mind on what we believe would be a better idea."
"And what would that be?"
"The punishment on chapter 9, article 3, paragraph 9 of the Old Code, Your Majesty. It remains in force after You ordered the new laws."
Rivot tensed up, as she ignored the contents of the law that had ruled over Tartarus for close to seven thousand years (that was a document which only the Primordial Sphere had access to, not even the Kalaus having authority to even look at the scroll) and having that Code hang over her head now was... unsettling.
She didn't like to feel unsettled.
Lucifer stayed silent for a long moment. "Are you alone in this, or do any of Our Knights agree that Rivot von Gieri should be judged by the old laws?"
Rivot couldn't see them, but she could hear the remaining Knights kneeling behind her.
"For all that is worth, we do, Your Majesty" a female Knight assured him.
Lord Mias spoke again. "If she is talented enough to become a Knight before leaving her teen years when no one has achieved our positions before being at least twenty-five years older... well, I do believe she might be one of the most powerful Demons that Tartarus has ever seen."
"We don't believe it wise to punish her by the new laws, Your Majesty, not when it could mean losing her to Heaven" another Knight pointed out.
Rivot frowned at the floor, insulted that someone would think that she'd ally herself with the greatest enemy of her people and confused as to why a Demon (let alone her) would ever do that, but saw that at least they were supporting a softer punishment and so decided to remain silent.
Lucifer didn't speak for long minutes. Rivot, already terrified, grew more and more nervous by the second – He was the only being in all three worlds who could scare her, which was really basic common sense, but still she would never let it show.
She wasn't weak.
But she did tremble when her King finally spoke again.
"Very well then. Considering your advice, We shall decide. Rivot von Gieri," he talked at her, and the Enforcer holding her head pushed it further down, "for the breach of your sworn duties, you are sentenced..."