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Chapter 33 - Trial and Execution
Yssha refused to leave Grams' body, so it fell to Marcurio to break the news to the rest. Nevan and Serana were unsurprised, having seen Grams fall and heard Yssha's shriek, but when he went outside Riften to tell Odahviing, he found a very upset dovah. "Why did thuru Yssha scream for Grams?" he demanded immediately. "Is she all right?"
"Yssha is, physically, but Grams was killed by one of the Emperor's bodyguards when he - the bodyguard - tried to kill the Emperor and Grams shoved His Majesty away. The killer got her instead." Marcurio hesitated. "I think he was using Mephala's Ebony Blade, which is ... troubling."
Odahviing snarled. "And the killer?"
"Is in custody of the Penitus Oculatus. Why?"
"Because when he is condemned, I would claim vengeance for my Clan Mother, my brod-monah. I am eldest, and in Skyrim, I have that right. As you did when you, Nevan, and Serana executed the killer and associates of those who assassinated our thur the first time."
Marcurio nodded. "I'll get word to His Majesty. I know he tries to follow provincial custom when it doesn't directly conflict with Imperial law, and I'm pretty sure that doesn't."
"Good. Then I will think on the best way to execute such a one. Unfortunately, most of our methods kill a vodov too quickly for him to suffer properly."
Marcurio hesitated. "Well, speed of death has to be at least roughly proportionate, so you couldn't torture him for days for a simple sword blow. How about dropping him from as high as you can fly?"
Odahviing considered that, his head cocked to one side. "Hmm. That may do, if something I have heard is correct. Are humans truly afraid of heights?"
"Not in Skyrim, with all the mountains we have here. Or at least not if there's something solid under foot." Marcurio grinned fiercely. "Yeah, that would be good."
"We work well together, clan-brother. It will be so, if I am given the opportunity. Nor will he find my claws in his shoulders comfortable at all. I will inform the rest of the dov of the Divine Crusader's demise."
Marcurio watched Odahviing's departure, then returned to Riften, went to Mistview, and asked to speak to the Emperor.
Dragon-borne news spread quickly, of course. By evening, everyone in Tamriel knew the Champion of Cyrodiil had been killed, and that the killer would be tried in the morning - and that Odahviing had claimed the right of family vengeance for the death of his clan-mother.
25 Last Seed 5E 3
The trial was immediately after the Emperor finished breakfast, and he would've conducted it himself but for being a close friend of the victim. Instead, he recused himself in favor of the Jarl.
Mjoll's first words, after the formal opening of the trial, were, "I should recuse myself as well, since I was a witness, but Skyrim law does not allow an outside Jarl to deal with a problem in a hold not his own, and capital cases must be decided by a Jarl. So this trial will proceed despite that irregularity."
When the prisoner was brought forward, she addressed him. "Festus Terek Sulla, you are accused of attempted regicide and the murder of Ysshaya of Ysshaya, Hero of Kvatch, Champion of Cyrodiil, and Divine Crusader, among other titles which I will recite if you wish. How say you?"
Festus shook his head. "I don't know, Your Grace. I honestly don't - everything went blank. I might've done everything you just said, but ... I don't know."
"Then we will assume a not guilty plea for now, and call the requisite three witnesses to the facts of your actions. Agent S'Riska. State your relationship with the accused."
"He was my assigned partner, Your Grace."
"And your account?"
"He and I were closest to the Emperor when he and the Empress descended to mix with your people. I was chatting with the Ysshaya - that means she was head of her Clan - when she moved suddenly to shove His Majesty away. Had it been anyone else, I'd have assumed lese-majesty, but not with her - then I saw Festus shove his sword into her back. Then within an eyeblink, both of us were paralyzed."
"Thank you, Agent, you are excused. Battlemage Marcurio Marcellus Julian, take the stand, please." When he had done so, she continued. "State your relationship to the deceased."
"She was my Clan Mother," Marcurio said slowly. "Yssha Dovahkiin, Nevan of outplane, Serana Volkihar, our adopted son Frejr, and I had formed a Khajiit-style Family. Yssha petitioned for acceptance into Clan Ysshaya, and was granted it. Not long after, we invited Odahviing into our Family, and he accepted."
"And your version of the events?" Mjoll prompted.
"Yssha and I were watching Grams - excuse me, Ysshaya - chat with Agent S'Riska, when she pushed the Emperor down. I'm a battlemage; I charged Paralysis for double-casting, and when I saw Festus' sword move, I cast. Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough to keep him from cutting down my Clan Mother." He glared at the accused.
"Thank you, Battlemage. You may step down."
Mjoll turned to the Emperor. "I realize this is most irregular, Sire, but you were the other closest person. Would you be willing to testify?"
"I would." He took the witness stand. "I am Titus Mede II, Emperor of Tamriel."
"And would Your Majesty please give us your version of events?"
"Certainly, Your Grace." The Emperor paused briefly. "The formal ceremonies had just ended, and my Empress and I had just stepped down from the dais to speak informally to your people. I saw a bit of movement and a flicker of black, I believe, to my right, then Ysshaya shoved me to the ground. I was about to ask her what in Oblivion was going on, when she collapsed and I saw Marcurio casting a spell at two of my bodyguards. It wasn't until a few moments later, as I was being helped to my feet, that I saw Ysshaya in a pool of blood, and one of my bodyguards being carried away, paralyzed and in shackles."
Mjoll rose and bowed. "Thank you, Your Majesty. By your leave, and with your agreement, I find the testimony compelling."
Titus nodded. "It is your court, Your Grace. As long as you don't violate Imperial law, I may not interfere." He left the witness stand.
"I will not, Sire." Mjoll turned to Festus, who was quite pale at this point. "Prisoner, you have heard the testimony. Do you have anything to add in your own defense?"
Festus was trembling as he shook his head. "Since I can't remember anything of it ... no, Your Grace."
"Then I sentence you to death without delay, at Odahving's h ... uh, discretion. Priestess Alessandra will give you last rites."
When that was done, Mjoll spoke again. "Guards, take him outside the walls."
Minutes later, those in the city heard a scream, then dragon wings as the scream continued, growing faint with distance. A roar of, "Dir, krivaan!" was followed moments later by a splash from Lake Honrich as those who knew enough Dovahzul translated Odahviing's "Die, murderer!" for those who didn't.
Yssha sat vigil with Grams' body as it was prepared for transport to the Imperial City. Priestess Alessandra and her acolytes kicked her out of the Hall of the Dead for the actual embalming, but Yssha was allowed back in afterwards, and no one disturbed her meditations.
It seemed disrespectful in a way, but sitting here with Grams' body in a place sacred to Arkay, it also seemed fitting that she try coming to terms with her immortality. She'd accepted it to save her dovahhe from the possibility of another Alduin, then accepted the necessity of her tempering for the same purpose, difficult as it had been. She hadn't thought it through at the time, though, and still didn't want to, but she did need to.
She remembered telling Paarthurnax that she could no more comprehend immortality than her vahriinne could comprehend mortality, except under the influence of Dragonrend. Was there perhaps a Shout she could use on herself to allow comprehension, at least temporarily? There were words for the concept of "immortal know permanent" - "vojoor mindok vofrul" - but that didn't fit the pattern Arngeir had taught her was necessary for a Shout, of having three one-syllable words. There was also the problem of needing to have a deep understanding of a rotmulaag to be able to use it in a Shout, and her lack of understanding of "vojoor" was precisely the problem.
She could ask one of her soul-sibs to share their knowledge of it with her, but she wasn't sure how useful that would be. They couldn't make the contrast she needed, between the two states, though once she worked it out as best she could, she'd certainly check to be sure she'd gotten the vojoor part right.
Mortality was easy, since she'd been introduced to it at a young age, living on a farm. Life depended on death ... everything a mortal ate had been living once, but by the time it was eaten, was dead. For her purposes, the undead could be disregarded; she wasn't, and couldn't become, one of those.
So. She herself could die, and probably would, numerous times. She'd already done it ... what, five times so far? Once assassinated in Dragonsreach, once for Ungarion's convenience, and she was reasonably sure three times during her torture. The process was painful, but not permanent; she would come back, as she already had. She'd like to ask Uncle Andreius about his experiences, but she was also reasonably sure that came under the promise she'd given Azura not to bring uncomfortable things up for a couple of hundred years.
A couple of hundred years. At her age, that seemed like it would be forever, but ... it would be only a tiny part of her life, and that was hard to comprehend. Her honorary uncles were both over that age, still hale and hearty. Like her, Andreius would remain that way, but eventually, they would both outlive Sorcalin. And Marcurio, and even their children. A hand instinctively went to her rounded belly, and she blinked back tears. She would outlive any children she might have, so ... perhaps only the one, much as she loved children. She wasn't sure how much of that kind of pain she could endure.
Ful -so. She would lose all her vodov friends, except Andreius - and Qolaas, if the undead Dragon Priestess ever relaxed enough to become a friend. No, wait ... she'd used the resurrection Shout, and that returned soul to body, so Qolaas wasn't undead any longer. Her High Priestess would die as well, then. She couldn't come to terms with all of that, just yet, but she would over time, she was certain. She'd have to, or go insane, and the Divines probably wouldn't allow that to Dovahjud and Stormcrown.
On the other hand, many of her friends now were dovah, as immortal as she, so she wouldn't lose them. Nor would she lose Bormah Akatosh, or Talos, or the other Divines. Or, she reminded herself, any of the Daedric Princes. Five were all right, one of the others she had plans for if she ever figured out how ... she simply shrugged. If she proved able to un-curse Jyggalag,somehow, she might let him handle the hostile five, or perhaps she'd do something about them herself. The more they acted against those she was responsible for or cared about, the more she was inclined to the latter.
She considered the Princes for a moment. Grams' murderer had used Mephala's sword, and unlike Honmund in Markarth, had claimed to remember nothing, not even a nightmare. She - or someone - should probably have suggested he be checked for Daedric compulsions, but she had been in too much shock to even think about it.
It was entirely possible the same went for the rest, as well. That sort of investigation wasn't routine, and required a stronger mage than even Marcurio. Not that he'd be allowed to, as an interested party ... as were the rest of her team. Nor would it have made any difference in the sentence, even if the victim had been far less of a historic figure. Well, it was too late to regret a possible oversight, even if she had cared, which she realized she didn't.
26 Last Seed, 5E 3
Yssha had intended to accompany the funeral cortege all the way to the Temple of the One, but those plans changed abruptly when they passed through Ivarstead with her and her team following the carriage with the bier, and they got more attention than Grams did. That was probably understandable, considering that Grams' exploits had been so long ago, but it still bothered her.
Once they were through the town and on the way to Helgen, back in their carriage, she turned to Marcurio and the others. "We are distracting from Grams' final journey, rather than enhancing it as I had hoped. I believe we should return home until the cortege actually enters the Imperial City, where her final triumph took place, and vhere we have done nothing of note. With maybe a few minor adventures to relieve our - or at least my - boredom while they travel."
Marcurio thought about that, then nodded. "I'm not so sure about the adventures, the way even seemingly minor ones can turn into major challenges, but ... you're right about the rest."
Yssha sighed. "Please, beloved. Although I am pregnant, I am not helpless. Even though I am not particularly fond of mage armor, I can use it, and I always have the Dragon Aspect Shout. I will remain out of melee range, as I already have been, but ... I need some action to help me keep from brooding about Grams."
"I think that would do all of us some good," Nevan said. "Maybe check out the story of giants near Largashbur, and keep them from getting any closer to Riften?"
"Umm ... " Marcurio thought for a bit, then nodded. "That shouldn't be too bad - and since you were named Blood-Kin to the orcs after we cleared the Forsworn out of Kolskeggr Mine, it's probably something we really ought to do."
"We will go there in the morning, then," Yssha said. She really needed to find a truly private place to practice using her dragon form, but she also really needed some action!