Chapter 25

Consolidation

To His Glorious Majesty, Aluciel av Cerinel, King of the Bjoulsae River,

My sincerest apologies for the lengthy delay in both my correspondence and my return. My journey to Cyrod has been fraught with hardship and danger, which has unfortunately prevented me from contacting you sooner. Hopefully, this message shall answer any concerns that you have regarding the progress of my mission.

Over the course of the past few months, I have completed my journey across the breadth of Cyrod, from the Kingdom of Sancre Tor to the shining tower of the White-Gold City, and finally to the distant southern port of Veyond. You shall be pleased to learn that I was able to secure an audience with the Council of Elders in Cyrod, as you requested. Unfortunately, most seemed disinterested in our offer, though I presume that such a setback was to something Your Majesty anticipated. Nevertheless, there were a few kingdoms who expressed interest in potentially establishing trade routes with your kingdom. I shall list these prospective partners in a separate document for Your Majesty to review and consider.

It is also my duty to inform you that in the months since I arrived, the political landscape of Cyrod has changed dramatically. Perhaps Your Majesty has already received word, but if you have not, allow me to inform you. A slave uprising has begun, instigated by a woman known as the Paravant. To the shock of the ruling Ayleid kingdoms, this uprising has achieved remarkable success in a short period of time. As I am writing this, they have gained control of both the southern Niben River and the distant northern city of Sancre Tor.

These strategic locations ensure that this rebellion now controls imports into Cyrod through both the northern mountains and the seas, which may result in difficulties if Your Majesty wishes to establish new trade routes with the Ayleid kingdoms, particularly if those kingdoms oppose this uprising. While I would not presume to instruct Your Majesty as to how you should approach this volatile situation, I have spoken with representatives of the rebellion, and they appear amenable to considering a trade relationship with the Kingdom of the Bjoulsae. Of course, Your Majesty should also consider the potential repercussions of negotiating with rebels, especially should it fail.

Naturally, I shall carry out your will regardless of how you choose to address this new development. In addition, I seek your leave to remain in Cyrod for the foreseeable future. As this rebellion does not show any indication of ending anytime soon, I wish to continue to observe so that I might provide you with additional counsel as the war progresses.

Should you choose to reply via falcon, please send your message to Sancre Tor. Despite the rebellion's control of the kingdom, the falconers in the city have announced that they shall continue to convey messages throughout Cyrod. I eagerly await your reply.

Your Humble Servant,

Atkynd av Sunnagea

Telepe set down his reed pen, barely able to keep from chuckling as his eyes raked over the letter once more, scanning it for imperfections. He was feeling slightly giddy, considering how many half-truths were peppered throughout the letter. Nothing he had written was an outright lie, but certain details – namely, the omission that much of what the rebellion had done was in large part due to his own efforts – did not need to reach his king's ears. After all, he was simply trying to secure the most favorable deals for the Kingdom of the Bjoulsae, and since the rebellion controlled the most viable trade routes between Malabal and Cyrod, it was in their best interest to consider opening negotiations with the rebels. Especially since Telepe could personally ensure an extremely beneficial relationship between the two parties, should the king choose to heed his advice.

Telepe set the reed down next to a bottle of ink and began rubbing the sore knuckles of his right hand as he gazed at the trio of scrolls laid out on the desk. He had awoken before dawn and commandeered Haromir's study so that he could draft some messages. He had now been working for well over an hour, judging by the position of the sun. The fire crackling in the hearth was burning low, though thankfully it was still enough to keep the room warm. With a deep sigh, he pushed himself up and wandered over to the fireplace, grabbing a poker as he did, and as he stoked the fire, he considered if there was anyone else that he needed to write to.

Aside from his king, he had also addressed one message to Perrif, explaining that they had managed to capture Sancre Tor and were now working to fortify it. Since they had already been paid, the Nord mercenaries graciously offered to remain until the end of their contract, three months from now, at which point they could decide whether to renew it. Two hundred Nedes living in Sancre Tor had also volunteered to join the Paravant's army, so the centurions that had accompanied Edanu now once again had full units to train and lead. He had finished the letter by informing her about one more message that he intended to write. Of course, the Paravant was illiterate and wouldn't be able to read it herself, but she still had her secretaries who could relay his message.

That third letter lay to the left of the message to his king. It was addressed to Vrage, High King of Skyrim, proposing an alliance between the Nordic Empire and the Paravant's rebellion. In the letter, he informed King Vrage about how the Paravant had organized the rebellion in Cyrod, and how she sought to overthrow the Ayleids that had oppressed his human cousins for so long. Telepe had also reminded him that the Ayleids were infamous for abducting almost anyone with human blood, including some of his own subjects, so the shared a common enemy. He then went on to mention the benefits of an alliance with Cyrod, not only militarily, but economically. Trade between Skyrim and Cyrod had always been sporadic at best, and Telepe was certain that both realms had much to offer each other by forging friendly relations. However, to do so, they required the Nords' aid in overthrowing Ayleid rule and establishing a new regime, which he hoped would cement their friendship for centuries to come.

The fire in the hearth blazed to life once again, just as Telepe was considering throwing another log into the dying flames. With a smile, he set down the poker and wandered back over to the desk to tie a small bit of twine around the scrolls to bind them shut. As he was cutting through the string with a small bronze knife, however, a knock came at the door, startling him.

"Come in," Telepe called out. The heavy oak door swung open, and Tari leaned her head into the room, smiling faintly at him. Telepe set down the knife and beckoned her inside.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully as she jumped across the cold wood floor to stand, barefoot, on the thick fur rug in the center of the room. "I was wondering if I would find you here. Inhaal passed me in the hallway and asked me to retrieve you. He feared that you had forgotten his offer."

"I have not," Telepe assured her as he finished tying the string around the second scroll. "I simply had some work I wished to finish before we departed. I have about fifty other tasks I must see to, and I wished to handle one of the easiest ones first. Besides, I didn't think he wished to depart until midmorning."

"He asked me to relay that he doesn't expect to arrive at the appointed location until midmorning," Tari clarified. "He claims that it's a bit of a journey, and that we should depart as soon as possible."

"Very well," Telepe sighed, gathering up the scrolls as he did. He took a moment to look her up and down, noting that she was wearing a heavy wool chiton and leggings under a heavy fur cloak, which was draped around her shoulders. When he eyed her bare feet, however, he added drily, "You don't truly believe it's wise to walk outside like that, do you?"

"No… but I wanted to avoid those uncomfortable wrappings for as long as possible," Tari murmured, glancing away from him. "I can barely walk in them."

Telepe smiled faintly to himself as he scooped up the scrolls and then motioned for Tari to follow him. With a curious frown on her face, the girl trailed him through the halls of the palace until they arrived outside the small bedroom that he had claimed for himself. He pushed open the door to the room, revealing its almost spartan accommodations – a single-person feather mattress long enough for him to stretch out on, a clothing chest, a desk with a chair, a small fireplace, and a fox-fur rug in the center of the wooden floor, as well as a simple tapestry decorating the wall beside the door. Telepe had insisted on taking the small room for himself and leaving Haromir's opulent bedroom for Edanu, as the centurion was the one who was officially ruling the kingdom in the Paravant's absence.

Telepe knelt down and reached under the bed, pulling out a pair of small, fur-lined leather boots. Tari blinked at him as he walked back to her and handed them to her, explaining, "I found these in a storage room while I was taking inventory of the palace. They were too small for me, and no one else elected to claim them, so I figured you might like them."

Tari narrowed her eyes at the boots suspiciously, but when Telepe pushed them into her hands, she sighed and reluctantly took a seat on the ground to pull them on. He was pleased to see that they covered her legs up to her calves, ensuring no skin was exposed to the cold weather. When she stood up again, she wandered around the room for a few minutes, then slowly looked up at him.

"These… these feel wonderful," she admitted. "I'd still prefer not to wear them at all, but I enjoy how warm and soft they are. And I'm not losing my balance!" She kicked the toe of them against the floor, then smiled up at him warmly. "Thank you."

"There's no need to thank me," Telepe grinned as he scooped up the scrolls again. "After all, we're likely to be here a while, and it's only going to grow colder, especially when the snow starts falling. I can, at the very least, try to make it a bit more comfortable for you."

"Well, I'm truly grateful," Tari said, reaching up to briefly squeeze his shoulders with her small fingers. "But we should depart now – we're already late, and Inhaal does not seem to be the patient sort."

"He's not," Telepe agreed. "I do wish to stop by the falcon coop, however. I still need to deliver these messages. Then we should make haste."

The pair spent the next ten minutes jogging through the halls of the palace, first to the rookery where the messenger falcons were kept. The falconer was surprised to see them so early, but when Telepe explained that he needed the messages delivered immediately, she took the scrolls without question and assured him that they would reach their destinations. Telepe and Tari quickly thanked her, then hurried back down through the palace and into the biting morning wind. Inhaal was standing at the foot of the palace steps, resting a long, thin, wooden box over his shoulder. As the pair approached, he scowled at them, his irritation plain on his face.

"When I requested your presence first thing in the morning, I did not expect you to stretch the meaning of 'first thing' to its limits," Inhaal snapped as they slowed to a stop in front of him, both panting and struggling to catch their breath.

"You shall come to expect nothing but disappointment with this elf," a familiar voice growled, setting Telepe's teeth on edge. Pelinal smirked as the emissary glared at him over Inhaal's shoulder as he stood next to Edanu.

"You extended an invitation to Whitestrake?" Telepe asked in a low, displeased tone.

"What I intend to show you concerns the defense of Sancre Tor," Inhaal explained bluntly. "Thus, I was instructed by Centurion Edanu to ask both you and Sir Whitestrake to accompany me." After a moment's consideration, he glanced at Tari, then added with a shrug, "Since you're here, would you like to join us? I've been told you're a student of magic, and while what I wish to show them is not truly magical in nature, I still believe you shall appreciate it. Perhaps it may even somehow aid in the study of magicka. You would know better than I."

Tari blinked in surprise, and then a slow grin spread across her lips. "I would love to," she agreed. After a moment's thought, however, she added, "Perhaps I should also inform my instructor-"

"I'd rather you didn't," Inhaal stated shortly. "We're late as it is. If you wish to accept my offer, please follow me. I shall not wait for anyone else."

With that, the Nord abruptly turned on his heel and strode purposefully towards the northern gates of the city. The others glanced at one another, then followed after him without another word. As they passed through the gates, Telepe frowned, noticing that Inhaal was leading them along a narrow northern path leading towards the looming Jerall Mountains.

"You haven't explained what you wish to show us," he pointed out. "I don't suppose that you're leading us to Skyrim, are you?"

"We aren't going quite that far," Inhaal replied shortly, shooting Telepe a derisive look, clearly considering his question foolish. "We shall, however, be ascending one of the mountains. The instrument I wish to show you is more effective at higher altitudes."

For the next hour, Inhaal led the small group up a steep, winding path carved into the side of one of the mountains. As they ascended, Telepe found himself quickly becoming short of breath. Not only was the climb strenuous, but the air was growing thinner the higher they traveled. Inhaal and Pelinal both seemed unaffected, but Tari was struggling to keep pace, and even Edanu seemed winded by the time they were halfway up the slope.

Shortly before they reached the peak, Inhaal suddenly broke into a light jog, hurrying towards a small, flat outcropping about fifty feet wide. He knelt down to clear away a few loose stones, and then set the wooden box down. After undoing a simple latch, he opened the box to reveal an interior cushioned with thick clumps of wool. Resting gently on the wool was a long, brass cylinder over four feet long. One end of the cylinder was thicker than the other, and as Inhaal lifted it out of its case, Telepe noticed that there seemed to be some sort of round crystal lodged into each end of the tube.

"This is an invention of the Dwemer that I found while I was exploring the cave where I studied their piping," Inhaal explained as he reached into the case again and withdrew a thin brass stand, ending in four splayed legs. He began settling the cylinder on the stand as he added, "One of the Dwemer had set this up long ago, and apparently did not come back for it."

"And you simply took it?" Telepe asked disdainfully.

"They did not appear to be using it any further. I went back to the cave every day for a month, yet it remained untouched," Inhaal shrugged. "I believe the cave where I made most of my discoveries had fallen out of use long ago."

"What is it?" Edanu asked, motioning to the cylinder.

"It is a device that allows one to view things from a great distance away," Inhaal explained, stepping away from it and motioning for Edanu to examine it. "Simply place your eye upon the smaller end and maneuver it to where you wish to view. I would suggest pointing it at Sancre Tor first, to get a sense of how far you can see."

Edanu did as he was told, and as he put his right eye to the device, he let out a startled gasp. He peered over the side of the cylinder, then through it once again, letting out a short laugh of disbelief. "Remarkable! I can clearly see the faces of people on the streets! Are you certain this isn't magic?!" he exclaimed.

"Quite certain. I've had Sariel examine it, and she assures me that this is simply a clever but mundane construct of the Dwemer," Inhaal replied as he folded his arms over his chest. "With this, you can see for leagues. If an Ayleid army were to approach Sancre Tor, this device would grant you a great deal of time to prepare for their arrival."

"Yet we must position this on a mountaintop far from the city itself," Telepe pointed out, running a hand over his chin. "Are you proposing that we permanently station a guard out here? And you also seemed to have this device disassembled when you brought it out here. Is that because it's delicate? Would they be required to make the trek out here each time they wished to use it, or do you wish to build a more permanent structure to protect it from the elements?"

"All excellent questions," Inhaal admitted, sounding impressed, as Edanu stepped away and motioned for Tari to take a turn peering through the cylinder. "I would defer to the leader of Sancre Tor about how best to utilize it. I am simply providing you with an additional tool which might aid in the defense of your city."

"It is remarkable, but as Telepe pointed out, it would be difficult to use reliably," Edanu murmured, running his hand over his chin. "We might create a post out here for the guards… though standing watch out here would be an unenviable task. And while this… device does see for miles, it has a rather limited view. The warrior peering through it would need to constantly gaze about for threats. I'm finding it difficult to believe that this cylinder is much of an improvement upon a rotation of scouts and lookouts."

"Of course. It is your decision," Inhaal shrugged indifferently. "I merely brought it to your attention as a suggestion."

"Incredible!" Tari exclaimed. The three men glanced towards her and noticed her pointing the cylinder up at the sky, focusing on the moon Masser, which was still faintly visible in the midmorning sky. "I've never seen the surface of Masser so clearly before! It's almost as though I could reach out and touch it from here!" She beamed as she pulled her eye away, an almost childlike glee on her face. "I wonder if we could study the stars themselves with this?"

"The Dwemer are said to have larger instruments like this for that very purpose, actually," Inhaal informed her. Tari's eyes lit up even brighter at that prospect as Telepe wandered over to the cylinder. Tari gently stepped away as Telepe peered through the lens, letting out a soft gasp at what he saw. As Tari had said, the bloodred, pitted surface of the moon loomed in his vision, far clearer than he had ever seen it before. It almost felt as though he could walk upon its surface if he traveled for a mere day or so.

"Fascinating!" Telepe breathed, turning the cylinder away from the sky and focusing it on the surface of Nirn once more. "How far can it see?"

"From here? If you're trying to get a lay of Cyrod, it shall be difficult with the sun as high in the sky as it is now," Inhaal admitted. "You can see far more at night. However, right now you should still be able to see about as far as Sercen, I believe. If you wish to fix your gaze on a distant object, that tiny cylinder on the side shall help you focus upon it."

Telepe nodded and slowly began sweeping the lens across the horizon, trying to spot the distant city. After a few long moments of searching, he spotted a white, marble city in the distance. He turned the knob as Inhaal had instructed, though to his confusion, the city quickly became increasingly blurry. Hastily, he spun it the other way, and the outline of the city became clearer. Then he noticed something that caused a deep frown to crease his face.

"What is that?" he murmured, turning the dial a little more. Rising from the center of Sercen was a thick ray of shimmering, rainbow-colored light, extending into the sky at a sharp angle. He pulled his head away from the telescope to peer around the side, though of course when he did, he could no longer see the city at all. Quickly gazing through the cylinder again, he muttered under his breath, "That almost looks like the light we saw above the Temple of the Ancestors."

"What? Move," Pelinal ordered bluntly, almost shoving Telepe out of the way. Telepe stumbled away from the cylinder, anger momentarily flaring up inside of him until he took a slow breath and calmed himself. Pelinal, meanwhile, lowered his head to peer through the cylinder. When he raised it again, his bright blue eyes widened, and he hissed, "Harlot!"

"Do you know what that is?" Telepe asked as Pelinal began stalking away from the cylinder. Tari and Edanu traded curious looks, and the latter stepped forward to gaze through the lens himself, to better understand what they were talking about.

"I do not," Pelinal growled, starting to trudge down the steps of the city. "But I shall investigate it myself." He paused mid-stride, then turned back to them and added, "I expect to return in a few days. You can manage until then, yes?"

"A few days?" Telepe echoed skeptically. "You're riding to Sercen, yes? Even on horseback, that should require at least a week-"

"As I stated, I shall return in a few days," Pelinal repeated shortly. He looked past Telepe to Edanu, who had stepped away from the cylinder as well. "Until then, I would recommend you train the men, but maintain the peace. Do not antagonize the neighboring settlements." He sneered at Telepe, adding, "Though with that coward advising you, avoiding conflict should not be difficult."

"I appreciate your confidence in my abilities," Telepe retorted drily. Pelinal shot him a warning glare, then turned back around and resumed climbing down the mountain path, the others staring after him in silence.

"Well… I suppose until he returns, we should heed his advice," Edanu commented, turning to Telepe.

"He has nothing to fear. I didn't expect us to escalate the war any further until we received a response from the Paravant anyways," Telepe shrugged.

"Agreed. In the meantime… I suppose I shall continue to train our new warriors, as Pelinal suggested," Edanu said. He tilted his head at Telepe, adding, "And you?"

"Rest assured, I have plenty to keep me busy until he returns," Telepe replied. "And speaking of, I had something I wished to discuss with you…."

Telepe was not surprised by the cold looks they received from the Ayleids seated around the table. He and Edanu had summoned six of the wealthiest Ayleid landowners from the largest plantations around Sancre Tor to discuss with them the regime change in the kingdom, and what they expected their relationship to be going forward. All six now glared at them with such unbridled hostility that Telepe almost wanted to shy away from where he stood behind Edanu, who was seated at the head of the table.

"You expect us to bow to your rule simply because you gained possession of a fortress city we barely recognized in the first place?" a particularly acerbic old Ayleid man hissed, his gaze shifting between the centurion and the emissary.

"We wish for you to cooperate with us for our mutual benefit," Telepe replied calmly, folding his hands behind his back. "According to the late king's records, you six provided Sancre Tor with a portion of your harvest in exchange for protection, did you not? We simply wish to ensure that relationship continues."

"He claimed he would protect us. He never truly fulfilled that obligation," a middle-aged woman snapped.

"If anything, his claim of 'protection' amounted to him sending his mercenaries to our lands to demand part of our harvest and threatening to harm us if we didn't comply, while leaving us to defend our lands from beasts and bandits," another man scoffed.

"Bandits that are still plaguing our farms, if my light harvest is anything to measure that by," a third male muttered under his breath.

"In any case, why should we heed your rule?" the acerbic Ayleid – Darenor, if Telepe recalled – demanded. "At least King Haromir was one of our own. You're rebel slaves. Bandits. Thieves. Unlawful usurpers. You would see us all slaughtered if you did not require our lands. The way that barbarian in silver armor murdered Haromir made that quite clear."

Telepe kept his lips closed tightly to hide the fact that he was clenching his teeth. He knew Pelinal's brutal slaying of Haromir would make forging friendly relations that much more difficult. "Some of our number have reason to hate Ayleids, yes," he conceded reluctantly. "However, we intend to enforce our promise of protection, regardless of who violates your lands."

"Indeed?" Darenor scoffed. "And how do you intend to do so?"

"Tell me," Edanu piped up, folding his hands and leaning forward. "Did Haromir ever codify his claim of protection? Did he ever explain how he would address crimes, or what punishments he would mete out?"

The Ayleids glanced at each other. "He did not. We were under the assumption that he would act as a judge… if he ever cared to address our complaints," one of the women answered.

Telepe glanced to his left and motioned for one of the palace workers to open a chest that was resting in the corner of the room. The boy did as he was asked and hauled over several clay tablets, which he and Telepe began setting out on the table. The Ayleids frowned and stood to get a better look at the slates as Edanu sat back in his chair.

"These are the first laws that Telepe and I have drafted," Edanu explained, while Telepe smiled faintly to himself. "We have written them out so that none can say that we are acting arbitrarily. There shall be no ambiguity between us. No favoritism. All – man and mer alike – shall be bound by these laws, from the lowest field worker to the ruler of Sancre Tor itself."

Most of the elves leaned in to peruse the laws, their eyes narrowing at some of the lines Telepe had written. "Slavery is hereby abolished?!" one of the men cried. His head snapped up, glaring furiously at Telepe. "Do you expect us to work our farms by ourselves?!"

"Your slaves are now to be considered free and equal under the law. That does not mean that they shall no longer work for you," Telepe stated calmly. "In fact, I expect that most of your former slaves would prefer to remain on your farms, as it is what they know and have grown accustomed to. The only major differences are that they are no longer subjected to the whims of their employers and may now enjoy equal protections and rights under these new laws. If you wish to continue to offer them a place on your farms as fieldhands, I am sure many shall eagerly accept that offer."

"And if they choose to depart?" another woman demanded.

"Then they are free to do so," Telepe said. The Ayleids traded disgruntled glances, and a couple began whispering furiously to each other in hushed voices. "However, it's still in their best interest to continue working for you, and I believe most shall recognize this. If you fear that your farms shall fail due to these laws, then allow me to allay your fears. My homeland operates under a similar structure to the one we intend to implement, and it is a wealthy, prosperous land. Mer also remain the undisputed rulers of the land, even without slaves. Rest assured that we also have no intention of confiscating your lands and redistributing them, if that is another concern you have. Your farms are your own."

"Yet they may leave and begin a farm of their own if they wish?" one of the men asked slowly.

"If they wish, though they must inform you, and us, of their intentions. They shall also be subject to the hardships and struggles of founding and maintaining an independent farm, and they shall be expected to pay taxes as well, in exchange for Sancre Tor's protection," Telepe explained. "Furthermore, it's not as though we're simply taking your harvest to feed the city alone. Portions of it will be set aside in our granaries, so that if a period of hardship comes, we can distribute it freely – including to you. And rest assured, Sancre Tor is far more secure than a simple cellar or barn, so you have our assurance that you are, in truth, losing nothing."

"Your assurance," Darenor scoffed. "You expect us to take comfort in the assurance of a militant band of brigands that slew a king for his throne and now comes to us demanding tribute?!"

"No," Edanu said coldly, pinning the man with a glare. "We expect you to abide by these edicts so that we needn't enforce them."

"Peace, Centurion," Telepe said soothingly, struggling not to smile. Edanu was perfectly playing the part of the stern leader, which was an excellent foil to his more measured, reasonable tone. "As Centurion Edanu said, however, our intentions now lie before you. You have our word that we shall enforce our laws, but enforce them fairly."

"Hmph," Darenor grunted. "Your word means nothing, mongrel." He smirked at Telepe's pointed ears, then added, "We'll not be cowed by these clay threats, nor shall we willingly part with even one grain of wheat. If you wish to claim our harvests, be prepared to take them with bronze and blood. Now, enough of this farce. I shall be taking my leave."

The Ayleid rose from his seat and turned, sweeping out of the room. The other Ayleids glanced at each other and swiftly followed, leaving Edanu and Telepe standing alone in the room.

"Well… that could have gone better," Edanu remarked.

"On the contrary, I think it could have gone far worse," Telepe remarked airily as he walked over to gather up the clay tablets still resting on the table. "In truth, I feared they would be unwilling to hear us out at all."

"Even so, they're not showing us any respect," Edanu pointed out with a frown. "Even the most rebellious of our warriors would not dare speak out like this."

Telepe glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head. "That's because we're not addressing members of our army. Slaves are trained from birth to follow commands, and even the most independent instinctively obey on some level, if only reflexively and for the sake of survival. Furthermore, our warriors wish to fight with us, so they're more willing to accept the authority of our officers. These elves have been born and raised as freemen, and are at best ambivalent towards us. Hostile at worst. No, they don't respect us because we have yet to earn their respect."

"Then I presume you have a plan for doing so?" Edanu asked, folding his hands behind himself.

"Of course. We simply do as we stated – we shall enforce the laws we've written, and offer their farms protection when required," Telepe shrugged.

"And you believe winning their trust shall be that simple?" Edanu asked skeptically.

"No," Telepe admitted with a wry smile. "But it shall be a start. Now we simply need to wait for an opportunity to present itself."

"…Perhaps it already has," Edanu said thoughtfully. When Telepe tilted his head slightly, a smile spread across Edanu's lips. "One of them mentioned bandits, did they not?"

"…at which point, I heard a loud crack, and rushed outside," explained a young Ayleid farmer named Vanilor, who was standing beside an older, haggard-looking Ayleid wearing an annoyed scowl. "And that's when I saw Berinel's pig eating my barley."

"Do you have any witnesses who can confirm this story?" Telepe asked evenly as he stood in front of the throne of Sancre Tor, a papyrus scroll in one hand and a reed pen in the other. Off to the side, Edanu watched him closely, his arms folded over his chest.

"My wife witnessed the incident as well," Vanilor replied. "As did my children, and my neighbor, Canath."

"Very well," Telepe said, making a note on the scroll. "And how much barley did the pig eat before you could remove it from your field?"

"About a bushel or so," Vanilor answered.

"You cannot prove that!" Berinel snapped.

Telepe wearily looked up from the scroll as Vanilor snarled, "I can, and you can come inspect the field if you wish to verify it! I'll also summon my neighbor if I must! What's more, this is the third time your pig has broken into my farm! Would you simply keep your pig out of my barley?!"

"It is your duty to keep your barley out of my pig!" Berinel retorted.

Telepe wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or scream, though he did neither, instead clearing his throat to return the attention of the two mer to him. "Vanilor, you claim that this has happened before?"

"Yes, though King Haromir never addressed it," Vanilor replied. He then added bitterly, "Even though our farms are just outside his walls, his only care was that we paid our taxes."

"I see. Berinel, what steps have you taken to prevent this from happening?" Telepe asked.

"My pigs are free-roaming! They must be, in order to grow fat enough to slaughter or sell!" Berinel protested.

"And have they grown fat enough this season? If you sold them now, would you collect a profit?" Telepe asked.

"I believe so," Berinel said smugly. "It's a testament to how effectively I've raised them."

"Then you should have no difficulty compensating Vanilor," Telepe replied simply. "You are to repay him one sack of barley and assist him in fixing his fence. You have one week to comply. If you do not, you shall be fined a greater portion of your harvest, and if there are future incidents, you shall be penalized for failing to properly tend to your livestock."

Vanilor's eyes lit up with delight, while Berinel's mouth fell open in indignation. "That's unfair!" he cried. "You've taken his side-!"

"I'd like to take a moment to reread my notes before the next case," Telepe announced over Berinel's protests, nodding to two of the guards, who immediately stepped forward to escort the two Ayleids out of the palace throne room. Vanilor gave Telepe a nod of thanks and strode quickly out of the room, while the two guards half-dragged Berinel out after him, ranting about the injustice of Telepe's ruling, until finally the heavy double doors slammed shut behind them. A mixed crowd of humans and Ayleids watched as the guards marched back up to stand on either side of the throne beside Telepe, whispering to each other as he unfurled the scroll to his next case.

Telepe exhaled slowly and ran a hand over his eyes, trying to rub some of his fatigue away. He had been passing judgements since early in the morning, and it was now almost noon. His head was spinning, and his stomach let out a low growl, reminding him that he'd only eaten a few dates and a bit of bread before he'd begun the day's trials. He was nearing exhaustion.

Off to the side, he saw Edanu continuing to stare at him, watching his judgements closely. Originally, when he had proposed to Edanu that they take a day to address the grievances of some of the people of Sancre Tor, he had meant that Edanu should handle the cases as the de facto ruler of the kingdom. However, Edanu had insisted that he had little understanding of court protocol, and that Telepe's own experience far outstripped his own. Telepe had tried to argue that many of these cases could be solved simply by referring to his laws and drawing conclusions based on common sense and a sense of fairness – as Edanu had already done when meting out the occasional punishment to his warriors – but Edanu pressed Telepe, beseeching him to at least handle the first few cases so that he could get a sense of how to hold a court. Reluctantly, Telepe had finally agreed, though he insisted that Edanu preside over the next court session.

As he looked up from his scroll again, Telepe noticed the guards escorting in two of the Ayleid landowners that he and Edanu had met with a few days ago, one of whom he recognized as Darenor. Another guard dragged in a skittish-looking human male clad in ragged furs and bound by thick bronze manacles. Telepe resisted the urge to smile to himself, instead motioning for the guards to bring the next plaintiff before him.

Edanu's warriors guided two people to stand several feet from Telepe, on opposite sides of the long rug leading up to the throne. One was an irritated-looking Ayleid man, dressed in a rich blue chiton, while the other was a shivering, middle-aged Nedic woman, who clutched her wool cloak tightly around her shoulders as she peeked anxiously up at Telepe.

Telepe took a moment to look over the notes on his scroll, and then he glanced up. "Your name is Icana, yes?" he asked, addressing the cringing Nedic woman. She flinched at his voice, but then nodded quickly. "You claim that this mer, Falimer, slew your husband on the streets of Sancre Tor, correct?"

"Y-yes," the woman stammered, barely able to look Telepe in the eye. He was hardly surprised – this was the first time that humans had been encouraged to speak up when Ayleids committed injustices against their former slaves. He had overheard whispers among the men in the crowd. They were suspicious of him and feared that he was using these trials as a means to ferret out troublesome citizens, to lock them away before they became a nuisance. Icana's need must have been great indeed if she was willing to bring this case to court despite the rumors, he mused.

Telepe nodded and turned to the haughty Ayleid. "Do you deny these charges?" he asked simply to the Ayleid.

"Why should I?" Falimer scoff. "I've committed no crime. I killed a slave that dared cross my path on the street, rather than allowing me to pass before continuing on his way. Any Ayleid would have done the same."

Telepe kept his expression neutral as he lowered the scroll and replied, "Perhaps that would be the case if you did indeed kill a slave. However, slavery has been abolished in the city and its surrounding lands. Thus, you confess to the murder of a citizen of the Kingdom of Sancre Tor."

"A citizen?" Falimer repeated with an incredulous sneer. "Humans are not citizens, no matter what you wish to delude yourself into thinking. Unless you'll next claim that we cannot slaughter sheep and chickens for their meat either? Are they citizens too?"

A couple of titters rose from one or two of the Ayleids watching the proceedings, though most looked unamused. Even if the man had been a slave, his master would expect compensation for the loss of his property, so even to the Ayleids, Falimer's logic was weak at best. Telepe was amazed that the elf seemed to think he would not be expected to atone for his crime in some way.

Telepe turned back to Icana, closing his scroll and marking his place with his thumb. "Do you own any land, Icana?" he asked calmly.

"N-no," she replied, shaking her head quickly. "I work as a servant for another household. They… they claim that as I am no longer their slave, they do not need to feed me or my children," she added, looking down.

Telepe nodded grimly – that was another Ayleid argument that was becoming increasingly common, much to his chagrin. "We shall address that case at another time. Did your husband provide for you?"

"And our children, yes. He – and my three eldest, aged eleven to fifteen years of age – worked in the fields, and his… employer paid him with rations of food. Without him…." She trailed off, tears welling up in her eyes.

Telepe turned back to Falimer, adding, "You, however, own a great deal of land just outside Sancre Tor, correct? Over three hundred acres, I believe?"

"I do," Falimer nodded smugly. "Is that it? Are you requesting a bribe?"

Telepe glared at the elf for several long moments, until his smug smirk began to falter. When Telepe raised his scroll again, he said, "According to our laws, you must pay severe restitution for the murder of a citizen of Sancre Tor. This was also the case under King Haromir, if you recall," he added pointedly, making it clear that there was precedent for his ruling. "Thus, to support Icana and her family, you shall repay her by surrendering fifty acres of your land to her."

Falimer's smile faded completely, replaced with a look of shock and outrage. "Fifty acres?!" he cried. Beside him, Icana's own eyes widened in disbelief. "For killing a slave?!"

"A citizen," Telepe repeated coolly. "Icana has four children, and she has stated that three are already old enough to tend a farm. Thus, ten acres of land per person, to sustain them in the absence of the father of their household."

"You cannot steal my land from me!" Falimer barked.

"Do you refuse to pay?" Telepe asked, his tone turning from cool to outright cold. "There is another form of restitution, if you prefer."

"Which is?!" Falimer snarled.

"One of the core tenets of our laws is equal recompense," Telepe said darkly. "And if you cannot or will not pay for your crime with land, then you shall repay his life… with your own."

Falimer's mouth snapped shut, but his blue eyes continued to burn with fury. Telepe could also hear whispers from the Ayleids in the crowd, and even a few of the humans watching seemed uncomfortable. "You cannot do this!" Falimer hissed.

"You have three days to make your decision," Telepe continued calmly. "Until then, you shall reside in the dungeons. Guards!" he added, nodding to two of the warriors. Falimer's eyes widened as their fingers closed around his upper arms and they began dragging him away.

"I owe you nothing! I do not answer to you! You are not the rulers of this kingdom!" Falimer shrieked. Telepe watched the men drag him away impassively before turning back to his scroll. He tried not to smile to himself when he looked up again and fixed his gaze on the Ayleid landowner.

"Melendril," he announced, motioning for the Ayleid to step forth. The elf's frown deepened as the guards motioned for him to stand in front of Telepe, while they dragged the chained human forward to the other side of the carpet. "You have been suffering repeated raids on your farm for the past several days, have you not?"

"I have," Melendril confirmed suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. "Though I don't see what concern it is of yours."

"A few days ago, our scouts were patrolling near your farm, and one of them happened to notice this man in your orchard," he said, nodding to the chained prisoner. "He was trying hard not to be seen, and when they asked if he was a worker on your farm, he claimed that he was not, and that his presence there was no business of theirs." Telepe turned to the man, adding, "Please state your name and affiliation with Melendril."

The man hesitated, brushing his fingers furtively through his dirty, tangled brown hair, his eyes flickering back and forth between the human guards. "M-my name is Ralo. At least, that's what the other slaves called me," he stammered. "And… will I be in trouble if I explain what I was doing?" he added, grimacing up at Telepe.

"Simply explain," Telepe said firmly.

Ralo swallowed hard, then quickly stammered out, "I'm from Sancre Tor. I am a former slave, of course, but when we were freed, my former master refused to employ me any longer, claiming that he would tend to his property, but he would not provide charity. Thus, I was forced to forage for myself on the streets of the city, living off the scraps of others." He took a deep, shuddering breath, then continued, "I knew that there were farms nearby that had plenty of food, so I began slipping onto them to take a little extra food for myself. Nothing more than an apple here, a bit of bread there…!"

"How long did this go on?" Telepe asked.

"I… don't know?" Ralo admitted hesitantly. "A few days, perhaps?"

"And did you know that stealing is a crime under our current laws?" Telepe asked. "And that our laws extend to the lands surrounding the city?"

"W-well…." Ralo hesitated, glancing around nervously. "I… suppose I shouldn't have taken the food, b-but I had no alternative-!"

Telepe nodded once, then turned to Melendril. "How much food would you claim that he stole from you?" he asked.

Melendril had been listening to Ralo's account with an irritated look, but at Telepe's question, he started, seeming surprised that Telepe was asking his opinion as well. "In truth… perhaps about a bushel of fruit?" he said hesitantly. "I cannot be certain, but more than 'an occasional apple.'"

Telepe bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. Since there was no way to verify the truth of either man's claim, he decided to compromise. "Very well. Ralo, you have confessed to the theft of the property of a citizen of Sancre Tor," he said, rolling up the scroll. "Therefore, you must repay your debt to the one you stole from. Can you provide Melendril equal compensation for the food you took?" When Ralo stared at him quizzically, he elaborated, "Can you repay him a bushel of apples or wheat?"

Ralo's eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly. "I own nothing, save for these rags!" he insisted.

"I see," Telepe stated, unsurprised by his answer. "Then you shall repay your debt with labor. I sentence you to work on Melendril's farm for one season. As you toil, you shall regrow the food you stole. Once per day, you shall be given a ration of gruel, provided by Sancre Tor," he added, glancing at Melendril. "You may accept more, should your employer choose to provide it." He then turned fully to Melendril and added, "You may keep him in chains when he is not laboring in your fields to ensure that he does not attempt to escape from the farm, and you may beat him if – and only if – he does not work. However, he must not suffer any serious injury – broken bones, mutilation, torture, or death – while under your care, or you shall be penalized for your crime. Do you both understand?"

Ralo's eyes widened with terror, and he began backing away from Telepe. "You… you would condemn me to slavery once more?!" he cried.

"No," Telepe stated firmly, turning his scroll over in his hands as he turned to Ralo. "Quite the opposite, in fact. This is repayment of property that you, a free citizen, unlawfully took. Also, this is not a permanent state of servitude. As I stated, after one season, you shall be freed from your debt." His tone softened, and he added, "After that year ends, if you still find yourself unemployed, return to the palace and speak with us. We can find you work on another farm, or in the gold mines."

Ralo opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it and nodded meekly. Telepe then turned to Melendril, adding, "Do you have any questions?"

"Shall I be required to house him?" Melendril asked curtly.

"He shall remain in the dungeons of Sancre Tor when he is not laboring on your farm," Telepe replied simply. "A guard shall escort him to your farm each morning and retrieve him each evening. As I stated, simply ensure that he does not escape during the day, and that he does not suffer major injury, and after one season his debt to you shall be repaid."

Melendril gazed at Telepe for several long moments, then let out a slow sigh as he turned to leave. "I would prefer that he suffer a harsher punishment, but I'll not turn away free labor. Very well. Bring him to my farm tomorrow and I shall set him to work."

Telepe struggled not to smile at the Ayleid's haughty response. He also noticed the Darenor hovering near the back of the crowd, staring at him thoughtfully, before turning and walking silently out of the throne room. Telepe watched him curiously, but decided not to dwell on it further as he turned back to his scroll. "Next, the dispute between Algare and Avanu," Telepe announced as the guards led Ralo away. He frowned to himself as he realized how much papyrus was still bunched up at the bottom of the scroll, and he took a moment to unfurl it. To his dismay, he realized that he still had thirteen more cases to adjudicate before he was finished. Letting out a soft sigh, he turned to scowl over his shoulder at Edanu, who gazed at him curiously, apparently unaware of Telepe's simmering ire. Shaking his head, he turned back to the two men that had been brought before him, who were already shouting at each other about their brawl in the mines.

"So, if the victim has been assaulted, the punishment for the assaulter should be equal in measure to what the victim suffered," Telepe explained, running his finger over the clay tablet laying on the dining room table before Edanu, who was stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Put more simply, if the victim has lost a tooth, the criminal shall lose a tooth. It makes sense, does it not?"

"It's… logical, but that's only the simplest case. That's what's confusing me. How do we decide what a fair punishment is?" Edanu asked uncertainly. "Today, you did not always seem to provide equal recompense. For instance, a man was slain, yet the Ayleid who slew him was only required to give up a portion of his land?"

"Only because he had more to offer the family by paying restitution than by taking his life," Telepe explained, folding his arms over his chest. "Had I slain Falimer as well, that still would not have solved the crisis facing the family; had I slain him and taken his land, the punishment would not be equal to the crime. I confess that it was a bit unfair to the widow and her family if she desired vengeance. However, her husband's death ensured that she and her family shall now live in far more comfort on their new land than they might have expected had he not been slain. While I'm certain the pain of her loss lingers, she and her family shall not suffer for it. And if that Ayleid dares slay another man, now that he knows the law and his offense has been documented, his next punishment shall be far more dire," Telepe explained grimly.

Edanu sighed, rubbing his temples. "I am afraid that I still do not fully grasp how you consider that to be fair to the victim. If you claim a tooth should be taken for a tooth, then surely the Ayleid should have been slain."

"Perhaps it isn't fair," Telepe conceded. "In truth, even I'm unsure if the punishment matched the crime, and the argument can certainly be made that I should have been harsher. Falimer's lifestyle is not being seriously disrupted – he can certainly live comfortably on over two hundred acres of land – and Icana's family is still without a father. However, one must take care that the judgements they pass are done in the name of justice, not vengeance. Tell me… if their situations were reversed, if a rich man had slain an Ayleid, would you be so quick to advocate for the man to immediately be slain in retribution, rather than presenting him with an option to provide restitution?"

Edanu opened his mouth, then closed it and grimaced. "I see your point," he admitted with a sigh. "I simply wonder if this system favors the rich and powerful, if the wealthy can simply pay for their crimes with material possessions, rather than suffering the way the weak would. For instance, the case with Ralo… had he been wealthy enough to simply repay what he had stolen-"

"He would not have been brought before us in the first place," Telepe said shortly. "Again, yes, it is unfair. But we cannot allow crimes to go unpunished simply because some suffer for their actions more than others. Would it be fair to Melendril to allow hordes of thieves to pick his fields clean, simply because they're also hungry?"

"I suppose not," Edanu admitted. He let out a groan, sitting back in his chair. "This is so complicated. I would rather lead our warriors in battle. That at least is straightforward."

"Truly? I find girding oneself for a battle far more difficult than debating the philosophical merits of a judgement," Telepe replied. "Still, the Paravant appointed you the leader of this century, not I. She would not have essentially named you the temporary ruler of Sancre Tor if she did not believe you possessed the qualities necessary to oversee the city – and all of its functions – in her absence."

"Hm. I appreciate your confidence in me, at least," Edanu stated modestly, inclining his head. He took a deep breath, then ran his hand over the next line. "Very well. Then this bit about how one can repay a debt if they have no grain-"

"Pardon me?" a voice called out. The two men looked up to see a warrior standing in the doorway, her spear lowered and a hesitant look on her face. "A visitor wishes to speak with you, Centurion. I informed him that you were busy, but he insisted that you would wish to see him. He claimed that his name was Darenor?"

Telepe and Edanu traded surprised looks, and then Edanu nodded to the guard. "Very well. Please see him in."

The woman inclined her head and stepped out of the room. There was a murmur of voices, and then a moment later, Darenor strode into the room, carrying a full burlap sack. As Edanu and Telepe watched with bemused expressions, he set the sack on the table with a soft grunt.

"There," Darenor announced. Edanu and Telepe stared at him blankly, clearly confused.

"How… might we help you, Darenor?" Edanu asked slowly.

Darenor scowled at their reaction, then laid his hand on the sack he had set on the table. "You intend to collect taxes from our farms, yes? This is my first payment. I've also spoken with the other plantation owners, and while two are still refusing due to your abolition of slavery, the rest of us have agreed to provide a portion of our harvests. You shall receive them in the coming days."

Edanu's eyes widened as a delighted grin spread across his face, and Telepe felt his heart starting to hammer with elation. "Excellent!" Edanu exclaimed.

"Forgive me for asking, but… if I may?" Telepe piped up hesitantly. Darenor shrugged, and he continued, "You claimed that you would never pay us taxes. Has something changed?"

Darenor scowled at the question, and for a moment, Telepe wondered if the Ayleid was about to rescind his offer. However, the mer then replied gruffly, "You claimed that you would provide our farms with protection in exchange for a portion of our harvests. Now, I am not one for empty words, but you also acted upon your declaration. Not only did your warriors capture a thief that was raiding our lands, you also punished him for his actions, despite the fact that he is a fellow human. While we do believe that his sentence was too lenient, the fact that you were willing to look beyond your kinship with him and instead judge him based upon his actions speaks volumes for your integrity and dedication to justice. The same could also be said of how you adjudicated the case between Falimer and that human woman. We might have expected you to execute him outright, yet you provided him with a means to repay his crime without resorting to spilling blood." Darenor hesitated, then added, "In truth, we would have expected a harsher sentence from even Haromir. While your lenience may prove troublesome in time – indeed, I would even caution you against being too gentle, human – you have nevertheless shown a commitment to fairness and a willingness to compromise, which we are unused to. And if you are genuinely willing to look after our interests, it is only fair that we support your regime, so long as it remains just."

Edanu gave Telepe a tight smile as Telepe flushed from the unexpected praise, and then he turned to Darenor and nodded. "We are pleased, then, and we shall strive to continue promoting favorable relations between our people."

"You'd best," Darenor said curtly. "Our goodwill shall only last as long as your commitment does."

With that, the Ayleid abruptly turned and strode quickly out of the room, leaving Edanu and Telepe staring at the sack he had left behind. Edanu rose and pulled it open, revealing that it was filled to the brim with wheat.

"Well… it seems that we shall have full granaries to weather the winter at this rate," he commented, closing the bag once more.

"I hope so. If Sancre Tor were besieged, I'd be far more concerned about starvation than an assault on its walls," Telepe said grimly.

"Come now. At this rate, you'll even have the Ayleid farmers fighting for us," Edanu chuckled.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Telepe grinned. "Whitestrake has yet to return, after all. Let's see how friendly our relations with the Ayleids remain once he's returned to the city."

The two shared a brief, uneasy laugh, and then an awkward silence fell over them. Telepe coughed, then walked back over to the tablets. "Right… you were asking about debts. So, even if one does not possess any property, they must still repay what they borrowed…."