Role

Chapter 7

Ilya stared blankly through the trees, in the direction of the setting sun. Perched on a fallen tree trunk, she swatted absently at a passing mosquito - not aiming, acting out of reflex, without intent to kill.

What a day, a day of many conflicts, and it had all been going so well - immediately before, yesterday, the week just past. It still took her breath away, the memory of that bolt of light which had come out of nowhere...

It had struck her square in her bosom, painless, painful - she could not remember which. Only that in that instant, knowledge had poured into her, like water bursting from a dam. In its aftermath, new power, new strength - sweet Temperance.

And then just yesterday, she had stood witness to Karvesh inducting a young dwarf, a shaman - he had got to him early, got to him young. Yet another welcome addition to our cause, a new brother magistrate to arrest our dwindling numbers.

But today? How quickly the weather changes, how swiftly the tide turns. It was dark out already, not a safe spot out in the woods for a lone magistrate, not so close to the Prosimy - but she was lost in recollecting.

First the sight of Wilice, dear sweet Wilice, bearing a fugitive's mark - wanted by the Laws. She could not bring herself to speak with him then, but she steeled her heart to do the needful if he crossed her path...

Not long after, as she paced agitated in her quarters - that scroll upon her desk, its seal intact. Moments later, her vision blurred from tears - Karvesh, he had felled some arial she had never met, much less heard of - a Kiaw?

He had erred and they knew it, he knew it - with trembling hand she put quill to parchment and spoke out. A letter acknowledging the wrong, and the blood price required to cleanse it - how her heart ached. She felt his pain, she understood.

The lies, the deceit, the hypocrisy. The Laws and lawkeepers manipulated - honest folks whose confessions were answered with death. And yet, and yet: this was the price they had to pay, this was their cross to bear...

Every servant of the Light, the Provost and herself included, who knowingly chooses to dedicate herself to a life of service, of upholding the Laws. Trust in the Laws, have Faith in the Laws, we must, we must... She mumbled to herself.

Even before she had a chance to conclude her letter though, a cry for help - from the Chieftain Fugmada. A vile and reprehensible creature, but she strove daily to look past, into that spark of good which she knows must exist in every soul.

For what was the alternative, what was the Maran way? Genocide? Of whole peoples - men, women and children of dark-elf, duergar, goblin, orc, fire and frost giant blood. No, that cannot be the answer: the Laws, they are our only hope.