Another man, head hung low, placed a rose on top of the grave, which was now flooded in the red flowers. Okin stood with those who had already placed their offerings, his bright white robe contrasting with the dark colours worn by the rest of the gathering.

It was a decent day in Metheno, quite grey but clear and of amicable temperature, and while the ceremony brought back tragic memories of tenuous times, the air didn’t feel as grim as it should have.

Okin didn’t really know how to feel— the people were all dressed in black, the women with the customary veils, and only the sounds of footsteps could be heard, but it was mostly soft smiles during his obituary, and he didn’t see any watering eyes.

Despite the chaos and sense of dread that this death had brought all those years ago, the people seemed rather at peace with the man’s death, and Metheno was more vibrant and tranquil than even before the incident, which was quite surprising for Okin.

As Okin stood there, in mindless thought, his focus was shaken by a distant clamour. Instinctively, he turned his head to where the noise was coming from— and saw a small troop of guards on horseback aiming their muskets at a man dressed in foreign clothing. The upward-curving brim of his hat made Okin believe the man was from Apathasaw, as he had seen these hats worn by some Apathasawian traders, but he still wasn’t certain.

Okin twisted his way through the crowd, failing at his attempts to be unnoticed. Some of the crowd had turned towards the shouting, but most just stood still, staring at the face of the grave.

Okin drew closer to the scene. The strange-looking man raised his arm towards the circle of guards, and a small object glistened in his hands, it was unrecognizable at the distance. Possibly a small chisel, or shovel? It looked too shiny to be a tool like that though, even if it was brand new.

The foreigner was tackled by another man, dressed in a white but stained linen shirt. The guards got off their horses, intently aiming at the wrestling men as the shiny object tumbled down the hill.

One of the guards ran down the hill, fetching the silvery object, while the others surrounded the two men. Okin’s skin popped and he flinched as he felt something touch his shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just me,” Gendro said, patting Okin on the back. “This looks like dangerous business,” the bald man pointed his thick chin towards the commotion.

“It looks like they’ve got it under control. I’m just curious what a foreigner would be doing out here that would call for six armed city guards,” Okin replied as he continued his march towards the scene, followed closely by Gendro.

It became clear that the guards had subdued the two men, their arms tied behind their backs with rope. It looked like the larger one in the strange attire was scolding the other man, but was forced to turn his head by one of the guards. As Okin drew closer to the group, the man’s voice grew louder. Now he could clearly hear what was being said, or more accurately, shouted.

“I was so close, but now I’m never gonna get to see him again. Why do you always have to get in the fucking way?” The man in the hat shouted, before being nudged by one of the guards, his face turning towards Okin.

See who again? Who would he be coming here to see? A fallen relative?

Then Okin saw his face. It was very different, but the look in his eyes, the build of his companion, the fact that he was arrested when coming to the cemetery—

It was Billy.

“Billy? Billy, what are you guys doing?" wide-eyed, Billy did two shoulder checks, and then spun around in a circle, unable to see his caller. The other two boys, a petite, thin boy with long jet black hair, and an equally short, light blonde boy stood still with their hands raised like statues. Billy heard the snapping of twigs coming from behind him, and then turned around, and could see some movement from behind the layers of thin, dark trees.

Stretching his neck to get a better view, Billy could now see a white linen shirt which stood out behind the trees, a few dozen feet away.

“Who is it?" the little boy with blonde hair reached up to tap Billy on his shoulder behind him.

“It’s Okin," Billy replied.

Ducking underneath the branch of a tree which was blocking his way, the figure in the white shirt made himself clear. He was taller and older-looking then the other boys, by a few years, and looked as though he was a little less rough-and-tumble.

“Billy," the teenager said, and his face crumpled seeing the two younger boys hiding behind him. “What are you guys doing out here alone?”

Standing on his tiptoes, the blonde boy replied, “We’re having a battle.”

The older boy’s mouth hung open in shock.

“No, not a real battle, Okin, we’re just playing around," Billy interjected.

“What do you mean?” Okin asked. Leaning into Billy’s ear, he whispered,

“They’re younger, and not like you. I don’t want them to get hurt, and I don’t want you to be blamed if they do.”

The little blonde boy interrupted again, “We’re doing the Final Battle! Almighty versus Tregale!”

Okin’s sharp, grey eyes turned to the little boy. “You shouldn’t be playing as the Gods. The sacrifice they made for us wasn’t a game," he said.

“This isn’t a game, it’s a reenactment!” the blonde boy replied.

“It is a game, and you guys shouldn’t be out here all alone in the forest playing it," Okin said.

“Since you’re so bossy and whiny, you’d be perfect as Intillia," Billy said. The two younger boys giggled, and Okin glared at Billy.

“If I was similar to any of them— it would be Olitheon," Okin replied.

“Perfect, you can be Olitheon, so now it’s fair!” the blonde boy exclaimed. “I’m Aredal, Billy is Nexon, you can be Olitheon, and Damian is the Dark Lord Tregale!”

Okin sighed. “Ugh, fine.” A soft smile came across his face. “I’ll play.”

The two younger boys cheered and Billy smiled.

“I’ll blast you with a sunbeam!” the blonde boy shouted, holding out his hands in the air towards little Damian.

“Not if I can reflect it!” Okin replied, as he jumped in front of the ‘blast’, holding out his hands as if he were shielding it.

The four boys all laughed as they fought the intense battle.

He came to see him. After ten years, he thought it’d be safe.

There was the same look of recognition in Billy’s eyes, and it was confirmed by the drop of his jaw. Thoughts and memories flooded Okin’s mind; he had blocked himself from pondering Billy’s fate for his own sanity, and it had been successful almost to the point that he had forgotten about him.

Okin marched closer to the group as the soldiers remounted themselves. Doing his best to ignore Billy, Okin addressed the soldiers, Gendro at his side.

“Is there a problem here? We heard the commotion from the cemetery.”

The guard, noticing the Ather, straightened his back and dusted off his shoulder plate. His shocked expression morphed into a proud smile. “Ah, Ather, you’d be happy to know that these men we apprehended are actually the murderers of Lionel Gruissem. I’m not sure of the extent of your knowledge on the history of Metheno, but that event shook the population and left the city in social and political turmoil for years.”

“I grew up here, sir,” Okin smiled softly. “And I had actually just finished the Half Decadem ceremony of Lionel Gruissem, and yes, his death was an unmatched tragedy.”

The guard’s face flushed, and it was clear his squadmates held back childish grins. Billy squirmed, inspecting Okin, but quickly returned to docility as the guards’ attention was drawn away from their leader.

“Anyway,” the squad leader spoke up, “Then you would be even more delighted to know we are taking them for a public execution in the town square, which is long overdue.” The guard’s cheeks paled again and his prideful beam returned.

Execution? Without a trial? Okin looked to Billy, unsure of whether his concern showed on his face. The man’s neck was craned and his back was hunched, but his eyes burned and his teeth grounded. Okin looked to the other man, thin and tame, almost to a point of looking depressed. It had to be Damian. The night Billy disappeared, Damian was never seen again, and the two were always close.

Sure, Okin knew they were probably guilty. They had clear motives, and the murder was sloppy, like it was planned by two children. Perhaps it was the fact that they grew up together, but Okin didn’t want to see Billy hanged. At least not without a fair trial.

Okin’s eyes widened as he realized that his God had already answered his prayers. The night before he travelled to Metheno, he had hoped for an opportunity to show his Dedication to Aredal’s Justice and Bravery. Not even a week later, it had been granted to him in the most unlikely form.

“That is against the doctrine of Moden Versalism, and contradictory to our laws on Justice,” Okin said. “I thought you would know better to take this route of action in front of a High Ather.”

Okin cringed inside, his mind leading to the first place it always would: doctrine. Values 3:12 reads, Do not be arrogant, or present your class, name, or rank as an argument, for this is the argument of the man who is wrong. He shook his thoughts. The Gods valued humility, but they also valued Justice—which is why they made their Sacrifice. Perhaps Okin would have to bend one value to uphold another.

The guard’s face reddened again, and this time, the other soldiers stayed silent, their eyes gluing to anything beside the Ather’s. “I-I apologize, High Ather. We will take them to the High Court in Caldoor, where a trial will be held.”

Sweat grew from Okin’s scalp. If they do go to Caldoor, and that is still a big if— I’ll never be able to see the trial, and won’t have the opportunity to uphold Justice and show my Bravery. Okin knew it wasn’t his duty to see the trial— in fact, a crime of this nature was supposed to be brought to a High Court— but seeing Billy after all these years had reignited his curiosity. He had to understand why Billy did it— or if he really even did. And he had to use this opportunity to prove his Dedication.

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“No. As you said, this issue is important to the people of Metheno,” Okin replied. “You will take them to the local church, and the trial will happen there, open for the people to see.”

The guard nodded obediently. Okin held in a sigh of relief— it technically wasn’t in his jurisdiction to command these guards, but travelling a mile to the local church was much less strenuous then babysitting two miscreants all the way to Caldoor, and an appeal to a man’s sloth is often a strong appeal.

The guards turned their horses to face the main road, and through the pivoting legs was another figure— short and stout. The horses cleared their way for another familiar face— his father.

He smiled, and Okin knew it was a symbol of his pride. The Ather rushed in, hugging him.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Okin knew the answer— he had come down to attend the Half Decadem ceremony.

“These two murderers came into my house yesterday, like some kind of sick stunt, thinking I wouldn’t recognize them," Okin’s father shouted, pointing towards the tied up men. Arm around his back, Okin pulled his father away from the crowd.

“But how did you?” Okin whispered. “Even I didn’t really recognize him— I only knew it was him because of what he said and how he was arrested coming to the cemetery, on the Half Decadem of all days.”

Okin’s father didn’t bother to match his son’s quiet volume. “I saw that watch— only Lionel had a watch like that. It was one of the most expensive possessions that went missing, because that dirty thief loved money more than his own father.”

At that remark, Billy lunged forward, his teeth gnarling, as he screamed in a bestial voice. “Fuck you, old man!”

Billy, the wild dog, was soon pulled back by his new owners-—the guards, by a virtual leash— the muskets. Okin stepped back in between his father and Billy, Gendro once again at his side.

Okin commanded the guards once again. “You will go with Rothar Gendro here to the church. I need to finish this ceremony, and then I will take my father back to his home. You will tell the local Athers of the situation, and I will return to make sure you do.”

The guards nodded with the same passive obedience. Gendro sighed, rolling his eyes. Okin’s short time with the young Rothar had made him realize that Gendro wasn’t exactly the shining example of how Rothars are supposed to serve their Athers; he often had an attitude, and a bad one at that. Okin walked back towards the main ceremony as the guards went back down the main road with Billy, Damian, and Gendro in tow.

Okin’s father looked down to the cemetery, where the people were still gathered. “I’m a bit late, but I think it’s about time I paid my respects to old Lio.”

The people gave Okin some strange looks as the Ather made his way back towards the grave. It was not customary for a religious official to leave a ceremony before the mass of the people had left, and even stranger for him to bring a new guest-—who was not dressed for the occasion.

Nonetheless, some of the attendees smiled as the stout, old man approached. Okin’s father smiled back.

“I apologize for leaving before the ceremony was concluded,” Okin said to the gathering. “This man deserves more respect then that.” The people just stood in acceptance, and Okin turned back to the gravestone, putting his hands together in prayer. But from within the crowd, someone spoke up.

“Why did you leave the ceremony?” It was a high-pitched, feminine voice.

Okin turned to the crowd, looking for who asked the question, but he couldn’t identify who it was.

“I went to see the commotion that many of you saw,” he replied.

The people once again stood in acceptance, focusing back to the grave. It had been settled, and Okin did the same.

But again, the same voice rose.

“But what was the commotion?”

Okin turned to where he heard the voice coming from. But the crowd was too close, and the headdresses and non-descript black tunics and coats made it impossible to identify the heckler. Okin didn’t want to answer the question, but of course, honesty was the way of the men who followed the Gods.

“The town guards had arrested two men, who had come from the main road," Okin replied.

This response now sparked unrest from the gathering. This time, the heckler didn’t need to push. The others did it for her.

“But why did they arrest these men?” A man with a thin, elderly face asked. “What were they doing out here?”

Okin bit his lip. Now this was a question he definitely didn’t want to answer, as he wasn’t sure the people were ready for the truth-especially considering they were the very people who had come to honour this man on his Half Decadem.

But Okin knew that telling the truth, as always, was the right choice. Aredal 1:24: Being honest when it suits you is easy, it is being honest when it doesn’t that is honourable.

Still, he hesitated, drawing his breath. “The two men were arrested- and took to trial at The Church of Revictus— as it is believed that they were responsible for the murder of Lionel Gruissem.”

There was audible shock. Gasps escaped the mouths of the gathering, as men turned to their wives, spouting their instinctual opinions about the murderers.

“How fitting. The Gods deliver us justice at the Half Decadem ceremony," an older man with round glasses and an even rounder belly said.

“A man who has done something so evil as killing his father cannot escape the Aredal’s Justice— no matter how far he runs," a younger man with dark hair added.

Okin’s eyes crossed as the gathering continued to spew their judgement on the dissidents. Only his father still paid attention to the Ather, tapping him on the shoulder to break his trance.

“Let’s go," Okin’s father spoke, his words quickly being covered by the incessant chatter. “The ceremony is over.”

Okin followed his father out of the ceremony, the gathering had not broken up, and the chatter among families had now become a loud, unmoderated discussion. Lionel’s grave was now just another set piece.

Okin turned back to look at the people, it was uncustomary for an Ather to be the first to leave a ceremony. Well, today was quite an uncustomary day.

After they had gotten far enough away so that the cemetery was out of view, Okin turned to his father.

“I thought you wanted some time to pay respects to Lionel.”

“Eh, I can do that tomorrow. It’s not the date that matters, it’s the reverence given to the memory," the old man replied. “And that, well, it wasn’t exactly reverent.”

Okin smiled; his father wasn’t a member of the Versalist Ordain, but he adhered to their values better than much of the order.

“I am most surprised that the kid Damian is still with that bastard. Who follows a man who murdered his own father? Unless maybe that’s someone else," Okin’s dad said.

“No, it definitely is Damian, he’s the right age and has the right features," Okin replied. “To be honest, I think he just has nowhere else to go.”

Okin’s father nodded lazily, his eyes drifting off into the distant east. After a few moments, he said, “You know what Okin, I don’t want to take any more of your time, I know how busy an Ather can be. Why don’t we just both head down to the trial?”

“Dad, it’s alright. I may never be able to come back to Metheno, and I should have sent a letter so we could’ve at least had a meal together," Okin replied.

“All the more reason for me to go with you to the trial at least,” the old man replied, smiling.

The two men continued down the main road.

The six horses struggled for space, two to each hitchpost was rather cramped. One soldier stood outside, half-heartedly watching the horses.

Good, at least they followed my instructions.

Okin smiled as he admired the church building. It was not extravagant or noteworthy; a tall, symmetrical building made of stone bricks, with one tower rising above the rest of the structure. But this church filled Okin with nostalgia, and he was pleased that it hadn’t been remodelled or renovated.

“I hope you still remember this place,” Okin’s father said.

“Of course I do,” Okin replied with a sly smile. “I did end up becoming an Ather, if you didn’t realize.” Okin’s father chuckled.

The inside, much like the exterior, was simple but pleasant; The arched roof was held up by round stone pillars, which stood symmetrically on each side of the church, as did a row of rectangular windows. The floor was made up of large black and white tiles, exempt the area around the altar, which was dark blue carpet.

The altar itself was a rectangular table covered by a white silk tablecloth. High up behind it was a large window, although it was not transparent— the stained glass depicted the God Revictus, God of Travel and Protector of Nomads.

Staring into the shining blue eyes of the artwork, Okin remembered the childlike awe he had of his hometown church. The people believed that the Forces birthed Revictus here in the heart of Metheno, although it definitely wasn’t called Metheno at the time, the explorer Metheno wouldn’t be born for hundreds of years. Still, it mattered little to little Okin, they should’ve called the town Revictus then.

Okin smiled as the memories flooded back to him. His younger self, despite intending nothing but respect, didn’t see that his proposition would be sacrilegious.

Now is not time for childhood memories, Okin thought. If I slip back into the past, it may come back to bite me. Okin looked around for Billy, but he was nowhere to be seen. He did spot two guards, who were gathered near the front of the church.

“Stay here, father,” Okin commanded, marching his way down the row of pews. His father did as instructed.

Two guards were conversing with a younger man dressed in an-all white robe, a lower Ather. Noticing him, the guards turned away from the conversation, and soon they all vied for Okin’s command.

Okin ignored them, addressing the young Ather. “I am sorry for the abrupt intrusion. I am High Ather Okin, and I hope to make this trial smooth, yet fair,” Okin reached out his hand from over the pew.

The Ather, a thin-faced man with short, light hair reached forward to shake. “My name is Ather Lissom. It is alright, I have been briefed by these soldiers on the gravity and urgency of the situation. I was just a boy when the tragedy occurred, but I still remember the effects of it deep into my teenage years,” the Ather replied.

Okin nodded. “How many other Athers serve at this church?”

“Just High Ather Minos and I,” Lissom replied.

Okin gave a sharp exhale. He knew it was unlikely there would be more then three Athers as it wasn’t a major Cathedral, but two was just not enough. A Moden Versalist High Court usually had at least five ordains who were High Athers are above.

But Okin had already pulled the switch on this decision, and rerouting the case to Caldoor would just place him under more scrutiny. But two was out of the question- if the Athers disagreed it would be a stalemate, and one was definitely too narrow of an opinion to get any sort of an objective measure. There was only one other option- it was against the rules of Versalist justice, but then again, no one who lived in Metheno was truly impartial to this case.

“Okay. You, High Ather Minos and I will be the judges for this trial. Where might he be right now?”

“He’s in the quarters, praying. I can go get him right now,” the young Ather replied.

“Yes, thank you Ather Lissom. And if there are any (sisters), please ask them to get me the text on High Court Proceedings,” Okin replied, and the young Ather bowed before leaving the conversation. “And where might the defendants and Rothar Gendro be?” Okin asked, turning to the guards.

“Gendro wanted to keep them out of the church until the trial began. That bastard sure does have a wild temper,” the taller guard replied.

“We’re in the house of The Gods,” Okin said. “Try to be a little more reverent.”

“Sorry, Ather,” the guard replied.

High Ather.

“Go tell Gendro that the trial is ready to begin,” Okin commanded. The soldiers gave an affirmative nod, and then marched down the aisle.

Okin watched the guards pull open the large church doors, and was surprised to see they had already gotten here. The people poured through, they hadn’t had the chance to change out of their black clothing. Almost everyone from the Decadem ceremony was there, more or less.

Well, at least one part of this trial is orthodox. Moden Versalist courts were often open to the public, as the ordain believed that ‘only the likes of Tregale and Deionis hide in the shadows.’

Conveniently, the two local Athers also made their way out from the Ather’s quarters just as the people started to fill the pews. High Ather Minos was a tall man with a fuzzy dark gray moustache which was matched by identical bushy eyebrows. He nodded respectfully to Okin. The makeshift trial would proceed without any roadblocks.

The church had ample room, so the attendees spread themselves apart, most sitting near the front but leaving space in the pews, only couples and friends sat in groups. Something caught Okin’s eyes a few rows back; there was a petite lady had not taken off her black veil. Normally any type of headdress inside a church would be seen as quite disrespectful, and the Half Decadem ceremony was long over, so what reason did she have to keep it on? He examined the lady closer, the viel blurred her features slightly, but it was still see-through.

As he focused his eyes, he could see that the women had ivory skin and slanted eyes: indicative of a Beisanian native.

A Beisanian woman who knew Lionel well enough to attend his Decadem? That’s unexpected, but it did explain her ignorance of the customs.

Okin shook his head. He didn’t have time to ponder the possibilities of Lionel’s former relationships. He had to focus on the here and now: the trial.

Minos and Lissom lined up behind the altar, and Okin followed suit. Three wooden chairs had been placed down behind the altar for this unexpected event.

Staring directly down the aisle, Okin watched as the double church doors swung open, and for the first time he could look at his old friends without scrutiny, and all the eyes in the room did the same. Billy had been stripped of his hat and his jacket, and his eyes burned, firing towards the three judges.

And the trial began.