They walked three abreast through the city proper, Camdyn Caskbrew between them. His wrists were shackled in front, but his legs were free. There wasn’t much need for more restraint; if anyone tried to escape, the Godknight would easily catch up to them. And that was something nobody wanted.

He wouldn’t kill anyone, of course. The Godknight had an oath never to take a life. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of hurting someone. And he could hurt someone really, really badly.

Yet, in most respects, the Godknight was merciful. There was no one in the world with enough power to threaten him, a fact he was well aware of and never abused.

Safehaven was bustling with activity, as always. Citizens of the city went about their daily lives. Tourists craned their necks at the elaborate architecture and impressive buildings. Horse-drawn carriages and buggies stuck to the center of the flat stone roads, passing by vendors hawking their wares. The smell of fresh bread from a nearby bakery wafted through the air, hitting Jaina like an old memory. A crowd gathered around a pig roasting on a spit over an open fire pit, making her stomach rumble.

Everyone stepped aside for Jaina and Stegran, leaving an open path straight to the center of the city and Godknight Tower. There were looks and there were stares, mostly directed at Camdyn. But few made any judgments. Few sneered or mocked. Mostly, they looked sad, sympathetic.

Dangerous, violent crimes were exceedingly rare in Brightholme. The people brought to Adjudication had crossed a line, but that line was often the result of nothing more than a lapse of judgment. Or that one, big mistake you don’t quite realize you’re making until it’s made.

Realizing this, many of the citizens looking on sometimes felt as though they were walking on eggshells, left to wonder: What if it’s me who makes the next big mistake?

Jaina’s nerves were high. This was her tenth time bringing someone before the Godknight for Adjudication. The first few times, she had merely observed as a senior Solicitor led the proceedings. The last two times she was allowed to take the lead, albeit with careful supervision. This would be her first time flying solo.

Her nervousness surprised her. Jaina may have been small in stature, but her confidence, her sense of certainty, were giant sized. But dealing with the Godknight was an entirely different matter.

He would greet you with his wide, welcoming smile, making you feel safe and welcome. His kind eyes and gentle demeanor might put you at ease.

Yet, he could also be intimidating, an imposing figure of ultimate authority. At times, he embodied all these characteristics simultaneously.

Jaina had spoken to him on the previous two cases and had managed well. But she’d had her hand held by the senior Solicitor accompanying her. Ultimately, she hadn’t needed them and had done just fine on her own. But they had been there.

She took a moment, glancing past Camdyn and focusing on her fiancé. He was a big man by most standards… though even he paled in comparison to the Godknight. Strong, confident. Good. He carried himself with a self-assuredness mirroring her own. The confidence of one whose path is clear. Clear, and righteous.

And she couldn’t lie. Seeing him in his Peacekeeper uniform just made him that much more attractive. It carried with it a certain amount of power and authority, two things Jaina had a little bit of a soft spot for.

The Peacekeepers were the closest thing Brightholme had to a military or watchmen. They carried small pipes that could “shoot out” folded-up nets, nets designed to restrain anyone that needed restraining. They carried no other weapons. No one in Brightholme did. They simply weren’t permitted. Nor were they needed, with the Godknight safeguarding them all.

The Peacekeepers were led by its founder, Icabod Deepshield, an Aeonic who had resided in Brightholme since its earliest days. Stegran had once told Jaina that Icabod was a legendary fighter of some renown before the Brightholme days and would occasionally regale his officers with tales of his glory. Jaina didn’t know about that. She’d only witnessed a handful of fights in her life, mostly in grade school, broken up by teachers or fellow students. It was hard to even imagine what a “legendary fighter” would look like.

Stegran being the sole exception.

She hadn’t seen him fight. But she knew he could. Knew that he rarely used his net, as his strength alone was enough to subdue most people. A firm grip on the shoulder, a bear hug. Once or twice, he’d told her, he’d even tackled someone fleeing from a robbery.

“Couldn’t you have used the net?” she’d asked him. He’d only smiled and shrugged. Sometimes you just needed to spread your wings a little.

She loved him. She smiled at the thought, the feeling. At only twenty-two years old—and a mere human—Jaina practically had her entire life mapped out before her. The proposal she’d received last night only solidified that path.

They reached the City Center and Godknight Tower. For the first time since departing the Solicitor’s Office, Camdyn started to show signs of restlessness. He shuffled his feet. His eyes darted nervously. His lips moved, but he made no sound.

Jaina thought he might be about to bolt. It would be a foolish thing to do, but perhaps understandable. Camdyn had had plenty of time to himself to think and imagine what coming face to face with the Godknight would be like. Now those imaginings were on the verge of becoming reality.

Stegran gripped the man by the arm. He held him firm. In response, Camdyn grimaced in pain, squirming slightly in his hold. The somewhat larger Peacekeeper leaned in and whispered something into his ear. Jaina couldn’t catch the words, but she could discern the reaction in Camdyn’s body language. Gradually, some of the tension seemed to dissipate from the man, his head and shoulders drooping.

Jaina saw only the back of Camdyn’s head as he turned to look Stegran in the eye. Stegran returned the look with a single crisp, stern nod. Camdyn nodded back.

She hadn’t heard what her soon-to-be husband had said to the man. But his intent was clear. He could have threatened Camdyn, warned him of the consequences of attempting to flee. Instead, he had used only words, words that had successfully calmed the man down.

He was a better person than she was, she thought.

And that was okay.

Stegran caught her looking at him and shot a quick wink. Her heart fluttered again, for the briefest moment. Then she let it pass, allowing herself nothing but a cordial smile.

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She redirected her attention to Godknight Tower. It was a cloudless day; she could see the large round structure at the top distinctly. What lay inside was a mystery to her, and likely to most, if not all, of the people of Brightholme.

What was the home of someone like the Godknight like? Did he have a library? A study? A bedroom? What might his bed look like? Did he even have a bed? Did he even need sleep at all?

She didn’t know the answers to these questions, thought maybe no one did. And ultimately, none of it mattered. She was curious, sure. But she didn’t have to know. It was enough to trust that the Godknight had things under control.

They waited at the base of the Tower, the customary spot for Adjudication. There was no attendant; the Godknight had no assistant, no staff of any kind. When it was time to Adjudicate, he just… knew. Knew, and arrived promptly.

On rare occasions, they’d find him away, dealing with a natural disaster or perhaps a rescue situation. Saving a drowning child. Finding a traveler lost in the woods. Stopping a bear or mountain lion attack seconds before it happened. But in those cases, word usually got back to the Solicitor’s Office, and they’d return later.

Today… Nothing. Meaning he should be in the tower. Should know they were present and ready.

As usual, a crowd had gathered around to witness the Adjudication. It was a generally joyless affair, but some felt an obligation to their fellow citizen to bear witness. There might have been a few among them who looked down on the accused, or even derived a perverse pleasure from watching their downfall. However, such individuals were rare in Brightholme, and didn’t tend to stay around for long.

Jaina glanced at Stegran. He returned her gaze, frowning and unsure.

Seconds stretched into minutes. No Godknight. The crowd began murmuring. Camdyn grew increasingly nervous at the delay, if that were even possible.

People started turning their attention towards Jaina, including Camdyn. Even Stegran. Because she was in charge, wasn’t she? Shouldn’t she know what to do?

But she didn’t. To the best of her knowledge, things like this simply didn’t happen. By all accounts, the Godknight had not left his Tower today. Why wasn’t he coming?

Jaina felt her face redden. She didn’t know what to do. She hated not knowing what to do. It symbolized weakness to her, a lack of preparation. She was increasingly conscious of the looks and the expectations, and found herself growing angry at the Godknight.

A murmur rippled slowly through the crowd. Whew, she thought. He’s coming.

But she lifted her gaze and saw nothing but open sky. The Godknight should have been descending from the tower. Instead, the crowd seemed to be parting, allowing someone to pass through.

The figure finally reached the trio. It was not the Godknight, but a man nearly as recognizable. He was garbed in a long robe of purple and blue hues, and carried himself as a man of considerable import. His white hair, flawlessly combed, and his white beard, impeccably groomed, suggested his age. He was an Aeonic, a long-lived human. For his hair to have whitened meant he had likely lived a thousand years. Or more.

This was Rodum Centes, the High Elder. Although Jaina had never had a conversation with him, they’d been in the same room on multiple occasions. Jaina’s parents weren’t Elders- they were human, after all- but they traveled in similar circles. They were friends with Rodum, something Jaina knew was a rarity. Whether they would ever concede it or not, the Elders held themselves above the rest of Brightholme’s populace. They were the oldest Aeonics, present from the beginning, at the founding of Brightholme. Each of them had either been personally recruited or granted early residency by the Godknight.

Despite the fact that Aeonics and humans were considered equals, and that the Elders were supposed to be fair to all, they didn’t really associate much with humans. Jaina had always felt that made her parents somehow special. Humans, friends to the Elders.

Which kind of made her special. Right?

“Jaina,” Rodum greeted warmly, spreading his arms wide. “So good to see you. How are your mother and father?”

Jaina could feel every pair of eyes, each look, each stare from the crowd.

“Uh… good. Fine. They’re fine, sir.”

“Gooood. Gooood.”

“Sir?” she began. “What’s—”

Rodum spread his arms apart once more, this time rotating in a slow circle so everyone could hear. “I’m afraid there won’t be an Adjudication today. The Godknight is, regrettably, occupied at the moment.”

More murmurs arose from the crowd. Some disappointed, some perplexed. They began to disperse, returning to whatever they had been doing previously.

Jaina glanced at Stegran, who appeared just as baffled as she was. Camdyn, for whom all of this was supposed to be for, didn’t seem pleased with the postponement of his potential banishment. It meant more time to worry and stew, not knowing what the future held for himself or his children.

Rodum turned back to the trio, focusing on Jaina. He spoke softer, no longer addressing the crowd.

“We’ll need to reschedule,” he said.

“Re… reschedule?” Jaina stuttered. Reschedule? Had such a thing ever happened before? On the occasions when the Godknight had been taken away on important rescuing or some such, they simply waited for him to return. This rescheduling thing struck her as… troubling.

“Yes,” Rodum affirmed with the same warm smile. Yet beneath it, Jaina thought she detected something else. Subtle hints, such as the way the lines on his forehead crinkled downward ever so slightly. The way his smile didn’t quite extend fully. “We’ll have to inform Nai when. But I suspect it will take a few days.”

“A few days?” It was Camdyn who spoke up, his tone incredulous. Rodum glanced at him briefly, a flash of something resembling disgust swiftly masked by his smile. “Just how many more days do I have to wait to find out if I get to see my kids again?”

Camdyn was visibly agitated, and, Jaina thought, with good reason. Still, what choice did she have here? They were all essentially at the whim of the Godknight. If he was unavailable for a few days… what could she possibly do about it?

“I understand,” she said. Camdyn began to object, but Stegran took hold of his upper arm once again. Camdyn grunted, but said no more. “We’re at your disposal, of course.”

“Splendid!” Rodum exclaimed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

And just like that, he turned and sauntered away, heading towards Elder Hall.

Both Camdyn and Stegran remained silent. Jaina gazed up at them. Stegran merely shrugged, unable to hide his confusion and concern.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Caskbrew,” she said to Camdyn, trying to maintain a formal and professional demeanor. “This… this wasn’t my doing.” He looked down at her and what she saw hurt her heart a little. He seemed so lost. As helpless and vulnerable as a child.

“It’s not your fault, Miss Whisperwind.”

It wasn’t, of course. But she found no comfort in that fact.

She gave a nod to Stegran, who gently guided Camdyn back in the direction from which they’d come. Despite the relatively short distance, it would be a long walk back.

Maybe it was no big deal, she thought. Of course the Godknight is busy. He’s got an entire country to look after.

Still, she felt sure he was in that tower. Which meant, for some reason, he refused to leave. That he was unwilling to come down and follow through on his duty and responsibility. To the people of Brightholme, and to Camdyn.

To her.

Maybe it was nothing. But Jaina didn’t think so. There was a pit in her stomach. A feeling, an omen, perhaps, that something just wasn’t right. Not with the Godknight. Not with the world.

Or was she overreacting? Probably, she thought. After all, little had changed in Brightholme in its existence, other than progress and growth. Why would anything be changing now?