The trial chamber was surprisingly well lit. A dozen crystals in the ceiling providing a bright and startlingly austere clarity to the room. It was a surprising break from the Necropolis’ thus far unshakeable commitment to aesthetic, but then again justice was always best done in the light.
Natalya had never been up on the dais before, a small circle of ancient wood, just big enough for the three of them to stand, which they were escorted to without any further preamble, ascending the small flight of stairs with ease.
The rows of chairs where she would normally have been seated were worryingly full. People were apparently taking this seriously, which wasn’t a good sign. On the other hand she could see an unusual cluster of paladins in full armour on one side. That was odd. There was only one order of the Necropolis that allowed their enemy dual membership and that was the Slayers of Death.
The hair on the back of her neck began to prickle at that realisation. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time the Slayers had even had a member attend a trial, let alone the entire senior leadership.
As a group they were oddly one of the most martial and simultaneously most peaceful. They trained constantly on how to fight, whether by spell or blade, but seldom ever left the Necropolis unless it was on their absurd quest.
Like a number of the orders that had risen and fallen through necromancy’s long history, the Slayers of Death were obsessed with ending mortality once and for all. Though where others had focused on pushing the limits of necromancy or healing magic, the Slayers had elected for a more direct approach.
Which was to seek out and kill Death herself. Given no one even knew if such a being even existed, thus far they’d had no luck. What they were doing at the trial was anyone’s guess.
Natalya let her gaze sweep across the rest of those gathered, seeking other patterns and oddities. There isn’t much, or at least much she thinks will directly sway the vote. Most of the people there are undead, and most of the undead are liches – widely regarded as the pinnacle of self-applied necromancy.
There were a couple of ghouls, including old Vortigan Vee, the undead swordsmaster and teacher that would, providing Alec survived the trial, take great pleasure in making his life a misery. Which was at least another vote in their corner.
Then there was Berilith the Chanter, the banshee was also a teacher at the Necropolis, but one far less inclined to take risks, and worse her magical voice gave her far more influence than Nat was comfortable with. If she spoke up then the necromancer would have to interject rapidly.
And of course there were the living. Oddly the older the necromancer looked likely the younger they were. Power and knowledge did not always go hand in hand. Neither did power and trust.
She risked a glance over her shoulder at Alec and Holly. The two quite frankly looked terrified. Likely for entirely different reasons. As an inherently magical creature Holly was probably sensing the kind of magical strength from the gathered creatures that would compare favourably to Charigris, the insane wildfire elemental they’d helped kill. For Alec it was likely a far deeper, instinctual concern, human beings had always felt a frisson of fear at the sight of a skull, and right now he was staring at hundreds.
Heartless as it was, she was glad they were terrified. It made them seem less like a threat and would pull at the heartstrings of even creatures who’s hearts had rotted away decades, if not centuries, ago.
That was going to be the crux of her argument when the trial started, an open and unapologetic appeal to emotion, with a side order of ‘what would Erebus think?’.
The trial took a fair while to come to order, not a surprise really. Everyone here, or at least everyone not forced to stand up, was an equal and had an equal voice, and so the hubbub their mere entrance had caused took a while to die down enough that whoever had been appointed to read the charges/explain things thought it was worth raising their voice for.
“We are gathered to discuss the matter of Alec, son of Arthur, and Holly, daughter of Von Mori, chosen apprentices of Erebus the Grey Walker.” The last part falling from the speaker’s lips as if it were the vilest invective known to humankind.
Natalya managed to hold back her wince. The gathered ranks of necromancers were supposedly all equals, and thus held equal voice, in theory. To this end the trial had no regularly appointed judge, and as no records were kept, no clerk either to read the charges. Instead they’d opted to simply assign someone the job at random and Natalya could not think of a worse possible candidate than Archmage Merida.
If the Necropolis had a first amongst equals it was Merida. The elf was one of the very few mortals that could treat many of the liches like juniors, children even, and the withered old hag was thoroughly heartless, born of an older mould of necromancer long left behind and left behind gladly.
A relic of a time when they had been every inch the monsters the Holy Paladin Order had been created to destroy.
Even all of that wouldn’t have been an issue, such creatures craved power like a drug, but Merida was the Necropolis’ only archmage, and had been for aeons. Any other contenders for the title, mages yet to flower, had been killed as a bud. Nothing blatant, just lots of accidents, the occasional honour duel, or in one case the poor soul in question being sacrificed to a demon lord.
Everyone knew. Noone could prove a thing.
Then along came Erebus, who had survived his tuition in the Necropolis by the simple expedient of being unexceptional. By the time anyone was seriously taking him as a contender for a genuine master of magics he’d already quit the Council of Mages and was doing his lone vigilante routine.
The only reason he’d even been allowed to keep his necromancer credentials was that it provided a very thin and weak restraint upon his actions. That and a threatened revolt by the Sable Shields, who had threatened to split from the Necropolis if they’d been mad enough to go through with it.
And now the rogue necromancer had taken the last step on that ladder. There were two possible ways to become an archmage, the simplest, and surprisingly least common, was the one Merida had taken. To be an acknowledged master of at least ten magical arts.
Necromancers had something of an advantage there, truth be told. As the old joke went, the main difference between necromancy and healing was timing.
The other, in theory more difficult and in practice more likely, method was to ‘exhibit magic beyond the ken of mere mages’.
So now there was a necromancer archmage out in the Hells that Merida couldn’t do a damn thing about. That kind of power and a feeling of impotence was never a good combination, Natalya could easily see her using her role to tilt the trial against the two kids just to make a point.
“The two have been cruelly befouled with darkest necromancy friends, dark rites these hallowed halls had hoped forgotten to time. Their souls fused in a gruesome experiment and thus doomed to a slow and agonizing death…” Merida explained, voice croaking a little as she had to fight back tears.
Natalya almost got whiplash as she turned to stare at the elven mage, of all the angles she’d expected Merida to pursue that wasn’t one of them. Hells above and below, she almost sounded genuine.
It was the worst possible attack imaginable. She had been expecting the ancient archmage to talk about the dangers of the knowledge in the children’s heads, the potential for them to turn out just like their missing mentor. But the minds that would be turned by such words were likely already predecided. A plea for mercy on the other hand…
“It is my considered opinion that the charges against them, nay not even charges in truth but mere unfortunate circumstance, unsought and unasked, are irrelevant. What matters is mercy. Some of you weak-willed fools will be disinclined to kill them. You have not seen what I have seen. You will proclaim it cruelty. Cruelty would be allowing them to live. To watch as they fight for control over their joint soul and slowly rip themselves apart.”
Even Holly and Alec had gone pale at that proclamation. Natalya almost tried to console them, to assure them it was an empty lie, but the words just wouldn’t come. For a moment she pondered if she’d been bespelled but it really was just words, each one a lead weight on the ear, made heavy by Merida’s grief.
“We are not mayflies Merida.” One of the liches, a Gardener that Nat didn’t recognise, rasped, “Your role is to state the charges. Not to give your opinion upon them. State the charges.”
The look Merida shot the undead necromancer would have received a standing ovation from Medusa herself.
“Thank you for correcting me Gardener Madrigal.” The elven woman growled, “The charges are that of possession of forbidden knowledge. The children have born witness to acts of temporal magic most foul, have seen events of bardic make as well as annihilation magics. They have also seen several restricted arts at work, such as cloning, combat teleportation and bane magics. They are also privy to some secrets I cannot speak even here.”
“Additionally,” Merida continued, “We have received a request for extradition from the Holy Paladin Order, citing them as suspects in the slaughter of the innocent peoples of Reath and the murder of the great dryad Von Mori. However given both of these charges are laughable I am inclined to put it to a vote now and move on. All in favour of putting it to a vote, please signal.”
If there was a mage present who didn’t summon some form of magelight, Natalya couldn’t see them.
“And all those in favour of refusing to extradite, please signal.”
Even the paladin members of the Slayers of Death raised their hands or held weapons aloft. Normally Natalya would have been shocked at the Necropolis playing so fast and loose with justice, but the charges really were as ludicrous as Archmage Merida had said, if anything the venerable elf was understating things.
It would have been less accurate to describe Von Mori as the next best thing to a god than to describe a god as the next best thing to Von Mori. The idea of a teenager unable to even sense mana killing her was almost as laughable as one of her own dryads turning against her.
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“Motion carried.” Merida stated coldly, still trying to murder Gardener Madrigal with just her eyes, “I now open the floor to questions…”
A chorus of mages raised hands or summoned lights while Natalya held her breath. This was the moment the archmage’s appointment would make or break things for the pair. But even here, for all the Necropolis’ pretences, or, more kindly, attempts, at equality, there were still firsts amongst equals.
“Aegis Verona, your question?”
“Thank you, archmage.” A rather unadorned lich replied smoothly, “You speak of secrets you cannot speak of. How are we to pass judgement when we cannot even know what we are passing judgement upon?”
“I fear you shall have to take it on advisement Aegis.” Merida told her flatly.
“I refuse. I propose a vote that any secrets we cannot know, they be found innocent due to our inability to judge.” Aegis Verona countered, striking swiftly before someone else could be acknowledged.
“Seconded.” The mage beside her declared.
Merida sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose in near-theatrical frustration. “Very well. Those in favour of such a vote, please indicate.”
The vote was surprisingly close, and perhaps most surprisingly not divided by faction – with the exception of the Slayers of Death who unanimously voted in favour. Natalya wasn’t the only one giving the Necropolis’ most reclusive faction the side-eye.
It took Merida close to a minute to count the votes, the elf finally giving a defeated sigh.
“Very well. All in favour of removing the charges relating to those secrets deemed too dangerous for senior Necropolis consumption please indicate.”
Natalya held her breath even as she summoned her own magelight, a small unflickering orb of sterile white light in her palm. Just because they had agreed to vote didn’t mean the gathered mages intended to vote in the positive, just that enough of them had made their minds up on the issue.
Certainly there was more hesitation, a myriad of lights slowly flickering to life, again with the exception of the Slayers, who’s section of the chamber was a veritable beacon, until finally no new lights revealed themselves.
“Motion passed. The charges are dropped.” Merida stated after a few moments, not bothering to hide her annoyance. “I reopen the floor to questions and statements… Head Gardener Ackeron, you have the floor.”
Unlike many liches the leader of Nataly’s own order had decided to keep his skin, the withered and mummified flesh practically its own leather armour, and made for a uniquely intimidating mask even by Necropolis standards.
“I would like to raise a point of concern.” He began, Natalya’s heart sinking in the process. “Regardless of what we decide regarding the charges, I believe the death penalty should be taken off the table.”
Even Merida looked surprised. One of the big drawbacks to being a living being in the Necropolis, the inability to control one’s expression when most of your colleagues had the ultimate poker face by default. “Elaborate please.” She asked slowly, eyes narrowed as if expecting some kind of trick.
For almost a thousand years Ackeron had been about an unrepentant believer in solving problems both simply and definitely, and there was little simpler or more definite than death.
“If this knowledge is so dangerous… well frankly it’s harder to extract information from the living than the dead. Unless you are going to propose we smelt their combined soul? In which case I would have little choice but to advocate firmly in the negative.”
The elf took a moment to reply to that, “An excellent point. Though I would point out that their soul is doomed to dissolution regardless of our actions in either direction.”
“Be that as it may, the destruction of a soul cannot be countenanced.” Ackeron stated with all the implacable firmness of heavy masonry. “I propose a vote that, irrespective of whether these children are found innocent or guilty, they not be killed or their soul permitted to come to harm.”
“Seconded.” Multiple voices across the chamber raced to cry out.
“I do not believe such a vote is allowable.” Merida told them frostily, “It would render the charges themselves irrelevant if there is no punishment permissable. I reopen the floor to questions.”
There were only a smattering of lights this time, and even they dwindled rapidly back down to one as all eyes turned back to Ackeron, his own beacon, some sort of scrying orb, almost blindingly bright as he bullied the other mages into compliance.
Still Merida did not immediately pass things back to the Head Gardener, a good ten seconds spent trying to turn him into a greasy stain with just her eyes, but Ackeron met that green gaze with his own rather more intimidating empty sockets. Finally Merida gave in, manage to grate out through clenched teeth, “Head Gardener Ackeron, you have the floor.”
“My thanks, Archmage Merida.” The lich replied smoothly, as if even the least of them couldn’t sense the elf plotting his murder through aura alone. “I would like to voice my agreement with your earlier words, that we should not refer to these as charges but merely unfortuitous events. Which means we should not be speaking of punishment when nothing has been done wrong. We are not here to punish, we are here to minimize risk.”
Natalya’s jaw just about hit the floor. There was some kind of game being played here, she was sure of it, but she had not a clue what the pieces were let alone the rules as one of the Necropolis’ most callous senior figures debated what was, in practical terms, mere sophistry.
“An excellent point.” Merida agreed, stepping into the trap laid before her, if for no other reason than to admire the construction. Wanting to see for herself how it would close around her, yet nothing further came from Ackeron, the Head Gardener giving her a mummified smile instead. “I reopen the floor… Master Vala, you may speak next.”
Natalya didn’t know Vala personally, ghoul, something of a rarity and pariah in the Necropolis, and she was certainly getting a lot of side-eye from her fellow mages and undead. For one of the two most undead populated places in the world, it was always a shock to outsiders just how unpopular ghouls were.
The reasons were simple enough. Noone chose to be a ghoul. It wasn’t even done as a punishment. Afflicting the poor soul with an unnatural hunger for human flesh, or any other sapient for that matter. A ghoul’s appetite was in fact regarded as one of the major tests of personhood, if they sight of something made them hungry then they were a living person no matter how unusual the bodyplan.
If they did not feed that cruel hunger they would wither, rot and die. And yet ghouls still happened. They were perceived as a sign of failure, not necessarily personal failure but for a necromancer to rise as a ghoul meant that whatever battle they’d fallen in, and ghouls rose exclusively from battlefields, had been very definitively lost. Noone had rescued the body, or in paladin cases burned it.
Many ghouls reacted to the stigma by becoming hateful or hiding from the world. A rare few saw themselves as guardians of the lost. Vala it turned out fell into the latter camp.
“I think we should all be ashamed.” The ghoul rasped, a hoarse and grating voice that hurt the ears. “I can accept that this a problem that must be solved, and that some of the solutions are mightily callous if not cruel. But I think we are cowards, to consider killing these children without once letting them speak.”
“They are children.” Merida chastised, trying to brush the point aside as an irrelevance, “I highly doubt they have much to shed on the risks that we do not already know.”
“But they do have a larger stake in the outcome.” Vala rasped as gently as her ruined throat could manage. “I would have it put to a vote.”
“I would rule that too vague to be actionable, Necromancer Vala, please state your intent more clearly.”
“I would have it put to vote that we should be allowed to ask the chil- to ask Holly and Alec questions directly about their experiences as well as there intentions and desires going forwards, until such a time as the curiosity of this chamber is satisfied.” The ghoul stared down the ire-filled glares she received for that request, such a questioning could take an age.
Which was rather the point, the more they got to know Holly and Alec, the harder it would be for many to kill them.
Natalya didn’t hesitate, her voice ringing across the chamber in a clear yell of “Seconded!”
“It would be unwise to put this to vote.” Merida countered, “An errant question might uncover secrets best kept buried.”
“That may be.” Vala smiled, “But that’s not yours to decide. A vote has been requested.”
The elf ground her teeth, conceding gracelessly as she snarled, “Fine, on your own heads be it. Just know there are creatures that will hound you to the ends of Reath for knowing some of the things in their heads. All those in favour of such reckless madness, please indicate.”
It wasn’t an exactly unbiased call to action, and Natalya allowed herself to hope as the Sable Shields and Slayers of Death’s sections lit up like beacons. Predictably not a single light rose from the ranks of the Grand Apology, Reath’s sole undead only faction deplored interacting with the living and it would take a lot more than forbidden knowledge or an unjust punishment to move them.
Still with the support of the Gardeners it would take just a smattering of unaffiliated votes to swing it, yet that support never materialised. A few dozen beacons lit but Ackeron’s remained resolutely dark and slowly those lights flickered out until only a handful remained resolutely glowing in defiance of their leader.
Even then the vote could have carried, should have carried. Just under half the Necropolis’ senior leadership belonged to a faction but only a handful of lights glowed from the unaffiliated benches.
Vala, at least, seemed to be trying to make up the difference by sheer enthusiasm, her glowing orb a searing red strobe that tried to shame her fellows into action by its all-consuming brightness, or perhaps was just trying to blind Merida out of spite. Possibly both.
Certainly Natalya upon the dais was forced to shield her eyes with a hand while Holly and Alec turned away to blink spots out of their vision.
Abruptly the light dimmed, a gesture from Merida reducing it to a mere candle’s glow. “While your enthusiasm is appreciated Necromancer Vala, I must ask you restrain yourself. The vote has failed, accept your defeat with grace and decorum.”
“Go to hell Merida.” The ghoul snapped, getting up from her seat, “and as for the rest of you. You’re all cowards and I sincerely hope you rot.”
“Necromancer Vala, you are out of line.” Archmage Merida declared, not even bothering to restrain her smirk. “Desist your disruption or be removed.”
The ghoul gave her the finger, “I’m removing myself Merida. I might lower myself to return when you all find your spines.”
Vala stalked off, taking her time with it, and making sure to slam the door on the way out. It was a selfish gesture, in Natalya’s opinion, the ghoul had in mere moments proven herself the most devout advocate for the two children that she could have wished for, while at the same time removing her ability to advocate for them. Of course there was a darker possibility, one that the necromancer barely dared entertain, that she’d removed herself because the battle was already lost.
There was a game here, and one she should know how to play and play well, and yet nothing was going as she’d expected. The abruptness of the trial had removed the days of backroom dealing, the chances to lay her case, to judge where others lay, and now, here at the trial, the only faction that was behaving as she’d expected was the Sable Shields.
Alas the trial continued despite her doubts, Merida pressing on in Vala’s absence. Natalya let the events simply wash over her as she gnawed away at the puzzle before her.
Ackeron had to be the key to this. He was one of the few in her order senior enough to order her, and in that his silence had been deafening. She’d presumed that made them enemies in this matter, but his contradictory actions today belayed that, and besides he could have just ordered her to comply.
So what was he doing? Casting Alec and Holly in a sympathetic light and yet when given the opportunity not letting them speak in their own defence? It couldn’t possibly be that he feared hearing Merida’s fabled forbidden knowledge, knowledge that Natalya herself had been equal witness to.
Ah. But he could fear other people hearing it. Secrets were a currency far more precious than gold to mages, and what better way to get exclusive access to those secrets than to save Holly and Alec’s lives?
Natalya took a few moments to examine the cascade of logic for flaws, and they certainly were there, but not so many as to think her surmise incorrect. Slowly she allowed herself to relax and just in time too because things in the trial chamber were starting to get a little bit tense.
“Point of order.” A Slayer of Death Natalya didn’t recognise was on her feet, despite a dozen voices yelling at him to sit back down, Merida’s included.
The old woman was having none of it, refusing to return to her seat until she’d been allowed to speak despite having to lean on a staff just to stay upright.
Eventually Merida gave in, “Slayer Arrabelle, I trust there is a good reason for this breach of protocol.”
“Indeed Archmage, I believe I am in possession of information that would change the Necropolis’ stance on this issue as it affects the very survival of this august institution.”
“Make it good Arrabelle.” Merida allowed tiredly.
“I would like it to be known that Alec and Holly have both been bequeathed an honourary membership in the Slayers of Death. We believe their continued survival is of vital importance to our holy mission.”