Of all the mistakes and regrets I'd had since I closed CERN, what had happened to Irvin still woke me up late at night. Cedric, Uron, and Lohne had been spared the worst of it. They were Seelie enough and protected by their status that they were ignored for the most part. Cedric's oath of Vassalage gave him some small protection.

And even Mab at the height of loss to her insanity was not so far gone as to destroy the first Anam Cara, the first Sidhe that had found the other half of their soul in hundreds of thousands of years. They were still subjected to torture, but it was more psychological than physical. I think she knew that her Court and the Sidhe would tear her apart if she destroyed proof that fertility and the Goddess Danu might once again bless the Seelie people.

But Irvin was more than a Vassal. He had been adopted as a member of House Teigh. And as a member of House Teigh, he should have been inviolable without the permission of Head of House. But Mab and the Sidhe considered him lesser. He was a Kelpie, and this made him worthless. Whispers abounded that even the Goddess Belisama had turned her back on the Kelpie because even in Sleep, the protections she had left began to fade. Fade until the only sign of her Divine benevolence that remained was the challenge arena and a Peace-maker profession that was fading.

The thoroughness of Irvin's torture broke something in him. His impartiality, his quest to fulfill the ethos that Belisama had made the fundamental cornerstone of the Peace-maker profession was fractured. He was plagued by nightmares, reliving that year of torture over and over. And he was unable to forgive. Forgive a Goddess that created a profession and set it free in a world that would disparage and maim anyone foolish enough to walk that path.

His nightmares, his inability to break free of the horrors that he had endured, made it impossible for me to forgive myself. Angry at my idiocy, angry at my abandonment, angry that I had fulfilled the culmination of a quest that saved two worlds while sacrificing the people that had pledged oaths, oaths that were much more than a servant. Those Oaths were predicated on friendship, trust, and respect. They were ties that represented so much more than that of Lord and Vassal.

He was an adopted son of House Teigh and should have been protected, and it was this combined with the inability to divest himself of the trauma he had endured, to look at issues rationally, free of bias, that was the final break needed to strip him of the Peace-maker Profession.

I think if the Sidhe Royals had received justice, he might have healed. But he was forced to watch, wounds still fresh and seeping as the Summerlands gave Lugh and Puck comfort. He watched in horror as they turned their back on all the evil Mab had done and was embraced by the timeless comfort of eternal Spring. They were safe in the bosom of those lands that ignored time, where good and evil were abstract concepts but never touched those that walked the eternal fields. And he was forced to remain behind, in a world that would allow evil to gain a throne.

When Lugh and Puck were accepted by the Summerlands, it was as if the Gods themselves had stretched out their hands and gave acceptance and understanding for all that they had done. And if the Gods would brook and reward their perfidy and cruelty, then was that really something he hoped to aspire to? Did he really want to please a Pantheon of beings that had nothing to offer as punishment for those that had done real evil and cruelty?

The Sidhe had no concept of Hell. Arawn, the God of the Underworld had restored choice. The Summerlands were the afterlife all hoped to attain, and it was once again open. Open and accepting of men that had enabled the madness of Queen Mab. For those that didn't or couldn't accept that choice, their only recourse was to once again ride the wheel of life, recycled and reincarnated into their next life.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Today I would give Irvin a foreshadow of what that next life might look like. He had become the very thing he despised. His actions cruel and hurtful. For the most part, his attention was focused on those that might deserve a certain amount of retribution and justice. But he was careless, and occasionally he would dispense judgment on those that were innocent.

That he did so under the banner of House Teigh meant that those he offended or wronged had no recourse. Unless they wished to bring their grievances to the throne. And not many people were brave enough to chart those waters.

If Duke Desmond of the Aziza hadn't assigned a hive to follow and monitor him, I probably would have never learned of his actions. Thankfully, he had. And armed with his report about Irvin's most recent venture into vigilantism, I could no longer ignore that person he had become.

If the Sidhe had psychologists, I might have sought help, but we didn't. What we did have were mind magics, illusions, and glamour. And I was going to do something that was anathema to me. I was going to force him to relive his recent actions, his destruction of a goblin camp based on rumor and innuendo using those illusions. His fury recorded by the Aziza that were always present.

He had acted without verifying those whispers and accusations. Whispers bandied about that the goblins were outlaws and that they were known to trap Wisps and Volar-fey to dine on. This had been enough for him to act.

He had slaughtered the entire camp. It was only after the last body had fallen, that he saw the truth. These people weren't a camp of slavers or cannibals. They were a small family, and he had been set up to destroy them. The Aziza that had been assigned to follow him discovered that a local Lord had turned them off their property, depriving them of income and home. His response to my law that individuals must be paid a real wage.

They had made camp near a stream to survive. A small bit of safety near enough to water teeming with fish to live, if frugally, until circumstances changed, or opportunities found them. Thankfully, he had not become so lost to madness that he had killed the children. His actions already called out for justice. But if he had sunk so far as to kill an infant, there would be no redemption. I would have dispensed High Justice and killed him out of hand.

No matter that he was an adopted son of my House and the son of one that I have forged bonds of brotherhood with, the slaughter of children and infants was unforgivable. There would be no kindness I could have offered. I would have been forced to tell his parents how far he had fallen, and they would be honor-bound to stand witness as he was executed.

Bringing him home, became a trial in patience. He hadn't wanted to return to Saor. He ignored missives and messages, refusing my summons. I finally was forced to dispatch a royal Herald, invested with the power of Word to find him, and force him to return or be considered in mutiny to King and Kingdom. He was not so far gone that he would refuse that command. He might consider it, but if he had, he would be branded an outlaw, and any that came across him could execute him without remorse and earn a bounty for their action.

I hoped that the lengths I was willing to go to get him to come home would impress upon him the seriousness of his situation. I was about to find out. And to silence the whisperings of those at Court, those that suggested I would bury evidence, or give token punishment to one of my House, I was going to have this discussion openly, for any to see.

Because a House member or not. Shared history or stranger. Friend or foe. I wanted to demonstrate to him and everyone else that every citizen of my Kingdom was precious. Irvin had destroyed an innocent family, and I would not ignore his actions.

Not even a member of my House. My adopted son's actions would not be ignored, and he would stand to answer for what he had done.