Justice first. Justice always.

* Motto of the Salitian Justices.

Ferrous waited until Darrian’s men left them alone in the clearing. He had agreed to confess to his crimes, but only to Darrian personally.

“Okay,” Darrian said. “Speak.”

“I don’t suppose you could remove these bolts from my limbs first?” Ferrous asked.

“No.”

“Fine,” Ferrous said. It was worth a try. “So, here’s what happened…

Ferrous had just found and beheaded the men who had kidnapped Lord Ruthering’s daughter and was reporting back to the king. It was Harvest’s End and the castle was adorned with gold-and-green banners in celebration. The king was hosting a great feast that night and, true to form, he would invite one commoner to dine at his table. This meant that the king’s court was alive with excitement about extravagant foods and who would be seated with whom, and the market was alive with rumours and guesses at who would be chosen this year.

It was a pleasant time, and Ferrous felt he might stay in town for the holiday. His job was rewarding, but Ferrous doubted anyone found it relaxing. Well, perhaps Branton, but that man wasn’t quite right.

He strode through the castle gates without being challenged. He was wearing a new face today, but his talix, visible on his hip through its see-through sheath, told them all exactly who he was. No one questioned a Justice. He walked through the castle, his office allowing him to go where he wished, and made for the king’s chambers.

Where he found the Good King in discussion with a tall man with white hair and no eyebrows.

“…ready soon,” the man said.

“Ah, hello Ferrous,” the king said, looking only mildly put out. “Have you met Herman Smite? He’s a rather brilliant inventor from Inveritus. Herman, this is Ferrous Pax, he’s one of my finest Justices.”

“It’s an honour to meet,” Herman said, bowing politely.

“For me as well,” Ferrous said, returning the bow.

“Herman,” the king said. “Would you give me a moment alone with Ferrous? He will have important details to share with me.”

“Of course,” Herman said, bowing again and making his exit.

Ferrous waited until he left, then said, “I assume you are aware that man is Yarrlish.”

The king laughed. He had a pleasant voice well-suited to laughing; deep and cheerful. “Never can slip anything past you. What gave him away?”

“Nothing. His accent was good and Herman Smite sounds like the sort of name a minor Inveritus noble might have. But I can smell the difference.”

Ferrous had learned the art of smelling a person’s heritage from another skard who had spent years studying it and could smell the difference between one family and another. Ferrous hadn’t managed that level of precision yet, but smelling the difference between a Yarrl and a regular human was well within his skill set.

The Good King ran a hand through salt-and-pepper hair. “Well that hardly seems fair. Yes, he’s from Yarrl. We are establishing greater trading links between the Yarrls and Salitos. The current animosity and skirmishes benefit no one.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Ferrous said.

“Come now,” the king said. “We don’t need that level of formality. I’ve told you before, tell me what you really think, and you can call me Hammond when we’re in private.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Ferrous said. “It’s just, I’m concerned. I don’t trust the Yarrls. Their king is a vicious bastard.”

The king chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. So, what have you got to report?”

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Some time later, Ferrous was following the Yarrl who had called himself Herman Smite. He was concerned for his king. The man was an excellent ruler with a keen mind, but he had a habit of seeing the best in people. Ferrous wanted to be sure that tendency wasn’t going to get him into trouble on this Yarrlish trade deal.

Ferrous, now wearing a different face and without his talix, followed Herman, or whatever his real name was, to an inn fancy enough to be called a hotel. Ferrous watched him for days, paying off and borrowing the identity of a hotel server so he could hang around without arousing suspicion.

Eventually, Herman went to meet a pair of men in heavy cloaks who gave him a large chest in the middle of the night. This wasn’t the usual behaviour of a trade delegate, so Ferrous waited until he went out to eat one day and broke into his rooms.

The chest was wood reinforced with iron, and Ferrous had never had much ability with lock-picking. But he had brought his talix with him, and at a thought it transformed into a key that matched the one he had seen Herman’s shady associates give him the previous night.

That didn’t work. Unsurprisingly, Ferrous couldn’t replicate a key after a quick glance at it. But, after experimenting with different key-shapes for about fifteen minutes, he got one that did the trick and the lid popped open.

Inside were three more talix like the one Ferrous held in his hand.

“So talix are made using tomology?” Darrian asked, already having guessed the chain of logic Ferrous was about to explain.

“Yes.”

“Skard,” Darrian said, realizing what that meant. Tomological enhancements and weapons were made by cutting pieces out of living creatures and then imbuing the receiver with their characteristics. If they were put in a person, it would drive them slowly mad, which seemed like a good reason for only making weapons. But, for some reason that Ferrous didn’t understand, some creatures could only make weapons, while others could only be implanted into living hosts.

“Spines,” Ferrous confirmed. “I broke one of the talix and it had a skard’s spine inside.”

“That is awful. And that’s why you killed the king?”

“Of course not,” Ferrous said, offended. “I was angry about it, but I loved the king as much as anyone. The Yarrls would have found plenty of buyers for talix if he hadn’t snapped them up, so it’s not like he was driving demand. I wouldn’t have killed him over that.”

“Oh,” Darrian said, seemingly surprised for the first time since they had met. “Then why?”

“I’m getting to that part. As I was saying…”

Ferrous was furious. The king was buying the spines of his brothers and sisters. Ferrous understood the practicalities of it, but it was still a betrayal. And made worse by the fact that King Hammond had chosen to lie to him about it. Ferrous was under no illusions that the king owed him an explanation on matters of state, but this was the weapon of his office, and it was made out of the bones of his siblings.

Ferrous left the talix where they were. He wanted Herman to know he had been here. Wanted him looking over his shoulder. He entertained visions of skewering the disgusting man on one of the very weapons he had sold.

Maybe later. First things first.

Ferrous stormed through the king’s castle, radiating fury. Servants and guards alike looked away when he entered a room and seemed to hold their breath until he left it. Nobody wanted to question a Justice in the best of times, and nobody wanted to be in the same town when one got mad.

The king wasn’t in his chambers, or the dining hall, or the throne room. Ferrous found the chamberlain attending to some drama or other in the kitchens and confronted him.

“Where’s the king?” he demanded, his voice a whip-crack of authority.

The chamberlain, a slightly portly fellow named Sibin, practically jumped out of his skin. “Oh. Um. Sir. His majesty is in the north tower. But he’s left strict instructions not to be disturbed. He’s with Princess Yew from Tavat.”

That the king had no heir was, as one might imagine, a problem. The previous queen had died and the king had taken no new wife for a long time. But he wasn’t as young as he once was, and he had begun to meet with eligible princesses from nearby countries. Tavat wasn’t a powerful nation, and so wasn’t a likely match, but they were important enough to be worth a meeting. And these meetings were one of the only times that even Ferrous was forbidden from barging in on the king.

Of course, in the mood Ferrous was in, he didn’t much care what was forbidden.

Ferrous left without a word and went straight for the north tower. There were guards posted at the entrance but Ferrous cowed them with a look and a hand on his talix. He stalked up the stairs. They would be in the top room, it a lovely view of the capital and a bed which would be appropriately suggestive of the intimacy of the meeting. Ferrous made it to the door and there was a strange squeaky sound coming from behind. He considered kicking the door down, he was in that sort of mood, but he was already going far beyond the bounds of propriety, and he was still loyal to the king, so he settled for just opening it without knocking instead.

Inside, the Good King was doing something Evil.

Princess Yew was pressed against the bed, her skirts removed and her eyes filled with tears. The king was on top of her, holding her down. The sound Ferrous had heard early was the princess’s muffled sobs into the pillow.

Ferrous couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Something broke inside him. He turned and he left.

“And that’s why you killed him?” Darrian said, sounding sceptical.

“Not right away,” Ferrous said quietly. “I went away to think first. The king I knew was a good and just man. But the king I had just seen was a beast. I’ve been a woman you know. I’ve… it doesn’t matter. I went away to think. I decided a king isn’t above the law and a beast shouldn’t rule Salitos. I did as my office demanded. I killed him.”

“I see,” Darrian said, considering.

“I regret it, you know.”

“You regret killing the king?”

“No. That I don’t regret for one second. I regret leaving. I regret not killing him right there on the spot. I regret leaving Yew with him. I regret that most of all.”