Jay woke up exhausted in a strange room, on a strange, sinfully soft bed, cleaned of sweat and blood, and wearing a strange shift.

The sun was shining onto their face.

Their thoughts were blurry, their vision too, and it took quite a few solid blinks before their surroundings came into focus and they could actually get a grip on the room they were in. It was small but clean and warmed by a heater near the back window. The walls were a pleasant white plaster with a colorful trim near the floor, which was stone. It was sparsely furnished with only the bed, a simple wooden chair with a covered breakfast tray placed over the armrests, and a heater near the back window which was transparent glass.

Jay’s clothes dried on a line stretched out from the other window on a long copper pole. They were fluttering occasionally in the gentle morning breeze, but didn’t have even a speck of dawn frost on them. Jay was on the second story of what must be a house on the northern outskirts of Pleurian, in a room overlooking both the forest and the town.

Stone construction. Enchanted clothes dryer. Enchanted heater. Transparent glass windows, plural. This was the richest house Jay had ever been in, and they were immediately nervous about that.

They tried to sit up and fetch their clothes, seeking to sneak out and escape the inevitable awkward conversation with whatever important person had hosted them for the night, but a burst of agony through their side and back put a stop to those devious plans.

Instead, Jay groaned, adjusted their pillow to support their aching back, and reached for the tray of breakfast. It smelled delicious, of porridge and fruit and hot tea. A faint waft of steam lifted from the tray as Jay carefully removed the cover and placed it on the chair. Faint runes glimmered on its underside, silver inlaid into lacquered wood. An enchanted cloche? Jay upgraded their assessment of the house from "obscenely rich" to "unfathomably rich".

Suspiciously so, for a town of three hundred. There was no way Pleurian could support a house like this, the owner had to be from elsewhere. Perhaps a fabulously lucky Pleurian trader had moved to a city and clawed their way up Varmyr society to become a Doge aspirant before using some of that wealth to build a retreat back home. It was the only explanation Jay could think of at the moment, but they were also exhausted and in pain and not in their sharpest mind.

The breakfast was indeed porridge, fresh fruit (in winter), and a cup of mint tea, accompanied by a small salad of greens and a single, steaming apple pastry. There was also a note attached to a small bell, with text in both Rhina and Reono. Jay mixed the fruit into the porridge and read the note between bites.

The Rhina version, to be clear. Their knowledge of the Reono used by academics was mediocre at best.

"Ring this bell when you are finished with breakfast. We need to talk. Jeshin Lyra."

So Jeshin had a last name. Interesting.

"P.S the toilet is at the end of the hall, to the left, if you have the need and can manage the walk. Don’t push yourself. Don’t remove the marker."

Marker? Jay frowned and then noticed that their shift had a life marker sown into the left breast. It wasn’t pulsing any color, but Jay supposed that doctor’s orders were doctor’s orders and didn’t remove it. They would have to transfer it to their shirt if they felt able to get clothed.

Jay was surprisingly hungry and finished the entire meal in short order, slowing down to savor every bite of the pastry. It was just as delicious as they remembered from last night. They thought to ring the bell after but another need insisted on being met first.

Jay hobbled to their feet, pain flaring at the movement, and leaned on the wall to steady themself. They kept a hand on the wall as they opened the door (copper doorknob!), and made their way down a short hall. Jay passed a couple of doors on either side before making their way into the one Jeshin had indicated, where they were confronted by a device which was obviously a toilet but not one Jay had ever seen before. Or even heard of.

It looked like a cross between a noble throne and a street toilet, and Jay downgraded their assessment of the house from "unfathomably rich" to "eccentric’s mad dream." The device didn’t stink like an outhouse, so it obviously carried waste somewhere, but it didn’t gurgle like a street toilet so it obviously didn’t. Jay was annoyed by the contradiction, and decided to investigate. With trepidation. Upon opening the toilet lid, Jay was confronted by a pool of stagnant water and a instructions written in Reono on the underside. Jay gave their grudging approval to the placement, which was mildly clever. Points subtracted for the choice of language, though.

"Let’s see" they murmured. "You sit, you excrete, and you... pull that lever?" Huh. That was a pretty clever design, like a combination outhouse and street toilet. But it was missing a very important part, namely the cleaning afterwards, and Jay didn’t see anything with which to do so other than a small, sheer white towel hanging on a pole (copper again!) to the side. No leaves, no paper, no sponge. That piece of cloth cost more than Jay made in a week, and they would not soil it. The Reono said something about a fountain, but Jay couldn’t find one in the room and was growing more frustrated by the heartbeat. They decided to give up.

"I only need to pee, anyway." They psyched themself up. "I’ll follow the useless instructions, be extra careful, clean with my shift, then change and call Jeshin." Jay spared a thought for the poor servant who would need to clean the shift, but consoled themself that said servant worked for a madperson and had probably seen much worse consequences of the house’s lack of standards or clear instructions. Jay liked standards and clear instructions.

PIC [https://scythiamarrow.org/archive/SplinterGuard/Art/SectionMarkerJay.png]

Jay’s plan worked flawlessly, and they even remembered to quickly sew the marker into the sleeve of their shirt after getting dressed. After a quick inspection they rang the bell and waited for Jeshin’s arrival, standing near the town window to people watch.

And waited.

After a while their back grew painful enough that they dragged the chair over and sat down. The town was unusually quiet, as if everyone had started second sleep much too late. They probably had, it had been a hectic night. The only person about was that master mage, who poked about the tailory for a bit before hurrying off to the east. Even the birds seemed late to chirp. Jay moved their chair over to the other window and watched the forest instead.

By the time the door slowly creaked open the sun had burned away the frost on the trees and Jay was fidgeting in frustration. They had spotted at least five distinct crows and one deer and wished they had brought their sketchbook with them to the festival so they could at least draw the wildlife while they waited.

"Jay? Are you awake?" Jeshin called from behind the partially opened door. "We need to talk."

"Yes, I’m awake. Come in!" Jay answered, eagerly.

"Oh good." Jeshin said. "I was worried..." She stopped as she spotted Jay. "You’re up. And dressed."

She narrowed her eyes.

"How long have you been waiting?"

"I rang the bell a couple of hours ago." Jay supplied cheerfully.

Jeshin placed two fingers on her forehead, a sign of devotion to Utu and a prayer for patience.

"Jay, I have been waiting downstairs since dawn. I obviously didn’t hear the bell, but if you are up and about you could have just walked down. Or shouted for me by name."

Jay blinked. Oh, yea, that made sense. They could definitely have done that. Jay rubbed their neck and gave the first lame excuse that popped into their mind.

"I thought the bell was enchanted, and you were just busy."

"I am busy" Jeshin sighed. "But this is important."

She sat on the side of the bed and fixed Jay with an intense stare. Jay remembered a leveled halberd, a threat of death. They shivered.

Jeshin continued once she was sure she had Jay’s attention.

"The townspeople want blood and they saw me haul Haz back in chains with trashed armor and you unconscious on my back. I had to give her up to their custody, she’s currently locked in the basement. Archon will want to speak to you about what happened, and if you tell the truth he will execute Hazlet. That means kill, Jay. Kill someone you shared a fire with, my friend."

Jay looked away. "She tried to kill me. She tried to kill you." Their side was still throbbing with pain.

Jeshin growled "She was manipulated by Amp. A demon. Look at me Jay."

Jay refused.

"Look at me!" She roared, and this time Jay obeyed.

"Haz has had a hard life. She wanted to make it easier by stealing from others. That’s not worth a death sentence. She is a terrible mercenary and a terrible friend. That doesn’t matter. Murdering her would be a waste. Do you understand?"

Jay shook their head, sullenly.

"I don’t understand," They said, "It doesn’t matter what her motives were, she didn’t care for Brig and he died because of it. That’s murder. Murderers should face justice. Otherwise what’s stopping them from killing again?"

"I will," Jeshin said, "I’ll make sure Haz doesn’t get into trouble again. Or do you not trust my skill, after I saved your life? Twice, I might add, one of those being from your own incredible stupidity."

She took a breath and continued, relentless.

"This isn’t some child graffitiing a Doge’s manor, or a pickpocket stealing a handkerchief. This isn’t even a mugging. Stop talking about justice like you have any idea what it means. Justice is abstract, and this is someone’s life, Jay. Hazlet is more than a murderer. She wants to redeem herself, to prove her name and return to the Queendom. She wants a family someday Jay. A Husband. Children.

She wants to name her eldest Annphe." Jeshin snarled. "And I will not let you take that from her."

Jay had had enough. Their side still hurt, and Jeshin’s shouting was painfully loud and did nothing to help their exhaustion.

"And how many people have you killed?" Jay challenged. "How many lives have you cut short, just for coin."

They took a breath.

"I know it’s at least one. You knew Amp, you knew its name. You said Amp manipulated the murderer, but you knew about it and didn’t stop it from doing so. You said you would take responsibility for Hazlet, but she already was your responsibility and you failed. Either you took the life yourself or you can’t be trusted to handle your own."

Jeshin’s eyes blazed.

"Don’t you dare put that on me," She snarled, "Don’t you dare talk about what I’ve been through like you know the slightest shit about what I do."

She reached for the concealed dagger at her waist, then stopped and took a breath. When she continued her tone was cold, merciless.

"To answer your question: two. I have killed two people before, and both thoroughly deserved it."

She moved from the bed and stalked over to Jay, looming over their chair. Jay would have stood in response if they could.

"As for this conversation, I don’t care to continue it." She said. "When Archon asks about what happened during the night, you will lie. You will say that Amp attacked us three out of nowhere, and that you and Haz were knocked out during the fighting. You will say that Amp claimed it had been freed from its contract with Archon by a shaman of the Ufriq caravan staying east of town, in exchange for helping steal the fireworks. You will save my friend’s life."

She leaned closer and presed Jay down into the chair hard enough it sent a spasm of pain through their back before whispering in their ear.

"Or you will be the third person I kill."

Jay dimly realized that Jeshin’s plan would work. Ufriq were a strange people who did not trade in gold or own land, and were generally viewed with suspicion. It was said they had access to strange magics and creatures, and many eccentric mages had joined their ways over the years. The Ufriq may truly know a method to break a demonic contract.

Lying in this way would certainly save Hazlet’s life. It was also the most vile act Jay could think of. They would rather drive a dagger into their own heart than do this.

Jay nodded, and hated themself for doing so.

PIC [https://scythiamarrow.org/archive/SplinterGuard/Art/FullSectionJaySuicide.png]

It took half an hour after Jeshin left for Jay’s thoughts to return to a semblance of normality. Their mantra, ignited by the conflict and stoked by Jay’s desperate need to find a just path, any just path, out of this situation had swelled into an incoherent cacophony of trembling, spitting, clawing loathing.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Jeshin was right that killing Hazlet wasn’t just. But pointing blame at innocents wasn’t just either. If Jay wasn’t such a complete idiot, they would be able to find a solution, the mantra moaned. They were a waste a space, an idiot, a failure, and an evil spineless coward that planned to harm others to save themself, the mantra shrieked.

Jay distracted themself from it by idly contemplating if throwing themself from the window would kill them or just break enough bones to hurt very badly.

The ground is soft grass, so probably not lethal unless I go headfirst, and I don’t trust myself to manage that, They eventually decided, That plan’s a bust.

They desperately flailed about for other options. One couldn’t harm oneself using one’s own magic, unfortunately, and Jay did not own a weapon as a matter of principle. The exact reason why escaped them at the moment, but Jay knew it was important.

Their eyes touched the clothesline out the window and lingered. Perhaps they could hang themself from it. The twine would definitely hold, it was sturdy hemp, but Jay didn’t know if the pole was mounted deep into the wall or just glued to the surface. Given that it was enchanted, it was probably a surface mount for easy maintenance. So that was a bust.

They could maybe tie the rope to the bed, but then they would have to move it closer to the window and someone would hear and come to investigate. The chair wasn’t sturdy nor large enough to wedge into the window, and Jay didn’t especially like fire so anything involving the heater was a bust as well.

Jay sighed. Suicide was hard. Might as well keep living. At least contemplating it had calmed them down, the mantra was back to a manageable dull roar. Worse than usual, but they were tired so that was expected. Jay stood and made their way out of the room and down the stairs to the right, savoring the pain that ignited through their back and side at the movement. It was a bit duller than this morning, which was a shame. As was the fact that throwing themself down the stairs wouldn’t work either.

PIC [https://scythiamarrow.org/archive/SplinterGuard/Art/SectionMarkerJay.png]

The stairs were made of wood planks placed over stone, and creaked mightily as Jay walked down them. They emerged into a common dining room, beside a great oak table laden with supplies of all sorts. Snacks, water, medical equipment, colorful flags, paper, organizational lists... this room had obviously been used as both a place to organize festival activities and then been quickly refitted to a medical station after the explosion.

A man was sitting near the northeast corner of the room, opposite the open front door, and keeping a trained eye on a teenager and a young boy who were playing a game with a piece of string. He gave Jay a small wave, which they awkwardly returned.

"Is that Jay?" A voice called out from a room to the west. The voice’s owner must have heard the stairs creaking. "Come on in."

Jay wanted to creep out the front door and make their escape. They could just pretend they had not heard the voice, go back to their camp, pack up, and flee this complete mess they had been caught in. They still had a home to return to for the winter, and maybe Jeshin would not bother with killing them for deserting her plan. She was heading south, not northwest, after all.

Jay remembered the wind of Jeshin’s breath on their ear, felt a shadow of the same sheer panic that had risen within them at her threat. Maybe her killing them would be a good thing. One less coward in the world.

Jay ultimately decided that ignoring the voice would be frightfully rude, so they made their way into what turned out to be the main bedroom of the mansion, richly furnished and featuring a bed four times the size of anything remotely reasonable.

The voice’s owner turned out to be Yeon, who was sitting upright in the bed propped up against the headboard by a stack of pillows. She was heavily bandaged along her right side and face, her right arm was splinted and in a sling, and she was surrounded by a veritable mountain of stuffed velvet dolls of various people and monsters. Jay spotted a manticore, two hydras, a demon, and even a dragon breathing a spiky red flame. A strange man wearing white robes was sitting by the bed at her right, reading a book, but he didn’t bother looking up as Jay entered.

Yeon smiled warmly and gestured to the foot of the bed. "You can sit or lie down by Frederwitch over there." Jay spotted a doll with tusks wearing a broad witch’s hat towards where Yeon had waved. They decided to sit on a chair towards the front of the room instead. Far, far away from the rich madwoman who despite being a holy of Gula, she of healing, charity, and holy light, had decided to spend more on custom velvet dolls than the rest of her mansion put together. Including that frustrating, nonstandard toilet. Who even was she?

The corners of Yeon’s mouth twisted down slightly at Jay’s choice of seat. "I spoke with Jeshin this morning, after I regained consciousness." She said. "She had to stitch your spine and ribs back together last night. They are still broken and only held in place by a spell she tied to your magic.

Quite an ingenious spell, at that, and one she refused to teach me. I should probably..."

She shook her head. "Not important. What I mean is that you should be unable to move. At least not without massive pain and a drain on your alertness. I hardly believed it when she said you were up."

The man at her side flipped a page in his book.

Jay faintly realized they were indeed very tired and in a lot of pain, but it didn’t bother them much.

"I guess I have a high pain tolerance." They deflected. "I always have. Besides, I really must get going. Places to be, you know. Very important. Stuff."

Jay winced at their clumsy wording.

Yeon gave them a long look, face gone still as a forest spring. When she finally broke the silence her voice was hesitant.

"You are of course free to leave whenever you want. I would be breaking my vows to Gula if I held you here for medical reasons. Jeshin cleared you to walk, doing so won’t damage you further physically as long as you maintain her spell. However." She paused to choose her words carefully. "Moving extensively could delay your recovery. I would strongly recommend that you stay here in my care and hospitality until you are fully recovered, which would take about two months or so."

Jay winced at the thought of burdening Yeon by staying in this place for nearly sixty days.

"Which." She continued. "Would not even begin to repay you for saving my life. So I have to ask. Are you okay, Jay?" Yeon’s eyes were piercing, uncomfortably so.

Jay looked away and didn’t answer.

Eventually she continued.

"You are safe here. Anything you say will be under Gula’s grace. I could not judge you for it, nor could I act on any information you choose to share without your express permission."

The reading man shut his book and left the room with a small nod at Yeon, closing the door behind him with barely a sound.

Jay didn’t volunteer to start the interrogation, so Yeon took the lead.

"Yesterday you saw someone die in front of you, Jay. You kept your head very well during the immediate crisis, but even those of us who have experienced worse can get shaken by a sudden tragedy. Do you want to talk about it?" Yeon asked.

Jay shook their head.

Yeon picked up a doll with her left hand, squeezed it absently, then continued.

"You ran into the woods, chasing after Hazlet, and got lost enough you were covered in frostbite when Jeshin found you. Do you want to talk about that?"

Jay shook their head again.

Yeon slogged onwards.

"When you returned Jeshin was covered in cuts and pierced by a dozen spears of demonic bone. You, however, were not pierced or cut indiscriminately but bludgeoned by something small that was obviously aiming for vital spots. Do you want to talk about why?"

This time Jay just looked out the window, refusing to engage. They absently noticed Yeon squeezing the doll so tightly its head threatened to pop right off, which was actually pretty funny.

She took a deep breath and continued, pleading.

"Jay, please. You are safe here. I can help you. If the Crimson Throats are threatening you, I can protect you. I can send for paladins from Two Crosses, they would get here in less than a week. In the meantime Ian and I are no strangers to conflict ourselves. The Throats will back down, especially if I threaten to have a Doge pull their charter. They wouldn’t risk becoming outlaws just to save Hazlet from Ishkur’s judgement."

Jay recoiled, they couldn’t bear the questioning anymore.

"I’m fine, Yeon," They practically shouted. "I’m just tired and hurt. I have processed Brig’s death, certainly more than his family has. Maybe go bother them with your sympathy. I don’t need a paladin escort, that sounds horrid, and just in case you haven’t noticed you are bedridden and I wouldn’t bet on you winning a fight against a housecat.

And I don’t want help from your connections" Jay almost spat the word. "I just want. I just want..."

They trailed off.

What did they want? They wanted to scream at the world, to take each and every one of those obscene dolls and rip them to pieces. They wanted to cry until they couldn’t cry anymore, to grow a spine and stand up to Jeshin and tell her that she was wrong to threaten them, that if she had just trusted them to do the right thing they would have. They wanted to collapse into Yeon’s care and sleep for two months and forget that this stupid new years even happened.

They wanted to die.

"I just wanted to have fun at a silly little festival."

PIC [https://scythiamarrow.org/archive/SplinterGuard/Art/SectionMarkerJay.png]

Yeon did not push Jay any further after that. Instead, she invited Jay to pick out a doll to hold while she told stories. She said it was because she was bored to tears by being bedridden, but Jay suspected it was just an attempt to make them feel better. After all, the door stayed closed and Gula’s seal stayed in effect.

It turned out that Yeon was indeed from Pleurian, but she was not a merchant lucky enough to climb to Doge aspirant. She was an adventurer extraordinarily lucky enough to live to retirement.

The dolls were, in her words, "A bit of cheating. Gula is strict about charity but not that strict. Besides, each one marks a monster I killed in her name or a friend that helped me do it."

Jay decided on a doll shaped like a large ocotopus except with more eyes and a vividly orange beak, called "Eyelegs. Like eyelids, but with more legs".

Eyelegs was sinfully warm and soft, and the story about its demise was enthralling.

"...So then Athke spotted Eyelegs off the stern and nearly screamed himself hoarse about how it was back for round two, and Zap asked how he would know when he only ever lasted one. Ian was stumbling around like a drunkard trying to stay awake after using too much magic boosting the ship, and Stuko just looked at it like they were two heartbeats away from jumping overboard to fight it underwater in full plate..." Yeon narrated.

The door slammed open, cracking against the wall and sending dolls flying from where they had fallen in front of Jay’s chair. They had evaluated many promising candidates before choosing eyelegs.

A man walked in, and Jay thought he looked like the very model of a Xilae prince. The man had long pointed ears, skin a shade darker than any Jay had ever seen, even on other Xilae, and facial features so sharp they almost seemed to cut Jay’s eyes from just a casual glance. His hair was cut close to the scalp, his beard was neatly trimmed close to his face, and his eyes were a striking green with a ring of purple that marked many noble families in eastern Juvelin. He was wearing plate armor, a red silk scarf, and carrying a sword longer than Jay was tall attached to his back with enchanted clasps.

Yeon looked at the man with visible disdain.

"Archon, I presume". She said. "You just violated a seal of Gula. That does not go without notice, in the god’s eyes or in the eyes of the republic."

Archon just smiled in response, and Jay’s heart fluttered at the sight. Were they just attracted to dangerous people? Archon was probably four times their age, but that smile was very confident. Too bad his words were as disgusting as he was handsome. Archon spoke in a southern Rhin drawl.

"Oh so that was what I felt soiling the door. I broke it so fast I couldn’t tell the exact type of godly excrement." He said, and stalked towards the bed. "If you want to keep a soldier out of a place you use a soldier, not something squirted into your brain after giving head to a god. You are keeping one of mine captive here. I have come to collect her, and I don’t see any soldiers here to stop me."

The casual blasphemy unnerved Jay. Religion wasn’t a big part of their life, but they would never insult a god, much less directly to the face of a holy.

So this is Archon, Jay thought. No wonder Jeshin is scared of him. I’ll eat a whole crow if he doesn’t own an estate in Juvelin where he hunts peasant children for sport. With no sauce.

Yeon seemed unfazed by both Archon’s words and his looming.

"As expected from a proud Diabolist." She spat the word. "Did losing your estate to a House inquest truly teach you nothing? Soldiers serve the people, or they get put down like the monsters they become. Hazlet is being held for trial by the paladins of Ishkur for the crimes of murder, assaulting a holy, attempted murder, and unlawful diabolism. You cannot take her, both to ensure justice and for her own protection."

Jay perked up. This was the way out. Jeshin was scared of Archon executing Hazlet, a fear Jay sympathized with. They weren’t sure if such a thing would be just. But the paladins had the direct word of Ishkur to advise them. Their trial would certainly lead to a just result, one Jeshin would accept. They were well known for both upstanding integrity and accepting criminals and even murderers into their ranks. Maybe Haz could become a squire as penance?

"Murder?" Archon laughed. "I see no body. The boy you claim was murdered, Bread is it? is up and about. Walking and talking, and what a pretty story he tells. Why, he swears up and down that the explosion was his fault and Hazlet wasn’t even near the hut at the time he dropped the candle he was playing with. She was out back, taking a piss in the woods after he had fucked her silly.

Isn’t that right Bread?" He called out.

A ghost of a young man stepped into the room. Jay had seen that face torn in half the night before, had seen those limbs inside and out. It was unmistakably Brig.

"Yes, sir." He stammered. "Haz had nothing to do with it. I’m Brig though, sir."

"So you see." Archon said, turning back to Yeon. "The only thing dear Hazlet is guilty of is breaking my orders against fraternization with locals. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to punish her appropriately. Amputation Demon is furious about dying and needs to be placated. It hear it loves Tre eyes."

He winked.

Yeon’s composure broke. The doll she was clutching burst as she trembled with barely contained fury. Motes of divine light flickered into place around her head as she stood from the bed. Jay half expected her to smite Archon where he stood.

"You will burn for raising one of mine, Archon. Release your grip on Brig’s soul and I promise you a trial before Ishkur. Which is more than a necromancer deserves." She said.

Brig discretely checked his body as if he was searching for puppet strings, panic clearly visible on his face. Did he not even realize he was undead? Jay had never heard of necromancy powerful enough to raise someone without their awareness, but then again they were not well versed in the subject. The only necromancy they knew by heart was the diagnosis spell.

Or vivomancy, rather. Jay corrected internally. They were beginning to understand why holies made such a big fuss about the distinction. Perhaps Archon was moving Brig in that manner as a sick joke.

"Necromancy?" Archon wondered. "I would never. The last necromancer on Loerma who made the mistake of getting caught touching your precious corpses was hounded by your dogs all the way to Storohg and butchered in the streets of Valholm. I hear it caused quite the transoceanic diplomatic incident."

He enunciated each word of the last sentence with the clipped diction of a Juvelin noble before descending back into his drawl.

"If I were to use necromancy on those under your care, holy, you would never be able to catch me."

He straightened from his looming and began walking away from the bed.

Yeon did not try to stop him. The lights around her head winked out, and her eyelids fluttered from the sudden exhaustion. Jay realized with a start that Archon had won. He was walking away. He would collect Hazlet feed her eye to a demon, and keep using her like he used the other Throats until she died for his gain.

Jay saw no justice in that, even less than they saw from Jeshin’s plan. But they could still stop it. What had Yeon said? That she was accused of unlawful diabolism? Jay had seen her make that contract with the Amputation Demon to kill them and Jeshin. They were an eyewitness to one of the charges and the only other witness was Jeshin, who was biased. And the demon, but it did not count.

"Archon!" Jay shouted.

Archon ignored them. They went to shout again, to stand up and grab the mercenray, but Yeon stopped them by gesturing in sign language.

"No, Jay". She signed. Jay’s sign was a J swooped in an arc like a bird in flight. "I don’t know what you know, but you can’t beat Archon here." Yeon signed Archon’s name as an arch crowned by a penis. Fitting. "I don’t have a good enough reason to hold Hazlet". Hazy island. "if Brig" Brig. "won’t cooperate."

Yeon glanced to Brig, who looked away and clenched his jaw, before continuing.

"I’ll talk to my contact and send an inquisitor after the Throats. We can’t beat him right now, but he picked a fight he can’t win. The House has beaten him before, we will do it again."

Archon lingered at the door, seemingly debating something internally, before he looked over his shoulder and threw a last parting shot.

"Maybe you should check your own House before throwing stones at mine, holy. In my experience Demons are much more trustworthy than Aether. Demons follow orders. Aether do whatever their god tainted minds think best. With no regard to the consequences."

He waved to Brig.

"Come on, recruit. No dawdling."

Brig hurried after him, signing his apologies to Yeon.

"Sorry. I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt Hazlet," He signed.

Jay highly doubted that was possible, but they did not stop Brig as he left, closing the door behind him. The wood flickered with a faint light as Gula’s seal reasserted itself.

Yeon took a deep breath, then cursed harder than a sailor. "Ishtar’s cunt what the fuck was Amber thinking?"