Komas was a man indebted-- to his people, to his land, and to fate, which gave him more chances than he figured he deserved. At long last a freeman, he deemed it high time he paid back his debts, beginning with the Consulate woman... Justice could wait no longer.

Before the troupe who took him in once more, Komas relayed his experience with the Imperials. They commended his bravery, but condemned his foolishness withal. However, it was the autochthon's escape which captured unanimous intrigue. "-Unless my senses play tricks," he remarked, "I believe she intended to distract them as I absconded. Such lenience cannot go unreciprocated..." In response Ini said, "With little doubt of your senses, I too hold true that none should be held to slavish devotion of their superiors. Even had she not assisted you, I'd suggest we assist the poor lass." Others amongst the crowd concurred. "So, our path henceforth is clear, no?" Komas asked, searching for agreement. Eyes shifted amongst them, scanning for it. To take action against the Empire, in any regards, would be akin to declaring war. "I believe we agree, yet fear the consequence of doing this wrong," One said from the crowd, with others at her back. "Then," the soldier-no-longer announced, "We'll do it right."

In the end, five volunteered- Komas, Ini, and three others- to bear the ire of the Imps. The next course of action was developing a plan; they posthaste went to work on this matter atop a rug.

There was much deliberation to do with intention, or how they intended to make good on the woman's sacrifice: Obviously, they had to manumit her from those Imperial chains which the conspirators knew all-too-well. Alas, a life on the run is taxing, and to compel her into it would be cruel. The just path, they reckoned, was to promote her self-determination once freed.

By and by, the issue of methods emerged, demanding Komas' analytical mind. Recalling lessons in strategy he once learned from his general, he carved a rough scheme: In order to avoid bloodshed, this mission would be of the in-and-out variety, Gods willing. And while there was no telling what violence they were to be met with, the would-be liberators understood that spilling Imperial blood would only fan the flames of consequence-- flames which could burn not just those who participate, but too those who do not.

Komas and the four intrepid souls ready thoroughly; praemonitus, praemunitus.

***

Now, one lonely consul guard sighs as she approaches her work: A pile of codices to be managed. The guard, sentenced to desk work, puts her all into this laborious task, despite its monotony. She sifts between documents and creates stacks: Prisoner records here, notices of policy there, and classified documents over there. Quietly, in her mind, a despair grows... She laments, how many times has she performed this tedious work before? And how long must she comply with that cursed abuser?

"Lilah, answer my query. Do thou feign deafness?" She swings her head towards her superior, having been engulfed in concentration to the point of engrossment. "I, I-" she stumbles. "Speak, quean, and don't beg me to repeat." Lilah knows the officer japes, yet takes it quietly; she has felt extra fearful of him since recent incidents. Standing in the door of her office, the decorated man occupies the width of the frame. Lilah, under pressure, wishes that the ceiling would cave on the tyrant and bury him for good. Bravely, she gathers her forces and mutters, nigh inaudibly, "I would thou end these antics and avaunt." He sneers at her. "Huh? Speak up, or thou'll taste my palm." Lilah's heart pounds a drum-- she has never provoked him as such 'till now-- Knowing she may come to regret the seeds she sows, she commits to this game and says, "I have spoken, ruffian. Or, do thou feign deafness?"

"Why..." The sentry starts, at his restraint's end. He stamps the floor like a child-- and draws a blade. Lilah has not the time to tell if he truly intends to slice her-- the sword rises-- and, most suddenly, an unseen tool swings from beyond the door, clubbing the Imp's crown. In a swift moment the crude weapon makes impact-- and the giant topples.

"Justice cannot wait, the time is...!"

Ini stood towering over the felled officer, a blunt shipyard implement in hand. He saw little blood pouring from his target, a welcomed sign indicating that he was not struck hard enough to die. He said naught to her, but gestured for Lilah to follow. Did this stranger, this violent invader, seriously intend to ask for cooperation? Reflexively, she drew her own pocket-blade and lunged for the assailant. Verily she was quicker than Ini had expected, and he fell backwards as the dagger careened towards him.

Now, Komas makes a not-so-meek entrance into the grand lobby, with a partner beside him. At their face is an unarmored sentry, who Komas bats aside with but the weight of his body. Anon another sentry takes its predecessor's place, and a formidable one at that. This armored guard hurtles towards the invaders-- his sword swung left-- Fortunately, Komas chose to leap right. The ever-slippery hawk evades the blows one after another, while his partner binds the felled guard apace. Komas, engrossed in the throes of combat, hears anon a recognizable voice-- One familiar young sentry looses a battle cry-- dashing towards the soldier-no-longer, his weapon is held high, akin to an idolized image of a warrior. Now, the freeman knows that the time to enact justice has finally come-- he draws his sword-- the blade sings--

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"Hark, hark!" Passersby would surely laugh at the scene, witnessing Ini on the run from punitive Lilah. Her knifestrikes were lightningfast; the Assailant, suddenly the Assailed. "Quiet," said she. "Enemies to the Consulate will die." Ini made a bold move, shouldering the Imp off and throwing up his hands. "Halt! This struggle is pointless, for we come to free-" Alack, the ploy was unsuccessful-- Lilah's knife met his throat. In that moment Ini may well have met his end, if not for her abrupt realization of her foolishness: "Pardon my programming. If ye would remove me from this hellish place, then I submit." Who is this she-devil? He puzzled. Only moments later, she was rope-bound, and Ini led her away from the scene of action... The officer still slumbered as motionless as stone.

Air parts-- armor is cloven by whistling steel-- as a body hits the floor.

Komas still stands, having defeated his armored opponent in a swift moment. The last sentry upright is the apprentice guard, who trembles at Komas' weathered sword. "I shall not shame thy trepidation," The freeman says, "For this doubtlessly is thy first combat." "Clod!" The apprentice cries, and swings again at the invader-- Komas parries deftly, sending the sword scuttering across the floor. As he bends to grab it, Komas knocks the guard flat against cold tile.

"You are luckier than you know. I have been shown mercy, and I pass it unto ye." As a grave declaration begins, Komas' accomplices reassemble to bear witness. "Your luck yet persists, as an Imperial title shields your life. But it is of no consequence, for if you expired, none would survive to report this act of justice!" The guard shouted in bewilderment, "Justice?!"

"Aye. Thrice I have visited the Consulate, and twice you imprisoned me, beat me, and humiliated me for actions not my own. Does this resemble justice to you?" In response, the guard mutters, "Thou Urd-devils--" "Speak not of my people; too my family," Komas interrupts. Now, Ini and the others evacuate the Consulate, streaming down through the lobby and past their leader. They wish not to run afoul of more trouble, yet Komas stubbornly remains.

The Just and the Unjust are soon alone, and the rant continues ever on-- high and mighty declarations of morals-- Komas is so immersed in this monologue-- that he is unaware of his victims rising from the floor. Then, "Thou!"-- A voice booms-- Boots pound against the floor apace-- Komas turns and thrusts his blade upon instinct-- And it finds itself stuck clear through the officer's chest.

***

Finally, in the dead night, the perpetrators of the sacking reconvened at their base of operations. Or, four perpetrators, and one hostage, as it were. "Say, I owe you odd fellows," Lilah admitted as her rope was unbound. She introduced herself, warily, as if to avoid revealing more than necessary. "Lilah," Ini spoke, "We welcome you to stay with our family, if it suits ye. Or, if the burden of criminality feels overwhelming, it may be possible to flee the city walls afore word spreads." She is anxious, Ini thinks. Could it be that she finds our group disconcerting? Or, has Komas' fervor frightened her? "If only escaping this damnable Empire was so cut-and-dried," she remarked. All her saviors sighed in agreement. "It has been our far-flung goal for months," one replied, most hopelessly. "But, our faith is with Komas. He has promised to assist our people..."

Lilah could not make heads or tails of this Komas wight. While the family spoke of him with evident reverence, his tirade struck Lilah as somewhat disturbed. And who would be so foolish as to lay siege to the Empire? "Lilah, wherever you go hence, be it near or abroad, I must ask ye first produce the spoils," Ini requested. "Ah, how could I forget?" Opening a receptacle nestled under her wing, she withdrew a multitude of Imperial papers- "What wouldst you like to see? Prisoner records, notices of policy, or classified documents...?"

Through evening's waning hours, the five, awaiting their leader's return, inspected the documents Lilah had produced: The notices of policy were largely unimportant, menial things, while the classified documents garnered increased consideration... Finally were the records of prisoners, and Ini swiftly dug through recent holdings, until... "Here, here!" He had found the full profile of Komas. On the page were his features, his service history, and, above all, a label: "DESERTER." Opposite was a list of known relations, including a profile on his kin and, shockingly, their last-known whereabouts.

***

The moon crests, blood sleeps soundly, and you are nowhere to be found, Ini reflected inwardly. However young our friendship, I will not hesitate to call ye a member of our tribe. Thus, I wish for only the best for you-- Please, return safely! I hope you have not been captured, or, the unspeakable-- Slain. For if any died today by our hands, I would not hesitate to bear the full responsibility. Ini looked on high, unaware of the tragedy which he but narrowly avoided. Why do ye tarry about? Return to us, already-- Oh, I shouldn't be selfish; Come home for your own sake! I know that you wouldst regret not witnessing these fruitful documents, and not learning that precious family is nigh at hand!