Hydaelyn Role-Players

The two folders sat next to each other, thin and ominous, on the large solitary desk that dominated the room.

The two men sat across from each other, sergeant and commander, neither meeting the other's eyes.

Swift's office was as well-kept and sparsely decorated as ever, and the man in the uniform resembled his chambers: not a speck of dirt on his overcoat, not a splatting of ink on his gloves. Melkire, on the other hand, was not well-kept. He'd worn his old leathers to this debriefing, not the browns of his problem-solving youth but the red and black of his time spent in Thanalan, and they were thoroughly worn and torn. They still sported the long-since crusted grime from all the scuffles and tussles, brawls and battles, that had muddied them. He'd thought it appropriate, to don these rags as a gesture to the commander, a gesture that served as a reminder that he was now as he'd been back then: a soldier. Someone who served.

Dirty work needed dirty men.

"So," he muttered. "This ain't about the company, is it."

"No," the commander answered as he leaned back in his chair and waved a hand out over the folders. "This is about you. I take it you've spoken with Korofi."

"Told me you had him decommissioned. That Kahn'a's been reassigned or somethin'. That the Dauntless are bein' let go."

Swift scowled as he pushed himself upright and out of his chair. He sauntered over to one of his bookcases and drew from it a single large binder. He opened it and began flipping through the contents as he circled the room.

"To be honest with you, Sergeant, though the unit's service record is more or less exemplary, especially with our fellow Grand Companies, the degree and frequency of... irregularities... have raised concerns. Allegations have been levied, inquiries made, and though you've won the respect of many here in the Hall, we have not been able to field them all adequately enough to alleviate those concerns."

Melkire lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. "You're jokin'. We're too irregular for the irregulars?"

"Two counts of misallocation of funds," read off the commander as he paced his office. "Three counts of absence without leave, and far too many requests for temporary leave to count. The issue is not your performance. The Dauntless always deliver. The issue is that you're never here, and that many within the ranks and without, the Syndicate included, believe you to be a waste of Grand Company funds. Your presence within Ul'dah has always been sporadic at best, and given the recent incident - congratulations on finding them, Sergeant, I am glad to know they are safe and sound - you've not been in Thanalan at all as of late."

Swift slammed the binder shut and dropped it on the corner of his desk. He sat down again, this time with the weight and weariness of the man in charge of the most insane and reckless men and women of the age. Osric's fellow midlander sighed.

"I understand your reasons for the sojourn north, and I applaud your support of the causes you so sordidly listed as justification for taking the Dauntless to Ishgard. Closer relations with the Holy See would serve us well. An alliance with any of the Great Houses would be a boon. Eyes and ears in the region, with the Empire so close... also an advantage. And yet the harsh reality is that you and yours are far too free-spirited for those in command to feel... comfortable... owning your leash."

Swift waved a hand.

"Officially, your unit is dissolved. Unofficially, the Dauntless will continue. You would anyroad. The difference is that yours will not be Foreign Brigade, yours will be a free company. Our servicemen may continue to serve with the Dauntless, should they so choose, though there remains the need for a liason. Which, ultimately brings us back to--"

"Me," Osric growled.

"You. I won't lie to you, Sergeant. Your past has caught up with you, deeds and misdeeds both, while you've been away. An investigation into your conduct was launched by the Brass Blades shortly after you took your leave." The commander shrugged. "Private Kokojo has been rather tenacious in chasing down any and all leads."

The sergeant's head snapped up and his eyes finally snapped onto Swift's. "Kokojo...? She...?"

"Resigned and took up with the Blades, yes. You ought to hear her speak of you these suns. Furious, disappointed... but faithful. For all she's discovered that condemns you, she's insisted on going farther than duty calls for. To find out why you've done as you have, I imagine."

The younger man eyed Swift warily. "Which is... what?"

"You stand charged with the murder of four Ul'dahn merchant-nobles, Monetarists all. Mumuqaru, Rezhenne, Quillburn... and one Jameson Taeros, with whom you are known to have associated with on Grand Company business."

Osric couldn't help but stare. "Court-martial. I'm bein' court-martialed... then why haven't I been detained?"

The commander gave him a small smile. "Because Lieutenant Peak pled your case on your behalf. Took it through the Hall, took it to the Syndicate. You were contracted, you see, not commissioned, and the terms of your contract were very clear. The General made sure of that, back when you were granted sanctuary and we took you in. I should know; I was there, and he came to me for assistance in that regard. Peak was a witness to those terms, and he remembers them as well as I do. The sultana's exact words were these: that you were to serve a sun for each sun that you'd stolen, a moon for each moon that your victim's families went without their loves ones, one cycle in service of life for each cycle in service of death. The Maelstrom had you on record as active for six cycles. We're coming up on that number now. Six cycles you've spent with the Immortal Flames, safeguarding the peoples of this city through dealing death. Peak remembered. Peak fought for you."

"...ought to thank him, then. So... what'd that...?"

"Get you? A choice." Swift straightened and laid his hands atop his desk. "These folders represent that choice."

The man reached out and pushed the folder on Osric's right closer to him. "Inside, you'll find a single sheet. A confession, officially stating that you, the signatory, were responsible for these murders, that you believe to have possessed just cause, and that you will make reparations, not only to the bereaved families but to the wealth and welfare of Ul'dah. You will be enlisted for life. You will be assigned as liason to the Dauntless, for so long as they are active or until such time as they disband and you are reassigned. Your pay will go towards the aforementioned families, and you will live on rations. You will never leave Thanalan again, so long as you live."

The sergeant swallowed as he glared at the folder. His vision swam with tears. "This... this is a sentence. A death sentence. This ain't servitude, this is slavery. Why would Peak...?"

"This is the best the lieutenant could get you, Sergeant. I'm sorry."

He stared for a moment longer... and then he glanced over to the other folder. The folder on his left.

"You said I had a choice."

"It is... not a good choice, Osric."

"What choice, ser?"

The commander shifted uncomfortably, then pushed the other folder closer. "Inside, you'll find a single sheet. A confession, in which you disavow any and all guilt for the deaths of the aforementioned nobles. You will be detained, and the court-martial will proceed pending further investigation, so that the prosecution might have time sufficient to build their case. You will be tried under a full military tribunal. At best, you will be dishonorably discharged. At worst, you will be hung... as a traitor."

In. Out. In. Out. Each breath seemed a lifetime... but the pressure that had threatened to constrict his lungs was lifting. "Discharged."

"Yes."

"But... I'll be free."

Swift raised an eyebrow.

"Free. A free man, as I once was, aye?"

"Sergeant... in all likelihood, you will be found guilty. Even if you are not, Lord Lolorito is... not pleased with you, to put it diplomatically. I won't be able to shield you any longer. Not I, not the General, not the sultana herself. You'll be alone, without aegis."

Osric Melkire's eyes danced back and forth between the two folders. He thought. He weighed his future.

When he came to, Swift was patting him on one shoulder. "Take your time. Show yourself out. You can take the folders with you. You've a sennight to come to a decision. In the meantime, don't try to leave Thanalan. You're under supervision."

The commander turned and made for the door, to give his soldier some much-needed time and space to himself, alone in a quiet, peaceful room. The Hyur paused in the doorway, and looked back at his sergeant, slumped as his subordinate was.

"Good luck, Osric. I am sorry that we could not do more for you."

"...all Scales find their Balance, ser. Thank you."

A long moment passed before the sergeant heard the door swing shut behind him.

As soon as the door to his home fell shut, the last drop he'd drained from his reservoir dried up, and the pain came rushing back. Osric staggered into the wall and slid down to the floor onto his knees. His right hand slapped down to support his weight as he retched and puked over the lobby floorboards.

Shite....

He'd been a fool, to call out Berrod like that. He'd been so desperate to measure up to his master, to test himself and prove to himself that he could be the sort of man that could safeguard his loved ones even without the resources of the Immortal Flames, that he'd lost sight of himself. He'd driven himself into a frenzy. He'd taken all of his fear and anger with him to the Ruins of Sil'Dih... to throw every erg of aether he could draw from his chakra at the monk he aspired to surpass.

Berrod Armstrong, who'd been at this for far longer than he had. Berrod Armstrong, whom he still could not match.

Would like as not never match.

The broken bones of his left arm shifted, sending a jolt of crackling agony tearing through his already-flaring nerves. He curled up into a little ball and shrieked, his voice ringing in his ears as it carried through the house.

The pain was just one more reminder of his folly. Forget the idiocy in trying to match Armstrong for power; why in the seven hells had he tried to stand his ground against a killing blow? He ought to have never tried. Three times, he'd seen Berrod draw forth his signature, those blue tendrils that surged and sparked up and down the man's arm... but he'd never borne the brunt
before. Not like this. Once, the highlander had pulled his punch; that and Osric's first lesson from Endemerrin, that display of hardened skin and flesh and bone, had been all that had saved the midlander. Later, he'd taken Berrod by surprise, dropped the big man before that power was brought to bear. This time, though... this time....

"You can't catch lightnin', hoss."

Here, now, he lifted his head and laughed, a wretched sound wracked by coughs. Blood shone on his teeth and dribbled down his chin as he grinned.

Just watch me, bastard. Just you ruttin' WATCH me.

"The thirds," he muttered aloud. "I need... the thirds...."

For now, though, he needed help. Berrod had thrown Osric over his shoulders and carried the small man home when it became evident that no one was on call, that their respective healers weren't coming for them anytime soon. Healing. He needed healing.

Die tryin', eh? Idiot.

No one was home. They'd have surely heard him by now and come to the rescue, as it were. No one was home.

Bed. I need t'get t'bed. Kanaria... she'll find me. She always finds me.

He should've trusted Mikh'a. He should've believed in himself. Berrod had told him as much, just now.

"Yer a monk, Osric. You don't answer ta anybody but God. An' if they try, destroy 'em. S'that simple."

That recognition, from a man he admired... that faith, that he'd forgotten these past few nights... when he heard those words, he'd known. He'd known that he'd erred, that he'd allowed this latest blow to morale to dishevel and unhinge him. He was better than that.

But first, there was the small matter of reaching his room with just one good arm when he lacked the strength to stand.

He forced himself upright, crawled as best he could by dragging himself along the floorboards, and slammed his hand down against the lip of the lobby desk, caught the edge and hauled himself towards the hall that led to the private chambers of the Dauntless. Each moment spent in movement was a moment spent in gut-wrenching pain... but the pain was worth it. The pain was a reminder of what he wanted. What he finally knew he wanted. What he'd known from the moment he'd left Swift's office.

I'm done with leashes.

"You're certain that this is what you want."

"Aye."

"...very well."

Flame Commander Swift nodded to the men flanking Chief Flame Sergeant Melkire. Those soldiers stepped forward and each took up an arm, securing the midlander between them.

"Osric Melkire. You are hereby placed under arrest for suspicion of murder and attempted murder. For these alleged crimes, you face a court martial, time and sun to be arranged. Owing to recent concerns over security within the Immortal Flames, as well as out of respect for your tenuous position and standing with certain elements of the Brass Blades, you will be handed over to the Sultansworn forthwith and held within the palace gaol, for your own safety as well as our own."

The doors at the far end of the commander's office swung open.

"Take him away. For Coin and Country."

Evangeline’s face appeared suddenly in front of the bars.

“IT’S TODAY?” she yelled, as a Sultansworn Guard vainly tried to chase her down. “TODAY?!” she yelled again. “You think that might not have been IMPORTANT TO MENTION?”

She turned to the guard. “Open the damn door before I blow it open, I’m going to speak to my client.”

Osric winced, one hand flying up to his forehead as he pushed himself upright off the cot to a seated position facing the hallway. “Ruttin’ hells, don’t look at me, the swivin’ bastards said the trial was pendin’ further investigation. Seems they’d rather hang me as soon as possible.”

The guard grumbled as he pushed Evangeline aside, fetched the key from his keyring, and opened the door to the cell. Evangeline pushed past him with a curt nod, clutching a briefcase and a bundle of papers.

“Someone must really hate you, Sergeant,” she grumbled, before turning to the guard. “Get me a table, or a cart or something! Before I get annoyed.”

She turned back to Osric. “We don’t have much time, but it’s not hopeless.” She handed him a newspaper, “As you can see, either a dead man is getting married, or we’ve already cleared a fourth of this.”

The midlander took the paper from her with a grunt and tossed it aside onto the cot. “If he’s written to the Hall, then….” He glanced up at the guard with a frown. The Sultansworn rolled his eyes and turned to walk back down the cell block.

“MARKUS!” came the call, “GET THE BARRISTER BITCH A TABLE!”

Evangeline seemed smug at that, as if pleased that the man had at least acknowledged her credentials.

The sergeant snorted. “If he’s written home, then that fourth ain’t cleared, it’s CONFIRMED. Which… isn’t good.” He swallowed audibly. “I was hopin’ we’d have more time. Was hopin’ we could get some, what the hells do they call ‘em, character witnesses. I know plenty o’ folks for that… but they came in this morn ‘n’ told me it’s this very sun.” He eyed Eva. He looked terrified. “I don’t see a way out.”

The woman turned back to Osric, clucking her tongue, “Oh, but you are not thinking, Sergeant, perhaps the time in here has dulled your mind. This speed betrays their desperation. In truth they do not have much of a case, which is why they are so eager to push this verdict through before you can build a defense. They are worried, Osric.” She smiled. “But I am not. Well not much anyway.” She coughed. “First, tell me of these four, some were killed by poison, yes? Others with a blade? I think I have their autopsies somewhere….”

She ruffled through the papers. The sergeant nodded and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He leaned back against the far wall and stared up at the ceiling in thought. “One by poison. One gutted. The last had his throat slit.”

“And one married?”

‘I don’t know all the particulars, Miss Primrose. I didn’t commit these murders.”

The Elezen nodded. “Then I suppose that will have to do. Do you have alibis of any sort? These charges are quite nebulous.” She shook her head, “It is clear they did not expect you to fight them.” She grinned rakishly ,”But you are tired of being chained, I think. A dog can only be beaten so long before it chews through its ropes.”

“The chain, I wouldn’t mind so much… if it weren’t for them yankin’ on the gods-damned leash.” He looked back down at her and rolled a wrist. “Alibis. Ain’t ever met or been seen with a one o’ them gents, though I suppose that ain’t any good in court. Was off with the company on more’n one assignment that took us out o’ Thanalan. That one for the Adders, the Deepcroft investigation, that sticks out. Was also attendin’ the Grindstone often; Master Armstrong can attest to that. I’m… afraid I didn’t spend much time in the city back then. No, errr, neutral individuals who can claim t’have been with me at the time.” He blinked. “Piss, I don’t even know when these men died.”

She exhaled. “Then we shall have to see what evidence they have. I’ve brought your service record, the autopsies, and some other relevant documentation. Whatever they assert, I can only hope that we shall have the ability to contest it.” She stretched. “Is there anything else Sergeant? Or are you ready to fight the Government?” She laughed.

He pursed his lips for a moment. “This assassin I’m supposed to have hired. The one they’re claimin’ I sicced on these men.” He paused as the silent guard from the night prior arrives at the cell with a long table and deposited it rather carelessly at the end of the hall. “For the barrister,” the small little blonde jeered.

Evangeline stuck her head out into the hallway, “A cart, not a table,” she growled, “and if it’s not here before the trial starts, I’m going to shove that table UP YOUR ARSE.”

"Markus" recoiled in shock and mutterd an apology before heading off in search of a cart. Obscenities spilled from his lips as he took his leave; “former public menace” was audible over the rattling of his chainmail.

The Elezen rubbed at a temple as she turned back to the sergeant. “I’ve been spending too much time with Klyn, you were saying?”

Osric smirked for the first time that morning as he watched the man leave. “They’re goin’ t’claim I hired him based on an incident last cycle. Was thrown in the Hall gaol with him. We shared a wall… and a gaol break.” He paused to scratch at the back of his neck. “I’d be one t’argue that’s a flimsy as shite piece o’ proof… but I don’t write the law. There anythin’ we can do to, errr, well….”

Evangeline tapped her cheek, “They are saying this person committed all three murders on your behalf?” She considered for a moment, “That could make our job easier or harder, though to start with it’s an improbable claim. You’re more than capable of having performed these murders yourself. Or so I am led to believe. We would need them to prove that not only did you hire someone else regardless, but you were so lazy as to hire the first person you met capable. They would also need to prove that money exchanged hands, and an agreement was made.” She shook her head, “Unless the man is there himself to testify, I doubt any reasonable argument can be made along those lines.” She cleared her throat. “If they do have testimony or proof in that regard though… it will make our task difficult indeed.”

The man suddenly groaned as he covered his face with both hands and flopped sideways onto the cot. “Twelves’ sakes… I forgot… there was some bastard goin’ round dressed as m’self a few moons prior, back when I was with the Red Wings. I was cleared on account o’ havin’ an alibi. Was away visitin’ Limsa Lominsa with Erik Mynhier. But… the sod who looked like me killed a man. A paladin. Sultana’s own ‘sworn. Name o’ Besten.”

Evangeline peeked her head out of the hallway to ensure the guard was still gone, then quickly opened up her briefcase and handed Osric a small shaving kit and a metal mirror. “Here, clean yourself up while he’s gone. It won’t help us if you look like a scruffy murderer.” The Elezen removed a slim flask of water from a pouch and added it to the pile. “In any case, they can’t charge you for past acquittals, and such a fact may even help us. If your impersonation is in the public record, it can throw doubt on any outlandish claims. After all, if it has happened once, it may do so again.”

Osric stared blankly at the kit, mirror, and flask for a moment, then straightened. “Hate shavin’ the beard. Folks never like it when I do.” He set to work.

She blinked. “Ah, you don’t have to shave it all. But to be honest you look like a man who’s had a restless guilty sleep. Cleaning it up a bit and washing your face will do wonders in the eyes of the court. You may even look like the hero of the Flames you’re supposed to be.” She grinned.

“Ain’t no hero, Eva… but thanks.” He spoke slowly as he ridded himself of his facial hair anyway. “There might be one witness to an alibi y’can round up in the few bells ‘til the trial, I think. Man goes by Rand, spends most of his time sulkin’ about near the Hall. Think he regrets ever havin’ joined the Blades instead o’ the Flames.” He grimaced, but the blade came free of his face without issue; no nicks or cuts. No blood. He reached for the flask again to wash. “Anyroad, Rand ‘n’ I spent a good deal o’ time lookin’ into an incident up at Nanawa. We saw a lot of each other in the followin’ sennights.”

Evangeline nodded. “I can do that. Any description? Tall, short? Hyur, Roe?” She took out a small pad and began writing. “And you may not see yourself as a hero, Sergeant, but if the Court sees you as such, it can’t but help our case. So be a dear and smile for crowd.”

Osric looked up as he gathered the kit, mirror and flask to give Evangeline his best grin. It was a rakish thing, debonair, more befitting a scoundrel than a gentleman. “That, I can do. Tall, highlander by his build. Disagreeable sort. Worse’n m’self, to be honest. We were workin’ a crime scene here ‘n’ there. The early suns o’ the Lazarov case.”

She closed the booklet. “I’ll get him there, somehow.” The Elezen slipped the shaving case back into her briefcase as she heard the rattling of a cart. “Was there anything else, or shall I meet you in the courtroom?”

The rattling grew louder as the cart came rolling past, unaccompanied, and slammed into the wall at the end of the hallway. Osric rolled his eyes. “Anythin’ more I could tell you like as not won’t do us a lick o’ good.”

She gathered up the papers and headed out. “Then we’ll just throw the dice. Seems to be something you’re good at.” Walking out of the cell, she approached the surly guard. “Women don’t like men with a temper.” She moved to pat his cheek on her way out of the gaol.

The surly guard blustered, then called out to his partner further down the cellblock, near the entrance to the gaol. “BRYANT! THIS IS WHY I’M THE QUIET ONE AND YOU HANDLE THE OFFICIALS, GODS DAMN YOU!”

The Elezen gulped down the coffee, her mug's constant travels leaving brown rings scattered across the desk.

"Ughhh! There isn't enough time." She growled, slamming the desk. "Maybe I should just blow him out of Gaol after all."

She huffed in frustration for a few more moments, before she began gathering up papers, "Fuck it."

"We'll do it live."

The courtroom. A Flame Marshal and a number of lieutenants were seated at the bench. The clerk was present, though the bailiff had yet to enter with the accused. The chamber, as spacious as it might have seemed, was conspicuously NOT empty. Kanaria was present, seated in the front row… and behind her, lining the benches, were a significant number of enlisted men.

Evangeline waited at the defendant’s table, already spreading out paperwork. Dressed in a suit and tie, for once the Elezen looked almost respectable as she waited for her client to be lead in.

The man seated at the prosecutor’s table was dressed in full regalia. The lieutenant seemed very put off by the Elezen woman. He fidgeted endlessly until, at last, Sergeant Melkire was led in.

Evangeline gave the prosecutor a wink before she stood and pulled out a chair for the Hyur, “Sergeant, how nice of you to join us. I almost thought you had decided to take a nap instead.”

“I’d need a good cushion for that, I tired o’ nappin’ on stone moons ago.” He eyed the prosecutor as he sat down… then cursed under his breath. To Eva, he whispered, “Thal’s Balls, that’s Lieutenant Dieter.”

She lowered her voice and leaned over, “Oh? Is he famous?”

“For bein’ a pompous arse, aye. Don’t know if he’s any good, Kanaria managed t’win over a tribunal with him arguin’ the other end.”

“Hmmmph.” Evangeline grinned, “You forget I’m from Ishgard, we invented pompousness. We’ll see how good he is.” She coughed, “I was able to find your man, by the way. Hopefully his testimony will be a boon, not a bane.”

Osric grunted his agreement as the lieutenant stood. “Sers, I would like to move that Miss Primrose be dismissed from this courtroom. The lady is on record for numerous counts of disturbing the peace, which to my knowledge are the least of her offenses. Why, I am not even certain that she is a certified barrister! Do not permit this trial to devolve into a farce.”

Evangeline rose primly, “Objection, Your Honors. The gentleman of the prosecution is not observing proper courtroom protocol.” She cleared her throat, “This is not a barroom, Ser, and the way to make yourself known is not by shouting.” She gave him a weak smile, “Perhaps it is not I who is turning this farcical.” She bowed to the judges, sat back down, and leaned over to Osric, “Judges eat shite like that up.”

The lieutenants on the bench quietly hid their smiles behind hands and folders as the Marshal leaned forward and cleared her throat. “Objection sustained. Motion to dismiss is, well, dismissed. If you would be so kind, Lieutenant.”

Osric turned wide eyes on Evangeline. “Is… is this normal?”

Evangeline stuck her tongue out at the Lieutenant, using a folder to block the view of the judges. “A courtroom is like a dance floor, Sergeant. Everything must be done at the proper time, with the proper beat.” She adjusted the documents, “They will use any stumble to judge you, so it’s important to keep up with the waltz.” She steepled her fingers, “If we can keep the Lieutenant on the wrong foot, our chances simply get better.”

Dieter cleared his own throat. “Very… very well.” The man stepped out from behind his table and all but paced across the room, lugging his portly frame with him. “To cut straight to the point: Chief Flame Sergeant Melkire stands accused of three counts of murder, assassinations all. Merchant-Nobles Rezhenne, Quillburn, and Mumuqaru are no longer with us.... and we owe that loss of life to the defendant. Sergeant Melkire is known to be possessed of a rather… rebellious… nature. Such is made evident by his service record. His enrollment into the Immortal Flames was irregular.  His service has been irregular. And now we have good cause to believe that he has broken both the spirit and the letter of his oath by turning vigilante. Private Haruko Kokojo of the Brass Blades was the lead investigator on the case against the good sergeant, and has been kind enough to provide substantial evidence. I pray that Your Honors will come to accept that any and all proofs brought before you today -- be they solid, circumstantial, or otherwise -- paint a very clear picture: that Chief Flame Sergeant Melkire had these men assassinated, just as he would have assassinated their peer, Jameson Taeros. We have lost one too many sons of Ul’dah to this criminal-turned-soldier. Pray, let us keep that body count from rising any further.” With that, Dieter turned back to his table and seated himself.

Evangeline spoke up. “May I make my opening statement now?”

The Marshal blinked. “You may.”

Evangeline stood, moving from the table and pacing back and forth for a moment. “The Lieutenant is not wrong.” She said finally, “The Sergeant’s career has been irregular. He is an irregular man, with an irregular career.” She turned to face the judges, “But are these not irregular times? When I was born, the Garleans were not on the continent, Ala Mhigo was free, and the Primals were but a distant memory. Dragons did not perch at our doorsteps, and armies did not nip at our borders. What man could live a regular life in such times, if he were to serve his city well?” She gestured to Osric, “The Sergeant is many things, a Soldier, a Leader, a Fighter. Even a Father.” She turned to the Lieutenant, “But what he is not, is a traitor to his city.” The elezen cleared her throat, “I contend to this court, that the evidence in this case will not point to Sergeant Osric Melkire as being guilty in this case, and more so!” She glared at the Lieutenant, “Will cast doubt on the motives of those who have even brought such spurious charges in front of this High court. The man accused is one with every chance to flee, to take a new life elsewhere, but he has remained to face this charge. Why?” She crossed her arms, “Because he is innocent, and he knows he has nothing to fear, so long as justice is served this day.” At that the Elezen moved back behind the table, “The Defense yields the floor.”

Osric swallowed and fidgeted in his seat as Evangeline proclaimed his innocence. Dieter stood as the Marshall spoke, “The Plaintiff may move on to witnesses.”

“Your Honors,” Dieter proclaimed, “I call Haruko Kokojo to the stand.”

There was a noticeable commotion in the audience as the small woman was led in by a deputy. The accused tensed as his former subordinate took her seat, having not once made eye contact with the man she’s worked so hard to condemn.

Evangeline leaned over, “Stop fidgeting.” She muttered, “And make her look you in the eye. Back straight. It’s hard to speak ill of someone with them staring calmly at you.”

Osric ceased as Evangeline spoke, then complied. Haruko finally met his eyes from across the courtroom. There was pain in the little private’s gaze… pain, and anger.

“Private,” Dieter began, “would you please state for the record when, where, how, and by whom you were brought onto the case? Oh, and please do not forget your full rank, title, and background,” he observed as he turned a sly grin on Primrose. “Not all of us can be trusted to have looked into your own service record, to have familiarized ourselves with all aspects of this case… nor can we blame anyone for a faulty memory.”

Kokojo cleared her throat. “I am Private Haruko Kokojo, of the Brass Blades of the Lily. In truth, I was but recently a corporal of the Immortal Flames. That would have been a few moons ago, give or take. Prior to my transfer to the Blades of the Lily, I was working under Broken Nose. He assigned me to this case after he was notified that the Monetarist associates -- they were well known as friends to one another - were falling one by one to the handiwork of a singular assassin.”

“And where, pray tell, did your invesigation lead?”

“To a survivor, ser, a man by name of Gideon North. A valet, if I understand such matters correctly, who was once employed by Jameson Taeros.”

“And what did this Gideon North tell you?”

“I do not believe he cared to share much with me at all, not at first. That said, there were notable discrepancies between his testimony and the report he filed with the local station. I sought him out a second time. Further questioning revealed that his assailant was smaller than he, possessed of skill with fist and steel.”

“Did Mister North identify this assailant?”

“No, ser, he did not.”

“Was this assailant identified over the course of your investigation?”

“Yes, ser. I made it a point to delve into Gideon North’s recent activities. He revealed to me that he had, moons prior, made the acquaintance of an unusual Miqo’te male, by name of Yuko.” Haruko glanced away from Dieter to meet Osric’s eyes once more. “The name stood out. I’d heard it before, not a cycle past… when my former sergeant, the accused was led to the Hall gaols alongside one Blizzard Yuko after a failed assassination attempt on the sultana herself.”

The mutterings of the audience suddenly rose in volume. Dieter turned to glare out over the crowd, which fell silent once more.

“Did the descriptions of these two men match?”

“Yes, ser. Gideon North described the male adequately. Short, white hair, possessed of a particular taste in apparel. That description is on record with the Immortal Flames as that of the same male who broke into the palace alongside Osric Melkire.”

Evangeline could be seen writing notes as the testimony continued.

“Was this man ever taken into custody during the course of your investigation?”

“No, ser. He has eluded us to this very sun.”

“Very well, Private, very well. Did you happen upon any further leads?”

“Ser Coatleque Crofte, of Her Majesty’s Sultansworn, came to me one sun with a suggestion. She told me that if I wanted answers, I had best seek them out at the home of the Dauntless.”

Dieter cleared his throat as he strode to his table and lifted a folder from it. “If I may, Your Honors, the relevant paperwork and personnel files identifying the Dauntless as, up until last sennight, a Grand Company unit under the Foreign Brigade of the Immortal Flames. If I may approach the bench?”

The Marshal idly waved a hand before she answered, “You may.”

Osric took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his face as he observed. He glanced at Evangeline for a brief moment.

She reached under the table and gave his arm a squeeze, nodding slightly.

As the judges reviewed the papers, the Marshall gave the prosecutor the go-ahead to proceed. Dieter turned back to Haruko.

“Private, what did you find by pursuing this lead?”

“Nothing at first. I was barred from entry by their doorman -- curiously, a distant relative of Lord Mumuqaru himself -- and told that I had to await word from the company’s lieutenant, one Mikh’a Korofi.” Haruko paused and glanced about. “May I have some water?”

Dieter turned and opened his arms in Evangeline’s general direction, as if to ask whether she has any objections.

Evangeline nodded, “By all means, who would I be to deprive one of Ul’dah’s defenders from sustenance?” She cleared her throat, “Such honest and straightforward testimony can only lead us to the truth, please Private, continue.”

The bailiff signaled to one of his deputies, who in short order returned with a glass. Her thirst quenched, Haruko nodded. “Thank you.”

“But of course," rumbled Dieter. "Private, did Mikh’a Korofi ever contact you?”

“No, ser. The truth is that I did not once manage to have words with any of the company’s men or women. So I took initiative.”

“What initiative did you take, Private?”

“I went through records, ser. Had their mail searched. Looked through their books.”

“Objection!” Evangeline raised her hands, “Were such acts undertaken legally? Evidence obtained by illegal means would be inadmissible…”

“Objection sustained. Private, did you have warrants for such search and seizure?”

“I did, Your Honor. I took my case to Broken Nose. Given that the investigation was seeking justice for the deaths of three innocent men, my request was granted. I took the warrants to Commander Swift himself, then to the company’s doorman. No officer stepped forward to object.”

Dieter glanced at Evangeline once more.

The Elezen nodded, “Thank you.” before seating herself.

“What did you find in your search, Private?”

“Fifty thousand gil, posted once a moon for nine straight moons to an abandoned address in Limsa Lominsa. To the accused’s mother, supposedly.”

Osric schooled his face as best he could and stared at the defense’s table.

“You have doubts regarding the intended recipient, Private?”

“Leading the witness…” Evangeline muttered. Osric spared her a pleading glance.

“I do.”

“Who do you believe this coin was sent to?”

Haruko looked straight at Osric. “The assassin responsible for the murders of Rezhenne, Quillburn, and Mumuqaru. Blizzard Yuko.

Dieter turned to the bench, “No further questions, Your Honors,” then headed for his seat.

Evangeline placed her hands on the desk and slowly rose, “Private, you said you believe the Sergeant paid an assassin to kill the victims of this case. Is that true?”

“It is.”

She nodded, “So you thoroughly investigated this silver haired man, found every person who might have been in his company, and narrowed them down until you were confident.” She paused on that word, “Absolutely sure, that the Sergeant, out of all the people this assassin might have known or associated with; That only the only person who could have hired him, was the accused. Is that correct?”

The small woman frowned at Evangeline. “I am confident that I have identified the most likely employer of the assassin.”

“That is not what I asked, private. Answer the question. Did you thoroughly investigate every possible associate of this man with the same thoroughness you did the accused?”

“The male has few known associates, ma’am. Gideon North was questioned quite thoroughly. One Brynnalia Callae--”

Evangeline cut the woman off, “A yes or no will suffice, private.”

Haruko narrowed her eyes. “No.”

“Thank you.” She nodded, “So is it fair to say, that there could be another acquaintance of this assassin, one that you are either unaware of, or did not thoroughly investigate, that could have an equal or greater body of evidence against them?”

“No, that is not fair to say.”

Evangeline tilted her head, “Oh? I thought you just said that you have not investigated every possible lead with the same fervor that you have the sergeant.” She tapped her cheek, “Can you perhaps, divine the unknown? Do you have skill in Astrology?”

“Objection!” interjected Dieter. “Badgering the witness!”

“Overruled,” The Flame Marshal barked, watching with amused eyes. “You may continue with this line of questioning.” She nodded at the Blade, “Private, answer the question.”

“No,” Kokojo grumbled, “I cannot and have not.”

“So then, if you do not know the full body of evidence for others.” Evangeline cleared her throat, “How can you be sure the case against the Sergeant is the strongest? After all, a man’s life is at stake.” She smiled at her, “This is no time for guessing.”

“Because, ma’am,” Haruko finally explained, with no small measure of relief at being allowed to speak at last, “I consulted with each and every Blade who would give me their time, I visited each and every shop and stall and emporium and Byregot knows what else, questioned the owners, over the course of my investigation. I have scoured the city up and down and concluded that the only three associates known to Blizzard Yuko were Gideon North, a woman by name of Brynnalia Callae, and Osric Melkire himself. The assassin is an unknown quantity here in the Jewel, ma’am. No, I have not asked everyone. But I feel confident that I have asked enough.”

Evangeline smiled, reading back from the transcript, “I have scoured the city up and down.” she
tilted her head, “By this city, you mean Ul’dah, correct?”

Haruko raised an eyebrow in confusion… and consternation. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“You accuse my client of sending money to this assassin through the city of Limsa Lominsa, is that also correct?”

‘Yes, ma’am.”

“You already think this man works in multiple cities, how are you so confident you understand him after merely looking at one?”

The Lalafell closed her eyes. “My jurisdiction does not reach as far as Limsa Lominsa.”

“So you do not know what might have gone on outside this city? Is that correct?”

Haruko opened her eyes and glared at Dieter. “Yes, that’s correct. My investigation is still pending.” Her tone was full of ire.

“Yet this trial is not.” Evangeline nodded, “So we shall have to proceed with what we have.” She cleared her throat, “Is it possible then, that another party hired this assassin, but it was merely done outside the scope of your investigation?”

The little lady opened her mouth as if to speak, then hesitated. She looked to Osric once more. Her next words were soft and low, reaching only the bench and Evangeline herself. “I hope so.”

Evangeline smiled warmly, “Yes or no will do.”

“Yes,” voiced the Brass Blade aloud.

Evangeline nodded, “As Limsa Lominsa is out of your jurisdiction, was any investigation done one scene at the address the Sergeant’s money was being sent to? Was there a stakeout? Shadowy figures seen taking the money?”

Haruko perked up and straightened in her seat. She snuck a triumphant leer at Dieter before she answered. “I have associates within the Yellowjackets that were made known to me by the accused himself, back when I was his acting corporal. I contacted them and they looked into the address. There was a single parcel of coin. Fifty thousand. There was a stakeout. No figures were seen. No one appeared to collect.”

Evangeline nodded, “So what basis is there to suspect this was coin for an assassination, rather than any of the other myriad reasons to send coin? Was there a contract enclosed? A hit list?”

Kokojo looked crestfallen at the next series of questions. “The accused’s mother is known to have relocated to Gridania some half dozen moons past.”

“That is not the question I asked, Private. A man’s life is at stake. Why must this have been coin for assassination?”

“...circumstance, ma’am, by way of known association.”

Dieter rose from his seat. “Objection! I object!”

The Marshal shook her head, “On what grounds?”

Dieter looked lost. “...ahhhh--”

The Marshall nodded, “Overruled, the defense may continue.”

Evangeline exhaled, “So then, is it fair to say you have no proof, that solidly links these payments to an assassination, as opposed to say…” Evangeline gave a sad look to the court, “A guilty and forgetful son?”

Osric, struggling very, very hard not to burst into laughter, lowered his head until his forehead rested on the table. To everyone in the courtroom, he merely appeared contrite.

Haruko smiled faintly. “Yes, that is fair to say.”

Evangeline bowed, “Thank you for your time, private.” She returned to the table and rubbed Osric’s back comfortingly, “The defense rests.”

Haruko sighed with relief as she descended from the stand and found herself escorted out of the room by the bailiff’s deputy.

The Marshal turned to regard Dieter. “The prosecution may call their next witness.”

Osric turned to Evangeline and whispered, “That was amazin’, barrister. Think the rest’ll go as smoothly?”

Evangeline looked as smug as an Elezen can look. Which is incredibly smug. “They likely started off with their best witness, hoping to color the mind of the bench for those to come. Without that momentum, I think the rest of their roster will seem paltry indeed.”

“The defense rests.”

Jenlyns Straightblade stepped down from the stand and was led out of the room.

Dieter was sweating profusely as he turned to the bench. “No further witnesses, Your Honors.”

Evangeline rose, “The defense calls Mikh’a Korofi to the stand.”

Mikh’a inhaled as he stood and made his way forward. He had been pretty good about keeping his opinions and outbursts to himself ( a feat, truly, he wasn’t very good at holding his temper when he was really angry and this whole thing had him in fits ) this entire time and would have to continue to do so. The Miqo’te did not look at either Osric or Evangeline, though he did pay a glance to Kanaria as he passed by her. Turning to take his place on the stand, those spotted ears flexed back a little bit and he nodded to Evangeline, as if to say, 'Alright chief, ready when you are.'

Evangeline nodded ,”Thank you Ser. Could you introduce yourself, your position at the Dauntless, and your relation to Sergeant Melkire?”

“My name is Mikh’a Korofi.” he leveled his gaze straight to Evangeline. “I am the current leader of the Dauntless - for a short time I was Sergeant Melkire’s superior officer as well.. He was initially my mentor in pugilism but after my failure to actually pick up the craft we settled on colleagues and very close friends instead.”

Evangeline smiled, “Thank you. Now I won’t mince words. You seem to know the Sergeant well. Does he seem the type to murder men in cold blood? Whether by his own hand, or by paying another to do so?”

“Not at all.” Mikh’a shook his head. “In fact I’m fairly certain he’s paid someone off not to kill in the past though I couldn’t directly quote the date off the top of my head.” He tilted his head to the side and went on to add, “I did not know Osric more than a summer ago, though I can firmly say in the time that I have known him he has shown no want to do harm to anyone under any condition whatsoever, save for in self defense of his family, and even then men weren’t killed. As for his past… well, he’s got no more a shaded history than anyone else in the Immortal Flames as far as I’m aware.” And then he shrugged those thin shoulders.

“Have you ever heard him speak poorly of the victims in this case, or propose the death of monetarist nobles?”

“No.”

“Have you ever seen the Sergeant in the company of the assassin described?” Evangeline proceeded to repeat the description of the white haired man.

“No.” Mikh’a repeated evenly. “I’ve never seen him with a man even remotely matching that description.”

Evangeline nodded, “Is there any other information you would like to share with the court? Any fact pertinent to this case?”

“Would that I could restate the obvious.” Mikh’a finally looked at Osric then. “What Osric Melkire was ten summers ago should not be held against the man he has become today. He has given his time and a great deal of his life in service to the Flames. He’s done everything they’ve asked of him…” his gaze shifted to Dieter then. “And more. He’s come under fire several times by men with equally shaded pasts, who have likely done the same kinds of wrongs, if not worse, in their past… I’m sure I don’t need to remind anyone of the incident that led to the separation from our former company and the creation of the Dauntless to begin with. The Immortal Flames are made up of mercenaries, thieves, and former thugs gone right again. Who we were and what we’ve become are two different things. Osric is not a murderer, he did not murder those people, and while you waste time pointing fingers at a scapegoat the real murderer still roams free to do as he, or she, pleases.”

The Elezen cleared her throat, “Thank you Ser Korofi.” She adjusted her papers, “No further questions your Graces.”

Dieter harrumphed as he stood and circled around to stand before Mikh’a and the bench. “Master Korofi, if you’d be so kind, would you please state for the record your age, your birthplace, time spent in service with the Immortal Flames, and your role within the Dauntless?”

“Objection…” Evangeline raised her hand, “Relevance. A similar question was already asked.”

“Objection sustained. Prosecutor?”

“Hn. Master Korofi, age and birthplace, please, as well as your professed area of expertise?”

The Elezen nodded slowly, and did not raise an objection.

Mikh’a leveled his gaze on Dieter then and said, “I am eighteen summers old. I was born at the base of the mountains north of Gridania, the area was destroyed during the Calamity…” His ears lowered and he looked down at his hands in upset. “We lived in the tunnels.” And everyone knows what happened to the Keepers in the tunnels. He looked back up at the man again though and steeled himself, taking a deep breath. His expression was tragic, like he was visibly upset about his home. “I’m a full time doctor and a part time Engineer, though I suppose… nearly a full time Engineer anymore.”

Dieter nodded as he turned to pace back and forth across the courtroom, rolling his hands over each other as he went. “A doctor, you say. Might I ask what field? Traditional chirurgeon, arcanima, conjury....?”

"I've official training in traditional medicine as well as conjury. I've dabbled in arcanima but never went far." Mikh'a raised an eyebrow at Dieter and his tail twitched.

The pompous old fart came to a stop and raised a single finger into the air, as if raising a point. "Master Korofi, in your.... mmm... professional experience, does your training qualify you to evaluate the mental health of your patients?"

So this was your game, Dieter. The tiny calico inclined his head to the side and folded his hands in his lap. He considered for a nonce and then concluded, “To some degree. It’s the duty of any military doctor to be able to assess the mental well being of his people, and should he consider them ill fitted to do their job he’s to send them to seek counsel.” Mikh’a’s tail flicked and he gazed on at the man.

Dieter nodded and resumed pacing. "Of course, of course. Forgive me, you said you did not know the sergeant more than a summer ago. Am I correct in observing that you have known him for several moons at most? Less than a cycle?"

“Near a full cycle.” Mikh’a said while watching the man. HIs ears sank down on his head in thought and the Miqo’te says. “Not quite a full cycle, a moon shy.”

"And how often, during that time, have you found yourself working alongside this man, under stressful conditions? How frequently have you accompanied him on assignments?"

Mikh’a thought about this for a nonce, and then said, “Not every mission, but more than one and I’ve never seen him lose his cool or panic, or even take hasty action. It was Osric who kept us calm when we were being hunted and threatened with eradication by the Immortal Flames not ten moons back now. I was not there for every single one of his missions, but I wasn’t absent from all of them either and I was home for the aftermath of them.”

“Not there for every mission, then. Very well, very well. What of leave? Time off. The myriad bells not spent in service to the Immortal Flames. Early mornings. Evenings. Downtime, as it were. How often were you in the accused’s company…” Dieter turns and sweeps out a hand to take in the defense table, “...while not at headquarters?”

The calico gave Dieter a very strange look. “We spend as much time as two people that live together would normally spend, but he does have a mate, and they have a kit, and there’s more to his life than just---” he stopped.

Dieter raised a hand to forestall the calico. “Master Korofi, please answer the question. How often did you spend time with Sergeant Melkire beyond the walls of the Dauntless estate?”

He continued to squint at Dieter. He did answer. Mikh’a chewed on his thoughts for another nonce and then said, “Are you asking if we spend every waking moment together, Ser?”

“I am asking whether you are confident that you are well acquainted with the majority of the sergeant’s dealings, his associates, his routines. Are you?”

“Then say so next time.” he gives Dieter a baffled look. “Of course I’m not saying that.”

“Then, Master Korofi, I must ask. If you are not well acquainted with the man’s going-ons… is it possible that Chief Flame Sergeant Osric Melkire might have clandestine meetings with questionable individuals without your knowledge?”

Mikh’a gave Dieter a thin smile then. “I suppose if you want to twist things in that regard. If you so choose to demonize him in that way, then yes. In the same way that we do not know of your possible clandestine meetings with people of ill-repute, Osric may have his own as well.”

“Ahhhhh.” Dieter steepled his fingers as he faced Mikh’a. “Alas, I am not on trial. Osric Melkire is.” He turned and began pacing again. “Master Korofi, I have the most recent public records with me. Those of the Dauntless, that is. So that I may not need to bore Their Excellencies with tedious reading… were you absent for a period of approximately two moons not too long ago? An absence for which you were taken to--”

“Objection!” The Elezen rose, “The Lieutenant’s personal travels are not within the scope of this trial.”

“Sustained.”

Dieter grumbled, then resumed. “Master Korofi. Could Osric Melkire have met - repeatedly, perhaps - with the assassin Blizzard Yuko under circumstances which would have left you unawares?”

He tipped his head to the side and considered Dieter. It was obvious he didn’t understand why the man was saying what he was saying. “Like I said before.” Mikh’a says. “When you spew circumstantial assumptions of course there’s a chance.”

“Life is often full of circumstance, Master Korofi. Are you aware of the Hatalali Incident?”

Mikh’a squinted as he thought about it. “The mission the Dauntless went on?”

“This predates that mission. Predates the sergeant’s service with the Red Wings, in fact.”

“Objection your Graces, again, relevance.” Evangeline glared at Dieter.

The Flame Marshal rubs a temple, “Dismissed, But Lieutenant Dieter, you’ll need to show this knowledge is relevant to the case at hand.”

““Your Honors, Master Korofi, after four consecutive cycles of service with the Immortal Flames, Sergeant Melkire defied direct orders and slaughtered two score men and women within the depths of that dreadful place. Master Korofi, if the man has not shared his darkest secrets with you, how are you so confident that he has been a forthright, honest, law-upholding citizen and soldier of this state?”

“You are wrong, Ser.” Mikh’a said quietly. His gaze did not falter as he stared Dieter down then. “You assume Osric has not shared this information with me - I said nothing to indicate he had not, I merely asked if you were referring to a mission our company had been sent on by the Immortal Flames. I am aware of this incident, and it does not change my opinion of Osric in any capacity. Men do terrible things in their past, it does not make them incapable of change. To hold this against him for the rest of his days would be pointless, and to use this incident in an attempt to hang him here and now would mean you should need to dredge up every single Immortal Flame service record -- after all, if one man must be tried according to a long finished incident, so must all of them.”

Dieter turned to Mikh’a, his hands clenched tight into fists at his sides. “Master Korofi, I put to you that Osric Melkire is a repeat offender. Would you agree?”

Furrowing his brow Mikh’a said, “No.” very firmly. “I would not agree.”

“You would disagree despite the record?”

“I have agreed that one incident has occurred.” Mikh’a defended. “And I have agreed that somewhere at some time during some point there is a slim possibility that Osric went left when he should have gone right. I have not agreed to anything else.”

Evangeline raised her voice, “Your Graces, the Lieutenant is not on on trial for past matters.”

The Marshall shook her head, “No, but questions to determine character are admissible, this exchange will stay on the record.”

“No further questions, Your Honors,” interjected Dieter as he smirked and strode back to his table. “I believe I’ve made my point.”

Mikh’a watched Dieter retreat to his table, still baffled by the man’s reactions. As the Lieutenant sat down again, the calico turned his head to Evangeline and then the judging bodies expectantly.

Evangeline nodded to Osric, “The defense calls Sergeant Osric Melkire to the stand.”

The sergeant swallowed as a deputy helped Mikh’a down off the stand in time for the bailiff to lead the man himself up to the stand. He took a seat, rolled some tension out of his shoulders, and gave Eva his best grin. Sans shite-eating, of course; that wouldn’t have done for this crowd.

As Mikh’a retreated from the stand, he lingered while passing Dieter and lifted a small hand to rest it on his arm. “...I’m sorry.” he said quietly. “That you’re so angry. If you ever want to talk you can come to the house and have some cookies with me and talk… if you want.” And then he drifted past to take his seat again.

Dieter turned in his chair with wide eyes and stared. His lips quivered as though he were about to bark an obscenity… but the portly prosecutor mastered himself and turned back to the trial at hand.

The Elezen cleared her throat, “Sergeant Melkire, I believe we’re all eminently familiar with your record by now. As I do not wish to put the bench to sleep, I’ll refrain from going over the basics.” She smoothed down her coat. “Do you have any association with the white haired association who is presumed to have killed the victims in this trial?”

Osric threw back his head and chuckled. “I do.”

The crowd filled with murmurs, and the judges leaned forward along the bench. “Well then.” Evangeline nodded. “Could you explain to the court what that association consists of?”

“Under pain o’ death - that o’ m’self and m’wife, then m’fiance - I was commanded by Jin’li Epinoch t’attempt an assassination upon the sultana herself. A crime, I might add, that I’ve been pardoned for. Anyroad... to aid me in the endeavor, he assigned a number o’ fellow professionals t’me. One o’ those was a white hair by name o’ Blizzard Yuko. We tried, we failed, we were imprisoned together, we escaped together… ‘n’ then I threatened him. Told his arse t’flee Thanalan ‘n’ not return.”

Evangeline blanched at this retelling. An attempt on the sultana? Not only that, but he helped another assassin escape? She coughed nervously. “W-well… how long ago was that? Have you had any contact with him since?”

“A cycle ago, perhaps a tad more. Before I joined the Red Wings. I saw him once more a moon or so after the Lazarov case was closed.”

“And what was the nature of this meeting?”

“He wanted the coin he was owed.”

Evangeline could feel sweat trickling down her back. “W-why did you owe coin to an assassin?”

“Wasn’t I,” Osric explained with a wink. “Yuko came t’collect a debt he felt he was owed. Two million. From Epinoch.”

She sighed in relief, “The man who… forced you into this situation. Very well. Was that the extent of the meeting?”

“Aye. I gave him a paltry sum and turned him away”

Evangeline blinked. “Y-you paid him for attempting to kill the Sultana?”

“I paid him t’leave and never return, t’never work in the Jewel… or Thanalan… again.”

She nodded slowly, “Could you then explain, to the court, the packages you’ve been sending to Limsa?”

Osric opened his mouth and paused for a moment. “....ah. Those. Well. Um. They weren’t for my mother.”

Evangeline wondered if it might be better to let this one lie… if she doesn’t ask the question, though, Dieter would. “Who were they for, Sergeant?”

“...I owed a lass. A Keeper. She did me a favor once, but… it cost her. I cost her.... a lot. I was… makin’ amends.”

“Did this favor involve killing three men?”

“No. I merely wished t’know whether I was still on record with the Maelstrom as a convict. She has… had… connections. She asked around. She got me an answer. That was all.”

Evangeline sighed in relief, “Very well. So for the last, you had every chance to escape this situation Sergeant. Why did you remain for this trial?”

Osric had the grace… or lack thereof… to look surprised. “Was the right thing t’do.”

Evangeline smiled. “The right thing to do.” She nodded to the bench, “No further questions.”

The sergeant smiled back.

Dieter pushed himself to his feet and circled out from behind his desk. He stood, hands clasped behind his back, for a good long while in thought as he considered the man on the stand. At last, he grinned. His grin was that of a marine predator of the Sea of Ash, the hunger in his eyes that of a shark scenting blood in the water.

“Sergeant Melkire, are you familiar with Hammerlea, in western Thanalan?”

Osric’s smile faltered and died. “...aye.”

“And you are familiar with its three hammers, employed in the excavation of certain natural resources, yes?”

“Aye.”

“What is not well-known,” explained Dieter as he turned to fetch several copies of a report from his desk, “is that there was once a fourth hammer to the north. What is even less well-known is that beneath where it once stood is the opening to a rather long man-made tunnel dating back to the ancient civilization of Sil’Dh. Your Honors, if I may approach the bench?”

At the Marshal’s approving nod, the prosecutor handed over a number of copies before turning to approach the defense table and providing a copy for Primrose.

“Sergeant,” Dieter asked as he turned back to the stand, “are you familiar with this tunnel?”

“...aye.”

“For those not in the know, this tunnel was, until recently, classified. ’Tis yet another ancient ruin from Sil’Dih, I’m afraid, one that leads into our dear city proper. At least one point of egress,” Dieter looked pointedly at Melkire, “leads directly into the former manse of one Jameson Taeros.”

Osric’s expression was calm, cool, collected. He merely stared across the room at the prosecutor.

“The report you now hold, Your Honors, is but an excerpt of a larger, more complete report that encompasses the sum total of Private Kokojo’s investigation….”

The man on trial snuck a glance towards the audience where Kanaria was waiting. Their eyes met for a brief moment before the woman pursed her lips and shook her head, her eyes falling to the floor.

Damn.

When he’d agreed to take Jameson’s life in exchange for information vital to preventing an all-out massacre on Pearl Lane at the hands of Ernis Randolph and his revolutionaries, Osric had been counting on the inevitable correspondence from Nero Lazarov to help clear his own name in the event that his transgression ever saw the light of day. Though he’d allowed Ser Coatleque Crofte to make copies, he’d left the originals in Kanaria’s care, with explicit instructions to take them to Swift should the need ever arise. He’d hoped that, somehow, the Flames could spin it as a case where he’d acted for the greater good, that the commander and his staff could convince those on the Syndicate that the loss of one merchant-noble’s life was worth the saving of countless others.

Evidently, the Monetarists didn’t agree.

Halatali all over again. Who cares for the little folk when a businessman’s life and coin are on the line?

That the prosecutor was even pursuing this line of questioning - that he, the accused, was on trial not just for suspicion of assassination but for attempted murder - meant that Nero’s letters were worthless before the law. Ul’dah apparently valued its sons and their coin more than its own honor. He felt nauseous, as if he could feel bile slowly climbing up his throat.

“...you’ll find written testimony from one Private Hearn. who was stationed at the former site of the North Hammer on the sun in question and tasked with guarding the entrance to said tunnel. I say ‘written’,” Dieter sneered as he snuck a glance at Melkire, “because the man in question will never be able to speak again. Given the trauma he endured, we deemed his presence here today too strenuous to his health.”

The prosecutor paced up and down the courtroom again.

“In his testimony, Hearn describes being set upon by a small band of vigilantes, one of which matched a description he’d been given belonging to one Nero Lazarov. Hearn’s unit was slaughtered almost to a man; he owes his life solely to a timely communique by way of linkshell, an alert from his commanding officer that served to raise the alarm. The chirurgeons arrived in time to save Hearn’s life, but not his voice… nor his left leg.”

Dieter faced the bench.

“On the next page, Your Honors, you will find written testimony provided by Brynnalia Callae, a mercenary woman who was at the time under the employ of Jameson Taeros. In her testimony, Callae claims that Lord Taeros set out into the tunnel to apprehend these vigilantes, chief among them one Nero Lazarov. May I remind you that Lazarov was, and remains to this sun, a wanted man. Lord Taeros was taking upon himself the civic duty to apprehend such a criminal! And yet, upon making contact with the enemy, Callae notes that she heard her lord bellow the following words.”

The prosecutor’s eyes met the accused’s own.

“Melkire, where is Lazarov?”

Osric closed his eyes for a brief moment, took a deep breath… and then opened them again.

Mistake.

Too late. Far too late. He could tell from the horrified, wide-eyed look on Evangeline’s face. He hadn’t just blinked. No, he’d done something far worse. He’d given himself away.

As far as tells went, he’d given the courtroom Dalamud in the sky.

Dieter smiled at him. “Curious. Very, very curious. Your Honors, please note that in Hearn’s testimony, he claims the presence of four distinct vigilantes. Two Miqo’te women, a Keeper and a Seeker. One highlander male in heavy armor. One midlander matching the description of Nero Lazarov. And yet, according to Jameson Taeros by recollection of Brynnalia Callae, Lazarov was not present… Melkire was.”

The prosecutor approached the stand, hands folded behind his back, chest thrust up and out as though he were a rooster. Confident in his victory, the man apparently could not help but strut.

“Sergeant Osric Melkire, were you present in that tunnel on the night in question?”

He has me.

Fear surged up his spine… but something caught it by the tail and dragged it back down before it could lodge itself in his throat. Something fed it to his gut, fed it to his fire.

Minimize the damage.

Find a way out.

“Aye...”

The courtroom exploded. Or it ought to have, given the noise. Evangeline was on her feet, protesting profusely. The Marshal was on hers, shouting the Elezen down. The audience was abuzz. Dieter and Melkire alone stood… and sat… in silence. The prosecutor looked quite smug as order was at last restored and the chamber quieted.

“...but not for Taeros.”

Dieter frowned. “Please answer the questions as I ask them, Sergeant. No more, no less.”

Osric smirked. “Sure.”

Dieter turned to fetch yet another set of documents from his table before approaching the stand. “Sergeant Melkire, is this your handwriting?”

Oh, gods. He has them..

The very papers he’d hoped would exonerate him were now being used to condemn him.

I should’ve told Evangeline.

Too late now.

He glanced down and there it was, staring him straight in the face.

“No,” he answered.

“Do you recognize this handwriting?”

“...aye.”

“Your Honors, if you would turn to the next page, you will find that the remainder of the provided excerpt contains a copy of a letter addressed to ‘Flame Sergeant Osric Melkire,’ from one ‘Nero Lazarov’. We have had this handwriting compared with other extant samples; the authenticity of this letter is not in question. ‘Surprising utility as an assassin,’ he says… oh, my… please note, Your Honors, that the accused allowed this criminal to escape justice… Sergeant Melkire, the testimonies of Hearn and Callae, as well as your own admission, place you at the scene. As for this letter, Sergeant… did you attempt to assassinate Jameson Taeros?”

“No.”

Dieter’s eyebrows rose. “No? But Lazarov’s letter clearly suggest that--”

“--you’re lackin’ context, my original correspondence--”

“--is unavailable, Sergeant--”

Liar.

“--we only just barely managed to acquire a warrant for Lazarov’s correspondence, Commander Swift was quite unwilling to part with it--”

Primrose was on her feet again; she and Dieter bellowed back and forth at each other and at the bench until the gavel came down hard with three sharp raps. The prosecutor looked frustrated and furious as he turned and barked his next question at the accused.

“--Sergeant Melkire, if you insist that you were not conducting an assassination, then for what purpose were you present at the scene?!”

Osric smiled.

“Jameson Taeros was holding one of Lazarov’s associates prisoner. The pirate wanted his associate back in return for information pertaining to Ernis Randolph and the terrorist’s organization. I can only assume that ‘surprising utility as an assassin’ is some reference to the ease with which the merchant-noble’s sellswords were dispatched.”

Dieter smirked.

“And the name of this associate?”

The accused snuck a glance up at the bench. He couldn’t count on knowing what Callae might or might not have known. To be caught in a lie at this junction… he couldn’t afford for Dieter to strip him of what little credibility he had. The truth, then.

“Roen Deneith.”

The courtroom erupted again.

This time, despite the Marshal’s best efforts, the clamor refused to die down. Apparently, that name still carried weight with the men and women in service to the Jewel, the weight of memory.

Scandal, he thought to himself in his best impression of an appalled maid, scandal!

Dieter had to yell to be heard over the crowd.

“Last question, Sergeant! Last question! Were you under orders to strike such a bargain with the pirate Lazarov, to forcibly and illegally free Roen Deneith from her gaol cell?”

That demanded everyone’s attention. The chamber fell silent as everyone strained to hear the answer… the answer which was not immediately forthcoming, and for good reason. The accused’s thoughts were racing.

If I were under orders, then there’d be no reason to hold me responsible.

I can’t sell out the Dauntless. I won’t.

He wants Mikh’a and the others. Give him what he wants. He’ll let you go.

No. Ain’t right to shift the blame.

It’s your life on the line.

It’s my responsibility.

Damn your honor.

They’re my mistakes.

Damn your guilt.

No one else pays.

He chuckled.

“No. No, I wasn’t.”

His barrister came to his defense in an instant. She, the prosecutor, and the Marshal went back and forth for several long minutes as the general cacophony rose one last time to a fevered pitch. At last, Dieter spun on one heel and thrust one fat finger of condemnation at him.

“--that the sergeant, knowing and willingly of his own accord, did turn vigilante and strike bargains with the condemned, that he did violate the sanctity of personal property, that he and accomplices struck down Brass Blades and lawfully employed mercenaries alike, that he did aid and abet in the illegal release of a prisoner of the state, and that, when his path was barred, he did make an attempt on the life of one Jameson Taeros! Without orders, and in violation of both the spirit and letter of his oath!”

The prosecutor’s chest heaved as he took several deep, shuddering breaths with which to cover his excitement.

“No. Further. Questions. Your Honors!”

The gavel sounded out a further three times.

“Recess while we retire to deliberate on a verdict.” The Marshal looked grave as the bailiff manhandled Melkire off the stand. “We will reconvene one bell from now.”

"Osric Melkire. With regards to the charges of conspiracy and assassination brought against you, the defendant, as the primary suspect allegedly responsible for arranging the murders of Lords Rezhenne, Quillburn, and Mumuqaru, in accordance with the regulations of the Immortal Flames and the laws of Ul'dah as set forth by the Arrzaneth Ossuary, we find the evidence brought against you insufficient. Burden of proof is upon the prosecution, not the defense, to provide, and we find the supposed 'proof' in this case to be circumstantial at best."

"However."

"Eyewitnesses place you at the scene the night that Jameson Taeros disappeared. By your own admission, you were present for the altercation, and it is a matter of military record that you negotiated with a criminal and terrorist and that said negotiations were the reason, the cause as it were, for said presence, for said altercation. Furthermore, you were under no orders from your ranking officers to pursue such a course, and as such this constitutes an act of vigilantism on your part. The evidence, I'm afraid, is rather damning... particularly Miss Callae's testimony pertaining to the use of a firearm. As it stands, we have little choice but to find you guilty of the charges of assault, battery and attempted murder upon the person of Lord Taeros."

"That said."

"There are extenuating circumstances. This case is rife with them. First and foremost, it has come to our attention that Taeros survived the incident and still numbers among the living. That neither he nor his representatives have come forth in the intervening moons to bring a suit against you... well, we would be remiss if we did not take such a strange turn of events into account. The same would hold true if we were to disregard the fact that you struck the bargain you did for the sake of the 'greater good,' as it were. You saved many lives, and not all of them refugees. Quite a few citizens owe their well-being to you, and we kept that under consideration. We deliberated long and hard as a result, and came to a decision."

"Leniency."

"You are henceforth dishonorably discharged from the Immortal Flames for conduct unbecoming an enlisted man. Moving forward, you will neither benefit nor profit from Sultanate and Syndicate alike. We are cutting you loose, with all that entails. Given your time spent drilling new recruits, we will be contacting your fellow servicemen, instructing them to refuse you, to turn you away, to shut and bar their doors against you. Never again will you abuse our Grand Company."

"You are no hero, Master Melkire, though you strive for heroics. You are little more than a thug, a dog we leashed for a time. Do keep that in mind."

He sighed with relief for what had to be the thousandth time that night.

A chill wind blew through the Goblet. He glanced over his shoulder towards the house to note that the lights were still on; the Dauntless were still celebrating his release, what few of them were home. He shook his head mirthfully, turned back to regard the valley that was spread out before him and cloaked in mist and fog. It wasn’t until he heard footsteps approaching from down the street that he shifted again as he leaned on the stone railing. One glance was enough.

The Marshal sidled up alongside him, stood next to him, rested her manicured hands next to his.

Osric grunted. “Evenin’, Marshal. Hells can I do for you?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. Truth be told, I am here more or less to congratulate you on your acquittal.”

He snorted. “Acquittal? I was found guilty of at least one charge. Dragged m’name through the mud, you ‘n’ the others did. Dishonorable discharge. You your own self made it gods-damned clear what you think of me.”

The woman smirked. “And yet here you are. Free. Unharmed. At liberty to go about your own business. To live your life, as it were. Miraculous, that, given your crimes and how similar… hmm… achievements have earned so many of your former fellows in the Flames a noose of their own.”

The Lominsan eyed her sidelong, straightened. Wheels started turning. Something or someone struck a light in his head and gave life to suspicion.. and clarity.

“What’re you sayin’? That the rulin’ was rigged?”

The Marshall tilted her head back and the back of one hand rose to cover her mouth as she positively tittered. Her laughter was crystalline, as though someone had struck a glass windchime and set it into motion.

“Of course it was rigged, Sergeant. However else were we to retain your services? After all….”

The woman’s voice dropped an octave or two, and her smile was a devious one as she turned to regard the midlander. The very air seemed to congeal around her as she spoke, motes of dust… or ash… gathering to cling to her form, a form which grew in mass and size, elongated, gained a few feet in height. Osric recoiled at the sight, tripped over his heels and fell ass first onto the cobblestones. He crawled backwards as best he could, hand over hand until he found himself with his back to a stone bench.

The woman who was not a woman, the Hyur who was an Elezen, grinned mercilessly.

“...you’ve an appointment to keep.”

”Pierre.”

The White Needle bowed. It was an elegant thing, full of grace and flourish… as befitting a former noble of House Durendaire.

‘Former’ because this man had been dead for decades. What stood before Osric now, the midlander knew, was little more and no less than a Crow, an abomination of a tormented soul gifted and cursed with a corpse by which it was chained to the lands of living. ‘Gifted’ because they were possessed of supernatural abilities, abilities which happened to include….

“You… y’never left… never left Ul’dah, you were here… you…”

The wheels in his head stopped turning, as if he’d heard the click of one last tumbler falling into place.

“You requested assistance from Ortolf,” spoke Pierre as he straightened to inspect the state of his nails, “and he saw to it that our captain stationed me here. To pose as you, as it were. I took the liberty during my stay to look into the current state of affairs. To be more specific, I looked into your state of affairs, Sergeant. After all, Forgehands might be a brute, but he is not as dim-witted as our dear Gnasher. Your mention of the Immortal Flames did not go unnoticed.”

“Tch.”

“Yes, I never left Ul’dah. Yes, I spied on you, upon your return. Imagine our surprise when we learned that you were to be court-martialed! On trial for your life… why, we couldn’t have that. You are too valuable to risk, far too valuable to lose to a corrupt judicial system.”

Osric swallowed. “You… the Marshal… you posed as the Marshal… took her place… had her killed….”

Pierre Glaisyer ceased his inspection to glance at the man and scoff at him, “Of course we had her killed. I was needed in her place, to influence deliberations, to insure that you would survive the ordeal. ‘Twould not do to have the woman returned to her station afterward, spouting tall tales of mysterious shapeshifters and conspiracy to see you acquitted. You would not serve nearly so well as our tool were you hounded all your life for escaping justice.”

The Hyur ground his teeth, balled and clenched his hands into fists. “Why…? Why, gods damn you? She was innocent, she--!”

“She was slated for death the moment you demanded a barrister.” The Elezen shrugged, horrifically dismissive. “When it became evident, when you made it abundantly clear, that the only means by which you might win your freedom for good was through the law, by running the gauntlet as it were… we did so appreciate your turn of phrase, by the by, ‘shadows creeping through your precious pissing palace’, the alliteration is exquisite… then it became necessary for us to intervene. At that moment, she was slated for death. Mine might have done the deed, but rest assured, Sergeant, the responsibility for this collateral is on your hands.”

In. Out. In. Out. He breathed. He waited until he’d calmed. Not significantly… but enough. Enough so that he could think.

“...what now?”

Pierre raised a hand and twirled it with another flourish. He shifted again, lost mass, shrank, changed. Mere moments later, he was the Marshal again. Looked like her. Spoke like her.

“Now, you return to your duties. You are to resume your training, three suns a fortnight, until you are deemed ready or until you and the other Gifted are called upon for the finale with Epinoch. What you do with your spare time is entirely up to you, so long as you stand ever ready for the captain’s summons. And remember....”

The woman glanced menacingly at the house.

“...your friends and your family are not always sequestered behind the safety of Korofi’s wards. They do come and go. ‘Twould be a shame if you or any of the others were to renege on our understanding. Are we understood?”

Gods damn you. Gods damn you all.

“Aye. What of you?”

The Marshal sighed theatrically, chin resting on the knuckles of one hand. “Alas, my task shall see me confined to this wretched place for moons yet. We cannot permit the Immortal Flames to suspect foul play, and as such the woman cannot disappear so soon after your court martial. I shall play the part to the best of my abilities, and shall rejoin the others as soon as I am able.”

She - he - stepped forward and knelt, smiling, to caress Osric’s cheek.

“Rotunda Crow owns your leash now, little man. Do behave. Come when called. Piss and shite when and where he commands you to. And above all else, do not bite the hand that feeds you.”