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His knees struck the floor as large burly hands which held him by the wrists and shoulders forced him down onto the carpet. He rolled his head back up and barked a laugh.
“This really necessary?â€
He caught a single glimpse of Jambert Mulliner, Captain of the 7th Squadron, pacing the floor of the office before him before another Sea Wolf hand clamped down over his skull and forced his head down, too.
Right coeurls, ain’tcha? Knowin’ that y’can’t truly hold me down ‘n’ still goin’ for it anyroad.
He flexed the fingers of each hand and listened to each pop as he felt his knuckles crack. Mulliner was speaking, but Osric wasn‘t altogether keen on listening, seeing as how the captain was addressing someone else entirely.
“...my thanks again for the use of your office, Lieutenant, a pity the Commander couldn’t be here today…â€
“...pity indeed, sir…â€
“Bless you for the carpettin’, Peak! Last time they had me on the ruttin’ cobblest--â€
The pressure on his skull vanished for a moment as someone struck him across the face, as someone else twisted one of his arms up and back behind him. Osric sucked in a breath between his teeth, and then burst laughing as blood began to trickle down from one corner of his mouth.
“...apologize for his rough treatment, the man is a criminal…â€
“...understand, sir, I do…â€
A small hand touched him, then… right between the shoulderblades, where the Black Spot festered like a malignant tumor, marring his skin like a revolting cross between a dark birthmark and an infected wound. Everyone who had touched him there in recent memory… even his own wife… had shuddered at the touch of it, at the feel of the malevolent aether that wasn’t his own as it coursed within his very blood… but this hand didn’t flinch. Not in the slightest. He sucked in another breath….
“...Yayatomo Sasatomo?â€
Footsteps thudded against the carpet as a Plainsfolk man circled around and came into view. The fellow looked old, judging by the grey streaks that shot through his otherwise stark-white hair and chin-strap beard. He was in uniform, his insignia designated him a Maelstrom lieutenant… and also one of the many decorated officials of Mealvaan’s Gate.
“You know me.â€
“I know your nephew.â€
Sasatomo snorted.
“So.... that’s why--â€
“My precious nephew had nothing to do with it. Horace was a friend of mine. He was always so fond of Danica… and I owed him a favor.â€
Osric blinked, but the ancient arcanist went on.
“Now, hold still. This will feel much, much worse than the last time.â€
Sasatomo stepped forward to place one hand, palm up, against Osric’s chest… right over his heart. Bent over as the midlander was, this had the rather absurd effect of looking as though the Lalafell was holding him up. And… and if to complete the insanity of the scene… Mulliner’s words to Flames First Lieutenant Burning Peak drifted over to them….
“...barbaric, please do believe that I would never have authorized the use of a Spot…â€
The laughter which threatened to once more bubble up to his lips died in his throat. His entire torso went ice-cold, as though he’d been dropped into a frigid Coerthan pool, and his arms and legs soon followed. Pain shot through his frame, from top to bottom, and as he registered the similarities to cramping… he began to seize. His teeth slammed together, and he had just enough time to think, this is why it’s necessary, before his internal temperature shifted again. Burning… burning alive. Chest pains, as though something had coiled about his heart and refused to let go. Sweat was pouring off him now… but the pressure in his chest slipped, the seizing stopped, and he cried aloud as Sasatomo pulled back, pulled something out of him….
His vision swam for several long moments, and he was barely aware of the muted whispers of Peak’s horror. Osric took a shuddering breath and forced his eyes open to see--
A green translucent sphere of a shield hovered above Sasatomo’s palm, and within coiled and swam and unfurled an infinite number of black tendrils… a pulsing and familiar ugliness of smoke that resembled...
“What is…? What is that…?!â€
The arcanist spared him a glance. “No concern of yours.â€
Sasatomo’s hand balled into a fist, and the sphere shrank… and shrank… and shrank, forcing the darkness into an ever smaller space. Light began to shine as the shield compressed into an infinitesimal point… and then shattered, leaving nothing behind but motes of aether upon the air.
The man who’d been Dirk Problemsolver sagged in the grip of his guards as the old man turned and approached the witnesses. Done. It was done. He was a free man again, so to speak. Free to go home... both homes.
The officers exchanged words for a few minutes in tones too hushed for him to hear… but at last, Jambert Mulliner walked over and knelt down to look Osric Melkire in the eye.
“I’ve a message for you, from Captain Holskstymm Faezsyngson. You remember him, surely.â€
That elicited a chuckle. “He looked so scandalized….â€
The captain frowned, but forged on. “Come back to Limsa with me. Stand trial.â€
Osric blinked and looked up, even as he fought down the indignant fury which left him wanting to spit into Jambert’s face. Stand trial? For what?! For the crimes he’d committed in his misspent youth?! They’d have him hanged! No questions as to his own guilt, they had more than enough witnesses and testimony and evidence! He’d barely survived his own court martial, and that had been rigged! Stand trial?!
He fought his wrath down, even as he realized that no one was holding him down any longer and it would be just as easy now to snap Mulliner’s neck as to spit in his face… he fought it down because…
â€You fix this! You fix this and you come back home to your family! To the girls! To me!â€
...because he’d been wrong so often as of late. He’d been wrong to stand for Morris, he’d been wrong to risk the life of his daughters’ father, he’d been wrong about Haelstyrmm, about Leanne and the others, about S’imba and Yheli and… he’d been wrong, to risk Balther and the old man’s family… and there had been Mercy, for once, in the city-state of Limsa Lominsa… and now….
“...no.â€
Mulliner looked disappointed, and began to rise--
“Not yet.â€
The captain stopped and went still. Osric took a deep, shuddering breath, and he went on.
“I pay my debts, but… give me some time. Time enough for… for me ‘n’ my family t’heal. Give me a year ‘n’ a sun. Then… I’ll come find you.â€
Jambert stared down at him… and nodded. “Aye.â€
And that was that.
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