Nonlethal Force
First Post
Chapter Six: HERITAGE REINCARNATED
Ischarus couldn’t help but smile at Semeion’s assertion. “Yes, I lost my sword. I know – number one rule of being a well prepared fighter is to always remembering to have your weapon handy. But it was either hand my sword over to the guard or else go into custody. Apparently the city guard doesn’t look too highly upon armed conflicts inside their walls. They refused to give me back my sword until I was proven innocent in my actions because they were either self-defense or an attempt to protect the innocent.”
Semeion nodded. His experience under Master Sathwright had taught him much about the use of magic and force in the civilized areas. “The city guard typically doesn’t approve of any kind of violence – and at best we’d all be considered vigilantes – even if we were working on the side of righteousness. Vigilantism is frowned upon by organized control groups like the city guard. In many cases the difference between a vigilante and a criminal is truly a fine line. Many of today’s decent vigilantes have a good chance of being tomorrow’s criminals because they take it too far.”
Ischarus frowned slightly as he surveyed the people walking past the temple. “I know that in my mind, Semeion, but in my heart I also know my motivations. I know that what we do in Quehalost isnecessary.”
Rhema saw Ischarus’ frustration and cut him of before he could say any more. Her hand slipped inside his left elbow and she stood beside him looking out into the crowd. “You know your motivations. They don’t. That’s what makes vigilantism such a dangerous bedfellow for the city guard. Vigilantes cannot be trusted fully because they do not submit to the rigorous structure of the law. A vigilante doesn’t work within the system – at least no system that I am aware of. I’m not saying it is bad to be a vigilante, but from the perspective of the law and the city guard what we did today was dangerous in their eyes. Any time people talk justice into their own hands – even for reasons of good like we had – it is dangerous for the people that protect this city.”
Ischarus glanced at Rhema out of the corner of his eye and said, “And that is precisely why I love going into Quehalost. When we are there, there is no confusion as to who the bringers of light and justice are. We are the ones bringing the light of goodness to an evil controlled realm. Our struggle in Quehalost is noble here.”
Charis took the opportunity to speak next. She was smiling at the fact that her language ability was getting good enough to follow this relatively deep conversation. “Yet when the struggle that began in Quehalost is brought to the civilized lands of Tongra the principles of that same quest are questioned. Had we fought Grick on the other side of the mountains, the city guard would no doubt praise our efforts. Here, they question our motivations. Is it because the dangerous is brought so close to them or because their lack of effort in matters that far away threatens their definition of how good their sense of justice truly is?”
Rhema also smiled, realizing that now they were talking about her expertise of people and what drives them. “Motivation is everything. The difference between good and evil is often fine. That is one of the reasons we never kill, Charis. If we take life, we may be open forever to the accusation of killing for the wrong reason. That is an accusation that we simply cannot afford to bring upon us if we desire to effectively reform those that we free. If we kill, then the enemy has a right to at least bring our character into question. Once our character is even remotely breeched – even if our killing would be justified – the enemy has the proper nook to place the smallest seed of doubt. That is a seed that can grow under the right influences. It is that fine line between criminal action and vigilantism that makes it such a dangerous tool to employ.”
Ischarus turned his expressionless face toward the people on the street and focused on a particularly plain looking man as he walked past the temple. “Yes,” he asserted in agreement, knowing that Rhema’s excursion was designed to cool his thoughts a bit. “and speaking of seeds of doubt that can be grown under the right amount of influence we should head to the jail to clear my name, get my sword back, and find out exactly what lies Grick has been spreading regarding the reasons for which he has come here.”
Once Ischarus had brought them out of the philosophical and back into reality Semeion gestured to Ischarus to lead the way to the prison. Rhema offered up a word of explanation as they walked. “My father pays a significant price to allow the reforming work of his villa to continue in peace. My father also pays a significant price to guarantee that Lord Ironblood ensures that his soldiers keep to themselves when incidents occur with rogue denizens of Quehalost. It is pretty typical for the enemies that we make in Quehalost to want to exact revenge upon us and take back those to whom we gave wings of freedom. My father prefers that we deal with the matters privately rather than involving the lord’s regular men. To be honest, my father is wise and does not openly trust many of the lord’s men. Like Lord Ironblood himself, many of his men can be bought with the right price. If his men were made deeply aware of our movements in and out of Quehalost there would be many who would be willing to sell such information to the wrong people. Thus, my father pays off Lord Ironblood to keep his tongue quiet. So long as my father pays more to keep the lord’s mouth quiet than others pay to open it we are safely under the lord’s protection.”
Semeion shook his head as they approached the jail. “That sounds to me like a rather precarious arrangement, personally. I’ve no doubt that sooner or later there will be an enemy in Quehalost that can twist the lord’s arm another way.”
Ischarus added, “So long as we are careful, that time will not come. The severity of our actions will largely determine the desire of the rulers of Quehalost to expend their resources to exact revenge.”
Once they had arrived at the jail, Rhema opened the door for Ischarus so that he could walk through first. Charis followed him into the building. Her interest and curiosity had been aroused at the possibility of seeing the inside of a prison. Rhema held the door for Semeion and then followed the rest in.
Once inside the stone building, the coolness of the air was striking. Much of the jail had been magically excavated by the same wizards long ago who had constructed the walls and gated entrances of the city. The prison cells had been created to be completely underground. This created subtle air currents that carried the cool air throughout the whole building. Many of these currents arrived by shaft that were far too small for a person to fit through. The fact that the walls were made of thick stone helped the building retain its coolness even in the heat of the day.
On the inside, the party found themselves in a long and narrow entrance room. Immediately along the wall opposite from the door they had entered was another single door and a barred window beside it to the right. The window itself was tall and very narrow. It was too thin for a normal sized person to fit their shoulders through, although it might have been possible for a member of a smaller race to squeeze through should they be on their side and find a way to remove the bars.
A woman sat on the opposite side of the window. “Can I help you folks today? Just so you know, Visitations are not allowed on a walk-in basis. They must be arranged ahead of time with the warden.”
Ischarus approached the window with confidence and smiled pleasantly at the woman. “Could you please tell Captain Jacobseille that the young man whose sword was taken by the city guard earlier in the day has come to clear his name and claim the sword back?”
The woman leaned forward in her chair so as to draw herself closer to the window. From her seat behind the bars she looked at Ischarus from head to toe and said, “Yes, I do believe that the captain has been expecting you. Can you wait for a moment while I go inform the captain that the one they have been waiting for has arrived?”
Ischarus nodded in the affirmative without saying a word. The woman slid off her chair and quickly walked away from the window and out of sight. The party could hear a door open and then slam freely behind her as she left her office area.
Everyone but Charis exchanged looks of anticipation. Rather than anticipating the next step in clearing Ischarus’ name, Charis was intrigued by the procedures and even the construction of the building so that safety was ensured. “Is this typical behavior, Semeion?” Charis asked out of her curiosity.
Semeion wrinkled his eyebrows in thought. “Not to my knowledge. I mean, it is pretty typical for the captains of the guard and the warden to have to be raised by other personnel, but I don’t like the way she phrased her words. They’ve been waiting for you, Ischarus.”
Ischarus could feel his palms began to sweat. The conversation they had earlier about vigilantism was not helping his thoughts at the moment. For that matter, neither was Semeion. “I noticed that too, Semeion. It didn’t sound right the way she said it. They’ve been waiting for me. I don’t like how she said more than the captain has been waiting.”
As he stood in the long and narrow entrance room, Ischarus felt a power growing in his chest. Actually, Ischarus felt as though he were beginning the initial stages of a heart attack. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his heart began to beat heavily. The more he thought about the woman’s speech the more his heart pounded in his chest. A feeling of warmth shot through his left arm and rested just below his wrists. He opened and closed his left hand several times to try and shake the feeling, but it was no use. The feeling was there to stay. His heart beat even harder.
Rhema noticed Ischarus’ sudden fidget with his hand. She slipped her own hand into the hand the hand that Ischarus was nervously fidgeting with and spoke with confidence. “Either way, Ischarus, we’re staying put. If they’ve been waiting for you then walking away does nothing. If you walk away now you appear to be guilty of something that you are not. If you and Semeion are simply having a problem with an overactive imagination then there is nothing to worry about.”
The door beside the window crashed open and five armed city guards poured out. They were armed and ready for a fight. Out of instinct Charis backed up and turned to the door leading to the outside. As she turned for the door, it also burst open and ten more guards poured in from the outside of the building. A man dressed in well kept leather armor and carrying a drawn falchion followed these ten guards in from the outside. The dress of the man told the party that this was the warden of the jail. The fact that the rest of the guards initially looked to him for a signal also demonstrated that he was in charge in this place.
By means of the inside door, two more men entered who were armed and armored better than the regular city guard. Ischarus and Rhema immediately recognized one of them as the guard chief they had met on the street earlier. The other one approached Ischarus. His own falchion was already drawn and leveled in the direction of Ischarus’ heart.
The man spoke as he approached Ischarus. “I understand from my chief that you are the owner of the sword he brought forth from an armed conflict earlier today. I am Captain Jacobseille and the man over there is Warden Farette. We are requesting that your friends leave your side and you come peacefully into the jail so we may discuss the events from earlier in the day.”
Semeion growled soft enough for Ischarus, Rhema, and Charis to hear, “I told you I didn’t like what the woman said.”
[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]Chapter Six: HERITAGE REINCARNATED
Ischarus couldn’t help but smile at Semeion’s assertion. “Yes, I lost my sword. I know – number one rule of being a well prepared fighter is to always remembering to have your weapon handy. But it was either hand my sword over to the guard or else go into custody. Apparently the city guard doesn’t look too highly upon armed conflicts inside their walls. They refused to give me back my sword until I was proven innocent in my actions because they were either self-defense or an attempt to protect the innocent.”
Semeion nodded. His experience under Master Sathwright had taught him much about the use of magic and force in the civilized areas. “The city guard typically doesn’t approve of any kind of violence – and at best we’d all be considered vigilantes – even if we were working on the side of righteousness. Vigilantism is frowned upon by organized control groups like the city guard. In many cases the difference between a vigilante and a criminal is truly a fine line. Many of today’s decent vigilantes have a good chance of being tomorrow’s criminals because they take it too far.”
Ischarus frowned slightly as he surveyed the people walking past the temple. “I know that in my mind, Semeion, but in my heart I also know my motivations. I know that what we do in Quehalost isnecessary.”
Rhema saw Ischarus’ frustration and cut him of before he could say any more. Her hand slipped inside his left elbow and she stood beside him looking out into the crowd. “You know your motivations. They don’t. That’s what makes vigilantism such a dangerous bedfellow for the city guard. Vigilantes cannot be trusted fully because they do not submit to the rigorous structure of the law. A vigilante doesn’t work within the system – at least no system that I am aware of. I’m not saying it is bad to be a vigilante, but from the perspective of the law and the city guard what we did today was dangerous in their eyes. Any time people talk justice into their own hands – even for reasons of good like we had – it is dangerous for the people that protect this city.”
Ischarus glanced at Rhema out of the corner of his eye and said, “And that is precisely why I love going into Quehalost. When we are there, there is no confusion as to who the bringers of light and justice are. We are the ones bringing the light of goodness to an evil controlled realm. Our struggle in Quehalost is noble here.”
Charis took the opportunity to speak next. She was smiling at the fact that her language ability was getting good enough to follow this relatively deep conversation. “Yet when the struggle that began in Quehalost is brought to the civilized lands of Tongra the principles of that same quest are questioned. Had we fought Grick on the other side of the mountains, the city guard would no doubt praise our efforts. Here, they question our motivations. Is it because the dangerous is brought so close to them or because their lack of effort in matters that far away threatens their definition of how good their sense of justice truly is?”
Rhema also smiled, realizing that now they were talking about her expertise of people and what drives them. “Motivation is everything. The difference between good and evil is often fine. That is one of the reasons we never kill, Charis. If we take life, we may be open forever to the accusation of killing for the wrong reason. That is an accusation that we simply cannot afford to bring upon us if we desire to effectively reform those that we free. If we kill, then the enemy has a right to at least bring our character into question. Once our character is even remotely breeched – even if our killing would be justified – the enemy has the proper nook to place the smallest seed of doubt. That is a seed that can grow under the right influences. It is that fine line between criminal action and vigilantism that makes it such a dangerous tool to employ.”
Ischarus turned his expressionless face toward the people on the street and focused on a particularly plain looking man as he walked past the temple. “Yes,” he asserted in agreement, knowing that Rhema’s excursion was designed to cool his thoughts a bit. “and speaking of seeds of doubt that can be grown under the right amount of influence we should head to the jail to clear my name, get my sword back, and find out exactly what lies Grick has been spreading regarding the reasons for which he has come here.”
Once Ischarus had brought them out of the philosophical and back into reality Semeion gestured to Ischarus to lead the way to the prison. Rhema offered up a word of explanation as they walked. “My father pays a significant price to allow the reforming work of his villa to continue in peace. My father also pays a significant price to guarantee that Lord Ironblood ensures that his soldiers keep to themselves when incidents occur with rogue denizens of Quehalost. It is pretty typical for the enemies that we make in Quehalost to want to exact revenge upon us and take back those to whom we gave wings of freedom. My father prefers that we deal with the matters privately rather than involving the lord’s regular men. To be honest, my father is wise and does not openly trust many of the lord’s men. Like Lord Ironblood himself, many of his men can be bought with the right price. If his men were made deeply aware of our movements in and out of Quehalost there would be many who would be willing to sell such information to the wrong people. Thus, my father pays off Lord Ironblood to keep his tongue quiet. So long as my father pays more to keep the lord’s mouth quiet than others pay to open it we are safely under the lord’s protection.”
Semeion shook his head as they approached the jail. “That sounds to me like a rather precarious arrangement, personally. I’ve no doubt that sooner or later there will be an enemy in Quehalost that can twist the lord’s arm another way.”
Ischarus added, “So long as we are careful, that time will not come. The severity of our actions will largely determine the desire of the rulers of Quehalost to expend their resources to exact revenge.”
Once they had arrived at the jail, Rhema opened the door for Ischarus so that he could walk through first. Charis followed him into the building. Her interest and curiosity had been aroused at the possibility of seeing the inside of a prison. Rhema held the door for Semeion and then followed the rest in.
Once inside the stone building, the coolness of the air was striking. Much of the jail had been magically excavated by the same wizards long ago who had constructed the walls and gated entrances of the city. The prison cells had been created to be completely underground. This created subtle air currents that carried the cool air throughout the whole building. Many of these currents arrived by shaft that were far too small for a person to fit through. The fact that the walls were made of thick stone helped the building retain its coolness even in the heat of the day.
On the inside, the party found themselves in a long and narrow entrance room. Immediately along the wall opposite from the door they had entered was another single door and a barred window beside it to the right. The window itself was tall and very narrow. It was too thin for a normal sized person to fit their shoulders through, although it might have been possible for a member of a smaller race to squeeze through should they be on their side and find a way to remove the bars.
A woman sat on the opposite side of the window. “Can I help you folks today? Just so you know, Visitations are not allowed on a walk-in basis. They must be arranged ahead of time with the warden.”
Ischarus approached the window with confidence and smiled pleasantly at the woman. “Could you please tell Captain Jacobseille that the young man whose sword was taken by the city guard earlier in the day has come to clear his name and claim the sword back?”
The woman leaned forward in her chair so as to draw herself closer to the window. From her seat behind the bars she looked at Ischarus from head to toe and said, “Yes, I do believe that the captain has been expecting you. Can you wait for a moment while I go inform the captain that the one they have been waiting for has arrived?”
Ischarus nodded in the affirmative without saying a word. The woman slid off her chair and quickly walked away from the window and out of sight. The party could hear a door open and then slam freely behind her as she left her office area.
Everyone but Charis exchanged looks of anticipation. Rather than anticipating the next step in clearing Ischarus’ name, Charis was intrigued by the procedures and even the construction of the building so that safety was ensured. “Is this typical behavior, Semeion?” Charis asked out of her curiosity.
Semeion wrinkled his eyebrows in thought. “Not to my knowledge. I mean, it is pretty typical for the captains of the guard and the warden to have to be raised by other personnel, but I don’t like the way she phrased her words. They’ve been waiting for you, Ischarus.”
Ischarus could feel his palms began to sweat. The conversation they had earlier about vigilantism was not helping his thoughts at the moment. For that matter, neither was Semeion. “I noticed that too, Semeion. It didn’t sound right the way she said it. They’ve been waiting for me. I don’t like how she said more than the captain has been waiting.”
As he stood in the long and narrow entrance room, Ischarus felt a power growing in his chest. Actually, Ischarus felt as though he were beginning the initial stages of a heart attack. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his heart began to beat heavily. The more he thought about the woman’s speech the more his heart pounded in his chest. A feeling of warmth shot through his left arm and rested just below his wrists. He opened and closed his left hand several times to try and shake the feeling, but it was no use. The feeling was there to stay. His heart beat even harder.
Rhema noticed Ischarus’ sudden fidget with his hand. She slipped her own hand into the hand the hand that Ischarus was nervously fidgeting with and spoke with confidence. “Either way, Ischarus, we’re staying put. If they’ve been waiting for you then walking away does nothing. If you walk away now you appear to be guilty of something that you are not. If you and Semeion are simply having a problem with an overactive imagination then there is nothing to worry about.”
The door beside the window crashed open and five armed city guards poured out. They were armed and ready for a fight. Out of instinct Charis backed up and turned to the door leading to the outside. As she turned for the door, it also burst open and ten more guards poured in from the outside of the building. A man dressed in well kept leather armor and carrying a drawn falchion followed these ten guards in from the outside. The dress of the man told the party that this was the warden of the jail. The fact that the rest of the guards initially looked to him for a signal also demonstrated that he was in charge in this place.
By means of the inside door, two more men entered who were armed and armored better than the regular city guard. Ischarus and Rhema immediately recognized one of them as the guard chief they had met on the street earlier. The other one approached Ischarus. His own falchion was already drawn and leveled in the direction of Ischarus’ heart.
The man spoke as he approached Ischarus. “I understand from my chief that you are the owner of the sword he brought forth from an armed conflict earlier today. I am Captain Jacobseille and the man over there is Warden Farette. We are requesting that your friends leave your side and you come peacefully into the jail so we may discuss the events from earlier in the day.”
Semeion growled soft enough for Ischarus, Rhema, and Charis to hear, “I told you I didn’t like what the woman said.”
[/Sblock]
Ischarus couldn’t help but smile at Semeion’s assertion. “Yes, I lost my sword. I know – number one rule of being a well prepared fighter is to always remembering to have your weapon handy. But it was either hand my sword over to the guard or else go into custody. Apparently the city guard doesn’t look too highly upon armed conflicts inside their walls. They refused to give me back my sword until I was proven innocent in my actions because they were either self-defense or an attempt to protect the innocent.”
Semeion nodded. His experience under Master Sathwright had taught him much about the use of magic and force in the civilized areas. “The city guard typically doesn’t approve of any kind of violence – and at best we’d all be considered vigilantes – even if we were working on the side of righteousness. Vigilantism is frowned upon by organized control groups like the city guard. In many cases the difference between a vigilante and a criminal is truly a fine line. Many of today’s decent vigilantes have a good chance of being tomorrow’s criminals because they take it too far.”
Ischarus frowned slightly as he surveyed the people walking past the temple. “I know that in my mind, Semeion, but in my heart I also know my motivations. I know that what we do in Quehalost isnecessary.”
Rhema saw Ischarus’ frustration and cut him of before he could say any more. Her hand slipped inside his left elbow and she stood beside him looking out into the crowd. “You know your motivations. They don’t. That’s what makes vigilantism such a dangerous bedfellow for the city guard. Vigilantes cannot be trusted fully because they do not submit to the rigorous structure of the law. A vigilante doesn’t work within the system – at least no system that I am aware of. I’m not saying it is bad to be a vigilante, but from the perspective of the law and the city guard what we did today was dangerous in their eyes. Any time people talk justice into their own hands – even for reasons of good like we had – it is dangerous for the people that protect this city.”
Ischarus glanced at Rhema out of the corner of his eye and said, “And that is precisely why I love going into Quehalost. When we are there, there is no confusion as to who the bringers of light and justice are. We are the ones bringing the light of goodness to an evil controlled realm. Our struggle in Quehalost is noble here.”
Charis took the opportunity to speak next. She was smiling at the fact that her language ability was getting good enough to follow this relatively deep conversation. “Yet when the struggle that began in Quehalost is brought to the civilized lands of Tongra the principles of that same quest are questioned. Had we fought Grick on the other side of the mountains, the city guard would no doubt praise our efforts. Here, they question our motivations. Is it because the dangerous is brought so close to them or because their lack of effort in matters that far away threatens their definition of how good their sense of justice truly is?”
Rhema also smiled, realizing that now they were talking about her expertise of people and what drives them. “Motivation is everything. The difference between good and evil is often fine. That is one of the reasons we never kill, Charis. If we take life, we may be open forever to the accusation of killing for the wrong reason. That is an accusation that we simply cannot afford to bring upon us if we desire to effectively reform those that we free. If we kill, then the enemy has a right to at least bring our character into question. Once our character is even remotely breeched – even if our killing would be justified – the enemy has the proper nook to place the smallest seed of doubt. That is a seed that can grow under the right influences. It is that fine line between criminal action and vigilantism that makes it such a dangerous tool to employ.”
Ischarus turned his expressionless face toward the people on the street and focused on a particularly plain looking man as he walked past the temple. “Yes,” he asserted in agreement, knowing that Rhema’s excursion was designed to cool his thoughts a bit. “and speaking of seeds of doubt that can be grown under the right amount of influence we should head to the jail to clear my name, get my sword back, and find out exactly what lies Grick has been spreading regarding the reasons for which he has come here.”
Once Ischarus had brought them out of the philosophical and back into reality Semeion gestured to Ischarus to lead the way to the prison. Rhema offered up a word of explanation as they walked. “My father pays a significant price to allow the reforming work of his villa to continue in peace. My father also pays a significant price to guarantee that Lord Ironblood ensures that his soldiers keep to themselves when incidents occur with rogue denizens of Quehalost. It is pretty typical for the enemies that we make in Quehalost to want to exact revenge upon us and take back those to whom we gave wings of freedom. My father prefers that we deal with the matters privately rather than involving the lord’s regular men. To be honest, my father is wise and does not openly trust many of the lord’s men. Like Lord Ironblood himself, many of his men can be bought with the right price. If his men were made deeply aware of our movements in and out of Quehalost there would be many who would be willing to sell such information to the wrong people. Thus, my father pays off Lord Ironblood to keep his tongue quiet. So long as my father pays more to keep the lord’s mouth quiet than others pay to open it we are safely under the lord’s protection.”
Semeion shook his head as they approached the jail. “That sounds to me like a rather precarious arrangement, personally. I’ve no doubt that sooner or later there will be an enemy in Quehalost that can twist the lord’s arm another way.”
Ischarus added, “So long as we are careful, that time will not come. The severity of our actions will largely determine the desire of the rulers of Quehalost to expend their resources to exact revenge.”
Once they had arrived at the jail, Rhema opened the door for Ischarus so that he could walk through first. Charis followed him into the building. Her interest and curiosity had been aroused at the possibility of seeing the inside of a prison. Rhema held the door for Semeion and then followed the rest in.
Once inside the stone building, the coolness of the air was striking. Much of the jail had been magically excavated by the same wizards long ago who had constructed the walls and gated entrances of the city. The prison cells had been created to be completely underground. This created subtle air currents that carried the cool air throughout the whole building. Many of these currents arrived by shaft that were far too small for a person to fit through. The fact that the walls were made of thick stone helped the building retain its coolness even in the heat of the day.
On the inside, the party found themselves in a long and narrow entrance room. Immediately along the wall opposite from the door they had entered was another single door and a barred window beside it to the right. The window itself was tall and very narrow. It was too thin for a normal sized person to fit their shoulders through, although it might have been possible for a member of a smaller race to squeeze through should they be on their side and find a way to remove the bars.
A woman sat on the opposite side of the window. “Can I help you folks today? Just so you know, Visitations are not allowed on a walk-in basis. They must be arranged ahead of time with the warden.”
Ischarus approached the window with confidence and smiled pleasantly at the woman. “Could you please tell Captain Jacobseille that the young man whose sword was taken by the city guard earlier in the day has come to clear his name and claim the sword back?”
The woman leaned forward in her chair so as to draw herself closer to the window. From her seat behind the bars she looked at Ischarus from head to toe and said, “Yes, I do believe that the captain has been expecting you. Can you wait for a moment while I go inform the captain that the one they have been waiting for has arrived?”
Ischarus nodded in the affirmative without saying a word. The woman slid off her chair and quickly walked away from the window and out of sight. The party could hear a door open and then slam freely behind her as she left her office area.
Everyone but Charis exchanged looks of anticipation. Rather than anticipating the next step in clearing Ischarus’ name, Charis was intrigued by the procedures and even the construction of the building so that safety was ensured. “Is this typical behavior, Semeion?” Charis asked out of her curiosity.
Semeion wrinkled his eyebrows in thought. “Not to my knowledge. I mean, it is pretty typical for the captains of the guard and the warden to have to be raised by other personnel, but I don’t like the way she phrased her words. They’ve been waiting for you, Ischarus.”
Ischarus could feel his palms began to sweat. The conversation they had earlier about vigilantism was not helping his thoughts at the moment. For that matter, neither was Semeion. “I noticed that too, Semeion. It didn’t sound right the way she said it. They’ve been waiting for me. I don’t like how she said more than the captain has been waiting.”
As he stood in the long and narrow entrance room, Ischarus felt a power growing in his chest. Actually, Ischarus felt as though he were beginning the initial stages of a heart attack. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his heart began to beat heavily. The more he thought about the woman’s speech the more his heart pounded in his chest. A feeling of warmth shot through his left arm and rested just below his wrists. He opened and closed his left hand several times to try and shake the feeling, but it was no use. The feeling was there to stay. His heart beat even harder.
Rhema noticed Ischarus’ sudden fidget with his hand. She slipped her own hand into the hand the hand that Ischarus was nervously fidgeting with and spoke with confidence. “Either way, Ischarus, we’re staying put. If they’ve been waiting for you then walking away does nothing. If you walk away now you appear to be guilty of something that you are not. If you and Semeion are simply having a problem with an overactive imagination then there is nothing to worry about.”
The door beside the window crashed open and five armed city guards poured out. They were armed and ready for a fight. Out of instinct Charis backed up and turned to the door leading to the outside. As she turned for the door, it also burst open and ten more guards poured in from the outside of the building. A man dressed in well kept leather armor and carrying a drawn falchion followed these ten guards in from the outside. The dress of the man told the party that this was the warden of the jail. The fact that the rest of the guards initially looked to him for a signal also demonstrated that he was in charge in this place.
By means of the inside door, two more men entered who were armed and armored better than the regular city guard. Ischarus and Rhema immediately recognized one of them as the guard chief they had met on the street earlier. The other one approached Ischarus. His own falchion was already drawn and leveled in the direction of Ischarus’ heart.
The man spoke as he approached Ischarus. “I understand from my chief that you are the owner of the sword he brought forth from an armed conflict earlier today. I am Captain Jacobseille and the man over there is Warden Farette. We are requesting that your friends leave your side and you come peacefully into the jail so we may discuss the events from earlier in the day.”
Semeion growled soft enough for Ischarus, Rhema, and Charis to hear, “I told you I didn’t like what the woman said.”
[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]Chapter Six: HERITAGE REINCARNATED
Ischarus couldn’t help but smile at Semeion’s assertion. “Yes, I lost my sword. I know – number one rule of being a well prepared fighter is to always remembering to have your weapon handy. But it was either hand my sword over to the guard or else go into custody. Apparently the city guard doesn’t look too highly upon armed conflicts inside their walls. They refused to give me back my sword until I was proven innocent in my actions because they were either self-defense or an attempt to protect the innocent.”
Semeion nodded. His experience under Master Sathwright had taught him much about the use of magic and force in the civilized areas. “The city guard typically doesn’t approve of any kind of violence – and at best we’d all be considered vigilantes – even if we were working on the side of righteousness. Vigilantism is frowned upon by organized control groups like the city guard. In many cases the difference between a vigilante and a criminal is truly a fine line. Many of today’s decent vigilantes have a good chance of being tomorrow’s criminals because they take it too far.”
Ischarus frowned slightly as he surveyed the people walking past the temple. “I know that in my mind, Semeion, but in my heart I also know my motivations. I know that what we do in Quehalost isnecessary.”
Rhema saw Ischarus’ frustration and cut him of before he could say any more. Her hand slipped inside his left elbow and she stood beside him looking out into the crowd. “You know your motivations. They don’t. That’s what makes vigilantism such a dangerous bedfellow for the city guard. Vigilantes cannot be trusted fully because they do not submit to the rigorous structure of the law. A vigilante doesn’t work within the system – at least no system that I am aware of. I’m not saying it is bad to be a vigilante, but from the perspective of the law and the city guard what we did today was dangerous in their eyes. Any time people talk justice into their own hands – even for reasons of good like we had – it is dangerous for the people that protect this city.”
Ischarus glanced at Rhema out of the corner of his eye and said, “And that is precisely why I love going into Quehalost. When we are there, there is no confusion as to who the bringers of light and justice are. We are the ones bringing the light of goodness to an evil controlled realm. Our struggle in Quehalost is noble here.”
Charis took the opportunity to speak next. She was smiling at the fact that her language ability was getting good enough to follow this relatively deep conversation. “Yet when the struggle that began in Quehalost is brought to the civilized lands of Tongra the principles of that same quest are questioned. Had we fought Grick on the other side of the mountains, the city guard would no doubt praise our efforts. Here, they question our motivations. Is it because the dangerous is brought so close to them or because their lack of effort in matters that far away threatens their definition of how good their sense of justice truly is?”
Rhema also smiled, realizing that now they were talking about her expertise of people and what drives them. “Motivation is everything. The difference between good and evil is often fine. That is one of the reasons we never kill, Charis. If we take life, we may be open forever to the accusation of killing for the wrong reason. That is an accusation that we simply cannot afford to bring upon us if we desire to effectively reform those that we free. If we kill, then the enemy has a right to at least bring our character into question. Once our character is even remotely breeched – even if our killing would be justified – the enemy has the proper nook to place the smallest seed of doubt. That is a seed that can grow under the right influences. It is that fine line between criminal action and vigilantism that makes it such a dangerous tool to employ.”
Ischarus turned his expressionless face toward the people on the street and focused on a particularly plain looking man as he walked past the temple. “Yes,” he asserted in agreement, knowing that Rhema’s excursion was designed to cool his thoughts a bit. “and speaking of seeds of doubt that can be grown under the right amount of influence we should head to the jail to clear my name, get my sword back, and find out exactly what lies Grick has been spreading regarding the reasons for which he has come here.”
Once Ischarus had brought them out of the philosophical and back into reality Semeion gestured to Ischarus to lead the way to the prison. Rhema offered up a word of explanation as they walked. “My father pays a significant price to allow the reforming work of his villa to continue in peace. My father also pays a significant price to guarantee that Lord Ironblood ensures that his soldiers keep to themselves when incidents occur with rogue denizens of Quehalost. It is pretty typical for the enemies that we make in Quehalost to want to exact revenge upon us and take back those to whom we gave wings of freedom. My father prefers that we deal with the matters privately rather than involving the lord’s regular men. To be honest, my father is wise and does not openly trust many of the lord’s men. Like Lord Ironblood himself, many of his men can be bought with the right price. If his men were made deeply aware of our movements in and out of Quehalost there would be many who would be willing to sell such information to the wrong people. Thus, my father pays off Lord Ironblood to keep his tongue quiet. So long as my father pays more to keep the lord’s mouth quiet than others pay to open it we are safely under the lord’s protection.”
Semeion shook his head as they approached the jail. “That sounds to me like a rather precarious arrangement, personally. I’ve no doubt that sooner or later there will be an enemy in Quehalost that can twist the lord’s arm another way.”
Ischarus added, “So long as we are careful, that time will not come. The severity of our actions will largely determine the desire of the rulers of Quehalost to expend their resources to exact revenge.”
Once they had arrived at the jail, Rhema opened the door for Ischarus so that he could walk through first. Charis followed him into the building. Her interest and curiosity had been aroused at the possibility of seeing the inside of a prison. Rhema held the door for Semeion and then followed the rest in.
Once inside the stone building, the coolness of the air was striking. Much of the jail had been magically excavated by the same wizards long ago who had constructed the walls and gated entrances of the city. The prison cells had been created to be completely underground. This created subtle air currents that carried the cool air throughout the whole building. Many of these currents arrived by shaft that were far too small for a person to fit through. The fact that the walls were made of thick stone helped the building retain its coolness even in the heat of the day.
On the inside, the party found themselves in a long and narrow entrance room. Immediately along the wall opposite from the door they had entered was another single door and a barred window beside it to the right. The window itself was tall and very narrow. It was too thin for a normal sized person to fit their shoulders through, although it might have been possible for a member of a smaller race to squeeze through should they be on their side and find a way to remove the bars.
A woman sat on the opposite side of the window. “Can I help you folks today? Just so you know, Visitations are not allowed on a walk-in basis. They must be arranged ahead of time with the warden.”
Ischarus approached the window with confidence and smiled pleasantly at the woman. “Could you please tell Captain Jacobseille that the young man whose sword was taken by the city guard earlier in the day has come to clear his name and claim the sword back?”
The woman leaned forward in her chair so as to draw herself closer to the window. From her seat behind the bars she looked at Ischarus from head to toe and said, “Yes, I do believe that the captain has been expecting you. Can you wait for a moment while I go inform the captain that the one they have been waiting for has arrived?”
Ischarus nodded in the affirmative without saying a word. The woman slid off her chair and quickly walked away from the window and out of sight. The party could hear a door open and then slam freely behind her as she left her office area.
Everyone but Charis exchanged looks of anticipation. Rather than anticipating the next step in clearing Ischarus’ name, Charis was intrigued by the procedures and even the construction of the building so that safety was ensured. “Is this typical behavior, Semeion?” Charis asked out of her curiosity.
Semeion wrinkled his eyebrows in thought. “Not to my knowledge. I mean, it is pretty typical for the captains of the guard and the warden to have to be raised by other personnel, but I don’t like the way she phrased her words. They’ve been waiting for you, Ischarus.”
Ischarus could feel his palms began to sweat. The conversation they had earlier about vigilantism was not helping his thoughts at the moment. For that matter, neither was Semeion. “I noticed that too, Semeion. It didn’t sound right the way she said it. They’ve been waiting for me. I don’t like how she said more than the captain has been waiting.”
As he stood in the long and narrow entrance room, Ischarus felt a power growing in his chest. Actually, Ischarus felt as though he were beginning the initial stages of a heart attack. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his heart began to beat heavily. The more he thought about the woman’s speech the more his heart pounded in his chest. A feeling of warmth shot through his left arm and rested just below his wrists. He opened and closed his left hand several times to try and shake the feeling, but it was no use. The feeling was there to stay. His heart beat even harder.
Rhema noticed Ischarus’ sudden fidget with his hand. She slipped her own hand into the hand the hand that Ischarus was nervously fidgeting with and spoke with confidence. “Either way, Ischarus, we’re staying put. If they’ve been waiting for you then walking away does nothing. If you walk away now you appear to be guilty of something that you are not. If you and Semeion are simply having a problem with an overactive imagination then there is nothing to worry about.”
The door beside the window crashed open and five armed city guards poured out. They were armed and ready for a fight. Out of instinct Charis backed up and turned to the door leading to the outside. As she turned for the door, it also burst open and ten more guards poured in from the outside of the building. A man dressed in well kept leather armor and carrying a drawn falchion followed these ten guards in from the outside. The dress of the man told the party that this was the warden of the jail. The fact that the rest of the guards initially looked to him for a signal also demonstrated that he was in charge in this place.
By means of the inside door, two more men entered who were armed and armored better than the regular city guard. Ischarus and Rhema immediately recognized one of them as the guard chief they had met on the street earlier. The other one approached Ischarus. His own falchion was already drawn and leveled in the direction of Ischarus’ heart.
The man spoke as he approached Ischarus. “I understand from my chief that you are the owner of the sword he brought forth from an armed conflict earlier today. I am Captain Jacobseille and the man over there is Warden Farette. We are requesting that your friends leave your side and you come peacefully into the jail so we may discuss the events from earlier in the day.”
Semeion growled soft enough for Ischarus, Rhema, and Charis to hear, “I told you I didn’t like what the woman said.”
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