The Judgment Rests (closed)

“Order, order in the court!”

A short, fat man stood in the judge’s chair angrily waving a gavel as he tried to get everyone in the courtroom to sit down. His emerald eyes commanded the respect of everyone in the room, and soon the small crowd had settled down. Soon silence filled the room, and the judge spoke once more.

“Bring in the accused.”

The wide oaken double doors that led into the building creaked open and two men manhandled Vincent Cain down the center aisle of the court. His usual purple robes were tattered and dirty, his blonde hair was greasy and disheveled. His tanned skin was caked in dirt, mud, and blood and bruises. Despite his degraded state, the scholar’s sapphire eyes shone with defiance, and scanned the room looking to assess the situation.

The courthouse was small, one room with only about forty or so chairs for spectators to sit in. To the left of the judge sat seven people, four men, three women. To the right of the judge, three man sat at a desk glaring daggers at Vincent. Between the judge and the jury, was a simple desk with no one sat at it. The guards slammed the scholar onto a bench before the judge and cuffed both of his hands to his seat. There would be no funny business during court. The judge looked down at the mess of a man before him and scowled..

“Who beat him?”

There was a deathly silence in the room as the Judge rose to his feet. The scholar had not been nearly as bruised in his past appearance, and such cruelty would not stand in his court. When it was clear nobody would answer him, the judge sighed.

“Where is Mr. Cain’s lawyer?” he asked. His emerald eyes scanned the room for a moment. “He has the right to a fair trial, regardless of his crimes. He has the right not to be abused, but we’ve failed him there. So tell me, where the FUCK,” The judge slammed his gavel on the pulpit before him, “IS THE MAN’S LAWYER.” After a moment of shocked silence the prosecution rose from their seat.

“Your honor, there’s not a lawyer within three cities who would touch this man’s case with a ten foot pole. We were unable to find council for the accused. We put in a request to the capital for a state lawyer, but we have yet to hear back.” The man sat down and crossed one leg over the other. The crowd murmured slightly, of course such a heinous criminal would have a hard time finding help.

“Mr. Cain, you have a right to an attorney.” The judge rumbled as he sat down. “Do you wish to forfeit that right and represent yourself in the court of law?”

The scholar glanced from the prosecution, to the jury, to the judge. “Well your honor, first I would like to know what exactly I’m being accused of.” The entire court burst into a rage as people flew to their feet and began to screaming at the belligerent scholar.

“QUIET!” The judge thundered, silencing the crowd. It took a moment, but the beet faced judge managed to settle the courtroom with several bangs of his gavel.

“Mr. Cain, you stand accused of attempting to steal our sacred relic, the shield of the Aegis.” The judge declared. “How do you plead?” The scholar adjusted in his seat and looked the judge in the eye.

“To be fair your honor, I had no idea it was sacred.”

The heavy double doors were thrown open with a resounding thud. As the noise boomed in the small space, the congregation turned as one. Forty pairs of eyes rested on one lone figure, whose delicate appearance stood in stark contrast to her violent entrance. Layers of soft, cotton fabric, modest in their design and understated in their gray color, swirled about her feet as she took her first steps forwards. It was a high-necked, long-sleeved dress, leaving everything to the imagination, and no question as to her role in this particular production. The skirts whispered, the sound mimicking the hushed gasps of surprise that rippled through the onlookers, and her small heels clicked smartly as she approached the front of the room.

There, high atop his podium, the stubby man gaped down at the newcomer. He waited until she came to rest before him, and then addressed her with a simple, breathless word. "Letty?"

"Nicolette, please." She corrected him with the gentle ease of a parent scolding a child. Her tone was soft, yet steady, and though her slight smile was warm, her entire figure demanded respect.

The comment seemed to break the spell, and shatter the stillness that had befallen the room. "Nicolette, yes, of course," Judge Matao stammered. "I apologize." She lifted a gloved hand to assure him that there had been no insult, and he gave a shallow nod. Then, his confidence returning, he asked what everyone in the room was thinking. "Might I ask why you are here, miss Nicolette?"

"You may," she replied, but answered before he had the opportunity to. "I am here to represent Mister Cain."

There was a beat of silence, and then the room burst to life. Cries of concern, shouts of surprise, and questions of all type were barked in her direction. Patiently, the young lady waited until the judge could return the rambunctious room to order.

"Miss Nicolette," Mister Matao began again, "did you say that you were assigned to represent the thief?"

"Volunteered, and the accused, yes." There was no bite to her tone, or waver in her voice, but her golden eyes flashed. It was a slight response, but it was not lost on the man, whose chapped lips pursed as he gazed down his nose at her.

"Very well," he finally replied on a heavy sigh. When he spoke again, he addressed Vincent. "Are you satisfied with Miss Morgan as your council?"

Vince could hear the trumpets blaring as the cavalry came to his rescue in the form of a woman dressed like a schoolteacher. He observed the exchange, his sapphire eyes twinkling just a little bit with joy. While he was a capable scholar and adventurer, he was unfamiliar with this lands and its legal customs. He would have been walking blindly through a minefield. He waited for a moment, contemplating the iron cuffs that chaffed at his wrist. He was in the middle of musing how easy it would be to snap them when the judge addressed him once more.

“Say again?” he asked cocking his head to the side. “I was a little lost in thought for a moment.”

The judge glared at the scholar and let out a deep sigh. “I asked if you were satisfied with Miss Morgan as your council.” The scholar shot a glance at the woman and raised an eyebrow. She seemed to be someone with quite the reputation, so why would she stoop so low to help him out? He chewed his lip for a moment and shrugged.

“Sure, I don’t see why not. Miss Morgan seems more than capable of championing me in this legal battle.” He turned to face the judge and rattled his chains a bit. “I’m still not sure why I’m here though.”

The judge and jury sighed, clearly Vincent was on a fast track to getting on their nerves. “You are on trial for attempting to steal our sacred artifact” The judge explained. “We found you in the shrine, breaking the seals around it…”

“Allegedly,” Vince quipped. “Maybe I was doing a report on it and wanted to get a closer look? You can’t get within a stone’s throw distance without tripping a barrier or two…” The judge raised an eybrow as he leaned forward.

“Are you mocking me?” Matao asked, his face turning a deeper scarlet than before.

“Absolutely not, I have nothing but respect for the law. Hence why I surrendered without a fight and I’m sitting here…” the scholar shook his chains once more, “wearing these gaudy chains. Seriously? You couldn’t splurge for good steel?”

Her client was obnoxious, and his actions were rash and entirely inappropriate, given the circumstances. He showed little remorse, and even less respect for the system, despite his insistence otherwise. They had warned me about this. In the back of the young woman's mind, a small voice sang praise for the new challenge that lay before her.

"Mister Cain," Nicolette cautioned, moving so to position her small body between the scholar and the judge. This choreography was significant for a number of reasons. It represented her desire to protect the older man, and her willingness to place herself in harm's way should the need arise. But, in truth, it was mostly her attempt at hiding the man from Mateo's view. The stranger seemed hell-bent on ruffling the fat man's feathers, and it would be her responsibility to smooth them over once more. If she could keep the man's attention on her, she might have a chance.

When she spoke again, Nicolette addressed the judge. "Your honor," she began in even and commanding tones, "I motion to adjourn this case. Mister Cain was clearly misinformed, and there is no crime in that. Why waste the jury's time with such a trivial matter?"

Mateo merely blinked down at her. "Miss Morgan, are you joking?"

She sucked in a slow breath, and released it with a soft hiss. "Worth a try," she murmured, only loud enough for Vincent to hear. Then, louder, "alright, I would like to motion for a short recess."

"On what grounds?"

"My client only recently became aware of my involvement in his case. He has every right to confer with me, as do I to better understand his position." She spoke slowly, deliberately, and to those who paid attention, it was clear that she had rehearsed this line of reasoning many times. Since the moment she asked for his case, she had known that it would be a battle. That, paired with her desire to see the man freed, and her keen interest in him, was why she was there in the first place.

It was a compelling argument, even the squatty judge could not deny that. How could he possibly condemn a man to death without giving him time with his lawyer? They were small-town, but they were by no means savages. No, he could spare an afternoon. There would be plenty of time for justice after Vincent Cain had met with little Letty.

"You have two hours, Miss Morgan."

Her response came immediately after. "Your honor, that is not enough time."

Mateo's eyes narrowed, his hands gripping the edges of the podium as he pulled his mass closer to her. It was clear that respect for the woman was the only thing keeping his temper in check. "What, pray tell, would be adequate time?"

"Twenty four hours." Another well-scripted reply, and one that brought the judge's blood to a boil. With some humor, the young lady silently assessed the situation. She had worried about Vincent upsetting the man, yet here she was doing the feather-ruffling.

"Miss Morgan," Judge Mateo began through clenched teeth. "Are you planning to whisk your client to Corone and back during this recess?"

"If that's what is required of me," came the sharp retort, though her smile never wavered.

"Fine. But he stays here, in a cell." He was half-tempted to warn her against any funny business, but opted against the wrath that may invite him; her prominent family was not a group that Damion Mateo looked to pick a fight with.

"Of course."

"We will reconvene at noon tomorrow." One of the judge's hands raked through his thinning hair, and the other banged the gavel sharply against the desk. He did not offer another word as he pushed back, stood from his chair, and hurried from the room. His haste, Nicolette assumed, stemmed from his desire to distance himself from her. But there was no need for his statement, as the room already roared with the spectators' commentary.

Nicolette paid them no mind as she turned to her client. A bailiff hovered just behind her as she asked, "shall we?"

Vince watched as the woman did battle with the judge. She did not wield a blade, but her tongue was every bit as sharp. She matched wit with the fat, balding judge who seemed to fear her more than a venomous snake. A smug grin played across his lips as he watched her gain inch after inch in their verbal tug of war, until she had taken everything the judge could stand to yield. The court was adjurned for a day, and Vince found himself grinning as the lawyer approached him again.

“Shall we?” She asked.

“It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.” The scholar replied shaking his chains. He rose to his feet and the bailiff growled at him. It appeared the presence of this new woman had put everyone on edge. She seemed rather well to do, an carried an heir of nobility about her. Something about the way she walked, the way she talked, reminded him of his brief experiences with the elven nobility. Making that jump made him shudder slightly. The guard walked them back out of the courthouse into the summer afternoon sun, its golden light bathing them gently as they walked. All around children seemed to scamper about playing games and enjoying their youth. The crowd had abated quickly, but those who had lingered would occasionally jeer something nasty at the scholar.

Their walk was a long one, the courthouse had been built long after the jail, and thus due to poor urban planning, had ended up on the other side of town. Chaeshire and its people were the closest thing Vince had found to Europeans on Althanas. The buildings were relatively simple, and the people were mostly human and fair of skin. The roads were mostly dirt, however three main roads ran to and through the small town of Stonebrook. One lead straight to the capital, one led to the largest port in the small nation, and the other lead through the nearby mountain range. Above, the mountains loomed with the days rain already beginning to form in thick clouds. Come sunset, the water would pour down and water the crops.

When they reached the jail, the bailiff opened a cell and gestured for the two to enter. Vince led the charge into the unfurnished room and took a seat in the corner where he’d been staying before his little jaunt to the court. Once he’d sat down, and the lawyer had entered, the bailiff closed the cell and glared at the scholar.

“No funny business.” He growled. “You so much as lay a finger on her, and I’ll make you wish you were dead…” Vince raised an eyebrow mockingly.

“Why the fuck would I hurt the one woman trying to keep me alive?” he asked cocking his head to one side. “That seems like the worst plan ever.” With that he turned to Nicolette.

“Can I get you anything? Wine perhaps? A smooth brandy or ale?” he teased.

His blue eyes found and held hers, twinkling with good-natured humor. Her gaze, on the other hand, remained unreadable. It was not until the man pulled a flask from gods-knew-where that her eyes hardened. "Mr. Cain, please," she snapped, voice cold steel. "You forget yourself."

This seemed to get the man's attention. Startled, he blinked up at her, lips plunging into a frown before opening with a baffled, "huh?"

"I wonder if you're aware of just how much trouble you're in." Angry was not the word to describe her. In fact, to an observer, she appeared calm and collected. Her pale cheeks showed no trace of crimson, and her hands were still neatly clasped behind her. It was her eyes, the most expressive part of her, that told the true story. Though they shimmered with specks the color of stars, the storm that raged within them was anything but tranquil. Her voice dealt the lashes her eyes promised. "Because, I assure you, this is no laughing matter."

In the time it took her to speak, Vincent had found his own words. He had also stowed the flask back in his jacket, determining that it probably did more harm than good. "I'm aware," he countered, hardening slightly under her gaze. He was growing defensive, he recognized immediately, but it was difficult not to. That glare packed a punch.

"You might have fooled me."

The scholar's mind, with all its vast wisdom, could not formulate a sentence. At least, one that would make sense, given the situation. So instead, he simply shrugged. "What do you want me to do about it?"

Nicolette moved to respond, but was promptly interrupted by the sharp crack of a door being flung wide. An imposing figure blocked the sunlight that streamed into the dimly lit jailhouse. His broad shoulders nearly filled the doorframe, and he had to duck slightly to enter, doing so with the familiar clink of armor. Long strides, and the heavy thud of boots, carried him to the cell where Nicolette and Vince resided. Though his gaze remained fixed on the woman, the question he barked was directed toward the bailiff. "What is she doing in there? Why are you locking her up?"

The bailiff, reeling from shock and confusion, began to shout back his own haphazard explanation. It was not until Nicolette herself spoke that the pair fell quiet.

"Xander, please." Gone was the harshness, the cold, and the sting. In fact, Vincent struggled to find any sign that it had existed in the first place. There was only warmth and kindness now, in her tone, and in those golden eyes. "I'm fine. They haven't locked me in here, I'm merely meeting with Mr. Cain. It is nothing to be worried about." Again, "I'm fine."

As if to prove her point, she moved to the bars, reaching her hands toward him. Quickly, and none too gracefully, he hurried to her. Though his hands were hidden by heavy gauntlets, he cupped hers with painstaking gentleness. "I didn't know where you'd gone," he continued, voice choked a bit with emotion. Unlike Nicolette, Xander was not gifted with the ability to mask his feelings; his entire face was lined with concern. "Letty, I didn't know where you were."

"We went out the back," she answered softly. "I'm so sorry, I should have told you."

At this, the man shook his head. "No, don't apologize. I should have been paying more attention. I should have-" His voice trailed as his gaze, for the first time, moved to Vincent. "Are you safe?" He spoke the words to the woman, and made no effort to hide them from her client.

She nodded. "I'm safe. He's a bit slow, perhaps, but not dangerous." Yet even as she spoke the words, she knew he was not slow at all. In fact, knowledge mixed with humor in those blue eyes, and perhaps that was what frustrated her the most. "Xander, this is Vincent Cain." Now was as good a time for introductions as any. "Mr. Cain, this is Xander. He is my friend, and my escort."

Xander gave a small nod. He was still wary, that much was certain. But if Letty said Vincent Cain was safe, he would mind his manners. "Nice to meet you," he murmured.

The scholar eyed the spectacle of the man entering with mild amusement. Nostrils flaring, he adjusted slightly and returned his drink back to his pocket dimension quietly. The woman had the patience of a saint, and was an expert at masking her emotions.

Her eyes betrayed her though.

The portals to her soul spoke of her anger, of the frustration she felt towards his non chalance. The corners of his mouth upturned into a grin.

It was rare he got to meet someone new, nowadays all he did was paperwork and kissing ass in the elven court. Here he could cut loose, to play all sorts of fun mind games and verbal tricks. He ran her words over in his mind as he absently ran a hand through his messy golden locks.

"Escort?" he asked, a mischeivious grin playing across his face. "Whats his rate? Does he bat for both teams?" a chuckle escaped his lips as he raised his hands up in a calming gesture.

"Kidding of course." he quipped cracking his neck. "I like to diffuse tension with shitty jokes." His eyes sized up Xander, who probably wasnt happy at being called a whore.

"So what's the plan? Give me the four one one..."

The knight's eyes widened, before immediately narrowing. The daggers he shot were as sharp as the words he spoke, and struck with just as much force. "How dare you," he snarled, the panic that had plagued him evaporating as a new emotion warmed his cheeks. Though much of the comment had been lost on Xander - what did batting for a team mean? - the main intent rang loud and clear. "I am a royal knight of Caershire, for gods sake." And he did not need to bother with such a pitiful man. "Come on, Letty," he continued, now addressing his friend. "Leave that cell. He can rot here."

"Xander, now that sort of talk is below you," the girl replied, her words reflecting the same gentleness with which he held her hands. "You are better than that."

"He questioned my honor!"

"Add that to his ever-growing list of misdeeds. But you will not stoop to his level." Her voice, and her mannerisms, lacked none of the kindness she had exhibited upon his entrance. Yet there was a finality to them that hung heavy, and was ultimately enough to make the knight nod.

"You're right, Letty. Of course you're right." With an exasperated sigh, Xander raked his hands through his dark hair. "Do you want me to go?"

Nicolette returned the man's offer with an appreciative smile. "I think that would be best. Would you take the bailiff with you?"

The bailiff, who already felt a bit like he was losing control of his own operation, balked. "I have to watch the prisoner."

It was Xander who answered him. "Miss Morgan can handle herself. And we'll be just outside." The last bit had been spoken for Nicolette's benefit, and she was grateful for his understanding as she watched him lead the bailiff out.

"So," Vince quipped from behind her, drawing the single word out. "Royal, eh? Are you a princess or something?"

The question went ignored as Nicolette rounded on Vincent once more, this time, without any witnesses. "Time for you to tell me why you did it," she stated simply. If the man had anything to share, and she suspected he did, he was running out of time to do so.

Vince watched silently as the two men left before he opened his mouth to speak, and when he did he sounded like a completely different man. His smile faded, all sense of playfulness vanished.

"Because that sheild belongs to my family." he stated bluntly.

He reached into his robe and pulled out a crystal and set it between them. He looked up at her and tapped it. Visions sparked to life and filled the room with light and sound.

They were sitting in the middle of a battlefeild watching an army of shadowy figures all charging forward to meet a massive dragon man seemingly made of stone. In one hand he swung a massive blade that parted the sea of black with ease. The other hand bore a single damascus gauntlet covered in intricate ruins. Everytime he clenched his fist a sheild of crimson appeared to block every blow.

"The Aegis of Strength," Vince stated solumnly. "A long time ago this ancient relic was forged by my ancestors with a single purpose, to serve and protect the peace." he paused for a moment

"My clan goes into hiding for hundreds of years at a time, and at some point your people absconded with our artifact." he picked the crystal up and the visions vanished in an instant. "And then they have the nerve to call me theif."

There was a brief moment where Nicolette was left awe-struck. The small cell transformed into a raging battle, horses galloping past her so closely that she longed to reach out and touch them. Shouts, muted and distant, told a story of a well-organized operation plunging into chaos. Her gaze followed the passing horses, their hooves thundering against densely packed earth as they stormed their opponent. Said figure was enormous, dwarfing both the men and their steeds. Mighty wings unfolded from his back, and a thick tail swatted angrily, like that of an irate cat. And more unusual still, rough edges and soft gray hues gave the impression that the figure was carved of stone. It was enough to leave the young woman both breathless and speechless.

Yet as Vincent began his speech, as grand a tale as the illusions that filled the space, Nicolette felt the spell losing its hold on her. He told a dramatic story of a family heirloom, created solely to protect the innocent. There was a mysterious clan that hid from the world for generations. Then, for good measure, there was a "thief" statement meant to tug on her heartstrings. Though the fanciful scene still unfurled around her, her attention was only for Vincent now.

It was merely the fantastic show that her swept her up, she concluded. Magic was outlawed in many parts of Salvar, but some of it had still leaked to the region's outskirts, where Caershire was located. Theodore Henry Langdon, Boyar of Caershire, was even a bit fond of it, so Nicolette had been exposed to such spectacles before. In fact, she had seen better magic. And she had heard more convincing lies.

"Mr. Cain." The words she delivered were flat, dulled by disappointment and creeping annoyance. His entire personality had shifted from easy nonchalance to rigid seriousness in the blink of an eye. He may have intended for this to impress her, and convince her that he was now ready for business, but it did quite the opposite. It painted Vincent Cain as a superficial, wishy-washy man who would not tell the truth when his life literally hung in the balance. As the only woman who had a chance at saving him, it came as a bit of an insult.

"That is certainly an interesting story," she continued, traces of a frown finally creasing her brow, "but I was more interested in the truth."

“The truth?” Vincent asked cocking his head to one side. “Or a story that fits better with your own preconception of what’s going on.” His eyebrows arched as he held his cuffed hands before him. “I’ve told you the truth Madame, my clan has been at this sort of thing for thousands of years. We’ve always watched, always waited, and now we need that shield.” He shook his chains, the heavy links rattling loudly. His mind flashed to the giant, John Cromwell, and how he would have ripped through the bindings with ease. He thought about making his own daring escape, but something bid him to stay his hand. There had to be a way to solve this the right way, without an unnecessary show of force.

The Tarot had enough problems on its plate as it was.

“How can I possibly prove to you that I’m not lying?” His eyes met hers, attempting to show her how truly sincere he was. “I could show you how the damn thing is supposed to be used for instance, instead of that horrible jerry rigged barrier you’re using it for.” He paused for a moment, realization dawning on him. “What do you guys even have sealed behind there anyways?” His mind turned over the reactions of the villagers in the courtroom, of how he’d been treated, and everything clicked into place. They were scared. His fists clenched for a moment as he realized he’d almost made a big mistake, possibly carelessly releasing some ancient evil from an ancient seal.

Exasperation threatened to reveal itself, and as if to stop its escape, the woman lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Mister Cain," she started again on a heavy breath. "I would urge you to remember the situation that you are in. It may appear a jerry-rigged barrier to you, but to those people out there," she motioned with her free hand, "it is the only thing standing between them and their deaths." There was a brief pause, but she could not keep from adding, "much the same way as I stand between you and yours."

There was a silence now, and whether Vincent was truly understanding the gravity of her words, or merely waiting for her to continue, Nicolette was unsure. But it did allow her the precious moment that she needed to compose herself. When she spoke again, her voice was measured, but the carefully selected words still hung heavy between them. "You're asking me to tell a judge, a jury, and an entire town that their prized possession does not belong to them. And this is on the authority of some mysterious, omnipotent group who has waited in the shadows for centuries." She had intended to appear detached. Yet, even as the words left her lips, the blonde felt them turn downward in a deep frown. "You must understand how ridiculous that sounds."

The quiet that lingered was broken only by the hushed whisper of her skirts, swirling about her ankles as she moved closer to the cell's barred door. Just past it lay a window, faded by time and a fine layer of dust. The people beyond the glass moved back and forth, their figures blocking the sun, though it was difficult to make out specific details. In a way, that was how the young woman saw the people of the small, rural town. Though she did not know each individually, she saw them as a collective, innocents who needed protection just as badly as Vincent Cain did. The parallels between this place and the working-class towns of Caershire were too glaring to ignore. Perhaps that was yet another reason why she had been so eager to represent the scholar.

"These people," she commented slowly, "believe that an ancient demon lurks in the cave. And they believe in the protection that the object grants them. They are afraid, and I will not mock their fears by sharing your story."

The scholar listened to the woman’s voice intently as she spoke. It appeared he had managed to rattle her a bit, breaking the façade she had seemed to have donned. He’d not heard of any demons in this area, it was far too far north of Haidia for it to be possible. Salvar was Denebrial’s turf, he doubted any sane spawn of the demon queen to have willingly come up here. It was her last words that truly struck home with the scholar, however.

“Afraid.” The word left his lips in barely a whisper. He clenched his fists tightly and gritted his teeth. He’d been a damn fool, rushing off halfcocked not thinking about the consequences, after all, fate hadn’t warned him of any possible pitfalls retrieving this artifact would bring. He’d almost made a drastic mistake. He spent several moments in silence watching the woman as he thought things through. There was no way he was leaving here without the Aegis, that wasn’t an option, but he couldn’t simply take it and unleash some ancient evil on the town either.

“I happen to be a bit of an expert on monsters and magic Ma’am.” Vince spoke after a while. “Perhaps we could make a deal perhaps?” He stretched for a moment and continued. “If you allow me access to your archives I could do some research into this creature and what it may or may not be. Armed with that info you can drop the barrier and leave me to kill it! I’ve fought with incredibly powerful foes…” He paused for a moment and sensing the woman wouldn’t believe him, he held his hands up and wiggled his wrists.

“I can prove my strength if need be…”

His offer hung in relative silence as the young woman mulled it over. Her initial reaction was to deny his request, but some of that was surely due to the frustration that still warmed her pale cheeks. He was an unusual man, and nothing about the situation thus far had been what she had expected. Without the sobbing and remorseful client, and the cut-and-dry verdict, this was unlike anything she was used to. Perhaps, she mused silently, such a case required an equally unusual approach. And was there anything to lose?

"Alright," she conceded finally, her voice soft, and uncertain. Her expression was equally soft, and equally uncertain. "I do not need any display of your strength." There was a pause, before she added, "but I do need one thing from you. I need you to swear that you will be mindful of these people, and their traditions. You may not fear this demon, or even believe that it exists. But they do, and you are on their soil." Vincent's mouth opened, an excuse ripe on his lips, but it died as Nicolette lifted a gloved hand. "They are good, gods-fearing people. They deserve respect. Can you do that?"

The man, now uncharacteristically quiet, merely nodded. Now, a ghost of a smile, as delicate as the woman herself, whispered across her lips. "I appreciate that, Mister Cain. Now, I doubt that we will have any luck having you released to the library. I imagine the community feels better with you behind bars, which severely limits the work that we will be able to accomplish. However, I would be willing to secure a couple of texts myself, and bring them to you. Would that be sufficient?"

"Sure," Vince replied with a small shrug. There were few other options, from the looks of things. "Whatever works."

Satisfied with the man's answer, Nicolette moved to fetch the books. Xander, who insisted she be escorted, joined her on the search. The city was by no means large, but it had a haphazard layout that left the pair turned around more than once. Each pebble-littered dirt road seemed to mirror another, and the nearly identical buildings offered no further clues as to their whereabouts. When Xander finally broke down and asked a passing child where the library was, they were directed to a small, indistinct structure. Inside, once their eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting, they found an eclectic collection of tables, benches, and shelves, piled with an array of dusty tomes.

"This is a far cry from Caershire," Xander muttered, one gauntleted hand swiping at a low-hanging cobweb just before he walked into it. And it was very different from the royal library, with its high, sweeping ceilings, grand fireplace, and shelves upon shelves of books (arranged alphabetically, of course).

"It's charming," came Letty's response, though more of habit than truth. Her own brow was furrowed with thought, and a touch of disapproval. "But I do fear that we have quite a task ahead of us. It will take a bit of time to locate the appropriate books."

The knight nodded his agreement. "Just anything that mentions demons? Or the town history in general."

"I suppose that is the best place to start, yes."

As they often do, the minutes spent in the library passed unnoticed, as both the girl and her best friend became lost in the dark, dusty stacks. Though they had intended to merely glance at the titles of the various volumes, the temptation to pry back the covers and begin reading had overwhelmed them both. By the time the blonde had surfaced, a handful of hours had passed.

"What did you find?" came Nicolette's inquiry as she moved to Xander's side.

Without glancing up from his reading, he murmured, "everything."

Nicolette beamed. "Yes, so did I. But were you able to narrow down your findings?"

The dark-haired man rolled his broad shoulders, working out the kinks he had earned himself. "A few," he answered, closing his current book with a sharp crack, and scooping two more into his arms.

"Me too," she informed him, holding up two tomes of her own. "Let us get back, then. Mister Cain is probably wondering what happened to us."

"Perhaps he assumed we left town," Xander quipped, holding open the door for Letty. "I would not blame him for thinking as much. And I would not blame us for running."

A wry smile twisted the teenager's lips as she dipped under his arm, unsure as to whether his words were in jest. If she had to guess, she would say no.

The duo found Vincent twiddling his thumbs idly as they were allowed back into his holding cell. He motioned for them to stop with his manacled hands, and then gestured to the floor before them. In the dust, map of the town and the outlying land features had been expertly drawn up. Every street and building was accounted for, every tiny detail was to scale and perfectly accurate.

“It seems you got lost…” Vince quipped with a slight grin. “So I drew you a map.” He rose to his feet and held out his hands greedily at the sight of the tomes in their hands however. Surely he would be able to find something of use. The man he perceived to be her butler moved to hand him the tomes, and Vince found that his chains were restraining him from extending his arms far enough to fully grasp them. Without a second thought he wrenched his hands apart snapping the thick iron chain with ease. He took the books from the manservant and retreated back to his corner, ignoring the shocked expressions of all in attendance.

“If I was going to do something dumb, I would have done it hours ago.” He quipped cracking open the first tome. Chewing his lower lip, the scholar quickly flipped through the pages lost in his own little world, drowning out his two companions. It seems the most of the texts they’d brought were fables and myths from the surrounding area. While rather riveting, it wasn’t really anything truly academic. With his enhanced reading speed, Vincent finished the first book in a matter of minutes. Opening the other one, he quickly isolated the information about the great dragon of Caeshire, and the massive knight known as the Aegis.

According to the text, ages ago upon the founding of Caeshire, a massive dragon had erupted from the mines below and wreaked havoc on the land. It’s rule was long and horrible, until a knight clad from head to toe with armor of stone came from the south to put an end to the foul creature. This man came armed with a massive sword the size of three average men, and a shield made of light itself. The battle was long and destructive, causing the very mountains to form apparently. When it seemed like the knight had managed to best the dragon, the foul beast landed one sneak blow sundering the man’s armor. Injured, the knight struck the dragon down and threw its body into a massive cave, sealing it with his shield. The king of Caeshire rose to offer him the nation’s best medics, but the knight simply walked away, still bleeding from his wounds. No one knows this man’s name, or if he had fallen to his injuries.

The scholar closed his eyes, and for a moment his whole world reeled. Suddenly he wasn’t locked in a cell, but on top of the world. No… on top of someone’s shoulders? A booming laugh filled the air as the world seemed to sway with every step.

“Worry not little Cain, I will always stand in front of you.”

Just as quickly as the vision had come, Vince was back in the cell with the other two staring at him curiously. Tears seemed to be streaming down his face, but he had no reason why. Only one thing seemed to escape his lips.

“Moxxilus…” He paused. “The Aegis Knight…his name was…Moxxilus.” He absently lifted a hand to wipe the tears from his eyes and paused confused. Why did he know this? Why was he sad? What the fuck had he just seen?

Nicolette observed the young man, her expression passive, but her eyes dark with frustration. Again and again, the scholar performed grand tricks to impress and stun his small audience. There had been no need for him to trace a map in the dust, yet he had. There was no purpose in his shattering his bindings, but he did, with great flourish. Though the demonstration had the desired effect on Xander, it only chipped away at her already thin patience. Not only was he wasting time, he was making a complete joke of what it was Nicolette hoped to accomplish. And that, she had very little tolerance for.

As such, she remained stone-faced as Vincent picked his way through the dusty volume. Even when his body began to tremble, she did not waver from her place at the cell's entrance. Xander gave small sound of concern, glancing back and forth between his young companion, and their most unusual charge. "Letty," he murmured, "what's happening?"

"The finale, I suspect," came her answer. It was dry, and carried an edge that startled Xander nearly as much as the strange scene before him. It was his worry for his childhood friend that pulled his attention from Vincent Cain, and only when the man spoke did Xander turn back to him. Letty, on the other hand, had regarded the whole performance with a sort of annoyed disinterest.

"Moxxilus," she repeated, then shook her head. "I do not know that name." Then, "how, precisely, is this meant to help us?"

Recognizing that the two others were still largely in the dark, Vince quickly filled them in on what he had read. Though he spoke quickly, his expert showmanship still prompted him to weave the most dramatic tale possible. His hands and eyes were expressive as he spoke of wars, dragons, and a great hero. By the end, Xander appeared entirely engrossed. Nicolette was far less-so.

"The beast," Mister Cain concluded finally, "is most likely the dragon. I'll just take care of it, and then they'll let me go." He closed the book with a dull thud, and swiped at the last of the tears that remained.

Nicolette heaved a small sigh. "Tomorrow," she stated simply. "Night was falling as we walked here, and from the looks of things, it has settled in." She gave a nod toward one of the small windows. "If there is to be any dragon slaying, it will take place in the daylight."

The prisoner looked a bit like he would argue, but then he thought better of it. His hands, which still wore the cuffs of the now-shattered restraints, went to his hips. "Fine," he agreed, though he did nothing to hide his displeasure.

The room's lone woman did a far better job of hiding hers, her lips still a level line, her brows still relaxed. But by now, her amber eyes rolled with all the intensity of a tropical storm. "Xander," she started suddenly, "would you mind waiting for me outside? I'll be out shortly." There it was again, that foreign edge in the young advisor's tone. In the countless years he had known her, he had only witnessed it a few times. It warned of impending doom, and he knew better than to argue with her in such a state.

He gave his own warning. "Be safe." It was one that they had exchanged since childhood, whenever they had to part for one reason or another. Often, it brought Nicolette comfort, but he felt no change in the air. In fact, it seemed even harder to breathe than before as he finally let himself out the front door.

Once alone, Nicolette turned to Vincent. Her voice was still blisteringly formal, but all pretense of caution was gone. "Who are you?" she demanded. "And why are you here?" Her gaze narrowed, and a lithe finger jabbed at the doorway. "You could have gone whenever you wanted, as you have made clear on many occasions. If you were simply here to cheat these people out of their most prized possession, you would have taken it already. The fact that you have chosen to remain here makes a mockery of myself, this town, and everything that I believe in."

Only then did she take a step toward him. She did not yell, or raise her voice. In fact, anyone observing might think she was merely telling him about an interesting bit of gossip she had heard. But her tone, and her eyes, spoke volumes. "You have danced around the topic more than once, but I feel I deserve the truth."

Vince looked at the woman for a moment as she railed against him. He’d gotten under her skin it appeared, although it was hard to tell. She was calm, composed, and stern. For a moment he couldn’t help but think of his old boss, Leona Stevvains. The Judgement card had been just as stern, and had just as little patience for his shenanigans. He chewed his lips for a moment as he contemplated how to go about doing this. She jabbed her finger at him, and that was the final straw. Rolling his eyes the scholar began to focus on a bit of a surprise as he spoke.

“Did the judge not tell you my name?” He scoffed half-jokingly. As he took a step towards her. “I am Vincent Cain,” he paused and then smirked. “Lord Emperor of the Tarot Hierarchy.” He raised a hand and suddenly a blue portal erupted behind the woman. “Walk with me for a moment.” He declared as he gave her a soft, yet solid, push. The woman stumbled back into the portal, and Vincent followed suit, crossing the portal with ease as the two found themselves on a dimply lit balcony. The soft crash of waves against the shore filled the air alongside the gentle scent of seasalt. To their left the duo could see the teeming lights of Beinost’s “nightlife”. Men and women scurried up and down the main road, torches and lanterns in hand as they went about their various chores. The docks were bustling as sailors unloaded and loaded various goods and tools, preparing for the next day’s duties. The scholar snapped, and with a gesture brought two chairs sliding towards them, Nicollet’s hitting the back of her legs and dropping her into her seat forcibly.

“You’re right.” He grunted as he shrugged. “I could very well have just left at any time. I could have teleported out like I just did, I could have snatched the artifact and ran, for fucks sake I could have slaughtered that entire town. I could have burnt it to the ground and salted it’s fields before your people even knew what monstrous enemy they were facing.” He reclined for a moment and snapped his fingers, bringing a glass of wine to his hands. “But I didn’t.” He took a sip and savored it for a moment before beginning to speak again.

“Because I’m not a monster, and that wouldn’t have satisfied my goals.” He paused for a moment to let this all sink in. “You might think me terribly rude, maybe even a bit blunt, but if you take anything away from this conversation, it should be that I am not your enemy. In fact, I’m not even a threat to you or your people.” He took another sip and let out an audible sigh. “Would you like a glass?” He asked cocking his head to the side a bit. He waved his free hand a bit and dragged a small wicker end table over to the woman with a wave of his hand, snapped to make another glass appear, and then gently floated it over to the newly positioned table.

“This is the part where I bore the shit out of you with the details, but please do try to keep up because there is a quiz at the end.” He shot her a bit of a grin and then swirled the wine in his glass. “But first, I need to figure out where to start…” his voice trailed off for a minute and then he nodded to himself, as if he’d answered his own question. “Do you ever stop and find your situation…unique? Ms. Morgan?” He asked tapping his feet gently. “I mean after all, how could a commoner end up the adopted daughter or a very prestigious advisor?” He took another sip of his wine and then smiled. “It’s quite the twist of…Fate wouldn’t you say? You’ve been elevated into a position far above the status of your birth, but for what means?” He sat forward and ran a free hand through his hair, “You’ve risen to this challenge. I’ve done my homework, and the fact that you came to the aid of the most hated man in a town hellbent on hanging him is more than enough proof I needed.” He didn’t bother explaining how he knew all of this, it looked better to seem like some mysterious stranger, not some goofball stalker who had done way too much homework.

“Nicolette Morgan, History has its eyes on you.”

The scholar let that sink in for a moment before he began his monologue once more. “Fate has plans for you, plans far more grandiose than you could possibly imagine.” He paused for a moment and grinned. “Im beating around the bush still, let me explain myself.” He rose from his seat and downed the rest of his drink before causing it to vanish into cloud of sparks. “I lead a group of…eccentric individuals. We’ve existed since time itself, created by the creators of the world with one mission. We’ve watched from the shadows, serving and protecting the very balance of the world. Guided by the hands of fate, we seek out the power of Fate’s chosen. The shepherds of this world.” He turned back to the seated woman.

“People like you, Ms. Morgan.” He shrugged for a moment and leaned against the marble guardrail, raising an eyebrow at the woman before him. She was only a matter of years younger, but he felt some much older than her. “The world is in a tumultuous state right now. As we speak the people of Raiaera are preparing to fight for their lives.” He motioned over to the city, to all the people burning the midnight oil as they worked desperately to complete their tasks. “Their home was pillaged and corrupted by the evils of a man who chose to abuse the very gifts the creators gave us to build marvels. Instead, he chose to use it to make abominations.” The scholar scowled. “We failed this land once, but we will not fail again.” He turned and locked eyes with the young noblewoman. “There is so much wrong with the world, it is scarred by the monstrous actions of people who chose to walk a path of chaos and wreak havoc on this land. They have stood unchallenged for too long.” He took a deep breath.

“But I’m off track.”
He pushed away from the railing and began to walk towards the woman. “Fate shows me visions…it nominates people for me to investigate. It picks people who it thinks will help me in my task.” He pointed to her and grinned. “Fate picked you, Ms. Morgan. You’re the reason I came to Caeshire, the reason I caused such a ruckus, the reason I was lying in wait. All I had to do was wait and you came running. He crossed his arms and chuckled. “Although, it’s not the craziest thing I’ve had to do to gain an audience with someone who fate had chosen.” The scholar shook his head and began once more. “All of this has been to get you here, to have this talk. The world needs your help, more than you could ever know. While you might not think it, you have the potential to shape history. Not the boring shit some old man will prattle on to your descendants in some stuffy classroom. No, I’m talking about the sort of stuff bards will sing about, the sort of tale that people will build statues about, the sort of tale people will toast for generations.” He paused for a moment and sighed. “But I guess it’s quiz time…will you help me? Will you help guide the world? I have no doubt given the level of patience you’ve displayed thus far, your control and your tact is just what we need.” He held out his hand.

“Ms. Morgan, do not throw away your shot.”

"I am sorry, but I simply cannot."

Vincent gaped back at the young woman, caught entirely off-guard by her response. It had been so unexpected that he needed to hear it again. "What?"

She repeated herself. "I cannot."

Nicolette had a remarkable ability to mask her emotions. But so did Vincent. Annoyance churned his stomach, but his expression remained unreadable. "Can't," he asked, his voice measured, "or won't."

The scholar prided himself on his showmanship, Nicolette had no doubt. She also suspected that he was used to getting his way. "I cannot," she told him a third time.

All his flashy words, his zeal, wasted with those two words. Vince's hands balled into fists at his sides. "You don't believe me," he accused.

The blonde shook her head. "It is not a matter of belief, Mr. Cain."

"Vincent," he cut in sharply, but she continued as if she had not heard.

"It is a simple matter of time. I have very little of it, and I cannot commit to you time that I do not possess. I have none at all to spare."

Vincent's jaw worked as he watched her. "Did you not hear me?" he asked finally. "The work you'll be doing will change the world. It could save it! What else do you have to do? What could you possibly think is more important than that?"

"Perhaps I am short-sighted," the girl replied slowly, "but I believe that my first responsibility is to the people of Caershire."

That finally shook the man. Exasperated, he threw up his hands. "Working with the Tarot will help them. It will help everyone. Don't you see that?"

Nicolette's hands clasped behind her back, once again a picture of control and grace. Vincent knew he had lost her even before she spoke. "What I see," she began, her voice terse, "is passion. I can respect such things, surely, but I cannot help you."

He said nothing, so she spoke again. "Please," she stated. "Take me back." It was the first thing she had said about the magical journey they had embarked on. Intending to show her the world, to show her what she could have, Vincent had used his magic with reckless abandon. But all it had done was unnerve the woman.

He did so.

And just in time for Xander to open the door. "Letty," he said timidly, clearly worried he was interrupting. "I apologize, Letty, but the town is as quiet as it will ever be. If we still plan to move, it must be soon."

The scholar's frown deepened into a scowl. "Move?" he echoed. "You are leaving?"

"We all are," she answered, though without the mischievous glint in her eye you might expect in someone springing another from jail. She did not consider it breaking the law, as she had every intention of marching Mr. Cain straight back to his holding cell when the deed was done. There was also the simple fact that he could break out whenever he chose, something he was not quick to let her forget. "We had an arrangement, did we not?"

He considered her words for a moment, then nodded. "I guess we did, yeah. We are going to the cave then?"

Letty nodded, swinging the cell door out wide for him. "You assured us you would be able to slay the demon."

"I remember," he countered, still stinging just a bit from her rejection. But he had a job to do. "What about the jailor?"

Xander gave a sheepish smile, his cheeks warming. "I told him there was a commotion on the other side of town. He is not especially bright, but I do not suspect I bought us more than a few minutes to get out."

Despite the suffocating tension that hung thick in the room, Letty had to smile. That was, very likely, the meanest thing she had heard the knight say about another individual. "Off we go then."

To say the town was dead silent would be an understatement. As the trio slunk about, sticking to back streets and narrow alleys to avoid prying eyes, Vincent could have sworn he could hear his own heartbeat. Vincent Cain was public enemy numbers one, and it would suit the group to avoid a lynch mob right about now.

After all, they needed to prove his innocence.

Occasionally a crow would caw, breaking the silence and causing the three to pause, sticking to the shadows, ears trained for the sound of anyone moving. With each passing moment Vince felt more and more sure that the guard was about to stumble into their empty cell, that the alarm was going to go off, that this whole thing would be a waste of time.

But it didn’t.

The trio had managed to make it out of the city proper without incident. No alarms, no prying eyes, no stupid guards. Vincent felt rather chuffed honestly. He’d rather wanted to see the young woman’s plans go up in smoke. After all, she’d ruined his entire plan in coming here. Even the best laid plans of fate and it’s servants can be thwarted with a simple no. One response had sent the entire future that had been laid before him reeling end over end, entire events reworking themselves to lack Nicolette’s inclusion. The resulting headache brewing would drive Vincent to drinking within the next few nights, he could already tell.

“It’s just over the hill here…” The knight called out, sure they wouldn’t be overheard.

“I’m aware?” Vince replied cocking his head to the side slightly. “I mean, this is where they caught me trying to steal the damn thing in the first place.”

The resulting dirty look from his two companions shut Vince up slightly. They seemed unamused by his antics, unawed by his showmanship, and completely immune to his bombastic bravado. They were smarter than the average Salvarian, that was for sure.

The group arrived at the top of the hill and found themselves standing in some strange sort of shrine, a simple stone plaza of sorts with a lone plinth standing at its center. Countless sigils and runes seemed to glow a soft yellow as they ran circles around the seeming focus in it’s center. Atop the plinth, a simple circlet was mounted carefully in the clutches of an ivory claw. The scholar found his eyes focusing down the hill as he found the cave this shrine was sealing. A barrier of solid gold, bearing the ever familiar roman numerals “XI.”

Stregnth…

Moxxilus.

The name rang through his head for a moment, evoking some strange emotion in him. Something he couldn’t seem to place, which was odd for a myriad of reasons. For starters, Vincent had never heard of or met the supposed knight before. The man had lived and died thousands of years ago, and if he had, why would he just now be remembering?

The knight and his ward waited hesitantly outside the shrine as Vincent entered. Each rune glowed a soft shade of blue as he approached the plinth, as if the magic within them was reacting to the magic that seemed to compose his own body. He reached out gently and placed his hands on the small band, sliding his fingers to where the ivory claw was grasping it.

“Careful now…” he muttered to himself as he took a deep breath. Exhaling, the scholar yanked the band out of the ivory claws clutch in one swift, fluid, motion. The ivory claw glared a bright red color and snatched shut on empty air, crackling with energy as the whole shrine seemed to vibrate ever so slightly. The runes beneath his feet crackled and sparked angrily, flashing red before snuffing out entirely. Vincent’s eyes shot to the barrier as it crackled for a moment in some vain attempt to sustain itself before fizzling from existence.

“Well.” Vincent called out turning to look at his audience. “Let’s go see if there’s a demon for me to slay, eh?”

She gasped without meaning to, a short catch of breath that seemed impossibly loud against the silence that surrounded them. The magic that crackled to life before her was unlike anything Nicolette had seen before, but that alone was not enough to warrant such a response. It was the way that the the energy seemed to reach for Vincent, and the way that he reached back, that captivated her. Her quick sideways glance toward Xander revealed he felt the same, as his face was pale, and his lips drawn in a tight line. This was not merely a cheap show, meant to impress her, or sway her opinion of him. Rather, with her golden eyes wide, Nicolette watched a mere human bring a temple to life.

Yet it was with the most easy calm that the blonde called back to them, his own blue eyes dancing mischievously. He turned from them, the angry red sparks beneath each footfall cooling to a more pleasing cyan. The color of the runes, Nicolette noted, before realizing that Vincent had already begun his trek toward the cave itself. She moved into a jog to catch up, the ever-present Xander flanking her as the threesome drew nearer to the cave.

Nicolette braced herself for the worst. With every sense on high alert, she prepared herself for the mighty bellows of whatever behemoth they had freed. For the impossible heat that would roll from the fire it undoubtedly breathed. For the fear, and the guilt, that would consume her if anything went wrong. Had she been foolish to place her trust in Vincent Cain?

"This is as far as we go." Xander's voice carried from over her shoulder, startling her from her thoughts. He halted, and so did Vince, the latter turning to face them. There was only the briefest hesitation, his gaze solely on her, before he gave a curt nod.

Nicolette, however, remained the only one opposed to this plan. Annoyance drifted across her face, but something deeper lingered there as well. Xander, the man who knew her better than anyone else, might be the only one who recognized it for what it was. Doubt. "Do I have no say in the matter?" she asked tersely, no evidence of the darker emotion that plagued her.

"Your safety is more important to me than whatever else you think you deserve." And though his words were frank, the concern within them was nearly palpable. Deserving independence, but also deserving whatever fate awaited them - the words left unspoken hovered between them. And as her eyes met his, hard amber meeting stormy seas, she knew she would not win this battle.

With a shrug, she answered, "Fine. But you must be sure to call if you need help." As if to indicate he was far from helpless, the scholar rolled his shoulders, flashed them both a winning smile, and continued his journey into the cave's mouth.

What could only have been a handful of minutes passed with the debilitating slowness of multiple hours. Nicolette, a patient woman by nature, shifted her weight anxiously from one foot to the next. The occasional call of a bird cracked the wall of silence between herself and Xander, but the sounds were few and far between. Was there something keeping them away, or was it merely her paranoia playing tricks on her? Was there a sort of humming in the air, or was she imagining that as well?

She heard herself shout, finally, "What is in there?"

Far too much time passed before she heard Vincent's response, distorted by the wide cavern. "Nothing."

“Nothing?” Nicolette asked, her face remaining a stoic mask.

“I mean nothing. Like, not even rocks.” Vince exclaimed. “It’s just an empty cave.” Nicolette found herself charging forward to follow up on this claim, but her guardian grabbed her by the shoulder.

“Letty I think we have bigger problems.” The chaperone gestured up to the hill they had crossed on their way to the shrine. A small group of fifteen or so people stood at the top, torches lit. Presiding at the front seemed to be the judge, made most noticeable by the large horse he was sitting atop. “We were followed.”

“Mister Cain.” Letty shouted as she turned around. “It looks like the court date just got pushed forward.”

The group began their descent down the hill, torches casting sinister shadows as they walked. Xander seemed to be on guard, hand on his sword, ready for a fight if it came to it. Nicolette knew better, she’d seen what Vincent was capable of.

She was afraid for the judge and his men.

After what felt like ages, the judge was in shouting distance, and the group stopped. “Ms. Morgan!” He boomed. “Would you please tell me why your client’s cell is empty?”

“We were investigating his claims.” The young attorney replied coolly. “As it turns out there is nothing in the cave.”

“Oh really?” One of the man shouted angrily. “You’re telling us our oldest myth is a-“ Nicolette heard a loud snap behind her as suddenly the night turned to dawn and a blinding light shone behind her. The group turned and gasped as Vince stood there, crystal orb in hand as the entire cave was illuminated and left empty.

“The cave is…” The group murmured in awe.

“Empty.” Nicolette finished their statement for them. “Mr. Cain claims the item used to seal the cave in the first place is a…family heirloom and wishes it returned to him.” She strode to the judge and peered up at him. “I assume you have no issues?”

The judge fidgeted in his saddle for a moment, uncomfortable by the demonstration of magic. “I do believe that the town shouldn’t have any problems…” he paused for a moment and sighed. “The Judgment rests its case.”

They stood a short distance from the crowd, the newly acquitted freedman and his young attorney. Their backs were turned to the others, including Xander, who paced nearby. The knight had positioned himself between his charge and the murmuring mob, and based on the scowl he wore, he was not impressed by the situation. Nicolette, however, did not notice as she looked out across the rolling countryside. Vincent followed her gaze, remaining quiet, allowing her her thoughts.

When she finally spoke her voice was light, contemplative. "So there was truly no monster in the cave?"

The scholar shook his head slowly. "No monster," he assured her. "Nothing at all." Then, because he could hardly help himself, "Though I'm sure I could have handled it had there been one in there."

She loosed a soft hum of acknowledgement. Vincent could nearly see the gears in her mind turning. Such a sharp mind for someone so young. It reminded him a bit of Rayleigh, and the questions she had asked upon their first meeting. Though he kept the smile from his lips, his expression softened as he turned to look at Nicolette. Perhaps that was why he found himself so drawn to the girl.

It was that thought that prompted him to speak once more. "Are you sure that you haven't changed your mind about my proposal?" There was something pleading in the question, a fact that surprised him greatly. Was he begging? He, the mighty and powerful Vincent Cain? The Emperor of the Tarot Hierarchy? It was not as if Nicolette Morgan were the only one who could carry out the duties of the Judgment Card. On the contrary, he imagined it would be fairly easy to locate another once she was no longer a possibility. It was true that fate had led him to her, but fate must have also known that she would say no. That he would be returning home alone. Still, something about her just fit. She was destined, even if she did not know it. And that was what conflicted him. He could not force her, but he could not seem to convince her either.

She matched his question with another. "Why did you not trick these people?"

The oddness of the question threw him off his guard. His sapphire eyes, the same color as the cloudless sky above, blinked back at her. "Come again?"

The young woman still did not look at him. "You could have pretended to kill the monster. Conjured up a vision with your magic. That would have impressed them, and no doubt won you your case. And more than a little glory too."

A less-traveled, less-confident man might have been offended by her frank analysis. But Vincent merely gave a low chuckle. It was only then that she turned to him, her gaze finding his as he continued to speak. "I didn't come for the glory. I don't do much for glory anymore, honestly. Maybe years ago. But now I'm more focused on my work with the Tarot." He held up the artifact he still clutched in one hand. "On finding these artifacts. And on looking after my people."

The unspoken words lingered between them, and his intense stare did nothing to calm her. There it was again, that pleading, that need; it was as if he willed her to join him. Finally, when she said nothing, he filled in the blanks for her. "You could be one of my people."

The golden girl of Caershire did not not avert her gaze, matching him for intensity, even as she lifted her hands. "These," she countered, though not unkindly, "are my people. And just as you look after yours, I look after mine." Vincent's mouth opened, surely to protest, but she cut him off with a shake of her head. "I know, you feel your work with the Tarot Hierarchy will help, indirectly. But indirectly is not enough to satisfy me, Mr. Cain. I am needed her. I hope you can respect that."

He did. He had to. He could see in those eyes, shimmering with passion, hope, and bright sunlight, that he had no other choice. "You're missing out," he replied simply, though his grin indicated there were no hard feelings. The Emperor dropped into a low, sweeping bow. "Goodbye then, Miss Morgan." As he straightened, he offered a wink. "Something tells me this will not be our last meeting."

And then the sandy-haired young man was gone. Shouts of surprise rose from the collection of townspeople at his sudden disappearance, and Nicolette could feel Xander running up behind her. Yet even as she turned to face him, to assure her friend that everything was alright, she, too, believed that she would see that unusual man again.

Cards of Fate receives 1450 EXP and 135 GP! (inc GP bonus)
Nicolette receives 890 EXP and 125 GP!

All rewards added!