Rebirth of the Nephilim

Vraekae had lied to her.

Not directly, of course. Jadis didn’t think that the elf would directly lie to her, not anymore. She knew how badly Jadis reacted to people who tried to manipulate her and ever since they had come to a mutual understanding, Vraekae had been honest and upfront with her in all of their dealings, including the intimate ones. So, no, Vraekae had not directly lied to her.

But she had omitted the truth, hadn’t she?

“You may step down,” the proctor informed the little piece of shit that had provided his testimony. “Remain in the waiting gallery, in case you need to be called upon again.”

The half-elf man kept glancing in Jadis’ direction as he stepped down from the witness stand, as though he were drawn to her like a magnet. Every time their eyes met, however, he flinched away, as if burned. Jadis wasn’t sure what face her bodies were making, but she had no doubt that her expressions were unhappy, to say the least. Her lovers sitting around her probably weren’t much better.

“What a fucking idiot,” Kerr murmured under her breath, just barely audible to Syd. “If we were in the Verdant Sea, he’d be whipped raw with a wet belt for being such a gandon.”

“He’s being punished,” Aila pointed out, her tone glacial.

Jadis understood what the redhead was referring to. The bracelet around his arm was the same kind as the one Sorcha had once worn, indicating that he had been sentenced to a term of indentured service, the standard punishment given to most criminals in the empire. Jadis didn’t know what service the man was providing and she didn’t much care. She was sure that Fortune’s Favored had been offered the right to the idiot’s work and she was equally certain that the offer had been rejected. There was no way that they would ever want someone as untrustworthy as that idiot working around their airships.

“Not enough,” Kerr growled in response to Aila’s comment.

“Doesn’t feel like it, no,” Syd kept her voice low. “But right now, I don’t really give a fuck about them. What I want to know is, why didn’t Vraekae tell me who was behind this shit?”

Regardless of how Jadis felt about the individuals who had made up the mob and attacked the compound while she and the others were away, they weren’t important. Not anymore. At one time, Jadis had assumed that they were likely a manufactured mob, a riot incentivized into action by nobles who were trying to make some kind of move against her. Possibly Duke Colgrave, or someone else from Prince Hraustrekr’s faction. She had also recognized the possibility that the men and women who had stormed the Fortune’s Favored compound were just a bunch of assholes who had gotten drunk and riled up about Demons and the war, and had then taken out their anger and frustration on the easiest available target. Not everything had to be part of some Machiavellian conspiracy. Considering nothing more had come of the attack, Jadis had started leaning towards the latter explanation.

Apparently, that presumption had been hasty.

“The court calls Nedry of Clan Sea Hawk to the witness stand!” the proctor called out.

From a side room a guard led another man into the courtroom. He was an orc, another sailor judging by his looks and the tattoos displayed prominently on his forearms. He also had another bracelet on indicating that he was being punished with indentured servitude, which meant just like the last twenty or so witnesses, he was another one of the rioters who had been arrested after attacking the compound.

Jadis’ assumption was proven correct as soon as Inquisitor Silus began to question the witness. The format remained the same as the rest, with the story being told by the orc named Nedry following the same beats as the others who had attacked the compound. The description of what the sailor had done was of little interest to Jadis by that point, so she didn’t focus on his words, instead sweeping her gaze over the rest of the courtroom and the many people gathered within.

The imperial legal system was… interesting. Similar to what Jadis knew of the law on Earth, but definitely different in many ways. Of course, she was hardly an expert when it came to courtroom proceedings. Most of what Jadis knew came from television shows and movies. She’d never even been to a courthouse before, except when she got her driver’s license. Participating in a trial would have been a new experience for her no matter what, but the imperial system brought an extra level of newness to her perceptions.

Vraekae, as magistrate, sat as the judge over the trial. Apparently, there were subordinates who worked for Vraekae in the city hall who handled the many lesser criminal trials that occurred on a daily basis, but the blue elf herself handled the big trials that really mattered. For those important trials where the public was welcome to attend and observe, the overly large and royally embellished courtroom that they were currently occupying was used. There was a gallery seating area, with a balcony above provided for extra space for spectators, of which there were many on that particular day. Interestingly, there was a whole separate room behind closed doors where any and all witnesses were kept. The court proceedings made sure that the individual witnesses could not overhear other witnesses when giving their accounts in order to prevent one testimony from influencing any of the others, which Jadis thought was a sensible idea. Other than there being a judge sitting on a platform that overlooked the courtroom, a jury box off to one side, and a witness stand right next to the judge’s platform, there wasn’t much else that was directly analogous to American trials.

The proctor was one such example of the startling differences. Looking at the man, Jadis was still not entirely certain why Proctor Crestwood was needed. His position was, so far as she could tell, to be the ceremonial official who administered the proceedings. To Jadis’ mind, she would have thought that Vraekae would be doing all the administering, since she was directly comparable to a judge in Earth courtrooms, but the magistrate had actually said very little during the trial thus far. The proctor did most of the talking, quieting the gallery and calling the witnesses in and such. Maybe there was some sort of old tradition that Jadis wasn’t aware of, or maybe it had something to do with the impartiality that the imperial system of law seemed to strive for, but Jadis just didn’t get why the proctor position existed.

There was no defense attorney. Technically, there was no prosecuting attorney, either. Instead, there were two inquisitors, both of whom presented evidence and questioned the witnesses. The two officials were supposed to be neutral parties, so far as Jadis understood, who were only interested in determining the truth. Inquisitor wasn’t just their title, either. Inquisitor was a class, one that was held in extremely high regard, as only those who were completely dedicated to uncovering the facts and displayed complete impartiality were offered the class by the System. That didn’t mean that they were infallible, though, which was why two inquisitors investigated the same case separately from each other, just to make certain that no evidence was overlooked and that both came to the same conclusions.

Inquisitors Silus and Jurian both argued their points, but not against each other. It was more like a collaborative effort between scientists who were presenting their findings to their peers. Only, in this case, their peers were not fellow inquisitors, but a jury of legal experts.

Jadis had expected a jury of randomly selected citizens based on the laws of her old life, but when she had told Severina about that idea, the Seraphim had stared at her like she was a crazy person. An imperial jury was made up of twenty individuals, all of whom had some claim to legal expertise. They didn’t necessarily have to be trained legal advocates, nor have a class specifically involving the law, but they did have to have some kind of previously approved legal education in order to participate in a jury. Mostly that meant scholars, like the sort found in Metethys’ temple or the imperial university, but nobles were also frequently called upon. Not because of their birthright, but because as nobles they were almost always well-versed in the laws of the land. In some cases, merchants who were experts in commercial and trade law were also called upon to serve in juries, but only in cases where such laws would be applicable.

Despite having a jury system, the ultimate decision of guilt or innocence was up to the magistrate. The jury listened to the evidence and provided their input at the end of the trial, but they didn’t actually vote on anything. They did have the power to call for impartial oversight from the crown if they felt that the trial was being mishandled or was in some way being corrupted by outside influence, but otherwise they were advisors only. Ultimately, the only person who needed to be convinced one way or the other was the magistrate.

Thoughts of the magistrate caused Jadis’ many eyes to drift up to the seated woman. Vraekae did not look at her, though not because she was avoiding Jadis’ gaze. Her focus was solely on the witness providing his testimony, which was laudable, Jadis supposed. Except, why bother paying attention to the part of the man’s story that involved the attack when it so clearly didn’t matter?

Vraekae had lied to Jadis. The trial wasn’t about Cobbler. Not really. The trial’s true purpose was to be a stage. A platform. A means to an end. A way in which Vraekae could publicly reveal the hidden hand behind the attack against the Fortune’s Favored compound without making any accusations or political statements. A mission of pure fact finding, nothing more.

And it absolutely pissed Jadis off that Vraekae had not told her what was happening earlier.

“Before that day, did you have any connection to the group of twelve men that you and your companions met on the docks in the vicinity of the Leaky Bucket?”

“No, sir, I did not,” the orc, Nedry, was saying. “Me and my mates was at the Tub Thumper, where we always drink when we berth here in Eldingholt. Never saw those others before, don’t think they ever came by the Tub.”

“Were you aware of any connection that might exist between those twelve men and your five companions?”

“None, sir.”

“And at that point, were you familiar with a man named Rimantas?”

“Never heard that name before in me life,” the orc shook his head fervently.

Jadis narrowed her eyes at the witness, the subtle change in topic catching her attention. She didn’t think he was lying. In fact, he seemed to be overly cooperative, as though he was eager to please the court. Probably he was, as Jadis was sure that being cooperative and showing contrition for crimes committed would help get the orc a lighter punishment.

“Are you familiar with the name Vilte?”

“That name I know, yes,” Nedry bobbed his head up and down eagerly. “She’s the one we met at the Tub Thumper. Her and three trawlers—ah, ladies who were at the bar.”

“Could you elaborate on your interaction with this woman named Vilte?”

“Aye, I mean, yes sir. She weren’t the type I’m used to seeing at the Tub Thumper. Beautiful woman, big—”

“We can skip the description of her person for now, thank you,” Silus interrupted the orc as he was holding his hands in front of his chest.

“Ah, right. I mean, she and the three she had with her were easy to talk to. They had the big table and they invited me and me mates to join them. They had three droops at the table already but they were sodded and she asked us to just toss them to the side for her.”

“By she, do you mean the orcish woman identified as Vilte?”

“Right,” Nedry agreed, nodding at Inquisitor Jurian. “She was the one in charge, even though she didn’t belong.”

“How do mean that she didn’t belong?” Jurian glanced at the other inquisitor before continuing. “What made her stand out to you? Other than her ample looks?”

“Well, she was the one in charge of the three ladies for sure, because they kept looking at her and, well, they was just taking her lead. You could tell, it was how it was. But she didn’t belong because they were trawlers and she wasn’t.”

“What do you mean by ‘trawlers’ exactly?”

“Whores, sir,” the orc answered while looking nervously at an icily impassive Vraekae. “Begging your pardon, but they were the type that whore around the docks, only most trawlers don’t come through the Tub Thumper because it’s a rough spot. I seen those three around, but never in the Tub. I don’t think they would have ever been in there except that the one, Vilte, led them in.”

“What else can you tell the court about your interaction with Vilte?” Inquisitor Silus took up the reins of the interrogation again.

“We talked about a lot of things,” Nedry shrugged. “Sailing. Trade. The war.”

“What about the war?”

“Lots of things about the Demons and the empire and how bad the empire was handling things, letting the Demon infest outside and in for so long.”

As he spoke, the orc looked at Alex with a frown on his face, though not for long. As soon as his gaze drifted enough to meet Jay’s eyes, he paled by three shades of green and did not look towards Alex again.

“Anything else?”

“She, uh, asked a lot of questions about the Demons living in the city,” Nedry swallowed thickly. “Talked about them lots, had us talking about them lots.”

“What about them?”

“About… about how it wasn’t right that the empire was letting Demons live. That they can’t be trusted and that sort of talk. Danger to us all! And, uh, that we should be doing something about it if the law wasn’t going to do nothing. I think Carn said we should do something, and Vilte was sitting on his knee and smiling the whole way.”

“What would you say Vilte’s attitude was towards Carn’s words regarding taking action against the Fortune’s Favored compound?”

“She, well, she egged him on, sir,” Nedry motioned with his hands. “She agreed with him, said it was the right thing to do, taking action. Valtar would agree, you’ve got to do what was right, even if it meant doing something that the law might stand against.”

“Were those Carn’s words, or Vilte’s words? Or your own?” Jurian asked sharply.

“Not my words, no sir,” the orc shook his head. “I, uh, I think Carn might have said so? Maybe Vilte said something like that, too? Or… I’m sorry, I can’t remember exactly, they were both saying things like that by the end.”

“Both?” Silus asked. “You’re certain?”

“Both was. I swear it.”

“So, Vilte agreed quite strongly with your companion’s idea to march on the compound. When you and the others in your party left the Tub Thumper to act on this plan, did Vilte or her three companions go with you?”

“No…” Nedry shook his head. “Well, they got up and left the Tub with us, but by the time we was down the street and we met up with that dozen from the Bucket, I didn’t see them no more. They was gone, like they fell off the side of the ship. Just gone…”

Jadis didn’t need to hear more. She’d already heard the same thing enough times already. The twelve from the Leaky Bucket. The nine from Bastion’s Salthouse, The ten from Marnie’s, and most recently in the trial, the six from the Leaky Bucket. All were patrons of taverns or bars located on the docks, and all lived in the empire but weren’t actually locals who lived in Eldingholt. In each and every case, there was an outsider. A man. A woman. A stranger buying a drink. A pretty woman with a friendly smile. Each and every time, someone extra was there to talk to the drunken, stupid, easily led sailors, and whisper ideas and encouragements in their wax-filled ears.

“What kind of name is Vilte, anyway?” Syd whispered quietly to Kerr, the most traveled of her companions.

“That’s a name you’re only going to find in the west,” Kerr muttered darkly. “In the Rubaline Dominion.”

The Rubaline Dominion. The country that had been completely overrun by Demons, except for a small area where the queen and her surviving army and displaced subjects had fled to for protection. The very same country where Emperor Somerulf had led his army to with the intent of liberating the nation from demonic infestation.

And apparently, it was the country that had sent spies and agitators to Eldingholt to trick a mob into attacking Fortune’s Favored.

How much did Vraekae know? It was obvious to Jadis that the news about the Rubaline Dominion being involved in the attack was the topic that Vraekae had been avoiding discussing with her. It was the only major detail of the trial that she had not mentioned in any way. Not even a hint. However, considering the testimony given, it was just as obvious who the real culprits behind the attack were. So, why hide the facts from Jadis until the trial?

Because she would have fucking done something about it, that was why, Jadis answered her own internal question with an angry frown.

Jadis wasn’t stupid. She was under no illusions that she was the smartest person in the room, but she wasn’t an idiot, either. She understood herself well enough to know how she would have reacted to finding out who had goaded people into attacking her friends and her home. If the party responsible had been Duke Colgrave or any other noble of that ilk, she would have flown right to them and punched them in the face. If it had been Prince Hraustrekr, she would have punched him in the face. Again. And if it had been the emperor himself… Jadis would have punched him in the face, too, and given everyone she knew a heart attack in the process.

And if she had found out that it was likely a plot invented by the powers that be in the Rubaline Dominion? She would have flown right on over to whatever part of the world their queen was in and punched her right in her nose.

Except, how did Jadis really know that the queen was involved? She supposed she didn’t know, did she. Certainly, someone in a position of power had known. Such a coordinated effort did not happen by accident, and it wasn’t something done by a few random people off the street. People from the Rubaline Dominion were involved, but that didn’t mean it was an act sanctioned by their leadership. It didn’t mean that it wasn’t not sanctioned, either. All Jadis really knew at that point was that the individuals who had instigated the attack were from the dominion.

And maybe that was exactly why Vraekae had not wanted to tell Jadis what she had found out. Maybe… Vraekae didn’t have enough information yet herself to know who was really, truly responsible. In which case, the trial wasn’t the revelation that Jadis thought it was. The trial wasn’t the end point. It was the beginning.

The beginning of what, though, Jadis wasn’t certain.

“Maeve,” Dys said as she leaned over Meli to quietly address the shapeshifter.

“I’m already on it,” Maeve whispered before Dys could continue. “You’ll have a report by the end of the day.”

As the proctor dismissed Nedry and called for the next witness, Maeve stood up from her seat in the gallery and left the courtroom. Jadis didn’t need to ask about the spy’s plans. She would find out as much as she could about Vraekae’s investigation, the people from the Rubaline Dominion, and any other information that any spy who might have possibly been involved possessed, including Ned Aubert. By the time night fell, Jadis expected to have some answers, whether she got them from Vraekae, the trial, or by Maeve’s efforts.

And once she did have those answers, a long overdue reckoning would be coming for those who had dared to fuck with Jadis’ family.