“You had other names in ages past.”
“Yes, yes I did... And I regret each of them, most of all the one immediately preceding Omniudex. The Cruel Miracle, the people of that kalpa called me. I have yet to atone for the sins I perpetrated upon them.”
The Judge grew silent.
The Confessor smiled to herself and walked out from the side alley, vanishing into a crowd. It was a curious thing, speaking directly to a god and receiving answers that would have sent that very god’s church into upheaval mere centuries ago, and laden with such guilt-ridden sadness at that. The mind struggled to comprehend what sorrows might plague an eternal creature stricken with the misfortune of self-guilt for past actions.
It was only just. This land deserved better than this pale imitation of what they had once thought mundane.
She decided to visit her sister, wondering whether that old hag still hadn’t broken her Viriditas elixir habit.
Alcerys had searched for a good twenty minutes, but all that could be found this far from the city center was a small market that included a butcher’s stall right next to a food stall offering to grill whatever you bought from the butcher.
The meat wasn’t too expensive, and the grilling service was free for that which had been purchased then and there, and so she picked her breakfast of sausages and cutlets, sitting down by the grilling stall. Between the smell and the relatively peaceful atmosphere of the market in the very early morning it was rather nice, but she still couldn’t help being cautious of her surroundings out of habit. Some Ikesians, some Grekurians, a Kargarian here and there milling about. A middle-aged, sleazy-looking Ikesian man quickly became obvious as somehow important in the market, going by the number of stalls he kept running between and his vocal attitude. Some sort of important marketer, perhaps.
His clothes were… Curious. At a glance it was clear that they were beyond the means of a mere marketer. They were bright in colour with dark-blue trousers, with a carmine-red vest over a gold-embroidered black dress shirt. Clearly good of make, tailored and fitted to him, and yet they roused suspicion. There was nothing particular, their cut evoked no particular nation’s favorite style, they had no special cufflinks or foreign patterns to recognize them by - and that itself was suspicious. It almost felt like the man’s clothing was specifically designed to blend in anywhere.
Still, she ate her breakfast in peace, even if neither the quality nor the cooking of the meat was anywhere near ideal. A young-looking Grekurian boy in disheveled attire endemic to a failed merchant family made his way up to another stall that the marketer was standing at, fiddling with something behind the counter. He had glasses, blonde hair done up in a ponytail, and a narrow stature that altogether made him almost look like a girl. The boy mumbled an order to the merchant behind the stall, put his money counter, and just picked up a pre-wrapped parcel of wax paper with obvious routine, the merchant clearly noticing it and making nothing of it.
But the marketer's eyes slithered onto the boy, and he walked after him, much to the visible dread of multiple merchants present, as if they were familiar with this occurrence. He cornered the boy with fast-talking accusations of theft that were not wholly decipherable through the dying-down noise of the crowd.
“C’mon, don’t make a scene. I know you stole from me, and so do all my buddies over there. So why don’t you just play nice and work off your debt? C’mon, I bet you’ll like it!” the merchant pushed with barely-contained lecherous intent, grinning as the boy shrunk beneath his gaze, clutching the paper-wrapped hunk of meat in his arms, visibly on the edge of total breakdown.
Her first reflex was to just ignore whatever was going on. That was what Inquisitors did, not involving themselves unless they had been directed to, for the sake of whatever mission they were pursuing. Such habits still gripped her with their iron claws.
“Ignore it.”
Even as the young boy’s cries drilled into her skull.
“Ignore it.”
Even as the laughter and mockery of his tormentor rang in her ears like the bells of hell.
“Ignore it.”
Even as the sickening sound of a forceful slap followed by an aggressive command resounded and a fire ignited within.
“Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore it ignoreitignoreitignoreitignoreitignoreitignoreitignoreit-”
The Eye stared up at her from below the table and its unflinching stare burrowed into her. A raging thought howled in her head, the chain tightening around her wrist as its thorns dug into her skin. It was like a part of her that she’d suppressed all these years with mental conditioning and geasa had finally broken free.
“IS THIS JUSTICE TO YOU?”
Alcerys stood up, and simply let go. Before she knew it she had gripped the man’s shoulder, her fingers digging into his flesh, his skin sizzling beneath her touch. Without a word spoken she reached over and pulled Emberthorn’s back edge across the front of his neck, myriad thorns sprouting forth and breaking off inside him. A choked gurgle came from him, and he fell to his knees grasping his throat - alive. She delivered a steel-toed kick to his groin for good measure, and felt something burst under her toecap. Smoke and steam began to rise from the man’s nose as the barbs in his neck caught fire… Yet he remained alive all throughout.
“What by the Dead Ones are you doing?! You’ve killed him!” someone exclaimed.
Surrendering to her first instinct, Alcerys retorted simply, “I haven’t, and you won’t dare to either. Scum of this sort deserves no such mercy.”
She turned around, and regarded all the merchants in their stalls and the customers there before them with a scornful glare. They were complicit in this, each and every one of them, and she let them know.
“Has Ikesia truly fallen so low as to willfully foster such evil? Are you all complicit in the violation of your own children just so you don’t have to risk your own necks?!” she demanded of them.
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His clothes were… Curious. -> curious
merchant behind the stall, put his money counter, and just picked -> money on the counter
nose as the barbs in his neck caught fire… Yet he remained alive all throughout. -> yet
“There was nothing particular, their cut evoked no particular nation’s favorite style, they had no special cufflinks or foreign patterns to recognize them by - and that itself was suspicious. It almost felt like the man’s clothing was specifically designed to blend in anywhere.”
The Pateirian spy machine really is falling on its face now that they’re against people that aren’t ignorant peasants that have been downtrodden for ages. More than a few of them have been caught because of this clothing stuff
And indeed Alcerys is a divinely sanctioned vigilante now. Interesting she’s able to use her sword to embed thorns like that into sinners. I’m guessing it can make an infinite number of them?