Judge Me Not

Join Master Norah as she arrives in Ontemoux with sixteen Hunters in tow, all to take care of a single Beast writing sigils in the town hall. Written in 57 AS.

 

The din of the crowd surrounded us well before we reached the town square of Ontemoux. It wasn’t every commoner – as the people of Biaupier call those who aren’t Nobles – in town, of course. Most of them wanted nothing to do with this brewing threat of violence. But by Saint Margaret, it felt like every commoner in town was there, baying for the town hall to be burned to the ground.

 

The Nobles’ halberdiers were nervously eyeing the crowd, trying to hold it back. Most of the troops were in front of the town hall, keeping anyone carrying anything that seemed like it might cause a spark at a distance with their halberds. At the risk of saying something in bad taste: it was good to see warriors in livery of all three of the Noble Houses standing side by side with a common purpose.

 

The livery was much less mixed at the three Governor’s Homes, though. The Copestre Home was defended by halberdiers in silver stitched with a purple goblet, the Moscuter Home by troops in blue with a silver skeletal arm and golden banner, the Sanveil Home by those in green with two silver falcons and a silver hound. Notably, the Sanveil halberdiers were looking a lot more nervous, the crowd baying a lot more loudly in their faces than their peers’. It didn’t escape my notice that they looked relieved to see my Hunters and me.

 

Chapter Master Elisha had wanted to send their own Hunters down from the Biaupier capital of Marmontier, but since the Crossed Steels Chapter is so closely tied to the Nobles, they thought better of it in this circumstance, and sent for the First instead. A good decision, as the Nobles have always been little-loved in Ontemoux, and the events that led to the formation of the Crossed Steels Chapter did nothing to improve the matter. However, with a messenger first having to go to the capital, another messenger then having to go to Fenblith, and us Hunters then having to travel to where we were needed, it had unfortunately been quite a while since the Sanveil Governor of Ontemoux had turned into a Beast.

 

Lorin of Sanveil had seemed to be in fine health, until one night, while he was working alone in the town hall, something had happened, and he had transformed. The staff that arrived the next morning were slaughtered, only a few of them making it back outside. They spoke of a horrid figure, dressed in tattered Sanveil finery, scratching sigils on the walls and attacking them as soon as they had entered, tearing through them as they fled.

 

Naturally, upon hearing this, the remaining two Governors, Symonne of Copestre and Emerylot of Moscuter, took it upon themselves to investigate. As Nobles, they were both skilled swordfighters, and moreover they were duty-bound to slay the Beast that had once been their peer.

 

They did not return.

 

In most towns in Biaupier, there would be possible successors present. In the towns of Onbriau – which includes Ontemoux –, an old agreement with the commoners dictates that each House only ever has one Noble present: the Governors. With all three of them suddenly dead and no one there to take over, it thus fell to the Nobles’ troops to follow the emergency orders left behind by their rulers.

 

They immediately sent word to Marmontier, barricaded the town hall from the outside, and set up a firm watch. At first, this was to keep the Beast in, anticipating it – and any of the slain who might transform as well – to try and break out. However, the Beast showed no interest in leaving, and no sounds were added to its movements, suggesting that – thankfully – none of the dead had transformed. Soon, though, the barricades proved worthwhile after all, as it became increasingly difficult to keep arsonists out of the town hall. Numerous commoners, understandably fearful of the Beast, wanted to reduce it to ashes. Presumably, the fact that the town hall was filled with papers integral to the Nobles’ rule of Onbriau played a role for at least some of them, too.

 

The halberdiers, to their credit, had managed their duties so far, but they were wearing thin, on constant rotation for weeks now. Worse, the increasing number of agitated commoners led to the necessity of an increasing number of present halberdiers. This drew troops away from the rest of Ontemoux, which gave breathing room to the more… actively rebellious parts of the population, which in turn led to more unrest, which in turn led to more people clamouring for the situation to be resolved, which necessitated even more troops to be present at the town hall, and so on.

 

No matter their agitation, though: when the commoners saw us, they gave us room. And it’s well they did, because we had arrived with a rather staggering seventeen Hunters. A generation past, that was considered enough Hunters to protect the entirety of Nescetan. And though we have of course learned that that wasn’t enough, still… It shows how seriously Fenblith takes the role of its Hunters and how eagerly the Council invests in everyone’s well-being that such a large number of us was sent down to deal with one Beast, former Governor or no.

 

As the only Master present, I led the Hunt. I would be entering the town hall alongside a single squad. That squad would be led by Brother Baden, and was further made up of Brother Zakkai, Sister Tabitha, Brother Oliver, and Sister Hannah. Two more squads, led by Brother Gerald and Sister Da Xia, would spread among the halberdiers to shore up the perimeter. Their blunderbusses would keep the Beast from escaping when it was finally properly pressed by the Hunters of the First.

 

The seventeenth Hunter was not a member of the First, though. Sibling Jesse is an Adept of the Ashes of Mellsciff. They were visiting Fenblith on unrelated business when Master Elisha’s call for aid arrived. As a member of the Ashes, Sibling Jesse, more than members of any other Chapter, is familiar with controlled burns. After all, after continued resurgence of Darkheart activity in Mellsciff, the Ashes purged the town’s forests with fire without damaging those areas untainted by the Dark Ones, pulling their community back from the brink.

 

We would not have normally brought them along, but… The report that the Beast had been scratching sigils troubled us. We have marked well how Darkhearts can use sigils to draw the attention of the Dark Ones, and the idea that a Beast was carving them, killing anyone who ventured near but never even trying to leave… We believed there might well be something truly heinous afoot inside the town hall. And if our suspicions proved correct, we wanted to be able to reduce whatever we discovered to ashes without doing the same to the rest of the very densely built town of Ontemoux.

 

And so Sibling Jesse had joined us, bringing their tools with them. For now, though, their role was a passive one. They stood slightly to the side as my Hunters and I walked up to the leaders of the halberdiers. I did not need to identify myself; the troops were too eager to see an end to the madness to do anything other than usher us towards the town hall’s entrance.

 

As the barricades blocking the door began coming apart, the crowd fell silent, and I felt it move behind me. I thought that perhaps they were surging forwards, taking this chance to hurl fire into the building. But no: they were moving backwards, fearful of the Beast. I could see in the halberdiers that they were feeling much the same.

 

I ordered Gerald and Da Xia to move their squads into position and told Baden to prepare his Hunters. I took a moment to prepare myself, mentally going over the layout of the town hall we had been provided as I limbered up my muscles and joints, throwing a few warm-up punches. I checked the straps on my cuirass and gorget and adjusted my helm; a conical one, same as the Hunters in Baden’s squad. The town hall featured several floors, and I didn’t want the broad rim of our standard kettle helms to obscure our sight and allow the Beast to pounce from above.

 

Finally, as the last part of the barricade was removed, I prepared my weapons. I made sure I could draw my sabre swiftly and easily; I took my blunderbuss, filling it with powder and shot; I felt for my punch daggers, Master-crafted for my ascension, sitting snug at my hips, just below the cuirass. Making sure that my Hunters had checked and prepared their equipment too, I gave Baden a nod, and he led the way into the now opening town hall.

 

The crowd hushed as I followed my Hunters into darkness.

 

The door shut behind me. I closed my eyes for a few moments, pricking my ears as I listened for signs of the Beast. All was silent. I flicked my eyes open again, my sight rapidly adjusting to the gloom cast by the shuttered windows.

 

It was carnage.

 

The bodies of the staff lay haphazard across the entry hall and up the stairs, torn through as they fled. They had been tossed like ragdolls, their bodies snapped and crumpled against walls, steps, and railings. The stench of rot hung thick in the air.

 

Oliver remarked that the bodies seemed… incomplete. Baden let his Hunters spread out slightly, each of them tasked with studying different remains as he and I kept watch. It was tough to see precise wounds in the poor light, but it soon became evident that every corpse was missing something; chunks of meat, pieces of rib cages, or even entire limbs had been pulled free.

 

We steeled ourselves: the Beast was strong, that much was clear. There was no sign of it or the missing Governors yet, though, and so we continued up the stairs. Baden put his squad in an arrowhead formation; him at the tip, flanked to the right by Zakkai and Tabitha and to the left by Oliver and Hannah, all of them with their blunderbusses raised. I followed close behind, my gun low, so that I could quickly help any Hunter who might need it.

 

At the top of the stairs, we turned right. Carefully, Baden led us around a corner to the left, into and through one of two parallel hallways leading to where the Governors held court together. Gingerly, he opened the door. It swung open smoothly, its well-maintained state seeming oddly out of place somehow. We entered the audience hall.

 

Blinding light hit our eyes. The halberdiers had been unable or unwilling to climb up to close off these windows, especially after the Beast proved happy to stay put. I blinked fiercely, pushing my way past my Siblings to be sure to be the first one into danger. Slowly, the hall came into horrible focus.

 

It was spacious, with high windows casting mote-riddled light down onto the floor. The walls were in shadow, but I noticed the ancient wood paneling had been defaced with a repeating shape, forming a long trail of what seemed like crudely carved balance scales leaning one way and then the other over and over again, across the walls and floor, towards the end of the hall. There, in front of a subtle backdoor, I saw three wooden thrones.

 

In the left sat Symonne of Copestre, her silver tunic marred with dried blood. Her rapier hung limp, her crooked fingers tangled with the swept hilt, while her parrying dagger was stuck in the purple goblet of her tabard. It had evidently been forced through her brigandine armour – something that must have taken quite some time.

 

In the right sat Emerylot of Moscuter, their head hanging loose atop their clearly broken neck. Their sidesword was bent and broken, the iron bands covering their left forearm torn loose. The sword had apparently been used as a tool to break open the armour, though for what purpose I could not say.

 

Both Nobles had a large chunk torn from their necks, and there was little mystery as to why.

 

In the centre throne sat what once was Lorin of Sanveil. His body had swollen, the green tunic he had been wearing when he died torn in several places to reveal bulging muscles underneath. His hands, too, had grown in size, the bones turned thick and angry so that they almost burst the skin when he formed a fist, which he was constantly doing and undoing. Gnarled teeth protruded from his blood-clotted mouth, the jaws warped into an animal snarl. His feet were animalistic, almost lupine, and before them lay a putrefying pile of the body parts that had been missing from the staff and Governors. The Beast studied me, cocked its head, opened its mouth…

 

…and spoke.

 

It didn’t actually form the words; its lips could not hope to, across those jagged teeth. Instead, it growled, low and deep, and in that growl I heard a voice, though I don’t know how, speak to me from dizzying heights and harrowing depths. The words came to me in Iseronian, in my exact accent.

 

“Court is in session.” spoke the Beast “Prepare for your verdict. Prepare for justice.” At that last word, I heard the creaking of wood. It can’t have been true, but I thought I saw movement crawl across the carvings on the wall, as if the scales bucked and twisted. It described a path through the repeating sigils until it ran across the floor and to the pile of death in front of the thrones. “Will you be declared innocent?” said the Beast. Then it gestured at the pile. “Or will you join the guilty?”

 

We were aghast, each of us glancing at each other to confirm that everyone else had heard the words too. With an immense effort of will, I found my voice. I asked the Beast what it was. It chuckled.

 

“The Arbiter,” it said in that wordless growl. “It Who Levels. The Straightened Scales.” It leant forwards, the growl deepening. “The Judging Mouth.”

 

My hackles raised, my mind turning utterly blank at the horror of this Beast that spoke, that seemed to reason, that named things I did not understand. But even as my mind reeled, I sank into a ready pose and levelled my blunderbuss.

 

The Arbiter snarled as I pulled the trigger. “Guilty!” it roared as it leapt nimbly behind the Moscuter throne, although the scattering shot could hardly have harmed it from that distance. My knees buckled at the pronouncement, my eyes involuntarily scanning the crooked sigils for any movement that might be snaking towards me, but my shot had been as clear to my Hunters as any spoken order.

 

Baden’s squad strode past me, shocking me out of my confusion and prompting me to begin reloading. They fanned out to find angles past the Beast’s cover. It snarled and leapt away, rushing to the backdoor with startling speed.

Flintlocks snapped shut, the roaring burst of gunpowder filling the hall with reverberating rage. Shot scattered wide, but some of it clearly found its mark, the Arbiter howling as it wrenched open the door.

 

“Guilty!”

 

It disappeared into the dark hallway beyond the hall, hurrying towards the Governors’ private chambers. Baden gave the order to draw sabres and follow, but at my whistle, his squad stopped.

 

Having regained myself, I reminded Baden that the hallways beyond were cramped and – with the sconces certainly burnt empty by now – very dark. It would be a terrible idea to follow the Arbiter there. It would be on terrain familiar to it and unfamiliar to us, meaning it could use the darkness to surprise us and the narrowness of the hallway to force us to fight one at a time. And that was presuming we would even be able to fight, as our sabres were much better at slashing than thrusting, and there probably wouldn’t be enough room for that.

 

Baden nodded, saying that we would have to draw the Beast back out, then. Oliver asked how we wanted to do that. I cast around me, looking for an idea. My eyes fell on the sigils, and a smile escaped me. I ordered Oliver to fetch Sibling Jesse, and to tell them to bring something that could turn wood paneling into kindling.

 

My grin spread across the hall as my Hunters realised what I intended to do, and Oliver quickly ran off. While we waited for Sibling Jesse, we reloaded our blunderbusses and took up positions to cover the door the Arbiter went through with a semicircular formation, Hannah to my left, Zakkai to my right, followed by Baden and Tabitha. Oliver soon returned with Sibling Jesse in tow, their axe already in their hands. As Oliver joined our formation to Tabitha’s right, I pointed out the paneling and explained to Sibling Jesse that I wanted it torn down in several places and used to create a bonfire where the pile of body parts was now. The Hunter blinked at the pile for a moment, taking in and processing the butchery. Then they gave a firm nod and started working.

 

The moment their axe cut into one of the sigils, a muffled roar resounded from deeper within the town hall.

 

“Guilty!”

 

It continued as Sibling Jesse worked, growing louder and more furious when we moved the rotting remains aside and revealed a final sigil, much larger than the rest, the crude scales shape perfectly level.

 

“Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!”

 

There was no reason to it, I realised. Only a bestial dementia bursting forth from a minion of the Dark Ones, its rage somehow finding the shape of words in my head. We continued, and as Sibling Jesse set fire to the kindling they had heaped atop the central sigil, we heard the Arbiter’s loping gait cross the hallway and return to us.

 

But it didn’t appear.

 

The fire took, an orange glow suffusing the pale light falling down from the windows, casting long shadows from the three thrones before it, but when we heard the Arbiter reach the door, when all six of our trigger fingers tightened while Sibling Jesse drew their sabre just in case, it stopped. It might not have had reason, but it had instinct, and it sensed a trap.

 

Smoke coiled against the hall’s ceiling, searching for an exit, and began to spread. Sibling Jesse had soaked the floor around the bonfire as well as possible, sending Oliver down for water several times, but they warned me that they could not let the fire blaze for long, lest they lose control of it.

 

We grew increasingly tense, conscious of the Beast lurking just beyond the door. Tabitha asked if we should push forwards, but Baden shut her down. Zakkai suggested we toss the Sanveil throne on the fire, increasing the outrage, but Sibling Jesse refused to feed the fire any further. Hannah pointed out that the smoke would soon become a hindrance, and I felt everyone turn their attention to me, desperate for their Master to resolve this horrible tension.

 

A thought occurred.

 

“Innocent!” I yelled.

 

The effect was instant. The Arbiter struck the wall and roared: “Guilty!”

 

I continued: “Innocent!”

 

“Guilty!” the Beast howled, clearly growing more enraged.

 

I decided to push fully through his restraint.

 

“I reject the authority of this court! The defendant is free to go!”

 

With a burbling bellow, the Arbiter burst into the hall. So great was its fury, so fast and sudden its rage-fuelled attack, that most of the blunderbuss shot instantly flung towards it went wide. But a lot of it did not.

 

Starsteel pellets hailed into the Beast, a thin mist of ichor spraying up from its skin. Its momentum remained tremendous, though, and it swept Baden and Zakkai aside as it roared at the smoke-filled ceiling.

 

I tossed my blunderbuss and drew my sabre, but the moment the blade was free the Beast struck a backhanded blow against me that all but sent me flying. Without my cuirass, I almost certainly wouldn’t have survived the blow. As it stood I was only dazed and winded.

 

The Arbiter approached with a growl. A proper, animal growl, devoid of malformed words. Hannah leapt in front of me, swinging her sabre against the Beast’s maw. It roared at the cut, but before she could make another she, too, was swept aside.

 

Oliver, Tabitha, and Sibling Jesse beset the Arbiter from behind. It spun around, swinging its mighty arms against their cuts. Ichor flew as the fire flared, and with brutal, smacking slaps the Beast struck away all three Hunters.

 

It turned again, stumbling forwards, the crackling fire lighting it from behind as hazy sunlight fell on it from above. It was riddled with blunderbuss shot, carved by sabre cuts, and its skin ran dark with ichor, but still it came for me. I tried to find my sabre, saw it just out of reach, but before I could lunge for it I felt the Arbiter’s mighty hand grasp my gorget so forcefully the steel tightened on my throat.

 

My stomach lurched as I was lifted from the ground. The Beast’s strength, even in this wounded state, was tremendous. It raised me into the air, pressed me against the wall.

 

I felt like I could sense the sigils wriggling against my back as the Arbiter opened its maw in my face and breathed its hate-filled indictment: “Guilty.”

 

It cocked its head, aimed its maw at where my gorget ended and my flesh began, and with my final shred of dazed strength I pulled one of my punch daggers and rammed it into the Arbiter’s throat. The Beast let out a gurgling howl as it staggered backwards, dropping me to my knees, only to be met by Baden and Zakkai hacking into it.

 

The Beast twisted, striking at them through the slowly thickening smoke, but they managed to backstep away from the attack. I forced myself up, pulling my second punch dagger and throwing several vicious hooks into the Arbiter’s back. It spun again, but I ducked its panicked blow and I delivered an uppercut into its gut.

 

It tried to roar, but its breath had left it. I followed my uppercut up with another, then another. Baden and Zakkai closed in with their sabres, and soon they were joined by Hannah, Oliver, Tabitha, and even Sibling Jesse, despite the fire demanding their intervention very soon. The Hunt turned into a brawl, a beating, a butchery lit by growing fire and smoke-thinned sunlight. The Arbiter growled and snapped and twisted, its body withstanding more damage than I have ever seen a Beast take, but finally, mercifully, it gave out.

 

Sibling Jesse swiftly moved to control the flames. Baden and his Hunters sat down, panting and groaning. I stood over our prey, my fists soaked in its ichor.

 

The Beast was dead.