All the Dust that Falls

Chapter 298: Blood of the Innocent

I launched over the wall and scanned the city, looking for the unfortunate man who had the poor sense to knock over a wine glass. I sure hoped he didn't get any of the nasty stuff on his shirt. That would have been a travesty. Stains like that never come out. At least they didn't used to. I was pretty sure I could fix those by now, depending on how old they were. Wine stains were tough, but I might be tougher.

As I swept through the city, I noticed that it was acceptably clean. People had done a very good job taking care of the streets and even the insides of their homes. But something was wrong. There was a certain tension in the air that I couldn't explain. People's faces were drawn tight, and the children I had seen playing gully ball before were instead crouched in alleys, playing quiet games that didn't draw anyone's attention.

Something new stood in one of the medium-sized squares scattered throughout the city. Sets of wooden blocks with people placed awkwardly in them. There weren't a ton of people, only a dozen or so, but each had their head and hands pinned in place as they were forced to kneel on the hard ground. The people walking by ignored them, except for the white-robed cultists standing over them in silence. Occasionally, someone would speak or call out someone in the crowd, but it was largely ignored.

This alone was odd enough to make me investigate, but I saw something else that made me interested. Not only were the people kneeling there, I noticed they all shared something in common. There was a bit of mess around each of them. One in particular had a wine stain down the front of his shirt. Was this the man they were talking about earlier?

I rushed down and landed in the middle of the square. All the people around me froze, turning to look before one of the white-robed people yelled out, "All hail, Lord Void the Eternal!" and he went to both knees before pressing his forehead into the ground in front of me. All the other robed people followed, and many of the people on the outside of the square dashed into alleys to hide while the ones caught out in the open knelt as well.

I ignored them all. It was uncomfortable, and I still didn't appreciate such attention. But they weren't important at the moment. I turned to the man with the wine stain on his shirt, who was kept in such an awkward position, and made a small sign that only he could read. "Why are you here?"

The man spluttered and stammered for a solid 12.34 seconds before he found his voice. "Um... I'm so sorry, my lord. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It won't happen..." He trailed off, his babbling becoming less and less coherent.

I changed the message. "I'm not mad. I want to know why you are stuck in such an awkward position."

"Why?" The man looked at me. "Why? Um... I'm in the stocks. Because I spilled wine. As you decreed, all mass makers shall be punished."

Was this my fault? I quickly reviewed everything I had said or done since coming to the city and realized, no, this was not my fault. Never once had I made the instructions that would lead any reasonably-minded person to behave in such a way. So whose fault was it?

"Where did you hear such a thing?" I asked.

"Well, Lord, all the priests. After you cleaned up the city, it was quite clear that we shouldn't spoil your hard work," the man explained.

I sat there and felt my brushes twitch in my underbelly as I tried to process their logic. There were definitely some misunderstandings here." It seems that we've had some misunderstandings," I projected. "I've sorted them out around the city. But we should talk about doctrine."

I was reasonably certain that this was his fault, but at the same time, he shouldn't have been able to do this. Evidently, we'd all failed to educate the people properly in some way. What had Arthur and the Warden been doing when we left them in charge?

I pulled out my Divine Sword, and I could hear a ripple of gasps echo throughout the crowd kneeling in the distance. The man shuddered and tried to flinch back, but the wood wouldn't let him. The stockade held them in place, allowing only tears to start falling as he babbled with increased urgency.

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With a quick stroke, I cut the lock and the hinges on each side of the stockade. The wood stayed in place for a moment before I blasted off the top half, allowing a gust of air to suck the remains of everything into my dustbin. The man lay there, his head and arms still left in the lower portions of the slots. He shuddered, eyes pressed closed, until I reached out and tapped him on the nose with my arm.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked around before yanking his arms free and furiously scratching at his nose. "My lord," he said in a surprised tone.

"Go," I said. "Change your shirt. Don't make a mess. But those that do so incidentally are not to be harmed." I projected the final bit above visible for everyone to see.

There were mutterings in the crowd and angry murmurs from the white-robed cultists. I moved down the line of stockades, freeing each person after I had a chance to talk to them. All were guilty of some sort of crime in the cult's eyes, but none were actually guilty. One woman had let her child and dog track mud everywhere in the house, and she had been there for hours.

That was until I reached the end. When I asked the last man why he was there, he looked at me dispassionately and then didn't answer. I studied him. He was half-balding, with an ugly scar pulling at his cheek, but something in his dark eyes told me that this wasn't the same case as the others.

A look at his soul reinforced my conclusion. It wasn't completely dark, but a single massive stain covered its greyish surface in a deep inky black.

I turned and projected a question to the crowd. "Why is he here?"

A few bystanders spoke up. "Um, lord? He killed one of the priests."

"Cut her damn head off!"

"That man sinned against you, lord!"

"He committed murder. For coin!"

I looked at the man and read his features. "Is this true?"

He just continued to scowl, refusing to meet my eyes. Looking around, I didn't see anyone standing up in his defense, but they hadn't defended the innocent either, so I suppose that was not anything to really stake my decision on.

Still, I cut him free, But instead of letting them go, I grabbed him by the back of his neck. "He'll stand trial," I projected before I flew up and made my way back to the palace. Beatrice or Arthur would be able to handle this. I was sure of it.

We hadn't had much cause for disciplinary action at the castle, but occasionally soldiers did misbehave. Arthur was never too concerned, claiming it was soldiers being soldiers. He said you'd always have drunken brawls and some thieving, along with other misdeeds. Nothing ever went too far, but it did require reports and examination, and then he met out appropriate punishment. Most of the time, it was extra duty or the like, though occasionally, people did get imprisoned for a week or so.

I wasn't sure what the punishment for his crime was, but I imagine it would be very extreme. A lot more than anything we had to deliver in camp, aside from that one time I'd tracked down a murderous nobleman.. But at the same time, the man deserved a fair hearing.

I dropped him off at the jail. It had been reconstructed after the fight with all the demons, and now there was plenty of space inside. The Warden took him in with no question. I explained that he was to be held and watched until a trial could be arranged, and the guards took him away before locking him in a cell deep underground.

Returning to the city, I found three other such instances of supposedly "lawful" punishment by members of the cult or just random civilians. Each time, I interrogated the prisoners and judged them based on their body language, souls, and the reactions of the crowd if they were telling the truth.

A few more people were quickly airdropped to the jail, but most of these poor souls I set free. Each time, I made it a point to warn the crowds that this was not my will, and I did not want to catch them tying up people for accidentally making a mess. Even if someone intentionally spilled wine, they should have at most gotten a stern talking-to.

Several of the people that I didn't let go, though, were thieves or other such criminals. We had a justice system for a reason, after all. And I'd have to let Beatrice and her people do their job, even if I did need to have a talk with her and Zeal about how to explain the tenets of cleaning to people more properly.

When I returned to the palace, it was several hours later and there was a full on shouting match happening in the courtyard. From the voice profiles, it appeared that Zeal and some of his priests were yelling as Beatrice and Arthur shouted back.

I landed in the center and made a clapping noise by snapping air together. Everything went quiet in a moment as their attention switched over to me. "It seems that we've had some misunderstandings," I projected. "I've sorted them out around the city. But we should talk about doctrine."

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