#aedos valleritignon

[norhimorovine]

Preparing for an invasion. Or planning to get a griffin stoned. 

@brave-horizon @bourgeoisfury @endangered-liaison @theseventhdawn @erstwhile25 @dufresne-bellworks

[rose-in-the-stone-moved]

Delivery for Aedos - 6/18

In the morning hours, a large package is delivered to Manor Valleritignon by a courier sent from House Dufresne: a cumbersome, paper-wrapped thing that -- as far as one could tell by holding it -- is strangely soft beneath its wrappings.  Both this package and the accompanying letter are addressed to the Lady Aedos; the latter written on clean, plain parchment that smells faintly of dried wildflowers and sealed by a nondescript circle of white wax.

When the parcel is opened, the sight of a familiar coat belonging to the intended recipient is there to greet them.  The letter sent with it reads as follows:

To Ser Aedos de Valleritignon, written on this 17th Sun of the Third Umbral Moon, with the warm salutations and incredible gratitude of Gwenneth Gilrouis, in serve to House Dufresne.

Ser Aedos,

I write to you in hopes that my letter finds you in good health and hearty spirits, and that you might forgive me the delay in having this garment returned to you.  I am afraid that you are a fair bit taller than I, and so as much as I attempted to prevent such a thing from occurring, I found that on my return journey to Manor Pepin following the conclusion of the ball, the hem was dragging terribly, and a fulm more besides.  As the streets were very damp that evening, I couldn’t possibly see something loaned to me out of kindness returned without ensuring that it was properly laundered.

For indeed, Ser, it was a kindness, and for that you have my sincerest thanks.  I apologize, however, that I was unable to see it returned to you in person, but at this moment make preparations to return from my long stay at Manor Pepin and situate myself once more in Manor Dufresne.  Perhaps when all is through and we’ve the spare bells to ourselves, we may meet over tea and so make up for my not accepting your gracious offer of hospitality last sennight?

Until then, I pray that the Fury smiles on and keeps you,

With every sincerity,

G. Gilrouis

@bourgeoisfury

[erstwhile25]

On The Subject of Truly Awful Jokes.

((The following is a lead up to why Aedos is in trouble with the Holy See. Pro tip: Never let Kail do the talking))

It had been a good night, one of those rare refuges from the world outside and any sorrow it could muster to chill the spirit. Kail wasn’t fond of the cold, anyone who had spent more than a day in his company could have guessed as much. He preferred the sun beating down, the sand between the toes of bare feet, and just a hint of salt in the air. However he had to admit, that when the freezing winds blew outside with a force to turn marrow to ice, the warmth of the fire inside was simply that much more enjoyable.

Enjoy it they did. Brave, Hyrtwyda, Aedos, and himself had a days worth of chill to chase from their shivering bones. They laughed at the events of the tourney, when Brave and Hyrtwyda had finally faced each other with their summoned carbuncles. They guffawed when Aedos related to them the events of the previous week’s expedition. Through it all they attempted to play cards, but each game seemed to break down when it was realized that Kail was finding new ways to cheat. Every time he was caught cheating, he was made to pay for more drinks, and the more drunk he became, the more he cheated. It was a vicious cycle.

With the coin Kail had won at the day’s festivities (or rather that Brave had won, and he had capitalized on) there was little pause in the drink that flowed to the table. There was no desperation to their foray into libation, as you saw with many fighters and explorers. That almost frantic need to be drunk that caused more trouble than it was worth wasn’t for them. Rather they eased into it, as if drunk was a wife waiting for them at the end of the day. Noses and cheeks turned slightly more red, despite their seats being right next to the fireplace, and their voices slowly and steadily grew louder and louder.

For the most past the crowd at the Forgotten Knight accepted this with good grace, some were even swept up by it, adding to the growing din. It was after all a fantastic night to be drunk. There was however one table at which frosty silence reigned. Kail didn’t know any of the Elezen seated there, but he knew the type. There had been no end of changes in Ishgard of late, recent events had shifted the very foundations of the city. Where once had been a nation ruled by the iron law of the Church of Halone, now stood a republic governed by houses of the people. As with any power struggle, those who were given power were content, and those from who it was wrested were not. While the multitude of the church had been more or less docile in stepping down from the seat of power, not all did it with a smile.

The Inquisition had been the branch hit hardest by the change, before now their purpose had been clear cut, their power absolute, and when there was very little argument as to what constituted a heretic in the faith of Halone. Kail could only wonder what it was like to chisel such lines in the stone, only to see them shift like so much sand. By the symbols of Halone stitched into their cuffs, and the frosty silence between them that matched the outside chill, he suspected the table of Elezen knew from first hand experience.

It wasn’t long before one, a tall drink of water even by their standards with coal black hair and features sharp enough to cut yourself on, rose to his feet and sauntered over to their table. He offered a stiff bob of a bow to Aedos and then spoke in a rum rich voice that cut through the din with the ease of one used to public speaking. “Madam Valleritignon?”

Aedos looked up mid-sip, swallowing in a fit of giggles that was passing around the table, she shushed the others before straightening out her tunic and comporting herself. “May I help you ser…?” “Costos…I am a friend of your sister, and I simply wished to introduce myself and meet the woman she speaks highly of.” Kail didn’t know much about Aedo’s home life, but there was something about that statement that unbalanced the woman. She was struggling to reach for words, her composure showing cracks. Costos spoke on “She spoke at length on the impeccable nature of your character..” his eyes swept with barely hidden disapproval at the other faces at the table “and of the sterling character of those you surround yourself with.”

Brave started to rise, the look on her face spoke clear as to what purpose. Hyrtwyda’s hand found her shoulder halfway out her seat though, and a slight shake of the Roe’s head dissuaded her from anything rash. Before anyone could look his way or suggest any sort of sense, Kail was out of his seat, and alighted upon their table with a slight drunken sway. Costos immediately took a few frantic steps back, his hand going to a cross-hilted sword on his belt. No attack came however, instead the grey haired pirate grinned at the collection of eyes now upon them. The entire inn was silent, waiting for violence to ensue.

“Ye ser…are obviously a fella in need oh a lark.” Kail grunted and swayed dangerously towards the edge of his perch, strangely enough his feet wove deftly in between the cups, cards, and piles of coin there, spilling neither. Recovering he gave a low bow and swept an arm out that seemed to draw in the onlookers even closer. “Fortunately for ye…I’ve jokes aplenty!”

Both Hyrtwyda and Brave attempted to signal Kail as to the poor footing of his current path, with warnings that ranged from the covert cough and glance, to the overt hand signals of impending doom. He barreled on however, clearing his throat, if these lads were going to hate him, he was going to give them a damn good reason.

“There once were three dragon siblins that lived in a mountain above a valley. Eldest Brother Kyrwyn, Middle Sister Saffyrn, and Least Brother Boswyk, shared their cavernous home in relative peace, with the occasional bout of boredom only every century or so. They amused themselves during these centuries, by watching the folk that lived below in the valley, much as children watch ants building a mound. They enjoyed watching the people scurry too and fro, workin in their fields, bakin their bread, and buildin their houses, their town shifting back and forth like a river in the immortal eyes of the dragon brood. Sometimes the three dragons would even disguise themselves and walk amongst the people of the village, Least Brother Boswyk in particular was fond of stealing pies from window sills while lookin fer all the world like a fair haired little cherub. It was in fact, during one of these outings that he saw something both strange and unsettling. He heard a great bell tollin in the middle of the town from a great stone building, suddenly every townsperson young, old, small, and tall, dropped what they were doing and headed fer the immense stone vault.

They lined up in the wooden seats and packed in full. When the last of the available spaces were finally filled, they waited in silence till a tall man with a long beard and a great staff went to the front, and began to talk. He spoke of virtue and he spoke of guilt, of the great tall mountains, and the wee fishes. He told them how men could stand tall if but to trust in the skies, and he spoke of men’s cruelty to those he loved. Most concernedly t'Least Brother Boswyk, he told of how stealing pies was wrong, and only the most cruel punishments awaited thieves.

Now Least Brother Boswyk had never heard of stealin afore. He’d thought those pies were fer anyone who came along, but it scared him something frightful t'think what those folks would do t'him iffin they found out. So’s he ran as fast his little legs could carry him back t'the cavern oh his siblings, wailing all the way there.

Well Eldest Brother Kyrwyn heard his brother snuffling and asked him what was wrong, so’s he told him. Only it didn’t come out quite right cause of all of Least Brother Boswyk’s blubberin. Well cause he loved his little brother, Eldest Brother Kyrwyn decided to go down and see what all the fuss was about, disguisin himself as a strappin young man taller than most. He waited till the folk gathered in the great stone house, and went on in to have a talk with the old man therein.

He returned later that day, with a strange look on his face, and his siblins asked him what was wrong. ‘I asked the old man how one might atone for crimes committed. He said that crimes were forgiven unto those who picked up a sword and fought in their family’s name. I have no wish to fight though, for surely pies are not worth spilling blood.’

To this Middle Sister Saffryn heartily agreed, and suggested that perhaps Eldest Brother Kyrwyn hadn’t asked in the right manner. She said she would go back t'town the next time they gathered and ask in his stead. So eventually the day came, and the bells rung, and Middle Sister Saffryn went t'town disguised as a beautiful young willowy lass, dressed in sunshine and wreathed in flowers.

Well it wasn’t too long before she too came back looking crestfallen, and a little shame faced. Her brothers asked her what was wrong, to which Middle Sister Saffryn replied 'I asked the old man how one might avoid violence, and he told me I should wear more clothes, and not put wicked thoughts in the minds of young men. Am I so horrible?’

Her brothers assured her that she was not. Twas at this time that Least Brother Boswyk had decided his family had gone through enough on his behalf, and iffin they could not reason peace with the old man in the stone vault, then they would buy it. He loaded a satchel with some of the gold they hoarded in the back, enough to buy hundreds of pies, and six bakeries on top of that. Dragging the satchel behind him, he went to go reason with the old man in the vault.

Twas later that day that he returned, with no satchel, but more or less in one piece. His siblings ran out to greet him, happy their brother was whole. They asked him if all was well, if all was forgiven. 'Well I don’t know about that..’ said Least Brother Boswyk 'but my pockets are empty and my ass sure is sore’”

Kail finished with his arms spread wide, as if he’d just unraveled the mysteries of life and the universe. Aedos snapped her mouth shut, for it had been wide open, and started to look like she wanted to crawl into her tankard to escape the moment of silence that followed the joke finishing. Brave and Hyrtwyda both shook in their chairs, and kept their hands clamped on their mouths. If looks could kill, Costa’s would have been loading the trebuchet. It started small and in the back, the snickering. It caught though, like a small fire that realized it wasn’t destined to be smothered. Soon it was full throated laughter, to which Hyrtwyda, Kail, Brave, and finally Aedos joined in. The other tables of the inn began howling and clapping their tankards on the table, asking for another round. Well…all except the table with Halone’s devout, they simply stared on, clutching their glasses, while the room laughed as one.

[vexredain]

Little Ladies’ Day 2017: The formation of a new idol group with @goringblade, @bourgeoisfury, @poor-rhyan, @tailero-tilero.

[momodeary]

Aedos de Valleritignon ~ for @bourgeoisfury

A lover of smoked trout and pastries ♥

[deusace]

FE Commission for @bourgeoisfury of her character Aedos Valleritignon!~ Had a lot of fun with this one.

[heavens-light-and-hells-ice]

Ishgardian Orthodox wedding transcript

(( For the wedding of Rosaire Ledigne and Gwenneth Gilrouis, we attempted to create an “Ishgardian Orthodox feel” by adapting what we were able to find and translate of late medieval Catholic wedding customs, especially those from the Sarum Rite, with adjustments for game lore.

For those curious who were unable to attend or may be thinking of attempting similar projects in their own RP, below is a trimmed-and-edited transcript of the wedding for your reading pleasure, with ceremony parts in bold, plus select audience reactions. ))

Judielle Farendaire: "Lo, we assemble here for honoring, in the presence of Halone and all the saints, the joining together of two bodies, that of this man, Rosaire Ledigne, and this woman, Gwenneth Gilrouis, so that they may be made one body in the faith and law of the Fury."

Gwenneth Gilrouis steals a glance to her right, her own expression breaking into something that dispels the dumbstruck nervousness that had settled onto her face and shows instead a split second of unbridled joy -- and is that relief?  But, just as quickly as she’d dared to look, her attention is on Judielle again, all solemnity.

Judielle Farendaire: "Wherefore I admonish, by Halone, the Fury, all you present here, that if any among you there be who may know some lawful impediment to exist between these persons such that they may not be able to be joined together in lawful matrimony, let it now be openly declared and shown." 

Riven Pendragon flicks her gaze around, fingers flexing slightly. Kail Gerrad glances around the room at the last phrase, a dagger slipping out his sleeve...just in case. Gwenneth Gilrouis holds her breath despite herself, waiting. Judielle Farendaire blinks and narrows her gaze slightly on Kail in consternation. Martiallais Heuloix reaches over and gives Kail a nudge, shaking his head slightly.

Judielle Farendaire: "Likewise I admonish you both, as you will answer before Halone on the day you come before Her throne, that if either of you know any impediment such that you may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, you now confess it." 

Kail Gerrad gives an innocent shrug, the dagger dissapearing as soon as it appeared. Gwenneth Gilrouis gives Judielle the slightest shake of her head, keeping her silence; smiling instead. Rosaire Ledigne breathes, drawing himself up tall, dignified. Azette Sejois smirks in approval towards Kail, then shifts her attention back to the couple-to-be.

Judielle Farendaire: "Let be displayed forthwith the license for solemnizing matrimony, exempted from the proclamation of banns, between the aforesaid Rosaire Ledigne and Gwenneth Gilrouis, in writing, with the seal of the Most Reverend Bishop, dated the twentieth sun of the Fourth Umbral Moon of the fifth year of the Seventh Astral Era." 

Judielle Farendaire: Judielle betrays a faint smile as she turns her gaze to Rosaire.  "Rosaire Ledigne, have you come here to enter into marriage freely and wholeheartedly, without coercion, to form a bond that lasts until death, and to accept the gift of children lovingly and to bring them up according to the law of Halone and Her Church?" 

Rosaire Ledigne: "I have." 

Judielle Farendaire: "Gwenneth Gilrouis, have you come here to enter into marriage freely and wholeheartedly, without coercion, to form a bond that lasts until death, and to accept the gift of children lovingly and to bring them up according to the law of Halone and Her Church?"

Gwenneth Gilrouis: "I have."

Judielle Farendaire: "Rosaire Ledigne, will you have this woman, Gwenneth Gilrouis, for your wife and spouse, and love and honor her, and keep and guard her, as a husband should a wife, and forsake all other women besides her and cleave to her alone, as long as you both shall live?" 

Rosaire Ledigne: "I will."

Judielle Farendaire: "Gwenneth Gilrouis, will you have this man, Rosaire Ledigne, for your spouse and husband, and love and honor him, obey and serve him, and keep him in sickness and in health, as a wife should a husband, and forsake and put away all men besides him and cleave to him alone, as long as you both should live?" 

Gwenneth Gilrouis draws in a breath; lets it out, staying the well of rising emotion.  "I will."

Judielle Farendaire smiles warmly to Gwenneth before saying, "As it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands and declare your consent before Halone and Her Church."

Rosaire Ledigne turns to Gwenneth to take her right hand gently in his. Again that staid expression dissolves, and he looks upon her with tenderness for a breathless moment before he summons the powers of speech.

Rosaire Ledigne: "I, Rosaire, take you, Gwenneth, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death us do part, if Holy Church will it ordain. And thereto I plight unto you my troth."

Shinorah Nightsbane nods a bit.

Gwenneth Gilrouis steps forward, extending her right hand and its barely perceptible trembling, and likewise, for much the same reasons, has trouble finding her words.  When she does, finally, they're given with an earnest smile.

Gwenneth Gilrouis: "I, Gwenneth, take you, Rosaire, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to be gentle and obedient in bed and at board, till death do us part, if Holy Church will it ordain. And thereto I plight unto you my troth." 

Judielle Farendaire: "May the Fury strengthen and bless the consent you have declared before the Church, so that what Halone has joined, no one may put asunder." 

Judielle Farendaire turns her gaze outwards to those assembled, outstretching her arms as she proclaims, "Let us praise the Fury."

Perrine Pepin: "Praise be to Halone." Martiallais Heuloix: "Praise be to Halone.:" Riven Pendragon: "Praise be to Halone." Keldorin Lumont: "Praise be to Halone." Aedos Valleritignon: "Praise be to Halone." Elliot Cadieux: "Praise be to Halone." Milloux Allard: "Praise be t' Halone." Brave Horizon's eye open wide. There was audience participation? Rosaire Ledigne remains in silent fascination, just looking at Gwenneth and smiling. Kail Gerrad glances around. Martiallais Heuloix simply nods. Seya Braisaux looks at her companion, Dogsbane. Shinorah Nightsbane: "Ah, so sayeth we all" Kail Gerrad: "Aye...what she said."

Rosaire Ledigne ... shakes it off, then turns back to Mother Judielle, producing for her inspection a small gold band. Such fine detail is likely visible only to her and to his bride, but etched on the surface is a motif of winding sweetbriar with roses in bloom.

Gwenneth Gilrouis stares up, wondering.  For a moment she seems about to say something, until she's jogged from her reverie and, from her own hand, passes toward Judielle a second, broad gold ring with care.

Judielle Farendaire smiles warmly to the both of them before procuring holy water, sprinkling it on both rings as she says, "Bless, O Fury, these rings, so that those who wear them may remain faithful to each other, abide in Your will, and live always in mutual charity. So may it be."

Keldorin Lumont: "So may it be." Aedos Valleritignon: "So may it be." Martiallais Heuloix: "So may it be." Perrine Pepin: "So may it be." Riven Pendragon: "So may it be." Seya Braisaux: "So may it be." Tristeaux Demorelle: "So may it be." Kail Gerrad: "So may it be." Milloux Allard: "So may it be." Shinorah Nightsbane: "So may it be" Azette Sejois hums something that sounds similar to those words. Brave Horizon: "S-so may it be," she says, a half beat later than everyone else.

Brave Horizon blushes and just decides to let the Ishgardians do all the talking from now on, she'll reply in her heart. 

Judielle Farendaire: "Rosaire, pray take the right hand of Gwenneth." 

Rosaire Ledigne ... can't... actually take Gwenneth's hand at the same he holds the ring, having only one good hand. So he simply extends the ring towards her; she must raise up her hand of her own accord to meet it.

Rosaire Ledigne: "With this ring I wed you, and this gold and silver I give you. And with my body I worship you, and with all my worldly goods I honor you."

Gwenneth Gilrouis blinks once, immobile as she watches her intended and...not quite getting the cue until the next moment when, lowering her eyes in a brief show of apology, she lifts her hand toward him. 

Rosaire Ledigne lowers his voice to a murmur as he touches the ring to her thumb; "In the name of Halone," and then to her index finger, "the Fury," and to the next finger, "and Her Blessed Spear," and then finally slides it onto her fourth finger, with her assistance: "So may it be."

Judielle Farendaire: "Gwenneth, pray take the right hand of Rosaire."

Gwenneth Gilrouis reaches up, taking one large hand in her very small own.

Rosaire Ledigne lowers his eyes, soft, to watch. 

Gwenneth Gilrouis: "With this ring I wed you, and with my body I worship you, and with all my worldly goods I honor you."

Gwenneth Gilrouis, with that same reverence, touches the ring to his thumb. "In the name of Halone.” She moves the ring to his index finger, "the Fury," she says, and then to his middle finger, "and Her Blessed Spear," and carefully works the ring onto his fourth finger and releases it with: "So may it be."

Judielle Farendaire turns her gaze to Rosaire expectantly.

Rosaire Ledigne spends a moment staring down at his hand before turning back to Mother Judielle, producing next a copy of the Enchiridion, its cover burnished and beautiful; a little clumsily, he balances it on his less-useful left hand while placing upon its cover two coins, one of silver and of gold. 

Judielle Farendaire solemnly sprinkles the coins of silver and of gold with holy water, proclaiming, "Bless, O Fury, these tokens that Rosaire will give to Gwenneth, and pour over them the abundance of your good gifts. So may it be."

Martiallais Heuloix: "So may it be." Aedos Valleritignon: "So may it be." Milloux Allard: "So may it be." Perrine Pepin: "So may it be." Elliot Cadieux: "So may it be." Kail Gerrad mutters in a lowered voice. Kail Gerrad: "What's with the coins?" Kail Gerrad: "oh and So may it be." Seya Braisaux: "So may it be." Riven Pendragon: "So may it be." Shinorah Nightsbane: "So may it be" Brave Horizon: "So may it be."

Rosaire Ledigne: "Gwenneth, receive these coins as a pledge of the Fury's blessing and a sign of the good gifts we will share."

Kail Gerrad: "Aaaaaaaah." Martiallais Heuloix nods slowly.

Gwenneth Gilrouis, out of reflex, reaches to assist, but stops herself just as she begins the motion, waiting instead to receive the book.

Rosaire Ledigne extends the Enchiridion to Gwenneth.

Gwenneth Gilrouis takes it with a held breath, not trusting her own hands, perhaps, and the faintest laugh escapes her when she doesn't allow it to topple to the floor.

Judielle Farendaire: "Let us pray."

Martiallais Heuloix lowers his head.

Rosaire Ledigne takes his cane into his right hand once again to help him make his way down onto the floor. Once kneeling, he lays it down beside him, then looks up at Judielle -- and then past her, towards the statue of Halone, in solemn piety.

Gwenneth Gilrouis sinks to her knees, the layers of her gown spread around her.

Judielle Farendaire raises her arms outstretched as the bride and groom kneel, proclaiming, "O Halone, Blessed Fury, Mother of Coerthas, Savior of Ishgard: grant Your blessing upon these, Your servants, this man and this woman, so that they might be armed with the power of Your heavenly protection and uphold the covenant."

Judielle Farendaire: "Bless, O Fury, this ring and this vow, so that they may ever abide in love and harmony and obedience to Your laws, and that through them Your will be done and the holiness of Your domain ever increased. So may it be."

Brave Horizon frowns at poor Rosaire being forced to kneel.

Judielle Farendaire joins the right hands of Rosaire and Gwenneth, saying, "Those whom Halone has joined together, let no man put asunder."

Judielle Farendaire raises her gaze once more to those assembled.

Judielle Farendaire: "Forasmuch as this man Rosaire desires this woman Gwenneth to be his wife in the Fury, and this woman Gwenneth desires this man Rosaire to be her husband in the Fury, and one has made the other a promise of holy matrimony, and have now both professed the same openly, and have confirmed it with the giving of rings to each other and the joining of hands: I pronounce that they be joined together with lawful and Halonic matrimony, and I confirm this, their marriage, in the name of Halone, the Fury."

Elliot Cadieux is pretty much ready to cry. Gwenneth Gilrouis' hand still quivers, though the man who is to be her husband may feel the light pressure of her holding on a little more tightly than she needs as she raises her other hand, briefly, to her eyes. Mandalina Bouchard isn't crying YOU'RE CRYING. Rosaire Ledigne squeezes back very gently, looking at her with a slight, crooked smile.

Judielle Farendaire raises her right hand in front of her, motioning the sign of the Fury's Spear as she proclaims, "Halone bless, preserve, and keep you; the Fury turn Her gracious countenance upon you and so fill you with all spiritual benediction, for the remission of sins, that you may so live together in this life and in the world to come. So may it be."  She cannot help but smile for the both of them.

Milloux Allard watched the two silently, guarded expression softening some and a smile forming, as she glanced between them.

Rosaire Ledigne takes up his cane again and uses it to push himself to his feet. It's a bit of a struggle, especially dressed, as he is, in his best finery; but he's practiced, and he manages, with considerable effort and a bit of worrying sway.

Brave Horizon pulls out a handkerchief and begins mopping up her leaking eyes. Perrine Pepin rises, her eyes on Rosaire, but he's got this! On his own! Good job! Aedos Valleritignon hops to Gwenneth's side to help her rise. Martiallais Heuloix likewise seems to be eyeing Rosaire but gives an approving nod when he rises under his own strength.

Judielle Farendaire turns to the opened doors of the main body of the cathedral and begins to walk forward in the full solemnity of the occasion. 

Gwenneth Gilrouis moves to rise, unwilling to release Rosaire’s hand, at first, but begrudgingly does so to allow him the easier mobility of rising up.  She casts a quick glance to Perrine, and then to Aedos, murmuring her gratitude as the knight helps her to her feet. 

Rosaire Ledigne comes up to his place at the right, looking first upon the statue of Halone and then towards Gwenneth, resting a rapt gaze on her, drinking deeply of this sight.

Elliot Cadieux || A psalm sung by a chorus echos throughout the hall as the assembly enters the sanctuary.

Elliot Cadieux: ♪ "Blessed are they that fear the Fury and walk in Her ways."

Elliot Cadieux: ♪ "For thou shalt eat the labors of thine hands; O well is thee, and happy shalt thou be."

Elliot Cadieux: ♪ "Thy wife shall be as the fruitful vine upon the walls of thine house,"

Elliot Cadieux: ♪ "Thy children like fruiting branches round about thy table."

Elliot Cadieux: ♪ "Lo, thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the Fury."

Elliot Cadieux: ♪ "The Fuy in the First Heaven shall so bless thee, that thou shalt see Her mountain in prosperity all thy life long;"

Elliot Cadieux: ♪ "Yea, that thou shalt see thy children's children, and peace upon the land."

Rosaire Ledigne lowers himself to the floor once more, a little less gracefully this time.

Gwenneth Gilrouis takes a moment, once she stops, to catch her breath.  Watching Judielle, and in a mirror of Rosaire, looking to Halone -- though with the strange suggestion of a question on her face, before her gaze drifts to the right, where it stays on the groom as she sinks to the floor again.

Judielle Farendaire glances down to Rosaire with a twinge of a frown of concern. 

Judielle Farendaire raises her arms as she proclaims, "Halone, have mercy upon us," keeping them held aloft.

Aedos Valleritignon: "Fury, have mercy upon us." Rosaire Ledigne: "Fury, have mercy upon us." Martiallais Heuloix: "Fury, have mercy upon us." Elliot Cadieux: " Fury, have mercy upon us." Keldorin Lumont: "Fury, have mercy upon us." Perrine Pepin: "Fury, have mercy upon us." Gwenneth Gilrouis's static smile wavers into a rather obvious show of concern...which shifts to wordless encouragement.  "Fury, have mercy upon us." Kail Gerrad: "Woman leave us be." Milloux Allard: "Fury, 'ave mercy upon us." Martiallais Heuloix gives a quiet exhale. Riven Pendragon: "Fury have mercy upon us."

Judielle Farendaire: "Save Your servant and Your handmaid,"

Rosaire Ledigne: "Who put their trust in You." Aedos Valleritignon: "Who put their trust in You." Martiallais Heuloix: "Who put their trust in You." Martiallais Heuloix: "Who put their trust in You." Gwenneth Gilrouis: "Who put their trust in You." Perrine Pepin: "Who put their trust in You." Keldorin Lumont: "Who put their trust in You." Riven Pendragon: "Who put their trust in You."

Judielle Farendaire: "Send them help, O Fury, from Your Heaven,"

Rosaire Ledigne: "And evermore defend them." Keldorin Lumont: "And evermore defend them." Aedos Valleritignon: "And evermore defend them." Perrine Pepin: "And evermore defend them." Martiallais Heuloix: "And evermore defend them." Riven Pendragon: "And evermore defend them." Seya Braisaux: "And evermore defend them." Gwenneth Gilrouis: "And evermore defend them." Azette Sejois rubs her forehead at the prayer, hand shaking a little. Milloux Allard: "An' evermore defend them."

Judielle Farendaire: "Be upon them a tower of strength,"

Rosaire Ledigne: "From the face of their enemy." Keldorin Lumont: "From the face of their enemy." Aedos Valleritignon: "From the face of their enemy." Gwenneth Gilrouis: "From the face of their enemy." Seya Braisaux: "From the face of their enemy." Martiallais Heuloix: "From the face of their enemy." Milloux Allard: "From th' face of their enemy." Riven Pendragon: "From the face of their enemy." Perrine Pepin: "From the face of their enemy."

Judielle Farendaire: "Halone, hear our prayer."

Rosaire Ledigne: "And let our cry come unto You." Aedos Valleritignon: "And let our cry come unto You." Kail Gerrad mutters under his breath. "We've got yer back m'dear." Keldorin Lumont: "And let our cry come unto You." Gwenneth Gilrouis: "And let our cry come unto You." Martiallais Heuloix: "And let our cry come unto You." Perrine Pepin: "And let our cry come unto You." Shinorah Nightsbane nods in agreement and squeezes his hand. Milloux Allard: "An' let our cry come unto You." Brave Horizon shifts uncomforably as the prayer is recited.

Rosaire Ledigne bows his head. At the same time, one of the assistants steps forward, holding a pure white cloth. As he drapes it over the bride, it billows, covering her body entirely; the end he drapes over the groom's shoulders, partly covering him as well. 

Judielle Farendaire: "O Halone, O Fury, bless these Your children, and sow the seed of salvation in their hearts, that whatsoever they may learn for their betterment, they strive to fulfill in deed. Look, O Halone, down from heaven, and bless them, that they, obeying Your will, ever be under Your protection and abide in Your love unto their lives' end. So may it be." 

Gwenneth Gilrouis bows her head as well, allowing the cloth to fall over her; she holds her breath, her eyes welling as she stares down at the floor at her knees.

Judielle Farendaire: "O Fury, look favorably upon Your servant and Your handmaid. Let them receive the blessing of the Heavenly One, so their children to the third and fourth generations may be piously and virtuously brought up to Your praise and honor, and to do Your bidding on earth. So may it be."

Judielle Farendaire: "O Fury, grant unto Your servant and Your handmaid Your righteousness, that both this man may love his wife as You love Your people, defending and cherishing them, and also that this woman may be loving and amiable, faithful and chaste. O Fury, bless them, so that they may reach Your Heaven and join Your blessed. So may it be."

Judielle Farendaire: "Almighty Fury, pour upon Your servants the riches of Your grace, and sanctify and bless them, so that they may please You in both body and soul and in true love live together unto their lives' end. So may it be."

Rosaire Ledigne raises his head as the attendant lifts the veil off the couple. He picks up his cane to lever himself up onto his feet once more -- he may be tiring, for this time the procedure is much more laborious, and he grunts a bit trying to lift and steady his appreciable weight. But he manages neither to collapse nor to topple over backwards, even though his face in the dim candlelight has grown a bit sweaty.

Gwenneth Gilrouis releases the shuddering breath she'd been holding as the veil is removed from over her, and rises, slowly and half in a daze.

Judielle Farendaire offers Rosaire a reassuring smile. Perrine Pepin subtly shifts forward, ready but again not needed. Rosaire Ledigne returns the smile with what was probably intended to be a smile but looks more of an uncomfortable grimace.

Judielle Farendaire raises her arms once more, proclaiming, "May Halone, the Fury, keep you of one heart in love for one another."

Rosaire Ledigne: "So may it be." Aedos Valleritignon: "So may it be." Martiallais Heuloix: "So may it be." Perrine Pepin: "So may it be." Gwenneth Gilrouis: "So may it be," she whispers. Riven Pendragon: "So may it be." Tristeaux Demorelle: "So may it be." Kail Gerrad: "So may it be." Shinorah Nightsbane: "So may it be" Seya Braisaux: "So may it be." Judielle Farendaire: "May you be blessed in your children, have solace in your friends, and live in harmony with all Her people."

Rosaire Ledigne: "So may it be." Martiallais Heuloix: "So may it be." Perrine Pepin: "So may it be." Aedos Valleritignon: "So may it be." Seya Braisaux: "So may it be." Gwenneth Gilrouis: "So may it be." Keldorin Lumont: "So may it be."

Brave Horizon: "So may it be." Tristeaux Demorelle: "So may it be." Milloux Allard: "So may it be."

Judielle Farendaire: "May you ever be the instrument of Her spear and see justice done, so that all worthy may enter Her Halls."

Martiallais Heuloix: "So may it be." Rosaire Ledigne: "So may it be." Keldorin Lumont: "So may it be." Aedos Valleritignon: "So may it be." Perrine Pepin: "So may it be." Riven Pendragon: "So may it be." Tristeaux Demorelle: "So may it be." Gwenneth Gilrouis: "So may it be." Seya Braisaux: "So may it be." Kail Gerrad: "So may it be." Shinorah Nightsbane: "So may it be"

Judielle Farendaire: "And may all of you who are gathered here be blessed, by Halone, the Fury, and Her Blessed Spear."

Aedos Valleritignon: "So may it be." Keldorin Lumont: "So may it be." Martiallais Heuloix: "So may it be." Rosaire Ledigne: "So may it be." Brave Horizon: "So may it be." Perrine Pepin: "So may it be." Seya Braisaux: "So may it be." Gwenneth Gilrouis: "So may it be." Tristeaux Demorelle: "So may it be." Martiallais Heuloix dips his head in a nod, at that. Azette Sejois growls at that final statement and looks away from the priest. Aedos Valleritignon touches a hand from her forehead to her chest. Shinorah Nightsbane shifts a bit in her seat, smiling politely. Riven Pendragon: "So may it be."

Judielle Farendaire glance between Rosaire and Gwenneth with a wide smile before finally bidding all assembled, "Go in peace, sons and daughters of Halone, and by your deeds, bring Her honor and glory."

Martiallais Heuloix: "Praise be to Halone." Elliot Cadieux: "Praise be to Halone." Perrine Pepin: "Praise be to Halone." Keldorin Lumont: "Praise be to Halone." Aedos Valleritignon: "Praise be." Brave Horizon: "So m--praise be to Halone." Gwenneth Gilrouis: "Praise....praise be to Halone." Kail Gerrad: "Luck t'yer house." Riven Pendragon: "Praise be to Halone."

Rosaire Ledigne remains silent, turning to Gwenneth, a slight, uneven, but perfectly contented smile on his face. His hand cannot take hers, gripping tight to his cane, but he offers her his elbow instead. Gwenneth Gilrouis beams her gratitude at Judielle, bowing her head low before turning that bright, unbridled smile to Rosaire, and takes the offered elbow. Aedos Valleritignon claps for Rosaire Ledigne. Kail Gerrad claps for Gwenneth Gilrouis. Martiallais Heuloix claps. Riven Pendragon claps. Gwenneth Gilrouis beams with delight at Martiallais Heuloix. Milloux Allard claps for Gwenneth Gilrouis. Martiallais Heuloix nods to Gwenneth Gilrouis. Azette Sejois claps for Gwenneth Gilrouis. Martiallais Heuloix nods to Gwenneth Gilrouis. Azette Sejois claps for Gwenneth Gilrouis. Rosaire Ledigne spends another moment gazing at Gwenneth with that quietly awestruck look, then turns and starts to make his way out, steps slow not chiefly for practicality, but to savor the moment they are in. Aedos Valleritignon claps for Gwenneth Gilrouis. Brave Horizon nods to Arcian. She claps for the newlyweds, then reaches for her hankey again and just uses it to cover her face when she starts to openly sob. Judielle Farendaire looks on with a warm smile, breathing a quiet sigh of relief now that her first performing of matrimony, especially between two grown dear to her, has met its happy end. Gwenneth Gilrouis keeps her eyes ahead -- or at least, she tries; recalling something of a superstition.  But she spares a smile out toward the crowd, and the next up, overly-fond, toward her husband, keeping pace with him as they depart.

   (( The ceremony text was mainly “written” by me, with invaluable additions and help from the players of Gwenneth Gilrouis-now-Ledigne (@rose-in-the-stone), Perrine Pepin (@halonic), and Judielle Farendaire (@judiellefarendaire).

I pieced it together from various sources, mainly The Book of Common Prayer, a version of which is available free online. An extremely useful guide was Maggie Forest's personal article "Pro Sponso et Sponsa". I also adapted some text from a notarial record by Richard Watkins describing Katherine Parr's marriage, Latin translated by Janel Mueller in Katherine Parr: Complete Works & Correspondence. Various stages of a real-world Catholic wedding, either modern or period, were omitted for time considerations, because I did not feel comfortable FFXIV-izing them, or because we don't yet have adequate information about whether analogous rituals exist in Ishgardian Orthodoxy.

Special thanks to Judielle for coming in to play the officiant on short notice, Elliot Cadieux ( @theseventhdawn ) for handling the psalm and taking many screenshots for us (the second one above is his!), as well as all who attended or who wished to attend but were unable, including @erstwhile25, @scrollsfromarebornrealm, @mythrilreflections, @coerthanrobin, @elezenaccountant, @tinycatteandfriends, @bourgeoisfury, @snarksonomy, @brave-horizon, @arcianmartell, @necrologos, @faerie-apples, @dravanian, @elezendad, and @tonberryslantern. ))

[furymint]

!! :o!

Elliot pauses as he is prompted with the question: what do you think of Aedos Valleritignon? He looks at his wine, pauses again, and then downs the rest. “I regard her infinitely better than she regards me. Ser Aedos has everything one desires for field efficiency. She’s swift and ruthless, brave, and driven by faith and mission alike. We share none of those things but faith, and if Halone is kind, that will be enough for we two to keep from trespassing one another again.”

“She is in firm connection with logic, which, I fear, begets a weakness of sentiment. Even if the victim of that disconnect is most often others–” his eyes dance back and forth haughtily, to say ‘myself included’ – “I don’t doubt it will come to reach a conflict within herself. I hope she does not work herself into an emotional deficit. The ways to win battles and save lives are often built on the celerity of decisions, but nothing but long contemplation can catch the mind and heart up to the body.”

He stares at the red residue in his glass. “Reflection has its own dangers in excess, but surely that is preferable to draconian apathy for the sake of a goal.”

[dufresne-bellworks]

The Grand Tournament of the Fury: Final Day Results

The final day of the Grand Tournament of the Fury concluded with perhaps its most exciting event yet: the joust! Brave lancers from across Eorzea gathered to tilt one-one-one in a relentless contest of strength and birdsmanship. Fortune did not hold back on any of the contestants, and many riders went home de-birded!

After many rounds of unseating their opponents, the Bellworks’ own Olivie Heuloix of Limsa Lominsa emerged as Champion of the Lance, with Alabaster Requiem, also of Limsa, as the runner up! Olivie takes home a portrait by Lord Evariste, a Highland Barding, an Orthodox Barding, a Topiary Chocobo, an Oriental Striking Dummy, a Painted Foothills orchestrion roll, and 250,000 gil, while Alabaster takes home 100,000 gil!

With this, our four champions have been named and this year’s Grand Tournament of the Fury has come to a close. The Bellworks would like to extend a special thank-you to: The Ashen Clinic ( @ashen-clinic ) for expertly healing all four events, and for dealing with unexpected surprises (like arrows in knees!). Hana O’hana ( @hana-ohana ) for their delightful vending services during the melee and magic tournaments. Sin’dell Shirazi ( @alluringjewel ) and Perne Archevauliere ( @porcelain-and-blood ) for their dazzling halftime performances.

The Crystal Chronicle for their outstanding reporting coverage of the whole tournament.

Evariste Baudhuin ( @aethericseafarer ) for donating amazing artwork to our four champions.

Rosaire Ledigne ( @eggplant-squire ) and Perrine Pepin ( @halonic ) for crafting all of our outstanding prizes. Brave Horizon ( @brave-horizon ) and Xanadu Mol ( @tonberryslantern ) for being the announcers everyone loved to hate.

Kail Gerrad ( @erstwhile25 ) for taking everyone’s money running the betting tables and for assisting in commentary.

Our arbiters: Martiallais Heuloix ( @mythrilreflections ), Gwenneth Gilrouis ( @rose-in-the-stone ), Valroit Faucheux ( @hasty-touch ), Arcian Martell ( @arcianmartell ), Aedos Valleritignon ( @bourgeoisfury ), Perrine Pepin ( @halonic ), Haru Qwey ( @haru-qwey ), and Marcelloix Dariustel (@korlynn ) for keeping everything running so smoothly. And you -- yes YOU! -- all of Balmung, for your generosity, support, and attendance. The crowd and the competitors were easily the best part of these events, and it was a blast simply watching everyone’s RP and reactions, and getting to interact with you all. We hope you had as much fun as we did -- we couldn’t have done it without you!

We hope you’ll join us all on Friday, June 9th, at 7 PM EST in the Pillars for our Charity Ball, to help us celebrate our four champions and to bid a proper farewell to Ishgard before Stormblood hits. Stay tuned for more info!

[norhimorovine]

Bonding over chocobos. It was nice to get to chat a bit with someone, between supply runs. Miss Valleritignon seems like a pretty neat lady.

@bourgeoisfury

[furymint]

I’m sorry to say: I think we lost.

((@brave-horizon @faucheux-investigates @tea-and-conspiracy @bourgeoisfury @rose-in-the-stone @halonic​ @mythrilreflections​))

Valroit Faucheux sets the plate aside and fetches the tub of ice cream from its cold drawer. Scoop in hand, he soldiers on, attempting to pry out a serving of the frozen substance to add to the plate. Valroit Faucheux wedges the scoop tightly into the hard-frozen ice cream, and with a slight frustrated grunt, bears down with his weight to try to free it. His lack of upper-body strength makes this slow-going, but finally, eventually, he frees it. …But perhaps the subject of the conversation has greased his palms with sweat, and when it does, it goes flying, scoopful of ice cream in place, out of his hand, and sails across the room in Aedos�� direction.

Gwenneth Gilrouis double-takes towards Valroit, and then confusedly off towards wherever something went sailing in an instant.

Perrine Pepin is up and out of her seat and halfway across the room suddenly, for no easily discerned reason…

Valroit Faucheux looks on in horror.

Elliot Cadieux’s mouth makes a perfect ‘O’ and keeps him from warning Aeodos from the splash zone.

Eliane Dufresne almost looks disappointed. “But I found the carbuncle rather fetching. Well, I suppose it *is* more professional this way. Tell me you kept at least one?” She trails off, gawking after the airborne ice cream. She follows it with horror…

Martiallais Heuloix might have been able to stop the projectile if he had his shield. But -someone- told him not to bring it tonight…

Aedos Valleritignon is oblivious to the flight-bound icicle of ice cream, her hand somewhat guarding her face, but the ball of icy dessert sails up and over somewhat comically to come a-plopping down on the top of Aedos’ dome.

Eliane Dufresne couldn’t have prepared for flying ice cream, ok? She’s an astrologian, not a fortune–wait.

Brave Horizon: “One wha–what’s happening? Oh.”

Martiallais Heuloix clears his throat once the room goes quiet. “Ah, perhaps I shall go find a damp towel…”

Aedos Valleritignon stays still, not quite realizing what has happened as quickly as the others around her, though her head does feel a little cold. She raises a hand up to ruffle down her hair which must be out of place, to hind her hair return caked in a slowly melting goop.

Elliot Cadieux decides it’s inappropriate to state karma.

Aedos Valleritignon looks at Valroit for a couple of moments…

Gwenneth Gilrouis stares, unable to process this for a moment, and winces. She’s about to bustle away for a cloth when Martiallais already offered.

Valroit Faucheux stares back in mute horror.

Martiallais Heuloix does hand Ellie her plate of cake and ice cream, however. “Remain still, I shall return with a towel in but a few moments…”

Aedos Valleritignon slowly calculates what must have happened, eyes jumping from the look of terror on Valroit’s face, to the bucket he is holding, to her hand.

Eliane Dufresne: “Who hired the–” And then she’s given cake. Saved by the cake. She doesn’t finish the thought, and gets to eating instead,

Valroit Faucheux: “A…Are you alright, ser!?”

Aedos Valleritignon takes a deep breath and stands, her cheeks brimming over with embarrassment.

Perrine Pepin slides behind the bar to silently take over Valroit’s ice-cream scooping duties.

Martiallais Heuloix: “Ah, there we are… and now to dampen them…”

Valroit Faucheux surrenders the ice cream tub to Perrine, wilting visibly.

Brave Horizon quietly clears her throat and awkwardly looks at the fishes so she’s not staring at Aedos.

Aedos Valleritignon’s eyes begin to moisten as she realizes all eyes are on her and she coughs out something before half-running off and up the stairs, her cough devolving in to somewhat of a sob.

Gwenneth Gilrouis pipes up softly. “It isn’t much, Ser Aedos,” she offers in some attempt to help, shifting awkwardly – and then gives a start as she runs off.

Martiallais Heuloix: “Ser Aedos, wait-”

Eliane Dufresne turns, looking alarmed. “Ah…” Eliane Dufresne: “Oh dear.”

Brave Horizon: “Er…”

Martiallais Heuloix: “Here, I’ve towels. Hold still a moment, I can aid you with the worst of it at the least.”

Valroit Faucheux: “Defeated, mayhap predictably, by ice cream…”

[norhimorovine]

Brave is safe. And free. I’m so glad. I already had enough fodder for nightmares as it was.

@brave-horizon @bourgeoisfury @erstwhile25 @rose-in-the-stone @theseventhdawn

[vexredain]

☕ - Tea or Coffee? How do they take theirs?

With a heavy mixture of alcohol that defeats the purpose of having tea or coffee in the first place. If Vex was left to her own devices when making coffee the mixture could best be described as 20/80 between coffee and rum, respectively. There is milk somewhere in there, but hardly any, some have tried the concoction as it often brings many to tears; the Keeper either doesn’t have many tastebuds left or enjoys the taste. Vex has never been the greatest fan of tea but will begrudgingly drink it if it is the only thing available. She did experiment for a few days of only drinking tea, but eventually attempted to mix rum into it - she never tried this again.

[bourgeoisfury]

Flavien & Aedos

@vexredain

[bourgeoisfury]

School Daze

14 years ago..

A robin danced in the late morning sun, flitting about without a care. The small bird made the oppressive warmth of the day look inviting, fun even. Aedos cradled her head in her hand, her cheek squishing out against her palm. Being a robin would be so nice. A collage of green leaves outside the classroom window rustled, soaking in a pleasant breeze.

An itch tugged at the back of her mind, trying to get her attention.. reminding her of something. The nagging pulled her away from birdwatching, and her heart sank when she turned to find Sister Gertrude staring at her expectantly from beside the blackboard. Several giggles from the other corners of the classroom cut through the silence, and Aedos found herself wishing she could shrink into her chair.

Whilst watching the girl do her best to disappear, Sister Gertrude chastised, “Pay attention, Miss Valleritignon! Now tell me,” she repeated herself, “what is the reason for Our war with the Dravanian Horde?”

Aedos blinked, her cheeks flushing and her head throbbing. She tugged instinctively at one of her twin braids. How long had everyone been staring? How was she supposed to know the answer to that question anyway? She had to say something though, and with each blink of the multitude of eyes around her she could feel her face burning up redder and redder. “U-uhm…D-...Dragons, Miss?��

Well, duh. She could have said something more clever than that. A chorus of insulting giggles followed, through which the embarrassed girl blinked away tears, deciding she best leave, run away. Be somewhere else, anywhere but here, right now. Just before she could muster the courage to leap for the closed window of the classroom and wrench it open, the teacher cleared her throat, resuming their lesson.

“Well, in a sense, yes.” Sister Gertrude’s voice was pleasant and calm, and with a wave of her robed hand Aedos’s embarrassment was forgotten. “By their very nature, dragons are cruel and fierce. We are lucky that there ever existed a peace-time between ourselves and the Dravanians.” Sister Gertrude gave a dramatic pause, stalking the room, allowing the children who were paying attention to mumble questions of their own.

“...And although there was a peace. The treacherous nature of the dragons reared its head before long, and SNAP.” She stopped suddenly in her tracks and clapped her hands in a faux jaw-bite, and excitement rippled through the classroom.

“They fell upon our ancestors with jaws of steel and breath of hellfire!” The Sister hissed and chuckled, beginning to pace the classroom once more. She winked at Aedos, causing the little girl to grin, the embarrassed glow of her cheeks fading.

“Many Ishgardians perished, and many more fled, for how else were they to survive? Yet outmatched and betrayed by their draconic allies, there were those of our ancestors who did not falter. The strongest, brightest, most righteous Ishgardians came together to protect those who could not protect themselves. Under the ever watchful gaze of the Fury, the order of Our Knights Most Heavenly was formed — and they’ve kept the walls of our city safe for a thousand years since.” The silence that had now overcome the classroom brought a polite grin to Gertrude’s face, knowing she now had all of the children’s attention. “Now, can any of you tell me the names of any of our faithful Knights?”

The lesson continued on — a few offers and the occasional innocent query came from the crowd of children, but the pace and direction of the lesson were single-handedly led by Sister Gertrude. Before long, a bell chimed through the hallways and signalled a close to the morning lessons. Hubbub and excitement coursed through the stone halls of Our Lady of Perpetual Grace, doors clicking open and closed, squeals pealing along corridors as lunches were unpacked and exchanged, bargained and hoarded.

Aedos quickly grabbed up her bag and took the girl seated next to her by the hand, pulling her up “Come on, Marion. We’ll lose our spot!” The two young girls raced up to Debrillont and Elmerique who were already halfway out the door. They made their way to the crowded benches of the cafeteria, the quartet of young elezen ladies carving their own spot out at the end of a bench. Once seated, they all began eyeing up each other’s lunches as pouches and boxes were freed from satchels.

As Debrillont leaned over and snagged a honeyed oat biscuit out of Aedos’s lunchbox, she teased, “We almost thought we’d lost you to the fae again, Valerie.” She darted her hand back, prize captured, in time to dodge Aedos’s gawking face and slower arm.

The nickname grated the girl, How many times do I have to tell Deb just to call me Aedos? She had made it clear she didn’t enjoy attention being called to her already comically long surname.

“Hey!” Aedos shoved her bottom lip out and readjusted her oversized glasses as they wobbled down her nose, with Elmerique taking the opportunity to mimic Debrillont’s maneuver and steal another biscuit.

Aedos’s mouth squirmed and she shielded her lunch from any more thieves. Once things seemed settled, she pulled out a neatly folded crepe and broached, “There was a robin outside the window, didn’t you guys see it?”

Marion, the small, mousy-haired elezen smiled and opened her mouth to reply.

“Hey, we should go to the library! The Sisters said they were getting new tomes in!” Debrillont said, completely ignoring Aedos’s question.

Elmerique pricked up at their blonde pack-leader’s proposal, agreeing quickly. Whilst Marion, not quite as keen, shifted her eyes reluctantly as she closed her mouth from being interrupted and pulled the wicker lid of her lunch basket closed.

“Come on, we can grab a look at the good ones before everyone else barges in after they’ve eaten!” Debrillont continued. Not one to waste time, she got up and left her belongings where they were, marching down the hallway in a commanding, determined fashion. The rest of the troop followed shortly behind, bringing their own belongings as well as Deb’s.

Champlechaun’s Fourth Critique of Modern Readings on The Enchiridion, A Twelve Step Guide on How Best to Hide from Dravanian Invaders, How to Tell if Your Spouse is in League with Heretics, and more than two dozen other tomes decorated a small trolley with the sign ‘New Books’. Whilst the other girls murmured and flipped through a few of the pages, Aedos’s eyes were caught on a simple-looking book that seemed to be squeezed on to the bottom of the shelf. Wedged under The Enchiridion and You: In Halone we Trust, was a thin, leather bound book, its pages a faded, greasy yellow. Turning over the leather binding in her hand, she noted the outside was not labelled like most other books seemed to be. Turning past the blank leaflets of the front, she came across a scrawled title. Removing her glasses, and tucking one of the metal arms around a pocket of her backpack, she began to read Dravanian Shapes and Skins recorded by one ‘Eadric the Chaste’.

The journal seemed to outline a number of encounters the writer had either experienced or heard recounted from knights and travelers. The text itself was dry and meandering, but every second or third page held a detailed sketch, done in ink, of claws, or wings, or jaws. For any other Fury-fearing child of eight winters, this might have been the seed of many a restless night, birthing images of nightmarish monsters. But this particular young girl was gripped with a hunger: she dove into the texts and sketches. Absentmindedly, the girl roamed past bookshelves, eyes glued to the pages of the journal, her fingers turning through the parchment and tracing their tips over the scaley images.

Time quickly faded into obscurity as she grew more and more engrossed, no longer bored of the dreary, analytical recounting of battles and sightings. Aedos’s mind found itself focused, nourished and blooming with the book’s fantastical depictions of creatures that commanded strength and ferocity along with beauty and majesty.

When the belltower chimed its signature din to call an end to lunch, Aedos was pulled back to the present by an insistent nudging at her shoulder. The warm brown of Marion’s eyes greeted her as she finally looked up from the book’s pages. “We’ll be late! Come on!”

The would-be dragon-fangirl’s eyes adjusted and she looked over at the desk where the librarian was sitting by the library entrance. Aedos looked back down at the book, still in her hand. She thought of how much more she yearned to study it. It was far-and-away superior to any of the drab Enchiridion extracts that seemed to flood the bookshelves. She should request to borrow the book from the librarian. She should ask them if they had any more texts similar to this one. She should. But a twinge of doubt pricked at her mind. She was running late for class, and the Sisters wouldn’t want that. If she was late, she would be scolded for her tardiness as well as her inattentiveness. The book swiftly slipped from her hand and in to her backpack.

Marion helped Aedos up and the two quickly mustered themselves from the library, their feet pattering back along the emptying corridors and back to their classroom. The two shuffled back to their desks, seemingly not late enough to be reprimanded or snickered at, crossing past Debrillont and Elmerique who were sitting pretty in the second row.

Marion whispered to the little book-thief, “You shouldn’t steal.” And Aedos just gave her a wide-eyed look, about to reply, when Sister Gertrude cleared her throat and called for everyone to take their seats.

Afternoon classes wrapped up two bells later. Debrillont shot up to the front of the classroom, speaking with the teacher, her movements urgent. The rest of the class packed their pens and books and began chatting. Sister Gertrude nodded to Debrillont, and bid her a good afternoon as the girl turned and waved to Aedos. Standing by the door, Sister Gertrude offered her ritual farewell to each of the children in turn as they left.

Aedos gave a quick, chirpy “See you,” to Marion before making her way to exit the classroom. However, when she approached their teacher at the door, the woman did not wish her well.

Instead, Gertrude reservedly requested that Aedos remain behind for a moment. Blinking in confusion, the young elezen agreed, and bid her classmates off with an embarrassed flick of her hand as they all passed.

Once all of the students had left apart from Aedos, the older woman — dressed in her austere red and white Halonic garb — turned toward the confused girl. Gertrude’s countenance was troubled. Wrinkles creasing around her jowls and brow. “Now, I hate to ask this, dear. But do you mind if I have a look in your bag?”

Dread clutched at Aedos’s chest. She failed to stammer out a response, her tongue drying up in her mouth.

Sister Gertrude gently pried up the canvas backpack in question and opened it. At first, she let out a gentle, reassuring hum of forgiveness and apology, preparing to crack a remark about the almost untouched lunchbox. However, the holy sister’s eyes caught a glimpse of something, riveting her on the spot for a heartbeat. She then fished out an otherwise nondescript leather journal from the satchel.

Wincing at the discovery, Aedos piped up, her guilt immediately revealing itself, “Wait! I c-can explain! You see I was just borr-”

Her explanation was cut-off by the very deep furrowing of Gertrude’s face as she began to read from the book. “Oh dear, oh dear,” the nun muttered, colour fading from her already pale face. With a click of her tongue, the sister shook her head and clapped the book shut, “You’ll be coming with me, missy.”

As Aedos grabbed her bag, her other hand was grasped tightly and the girl was whisked down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. They passed a few concerned teachers, and a couple of students that turned on them in terror, watching Sister Gertrude stalk away with Aedos flailing in-tow.

Aedos found herself finally halted, standing in front of a large, ominous red oak door. One hand still on her backpack, the other grasped in her teacher’s palm. Gertrude knocked on the door. A moment later it opened, a woman clad in the familiar white and red Halonic priest attire stood there. This woman’s face seemed to perpetually sag: the downward turn of her facial features illustrating, in equal parts, a harried and perturbed look to any emotion the woman might show. Atop her head sat a small pointed white cap, a thin red spear emblazoned on the front, flanked by rows of shorter, parallel red lines.

“Mother Superior. Please excuse my interruption, but I’ve an urgent matter to discuss.” Sister Gertrude shook the heretical book in her fist, her voice groaning in something akin to fear.

The mother superior nodded and stared at Aedos as she ushered the two of them in to the pale-toned room of her study. A heavy oak desk rested at one end, with several trolleys of books stacked next to the wide window on the opposite wall to the door. Sister Gertrude passed the offensive piece of literature to the other woman and watched as the latter began to flick through its contents. “Mmhmmmmm,” she hummed.

“I’m not sure where she got this. But everything we are grooming these young women to be will be for nought if we have heretical nonsense like this roaming about.”

“Yes. You are quite right.” The woman with the hat replied, continuing to look briefly through the pages before slapping the tome shut and down on to her desk. She turned to Aedos, “Tell me. Where did you get this book?” Any politeness that the young girl might have expected was completely absent: it felt less like a question, and more a command.

“Th-the library,” Aedos stammered.

“Nonsense. Don’t lie to me. Where did you find it?”

“I-I’m not lying. Miss Agathieux, I’m sorr-”

THWACK.

“Show some respect!” Agathieux roared as she slapped the girl’s cheek.

“Y-yes, Mother Superior, sorry.” Aedos’s eyes bored into the floor as she felt her legs go weak, but stayed standing. She touched her burning cheek lightly, hissing reflexively, and then wrung her hands together, entwining her fingers.

“Don’t fidget,” Agathieux reprimanded.

“Yes, Mother Superior. Sorry, Mother Superior.” She clenched her fists and then relaxed them, eyes still turned down.

“If you don’t tell me where you found this book, or who gave it to you, then you will have to be punished.”

“I-” Aedos began, and then swallowed. “I found it with the new books in the library.” She looked up, “I thought it must have been ordered in with the others.”

“We only keep educational material in these walls, little girl. Does this book seem enlightening to you?” Rhetoric seeped from her voice, and it was all Aedos could do to not answer in the affirmative. “Either you are still lying to me. Or something even more worrisome is afoot. Either way, this book is hereby confiscated. And you — you will be put to daily cathedral polishing for the rest of semester as penance; as well as a full week’s suspension from classes and school grounds. Effective immediately.”

The young girl’s eyes went wide and she shot a pleading look at Sister Gertrude, who averted her gaze. Judgement had been passed.

Upon returning to school after her suspension, Aedos was frightened. When she spoke with her friends, they rebuffed her requests to spend lunch together, telling her they were busy. Several times she did sit with them, disregarding their appeals for her to sit elsewhere, but on these occasions she found they wilfully ignored her, talking over her when she spoke. There weren’t even any attempts to steal her food, either, and somehow Aedos found she missed that, too. So she sat alone, and waited for the day when enough time might have passed that they would forgive her, for whatever she had done wrong.

Days became sennights, and sennights became moons. Eventually the next year of schooling came around and Aedos found herself in a class of entirely new faces, a chance to make new friends. But the damage was done, and she did not find that trust could come to her so easily anymore.

Her studies, having already been prone to bouts of dreaming and inattentiveness, also began to decline. Images and tales of menacing scalekin prowled her mind, and she found it easy to become lost in them when her lessons demanded much less romantic subject matter. She still kept abreast of the required study material in history, geography and martial studies, but only just skated by on the thinnest of ice in mathematics, enchiridion studies, and literature, managing to maintain the bare minimum to pass each subject she did not care for. Students and teachers grew to expect little from the girl, and it was a great surprise to many when several years later she began to devote much of her time to squiring under House Fortemps with some modicum of success.

[bourgeoisfury]

Supreme and Sacred, The First Step

A middle-aged elezen woman was seated at a large, heavy wooden desk. She drummed her languid fingers against the mahogany surface of the table whilst inspecting a number of documents. She held the sheets up at just the right angle for her crystal blue eyes to look down past her nose, through the thin, rectangular lenses of her spectacles, to the pages.

Once Aedos was past the threshold of the open door, the woman spoke in a flat tone, “Aedos de Valleritignon? You’re late, take a seat.” Aedos glanced at the chronometer on the wall. Yep, she was here four minutes early. Her brow knitted in confusion, and she took a breath, steadying herself.

With that, the younger woman strode over and seated herself in the only vacant seat in the room: a short, almost too narrow wooden armchair. As she sat, the cushion seemed to deflate under the faintest pressure, greeting her bottom with flat, prickly wood. The chair was uncomfortably low to the ground, and she found herself folding her legs under the seat and around one of the legs in order to not look ridiculous. Seeking to adjust herself into a state of comfort, Aedos leaned on the armrests, but the loud creak they released informed her that they would be of no help. Her chest rose, and she pursed her lips, jailing an exasperated sigh. She brought a hand up to adjust the glasses on the bridge of her nose, turning her head to look up at the woman opposite her. A quick scan of the desk revealed a short, lengthy, brass placard positioned at its edge, emblazoned with ‘Margarei Feremont’.

Aedos considered the most appropriate form of address, given the situation. She cleared her throat, chiming in her most practiced, polite tone, “Madame Inquisitor Feremont, thank you for your invitation. Please excuse my tardiness.” Not a hint of contempt could be heard in her apology, and the young woman began to smile, impressed with herself. “It’s lovely to--”

The young knight’s pleasantries were interrupted by Margarei’s cold, blue gaze peeling away from the documents she had in-hand and meeting Aedos’s fiery, amber eyes, “Yes, thank you for coming.” She stated with complete apathy, and slid her thin glasses down to the tip of her nose. A stray lock of snow white hair bobbed as her hand brushed by her ear, the rest of her hair held up in a loose, high bun.

The initial salvo of questions from Inquisitor Feremont were menial, and the process was painfully slow. Aedos answered a deluge of mundane questions, questions she was certain the Tribunal already knew her answers to. Where had she been schooled? What was her current occupation? Had she ever been convicted of a crime? Would she consider herself a follower of the Orthodox Halonic Faith? Aedos kept her back straight and her eyes forward, barreling through the questions, voice firm and confident. She only shifted her legs twice when they grew numb from their awkward position tucked around the leg of her chair.

Then, without any prior indication or warning, she was confronted with the far more trying half of the interview.

“Have you any prior experience being the subject of, or subjecting a party to, harmful questioning? Either mental or physical pain will suffice.” Inquisitor Margarei lifted her glasses from her nose, dropping them to her chest. A silver chain attaching the collar of her blouse to the spectacles jingled as the glasses came to rest in front of the woman’s sternum.

Aedos eyed the older woman, seeing no hesitation in Margarei’s clear, icey eyes. And after but a moment’s pause, the knight responded in kind, “No.” Her reply came in a softer voice than she had intended. The “Hmm.” that this answer elicited from the inquisitor caused Aedos to speak before she had time to trim her words, “But I’m not adverse to the eventuality. I’ve some experience with knives - skinning creatures for pelts,” she explained.

Whilst the entirety of the interview so far had seen the older woman touch pen to paper with each answer Aedos had given, the last answer had not received that same response. Margarei brought her arms up, the long, dark blue sleeves of her outfit covering her pale skin. She folded her hands tidily together, leaning her weight on her elbows, voice steady, unyielding.“Have you ever made contact with a dragon?”

This caused a decent pause from Aedos. She looked around the room, eyes flicking over the desk and bookshelves briefly. “I’ve slain several-score scalekin or more.” She lowered her head slightly, looking at Lady Feremont, “But I’ve a mind to only call one of those a true dragon…”

The white-haired elezen seemed satisfied with that, not that her face revealed her thoughts, but seeing as she launched into her next question, “And have you ever made contact with someone who was, at the time, or later found to be, a heretic?”

Aedos held eye contact, one brow creasing, she raised her chin and brought her hands together in her lap. “There was a girl in my year when I attended Perpetual Grace,” she stated, referring to her years at a Halonic girls school. She pursed her lips, letting out a small, unbidden sigh, “Marion was her name. I-- We, fell out of touch after primary school. And later, when I was in my first year of worship at St. Endalim’s, I heard she had been sent to Witchdrop.” Her voice held a measure of confusion, and strained to hide any emotions that she was keeping below the surface.

“And what of your relationship with this girl, when you were attending school together?”

“We had been friends for a couple of summers, but…” Aedos pondered, “I realised she wasn’t truly my friend. And I don’t recall speaking with her from before my ninth nameday.” The tanned Ishgardian unfurrowed her brow, moving to sit further back in her chair.

Aedos nodded, beginning her next anecdote, “There was the night of insurgency as well. When Ishgard was threatened from within, heretics storming the streets and torching houses. I believe that was the first night I struck at someone with vicious intent.” She stated, lips pressing together momentarily after she finished. She held the other woman’s gaze, “She was a heretic, of course.”

“As well, I encountered a group of heretics within The Vault,” the young knight continued. She shouldn’t have been surprised that this produced a reaction from Margarei.

The older woman’s nostrils flared ever so slightly, and her eyes seemed to shimmer with renewed interest, but she didn’t say anything, letting Aedos proceed.

“A terrorist organisation of heretics had somehow smuggled an amphiptere in to the lower levels of The Vault, along with a number of alchemical instruments. The Temple Knights had suspected an altercation and requested House Fortemps for aid, hence my involvement as heightened security.” Aedos spoke steadily, keeping her eyes level, “I killed one of the four heretics as well as their creature. Of course I had aid from several others; they executed another of the traitors, and captured the other two.”

With her narrow spectacles now perched once more on her nose, the inquisitor scrawled several lines of writing on a sheet, “And you didn’t ascertain the purpose of their ‘alchemical instruments’?”

Aedos moistened her lips, “I did my duty as a knight and servant of The Fury. The Inquisitors were to handle the investigation of such tools.” She refused to mention the emotions she had felt during the ordeal, and her departure from the underground labyrinth in a fit of frustration at the politicians who seemed more interested in prattling on about the morals of killing a scalekin.

“Those are the only instances of your interaction with heretical persons?” The unnervingly cold blue eyes peered over.

“Yes.” Aedos insisted firmly. Out of sight, her toes curled at the knowledge that she was lying to the inquisitor. Images of a draconic hyuran woman shifted around the corners of her vision, the sacrilegious echo of that woman’s dragonspeak resonating in her ears.

Margarei once again removed her glasses, letting them hang from her neck, her eyes still traced Aedos’s every movement, but their frigid burrowing seemed to abate. “How often do you attend prayer?”

“Four times with each sun. If I’m in the city, then within the halls of Saint Reymanaud’s. If I’m afield, then the location is not crucial, but communion is still just as, if not more, important.” The young woman smoothed a hand over her hair, checking that the hairclip she was wearing hadn’t budged.

“How do you view Ser Aymeric de Borel?”

Aedos blinked slowly, trying not to smile, “I am not a knight of the Congregation, but I still respect his authority. Personally, I feel he is awarded too much credit, and paid dividends for his mistakes.” She swallowed. “A patricide, not to mention, the assassin of the archbishop - blessed be his memory - should not be worshipped, regardless of his military accolades.”

Inquisitor Feremont paused, watching Aedos, hoping for a further reaction probably. When none came, she continued, “What is your opinion of His Eminence, Archbishop Thordan VII?”

The younger woman instinctively ushered, “Exalted in Her palace, be he,” followed by: “I know not of what his personal values or motives might have been. But he undeniably helped shepherd the Holy See through the climax of the Dragonsong War. I respect his memory, and the pinnacle of sanctity that he stood for.” She clicks her tongue, shifting to one side of her chair, “The allegations of his corruption are not mine to deny, though I do personally believe them baseless. However, I believe the presence of such concerns from the populace do justify the progression of the Holy See to move away from its days as a monarchy. The moment a nation cannot fully trust its leader is doubtless a cry for change.”

“What should happen to the Halonic Church, now that it is without a titular head?”

Aedos entwining her fingers in her lap, watching her digits, feeling the smooth velvet of her gloves slide over each other. “The cardinals and bishops,” she looked back to Margarei, “need to elect a man or woman of the cloth from within their echelons, to rise to the position of archbishop.” She nods, adding, “The Church will be a far stronger force of faith and righteousness with an anointed figurehead, than without one. The position’s role is an important symbol of inspiration and divinity for the people, guiding them toward Halone’s will.”

Margarei exhaled, moving on to her next question, “What are your thoughts on the House of Lords and House of Commons?”

“I believe it is the logical answer to the dissatisfaction of the masses. Or, in any case, there should be a forum for the concerns of both noble and lowborn citizens.” Aedos gives a firm nod, her eyebrows flickering in a resolved scowl. “With wildly varying opinions between the two forces of parliament, it makes it imperative that Ishgardians of the future will have a strong, and capable force to resolve hostile disputes.”

“What faction is this force you speak of?”

“Justice.” She replied, almost instantaneously. Tilting her chin up, the young knight elaborated, “I imagine the Temple Knights will be more available to police the streets, since the Dragonsong War is ended. But they do lack subtlety - a capacity that the Tribunal could provide agents to assist with - given the nature of, say an assassination plot for example. If evidence is not immediately forthcoming to provide solid conviction, an investigative search could be carried out by the Inquisition, whilst protection of the target is likely tasked to the Congregation.” Aedos took a breath, “Another, of many aspects I’m sure, that the Tribunal can outmaneuver the Temple Knights in, is its dedication to faith in The Fury. For She is the true forerunner of our nation, and our people’s saviour, lest they forget. Ishgard and its people must recognise, and put their faith in, both the Congregation and the Tribunal, in order to foster the sacred values we uphold whilst moving forward within a frighteningly new world.”

Inquisitor Margarei dipped her head, leaning back in her chair, the leather creaking. “Should the Inquisition be liable to judgment at the hands of the new parliament?”

The bronzed elezen fluttered her eyelashes closed. This was a question she had thought of the answer to countless times in the past moon. Just two summers prior, the Inquisition had been dictated by the hand of the archbishop himself, but the institution would now have to make room for the Republic of Ishgard to govern its people. Reopening her eyes, her voice rang clear, “It would be suicide for the Tribunal to refuse judgment upon itself.” She blinked, “It would breed fear and suspicion of not only their future rulings, but every agent, and every judgement that they have long since passed.” She motioned a hand up from her lap in gesture, “And placing the Tribunal under the scrutiny of the Houses of Lords and Commons could likely result in the same inevitable dissolution. However, given the opportunity and the necessity, I believe the Inquisition can learn to reach an accord under the ruling of the Republic, granting protection and guidance to the people of the Holy See, whilst the people themselves can flex their grievances and misgivings with its actions or agents.”

Margarei leaned back forward to her desk, wielding her pen in hand, she touched pen to paper and commanded, “Tell me about why you would make an acceptable inquisitor.”

A trickle of sweat ran down Aedos’s neck, as it traveled down her spine she couldn’t help but shudder. The young knight studied her elder, noting the expectant tilt of her eyebrows and the stillness of the elegant pen. “I--” she croaked, shaking her head she began again, “I’m an intelligent, strong, devoted woman.”

Margarei pursed her lips and crooned a questioning “Hmmmmm,” in response to the young woman’s answer, Aedos had to restrain herself from rising to her feet. “You are woefully underqualified, and far too young, to be a successful member of the Tribunal,” said Margarei.

Aedos remained seated, but rose herself up to her full height, flexing her back and neck. She looked to the parchment the inquisitor had been about to write on, noting her pen was no longer on paper, a small dark blot of ink marring the otherwise pristine surface. “Respectfully,” the youthful elezen spat, “I am more than capable of any task that is asked of me, despite my lack of greying hairs and my inability to operate a sixth Umbral Era loom. All of your questions have only touched on the insecurities of Ishgard, and its recent -- wretched -- past.” Margarei just stared at her, not seemingly surprised by the outburst. Aedos breathed, calming her temper somewhat, “Of course these issues are important, particularly for an institution concerning the security of this holy city. But there is no capacity in which I could have shown you that I would be an acceptable inquisitor purely by the answers I might have given to the questions that you have asked.”

In her exasperation, Aedos rose slowly, a wash of relief coming over her as she stretched her legs, her chair letting out an immense groan as she stood. She continued with her berating, waving a hand pointedly “You’d already made up your mind on whether I should be given an opportunity to become an inquisitor before you even began this interview.”

“Yes,” was the response from the solemn, white-haired woman, now looking up at Aedos.

“Why did you give me this interview?’

“The Tribunal is looking for,” the older woman placed her quill down and clasped her hands together, “exceptional, able-bodied individuals. I could find no reason on paper to reject your application, for you have seemingly proven yourself a capable huntress, and your role as an acolyte to the Church suggests your devotion to Halone. However, young men and women are often swayed by the trends of the time, not to mention romantic flights of fancy. Your,” she raised her eyebrows rather severely, “age makes you unreliable.” A soft pause settles over the room, nestled in the halls of the Supreme Sacred Tribunal. “My questions evoked your temperament, with which I can now judge your case.”

Aedos gulped, feeling the contractions of her throat drily tighten. Inquisitor Feremont flexed her fingers around her pen once more, and began inscribing a note. The older elezen continued her presiding, “No inquisitor is the same, and despite their differences, all inquisitors share a single, crucial facet.” She nodded up at Aedos, “Their conviction. This trait is the tool they use to overcome hardship and enact the will of the Tribunal.” She continued writing, “I needed reason to deny your application. You did not give it to me.”

The young woman stood there, stunned. Concerned that if she said something, the evaluation might be altered.

“Close the door,” Margarei insisted.

Aedos looked outside briefly at the empty hall, then shut the door and reseated herself. This time she did not take note of how uncomfortable the bristly wooden chair was, smoothing her palms over her knees in anticipation.

Inquisitor Feremont finished her note, withdrawing a stick of wax from a shelf beneath the table and using an oil lamp to melt the midnight blue wax onto the parchment. She began to explain, “You would do well to take a lesson in humility, Aedos. And so it is that your first trial is presented. Prove your faith, and your dedication to the cause.” She stamped a wooden seal decisively into the wax, leaving the initials “M.F.” branded to the page.

Aedos took the paper when it was passed to her, eyes scanning the words. It charged her, the adjudged, to stand vigil atop The Vault for two suns. The adjudged was to be refused shelter, sustenance or any measure of succor, their equipment and clothes to be removed for the length of the trial, and their only garment a plain, hoodless robe. Any persons aiding the adjudged were to be prosecuted and imprisoned indefinitely.

Whilst she was reading the instructions, Margarei informed Aedos, “The vigil is to last two pendulums of the sun. On the third sunrise, if you are still healthy of mind and body, and should you choose it, you will be given a six-moon probationary placement under one of the Tribunal’s inquisitors as an apprentice. After this period of time your performance will be assessed, and should your superiors be satisfied, you will be given leave to begin enacting the will of Halone and the Supreme Sacred Tribunal of Halonic Inquisitory Doctrine. Alternatively, you may choose to decline this offer,” Margarei added, reasonably. “In that case, I will void this document, and you will forever be barred from returning to these halls. You will be free to live a life of relative ease.” She spreads her palms, “The choice is yours.”

A wide, beaming grin grew across Aedos’s face as Inquisitor Feremont outlined the decision she was now offering the initiate. The knight lifted her glasses off of her face with one hand, pressing at her cheeks with her other, attempting to hide her delight as she felt them flush hot. She exhaled, blinking away the overwhelming emotions. “Yes! I accept! Thank you Madame Inquisitor,” she said with a stiff bow.