The Justiciar's End

[Esterlen 4499]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPMqmoUwzCc&feature=player_detailpage#t=70

 

19th of the Sun’s Smile, 1424 - 4th of the Deep Cold, 1460
 

Ser Lothar was a man fueled by cynicism. The world had not been kind to the knight. Born a bastard Jrent to an emperor it seemed the whole world hated and the daughter of a dispossessed nobleman, from his very birth he had been sequestered away in monasteries, and when he came of age he hastily earned a knighthood from Otto of Renatus, boarded a ship and fled the realm of man, undertaking a wild quest of which few knew the details.

 

No god had helped him, no king had helped him, so the knight had resolved to help himself. He had no illusions, he saw that the world was not just or true, but he knew he could try to deliver what stark justice where he could. There was no room for arbitrariness or weakness, there was only right and wrong. Those who did good deeds needed to be rewarded, and likewise those who undertook ill works needed to be punished. He had fought a dragon in Khazav alongside Joren of Greywyn and his contemporary Siguine, but no challenge he had faced in the lands of the Autumn Sea could compare to his true purpose.

A man had to have a code, and so when Olivier de Savoie ensured his appointment to the position of Justiciar under the new empire of the sparrows, Lothar jumped at the chance to preside over trials and give the people of Oren what they might not have wanted but needed - not food, nor shelter, but justice. In a way, he had done that. He turned against his blood, John of Darfey, in favour of his liege where lesser men would have proclaimed ‘neutrality’ or joined their relatives without a second thought. His blood or his lord - that was a difficult decision for him to undertake. John of Darfey’s sins were many, that was without a doubt, but nevertheless they had shared a family name.

The scorching sun of the Fringe shone down upon Lothar as he and his escort lingered on the outskirts of Alras. He was clad in his boiled leather jerkin, a departure from the usual suit of plate-mail he wore while presiding as justice. There would be no need for armor here, for this was a mission of peace. The knight detested those of the ‘Krughanistan Bloc’ as much as any good Imperial, and he detested diplomacy likewise. To him they were a rabble of lack-witted abhumans who ought to be taught a lesson in government, but the justiciar had been sent to parlay with the Alrasians and would undertake this task with what vigor he could muster. They had sent a message to the merchants in advance, and their party awaited on the other side of the river, ready to escort him into the city.

At last, the Alrasian party gave the signal for him to approach and Lothar proceeded alone across the bridge to treat with them, his modest cohort remaining behind. With pensive strides he reached the other side of the crossing. A human man took a few steps forward to greet him.

“Justiciar Lothar, sir. Remember me? I was with you in Mt. Augustus. One of the Goldcrow’s men, do you recall?”

The knight furrowed his brow, his eyes narrowing as he attempted to recall the Siege of Mt. Augustus. His final foray that day had resulted in him being peppered with arrows from all sides, just barely surviving, but nevertheless the Goldcrow had succeeded in defending the mountain in the face of the oncoming Lucienist hordes. He gave a slow nod of recognition, finally recognizing a man who had in recent times doffed his red bandana.

“Aye...of course. What are you doing here of all places?”

“Working for the Krughani, sir,” the soldier said. Lothar had scoffed at that. “I know sir, it’s not the Jolly Ruskans, by no means, but a man’s got to earn his salt though, eh?”

“True enough,” retorted the knight, his lips pursed thinly. He glanced at the armed men who made up the Alrasian delegation, noting a peculiar lack of robed diplomats or perfumed seneschals. “What’s all this then, soldier? Not much of a welcome party.”

The man looked around somewhat nervously. “You know the Alrasians, sir. It’s just their way. Funny people.”

“Aye, they are. Onwards, friend.”

The justiciar extended his hand to the soldier, who shot back the gesture, firmly grasping his palm. After a few brief moments Lothar tried to pull away, but the soldier held fast onto his wrist. The knight looked him in the eye, at last understanding the situation as the mercenary ripped his dirk out of its sheath and buried it deep into his stomach, impaling him on the blade.

Lothar gave a heavy grunt as the soldier knocked the wind out of him, doubling over on his arm. He went light-headed, moving to fall to the ground, however he was supported by the man as he continued to force the knife into him almost apologetically. When the assailant at last removed it, red ichor poured out of his wound staining the dust and dirt. The knight fell to his knees in silence, just barely remaining upright. Clutching the hole in his belly, he looked upwards at his would-be killer.

The mercenary took a step back, discarding the dirk as one of his companions offered him a heavy axe, as thick and wicked as a butcher's cleaver. Taking it from him hastily he brandished the weapon, holding it aloft in the air. Lothar had conducted this kind of procedure before countless times, never once suspecting he would meet his own end by it.

In defiance, the bastard knight held his neck high as the soldier swung at his prostrated form, taking his head clean off with a single blow.

 

[Will (TauFirewarrior) 2466]

William shakes his head from the fifth sky

 

"It is a shame he followed me so soon..."

[Knox213 10]

High Auditor Dedrick Varodyr proceeds to investigate the Justicars death, as such a crime should not go unpunished.

[Peter Chivay 2494]

 

The Emperor hears news of his felled Justicar, a look of sadness dawning upon his face.

 

"The Justicar served me well, see that his family is well taken care of at my own expense. I will not have a good man's family suffer after his death."
 

The Emperor makes a silent waving motion with his hand, everyone within court including the Caerngard take a knee while the Emperor clasps his hands in prayer.

 

"Good creator, if the Justicar's death is your will- so be it. Your judgement is just and mighty and we will continue to serve you in light and dark. Amen."

 

The court echos 'Amen'.

 

Ave Humanity, ave victoria.

 

For the Imperium.

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.