Balance (Bardic)

By: Synbios Posted on: May 30, 2011

There was work to be done.

The caravan was scheduled to leave the Mhaldorian dock within five days,
shipping its "cargo" of slaves to one of its outposts in Meropis, yet his
current stocks were at less than half of the outpost's quota. Slavemaster
Godfrey was already worried. Failure to deliver would mean that the Tyrannus
would not only sever its lucrative contract with him, but he will also likely
make a bloody 'example' of him for Mhaldor's future business partners. With the
deadline looming over his operations, the slavemaster began negotiating with his
mercenary associates in order to launch slaving raids at nearby villages,
confident that by the time those Shallamese dogs came for his head, he would
already be halfway across the ocean.

Within the span of three days, his connections proved to be a lot more reliable
than he had expected, as their recent arrival yielded several hundred
able-bodied of both human, ogre and orcish stock, meeting his target quota.
Grinning widely, he quickly set to the task of loading them into his ship's
prison-holds. Satisfied with the results, he and his crew spent the fourth day
celebrating their success with food, wine, and entertainment provided by their
slaves.

He woke up to a knocking at his office's door, before one of his crew entered.

"Hullo boss. There's a lady who'd like to speak with ya."

"Oh?" Godfrey asked, a grin slowly creeping into his face. "What does she want?"

"I dunno. She said it was a 'private matter'. Heh heh."

"Alright, alright, send her in. And close the door on the way out."

The crewman winked at him and nodded at the cloaked figure behind him, before
departing to continue his midnight celebrations.

"So, lass, how can I help you?"

The woman hesitated for a moment, before she lowered her cloak's hood, revealing
a beautiful face with long, midnight-black hair.

"I heard that I can bargain for...indentured servants, yes?"

"Oh? What makes you think that?"

"A gentleman named Markis directed me to you, saying something about 'Fine young
men and women who can cater to your every whim'."

Markis. One of his agents.

"Ah, good old Markis. So, what have you in mind?" he said, dropping his voice to
a conspiratorial whisper.

"Ah...I think I will have all of those slaves that you acquired recently," she
said, shifting uncomfortably in her cloak.

Godfrey shook his head. "Oh, those? Unfortunately, they're already reserved by
Mhaldor. I'm sure we can schedule another-"

"I'm sorry. It seems you misunderstand, sir," she interrupted.

"Eh?"

"That was not a question. That was an order, by the power invested upon me as
Lady Miramar's Hand." Throwing back her cloak, the woman revealed two
distinctive emblems on her suit of leather armour. One was the coat-of-arms of
the Sentaari.

The other one was the Scales of Justice.

"Wha...I don't think so, Shallamite, invading my ship all by your lonesome." He
grinned, clapping his hands to summon his bodyguards. Immediately, hidden doors
opened at the walls and ceiling, but no assassin leapt out to slay the woman.
His expression fell, as the woman flashed an eerie smile.

"Oh my. It seems that you were working under the assumption that the forces of
Good are intellectually challenged." She raised her foot and stomped hard on the
floor, shaking the room slightly. Godfrey winced, but nothing happened.

To his horror though, the jolt caused the dead bodies of his men to fall forward
from their hidden rooms. From the ceiling, corpses dropped from the hidden
panels, strung up by vine nooses.

"Do not think that we have not prepared for this. You really shouldn't leave
important documents, like ship layouts, to easily-interrogated men like Markis,
you know."

The woman raised a hand, and the air rippled around her, as formerly-hidden
Serpents appeared at her side, handing her a scroll before departing with his
comrades. Unrolling the scroll, she began to read aloud.

"You have been charged with kidnapping, slavery, and extortion. You have
deprived innocents of their freedom, and you have subjected them to the
indignity of being treated as nothing more than commodities to feed your
blood-stained purse. We of Lady Miramar's Order intend to correct that
injustice, by restitution..." She flicked her wrist, and the scroll rolled
itself up just in time for her to see Godfrey lunge at her with a pair of ornate
rapiers. Smoothly dropping into the Cat stance, she twisted to the side and
parried the slavemaster's attack, shoving him to one side, "...or by the blood
of the guilty."

"Pah! You make fancy talk about justice and innocence, when reality is the
strength of my swords and the weight of my coins." His fist crackled with black
energies, and he advanced upon her, ready to split her torso open.

Quietly turning upon the advancing man, the woman merely replied, "And you make
fancy talk of your misguided priorities," she began to smile as her eyes flashed
white with the power of kai, "...when you forget the power of a monk with
righteousness on her side."

Eyes wide open at his fatal mistake, Godfrey made for the door, only to scream
loudly as bolts of devouring kai energy shot out of the woman's eyes, consuming
his flailing body until he fell to the ground, burnt beyond recognition.

"Maya have mercy on your wretched soul." The woman took one of the coins on
Godfrey's table, and clenched her fist around it. Under the pressure, a small
golden grain cracked away from the coin, and she placed it in her breast-pocket,
before leaving to join her comrades. By now, they will have liberated the slaves
by the time she rendezvoused with them.

---

A giant pair of scales stood on the center of the inner sanctum, glinting with
an otherworldly light.

The raised pan contained a small pile of golden dust. On the other pan stood a
mountain, heavy with the weight of oppression, suffering, and injustice. She
reached for her pocket and took out the golden grain, dropping it on the raised
pan before kneeling down with a prayer to Lady Miramar. Standing up, she turned
on her heel and left the Temple of Justice.

There was work to be done. The scales have yet to be balanced.