Even more troubling were the younger men and women who stood with them. Each one seemed to either stand next to or comforting one of the older women, none younger than twenty years old, most with dark-blue hair.
My children.
Daylen’s heart broke at seeing them. They looked on him with differing expressions: hate, curiosity, awe, fear, resentment, or even longing.
There were some that wore the uniform of the National Guard, a few even the uniform of an Archknight. The rest wore common or respectable dress, every single one with a beaded tassel in their hair and functional sword at their side.
Daylen had let them down in so many ways, but would they want to change the past? Had he not slept with their mothers, they wouldn’t even be alive, and he was confident they had at least appreciated being born. It was a very strange clash of emotions.
It seemed that several of the girls he had raped had the same feelings.
“He was cruel and perverted,” one of the older women said as she bore witness on the stand. “And from it I fell pregnant. But even hating him so much, I could never hate my own child. People from the palace made sure we were taken care of, and we’ve had a good life since. I…I do not think he should be executed for what he has done.”
“I wasn’t ready for what was done to me,” another woman said, “but he was kind in his own way, and from it I was blessed with my daughter, who’s been the greatest joy of my life. So I wouldn’t change the past—and even with all the other terrible things this man has done, I can’t say I want to see him dead. I think he probably deserves it with all the people he’s killed, but not for my part.”
That woman and only three others shared such moderate testimonies. The rest were far more willing to express stronger feelings.
“I hate him,” a more fragile woman said, quivering as she struggled to get through her testimony. “The fact that he’s still alive to torment me and my son is too much. You must kill him and let our suffering end.”
Strangely, it was the women who didn’t have any children by him that seemed to despise him more than the others. To them, Daylen had truly ruined their lives, many not ever finding marriage, and a few still bearing deep psychological pain.
Daylen wept with his head hanging in shame as they spoke.
“State your name for the record,” the Judge Moderator for that fall’s proceedings said.
“Archon Lyrah. Knight, Archonair, and Lifebinder in the Arch Order of Light.”
Daylen’s head shot up.
He had not thought he would ever see Lyrah again.
She didn’t look at him. “I was only fourteen when this man’s servants took me from my home by force. My parent’s lives were continually threatened if I didn’t willingly submit myself to the Emperor. What he did to me over the next month was disgusting…vile…and the abuse has left me emotionally scarred ever since. I’ve never been able to be close to another man because of him. I’ve hated the Conqueror with more passion than I can express, and I even tried to kill this man when I learned who he was. I still hate him,” she said bitterly, and then sighed. “But it’s wrong to not consider what Daylen has done since he received his powers. He singlehandedly uncovered the Dawnist plot, and then defeated them, saving the city and countless lives in the process. He should be remembered for the good he has done as well as the evil. Apart from that, let him live or die. I don’t care. All I want is to never see him again.”
It stung more than he expected to hear Lyrah’s testimony, more so than the other women. But what had he expected—that she would forgive him like Ahrek had? Yes, he had saved her life while they fought together, but Ahrek had explained how she had saved Daylen’s life, too, when he had fallen from the Bloodrunner, and that was more than enough. She owed him nothing.
A deep pain remained in Daylen’s heart as Lyrah stepped off the dais.
The remaining women bore witness, and as painful as that was, the trial still had a long way to go.
When Queen Quallandra came forward to list the crimes that Daylen had committed against the Kingdom of Frey, she didn’t hold back, and accused him of raping her, too.
Now that he hadn’t done—it had been consensual between them, but it was clear she considered it coercion, as she had only slept with him at first for an alliance, which he didn’t give. But still, she had come to enjoy their nights together and be very affectionate to Daylen before his betrayal. Was it through the claim of rape that she had kept her throne?
She hadn’t been the only one to give an unbalanced accounting of Daylen’s crimes; but even then, when the time came for his plea, his answer remained the same.
“Guilty.”
As the falls passed Daylen was flown back to his cell and then out again for each session. The city and indeed the whole world were in a riot of debate. Everyone discussed what they thought of each round, the witnesses they heard, and what verdict they felt should be issued. No one could go anywhere and not hear a heated discussion about these things.
The trial started to take its toll on Daylen. He was so emotionally destroyed that it was hard to even walk. He didn’t know how he could have gotten through it without Ahrek’s support. Just having the Bringer there helped tremendously, but he did more, offering words of comfort and even helping Daylen up and down from his chair and bed—for so great was his pain.
Finally the last witness concluded his testimony, explaining how Daylen had used human shields in the Battle of Highdawn.
The moderating judge, who was Darenlight that fall, asked how Daylen pled.
Daylen felt numb. He had lived a long time but had never endured anything as traumatic and painful as this trial. He could barely speak, but he forced his mouth to open, and the soft strained word came out. “Guilty.”
“Are there any more witnesses who would wish to make a charge against the defendant?”
“I do,” a timid voice called out from the official pews.
He was spindly man of middle age with a balding head of thin blue hair. He wore an expensive suit and cravat with a cutlass at his side and walked with a hesitant step to the stand.
“State your name for the record and issue your charge.”
“Senator Terain Daybright.”
Why was that name so familiar?
The senator looked at Daylen. “I herewith charge this man, Daylen Namaran, formerly known as Dayless the Conqueror, with heroism.”
A murmur reverberated through the numerous crowds from that.
Daylen didn’t expect to hear anything like that.
“Senator Terain,” the moderator said, “heroism is not a crime that one can be charged with.”
“But acts of heroism are officially recognized under the law,” Terain countered. “And they must be proven through witnessed accounts. What better place to see that done than here? Also, if we do not conduct the ratification now, this man might not be alive to receive the honors he rightly deserves.”
“A Senate vote to recognize acts of heroism cannot be done during a criminal trial.”
“And what about this trial has been regular? We’ve basically rewritten the law for our convenience, so what grounds do you have to deny another change? You will not take me from the stand willingly, Darenlight.”
Though the man was slight and soft-spoken, there was a hardness in his eyes that was easy to read. He truly meant what he was saying.
Darenlight was glaring at Terain, but eventually said, “Continue.”
Daylen remembered reading about this law. It had been introduced a few years into the Senate’s rule and was mainly an honorific. Those people recognized as national heroes had their names, portraits, and stories displayed on a featured wall in the Senate. Ahrek’s real name, Rayaten Leusa, and how he had led the revolution, was one of the first to be put there.
“Those close to me will know that a year ago I sent my daughter away to her uncle,” Terain said. “The truth was that she had been kidnapped by the infamous pirate Blackheart, who held
her hostage to control my vote in the Senate.”
Now Daylen knew where he had heard that name before.
The people seated in the pews looked to each other very uncomfortably when hearing that.
“I’ll willingly stand trial for my duplicity and admit that every vote I took part in should be void,” he said, “but I am not here to speak of myself. This man saved my daughter’s life and rid the world of one of the active tyrants that plagued it. He fought his way into Blackheart’s hidden lair to save her as well as other girls. No one asked him to, and he received no formal reward. He did it because he had the power to help, and because it was right. As we know from the press, at the very time he did this he also freed fifty other young women who had been stolen away from their homes to be sold off as sex slaves. Then there are the crimes he stopped in the city of Treremain, the lives he saved—and it seems that he has been busy here in the capital as well, especially in stopping the Dawnists from destroying our entire city! He saved millions of lives, mine included, for I, too, was stuck on the upper islands during the evacuation.”
Terain paused to look across the pews. “These actions are clearly heroic and exceed many other acts that have been previously ratified. I propose we officially recognize them as such. I stand as an official witness and will happily call on as many other witnesses as needed. They stand ready beside this platform.”
Daylen looked to see a group of people standing near the steps to the platform, Sharra and Sain among them.
“That’s not necessary,” Darenlight said. “These actions have been well documented by the press and we all saw the Conqueror stop the island. We shall put it to a Senate vote. All those in favor that the actions heretofore described be officially recognized as heroic?”
A single senator stood and said, “Yea.”
Then another stood, repeating the sentiment, followed by the rest, some looking very reluctant.
“All those opposed?” There were none, and Darenlight added, “The vote is unanimous. The Senate may be seated.” Darenlight looked to Daylen. “Daylen Namaran, you are now an official hero of the nation,” he said, and then turned to the pews. “Before we continue—and seeing that we have allowed Senate voting in this trial—I would like to propose another vote to the Senate,” he said shrewdly. “I suggest we revoke Daylen Namaran’s status as a national hero for crimes committed against the Hamahran people. The specific acts that gave him the status will remain as heroic, but the individual who committed them will not. All those in favor?”
Most stood and said, “Yea.”
“All opposed?”
Remarkably there were several senators who stood and said, “Nay,” Terain’s soft voice being amplified through the phonotrack in unison with the handful of others.
“Those in favor win the vote. Daylen Namaran’s status as hero is hereby revoked.”
“Well, that was short-lived,” Daylen whispered to Ahrek.
“At least your recent actions have been acknowledged.”
“Senator Terain,” the moderator began, “you may retake your seat.”
“As someone who has placed a charge against the defendant,” Terain said, “I would like to take my turn and express the sentence I feel this man deserves and explain why.”
Darenlight waived an impatient hand, indicating acceptance.
“I would first ask,” Terain began, “what evil has this man wrought since he was deposed? We all know: none. And if this is the case, his life from that time has been a blessing to the world. How many of us would be dead right now if he had died when we thought he had? And how many will die if we execute him here, seeing that he is so determined to make right the wrongs he has committed? This man possesses great magical powers, but what many don’t realize is that his powers are those of an Archknight!” Terain proclaimed, the crowd murmuring in response. “He received them through making a solemn vow to fight evil for the rest of his days, a vow that the Light itself ratifies. Apart from this man’s every action since he received his powers, there is no greater witness that he possesses no threat to anyone than the Light. Yes, he has pled guilty to the crimes outlined, but we must take into account his recent actions. Therefore, I say that all charges issued against the defendant should be dropped and the defendant released so that he might continue to fulfill his vow.”
An eruption of protest rippled across all those who heard Terain’s extreme and ridiculous suggestion.
Amazingly, however, there were some cries of agreement.
“Order! We will have order!” Darenlight announced.
Daylen huffed. “Terain might as well demand the Shade serve him morning tea while he’s at it,” he said under his breath.
“But his words have had an effect,” Ahrek whispered back.
Daylen looked to the senators and the other heads of nations. They either looked troubled, reflective, or outraged at Terain. “No. It was nice of him to try and defend me, but I don’t deserve it, nor will it change things.”
“Thank you for your witness, Senator Terain,” Darenlight said with unmasked resentment. Terain retook his seat in the pews. “Is there anyone else who would wish to make a charge against the defendant?” Darenlight added.
They all waited for a while, but no one came forward.
“Does the defendant wish to make any closing remarks?”
At this, Daylen nodded.
His two Archknight guards approached and unlocked him from his chair. Daylen pushed himself up, Ahrek taking him by the side as he had to do several times already, helping Daylen walk. Daylen summoned what strength he could and gently pushed Ahrek away. Ahrek placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded. Daylen walked to the stand.
The total silence in the air felt strange. Every set of eyes was on him.
All Daylen could say was two soft words, words that echoed across the city: “I’m sorry.”
Daylen then left the stand and retook his seat.
It seemed like the people didn’t really know what to make of his words; even Darenlight was looking at him with a conflicted expression. The moderator eventually cleared his throat and spoke once more.
“As Judge Moderator, I officially bring the first international criminal trial to an end. We will reconvene outfall for sentencing.”
Chapter Fifty
I could lie here in this hovel and wait for the inevitable, but that doesn’t seem right. My life has been a plague on this continent, and leaving my body here strikes me as wrong. The world deserves to be rid of Dayless the Conqueror once and for all. Perhaps I should cast myself from the continent… That does sound poetic.
Whichever way my life ends, know that it’s an undeserved mercy. If the Light truly wanted to punish me, it would curse me to live.
This has been the life of Dayless the Conqueror, written by his own hand. I have not written this to make excuses, but to confess my countless crimes.
I was a tyrant, and let the world remember me as such. Farewell.
* * *
Daylen lay on the bed in his cell, feeling more emotionally drained than he could express.
“You endured it well,” Ahrek said, sitting on his chair in the adjoining room. “I can only imagine how hard that must have been for you.”
The two Archknight guards stood in their regular position.
“Though I can’t help but think,” Ahrek said, “that every single charge issued against you could not have been entirely just. After all, people tend to paint a lopsided story when wronged.”
“Of course,” Daylen said, resigned. “There were heaps of charges that were trumped up, not to mention the other ones that were misrepresented. There was a couple that had actually been committed by some of the more unscrupulous Guilds.”
“What?” Ahrek said, sitting up.
“Oh yes—the unjust execution of the Knife Maker’s Guildmaster, Boloten-something. I didn’t have a thing to do with it. That had been a paid assassin by the Sword Guild. They had an agreement with the Knife Guil
d’s second that if they removed the Guildmaster, the second, who would become the new master, would renegotiate the legal sword and knife crafting definitions.”
“I…I had sat in as an arbiter in that negotiation. I had wondered why the Knife Makers had finally reneged on their stance.”
“Well, if you remember, it didn’t last. The Guild deposed the new master and claimed the new definitions were invalid. But in any case, the Guildmaster who issued that charge against me was just using me as a scapegoat. Not all Guildmasters were as respectable as you.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I can’t prove anything. Anyway what’s one more drop in a sea?”
“But it’s not just!”
“No, my sentence will still be the same regardless. I’ll be executed and that is just.”
“Not if you’re remembered for more crimes than you actually committed. And what of those who committed the murder?
“Long since dead most likely, and as to being remembered for crimes I didn’t commit it doesn’t make any real difference. At least what I’ve done recently has been properly recognized. I’ll be remembered for some small good by the end, which is far more than I deserve.”
“Not more,” Ahrek replied, shaking his head. “It’s barely enough, especially if people can’t see your service and sacrifices as grounds to forgive you or at the very least for the good you can still do.”
“I’d never force anyone to forgive me. If my death is the only way they’ll get a measure of peace, then I accept it happily.”
“But we both know that this peace is false.”
“Yeah, but they don’t, and it’s not like we can just tell them that. I’m eighty-two years old, remember? You learn a thing or two about people in that time. When a person’s heart is set on revenge, it’s profoundly difficult to turn them from that path.” Daylen looked in the Bringer’s eyes. “You of all people know that, Ahrek.”
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