Chapter 7: Illusions for Justice

It wasn’t long watching the man shave before Sammy found it distasteful, but she kept it up in case he broke his silence during the act, while also checking on other mirrors nearby.

Soon it was clear they were in a manor owned by someone of wealth and status, as she found plenty of mirrors and servants roaming about an estate even more lavish than Estara’s locale. Every servant was in fine livery with coats half burgundy and half silver, with a gold, embroidered symbol on it of four entwined leaves.

“Sys, I don’t have a perfect memory as far as I know… is there some way to, I dunno, record stuff for later?”

You may construct a magic record-keeping mirror for 1 FE. It will copy one active mirror view for later review, switchable as needed. Recording time is infinite.

“Ugh, fine, let’s do that, though honestly, that should be a freebie. Forward the suggestion to your marketing people.”

Sammy felt a little ‘tug’ somehow that she reached out to, at which point energy left her and a circular mirror crystalized into existence in midair, framed in gleaming sky-blue crystal like a giant snowflake. She activated it immediately and it began showing the shaving man frame-by-frame.

She switched the perspective of the recorder around the estate to get anything that looked interesting, particularly to catch the livery details again. She also just found an indirect angle of view through a mirror that showed a stately-looking older gentleman at a desk, apparently writing by candlelight, but she couldn’t make out many details.

Eventually, the shaving man simply finished and put down the mirror, which left the perspective staring at the ceiling.

I could spook him somehow, but I’m not sure if I can succeed in any way that makes him… come clean? That’s what we need him to do if he can do it without it being fatal. Far more helpful if whatever we do is a credible threat…

Ultimately, she had some inkling of what she could do, but needed to confer with Dax again. She reached out and found her immediately, now with a slightly bigger shard propped up on a pillow next to her, where she was sleeping soundly in minimal candlelight. She had only shed her coat and hat to rest, still wearing a belted tunic.

“Dax. Wake up. Dax, wake up!”

The red-haired woman started awake, immediately pulling a dagger out from her belt and looking around bleary-eyed. “Wha- who’s there?! Oh…”

She sat up and collected herself as Sammy began delivering the news of what she’d found, which had the knight begin waking up much quicker as her interest was excited. Once Sammy showed Dax the recordings of the estate and the denizens, the latter let out a little cry of victory.

“That’s the House of Four Leaves! Lord Algaren’s estate! Ha, I’ve got you now, you little shit…” Dax disappeared from view as Sammy heard the sounds of gear being donned.

“Dax, stop! We need to discuss this rather than you charging in there. I’m no expert on how easy it would be for you, but what are you planning on doing when you have him? Slap him around?”

The portal’s perspective shifted as Dax picked it up and turned it around to her, now with her hat on, frowning. “I planned on figuring that out after I risked my life to apprehend him.”

“And is that a good plan?”

“Well… alright, what do you suggest?”

“First of all, I can help with distractions if your- I’m hoping you have some kind of stealth capabilities?”

Dax shrugged. “Better than average. Level 1 Rogue. Forgot how I picked that up, actually- wait, ah, I do remember. Damn it. Guess I need to up my alcohol intake.”

“Okay, that’s good. What about taking someone without killing them?”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’ve done my share of peacekeeping and have the techniques to show for it.”

“You’ve been around, then, hmm?”

“In more ways than one. I’m a Jackass of Some Trades.”

Sammy snickered. “I have another question. Say he reverses his story. What happens to him?”

“I can’t say for sure. Probably some kind of re-education, but coming forward begs for some form of leniency. Especially if he frames it well that he was pressured by the merchant. Which is probably true, anyway.”

“So he is unlikely to get assassinated for betraying the merchant?”

“Considering that the merchant — if found guilty of framing an innocent man — would face the worst punishments imaginable, and everyone will want to forget he ever existed, probably not. This is not something that is supposed to happen, Samantha.

“Everything that happened, they see it like clockwork, they think it’s 100% going their way, like a gear turns, like it turned a hundred times before. But if this guy by some miracle confesses to a magistrate, the clockwork is 100% going in the other direction. The truth will prevail.”

“Would the merchant be executed?”

“No. He’ll be made into an empty husk of a person that follows the rules diligently. But his old life will be gone.”

Samantha swallowed hard. “I guess that’s eye-for-an-eye.”

Dax nodded. There was certainly no sympathy in her eyes.

With a dry throat, Sammy said, “This will work well for what I have in mind. That fear can be used against this man. If he thinks the Dominion is threatening him, he’ll do whatever he thinks they’re telling him to do.”

“Sure… how do we do that?”

Can I really do this? But if I don’t, then what?

“Make sure you have a rope to tie a man to a tree somewhere isolated. And something that will blindfold someone utterly. We still need to get him out of there. I’ll explain on the way.”

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The stealth mission into the manor outside the city proceeded quite well — though Sammy envisioned some sort of ‘stealth game’ in her head, maneuvering around guard patrols like a ninja, there were no guards. There was a wall, but that was not much of an issue for Dax.

The truth was that it was no important stronghold nor in a borderland, and thieves usually just shied away from their crafts in Dominion territory out of fear of discovery and consequence. In the city of Restwater, organized crime had been weeded out again and again, according to Dax. Though it inevitably wormed its way back in, it was never a haven for criminals.

Sammy’s intel directed Dax around the back, where a door was extremely frequented leading to the kitchens, a route taken to carry various refuse out and away. The door was not even locked, though it squeaked with a wince-inducing racket when opened.

The kitchens would ordinarily be a dangerous place to pass through at any time, but the risk became a calculated one with Sammy’s additional ‘eyes’ via the manor’s numerous mirrors, many antiques that honestly were neglected and could’ve used a polishing. But they functioned.

Almost everyone was asleep, and Sammy more or less tracked any ‘bogeys’ as she called them (which confused Dax, but she’d have to get used to it). Creaking wood was definitely a thing, but it was not something anyone who heard would investigate. There were just too many people and servants who it could be. As such, at a certain point, Dax just adopted a casual, unhurried walk rather than sneaking.

They were able to determine the room their target was in due to identifying nearby mirrors, and how close they were to the still-laying hand mirror he had used. He was in bed, but moving around and muttering to himself so much that Sammy knew he was awake.

Dax did a casual little knock on the door, which Sammy could see from a mirror in the hallway.

“Wha- who is it?”

No answer. A sigh, sounds of moving out of bed.

The door swung open, the man grunting, “Now then, what…?” His head came around the door to look down the hallway.

Crack!

Dax haymaker'd him right in the face with a sucker punch, which sent him careening from a forceful impact and knocked him out cold with precision technique and ‘Surprise Motherfucker’ level opportunity, against someone far from being a fighter. A couple of teeth flew out.

Somehow, Dax caught his arm and kept him from making too much racket or causing himself additional injury in a tumble. Momentarily, she quietly closed the door and then hefted him up on a shoulder with strength somewhat in contrast to her size, though she was not a slip of a girl by any stretch.

Holy crap! She’s amazing!

Grinning like a little gremlin who’d stolen from a cookie jar, Dax made her way out-

A door burst open immediately ahead, causing Dax to angle over to the wall and otherwise freeze. Sammy’s viewpoint caught it all on the opposite wall.

A sleepy young girl in pajamas, a giant doll in her hand, shuffled out, yawning and pouting grumpily. She continued her shuffle past, and Sammy — likely Dax too — held their breath…

The girl stopped and looked Dax dead in the eyes.

There was a brief fraction of a moment where literally anything could’ve happened — maybe the girl would scream, maybe she’d yell for her mommy, or run, or all of those combined. But in that precise moment, Dax had the most roguish grin a face could wear as she brought a finger to her lips in a conspiratorial, squinty-eyed, comical ‘shh.’

The little girl blinked, but almost immediately returned the gesture with a ‘shh’ of her own. Then she whispered, “I’m sneaking for a snack.”

Dax whispered back, “I won’t tell if you won’t, darlin’. Sneak pals?”

The girl grinned and nodded. “Sneak pals.”

She started down the steps in exaggerated 'sneaky steps', presumably to the kitchens, and reluctantly Dax followed, far less sneakily so with her burden.

“What’s your name?” The girl asked.

“Sandy. I’m from the desert.”

“Really? Wow. Why are you carrying Mr. Cutter?”

“He drank too much. As usual. Needs some water. From the well. Straight from it, that’s what’s best.”

“Oh. He’s grumpy. Daddy said he won’t stay but for a week or two.”

“That’s right,” Dax said as though she were an authority on the matter as well.

In the kitchen, Dax made her way to the exit. “You go ahead and get your snack, darlin’, I won’t tell on you. And don’t tell anyone about ole Drunky here, he’s sensitive about it. Deal?”

“Deal!”

Outside, Dax made her way as swiftly as she could toward a side gate in the walls, finally pulling out the shard to look through the portal at Sammy. “Did that just happen, goddess?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“Assuming I get through this gate, we’re home free. Now comes the hard part.”

“Don’t remind me…”

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Sometime later, a man bound to a tree and triple blindfolded had water splashed in his face, by which he finally started awake in a daze with a splitting headache.

“Hi there, you poor son of a bitch,” came a woman’s voice. “You thought you’d frame my brother, eh? You were too stupid to understand what sort of connections you were messing with. But you’re going to. Someone wants to have a little chat with you.”

“What? I-I told the truth! He’s a thief!”

“Tell it to the one that will judge you.” The sound of boots crunching off on twigs, leaving.

“Wh- Hello?! Where are you going? Don’t leave me here!”

Silence. Silence that stretched with only the wind to break it. He struggled, but to no avail. Then footsteps… lighter, slow, just barely registering. Approaching.

“Wh-who’s there? I-I’ll never-”

The howl of a wolf in the distance suddenly cut him off. It was the most eerie sound he’d ever heard. It was like the ghost of a wolf — a banshee. It froze the words in his throat.

The footsteps came close, then stopped near, the howl stopping at exactly that moment. The stillness was somehow deafening. Heavy. Noiseless sound vibrated — thrummed — from the figure, like the world was sucking in toward it.

A voice like an ancient with all his power and vitality preserved, like a crisp, clear waterfall resounded, “I think you know who the one before you represents, liar. False witness.” The words were a judgment from on high, a pronouncement of doom, echoing through his bones. “I think you are wise to the truth.”

The echo of those last words broke him inside — he pissed himself and he sobbed, for he did know. He knew there was no escape from the truth, then.

Little did he know it was the same woman from before standing near, only a little shard of a mirror was held up to her mouth, and from it was that orchestra of judgment on his soul issuing forth, just as damning however illusory and equally lying that it was.

The young woman and goddess behind it had pity for what she saw, but she also did not relent, for it was justice to her all the same.

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