A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover

Eighteenth Day of the Fifth Month 294 AC

"Ah, what a lonely room this would be if I were not to associate with people just because they plotted to murder me once or twice..." The words slip past your lips almost unbidden at the sheer absurdity of the scene. Glyra would be proud.

For a long moment the dead silence lasts as though the Curia members cannot believe what you said. Then Garin of all people, who had kept himself mostly to the shadows and spoken but three times in all the confirmations, twice with Valens so the man would not slip by without a word, and once when he had quietly implied that it might be best not to question the ordering of the planes and the mechanisms of Baator's soul harvesting just yet, laughs. You are not entirely certain many of the Curia Princeps even realized the dark-cloaked Grand Inquisitor could even laugh, much less that such an honest mirthful laugh could pass his lips unbidden. Then Vee giggles in her own seat, untroubled by any awkwardness, and that seems to serve as permission for the rest of the chamber to find it funny, though some people rather overdo it.

It was not that good a jape.

"Continue, Justice Morywn," you prompt, and the dark-haired man has the grace to look a touch shamefaced, though any blush is lost in a lifetime spent in the sun.

Thus he does, and to his credit when he gets into the joints and nails of his craft, it is clear he knows it as few others could. He knows people and what makes them act, as well as how they can be swayed to act reasonably, a task harder for pirates than so-called 'honest men'. Stannis of all folks comes away from questioning him satisfied, a fact which you suspect he will chew on a while yet.

In a way, you suppose you should thank the moment of disruption, jest and all, for it allows the far less personable Vynar Jokarys to slide by with only the most rehearsed of lines and what looks to be a blessing of a silver tongue he must have gotten from one of your Companions by the power of it. Tyene seeing to it that the closest thing to a Dornishman on the High Court does not have too much trouble, you suspect, and you are glad for it. Talk of Dornish favoritism would be rather hard to ward off, given that they are indeed favored, and it would be rather impolitic to remind the assembled Curia that Doran Martell's seat would be one of those not emptied if you were to banish those who plotted your death.

The third proposed member of the High Court, Javad Rahbar, looks to be on his way to an equally smooth interview... until the new Governor of Skagos approaches him on the matter of slavery, particularly the fact that his own people yet practice it and that he must have resolved cases relating to 'that most pernicious institution' in the favor of the slaver.

"Do you believe that slavery is wrong, Justice Rahbar?" Slippery Sal asks sharply. "Is it a moral evil that should be purged from all the realms of this world and beyond, or is it just that we benighted mortals could not get slavery to work as it should by the measure of the wise shaitan?"

"You have a remarkable skill for putting words in the mouths of others, Your Excellency," the shaitan lawmaker replies, eyes of molten gold fixed upon the face of his questioner, revealing nothing in their slow swirling patterns. "I shall not be answering that question because it is immaterial to the position I have been offered. A judge is not one who makes decisions based on his own inner sense of right and wrong, but rather one who interprets the law and the will of the lawmaker. Anything else would be me grasping for the blood-steel crown the Imperator wears and I am not so prideful as to do that."

"Then perhaps Wisdom Lya shall craft a spell to give the very law a mind and a will of its own, sparing you from the labors of a soothsayer," Sal shoots back, then takes his seat after one last venomous glare. "I have no further questions."

Well, that conflict is not going away anytime soon, though you are not certain it matters that much. Sal is rather isolated within the bounds of the Curia Princeps, and even among the Vox opinions like his are not likely to be too common. The shaitan judge takes his high seat and then the fourth and last of those selected for the post steps forth.

A golden light, somehow not warm but rather cold, fills the chamber as though the fire of some endlessly distant celestial forge, lost in the morning of the world, were reflected in a mirror of steel. Upon the face of Chesed, who walks in the light, whose name means Kindness, no expression could be read. Many of those present draw back into their seats, some curse in awe and wonder, and some even begin to murmur a small prayer. Unlike Yrael, the trumpeter of the Lost Lord sees no reason to hide his light nor make himself more approachable to mortal men, and few there are even in this hall to have met a bright spirit of the higher orders with his face unveiled.


"Ask your questions, mortals, for I have little time and there is much that needs to be set in order in this as in all realms," the archon projects with the sharpness of a scalpel upon the minds of all in the chamber.

At first no one rises to speak and you fear that you might have to motion to one of your Companions to act lest the whole procedure grind to a halt. Then Zherys steps up to the task with the briefest glance in your direction that seems to ask, 'You thought they could handle this?'

"Justice Chesed, how would you describe your approach to the law, and what is your hope to see done in your tenure on the High Court?" the Volantene sorcerer begins. Thankfully, as he speaks and he is given answer, a man like other men in the lights of the chamber and the eyes of his fellow Princeps, some of the awe fades from the eyes of those attending and you get a few more questions from other quarters before the interview is done and much praise is given to the choice of the archon for the position.

Thus, the High Court is filled, the business of the day is done, officially at least. It might be worth your while to speak to some of those who are positioning themselves to lead in the debates, and other matters in the fullness of time, you do not doubt.

What do you do next?

[] A private meeting with one or more of the notables of the Curia
-[] Write in with whom

[] Continue on to the next day and the Trial of Tywin Lannister
-[] Write in any details you wish to add

[] Write in

OOC: Turns out when you take the kindness out of an angel you are often left with just the awe. Thankfully when the hind-brain finally shuts up enough to let the rest of the mind have its say he still registers as angel therefore good vibes and all.