Despite Rabecca's pain and exhaustion, nervous giddiness flooded her when she stepped out of the Adventurer's Guild. Little quips of giggles escaped. While her career as an adventurer ended, Jorvan would write the guild's Capital Chapter and demand her dog-tag, she survived the worst and avenged herself. At the least, she escaped being Jorvan's fisticuffs training prop.

"Where do you think you're going?" Elin's voice cut her like a falling sword. "Not a chance. You're not sleeping in the main house."

Rabecca's euphoria evaporated like ice in the sun. Of course, Lady Elin wouldn't share Lord Walter, and, in her condition, Rabecca felt no urge to try. Her face felt like a pumpkin and colored like a tomato, the afterskin of her fingers, hands, and arms felt like torn paper, and skin on her back and joints scraped off from the scuffle. A tinge of self-hatred boiled in her stomach, because she absentmindedly followed them to their front door, a lost dog, and damaged the meager goodwill she held.

She clenched her robe shut, Rabecca bowed, "Forgive me. I wasn't thinking."

A bondservant, a nun, lived on their property. They exchanged Rabecca for the child that lived there. Then, Lord Walter, Lady Elin, and the sleepy little girl returned to the main house, and Rabecca stood, in tattered clothes and half-naked, in front of a stranger.

The nun said. "My name is Sister Lora. I already know everything. Come with me."

The attached clinic looked organized and smelled overwhelmingly sterile. After Rabecca removed her clothes, the nun rubbed gauze laden with chemicals over her wounds. Since she felt like little more than tenderized meat, Rabecca felt no motivation to flinch.

"I have nothing to wear."

"Lady Elin collected your clothes. Please put them on after I'm done. They mauled you, but it looks like you fought back. Good for you."

"Yes," Rabecca glanced at the forms Sister Lora wrote on, "What are you doing?"

"Lord Walter asked me to record your injuries, evidence for the court."

Rabecca hunched. "So, it's not going away."

"No, child. I sympathize with you, I do, but I'm in no position to offer you kindness." Sister Lora stacked and reorganized her supplies, "I'm might be your healer, but I'm also your jailer. You're not going to flee, and embarrass everyone who helped you, are you?"

Rabecca shook her head without looking up.

"Good. There are ground rules. You're not allowed to leave this house, and it goes without saying you can't leave the property. Do not speak to anyone. You'll do the chores while you're here, I'm not a charity, I'm not feeding you for free. Do not cast magic. Don't argue with me, or I'll toss you out. If you channel your mana, at all, even by accident, I'll slap the 'Mage's Muzzle' on you, and you'll wear it until it's time for you to leave. Do you understand?"

Rabecca nodded. Sister Lora's conditions, when weighed against Jorvan's custody, seemed more than fair. "How long will I be here?"

"The princess is reviewing your case tomorrow."

"So soon? I don't have time to find allies."

"It's out of your hands. Princess Roselynde wants to move quickly and put the controversy to rest since a hero and an ascended are involved."

"I'm not even permitted to speak on my own behalf?"

Rabecca turned the Mage's Muzzle over and over. She never wanted to wear the vile thing again, but she couldn't escape it. At the very least, the constable who stopped her in the Manticore Keep courtyard let her secure it herself.

The constable's words were softer than last night, but he still rejected leniency. "No, you're a mage. Someone will speak for you, but you're not allowed to stand before Princess Roselynde and Prince Peterby capable of incantation. I asked if Lord Walter wished to guarantee the court's safety, but he refused. Do you have a preferred method?"

Why would Lord Walter try to silence me now? Why pull me out of the guild, only to set me up to fail?

"Method?" Rabecca tilted her head.

"Of execution."

Blood drained from Rabecca's face, and she felt a cold sweat break out on her brow. The reality of the situation hit home. She might not live through today.

He continued when she stared for a moment too long, "After you're gagged, you won't be allowed to speak. State your opinion now. There are three methods considered merciful: the gallows, the guillotine, and bleeding. The others, well, they're enforced to appease public outrage. Avoid them if you can."

"I thought, at most, I'd get a punitive slavery contract, because, you know, I'm a useful mage, or because I'm a woman..."

"It's probable, but your punishment, like your guilt or innocence, is the sole discretion of the court. Most women select bleeding out, it's less painful than the gallows and doesn't dismember the body. Should I relay that as your opinion?"

She nodded and reluctantly strapped the muzzle to her face. When the constable tightened and secured it, Rabecca regretted her pitiful last words. There was no chance to change them now. His firm grip tightened on her upper arm, and the constable directed her to stand in the center of the empty courtroom. All she could do was wait for the officials to arrive.

Men and women, a score, filled the room with lazy leisureliness, chit-chatting about the economy, or celebrations. The men wore fine leather, and the women feathers, these were the lower-ranked and unseated nobility of Letun. Most arrived for entertainment. Each held land, or an influential business in the town, or they commanded monopolies. All of them enjoyed the sight of her, with lustful judgment behind their eyes. She expected fewer. Rabecca, for once, felt glad she buckled all the straps on her bustier.

Lord Walter walked up behind her, "Hey, relax." Is he my representative? Then there's hope after all! Would anyone dare argue against him?

Jorvan entered, as her accuser. He smelled hungover.

The protocol dictated the room kneel when Princess Roselynde and Prince Peterby enter and only rise after they are seated. She spread out a fan and covered her face, and then she said, "Let's begin."

Jorvan shouted, spit flying from his mouth, "This harlot killed Henry! A golden-tagged adventurer and my friend!" His grievances continued, with every other word insulting her bedroom practices, and he lost his breath. "The court should enforce a punitive contract and sell her to me!"

"An interesting point of view." Princess Roselynde declared with a dry tone, "Unmistakably, the Master-in-Chief overlooked vital circumstances of this matter, in his rather vehement approach. He demands a princess, a woman, sell him another woman, possibly assaulted by his so-called friends. She's pretty, perhaps you're thinking less of your grief and more on your future joy, hmm?"

Snickers filled the room.

"That's not the case at all. I'm the most damaged by this." Jorvan beat his chest. "I transferred her charter-signature here to the Adventurer's Guild, in good faith, as an outsider to Letun. While the guild works under a self-policing policy, adventurers killing adventurers ruins trust and must be made an example of. Otherwise, no one will clear the dungeons. Everyone will attest to her greed for the coin. She attempted to rob those men, and it turned bad. Make her a slave for unjustly killing Henry, let the city sell her to me, and I will ensure confidence is restored."

But what about the truth, you pig-headed--

"A strong point," Princess Roselynde said, "Lord Walter? A rebuttal?"

Damn it! Why is it only about gains and losses with you people?

"Of course. I investigated the dungeon. It's true, I can't deny it. This woman cornered four men and used 'Ice III' to end their lives--"

--excited murmurs echoed through the room--

--Walter what the fuck are you doing--

"--yet, I can see no evidence of wrongdoing. She was justified."

Jorvan shouted above the sea of increasing whispers, "What the hell do you mean 'justified?' You said it yourself, this ice witch killed four men in cold blood!"

Lord Walter shrugged, "Cold blood? No. She had no choice. The men lured her there, and they intended something horrible. I checked, and it turns out their party itinerary went unregistered, or, perhaps, misfiled. No one knew they were there. Rumor has it: this was Henry's favorite dungeon, but I learned the dungeon lacked a heart. Monsters don't spawn. It's evident: Henry, and his cohorts, intended to ambush her after their deception."

Lord Walter picked up Sister Lora's report and started reading. "Rabecca suffered multiple injuries. Welts marred her face, made by a light club or stick, badly enough to swell her cheeks, bloody her nose, and blacken both her eyes. Hand-shaped bruises formed on her ankles and wrists, still visible despite frostbite. Some of her hair was torn out by the roots. Scrapes stretched across the entirety of her back as if held down by multiple assailants. Other, more suspicious, injuries, covered her breasts and inner thighs, shaped like digging fingernails or scratching claws. Furthermore..." The more Lord Walter read the harder Princess Roselynde stared at Jorvan.

Jorvan bellowed with a purple face. "None of this proves anything! If they were fighting, of course, she'd suffer injuries!"

Lord Walter tilted his head. "Injuries not from an iron weapon? They all carried swords, how odd they didn't use them. Very well, let's discuss your friend's injuries instead--"

--am I the one on trial, here, or Jorvan--

"--The only injuries they suffered, before being preserved in ice blocks, were from Erik, and he declares he acted to save Rabecca. Princess, the four men were found at a hatch leading to the second layer of the dungeon. After they attacked her, Erik stopped them, and, if she turned away and left them alive, then they would chase her down."

"He's in on it! This harlot flirts with him all the time! Besides, she could have locked the hatch!"

Princess Roselynde snapped her fan shut, and leaned her chin on a platform created by the backs of her hands. "Master-in-Chief, when did you last inspect the dungeon?"

Jorvan stuttered, "Well, there are procedures, I don't go, personally, uh--"

She cut him off. "How would you know the hatch could be locked? What is the nature of your friendship with Henry? How many female adventurers have disappeared under your care?"

"What is this? I'm not the one on trial here, she is!"

Yelling from outside the courtroom started. Moments later, Lady Elin and Erik burst forth, with a struggling man. Lady Elin dragged him forward and tossed him into the middle of the room. The constables didn't so much as touch a sword, they expected her arrival.

"Princess Roselynde, this is a Bartgorian slaver Walter and Erik captured while investigating the dungeon last night. Seems they planned to meet, and purchase a slave matching Rabecca's description."

Gasps of surprise and shock filled the room. Everyone gawked at Jorvan. If she wasn't wearing the muzzle, Rabecca would have screamed, 'Oh, you are so screwed!'

The constable's hand slapped on Jorvan's shoulder. He didn't need the order, Princess Roselynde intended to arrest him.

This trial was a farce. The princess wanted to get rid of Jorvan because he was useless as Master-in-Chief and working with Bartgoria. Was I really in any danger?

"Rabecca," Princess Roselynde said, spreading out her fan, "I have one question. Why didn't you lock the hatch? Could you have left those men behind alive? Nod or shake your head."

Damn.

Rabecca nodded.

"This trial went too quickly to be anything but a play, but I will pass judgment. As slimy as Jorvan is, and he will enjoy the full brunt of the King's Justice, he spoke the truth about adventurer confidence. Execution and punishment are the sole discretion of the nobility and delegated only by our hand. The kings of the past established precedents hundreds of years ago, and these form the pillars of our tenuous society. We survive behind walls. Monsters roam to kill us outside them, and we cannot tolerate murder inside. So, while I hold sympathy for your circumstances, I allow myself none since you undermined the King's Law. Vigilantism is incompatible with our kingdom's continuation. Henceforth, you are subjected to four years of punitive slavery per life taken, for a total of sixteen years. Bidding will begin immediately. I hope you are purchased by a decent owner."

That's not merciful at all! Sixteen years as a mage augmentee for the military. What if I get bought by a sadistic nobleman instead? Could I buy it off working with the Disciples of Venus? That's a living hell. Execute me now, or I'll just kill myself! Aphrodite, please! I've never prayed earnestly, but this one time, please.

Lord Walter cleared his throat.

A wide playful grin crossed Princess Roselynde's face. "Lord Walter, do you have something to add? Mind you, I won't reverse my decision. Unless, of course, you wish to go back on your principle not to disrupt society and use your power selfishly?"

Lord Walter dragged his hand down his face, "Skip the auction, I'll buy her."

"My, what an interesting development," Princess Roselynde giggled, "Did the hero decide to build a harem, after all?"