The wandering magistrate hadn't come, at least not alone. This time, someone much higher rank came with them to see what kind of job they were doing. The knomira and the wandering magistrate learn very quickly this higher-up person is NOT amused by the idea of any kind of corruption among their peers. And, fortunately, this one has the authority to put two individuals in their place, harshly.
@internutter/challenge-03888-j236-actionable-correction -- DaniAndShali
There were two horses coming into town. Two riders. One was the travelling magistrate, and the other... wore the livery of the Crown. Her riding dress wore a prominent depiction of the Whitekeep coat of arms on both chest and back. Her horns had a delicate silver diadem locked onto them. She was young, but held herself like a princess.
Because she was a princess. Princess Joyful Velvet Maripose Whitekeep, first of her name. Perfectly safe in the company of that magistrate because everyone knew who her father was.
Besides, the first daughter of the Thrice-Sworn King didn't need her Dad to cut off anyone's face for her. She was just as deadly as her sire. And she promised to be twice as deadly here. She didn't look down her nose at the citizens of Greenway Hollow, she examined them all in seconds as she passed. No wonder she assessed Nada Irontoe as an interfering, opinionated, busybody in an instant.
She sat in the town's court and worked on crochet as the increasingly nervous magistrate heard the disputes. Anyone looking at her might easily mistake her for a bored ladyship in her late teens, taking some version of the Grand Tour. Those prone to making even bigger mistake might see her as a Hellkin first and everything else a distant second.
Nada Irontoe was about to make two mistakes at once.
"I suppose you're fucking the teuf," she whispered. "Are you planning to keep it?" She felt something shove her face, and something wet and warm bumped off her lip before landing with a soft splat on the table. When she looked down, she saw it was something that looked something like part of a snail shell. Dripping blood and blooming pain helped her draw the conclusion.
That was part of her own nose.
The princess was no longer involved in crochet. She was cleaning a very pretty dagger with her kerchief. "My father never suffered that word," she said. "I will not either. Mind your manners, madam, or I'll make you eat your other nostril."
Nada tried to sputter, but found half her upper lip flapping about when she tried to speak.
"By order of the King, of whom I am acting as His Voice," said the princess, "You will not be healed by magic. You are ordered to tell the unvarnished truth of how you gained your scars. Such is the fate of all who insult the kin of the king. Such is the fate of all who use ignorant words for intelligent creatures."
"You arrogant little whelfpth," she could not say whelp. Not properly. "I will take this to the highest authority."
"Do it," said the princess. "You will find my father no easier to sway. I have read your complaints and judged thusly. You have too much time on your hands Miss Nada Irontoe. You are hereby enlisted as one of His Majesty's Helpers. You will be placed under Geas to truly help those who are in need. Wherever you see them. In seven years, the Geas will lift for a passage of three months. If you persist in recidivism, your term will renew." She had a small bauble in her hand, and Nada felt a growing stinging on her chest, just under her collarbone.
Later examination, after Widow Harlowe stitched her face together, revealed that the bauble had laid the Geas into Nada's flesh. Right over her heart.
Further discovery revealed that she had a compelling spirit as a permanent companion. The ghost of one of the people she had inadvertently killed through her prior actions.
[Photo by Morbite on Unsplash]
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