[Final Fantasy IV] Every Light Casts A Shadow, Chapter Twenty-Three: Execution of Justice

[lassarina]

Pairings/Characters: Kain Highwind, plus cast
Rating: R (overall), PG (this chapter)
Warnings: Spoilers. Violence and language. Occasional sexual content. Other warnings may apply that are not listed here.
Notes: This fic belongs to the Lucis Ante Terminum arc. Chapter list is here.
Summary: Though it is possible to return home, it is rarely possible to return affairs to their previous state. Sometimes the only course of action is to move forward.
Wordcount: 3800 this chapter.
Beta: celeloriel

Kain watched from a hidden passageway as the throne room filled with the members of the Council. Matthew Darmin stood for his House in today's trial, since the head of the House was serving as the Crown's advocate. The others filed in and seemed to be seating themselves in a less segregated fashion than was usual.

Kain hoped that it bode well for the Crown's interests that day.

Beside him, Rosa stirred. "I do not much care for skulking and spying in this manner," she said.

"You need not if you do not wish it," Kain said. "I prefer to watch thusly rather than stare at stone walls. It keeps me from using up my entire stock of patience ere the trial even begins."

Rosa shook her head and retreated from the room back into the safety and company of her ladies-in-waiting. Kain remained where he was, analyzing the mood of the nobles who would cast their votes this afternoon. As in his own trial two years earlier, the final vote belonged to the Crown, but it was unwise to overtly contravene the wishes of the Council too often. From the expressions and commentary the previous day, he was moderately certain that most of them would vote for execution without even hearing the evidence—Lords Vyran and Marek had not been making particular friends of late, particularly with their continued stubborn resistance on every single topic brought forth in council meetings—yet it was never wise to bet on that which he did not control.

"Uncle Kain?" Jalen tugged on his hand, and Kain turned to look down at him.

"Yes, King Jalen?"

"Will I be allowed to speak at the trial?" Jalen asked. Kain could not discern if excitement or dread prompted the question.

"You may ask questions as you like," he replied carefully.

Jalen thought about this for a moment. "Will you and Mama be saying whether they are guilty or innocent?" he asked. "Like Papa did at your trial?"

"Yes," Kain answered. "As the King, it may be your duty to oversee trials of this nature. What I would like you to do is listen to the evidence that is given, and decide what verdict you would give. You can then tell Her Majesty and I what you have decided, before the official verdict is given. But remember, Your Majesty, that if you would sentence a man to death—which is the usual sentence, in cases of treason—you must also be willing to see that sentence carried out, or to carry it out yourself. Do you understand?"

Jalen nodded slowly. "You mean that I might have to use a real sword, and really hurt someone, not just the games like you have been teaching me."

Kain nodded and bowed. "Just as you say, Your Majesty."

"Uncle Kain?"

"Yes, King Jalen?"

"How come you never call me and Mama and Sophia by our names anymore?"

The question caught him off-guard, though perhaps it should not have. He wondered if this was what being a parent was: questions that were both awkward and painful, through no fault of the questioner himself. "Just now I called you by your name, King Jalen," he answered carefully.

Jalen shook his head. "No, you called me by my title," he said, and Kain was struck by the fierceness of his tone. "You used to just call me Jalen, and I remember you called Mama and Papa by their names, too. But since—since Papa died, you only use titles."

"To do otherwise would not be proper," he said. "I wish that things could be different—I wish that things could be as they were before. But I am regent for you, Your Majesty, and I must treat you with respect lest your subjects think they can be overly familiar with you when you are King in your own right."

Jalen stared down at the stonework beneath his feet, and scuffed the toe of his shoe across the floor. "Even when we're alone?"

"Even when we are alone, Your Majesty," he said, and sank to one knee so that he would be better able to meet Jalen's eyes. "Your Majesty, I too miss the days when I could be more familiar with you, but you must remember that even if we seem to be alone, there are guards nearby and there could be people listening to what we say. I would not have it said that I have behaved improperly toward you."

Jalen scowled fiercely. "I would not let anyone! I'll order them not to say it!"

"No, my king," Kain said softly. "That is exactly what you must not do. If you give such orders, you risk unrest and rebellion. "

Jalen sighed and seemed to droop. "Why do they hate me, Uncle Kain?"

Kain longed to hug him, and after a quick check to be sure that no one was nearby, he decided to chance it. Jalen clung tightly to him, and Kain patted him gently on the back. "They do not hate you, Your Majesty. They hate me, and they hate that you are ruler over them, but they do not hate you."

"They shouldn't hate you," Jalen muttered. "It's not fair."

"Sometimes, my king, life is not as fair as we might wish it were."

A new thought seemed to strike Jalen, and he straightened. "Isn't that what I do as King?" he asked. "Make it fair?"

Kain's throat threatened to close entirely. Cecil, my friend, if you could see your son now, you would be so very proud of him. "A king should strive to be fair in all of his deeds and words," he said, and hoped that Jalen did not notice the unevenness of his tone.

Jalen nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Uncle Kain," he said. "Are you ready?"

Marveling at the resilience of children, Kain rose and brushed away the dust that had clung to his trousers. "I am ready, Your Majesty."

Jalen held out his hand to be led, and Kain escorted him out of the hidden chamber. Rosa was waiting for them at the end of the hallway.

"Are you ready, Your Majesty?" Kain asked her.

"One should never be ready to make this type of decision, but it makes no difference." Rosa straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Kain watched her draw the royal presence about herself like her familiar white cloak. "Let us go forth to hear what our subjects have wrought," she said.

Kain took the first space in their little procession, with Jalen behind him and Rosa behind Jalen. He nodded to the guards, who opened the doors for them and announced their arrival.

Kain chose to take his time when passing between the rows of seats, moving at a leisurely pace to better analyze the mood of the room. Most of the nobility appeared somber, and all were very carefully not looking at Lords Vyran and Marek, who were with their advocates at the table on the west side of the room. Lord Darmin was alone at the table on the east side, though Lord Nerthic had positioned himself directly behind that table so as to be more accessible if Lord Darmin should require his aid.

There were occasional low murmurs of conversation, all amplified by the bare stone walls and floor of the room, but for the most part, they were quiet. It seemed that most had already made their decisions regarding the innocence or guilt of the accused. Kain saw that many of those who had been vocal in their disapproval of, or opposition to, Cecil's policies looked faintly nervous. No, my lords, your rank does not absolve you of your actions, he thought.

He reached the dais at the far end of the room and ascended the three shallow steps, hearing Jalen's soft footsteps and the click of Rosa's heeled slippers as they did the same. A smaller throne, better suited to Jalen's size, had been constructed and placed at the center of the dais. Two additional thrones, less ornate than the one Odin and Cecil had used, flanked it. The King seated himself first, and Kain and Rosa followed suit. The council seated themselves quietly, and the guards pulled the double doors shut with a resounding thud.

The advocates for the defense presented their usual posturing. Kain was glad to see that the advocate House Marek had retained for Kain's own trial had not appeared in the trial today. Lord Darmin waited patiently through their protestations of innocence and claims that there had been a terrible misunderstanding, then rose at Kain's nod to present his case.

"The Crown possesses significant evidence linking these two men to plans to raise rebellion in Damcyan. In addition, they can be proven to have links to the assassination attempt against King Jalen two years ago. These actions are treasonous, and must be punished severely as would any threat to the Crown."

"Lord Darmin," Kain said, "please present your evidence."

Those few of the nobility who had not been at the prior day's council session looked more and more stern as Lord Darmin laid out the evidence piece by piece, beginning with the diagrams of the castle and battle plans for the rebellion. Evidently he had spent a considerable amount of time the evening before preparing the case, for he cited many details that had not been mentioned in the previous day's session. Kain watched in mild amusement as those nobles who had seated themselves in the row immediately behind Lords Vyran and Marek endeavoured to lean back away from the accused, as their benches were too heavy to physically move away.

Lord Darmin completed his recitation with the most damning pieces of evidence: a comparison between the weapons located in Mist, and similar pieces made by the House smiths for sale at the House's commercial concerns. The sheathed weapons were passed carefully around the courtroom, and Kain watched the few remaining skeptical and indecisive faces harden into condemning expressions.

When Lord Darmin concluded his presentation, Jalen leaned forward. "I have a question," he said.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Lord Darmin addressed Jalen as the King, not falling prey to the condescension that many adults employed when dealing with children.

"Could another smith have copied the marks?" Jalen asked.

Kain rubbed a hand over the lower half of his face as though he was thinking hard, but in actuality he was concealing a proud, if slight, smile.

"It is extremely unlikely, Your Majesty. The marks are identical in every particular. We were unable to find anything that might suggest an effort at forgery."

Jalen nodded and sat back in his chair. Lord Darmin turned the floor over to the defense.

Kain had to give the advocates credit; they made the best of a very bad situation, and did so with grace and care. They must have seen the decision writ plainly on the faces of the nobility, but they still examined each piece of evidence thoroughly, seeking any flaws. Lord Nerthic had done an exceptional job in assembling it, and their efforts came to naught.

Lord Vyran attempted to testify, but accomplished very little beyond making himself look like what he was: a man frightened half out of his wits. Lord Marek contented himself with directing contemptuous looks at the thrones upon the dais, and ignoring the murmurs of his peers behind him.

When at last the defense advocates relinquished the floor, Kain glanced at Rosa. She nodded very faintly. Kain bent forward to Jalen. "How would you judge, Your Majesty?" he whispered.

Jalen shook his head, looking sorrowful. "I listened as hard as I could, Uncle Kain," he whispered back, "but I think they are guilty."

Kain nodded. "And do you accept the consequences of that judgment, King Jalen?" he asked.

He was pleased to see Jalen hesitate before nodding. "Yes, Uncle Kain. I do."

Kain glanced once more at Rosa, who nodded again, her mouth set in a grim line. All three of them rose from their seats as one.

"The Regents feel that sufficient evidence has been presented to give a verdict," Rosa said clearly. "We ask that the nobility present their opinions as follows. Would those who find the defendants to be innocent, either singly or together, raise their hands, please?"

Though she waited a full count of twenty, no one moved.

"Would those who do not care to present a verdict please raise their hands?" Kain said. Although he waited the same period of time, no one raised their hands, not even the heirs of Vyran and Marek. Lord Marek's heir was very carefully not looking at her father. Lord Vyran's heir had an eagerly avaricious look on his face as he awaited the final findings; Kain made a mental note to follow up on his activities in the future.

"Would those who find the defendants to be guilty, either singly or together, please raise their hands?" Rosa sighed almost inaudibly when thirty hands were raised in near unison, with Lord Vyran's heir being the first by a very narrow margin over Lord Nerthic.

Rosa squared her shoulders and set her chin stubbornly. Kain drew a deep breath. "The Crown finds Lord Edwin Vyran and Lord Alan Marek guilty of treason against the nation of Baron. In accordance, the Crown sentences Lord Edwin Vyran and Lord Alan Marek to execution by the sword. The execution will be carried out at dusk. Those wishing to have final words with these men may do so between now and then. The court is adjourned."

One by one, the nobles rose and filed out of the room. Lord Darmin was the last to go save the convicted men, and Kain saw from his expression that the verdict sat ill with him.

Truth be told, it sat ill with Kain as well; though he was as glad to be rid of those particular thorns, he did not believe their replacements would be an improvement, and he was still plagued by the nagging feeling that there was a greater force at work, whose effects he could see, but not the force itself.

Members of the castle guard escorted Lords Vyran and Marek from the room; the former blubbered most unbecomingly and shouted rude sentiments as he was led away, while the latter simply glowered.

Rosa sighed when all of them had departed, and rubbed her eyes. "So it is done," she said.

"Yes." Kain had no words of comfort for her.

"Uncle Kain," Jalen said, "shall I have to swing the sword myself, tonight?"

Kain's stomach clenched in a completely irrational panic at the thought of all of this staining Jalen's hands so young; he saw the flash of horror across Rosa's face before she schooled it to stillness, and waited for his response. "No, Your Majesty," he said as calmly as he could. "This time, I will perform the execution." Mighty Bahamut, wise and powerful, let this be the last such trial in his lifetime. Let his hands remain clean; let him remember this day so that he will not rule capriciously in the future, but let it not twist him.

He did not realize he had spoken the prayer aloud—albeit under his breath—until he caught Rosa's startled look, though the tension that had seized her ebbed. Jalen seemed blessedly unaware of Kain's unintentional speech, and instead climbed down from his seat. "Uncle Kain?" he said.

"Yes, King Jalen?"

"Will you teach me swords today?"

"No, my king, I cannot teach you swords today. We will practice tomorrow. For today, I believe there are lessons that you have been missing until now, are there not?"

Jalen sighed, and Kain repressed a faint smile. He remembered being that age and longing desperately to be outside and away, running wild with Cecil in the orchards and fields. More than once, the two of them had slipped away from insufficiently attentive tutors and governesses, and fled the castle to engage in various mild mischief.

It was the first time in two years that the thought of Cecil had not been painful.

Amelia, the nursemaid who still tended to Jalen and Sophia, entered quietly and collected her elder charge. Kain watched him go, already distracted by the plague of lessons, and then just sank back into his seat, closing his eyes.

"Sometimes I think I do not know my son at all," Rosa said, and her tone was less harsh than it had been in some time. She sounded weary, and sad, but without the underlying notes of resentment that she had been directing at him for almost two years.

"Sometimes, I think I do not know anyone," Kain replied. He leaned his head back against the back of the throne, ignoring the raised carving that dug into his scalp. "How did it come to this?"

"To what?" Rosa asked.

"This. You and I as regents, condemning men to death without being able to find the cause of their crime, Jalen asking if he must wield the sword that will slay them...Bahamut's teeth, Rosa, how did this happen?" Kain knew he was irrationally angry about the entire matter—it was no secret that evil lay in the hearts of men, and that they would act upon it, yet it frustrated him intensely that he could find no better cause than that for the reality of politics.

"Wherever there is evil in the hearts of men," Rosa murmured.

Hearing the phrase aloud tickled Kain's memory, and he sat upright. "What was that that you just said, my lady?"

Rosa gave him a quizzical look. "I said, 'wherever there is evil in the hearts of men.' Why do you ask?"

Kain rubbed his eyes. "Can it truly be so simple and yet so complex as that?"

"As what?" Rosa leaned toward him, a faint frown creasing her brow. A moment later, her eyes widened. "You think it is Zeromus," she accused him.

"Would it not make sense?" Kain sighed. "I hope and pray that it is not, for I am not of a mind to go charging back to the moon, and at any rate, they are gone—Cecil told me, years ago, that he felt them go."

"I think it very unlikely at best," Rosa said.

"I think it unlikely as well, but it is possible."

"You are jumping at shadows," Rosa said, and her tone was brisk. "We have better tasks to which we might set our hands and minds, Captain. Let us do so."

As he followed her out of the throne room, Kain wondered if her use of his old title was intentional, and if so, if it indicated forgiveness.

~*~

The sun was sinking slowly into the western sky, wrapped in crimson and purple splendour. Kain had donned his Dragoon armour, worn only for formal ceremonies now, and had taken up his spear. He had left behind the holy-infused spear for which they had battled Plague in the Lunar Subterrane; this was not a fitting use for such a fine and blessed weapon. Instead, he had taken up a fire-aspected spear.

Jalen waited some five steps behind him, garbed in formal court attire. Rosa stood beside her son in a formal white gown. Only Kain stood ahead to face the men that they had earlier condemned to death.

You were wrong, Rosa, he thought as the castle guard led Lord Vyran out first, followed by Lord Marek. Mine are the only hands to be stained by this ill affair; I and I alone will carry the weight of their blood on me.

Baron's chief priest stepped forward, and invoked the attention of the gods. Kain waited through the lengthy prayer beseeching the gods to direct these souls to greater enlightenment hereafter, and watched the sun sink farther.

The prayer ended, and Kain removed the leather guard from the head of his lance. The metal glowed a dull red, like embers of a campfire. Even through his gauntlets, Kain was conscious of the living warmth of the weapon.

All of the nobility had gathered to witness this execution, the first in the realm for treason since the beginning of King Odin's reign. They were oddly silent, only the flapping of silk in the breeze betraying their presence.

Bahamut, guide my hand, that I may strike true and swift, Kain thought, and took up his stance.

Lord Vyran had hunched in on himself, as though by slouching he thought somehow to protect himself from his fate. Kain struck in a single graceful motion, the spear moving with the swiftness of a flickering flame, and Lord Vyran crumpled to the ground without so much as a sigh. He drew back and turned, the lance leaping forward like the first blaze of a flame on fresh wood, and Lord Marek fell as silently.

He drew back into a Dragon Knight's formal waiting posture, the spear upright at his side, casting an eerie red glow over his deep-blue armour. The priest spoke a final blessing over the two corpses. Kain watched the beads of blood dry unnaturally fast on the head of his spear, and held himself immobile.

At last the benedictions were done, and the families came forward to claim the corpses. Kain stood watch until the last of it was done, and then returned to his chambers.

Elizabeth said nothing when he returned, only helped him to doff his armour. She sat quietly by while he cleaned the blood from his spear, devoting herself to a book whose title he could not see. He found her silence more soothing than any words she could have spoken.

When he had finished cleaning the spear and set it aside in the rack that held his weapons, she rose from her seat. "I have had supper sent up," she said. "I know you did not eat before, and I thought you would have little stomach for the great hall this evening."

"Thank you." Kain walked with her into the next room, where a maidservant was just setting out the last dish. She bobbed a quick curtsey and left the room, leaving them alone.

Kain held Elizabeth's chair for her, and she thanked him quietly as she seated herself. He took his own seat and stared at his plate, unsure of what he could say that would not address politics, a matter of which he was heartily sick at this moment.

"Let us eat, and not speak of it," Elizabeth said firmly. "There will be time enough for you to be the regent tomorrow; tonight, I would have you be my husband."

The smile felt strange on his face, as did the feeling of peace that her words prompted. "As my lady bids, then," he said.

She smiled, and poured the wine.