Vibrancy in Jade

The priest stood behind his Shining Blade friends as they carried out the latest result of the criminal trials that had been sweeping the city. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the poor woman, a scribe who had been found guilty of treason and heresy, was lashed to the stocks while the authorities read out her judgment, prison until she’d be much too old to ever consider marrying. She looked positively mortified and traumatized standing up there, the daughter of a banker who until now had been accustomed to wearing the finest silks and drinking the finest wines.

Was the woman really White Mantle? Well of course she was, naturally. It had seemed that she would be getting off scott free, because her father had pulled every string imaginable in order to excuse her from her guilt. It also helped that, as the encouragement of their priest, a number of the young lady’s servants came forward with enlightening testimony of a secret Mursaat shrine she kept in her budoir, how she was seen in the forest naked participating in distasteful White Mantle rituals, among other things.

Once the crowd had dispersed and the good lady was left alone in the stocks, the priest approached, looking up at the platform at her. “Do you have anything to say to a man of the Six, milady?” he asked, smiling. 

“Oh, father, please, I am innocent of this crime! I am being unjustly punished!” she sobbed, her hair stringy and matted from the rotting fruit that had been thrown at her. 

Egan sighed and got closer, his hands idly rubbing over the prayer beads on his robe. “I know. But you will be punished regardless. Sometimes people have their lives ruined for no reason other than those with authority over them abuse their power. Perhaps I will invite those governesses and stable boys and maids who have served in your house. I believe they would be able to sympathize with you.”

“It is most unfortunate.” He said, unslinging a simple leather sack. “Those who hate find easy prey among those they resent or feel jealous of. It is not the first time this happen, nor it will be the last.” His syntax was odd, though he spoke careful New Krytan.

Something about him seemed out of place and odd, though the man seemed simply a young Krytan of Canthan heritage with hair bleached white. Something far too peaceful.

He had unslung a flagon, and poured it into a bowl. A cloth, soaked, cleaned the imprisoned girl’s face gently, and he calmly and methodically began to clean her hair as he continued to speak.

“When there is fear, and the corrupt inflame it, always it is the ones they are most jealous of that they will hurt. The weak. They who cannot fight back. You may hate them right now. But your heart is not crafted to hate.” A wide toothed comb had been added to the unexpected kindness which had left her silently weeping.

“Pity those who have snakes for hearts, child. Forgive them. It is so terribly unfair, but it can only make you a stronger person for it. And I believe that you can become strong. Drink in the pure air. Let the sun warm you. And when they scream and vilify you, or seek to stab you with cruel tongues.. remember: they are the water washing past you. They can only affect you if you let them.”

Guards approached him, scowling, and he turned and smiled peacefully to them. This would not be the first day.. or the first victim of a mob Shi Xun had tended to. Once, long ago, in another life, they had been feared as would-be Afflicted, and the Ministry of Purity had done similar foul work.

He knew what became of such things. He remembered the terror of those times.

Isambard’s ultimate ancestor, the ritualist Shi Xun. Blame him for Isambard’s changes and Di’s gifts.