08: Justice and Redemption

As the Bagir's guards took the laughing assassin away, Alexa sat quietly, her eyes firmly planted on the floor as the Chyof's scribe asked for their statements. She spoke when addressed, quietly affirming or giving detail where required. She didn't look at her companions, nor did she look at the door. Again, she was grateful for the veils - 'perhaps I should never remove them,' she thought, grimacing as Spider recounted the deaths of lizardfolk and humans.

They had completed the task. It was finished. She had done as required - she had done as requested. She was a killer, not a murderer and had done as asked -

Why did it keep coming back to that? A killer not a murderer. And yet...switch perspectives for a moment. She herself had brought a small army of lizardfolk to attack people working for Tallman. Was she their killer too? Where did the responsibility end? Where did it begin? With her acceptance of the contract? She glanced at her own name prettily carved out on the page, and longed to be that girl again. Unconfused, unhindered by the things she had seen and heard.

She hadn't been able to watch as they took Mirayam away, but she hadn't been able to stop the involuntary shudders that had shaken her frame as the assassin giggled - nor the tautness of her hands in her lap as Chevalier went to help those guards keep watch over her.

Hearing her laugh made no sense to Alexa - the woman should be crying - Alexa would have been crying and pleading for whatever life she could have. Mirayam and Martell were cut from the same foreign cloth: fearing death shouldn't be an issue so much as the manner of it. Alexa knew that the manner of death these people had wrought on people was awful, that they deserved to swing - that hanging was justice - and justice made people feel better about the awful outcomes to awful decisions.

Before all this, Spider had said he didn't - hadn't killed much. But he was complimented by an assassin on how close he was to killing her - how willing he was to kill - seemingly without thought. Was he a killer, then, or a murderer? That acolyte...he didn't think twice, he just did it. Killing came easily to him. Vee ran when he realised Spider might be left alone with her. He knew Spider might...

"I spoke with the lizardfolk. They are a matriarchal society and very practical. If you trade, send a woman such as yourself, Bagir."

What made someone like Lucas good and someone like Mirayam bad? Both killed for money. Both kill as a profession, and as Lucas said himself, both enjoyed the job. So why was a soldier better than an assassin? What made Ixachaz better than Mirayam, what made Alexandrie better than Mirayam? Because it was an accident? Did accidents make it alright? Was it because she was defending herself?

So was Mirayam. What prospects did the bastard daughter of a noble have? She told them her options - of all people, Spider, the bastard understood. He had, Alexa thought. He had. She glanced at him as he twirled his fake moustache and wiggled his eyebrows.

There was a bounty on their heads. The veils, a disguise, had seemed so frivolous, so unnecessary before. Now, though...

They would be leaving here as soon as possible. Sailing to Glitter Delta Cove. Alexa glanced at Lucas and sighed internally at his absurd faked accent. He had said he would earn her trust. Just a few days ago. As with everything to do with the young Sanjuio, trust was a complicated ask. He had shown himself to be kind and fair, in his way, but his behaviour was impulsive and dangerous at times. How he went through life so far out of control of himself, she didn't understand. And she was still unsure whether he had wanted to hand Mirayam in because of justice or...some other reason the half-elf couldn't define. Embarrassment? That wasn't it, though that was probably part of it.

Justice...Alexa didn't like the word. She didn't understand it. It seemed to her that justice meant vastly different things depending on who said it. To Chevalier, it seemed to mean facing the consequences of actions. She could understand that, almost, if justice were equal. The Progress Confederacy was a meritocracy. She was a noble because her grandmère was a noble. But more - the Donadieu family were a relatively young noble family. That's what meritocracy meant. Grandmère had to earn the right to the title she held. 'Where,' she thought, glancing at the doorway, 'was the justice in killing Mirayam because she had killed, without bringing the same judgement upon Alexandrie herself?' Why was the assassin's father not punished, or her mother, or the people who trained her? What about those who restricted her options and pushed her to her role?

She had pled for her employee's lives. Was she evil? Or just doing the job as required? She had tried to simply send them away initially. Was that evil? Alexa thought again of the elf. What made Mirayam awful and worthy of death but redeemed the elf? They were both doing their jobs...

Finally, they stood and the Bagir handed Spider another bag of coin. Some of that, she knew, would be used to bring them distinctly closer to their goal. La Chanson played in the back of her mind, frustratingly evading direct thought, as if watching her wrestle with morality. Her thought of the Song deepened and she felt a little tug inland. To the centre, she knew, the same as it always was. Would whatever they found explain justice to her? Would it explain the difference - the true difference for a grieving family - between killing and murder? Perhaps.

Biting her lip in thought, she slipped her hand in Chevalier's as they left the manor house.

They would likely not, she knew, see eye to eye on this. That didn't mean he would stop protecting her, nor she him. That she loved him any less. It did mean, however, that they had a lot of lively discussion ahead.

Perhaps she didn't fully understand the nuances of good and right or justice and mercy yet. Protecting life - all life - would always be difficult. There would be people like Lucas, people like Vee who believed justice was more important than life, sometimes.

For herself, justice meant offering a chance at redemption. Some deaths were unavoidable, but could be paid for in other ways. In another world, Mirayam perhaps would have gone to the Deliverance and found peace. Perhaps not. Some of her blood would be on Alexa's hands too, mingling with that of lizardfolk and humans she thought of when she stopped for too long.

La Chanson had not abandoned her through all this. It knew death was unavoidable. Whether it agreed with her decisions fully, she couldn't know. What she did know is that she would keep doing as La Chanson asked. La Chanson was worth killing for - would always be worth killing for.

She hummed softly as they walked toward the docks. Her redemption started now.