legal assistance;
@avyernan @jessipalooza @thepilgrimofwar I finally finished it... ))
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The day was crisp in Silvermoon, the only reflection of winter elsewhere on the continent. The faintest cool breeze meandered through the city as Eleeria made her way towards the impressive offices of the magisterium. It was not a place she went to nearly as willingly as she made herself believe -- and certainly a place she would not go, had she any other choice. The entire building was oppressive: every eye seemed to be upon her as she entered, and whether that fact was true or not, Eleeria avoided the gaze of every magister and Phoenix Guard on the premises as she marched up the stairs to the appointed door. The thing was simple: the office was an older and larger one, belonging to someone who clearly had been an established Magistrix for many years. Eleeria steeled herself -- it’s just talking, and it’s Avyernan’s wife, right? What’s so scary about that? -- and knocked, shifting from one foot to another.
The door swung open silently -- an invitation, if there ever was one. Eleeria took a few, cautious steps into the room, glancing around at the decor. The room itself was immaculate: elegantly decorated in the colors of Quel’thalas, the paneling was a dark wood, interspersed with at least twenty bookcases, all stuffed full of heavy tomes. The woman that used the room clearly approved of cleanliness. Aside from a few stacks of paper on her desk, placed to one side so that the older Sin’dorei could see the chair across from her, there seemed to be no visible mess in the room. While Eleeria had not openly carried any weapons, her hands still moved to the ones concealed in her loose blouse and high-waisted pants as she and Dahliria exchanged glances. There was nothing about this situation that she trusted. Not a single inch of the assassin she had become was comfortable being in the veritable seat of Thalassian law, seeing the power of the State so ornamentally displayed around her in certificates, letters of thanks, and books that coated the shelves.
Her hands were stilled, however, by a melodious but sharp tone from the woman behind the desk. “I suggest that whatever weaponry you were reaching for stays out of sight for this meeting, Miss Silverwing.” Eleeria froze, eyes immediately making their way from the decoration back to the woman behind the desk. Muscular and shapely, Dahliria appeared to be an imposing figure in her own right, regardless of the warnings that Avyernan had offered to her. Blonde hair cascaded across her right shoulder, and although the older woman was modestly dressed for paperwork in a white and gold robe, the small rogue had the feeling that they would not have given her such a spacious office for no particular reason. Her verdant gaze was piercing -- nearly as sharp as Eleeria’s own, a strange thing to see compared to her rather beautiful features. But Eleeria took care to note the shape of the woman’s well-defined muscles, and promptly decided that in no way did she want Dahliria anywhere near her in a fight.
“How do you know my name.” It was a tense statement, filled with anger and hesitation. Dahliria raised an eyebrow, the corner of her full lips sloping up in a half-smile as Eleeria continued. “There aren’t any public records--”
“Oh, Miss Silverwing. Did you think that you are the only person in this city who can be clandestine? Sit, please. We have a good many things to discuss. I am not sending you to prison just yet.” Dahliria motioned to the chair in front of her desk. Warily, the other woman stalked to the plush seat, carefully lowering her body into it as if it was of a mind to eat her. “Now. My husband tells me that you are in need of my services through the magistrate, for several crimes that you believe you were falsely accused of committing. Know that I am not generally in the business of aiding the murderers of this city; generally I prefer the prosecution of such crimes and their like. If it was my decision entirely, I would have you in chains and shipped off to one of our cells immediately.” The woman smiled, fingers curled together as she leaned across the desk. Eleeria’s eyes widened, and the rogue half-stood from the chair -- to run or to fight, or perhaps both. “Sit,” Dahliria commanded. A flick of the mage’s wrist and finger, and the chair pushed against Eleeria’s legs, forcing her back into the seat.
Dahliria stood, lacing her fingers behind her back as she walked around the desk. The magistrix observed Eleeria with a keen eye as she paced deliberately. “Now then. It seems that for whatever reason, my husband feels something akin to a responsibility for aiding you. I did not care to pry into his sordid relationship with you -- there are many things about Avyernan’s time between the war and now that I am not keen on being privy to. But I can only imagine that, judging by the time in which you met him, he acted like quite the disreputable sort. Which leads me to believe, from that knowledge and your criminal records littering my files, that you are a disreputable sort, Miss Silverwing. May I call you Eleeria?”
“I--” Eleeria did not even get a chance to tell the taller woman absolutely not before she continued, a smoldering finger coming up to silence her complaints.
Dahliria moved behind the rogue, allowing Eleeria a view of the low back of her robe, which surprisingly graced the curve of her hip bones. As terrified as she may have been of the mage’s display of power, considering the subject matter, she had to admit that the woman was terrifyingly beautiful. Magical runes trailed her spine, from the base of her neck all the way to the edge of her low dress. Eleeria understood none of them, complex and graceful in script, but the power radiating from them was evident. Whoever this woman was in the magistrate, she was most certainly a mage of some power.
“Eleeria,” Dahliria began again, giving a thoughtful sniff as she continued to pace. “I am doing this as a personal favor for my husband, whom I love dearly. Although I do not normally cavort with murderers, for him I would do most anything in this world. I love him more than my profession, more than myself on most days, all things being considered. I hope, for your sake, that you are sincere and contrite in your request to seek legal aid.” Dahliria moved in front of the chair and leaned in, her nose only scant inches from Eleeria’s. The rogue had not been terrified -- truly terrified -- in some time. But the sudden look of anger, and the heat radiating from Dahliria’s body, told her that unlike her friend Felo’thore, Dahliria’s fire would be perfectly ready and willing to scorch her to death where she stood. “Because, should you somehow cause him pain by trivializing his aid, or somehow deceive me? I will hunt you down, with all of the tools of my office at my disposal, and ensure that you are locked in a cell for the rest of your rather long lifespan. You will be trapped, forever at the State’s mercy, and I will ensure that no matter if I die before you or not, that you will suffer for the rest of your miserable days. Do I make myself clear, Eleeria…?”
The rogue fell silent for a long moment. Nothing existed but the glare between the two women, and Eleeria could only think of one thing to say after such a speech. “Shit.”
“That is what I assumed you would say, and I shall take it as a ‘yes’.” As soon as the tension had arisen, it evaporated. Dahliria resumed her seat behind her desk, smiling at Eleeria as if she had not threatened the woman’s livelihood mere moments before. “Now...let us discuss these two incidents. I am your counsel, and you should not be afraid to tell me the entire truth. That will help me best make decisions in your favor. I will do what I can -- the Magistrate is not often known for letting murderers slip through their fingers. But for you, I will try my very hardest, Miss Silverwing.”
Eleeria could not allow herself to relax; every nerve was on edge from the threat that had been presented to her, and she found she could not calm down. Still, Eleeria somehow managed a sharp and slim smile, nodding once. It was a reasonable enough facsimile of her normal confidence, and even the faking of it did well for her nerves. “Fine. Now that you’ve given me the fucking speech of the century, what do you know, and what don’t you know?” A deep breath -- inhale, hold, and exhale -- and she smiled more naturally. Eleeria was intimidated, to be sure. Sitting in the power center of the Thalassian state, talking to a woman who appeared to be able to think circles around her on any given day, was incredibly terrifying. But Eleeria had never been easily cowed or defeated. She simply had to muster her courage and think; another breath, another smile, and the small rogue met the mage’s eyes easily, a sparkle of her normal determination shining through her cheshire facade. She could think her way through this political maze. She simply had to put her mind to it, rather than run from the challenge.
“I know only what the case files tell me.” Dahliria stood, giving Eleeria a curious gaze -- as if she were a strange puzzle of a woman -- before her attention turned to the file cabinets nearby. It floated open at her approach, a rather large series of folders magically pulling themselves from the drawer and depositing themselves in Dahliria’s hands. “Before you attempt to sneak into this building to retrieve these for yourself, know that the magic of the device only works for me and my superiors. Should you attempt to try, you would find yourself rather swiftly incarcerated.” The mage strode towards the desk again, pulling up the other armchair on the visiting side. With a huff, Dahliria put the files down in the center of the desk, pulling the first one into her lap so that Eleeria could see as well. “See?”
“What’s that say?” Thalassian -- all in tiny, scribbled handwriting -- made her head hurt. Eleeria frowned, leaning over and squinting at the font. “Lady, I’m not very good at reading in the first place. Whoever wrote that’s got to be some sort of serial scribbler, hm? Can you just paraphrase it for me, please~?” Eleeria batted her eyelashes at Dahliria, earning a small scowl and the briefest of sighs from the older woman.
Shaking her head to rid the hair from her eyes, Dahliria finally resigned herself to a nod. “Yes, I can ‘paraphrase,’ if you truly are illiterate.” Still, she left the file where Eleeria could see -- just in case. “This case is quite old, and the evidence for it appears to be nonexistent. It is as if you simply...disappeared on the eve of trial. Whatever the Lord Emberbough was doing in a back alley of the Murder Row, no one could deny that you were standing above him when he was found, dead in a pool of his own blood.”
“He tried to kill my friend!” Her response was angry and immediate. “Was I just supposed to sit there and watch him do it? Let her be the fucking body on the floor?”
“There is sometimes not a clean option, at least not where the law is concerned. The situation is quite old--” Dahliria paused, pursing her lips. The case was almost certainly as cold as the grave the previous Lord Emberbough now resideded in. But the woman Eleeria had saved, named Ahno’mera, seemed to still reside in the Fairbreeze Estate’s large cove-port on Sunstrider Isle. Certainly it would be a challenging case to litigate, but one with perhaps enough evidence in the younger woman’s defense that Dahliria would not have any difficulty in getting them to acquit the small rogue currently in her charge. “Well. It is old, but there is promise for us. Your foster mother appears to be still alive and well -- certainly able to testify. The prosecution also offered no evidence of intent, which factors in your favor. The more troubling case is the second charge, which happened only a few years past.”
Eleeria’s ears wilted slightly, but she frowned. “The fight in the exchange.” She remembered the fight without needing to look at the next case file. The newest charge was heavily documented, pictures and memorandums sticking out of the sides of the folder. Eleeria realized that she would need to think quickly to avoid any sort of fault here -- the fact that she had stabbed a man in the middle of Silvermoon while piss-drunk was not exactly a convincing excuse for acquitting a charge of murder. She bit her lip, appearing contrite and concerned for the moment as the magistrix spoke once more.
“Yes.” Dahliria met the other woman’s gaze calmly. “Explain to me what happened, in your own words. I have seen the reports from the city guard, but I would like to hear what you have to say for yourself before I consider our options.”
With a breath, Eleeria began: an actor on the stage of her life and livelihood, with no performance more convincing to the audience. “I don’t really remember it. I had just lost my hand--” She stuck out the left limb, which was without a knife and a wooden hand today, revealing the scars on her forearm. “And I was...upset. Someone started making fun of me for it. I remember being shoved up against a wall, and I was drunk, and a little high on bloodthistle. They tried to feel me up and I just snapped, right? I don’t even remember...I just remember seeing the guard, and running away. I got home and I was covered in blood and I don’t know -- I’m sorry.” She did seem, for all intents and purposes, genuinely sorry for her actions. “I really don’t remember very well.”
Dahliria nodded, pursing her lips in concern. “A simple intoxication defense could be offered on your behalf. However, running from the guard, and waiting so long to come to terms with the offense...Eleeria, these charges are serious. They will not simply accept that you were drunk when you were found after the man’s hands had been cut off.”
“You don’t have to fucking tell me that! I just need them gone. I don’t remember it. I wasn’t even able to comprehend what I was doing--” Dahliria stood, taking the files back to her desk and sitting them down in the center to peruse further. “You have to help. Please.”
“I will see what I can do.” The gears were already processing in Dahliria’s mind. Perhaps they could not completely erase the charges alone, but Quel’thalas was not exactly built on moral righteousness. A properly placed coin could easily sway minds -- the thought rankled her ordinarily earnest sensibilities. But for Avyernan she would do anything, including suggest something slightly less than legal, but certainly more than accepted in the practice as it stood. And truth be told, Eleeria’s earnest demeanor -- including the brief frustration at her own inability to remember -- was infuriating, and yet...the older woman sympathized with her plight. It was like speaking to a morally crooked version of herself. Certainly she had not been above murder, the one purposeful time it had occurred. Not to mention every death after that, with the machination of mana bomb after mana bomb -- indirect killings, but the blood of those victims stained her heart nonetheless. Those deaths laid heavy on her conscience, and although she was certain of the path she had taken in life, sure of her own self-worth and purpose, the chill of their skeletal fingers never stopped gripping at her heart. Perhaps, Dahliria thought, that by helping Eleeria relieve herself of her crimes, the magistrix also sought to remove the claws from her own heart. Quel’thalas had been forgiving of murderers and thieves many times in its past. She would see what she could accomplish with this one, as pert as she was. Their eyes met, and Dahliria sighed, sitting down at her desk and hiding her abruptly misty gaze behind stacks of paperwork.
Eleeria watched the older woman process her feelings behind Dahliria’s solid courtier’s mask of emotion, wondering what she was thinking. Dahliria Goldenwood was anger incarnate: a righteous justice, the sword of fire. She could almost see the flames that curled inside of the older magistrix. They were flames that the older woman had used to strengthen herself, by shaping their wrath to her purpose. But as the woman spoke about the law, Eleeria had developed her plan for finding her way out of this legal trouble, smoothly and seamlessly. Sympathy was not an emotion she was personally capable of, but Eleeria could see that Dahliria had it in spades. As the intelligent woman had spun the tale of Eleeria’s upcoming legal drama, the rogue knew that should could manipulate that emotion to her advantage, getting the magistrix to jump through hoops for her she had not initially intended. The fact that she seemed personally interested in the partially false tale was all for the better.
The last account of the brawl in the Exchange had, of course, been entirely made up -- Eleeria knew as well as anyone that killing a man in the city center was not going to go over well with the government. While the first charge was a triviality -- easy enough to disprove with a good lawyer -- the second would require lies, and some persuasive sniffles and tears. The real account was much different in the telling. The dead man had, in fact, shoved her into the wall -- but she had easily disarmed him, and had been well in the process of dismembering him when the guard arrived. He was some asshole looking for a quick lay, and assumed the drunk woman with a missing hand would be a good candidate for a fuck. Eleeria had snapped so easily, drunk and angry at herself and the world. The story was different in earnest, but sounded much better the way Eleeria had casually manipulated it for Dahliria’s ears. Certainly it seemed to draw much more sympathy from the magistrix than she had expected -- and certainly more enticing than a remorseless story about dismembering a man limb from limb. It would inspire more of the woman’s aid than the cruel rogue ever could in reality, and that was all that mattered. However, Eleeria kept those feelings to herself, carefully hiding her plot behind an expression of vague neutrality. “So...what next?”
“I need some time to figure out my next steps. The first charge is, of course, the easier of the two to combat -- the second will require some...maneuvering. You will hear from me in a few weeks.”
“Weeks?” Eleeria paused, startled.
“Of course.” Dahliria finally mastered her sympathetic emotions. She blinked her eyes rapidly, glancing up from behind the hefty pile of paperwork once she had hidden her sympathies behind a cultured, emotionless mask once more. “The law takes time and patience. I will do my work for you, if you have both of these things.” She paused, before amending. “That, and if you have a rather hefty sum of gold. I am not offering you a free service.” Dahliria named her fee with a sharp smile -- she had, of course, been informed by her husband that Eleeria could pay quite handsomely for her services. A gift to her husband these cases may have been, but she was not providing a gift to one of Silvermoon’s notorious assassins.
“Wait-- what?” That was an actual startle -- Eleeria sat up stiff and straight in her chair. Was Dahliria expecting to extort her? That was a lot of money, the fee ringing in the greedy rogue’s ears.
“Agree to pay, or I ask you to leave now and not return, Eleeria.”
“...Say that number one more time?”
The shriek of the money-loving rogue, and the laughter of the vicious mage that followed, echoed down the halls of the magisterium.
