Guðrún would appear for Court one day, tidy but in her usual simple white tunic and no jewelry. She’s not wearing her usual thick layer of makeup to make herself look older. She is there to publicly present a petition similar to the one she sent privately after the first set of Shadow storms hit Casablanca, but which George and Arnhilde ignored.

She’d present the petition quietly and respectfully and wait an answer from the thrones.

There is quite a pause, during which George’s face becomes suffused with anger, before he finally speaks. “This petition attempts to call into disrepute one of the founding principles of Imperial life, that everyone is responsible for their own lives, actions, and debts. It calls into disrepute the words of the gods and the Imperial Decrees regarding debts to society. It also calls into disrepute my abilities to administer our Empire and to provide relief and resource in times of national emergency.”

There are tears flowing from Arnhilde’s eyes, but she does not flinch from listening to George’s words.

“I find this petition seditious, heretical and offensive. The fact that you are a Master Pilot prevents me in law from having you arrested and cast into slavery for this action. So I must do the only other thing available to me.”

By now Arnhilde is openly crying.

“Guðrún Donner, you are hereby banished from all Imperial Lands and Realms. If you are found again within any Imperial Realm after midnight tonight, you will be held and handed over to the Guild of Pilots. Your citizenship is revoked.”

“David Erikson. While Guðrún testified that she did not speak to any other while planning this act of rebellion, I find it difficult to believe that you were not aware of its preparation. Therefore, you position as the Advisor on Religious Affairs is suspended pending investigations to determine if you have any culpability in this foul act. I am willing to accept your resignation at this time and will allow you safe passage out of Imperial lands, should you wish to depart. However, if you exercise that option, the babe Svanhlidr may not leave with you until I have ruled on custody, as she is also the daughter of a senior and influential Imperial military officer. Your other children may leave with you, or may remain in Casablanca where they will become wards of the state.”

“This is a sad day. Guðrún, you have taken my friendship and succour and tried to stuff it up my arse with barbs on. Get ye hence, or I will see you dead.”

Arnhilde rises. “Child, you have failed your ancestors. You are not a daughter of Óðinn the Allfather. His fire does not burn in you, and I cast you out.” As Arnhilde says this there is a discernible mystical glow around her, and her voice seems larger and deeper than normal.

Gudrun rises, white with shock, tears on her face, “In the light of Truth and with the Light as my witness, I publicly declare that David Erikson had no notion of my intentions here today. He is blameless of my actions. It is not possible for me to lie in this context as your own truth seers will attest.”

George looks at an attending priest of Truth, who nods.

“It cannot be possible for me to hold Guild membership from an Aurellian God, or the powers connected with it, if I have offended so greatly. I therefore will simplify matters for you. I renounce my membership in the Guild of Pilots effective immediately.”

“We will have answer from the Guild of Pilots within the hour as to whether this is accepted. I will wait until then.” George says. Darla immediately departs from Court to run that errand.

“That my family has no use for me, and can find my desire for the freedom of children to be sedition…grieves me even more deeply than being cast aside. I grieve for you mother of my heart and for our family. ”

She returns her gaze to George, “My friendship and love has ever been yours, foster father, my loyalty as well. I have proven it before, I prove it now. I will not run. I have no home but this, and should it be no home, I will dwell no where else. My life has always belonged to my family, it has no value else. If you wish my death, order it. I will not stir from this place or flinch from the sword. If you see treason in my love of these children, take my life here before all.” She returns to her knees. This time there is a quiet, sad dignity and resolve. She does not lower her eyes or hide her grief.

“I do not wish your death. But if you still call this realm your home then you have placed yourself into its debt. If the Guild accepts your resignation, then I order that you be enslaved for a period of 100 years. During that time, you will learn that we already do not enslave children who do not deserve it. Being a ward of the state is not slavery. We simply do not fool ourselves as to the point at which a person is grown up.”

“But one thing is certain. While most children are innocent, not all are. And for those who of their own volition undertake the actions of adults, then so must come the penalty of adults. We never take their innocence from them, but if they have already thrown it away, then they cannot lose it a second time.”

Darla didn’t need to go far. She returns almost immediately with a girl wearing a black catsuit which goes right up her neck and would hide whether she wore a collar or not, and on which the only other adornment is Grand Pilot wings that appear etched onto the material over her left breast.

“I am the Contessa Kirsty Aberford, and I am the right hand of the Guild Secretary Geoffrey Aberford, head of all External Guild activities. I am here to testify that while the Guild accepts the resignation of Guðrún Donner, this situation is most unusual, and in order to ensure the validity of her resignation, we must take her before the Divine Alastyr himself, so that the abilities of a Pilot can be stripped from her. We shall petition that at the same time, talent will be blocked, such that once enslaved, she cannot bring further debt upon herself by undertaking illegal magical activities.”

“Make it so.” says George, and Kirsty leads Guðrún away.

Hello, everyone.

I have begun pilot testing the concept of Multi-Reality Disaster Relief Corps.  This would be a non-aligned group of healers and other disaster relief specialists who could go in (request only) to assist the existing disaster-relief personnel of any reality.  My primary focus will be on the recruitment and training of highly-skilled shadows with a challenge and danger-tropic nature. I am not mostly coming here to recruit, most Cornellians don’t have the luxury of much time for one-individual-at-a-time worldsaving.

Some of the things I need for this:

*  material and financial support

*  diplomatic assistance – I now have precedent for working with two realms, I would like to establish credibility  with as many as possible.

*  a discussion of the a) reasons why this is a bad idea, and b) the ways it could go wrong, so I can attempt to fireproof the personnel from those risks as much as possible.  Problem solving of those issues is also welcome.

So, let me know what you all think.

In case anyone is interested, I have leads on paperbased microscope technology which can be used anywhere lenses and Earth-style watch batteries work:

Rebma watchers have been keenly following the advance of the Justiciar’s forces into the decaying ruins of the city of Rebma, as the so called ‘Rebma effect’ seemed to be contracting inwards throughout the campaign.

This reached a culmination today, as the Justiciar advanced to the Palace of Rebma, only to be inundated in the huge mass of detritus which has been hanging above the city for years, held up by Rebman Sorcery, after Amber’s policy of dumping its refuse down onto Rebma had continued unabated for at least a decade.

Most of the Justiciar’s own forces had already quit the field, ordered back by Justiciar Duke Harvey, recently returned to the campaign, and Justiciar Countess Lucinda. The stalwart few who were with Osric when the roof fell in on the city were Justiciar Countess Dhalia, Duchess Callista of Rebma, and Lady Savannah of Rebma. Their whereabouts are not known at this time.

In the final analysis, this conflict has to go down as a defeat for Osric. He has gained no territory except a now uninhabitable pile of detritus, at an ocean floor depth of 30,000 feet. He has also captured no murderesses, and brought no guilty parties to justice. The so called accused either managed a skillful vanishing act from right under his nose, or have also choked in a ritual suicide by effluent and pressure. This particular reviewer, while accepting that practices in Rebma may well have been brutal and barbaric, nevertheless is not of the view that they would all have fallen on their metaphorical swords. Wherever they are, they will have survived, and if Osric and his supporters managed to get out alive, then it is clear that what they are smelling of is definitely not roses.

Viscount Charles Wellesley, on site correspondent with the forces of Justice in Rebma.