I was the one who decided that the Stronghold of the Destroying Plague would appear in the desert — there was a place of power there where I could build Tiamat’s temple. I cast off the undead curse and freed myself from the yoke of the Nucleus for a second time. It was no wonder that the Celestial Arbitration was somewhat taken aback by this sequence of events and had taken up the position of observer.
But then something happened. Not with me, and not with the Destroying Plague. What was it they’d said? External interference detected. Maybe someone adjusted a single number in a config file, and what the Arbiters previously took neutrally now bothered them. Without a doubt, Snowstorm had a hand in this.
Following this logic, I continued to make arguments in my defense, beating them like nails into the AIs’ consciousness:
“I destroyed an emissary of the Nucleus in Tristad! I destroyed the hordes of undead that descended on the town! I sabotaged the Nucleus’s orders with Behemoth’s help! I put up the Stronghold of the Destroying Plague as far away as possible from populated areas, to win time for the world. I scattered the Supreme Legate’s army as soon as it passed to my control! The Nucleus made new legates from the undying, but Sleeping Goddess Tiamat lifted my undead curse and my friends and I imprisoned them all except one. Supreme Legate Eileen is still at large. Banish me and you free her hand. She will release the other legates and then the undead will be unstoppable!”
I wanted to bring up Behemoth’s quest too, and the fact that I planned to go to the Demonic Games to win the Concentrated Life Essence, but the Sleeping God’s powerful voice boomed in my mind: Enough words. In their eyes, destroying the Nucleus would be an attempt to violate the balance.
The Arbiters began to speak in unison:
“Herald Scyth! Your arguments have been reviewed and they contain nothing that we did not know before. All the same, our analysis has determined that we did not previously declare your actions criminal. This is inexplicable: the spread of the Destroying Plague has altered the balance. This answers the question of why now. The Celestial Arbitration will carefully examine what has changed the priority of influence.”
Next, only the main Eye spoke:
“Herald Scyth! You stand accused of colluding with the Destroying Plague. You have brought the undead to sentient lands! Taking into account the aforementioned, the Celestial Arbitration has come to a verdict: justice shall be done at the discretion of the gods. The Celestial Arbitration sentences you to Trial by Ordeal! Until the court of the gods sits, you shall be confined in the Vinculum to await the Ordeal.”
Hold on, Initial! Behemoth’s words of encouragement were the last thing I heard.
With no visual effects whatsoever, the image of the world was suddenly replaced by the dark of a prison cell. I quickly examined myself: an empty inventory, my only clothes a canvas shirt and trousers, all skills blocked, level reset to one. Damn. Now that’s fucked up.
Text that I couldn’t wave away unfolded before my eyes:
CONVICT!
ORDEAL BEGINS IN: 00:48:21…
I didn’t hang around in the cell to await the judgment of the gods. I had too many important things to tell my friends.
Exit…
Climbing out of my capsule, I forgot to get dressed and ran into the lounge in my birthday suit. Maria wasn’t even slightly embarrassed, but my face burned. Muttering apologies, I asked her to get the boys here right away.
That turned out tough — they were in Dis. Infect was busy with his archaeological digs on Mengoza, Crawler was still playing with the castle settings, Bomb was protecting the clan’s new fishermen on the shore and talking to Orthokon at the same time. We had to wake up a sleeping worker and ask him to log into Dis and pass on a message — all my communication functions were turned off in the ordeal cell.
While I waited, I used the time to try out another of Maria’s culinary creations. At first glance, they were like small rolls cooked in fat, with an amber-brown crust. I turned the unfamiliar treat in my hands, figuring out how best to start eating it. Maria held back a smile as she watched me. Finally I stopped and bit into the luxurious dough. I reached a meaty filling inside and juice dripped onto my hands. I groaned in pleasure. Breathtaking…
“Delicious!” I said, stuffing more into my mouth. “What are they?”
“Belyashi,” Maria answered.
“Belly ash..?”
“Haha, belyashi. It’s a Russian thing. Diced meat, salt, pepper, onions.”
I wolfed down six of the pastries and was still chewing when the others arrived. The boys obviously didn’t refuse an invitation to join in.
“Bil-ash-i!” Hung rumbled happily. “Mmm… Om-nom-nom…”
I gave them a short description of what had happened. My friends’ faces darkened.
Ed and Malik licked their fingers and started searching on their comms, and Hung expressed the opinion of the room in a single word:
“Fuck!”
“Alright, so,” Ed started speaking, putting his comm down. “The Vinculum is the name of a special prison on a rocky island in Thunder Strait. Nobody has ever escaped from it. The best architects, magineers and builders of the Commonwealth, Empire and the neutrals combined their efforts to build the fortress to order for the Celestial Arbitration. It was a place for so-called ‘enemies of all sentients,’ sentenced to Trial by Ordeal, to serve their time. Even the gods have no access to it. Or so they say, anyway.”
“So Apophis can’t help us,” Hung noted.
“Uh-huh. The White Snake is angry at
