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It seems as though there is a rotation regarding the detail of her escort so that, on the sixth day, it is Moldon who once again arrives in the morning to watch Alysa as she goes for her morning stroll and basks in the sun in the gardens.

Everything is very neat and orderly, as Alysa might well expect. It can be rather restrictive at times but, for the moment, it is better than her previous alternative.

As usual, Moldon is wearing his robes over his armor, his small hammer at his side. Unlike the other two justices who were assigned to watch over her, Moldon smiles amicably as he accompanies Alysa.

'You are mending well, my child,' he says, using the affectionate term which he applies to everyone younger than himself which, from what Alysa has seen, would be most of the inhabitants or visitors to the shrine.

Alysa nods and turns to him, the end of her plaited hair twirled between her fingertips as he speaks. "Moldon, I know that you said we would not speak of things until I was well again, but there is something I must say once again". She looks around, content to hold her discussion while the sun warms her skin once again, wondering if she will ever fully regain her strength.

"I want to help, in fact you might say that I feel I must" she almost whispers before she finds her voice "to bring Mira and her companions to justice, to make them pay for their crimes, not just against me but against those who did not survive their cruelty. Moldon, I have never been more certain of anything in my life until now, this is what I must do. To redeem myself perhaps, for even the most lost among us can be called to great deeds should the need arise. Please, help me once again, allow me one last chance to prove myself in the eyes of the lawgivers, let me hunt the monsters". Her words are pleading but her voice is cold as ice, no trace of emotion that could be used to refute her words or diminish her resolve.

"I know my weapons alone will be no match for them, but I am willing to learn, to train and prepare until I am ready" she takes a deep breath, about to speak the words she never thought would willingly cross her lips again "allow me to be the hand of justice in this matter, I will gladly pledge myself into service once again to rid Angalon of this curse".

Moldon appears impressed by her plea and nods thoughtfully.

'If you are willing to put aside all personal ambition and need for vengeance and embrace the fullness of the law, to become a harbinger of justice and order, then I can surely assist you. Whatever crimes you have committed, my child, surely you can make amends for them in service of the law.'

He smiles gently. 'Yet this is not any simple or small undertaking. The wrongs done to you must be redressed but it must be done in accordance with the law. I cannot condone any personal crusade that is done in the name of revenge. Justice is the currency of the law. If you desire to pledge yourself to service, then I am willing to aid you in any way I can.'

Sighing heavily, Moldon turns away. They are standing among the thicket of rose bushes, the air buzzing with the humming of hundreds of bees that dwell in the shrine apiary. 'This may come as a surprise to you, Mistress Damora, but I must counsel you to give it some thought. As much as I believe in the sanctity and dignity of the law, it requires devotion and personal sacrifice. You cannot let it become about your own ambitions. Pride leads to downfall.

He shakes his head slightly. 'Do not think I dismiss your pleas, my child. I only suggest you give them further contemplation before you decide to set aside your own desires. I would rather someone serve with a full heart and willingly than be compelled to do so against their whim.'

This may indicate why Moldon holds a rather low rank in the hierarchy. Disapproval of any policies, even questionable ones such as compulsory enslavement, would not warrant him much admiration from his superiors.

"Then I shall do as you say and consider it, but I see no other way" she says after his words have faded between them. "I shall consider my motives and my options carefully, though I know that my crimes may take any choice I have in the matter from me". She tosses her hair back, letting the thick braid hang down her back. "For the moment though I shall focus on gaining back my strength for I am no good to anyone if I cannot hold a sword, I must be able to walk before I can run to use an old analogy".

"The sun is nice though, I did not realize how much I missed it until it was no longer there I suppose" she says wistfully, her blue eyes drifting over to watch the flitting bees. It seems strange to see life here after so much horror, but as she learned long ago the universe is clockwork, everything moves forward and for there to be places of light such as this there must also be places of darkness like Redclyffe. But somehow to Alysa it doesn't seem right anymore.

'It is indeed,' Moldon agrees, smiling upward at the heavens, the bright sun shining in the blue cloudless skies of a pleasant spring morning.

After another sumptuous but simple breakfast, Alysa is guided back to her room where she has been provided with books to read, though most of these are religious texts regarding the hallowed order of law in Angalon. It is a very structured philosophy without any official name other than the Clergy of Angalon and the Queen herself is considered the highest authority. if nothing else, it shall permit Alysa to develop a greater understanding of the organization to which she had been so fervent to pledge herself.

Aside from her thrice daily walks, which allows opportunity for Alysa to eat, obtain reading materials from the library and generally enjoy some fresh air, she is mostly confined to her quarters. At first, this may not seem especially oppressive given her recent ordeal but it might wear thin after a week.

With a lack of anything else to do Alysa pours over the books, studying everything she could in order to help make her decision easier. She cannot help but notice the distinct absence of the man she saw at Redclyffe, the one she can only assume brought her here. She also cannot help but wonder if there is some way to exact revenge on Mira and her cohorts without involving the lawgivers and without surrendering her free will and her ability to decide the path of her own life.

She had read most of these books as a child or rather variations upon them as the lawgivers prepared her for the career they had chosen for her, but now she poured over them like they were the only things that mattered, looking for some way to achieve both what she wanted and at the same time what she so desperately needed to do.

She begins to grow bored of her confinement, but finds comfort in the fact that at least here she is more or less free. No one here attempts to control her mind, there is light and she is not in danger of losing both her soul and her life at every turn.

A cage is still a cage, regardless of how comfortable it is made and Alysa is not fond of incarceration. Had she not confessed her crimes to Moldon, it is possible they might have released her by now. Throughout her duration as a guest of the shrine, Moldon has inquired many times of the events that transpired at Redclyffe but never about the death of Jothan. That, he assured Alysa, could wait. He pressed her instead for details about the horrors she experienced during her time as a prisoner of Mira Armonde but he reveals very little himself. At first, it seems he is being evasive but, over time, Alysa may realize that the lawgiver actually knows less about the situation than she does. He never mentions the word 'vampir' or 'ghoul' and speaks about corruption from the Frightlands and the Horogoth.

Likewise, Alysa cannot find any texts or tomes in the rather impressive library that mention any of the folk legends related to such creatures, let alone any hallowed treatises on how best to deal with them. It is almost as if they only exist by word of mouth and that written records of them have either not been kept or been purposefully expunged.

There are others in the shrine Alysa could approach, of course, though she is seldom allowed the opportunity to interact with anyone save the kitchen staff, all of whom are rather friendly, and the library attendants, most of whom are young female cantors who are rather new to the service of the law.

Alysa might already be figuring out that the reason she has not been released has more to do with what she knows than about any crime she might have committed in the past. Perhaps they think that Alysa holds the key to defeating these creatures or perhaps the lawgivers have a more sinister motive than they are letting on.

If she was in a more rational state she would find that difficult to believe, but it seems her experiences have left some mark on her. She fears that the lawgivers are keeping her here until she recovers her strength in order to use her as bait for the vampirs. She knows she cannot outright ask Moldon if this is the case and perhaps she will have to ply him a little to find out the truth.

She has kept her hair in its battle plait since their discussion, only letting it down to brush her fingers through it and keep it neat. Although when she releases the tie that holds it she finds that as in the past, her soft golden locks fall in shimmering waves rather than hanging as they normally do. She notices this as she runs her fingers through it and it brings a smile to her face, memories of the time before Mira and yet after the painful memories of Damora help her build her resolve. The resolve to survive whatever stands before her, to find a way to exact her vengeance on those that held her captive, who attempted to steal her life and perhaps, if the lawgivers are right in their thinking, her very soul.

It is these thoughts that she dwells on as she sits on the edge of her cot, remaking the tight braid for what must be the tenth time this week, basking in the quiet that surrounds her. The memories of Redclyffe almost seem far away for the quiet here is different than the sickly stillness that permeated the manor, she can hear footsteps outside her door and occasionally a bird's musical call floats through the air, bringing a smile to her face once again.

If there some kind of clandestine agenda, it is well hidden. Lawgivers, and especially oathkeepers, are not known for their subtlety. On the contrary, their ethos practically demands they make their intentions, for good or ill, known to all. It is one of their vulnerabilities but also their strength. Consistency creates stability and, in the wake of the Horogoth invasion, this is what the populace craved. Small wonder then that the Clergy of Angalon became the primary faith in the realm. It not only serves to support and bolster the monarchy but it provides for the common defense and welfare of the people. This is not to say that there has not been some corruption or abuse of this authority. However, such instances are rare

.

Given her recent trials, Alysa may not be blamed for being suspicious, even paranoid. Yet if she recalls her previous reeducation, her mentor Drevard had never been cruel or harsh. If anything, she had more trouble dealing with her fellow reprobates.

It is peaceful here and as close to safety as she might find but it is unrelenting and stifling. The windows of her room are merely slits that permit much light but little else and she cannot open her door, even when it is unlocked, without one of the many shrine sentinels, in their gleaming polished armor and black and white tabards, asking Alysa if she requires any assistance.

For bathing and other sanitary needs, she is permitted to use the cleansing chambers, which consist of rows of stalls with both chamberpots and basins for washing. She shall notice that nudity is strictly prohibited, even among the same sex, and the men and women bathe at different intervals. They are expected to bring a change of clothes, disrobe, bathe and then dress themselves all within the confines of the cells. Naturally, there are not any windows. Ventilation is achieved by vents in the ceiling that are so small that nothing larger than a rat could manage passage. The prison in which Alysa had spent many cumulative weeks awaiting various trials for petty theft and other crimes had been less secure than this shrine.