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Justice Khane may be more demonstrative of her dislike but Justice Ferrard is just as disdainful except that he displays his annoyance with his assignment by being as obtuse as possible. He ignores all but the most basic of questions or request and simply stares at Alysa in stony silence when she makes an attempt to glean more information from him. Initially, it seems he is just being difficult but by the second day she is forced to spend with him, she realizes he is hoping that Alysa shall misbehave and give him a reason to retaliate. In his eyes, Alysa can see he is itching to have a good excuse to punish her.

This confirms what Arno, Grabem and Coyle, three of the pentinents and former beggars who work in the dining hall, had told Alysa about Nils Ferrard; that he had been demoted for being unreasonably physical with recalcitrant prisoners, especially females.

Furthermore, Ferrard himself had spent time in reeducation due to reportedly having wicked thoughts that had been detected by an Oathkeeper. As yet, Alysa has not noticed any of those enforcers of the law in the shrine but then she might have crossed paths with one and mistaken them for a lawgiver. The only real difference in appearance is that Oathkeepers tend to be younger on average and wear heavier armor or carry more lethal weapons. Like with the lawgivers, however, personal glory is not among their pursuits and they must return the greater portion of any earnings or acquired wealth to the clergy. They truly represent the selflessness and righteousness of the law they serve.

Alysa merely tolerates the presence of Ferrand and Khane, finding them a rather challenging diversion from Moldon and the advice he had given her. Though if she had her way about it she would have been long gone from this place on the heels of Captain Brawne and whatever his plan to hunt Mira was.

This place and the lawgivers were beginning to grate on her nerves, the lack of her freedom and the seemingly endless routine were making her feel trapped again and the distinction between her captivity here and her ordeal at Redclyffe was becoming blurred.

The only escape she truly had were her own thoughts, for thankfully in the absence of oathkeepers, they were silent and they were her own. She still poured over the books she was given though not as ravenously as she had previously, merely using them as another form of distraction from the unending routine of her life here.

Yet it is not Justice Khane who comes to collect Alysa for the midday meal but rather Justice Moldon. He unlocks her door and bids her to follow him.

'I have interesting news about your case,' he says in a mysterious, neutral tone. 'I shall tell you more as we fill our bellies!'

Many have gathered in the dining hall, seated together at the long tables, as all are served fresh fruit from the orchards, bread baked in the kitchen ovens with butter and honey and pitchers of sweetwater, a concoction of sugar, some kind of citrus juice and water. A great wheel of cheese, also prepared at the shrine, is shared by all, passed along the tables as wedges are cut away.

'I received word from Lamorak about the incident of which you spoke of in the village of Brokenspoke. I believe you told me that you killed your partner, a fellow Stalker named Jothan?' Moldon is watching Alysa intently as he dabs scraps of bread in the honey on his plate and sips from his glass of sweetwater.

Alysa gulps as Moldon speaks but follows him anyway, certain that if the news was bad he would have told her more privately. As she settles across the table from him with her own food she smiles bravely, though it would be obvious she is merely pushing her food around on her plate.

"Yes" is all she says, taking a sip from her own cup of the citrus drink. This is the news she has been waiting for and now that the moment is here she isn't so sure she wants to hear it after all. "I take it the news is not in my favour then?" She thinks back to her meeting with Brawne that morning and wishes she'd been able to say more to him, for at the moment the sword above her head seems poised to drop.

'To be honest, Mistress Damora,' Justice Moldon replies, 'I am somewhat disconcerted that you deceived me. As it happens, you were wanted for questioning concerning the death of your partner but in the months since his murder, the Oathkeeper charged with the investigation visited Brokenspoke and found that more than one of the villagers there claimed to have killed him themselves and, what's more, they all displayed sufficient detectable murderous intent! So it seems that, for the last few months anyway, you've been completely exhonerated for the crime to which you confessed. Now, by all rights, you should still face trial for it, as that is the dictate of the law, but I have consulted High Justice Assface and he suggests that your sentence be suspended for the moment and that you make proper recompense at a later date. That is to say, Mistress Damora, that you either need to provide some services on behalf of the Queen and her country or you can give a donation to the clergy.

'I did impress upon him the suffering you endured at Redclyffe and suggested that it was perhaps the scales balancing your act of murder. There is not any need to hold you any further, Mistress Damora. You are free to leave this House of Law. If you remain, you shall be expected to participate in some kind of craft or profession that benefits the shrine.'

Alysa feels as though a weight has been lifted off her shoulders, it seems the blade has fallen, but it was never over her head to begin with. It seems the only one who will ever know what truly happened that night is her and she intends to keep it that way.

"You're serious?" she smiles almost ecstatically and drains her cup. As far as she is concerned she will be out of here as soon as it is prudent. "So all this time..." she can hardly believe it, she'd been carrying around fear that she hadn't needed to.

She finally manages to take a bite of the food on her plate, "thank you Moldon, you do not know how much better I feel now. Thank you for everything you've done for me, once I have found some way to support myself once again, I shall make a donation as you said".

'So it seems,' Moldon nods, nibbling on some of the tangy cheese. 'Though that does not absolve your guilt or negate your confession. You shall still need to make amends. It seems that the deceased was an orphan and thus without any family so the reparations for your trespass would go to the clergy. Aside from that, I can only admonish you to live a lawful and ordered life and be a productive member of society.'

He grunts unpleasantly as he reaches into a pocket secreted into his robes and removes a folded piece of paper. 'That would mean avoiding these kinds of invitations, Mistress Damora, but as I, unlike some of my contemporaries, believe in the sanctity of free will, I shall leave the choice up to you.'

The note reads simply: WRONGSIDE TAVERN. ASK FOR MADAME ARCHEL -R.B.

Alysa can't help but smile as she unfolds the paper, it seems her mysterious visitor has something more to say. Her blue eyes sparkle with curiosity, a bad sign for anyone who knows her nature, though this time she will proceed far more carefully than in the past.

"I will keep your advice in mind Moldon, but what harm can an invitation be?" she asks, the peice of paper clutched in her hand. "Forgive me my friend you have been a comfort to me during my time here, but we both know that I am not cut out for life here and it seems I have somewhere to be" she grins mischievously across the table "unless there is something further you would like to say on the matter?"

Justice Moldon shakes his head slowly, wearily, and favors Alysa with a very solemn gaze.

'Just be aware, Mistress Damora, that the misfortune you experienced can happen again if you live a life without order. Stay on the path of the righteous and avail yourself of the good and proper ways. Chaos begets chaos, Mistress Damora. Avoid those by whom the rule of law is mocked. Behave yourself.'

He raises his glass but his face remains rigid and stern. 'Safe travel to you, Alysandra of Damora. I shall have one of the cantors escort you to the gates.'

Gesturing to one of the very young women, barely older than children, who are dressed from head to foot in a flowing white cassock and cowl that covers all but their faces, their hands and their slippered feet, Justice Moldon commands the girl to take Alysa to the gate and advise the sentinels that she has permission of the High Justice to depart.

The cantor obediently bows her head and turns her wide eyes upon Alysa. 'This way, mistress,' she says softly.

Alysa bows as she turns to follow the young woman. "Goodbye Moldon, try not to cause too much trouble" she teases, slipping the piece of paper into her pocket. On some level she is sad to be leaving for she knows that she was safe here, but she cannot escape the burning curiosity about her rescuer and the chance that he will be able to help her.

For some reason Alysa finds herself contemplating the idea of releasing her golden hair from its braid, but a voice in her mind says to do so would be to turn her back on her vow. She is as much a warrior now as when she was a stalker and she must always be ready for battle.

She cannot wait to find out what Robur has to say, finally able to speak without someone hanging over her shoulder. But the most important part is that she is truly free now, no one is hunting her, no need to hide in the shadows anymore and the feeling is wonderful.

The cantor, who does not give her name, quietly and efficiently leads Alysa from the dining hall, through the main corridor that connects the various chambers of the shrine and finally to the entrance. She ascends the stairs gracefully and approaches one of the four white armored figures with stony faces who stand flanking the open gate. Alysa could easily just slip through it as there are people constantly coming or going but perhaps it is better she not test the reflexes of the sentinels at this point.

Once the cantor explains the situation to one of the sentinels, all of whom are dressed identically, their individual faces the only way to tell them apart, the heavily armored man nods at the cantor. The young girl faces Alysa and bows her head. 'Safe journey to you, mistress.'

Then, as she begins to ascend the stairs, the sentinel points with his ornate ivory and steel spear towards the gate.

'You may go, mistress,' he grunts, his tone devoid of any warmth or coolness, being perfectly neutral.

Alysa nods her head to the sentinel and walks off towards the gate. She knows that asking him where she is heading would probably not get her an answer and decides she will be better off asking someone in town. She has not felt this free in a very long time and it feels wonderful. The sun somehow feels warmer on her skin and she knows that even if Robur cannot give her what she wants, there are plenty of places for her to make a new start and work on her goal. One day she will inflict upon Mira Armonde the horror and pain that she has felt, only unlike Alysa, Mira will not live to tell the tale.

She surely knows that this is one of the reasons she is not well suited for life in the shrine or as a stalker, she has no desire to hand over her quarry to another. Justice is flawed and if what she knows of Mira is true, she will easily escape its clutches again. But Alysa Damora is coming for her, whether she knows it or not and justice will be served. A smile spreads across the bandit's face as she allows the thought to consume her. If Robur Brawne is the man she believes he is then she will be happy to throw her sword in the ring to help him hunt down Mira and any others of her kind that haunt the dark corners of Angalon.