In the Name of Justice: Chapter I
It took time, but we're finally here. I am so happy to be posting the first three chapters of In the Name of Justice, completely rewritten and revamped (hah). I've been wanting to get back into D's Vampire Story for a while, especially with the band releasing new material, adding more characters and generally complicating what I'm sure was once a nice straight story. A bit like Kingdom Hearts: nobody knows what the hell is going on anymore, but damn is it a cool ride.
The story is still the same at its core, but I've changed a lot of scenes, so if you're new here, I'd HIGHLY recommend reading either one story or the other (read this one - it's tonnes better). Most importantly, I'd like to think my writing style has evolved in the seven years since I finished ItnoJ, so while I may not be on Scott Lynch or Joe Abercrombie's level yet, at least I've moved past the fluffy angst I used to produce as a 16 year-old. Each old chapter will be linked.
Finally, I made an AO3 and will be publishing chapters on there alongside LiveJournal, since I'm pretty sure nobody is even active on here nowadays.
If you like the story, leave a comment! It means a lot to know people are out there reading along.
Link to old Prologue | Link to old Chapter I
Chapter I
Mistake
It was the beginning of a fresh night, and a lone figure welcomed it from the darkness.
Dreizehn Schwarzschild stood on the steps of his castle, beneath the arch of the doorway sculpted with roses and vines. For twelve years, he'd started each evening this way, watching the moon as it rose, feeling the breeze against his face. It had become a ritual to him.
He breathed in the warm summer air and slowly exhaled. Behind him, footsteps pounded on stone.
“Your Highness.”
Dreizehn turned to see his servant, Kranz, come to a stop in the hall before him. He gave a short bow before lifting his eyes and studying the king as if he were a ghost.
“Your Highness,” said Kranz again, his breaths still heavy from running. “It's the gardener. He said you were outside this morning, that you'd stepped into the sun...”
---
Three harsh knocks sounded against the door.
Sitting at his table, the man paused what he was doing and looked up. He stared at the door for a few seconds, running his eyes over the series of latches and chains that guarded him against the outside world. Very rarely did he ever have visitors. Rarer still were those who visited him after dark.
The knocks came again. Slowly, the man stood up and walked over to the door. He unlocked all but a single chain and pushed open the door, revealing a lone figure.
The figure smiled. “Hello, Justice.”
The man felt his eyes widen in their sockets. Out of all the people Justice had expected to see on his doorstep, Julius Arrek was among the least likely. His skin was a little more weathered, the crows' feet in the corners of his eyes more pronounced, and grey strands had begun to appear in the tight brown curls of his hair, but there was no mistaking the old friend before him.
“You look a little shocked. Have I caught you at a bad time?”
Justice had to force the words out. “No, of course not. Give me a moment.”
He closed the door, using the moment alone to regain his composure. Then he undid the chain and opened the door wide again, allowing Julius to cross the threshold into his home.
“I like it. Sweet and simple,” said Julius, looking around the small, square room that made up Justice's living space. It wasn't much: a single bed pushed into the corner, a hearth with a hanging pot, round table and chairs in the middle. From the rafters hung braids of garlic, onions and herbs, along with a brace of pheasants that, from the smell of them, were well past being fit for consumption.
“Might want to sort those out,” said Julius, pointing at the pheasants as he sat himself down at the table.
“I'm drying them out,” Justice mumbled, taking the seat opposite. He cleared away the boot whose sole he'd been sewing back together under the table, leaving the space between them clear except for a bowl of fresh apples and a plate of burning candles that ranged from fresh to stubs.
“Right.” Julius repositioned himself in the wooden chair. He was by no means a heavyset man - if anything, he'd grown thin in the years since Justice had last seen him - but the light armour he was wearing looked uncomfortable enough that he probably had to keep moving every few minutes just to bear it. Justice wondered what had possessed him to wear armour to visit him. Did he think he was going to attack him?
The silence expanded between them like a miasma, the low light flickering across their faces, until finally Julius said, “You know why I'm here, don't you?”
“I can honestly say that I don't know why you've turned up at my door after eight years, no,” said Justice, not bothering to hold back his sarcasm.
“Seven years, three months and eleven days, to be exact. I counted this morning.” Julius flashed him a proud smile. “Not much else to do on the road.”
Justice remained still. Seeing Julius in front of him felt like he'd invited a ghost into his house. Nothing good would come of this. He could sense himself growing more uncomfortable by the second, his hands balled into fists under the table. He was a tall man, with a slim, youthful face, wide shoulders and a few days' worth of dark stubble he'd planned to shave off before his visitor came along. His shoulder-length black hair was tied into a low ponytail and his outfit of a forest green tunic, trousers and boots rivalled his house for its lack of embellishment or flair.
Bored of waiting for Justice to take the bait, Julius sighed. “All right. Since I have other places to be and you're clearly not in a talking mood, I'll keep it short. My presence here is a warning.”
That made Justice perk up. He stared at Julius as he went on: “Last week, a Vokuller spy came to King Monrey's court with news. Apparently, a village in northern Marthiel had been up in arms after someone found a sword in the forest nearby. Opal hilt, silver blade, and it couldn't be removed from the ground it had been planted in. You can imagine it caused quite a stir.”
Justice's breath hitched. “Are you saying that a villager found the Schwarzschild Sword by accident?”
“I believe so. The spy believed so, too. He spent the whole night on the villager, but he wouldn't tell him where it was hidden. In the end, he grew so frustrated he razed the whole village to the ground to stop the secret from getting out.” There was a hint of delight in Julius' voice that gave Justice the impression he enjoyed relaying that part.
“So, your man destroyed a whole village and thought that would draw attention away from the secret, not towards it?”
Julius shrugged. “People are clumsy. Wooden houses catch fire. You know how accidents happen. But Justice, you need to understand.” He leaned forward in his chair, his voice taking on a darker, more serious tone. “Now that he has some sort of radius, King Monrey is sending an elite group to search the area around the village for the sword. I mean really search it. He'll tear down every tree if he has to.”
“Over a legend?”
Julius stared across the table. “You know as well as I do that not all legends are untrue. You are living proof of that, my friend.” He paused, as if deliberating whether or not to continue. Finally, he said, “There's another thing. He knows about you.”
Justice felt like a lump was blocking his throat. “You told them where I live,” was all he could whisper.
“I had to. My loyalty to the royal family is absolute, but I knew it would eat me up forever if I didn't at least warn you of what was what to come. I owe you that much.”
Justice snorted humourlessly. How like Julius to put himself first, even when it wasn't his life on the line.
Reaching into his pocket, Julius dumped a weighty bag of coins onto the table. “Leave Marthiel. Go tonight. You have time before the sun rises.”
Justice couldn't believe what he was hearing. The suddenness of all this news was too much for him to handle. It was as if a mist had descended onto his head. “You expect me to just give up everything I have and leave the country?”
“If you give a damn about your life, you will.”
“And if I refuse?”
Julius shook his head. “I don't think you understand. These people Monrey has gathered... they aren't human.”
The light dancing across their skin faltered a little as one of the candle stubs burnt out. Justice stood up, fetched a replacement from the mantle above the hearth, lit it from one of the others and pressed it down into the bed of hot wax until it could stand alone. It was a small diversion that allowed him to consider what those words meant.
“Supposing I did leave,” said Justice slowly, staring into the flames, “would you still come after me?”
Julius paused before answering. “Yes.” Then he added, “But the sword is the main priority. I can't see King Monrey pursuing you for long, providing you remove yourself from the picture by exile or... other means.”
Other means. People would drop every euphemism in the book before mentioning death.
Justice passed his finger over the top of one of the flames again and again, daring himself to see how close he could get without burning himself. “You told them where I live.” His voice was ice.
In one move, Justice leapt to his feet and lunged across the table, scattering the candles and apples and breaking the plate. He didn't know what he was going to do: punch Julius, or perhaps choke the life out of him a little bit. All he knew was that he wanted to see this man hurt. His fingers turned into claws, his nails ready to sink into soft flesh.
They never found their destination. A bolt of pain flashed up Justice's right arm as he realised he was suddenly on the table. He stared incredulously at the dagger wedged in the fleshy area between his thumb and second finger, pinning him to the surface like a butterfly to a collector's board.
Julius was on his feet. There was no triumph in his face, just pity. His breaths came quickly with the shock of the unexpected attack. It had all been over in a second.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked to the door.
Before leaving, Julius turned and said in a low voice, “There are forces at work even you can't fight, Justice. Take my advice and leave. Consider it my final gesture as a friend.”
Justice wanted to say something back, but he knew that the moment he opened his mouth, he'd succumb to the pain. Julius seemed to understand, as he shot him one last look of pity. The door drifted shut.
Now alone, Justice finally allowed himself to breathe. The anger inside him had boiled away, leaving cold emptiness behind.
With his free hand, he gripped the weapon and pulled, but it was to little effect. The dagger was lodged too deeply in the wood. He tried again, shaking the handle as he pulled, his face twisting in wordless agony. After a few seconds, he felt the wood's hold on the blade loosen, and he was able to wrench it free, gasping in pain as he did so.
He threw the dagger to the floor and held up his bloody hand. Already the wound had begun to heal over, flesh and skin knitting back together like a flame melting candle wax. The pain, too, was receding fast. Within a couple of minutes, all traces of the stab wound had disappeared completely.
The dagger lay on the floor near the hearth among the scattered plate shards, fruit and candles. Most of the latter had gone out as they'd been knocked from the table, the few that were still lit casting eerie shadows across the small room. The plate had shattered into several pieces.
Once he'd cleared up and snuffed out all the candles but one, Justice walked over to the cabin's single window and pulled back the heavy curtain. The window gave him a view of his tiny vegetable garden and the low wall that ringed his cabin, before the land sloped downwards into the valley and the dirt trail became lost in a forest of birch and ash. He scoured the landscape, looking for movement, his eyes picking up shapes and shadows far better than any human eyes would have been able to. High up in a tree, a roosting wood pigeon ruffled its feathers as it slept, but apart from that, the forest was still. Julius was gone.
It was the same view he'd looked out upon every night for the last several years, and while on the surface nothing had changed, he knew deep down that the world as he had come to know it had been ripped in two.
Next chapter→
The story is still the same at its core, but I've changed a lot of scenes, so if you're new here, I'd HIGHLY recommend reading either one story or the other (read this one - it's tonnes better). Most importantly, I'd like to think my writing style has evolved in the seven years since I finished ItnoJ, so while I may not be on Scott Lynch or Joe Abercrombie's level yet, at least I've moved past the fluffy angst I used to produce as a 16 year-old. Each old chapter will be linked.
Finally, I made an AO3 and will be publishing chapters on there alongside LiveJournal, since I'm pretty sure nobody is even active on here nowadays.
If you like the story, leave a comment! It means a lot to know people are out there reading along.
Link to old Prologue | Link to old Chapter I
Chapter I
Mistake
It was the beginning of a fresh night, and a lone figure welcomed it from the darkness.
Dreizehn Schwarzschild stood on the steps of his castle, beneath the arch of the doorway sculpted with roses and vines. For twelve years, he'd started each evening this way, watching the moon as it rose, feeling the breeze against his face. It had become a ritual to him.
He breathed in the warm summer air and slowly exhaled. Behind him, footsteps pounded on stone.
“Your Highness.”
Dreizehn turned to see his servant, Kranz, come to a stop in the hall before him. He gave a short bow before lifting his eyes and studying the king as if he were a ghost.
“Your Highness,” said Kranz again, his breaths still heavy from running. “It's the gardener. He said you were outside this morning, that you'd stepped into the sun...”
---
Three harsh knocks sounded against the door.
Sitting at his table, the man paused what he was doing and looked up. He stared at the door for a few seconds, running his eyes over the series of latches and chains that guarded him against the outside world. Very rarely did he ever have visitors. Rarer still were those who visited him after dark.
The knocks came again. Slowly, the man stood up and walked over to the door. He unlocked all but a single chain and pushed open the door, revealing a lone figure.
The figure smiled. “Hello, Justice.”
The man felt his eyes widen in their sockets. Out of all the people Justice had expected to see on his doorstep, Julius Arrek was among the least likely. His skin was a little more weathered, the crows' feet in the corners of his eyes more pronounced, and grey strands had begun to appear in the tight brown curls of his hair, but there was no mistaking the old friend before him.
“You look a little shocked. Have I caught you at a bad time?”
Justice had to force the words out. “No, of course not. Give me a moment.”
He closed the door, using the moment alone to regain his composure. Then he undid the chain and opened the door wide again, allowing Julius to cross the threshold into his home.
“I like it. Sweet and simple,” said Julius, looking around the small, square room that made up Justice's living space. It wasn't much: a single bed pushed into the corner, a hearth with a hanging pot, round table and chairs in the middle. From the rafters hung braids of garlic, onions and herbs, along with a brace of pheasants that, from the smell of them, were well past being fit for consumption.
“Might want to sort those out,” said Julius, pointing at the pheasants as he sat himself down at the table.
“I'm drying them out,” Justice mumbled, taking the seat opposite. He cleared away the boot whose sole he'd been sewing back together under the table, leaving the space between them clear except for a bowl of fresh apples and a plate of burning candles that ranged from fresh to stubs.
“Right.” Julius repositioned himself in the wooden chair. He was by no means a heavyset man - if anything, he'd grown thin in the years since Justice had last seen him - but the light armour he was wearing looked uncomfortable enough that he probably had to keep moving every few minutes just to bear it. Justice wondered what had possessed him to wear armour to visit him. Did he think he was going to attack him?
The silence expanded between them like a miasma, the low light flickering across their faces, until finally Julius said, “You know why I'm here, don't you?”
“I can honestly say that I don't know why you've turned up at my door after eight years, no,” said Justice, not bothering to hold back his sarcasm.
“Seven years, three months and eleven days, to be exact. I counted this morning.” Julius flashed him a proud smile. “Not much else to do on the road.”
Justice remained still. Seeing Julius in front of him felt like he'd invited a ghost into his house. Nothing good would come of this. He could sense himself growing more uncomfortable by the second, his hands balled into fists under the table. He was a tall man, with a slim, youthful face, wide shoulders and a few days' worth of dark stubble he'd planned to shave off before his visitor came along. His shoulder-length black hair was tied into a low ponytail and his outfit of a forest green tunic, trousers and boots rivalled his house for its lack of embellishment or flair.
Bored of waiting for Justice to take the bait, Julius sighed. “All right. Since I have other places to be and you're clearly not in a talking mood, I'll keep it short. My presence here is a warning.”
That made Justice perk up. He stared at Julius as he went on: “Last week, a Vokuller spy came to King Monrey's court with news. Apparently, a village in northern Marthiel had been up in arms after someone found a sword in the forest nearby. Opal hilt, silver blade, and it couldn't be removed from the ground it had been planted in. You can imagine it caused quite a stir.”
Justice's breath hitched. “Are you saying that a villager found the Schwarzschild Sword by accident?”
“I believe so. The spy believed so, too. He spent the whole night on the villager, but he wouldn't tell him where it was hidden. In the end, he grew so frustrated he razed the whole village to the ground to stop the secret from getting out.” There was a hint of delight in Julius' voice that gave Justice the impression he enjoyed relaying that part.
“So, your man destroyed a whole village and thought that would draw attention away from the secret, not towards it?”
Julius shrugged. “People are clumsy. Wooden houses catch fire. You know how accidents happen. But Justice, you need to understand.” He leaned forward in his chair, his voice taking on a darker, more serious tone. “Now that he has some sort of radius, King Monrey is sending an elite group to search the area around the village for the sword. I mean really search it. He'll tear down every tree if he has to.”
“Over a legend?”
Julius stared across the table. “You know as well as I do that not all legends are untrue. You are living proof of that, my friend.” He paused, as if deliberating whether or not to continue. Finally, he said, “There's another thing. He knows about you.”
Justice felt like a lump was blocking his throat. “You told them where I live,” was all he could whisper.
“I had to. My loyalty to the royal family is absolute, but I knew it would eat me up forever if I didn't at least warn you of what was what to come. I owe you that much.”
Justice snorted humourlessly. How like Julius to put himself first, even when it wasn't his life on the line.
Reaching into his pocket, Julius dumped a weighty bag of coins onto the table. “Leave Marthiel. Go tonight. You have time before the sun rises.”
Justice couldn't believe what he was hearing. The suddenness of all this news was too much for him to handle. It was as if a mist had descended onto his head. “You expect me to just give up everything I have and leave the country?”
“If you give a damn about your life, you will.”
“And if I refuse?”
Julius shook his head. “I don't think you understand. These people Monrey has gathered... they aren't human.”
The light dancing across their skin faltered a little as one of the candle stubs burnt out. Justice stood up, fetched a replacement from the mantle above the hearth, lit it from one of the others and pressed it down into the bed of hot wax until it could stand alone. It was a small diversion that allowed him to consider what those words meant.
“Supposing I did leave,” said Justice slowly, staring into the flames, “would you still come after me?”
Julius paused before answering. “Yes.” Then he added, “But the sword is the main priority. I can't see King Monrey pursuing you for long, providing you remove yourself from the picture by exile or... other means.”
Other means. People would drop every euphemism in the book before mentioning death.
Justice passed his finger over the top of one of the flames again and again, daring himself to see how close he could get without burning himself. “You told them where I live.” His voice was ice.
In one move, Justice leapt to his feet and lunged across the table, scattering the candles and apples and breaking the plate. He didn't know what he was going to do: punch Julius, or perhaps choke the life out of him a little bit. All he knew was that he wanted to see this man hurt. His fingers turned into claws, his nails ready to sink into soft flesh.
They never found their destination. A bolt of pain flashed up Justice's right arm as he realised he was suddenly on the table. He stared incredulously at the dagger wedged in the fleshy area between his thumb and second finger, pinning him to the surface like a butterfly to a collector's board.
Julius was on his feet. There was no triumph in his face, just pity. His breaths came quickly with the shock of the unexpected attack. It had all been over in a second.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked to the door.
Before leaving, Julius turned and said in a low voice, “There are forces at work even you can't fight, Justice. Take my advice and leave. Consider it my final gesture as a friend.”
Justice wanted to say something back, but he knew that the moment he opened his mouth, he'd succumb to the pain. Julius seemed to understand, as he shot him one last look of pity. The door drifted shut.
Now alone, Justice finally allowed himself to breathe. The anger inside him had boiled away, leaving cold emptiness behind.
With his free hand, he gripped the weapon and pulled, but it was to little effect. The dagger was lodged too deeply in the wood. He tried again, shaking the handle as he pulled, his face twisting in wordless agony. After a few seconds, he felt the wood's hold on the blade loosen, and he was able to wrench it free, gasping in pain as he did so.
He threw the dagger to the floor and held up his bloody hand. Already the wound had begun to heal over, flesh and skin knitting back together like a flame melting candle wax. The pain, too, was receding fast. Within a couple of minutes, all traces of the stab wound had disappeared completely.
The dagger lay on the floor near the hearth among the scattered plate shards, fruit and candles. Most of the latter had gone out as they'd been knocked from the table, the few that were still lit casting eerie shadows across the small room. The plate had shattered into several pieces.
Once he'd cleared up and snuffed out all the candles but one, Justice walked over to the cabin's single window and pulled back the heavy curtain. The window gave him a view of his tiny vegetable garden and the low wall that ringed his cabin, before the land sloped downwards into the valley and the dirt trail became lost in a forest of birch and ash. He scoured the landscape, looking for movement, his eyes picking up shapes and shadows far better than any human eyes would have been able to. High up in a tree, a roosting wood pigeon ruffled its feathers as it slept, but apart from that, the forest was still. Julius was gone.
It was the same view he'd looked out upon every night for the last several years, and while on the surface nothing had changed, he knew deep down that the world as he had come to know it had been ripped in two.
Next chapter→