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vision of Hell, but to
Mei, this moment felt more like Heaven.

The Laws of
Man

    E xhausted
from the prior night's events, Gahre would meet no bed. They did
not even offer him food. Their eyes had lit upon the rifle, and
they had demanded it at once. Gahre, still as yet unaware of how
the authorities would interpret his actions, surrendered the rifle
and began to relay his account aloud in public, but the authorities
were having none of that. He was whisked away to a detention room
and questioned repeatedly over the events. After giving his account
to Elder Panthus, then to Sheriff Janker, then to the Ranger
garrison Commander Throjos, and once more to man he knew not at
all, he lost all patience and attempted to set out for a
long-overdue meal and the comfort of his bed. To his utter vexation
the sheriff ordered him legally detained. He knew the two town
deputy officers personally, so when they apologetically approached
him and attempted to grab his arms on either side, he shoved them
off with only half his strength, which was still enough force to
send one sailing into the wall of the detention room with a marked
thud.
    He faced the next man, but there was no
challenge from him. He grunted and strolled out from the detention
room, past the guards in the main hall and out the door into the
midday streets of town in a direct line to Mythor’s
Tavern.
    Gahre was warmly greeted therein. He politely
but firmly dismissed the curious patrons and their queries and took
solitude at a dark corner table. “Lamb,” he ordered, “a full rack.
Salad, bread, water and a pitcher of milk.”
    He sat in to wait, salivating, wanting for his
meal and felt his anger rising. He had been compelled to retell the
events four times over while the tone of their questioning became
ever more accusatory. Had he not just brought them one of the most
wanted criminals in the realms? He never imagined such a reception.
They had attempted to detain him by force, as though there were
more to tell, as though he were a criminal himself. It was
intolerable foolishness, and he fumed over it til the dishes came,
one by one in quick succession. Mythor, the proprietor, delivered
them himself and told Gahre that in light of his brave deed, the
rumors of which had spread like wildfire through the town, he would
dine on the house. Gahre made his best effort to decline and offer
up his coin, but Mathor would have none of it and pressed his
insistence. Gahre, just wishing a fast resolution to the matter,
thanked him and briskly took up his utensils. As he prepared to dig
in, a cacophony of bootsteps thudded their way into the tavern,
made their way through, and surrounded his table before the first
chunk of the hot fatty lamb juice could soak into his tongue. With
no small hint of annoyance, Gahre set down his food and went still,
refusing to look up at them.
    “Begone!” he told them. “I’ve given you a full
and truthful accounting. There is nothing more to it, and I am done
with you.”
    “It is not that simple,” returned the Sheriff.
“You, Gahre Aurori, Son of Danu, have been found, by your own
confession, to be in willful violation of the Law on at least four
counts. We are hereby arresting you on the charges of…”
    Gahre scoffed. “Confession? I gave you no
confession! I gave you testimony detailing the happenings of the
last eve, which resulted in the apprehension of an infamous bandit.
I admit to nothing unlawful or dishonorable on my part, nor am I
willing to hear it.”
    “Stop this nonsense, Sheriff! The boy’s deeds
were noble,” came the voice of a patron Gahre could not quite
identify, followed by more affirmative calls from the other guests
and staff.
    “Be that as it may, this man is in violation
of four counts of felony. His defense may be relayed to the
magistrate, who has been summoned from the capital and should
arrive within the week,” Sheriff Janker bellowed back at them with
all the authority he could muster. “Until then,