Saga Terra: Judge of Stellasolum - Chapter XXIII

XXIII - The Grand Duchy of Otterland

Throughout the night, Judge could hear the screech of the airship’s flight, awakening the morning of the Tenth of Odin, revitalized from yesterday’s experiences. He hoped the new Supreme General of Asgard would fend off the Nidhoggr, and that his loving wife would receive the White Yggdrasil Rune. Whatever the case, he certainly anticipated his visit to the Grand Duchy of Otterland.

Judge got out of bed, rubbed his eyes, stretched, and clothed and armed himself, going to the mess hall for a decent breakfast. Then he headed onto the deck, with the winter breeze immediately blasting onto him, though he did make it to the nearby observation area, meeting the Fleet Admiral and scoping the scenery, which largely consisted of distant seas with many frozen shards, as well as gray-clouded skies.

“Good morning, Admiral!” greeted Judge.

“Good morning, Your Highness, or Judge, or whatever…”

“So, ever been to Britannia before?”

“No, this’ll be my first time there. What about you?”

“It’ll be my first time as well.”

“Excited about getting to Otterland, I take it?”

“Yes. Finally I’ll meet the Savior…”

“If he’s still alive, that is.”

“He wouldn’t die easily; I’m sure he has the White Rune.”

“True. Niflheim would be foolish to invade their country.”

“From what I’ve heard about the Runes, their powers naturally come to their bearers.”

“Hmm…interesting…but that doesn’t make their bearers completely invulnerable, does it?”

“Of course not…only the power of other Runes, though, could defeat a Rune bearer.”

“But I…” began Judge, remembering his encounter with Lord Gogh a few days ago. “Oh, never mind.”

Just then, Judge noticed the skies darken and saw that the seas below grayed. At first, the Prince of Asgard supposed that a storm was coming, but then he realized that this was the milieu of Nidhoggrian territory. A few seconds later, land was visible. Shortly thereafter, the Flying Floran quickly passed beyond a small island, strangely devoid of snow, which further strengthened Judge’s supposition that the vessel had indeed entered Nidhoggrian terrain.

“I think we should fly higher, Admiral,” suggested Judge.

“Why, Judge?”

“I think we’re in the vicinity of the Nidhoggr now.”

“We already were in the dominion of the Nidhoggr land back in Ymir, Judge.”

“But don’t you suppose they have terrain beyond Ymir?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry yet; I’d say we’re in the clear now.”

“Heard of the war between Scotia and its Ymiran colony?”

“I haven’t paid much attention to affairs beyond Flora …”

“Scotia’s controlled by the Nidhoggr! See the barren land?”

As Judge indicated land to the east of the airship, the Fleet Admiral suggested, “You expect lush flora this time of the year?”

“The land is lifeless! Can’t you see there’s no snow?”

“There doesn’t have to be snow everywhere, Judge!”

“Why are you in such denial, Admiral?”

“Why are you worrying so much, Judge? We should get to Otterland near the end of the day, so just relax, will you?”

“Why are you getting so cocky, Admiral? Just because we ravaged the Ymiran Empire doesn’t mean the Nidhoggr are gone!”

“Even if the Nidhoggr do control Scotia, it’s not like we’ll be flying over it all day.”

“But you think we should bomb them just in case?”

“We need to conserve our ammo! This could be one of the only airships in the world, and we can’t expend it all on petty conflicts! Besides, if we waste it all, odds are we won’t get any more for a while…”

“But what if they do destroy this ship and the ammo?”

“Look, Judge, even if this ship is doomed to destruction, we have plenty of insects to evacuate everyone.”

“But who knows how quickly they can kill us? Can’t we at least disguise it as a hurricane or at the very least fly higher?”

“Information travels quickly through the lands of the Nidhoggr; surely they would be familiar with a strange hurricane.”

“What about flying above the clouds?”

“Then we would surely lose our sense of direction. The best we could do is put up a forcefield or something…”

“That isn’t a bad idea. But you think they might chase us?”

“Of course we won’t be without resistance across Scotia. We’ll just have to outmaneuver them. Surely their speed can’t match ours!”

“Never underestimate the Nidhoggr, Admiral.”

“We’ll be ready for them, Judge!”

“I’ll fight too, if necessary.”

“As will I!” assured the Fleet Admiral, drawing her sword.

The first hour of the day had not completely passed by the time the two finished their conversation, and the Flying Floran flew still above the gray seas of Scotia. Once the second hour came, however, Judge saw a strange ray of light coming from a solitary island, whose flora was mysteriously green in spite of the winter and influence of the Nidhoggr. He dared not request that the airship briefly stop there, for he knew that Nidhoggr could possibly lurk there.

Judge quickly forgot about the mysterious island and looked south yet again, seeing endless gray waters. They still loomed well around the airship even after the second hour had elapsed, with the third hour, for the most part, being every bit as silent. Judge then thought that he had perhaps misjudged the Admiral’s plans for flying above Scotia, and that the trip to Otterland would fare smoothly.

Near the end of the third hour, however, Judge noticed land to the east, which he supposed was the Scotian mainland. Mercifully, there didn’t seem to be any vast Nidhoggrian strongholds among the decaying flora or any pursuers. The arrival of the fourth hour marked the disappearance of this terrain, though the airship also flew beyond a great bridge extending from the mainland, around which sailed many ships bearing the Emblem of Niflheim.

As endless dark seas yet again fell below the Flying Floran, the Fleet Admiral stated, “I think we’re in the clear now.”

“Unless the Nidhoggr are pursuing us…” feared Judge.

“Oh, don’t be such a worrywart, Judge!”

“Guess you were right after all…”

“See? Nothing to worry about!”

Fleet Admiral Haroldson, luckily, was right in her judgment, as nothing interfered with the Flying Floran’s travel during the next few hours. The seas still continued even when the afternoon arrived, with Judge and most of the vessel’s crew enjoying lunch, and everyone afterward returning to their posts. The endless seas still vanished not, making Judge suppose the ship was lost in the middle of nowhere.

Seeing land to the south, however, vanquished Judge’s worries once the eighth hour arrived. One of the first sights when the airship reached land again was a long stone bridge extending northeast. However, it appeared not to be a creation at all of the Nidhoggr, but rather a creation of the free peoples of Terra, as the deer supposed by the territory’s transformation, relieving him more.

Judge could immediately see a colorful, albeit snow-covered, city below, which passed quickly. Barren winter woods followed, albeit with snow unlike Scotia. A range of snowcapped mountains came after that, which occupied a good chunk of the eighth hour. The peaks eventually dropped, with more winter woods following, and after that, a highway bordering a river that roughly ran south.

The airship continued across the land for the next few hours, passing many stone barriers that undoubtedly signified international borders, as well as the occasional river or town, although there weren’t any mountains visible. There were highways, as well, running through the winter woods. Looking south beyond the front of the Flying Floran, Judge hoped he would make it to Otterland soon, if not tonight.

“Admiral,” Judge alerted a few minutes before the twelfth hour of the Daylight Period.

“Yes, Judge?”

“Do you know exactly where Otterland is in Britannia?”

“Of course! I know my geography, Judge! It’d be foolish for me to venture into new terrain without studying their features!”

“Yes, you seemed to know what you were doing back up in Scotia, so I suppose you should continue to stay the course.”

“Thank you for your trust, Judge.”

“You’re welcome, Admiral.”

The airship continued, with the twelfth hour arriving a few minutes later. Once it did, the airship slowed down, eventually hovering and then lowering to the wilderness. The vessel halted just above the roof of the woods, with sailors dropping an extensive rope ladder, ensuring it was long enough to reach the ground beneath the trees. Judge, certain this rope ladder was for his departure, approached it.

“I suppose this is goodbye, Admiral.”

“Indeed; we are close to Otterland, and it should be but a few kilometers to the south.”

“Thanks; it’s been a pleasure to ride with you, Admiral. I hope you fare well back in Ymir. The airship will surely help those in need, and I hope the other free nations there receive the technology, as well.”

“Farewell, Your Highness!”

Judge descended the rope ladder, passing through the treetops, beyond the trunks, and to the ground. He gazed back up and waved his adieus, after which the sailors of the Flying Floran raised the rope ladder back onto the deck, with the vessel afterward beginning its departure to the west, evidently back to Ymir. The deer stood for a few seconds within the winter wilderness as he heard the rush of the airship, which was eventually inaudible.

Now alone, Judge began heading south along the road, gazing around to view the barren, snow-covered woods, which, while seemingly similar to those back in Ymir, oddly seemed different. Perhaps it was the feeling of being in a new land, although Judge realized that he likely wouldn’t be traveling for a while, and therefore wished to adjust to this milieu. His trudge across the highway was slow at first, though he heightened his pace since it was getting dark.

A few minutes later, Judge faintly glimpsed an extensive stone barrier through the woods that ran east and west, being about a meter and a half tall. The highway ran to a pair of doors briefly separating the wall, with sentinels standing on the road near the doors as well as on the walls themselves. All wore violet clothes with yellow embroidering, their most significant feature being a circle centered by a cross whose points touched the circle.

“Good evening, sir!” greeted one of the sentinels, approaching Judge. “What brings you to the Grand Duchy of Otterland at so late an hour?”

“Well, I seek an audience with the Grand Duke.”

“What for, knave?”

“I wish to inquire the whereabouts of the Savior.”

The soldiers then laughed. “Oh, like we’re gonna let some random foreigner meet with the Grand Duke of Otterland! Just who are you?”

Judge then showed his Aesir passport, bearing one of his former identities, Jordan Deere the Younger. The other guard, scanning the document, wondered, “So you’re from Asgard, eh?”

“Yes, sir. I am an emissary who comes in the name of Lord Odin, and at His humble request, I beseech an audience with the Grand Duke of Otterland to inquire about the Savior.”

“Well, we couldn’t possibly turn down an emissary of God!” exclaimed the first guard as he and his companion opened the doors into Otterland. “Go on, Mr. Deere!”

“Thank you,” complimented Judge as he entered the Duchy.

“And be polite before His Lordship! Just because you’re from Asgard doesn’t mean you can boss him around!”

“I’ll keep that in mind…”

“Hey, sir! Need a ride to the palace?”

“Sure,” agreed Judge, looking in the direction of the voice to see a roach-drawn carriage near the international border.

“You’re Aesir?” the guard asked as Judge leapt aboard

“Yes,” answered Judge as the wagon began to move south.

“What’s it like up there?” asked the guard as the road gradually curved east. “Must be pretty cold this time of year, eh?”

“Indeed.”

“What’s going on up there now?”

“I really can’t say…things are pretty turbulent right now.”

“Oh, really? How so?”

“Asgard’s at war.”

“Fighting the Nidhoggr, I take it?”

“Indeed.”

“Good for them! Hope they give the nations of Anglia some help against the countries controlled by the Nidhoggr…”

“As do I. I hope my visit makes a difference.”

“Me too; but Chancellor Mithril doesn’t seem to wanna help at all; his faction in Parliament’s gutted our defenses!”

“Can’t the Grand Duke do anything about it?”

“He’s tried, but the Mithril Faction in Parliament has blocked all his proposals; the government’s in pretty deep debt right now.”

“How so?”

“Because of all the inefficient programs that the Chancellor’s miraculously managed to push through Parliament.”

“But surely there’d be plenty money for the military…”

“Well, Mithril doesn’t like the military; he thinks it’s inefficient, corrupt, and unnecessary, and instead wants to divert funds to his own pet programs and even tax the citizens into oblivion!”

“I never was a fan of taxes…I reduced them a bit when I was Pres…er…helped advocate their reduction in various nations.”

“A noble ambition; they say that taxes are the ultimate form of slavery, especially when one’s own fruits of labor are taxed.”

“Those who are loyal to the government and diligent should not be its slave; only those who have done wrong should be its slave.”

“Yeah, most governments across Anglia have some sort of system of slavery, where criminals become servants of the state for some time, working on civic works projects and such, and if their crimes were nonviolent, they’re ultimately released yet have to pay higher taxes. Their taxes depend upon the severity of their crimes, and if they’re repeat offenders, they’re either slaves for life, or, if they’re violet criminals, murderers, or traitors, incarcerated for life or executed.”

“What of the families of these criminals?”

“The children are sent to orphanages or put into foster homes. Criminals are unfit to be parents.”

“Indeed. Things are similar in Ymir…and in Asgard, too.”

“Ymir, eh?”

“Yes, I’ve spent a bit of time there, more than in Asgard.”

“Must do a lot of diplomacy, eh?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Heh, yeah. So, how’re things over there?”

“War-torn, pretty much.”

“Yeah, I heard about that Ymiran Empire, or whatever.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it; last I checked, it was on the brink of collapse.”

“Oh? Good to hear the Empire’s getting what it deserves.”

“Yes, God’s judgment shall surely reign supreme.”

“And how!”

The carriage rolled onward through the Duchy during the conversation. The road had long straightened out east and ran for a few kilometers to a fork-in-the-road, where the sentinel turned south, immediately entering the Otterlandic town of Barnett, full of bleached stone buildings and surprisingly cheerful inhabitants who appeared to adore the Prince of Asgard. Seeing these people wave and smile at him flattered Judge, who waved back.

The carriage eventually left the town in a direction somewhere between southeast and east back into the winter wilderness. The road passed briefly by a town called Harling, after which it turned south, shortly afterward touching the edge of Isling, and thereafter the town of Camden. After that, the carriage rolled past several large buildings in the woods that composed the Royal University of Otterland.

Beyond the University, the carriage turned east and continued through the winter wilderness. When the vehicle passed a large stable building, Judge saw that he and the driver had arrived in the City of Otterland. One of the most prominent buildings that followed was an Aesir cathedral, whose clergy took amazement to see Judge; if only they knew who he really was…

The carriage finally stopped before a pair of iron gates, with tall stone walls extending left and right. Behind the gates stood a great white palace with several gold-embroidered Otterlandic flags hanging and flying in various places. Sentinels, naturally, defended the gates and the tall arched palace doors, which appeared to be polished wood painted in red, all making the palace a majestic sight.

Judge got out of the wagon and briefly walked to the gates, with the driver indicating, “He’s an emissary from the Holy Kingdom of Asgard, boys! He’s got business with His Lordship!”

“Has he any proof he’s from Asgard?” inquired one of the soldiers in an unusually sneering voice.

Judge showed his Aesir passport. “I am from Asgard.”

“Looks authentic, so I suppose we can let him through.”

“Yes,” agreed the other gate guard, “but that won’t guarantee you an audience with the Grand Duke!”

“Maybe tomorrow, then?”

“Or later; it’s probably too late to meet the Duke since he’s at dinner and will likely wanna go to sleep afterwards.”

“I see…would I be able to stay the night, then?”

“Perhaps…but we could let you see the Chancellor.”

“I think I’d rather wait and speak with His Lordship…”

“Nonsense! Our Chancellor would love to speak with you!”

Sighing, Judge agreed, “Alright, I’ll speak to him.”

“Good man! Come right on in!”

The guards opened the gates, leading Judge through them and closing them afterward. They then led the Prince the brief distance to the palace doors, opening them and entering. Judge, however, didn’t have the time to scope the palace interior, as the sentinels literally tugged him along any time he stood still. They ascended a staircase, traveled down a few halls, and eventually halted before a smaller pair of doors with the word “Chancellor” engraved on its upper arch.

One of the guards rapped the door, with a sinister voice from within calling out, “Who’s there?”

“Some strange visitor who says he’s from Asgard!”

“I’m an emissary!” corrected Judge, only for one of the guards to hit him on the head. “Ow!”

“Don’t you talk to our Chancellor like that, you hear?”

“Okay, sorry, geez…”

“Let him in!” the voice from the office called out again.

“Yes, sir!”

As one guard held open one of the doors, the other grabbed the deer and threw him into the office, where he fell face down, immediately noticing the violet carpeting. While he got back on his feet, Judge scoped out the Chancellor’s office, which contained a gold chandelier, a desk with chairs before and behind it, and walls lined by scroll and book-laden shelves. The Chancellor himself was a bulldog with gray fur, white hair, blue eyes, and a red robe.

“Well, sit!” commanded the Chancellor.

“Y-yes, sir,” Judge reluctantly complied.

As the guards began their departure, the Chancellor admonished, “Where do you think you two are going?”

“Well, we wanted to leave you two to talk and…”

“STAY HERE!”

“W-why, sir?”

“So this stranger doesn’t try anything funny here…”

“Very well, sir.”

The guards then closed the doors, standing before them and observing the Chancellor and Judge as they began their conversation. The former began, “So, what do you want with me, Mr.…”

“Deere. Jordan Deere the Younger of Asgard.”

“And where would the Elder Jordan Deere be, may I ask?”

“Dead somewhere in this world, sir.”

“I see. So, why have you supposedly come all the way from Asgard to this filthy little country?”

“I don’t think it’s filthy at all…”

“ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

Judge, feeling his ears ring, nervously answered, “I’m looking for information about the Savior…”

“The Savior? You came because of a phony legend?”

“But history has proven…”

“SILENCE! Answer my question!”

“Which question, exactly?”

“Are you deaf? I asked if the coming of the Savior, who we all know doesn’t even exist, brought you all the way here from Asgard to this cesspool we call Otterland!”

“Yes, sir.”

“And how do I know that you speak honestly, Mr. Deere?”

“Why would I lie to the Chancellor of an entire nation?”

“Are you mad? Entire nation? Do you realize how pitifully tiny Otterland is? How do I believe you’re not trying to con the Chancellor of a weak nation like this into something devious?”

Sighing, Judge reiterated, “Look, sir, I’m just trying to get information about the Savior, and most signs seem to point here. There really isn’t any way to prove whether I’m lying about who I am or not, so you’ll just have to trust my word, if you can.”

“Now that you mention it, I don’t think I can trust you until we’ve found out who you truly are. Guards, search him!”

“Yes, sir!” concurred the sentinels.

Judge stood and lifted his hands behind his head, allowing the guards to search him. They also confiscated his quiver of arrows, bow, and sword. The deer then realized that he had more than one passport, each with different identities, which, along with his other minor belongings, the soldiers placed before the Chancellor, who scoured them.

“Ah, what’s this, Mr. Deere?” wondered the Chancellor as he looked through Judge’s passports. “On a covert mission?”

“I have a long history, sir.”

“Tell me this, now--what’s your real name?”

“My real name is Vidar Amadeus Wolfgod Deerlord, Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Asgard.”

The guards and the Chancellor all laughed. The latter eventually ceased his laughter, scorning the guards, “SILENCE!”

“Sorry, sir…”

“Well, I guess this goes to show you are indeed a filthy liar, Your Royal Highness,” mocked the Chancellor, “and I must say what a wonderful disguise that is! Guards, take it off!”

“But this isn’t a disguise…”

“Yes, sir!”

One of the sentinels then clutched Judge’s golden antlers, tugging mightily yet making no progress. He then pushed them downward, forcing the deer to his knees, while the other guard literally tore off his clothing, with the first guard aiding in this as well, starting with his feet. Judge ultimately wound up naked, with the guards further trying to pull off his alleged disguise, albeit with no success.

“Stop it, men!” commanded Mithril, though the guards continued to tug at Judge’s skin, face, and antlers. “STOP IT!”

“Sorry, sir,” apologized the guards as they finally released the deer and got back on their feet. “What do we do with him now? Seems like he isn’t wearing a disguise, after all.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell…”

“SILENCE! Throw him in the dungeon!”

“Yes, sir!”

“And as for you, whoever you are, you shall be executed on the twenty-second, and then we can see once and for all that if that pure fur and antlers of yours are really a disguise or not!”

“Oh, God, no…”

“God won’t help you now! He strikes down liars like you!”

“And He’ll strike you down for ruining this country!”

“You wanna be executed here?” Judge said nothing. “Ah, being obedient for a change, are we? Well then, your death might just be a little gentler if you behave yourself! Who knows, you might even be released with a slap on the wrist!”

Judge heard a guard mutter, “Not bloody likely…”

“Take him away, boys!”

“Yes, sir!” complied the sentinels as they elevated Judge and carried him bare out of the office.

The sentinels took Judge through the halls of Otterland Palace, although about a minute from the Chancellor’s office, they halted upon encountering two otters, an adult and a teenager, both clothed in red garbs with gold embroidering. The adult was brown, and the teenager was white, surprisingly, with golden antlers. The latter scratched the back of his head as he eyed the Crown Prince of Asgard.

“Your Lordship!” saluted the soldiers as they tried to wander past the apparent Grand Duke of Otterland and his companion.

“Halt! Who is this naked man?”

“A criminal! The Chancellor has decreed that he be jailed for breaching the peace and deceiving a government official!”

“This man’s a criminal, father?” the antlered otter inquired. “I think he should have a trial first…”

“Silence, boy!” one of the guards interrupted. “The Chancellor already has enough evidence to sentence him to death! He will be executed on the twenty-second!”

“My birthday?” the albino lutrine wondered.

“Ah, forgot that that was young Ieremia’s birthday!” the other sentinel stated. “Well then, you can think of it as a birthday gift that we’re ridding the country of a foul criminal!”

“A morbid present…” the Grand Duke stated. “Could he have a fair trial first? All men are innocent until proven guilty…”

“How mindless,” Judge heard of the soldiers mutter.

“What was that, soldier?” the Grand Duke asked.

“If he is guilty, he shall surely be headless, sire.”

“Though I am interested in learning exactly what crimes this man committed…public nudity, I presume?”

“Yeah, Your Lordship; we’re gonna execute him for public nudity!” one of the soldiers sarcastically replied.

“What’s the problem?” Ieremia wondered. “That’s the way we’re born, aren’t we? Besides, I think he looks cute like that…”

“Hold your tongue, son; we have business elsewhere.”

“Yes, father.”

Ieremia and his father then moved past Judge and his captors, with the deer able to hear the Duke say, “You know, son, he could be a distant relative of yours…”

“My thoughts exactly, father.”

As the Grand Duke and his son wandered away, the sentinels resumed transporting Judge to the dungeon. They took him downstairs to the entrance hall and went behind the main staircase, descending into an area with walls of dark gray stone, undoubtedly the dungeons. There was a brief lobby area where a guard signed in the new prisoner, after which the deer was dragged through a hall with thick arched wooden doors with small barred windows near their tops.

The guards ultimately halted before one of the doors, unlocking and opening it to reveal a pitch-black cell behind, into which the sentinels ruthlessly tossed the wrongful prisoner, where he landed violently on his face. The guards then slammed the door shut and locked it again, walking away and leaving their hostage in bleak solitude. As the footsteps grew silent, Judge believed that any chance of ever becoming King of Asgard was now gone.

“So, what are you in for, kid?” asked an unfamiliar voice.

“Uh…”

“Robbery? Murder? Treason?” then the stranger illuminated a candle, revealing Judge’s naked self. “Nudity, perhaps?”

“I wish it were just public nudity…”

Judge then sat before this fellow prisoner, who was a violet donkey with violet eyes and no headfur. He wore ragged clothes that undoubtedly signified that he had been in this cell for a long time. He also had a polished wooden pipe into which he dropped some tobacco and lit with the candle, releasing its pleasant aroma. He drew some into his mouth and exhaled, sighing with both relaxation and sorrow.

“What are you in for, then?”

“I upset the Chancellor and was thrown down here.”

“So did I, sixteen years ago, my boy…although my offense to the Chancellor was quite indirect.”

“Indirect? How so?”

“Sixteen years ago, I entered the Grand Duchy of Otterland, having heard a prophecy that the Savior was to be born there.”

“So you came for the same reason I did…”

“Really?”

“Yes, but I’d like to hear your story first.”

“Very well. Upon arriving at Otterland’s borders, I was quickly arrested because I was a seraph.”

“Because you were a seraph? But your wings…”

“Yes, I had wings, my boy, though I assure you that the blood of a seraph still flows through me.”

“I don’t think I quite understand…”

“Patience, my boy! I was taken to this very cell for imprisonment, and after they brought me here, they cut off my wings…”

“How horrible…”

“Yes, I couldn’t stand the pain…it hurt for endless weeks, and even today my scars burn still.” The donkey then stripped his ruined shirt, turning around to show a pair of dark red-violet lines where his wings once were. “Oh, to think I shall never fly again…”

“I myself shall never fly again, sir.”

“Truly? You once had wings as well?”

“Yes, though I lost them when I was but an infant, not out of malice, but out of love.”

“But how can one lose wings out of love?”

“I was adopted by a loving family, and they wished to shield me from the truth of who I truly was.”

“How can one love a false family that deceives you?”

“I loved them because they were the only family I ever knew; I don’t remember my real father, and I met my mother for but a moment before she died…”

“I have long forgotten love, my boy; it was over ten millennia ago that I loved and lost someone, and since then, I have lost the capacity to love another, and have endlessly wandered Terra, enduring two great wars, and fighting in the first.”

“So you were a warrior once?”

“Indeed. I fought alongside Vali Seth Wolfgod Deerlord, Savior during the Great Demon War.”

“Wow, really? Were you but a common soldier, though?”

“I was no common soldier; I was one of the Crusaders.”

“Who…are you?”

“My name is Dwight Davis Ashcraft Aznar. I was the Crusader of Earth, and once wielded the White Earth Rune.”

“Really?” wondered Judge, who had heard the name before. “Would you happen to know where it is, now?”

“I cannot tell, for I returned it to Asgard after the Great Demon War for another Crusader to bequeath.”

“It’s sad for a hero to end up incarcerated like this…”

“Indeed…”

“It’s also sad for the nephew of a Savior to be imprisoned here, as well.”

“Oh, really? Where is he?”

“He stands before you. I am Vidar Amadeus Wolfgod Deerlord, Crown Prince of Asgard.”

“Truly?” The donkey then gazed deeply into the Prince’s eyes. “Ah, yes, I see it in your eyes, your fur, your antlers…never have I seen anyone as pure as Lord Odin and His siblings…”

“But Lord Odin is no more, as is the Queen…”

“Such a tragedy…our world shall surely fall into ruin…”

“There is still hope…surely Ieremia will save us all…”

“I have seen Ieremia myself, and though his disposition is godly, I think not he will be powerful enough to save Terra.”

“But he has the White Rune, doesn’t he?”

“The White Rune is not here, Your Highness; it is far, far away, somewhere safe. Where exactly, I cannot tell.”

“Hopefully Ieremia will know where it is.”

“As do I, but again, I doubt his power.”

“Why, Mr. Aznar? Do not the powers of the Runes come naturally to their bearers?”

“True, but he shall need to seek the other Heroes to battle the Dark Lord.”

“Yes, I see that all Seven Crusaders must help purify him and seal him away.”

“Yet twice before, they have failed to do so. We can only pray that this time, the Dark Lord is vanquished once and for all.”

“But surely I can help the Savior when his powers are unleashed…I am the son of God, after all.”

“Yes, it would only be natural for the next King of Asgard to help save Terra. In fact, I believe that you would be far fitter to wield the White Rune.”

“But I don’t want to feud with Ieremia over the Rune, and if I die, the Lord’s blood shall forever be gone.”

“Indeed, you must be cautious if you wish to help the Savior. But I heard that Lord Odin had a daughter as well…”

“My sister…”

“They say she eloped with a man from Otterland…which was another reason I came here. But I have seen little of the outside world during the sixteen years I’ve been in here…”

“So my sister could be here?”

“Maybe, but I have not seen her since she was born two scores ago. Fair Princess Jenova…oh, to see her face again would revitalize what life I have lost…”

“And it would do me well to see my sister firsthand…”

“I am certain that seeing the face of one of your blood relatives would do you well, Your Highness.”

“I just hope we don’t starve to death in this cell.”

“We are immortal, Your Highness. The guards here were very aware of that and have never fed me since my captivity. Death would be far more relieving than to starve for a lifetime…”

“It surprises me that you haven’t attempted suicide at all…not that I would consider it, either.”

“Yes, it is a grave sin, Your Highness. I continue to thrive because I know one day Otterland will be free again, and I can continue to wander the world for all eternity.”

“And I can claim my throne. But being Holy King of Asgard would surely be a daunting task.”

“Lord Odin ruled for many millennia, Your Highness.”

“But I’m not sure if I would like to rule that long.”

“You could bequeath your throne to one of your scion.”

“Yes, I have two daughters…”

“Two daughters, you say?”

“Yes, but surely they miss me, as does my loving wife. I wish they could have joined me…”

“But I am sure you have endured hardship on your journey here. I am sure that you would not wish the same for them.”

“Yet they will still grieve for me. The mind and emotions can torture far more than weapons.”

“Indeed. I shall take a stabbing over sadness or anger any day of the year.”

“I just wonder if we’ll suffer in this abyss for all eternity, if Ieremia doesn’t fulfill his duties as Savior.”

“He will--and I know you will fulfill yours, as well.”

“I hope so…”

The cell stayed silent for a few minutes before, to the captives’ surprise, knocking shattered the silence. This provoked Aznar to extinguish the candle (his pipe had already burned out), throwing the cell into darkness again. However, the unlocking and opening of the cell door again illuminated the cell. Surprisingly, the person who had opened the cell door was not a guard, but a far more angelic figure.

“Good evening…Jordan, if that’s your name,” she greeted, evidently not seeing Aznar, who was curled in one of the corners.

Judge immediately concealed his nether regions upon realizing that a woman had opened the cell. She was very beautiful, wearing a violet dress with golden embroidering, and being an albino deer that surprisingly had white-feathered wings and a white lupine or canine tail. Judge looked to her feet, noticing that she wore slippers and too had lupine or canine feet. As she entered the cell, carrying a tray of food, Judge supposed that she was a hybrid like he was.

“You are Jordan Deere the Younger, are you not?” she reiterated after Judge remained silent for a few seconds.

“That’s…one of my names, yes…”

“One of your names? Oh, yes, my husband told me that you had many passports with different names.”

“Your…husband?”

“Yes. Franklin Odysseus MacDohl Otterland, or Grand Duke Odysseus II. I am Grand Duchess Dina.”

“Dina…” repeated Judge.

“Pardon?”

“It’s just…it’s just…”

“Is something the matter?”

“You…look…”

“Yes, I am sure you’re surprised that we look similar.”

“You think…we’re…”

“We could be siblings, yes…but please, I can’t talk to you all night. My husband will surely worry about me, and the Chancellor doesn’t like us interacting with prisoners.”

“What’s the Chancellor trying to do, exactly?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” supposed the Grand Duchess as she gave Judge the tray. “Now please, eat. I am sure you’re hungry.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, and I promise I’ll get you clothes tomorrow, knowing how those guards literally ripped them off your body.”

“And they tried to rip off my fur and skin as well.”

“I’ll see to it they don’t treat you like that again.”

“Thanks again.”

“Now if you would, I can’t stay here forever. Goodbye.” As the Grand Duchess began to leave the cell, she quickly turned back around and inquired, “By the way, what’s your real name?”

“Vidar.”

“Interesting…where are you from?”

“Asgard.”

“Really? In that case, I think I should share a little secret with you. I’m from Asgard as well.”

The Grand Duchess of Otterland then knelt and hugged Judge, somewhat abashing him. Then she stood back up, turned around, and exited the cell, closing the thick door and locking it. After her footsteps faded away, Aznar relit the candle and refilled his pipe, lighting it again. He and Judge eyed the tray’s contents, which included steaming soup, hot bread, and a mug of water. However, Judge didn’t feel hungry.

He slid the tray to Aznar. “You need it far more than I do.”

“Thanks, lad,” complimented the donkey, who began to eat the food. “Oh, how long it’s been since I’ve had a bite to eat…”

“I don’t feel I deserve it since you have suffered more.”

“But you are young, lad! You have not experienced nearly as much as I have, and you have many millennia ahead of you!”

“Uh, I will be executed soon, you know.”

“No, you won’t! We’ll both make it out soon, I know it!”

“I just hope you aren’t setting me up for disappointment…”

“Think positive! Don’t give into hate and sadness…”

“Yes, I understand…there is indeed much good in the world, and yet, it is difficult to ignore what is bad…”

“Indeed, but it is better to extinguish the flames of hatred than to fan them. We must not let the words and weapons of our enemies strike us, and we must stand up and fight back, for there will always be those who will see their futility and abet us, and in the end, good shall surely triumph over evil, and Terra shall be saved. And even if darkness envelops the world, even the faintest ray of hope shall shine and inspire those who still have good in them to stand up and fight.”

“Only a mighty warrior could speak such words. You truly are a hero of the Great Demon War, Lord Aznar.”

“My thanks. Surely you shall be a hero of another war.”

“Ieremia, maybe, but I would much rather rule as a King.”

“But Kings must still stand up for themselves, as well.”

“Of course, I do have some fighting skills, and maybe I could use the White Rune since I do have Odin’s blood…”

“Indeed; Odin Himself and his deceased sons have wielded the White Rune, so surely his progeny can, as well!”

“A pity I might never even see it…”

“Pity no one but all the infidels across Terra!”

Judge said no more, and Aznar finished the meal, sleeping in the corner and allowing his fellow prisoner to take the bed. Judge accepted, attempting to rest and trying not to think about his impending execution. Instead, he focused on meeting his older sister, unless she was a pretender, for the first time in his life, and very much anticipated seeing her again in the morrow. But Judge worried too about his family back in Stellasolum, and wondered if he would ever see them again.