567 Old Sage

It landed beside Scarmother Talon's feet. 

Talon narrowed her eyes, "Don't be so quick to judge. We Tyrions have a sworn duty to punish the wicked-- not to slaughter the innocent."

"But Scarmother?" The man frowned, puffing out his chest like a petulant child, "This one's obviously a Witch!"

"Flame take it, man," Talon shook her head. She pointed at an Armored Champion, "You there. Take this fish and give him 20 lashes for insubordination."

"Yes, Scarmother!" The gentleman drew his sword and moved forward. He gripped the first Decanus by the elbow and whispered some choice phrases into his ear. Finally realizing his disrespect, the idiot kept his mouth shut as he was escorted away. 

For that, Talon was thankful. According to wartime protocols, 20 lashes was the maximum non-lethal punishment she could assign... and she didn't really want to order him executed. 

"Now, then..." She turned back to the Witch, "Where were we?"

"Let us free..." The girl muttered, "We haven't done anything to hurt anyone."

"Ideas can do more harm than sword and spell," Talon paced in front of her... "Who taught you how to use magic?"

The Witch held her tongue and averted her gaze. 

She was hiding something.

Talon grasped onto the half-human's soot-covered hair and pulled her head up, "Where are you hiding her? Speak!"

The girl's panicked eyes betrayed her. Shehad glanced to the side, at the other captives. 

Talon raised an eyebrow and pointed in the direction she briefly looked, "One of these two, then?"

"NO!" The Witch screamed, "My teacher did nothing wrong! Please! I'm telling the truth!"

"The man with the grey beard," Talon gestured towards the captive at the far end, "Remove his gag and blindfold."

Invoker Agathe hurried forward, "Aye, Scarmother."

She removed the blindfold of the older man. His grey hair and beard were marked with streaks of white and sharp lines were cut deeply on his face. He had dark circles underneath his eyes, as well as cuts and swells. 

He had not gone quite peaceably. 

Talon walked to him and met his gaze... the same rebellious eyes as that of his student. 

"What's your story, then, old timer?" 

The man pursed his lips... and when spoke, it was with measured words, "It was I who taught these two half-elves Alizeaun magic. It is my fault for deceiving them and mine alone."

"Teacher, NO!!" The Witch screamed. 

The old man was not a very good liar. 

He then inclined his head, wearing a disgustingly fake smile, "Please, Centurion. I submit to your laws and request execution for my sins."

"Very well," Talon saluted. "By the Flame, you shall be purged. By dragonfire, you will be born anew."

"Wait!" The old man's eyes shot open, horrified. "What-- that's IMPOSSIBLE!"

"Behold, Tyrion flames," Talon smiled warmly, "It's a step above anything your nation can produce-- but really shouldn't be *too* surprising." 

"No!!!" He screamed, straining his voice to do so, "Dragons! DON'T! EXIST!"

"Ohhhh, is that what this is about?" Talon shook her head... then sneered arrogantly, "I'm pleased to inform you that actually, they do. And when they return, the Sons and Daughters of Qotal will march on your so-called 'Magic Kingdom' and burn your capital to the ground."

"YOU!!" The man shouted, "You're the ones being fooled!! The dragons must NEVER return to this land!! Not just the Holy Country, but the entire Realm will burn to ASH!!!"

"Right," Talon shrugged. "And from the ashes, all will be born anew. Weren't you paying attention?"

With a gentle breath, the ball of fire happily leapt from her palm and lit the old man's pyre ablaze. 

"TEACHERRRRR!!!!" The Witch shrieked, trying but failing to be louder than the old man's cries of agony. 

"C-centurion!! Please!!" She begged, "The flames! My brother's going to die!!"

It was obvious that her brother, the still-blindfolded captive, was keenly aware of his chance in circumstances. Sweat poured down his face, he struggled desperately against his bindings. As the flames rose, so did the volume of his muffled screams. 

"...Yes, I am aware," Talon twisted her lips to the side. "And you will share in his fate."

Regardless of who was at fault, heresy was punishable by death. It was a basic command of all Tyrion's citizens. 

Talon felt a tinge of guilt that the Witch didn't seem to understand that. The girl should have known. She had no right to complain. 

"Wh-what?" Realization dawned in the Witch's eyes, her earlier arrogance, entirely absent. 

She looked how she should have, sorrowful and repentant. 

Talon patted the girl on the cheek, "Don't worry. The cycle continues neverending. Fire. Ash. Rebirth."

"How... how can you do this? You're... you're a mage too, aren't you?" 

"Not quite. We all serve the Eternal Flame."

"A... all of you?" Realization slowly dawned in the Witch's eyes, "All of you... are mages?"

Talon took a deep breath... "I know it's hard to understand, girl... but I've seen the dragon in the Flame. I've heard its voice... we all have. There's a better life for you and for all of us, whether or not you choose to believe it."

"You're-- you're just killing innocent people!!" The Witch cried, "Please... at least my brother... he's still just a boy! You CAN'T DO THIS!!"

Talon turned her back to the witch, "Gag her. She'll spend her last few moments in quiet prayer-- and perhaps a bit of dignity."

"Right away, Scarmother," Agathe immediately got to work, tearing off a strip of cloth from the girl's tunic and tying it tightly around her mouth. 

"Is there anything else?" Talon raised an eyebrow. 

"There is," Agathe nodded. "What shall we do about the village?"

"A village that breeds heresy doesn't need to stand," Talon crossed her arms. "Burn it."

The woman furrowed her brows, "But... the villagers, Scarmother?"

"What about them?" Talon furrowed her brows, "Oh... We'll bring them to The Exarch. Those who can hear the dragon's voice will be inducted to the Sons of Qotal."

"R-right," Agathe breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Did you think I was going to order them all killed?" Talon squeezed her friend's cheek. "You're pregnant, Agathe, not stupid."

"C-can you not, Scarmother?" Embarrassed, Agathe brushed Talon's hand away. "My husband doesn't know yet."

"Haha! I apologize, sister," Talon grinned. "But really, you should let him--"

"Scarmother! Scarmother Talon!!" 

The crowd of faithful split, allowing a beleaguered Scout to pass through, "Scarmother! We've found signs of invaders in the Caeruleum hills!"