The broken nose, black eye and deep scratches along her cheek did nothing to diminish the expression of pride and self-righteousness in her face.
The cup of tea before her was untouched.
The Tzaangor Cleric on the opposite side of the table was on his third cup, and he wasn’t a fast drinker.
The document, feather and quill on the table were untouched as well, and here lay the point of contention between the two.
The Alumnian Cathallar kept a stoic facade, but she feared the slight, involuntary movement of her bare feet gave her away, at least to the unnervingly unmoving guards at the sides of the room. This would have been so much easier if it was just about her alone.
“The honoured Elariel Fairshard needs another tea, it appears hers has turned cold again.” The Cleric ordered one of his soldiers, a newly changed Tzaangor, still wearing the remnants of an Auralan Warden, who nodded and disappeared.
Inadvertently, a bitter grin burst forth on her face. “Do not presume I would not know you are toying with me, mutant.”
“I am merely proposing a way out of our mutual conundrum.”
“An offer made under duress is no offer made in good faith.”
The Tzaangor cackled. “Would you have spoken to me without duress?”
The unspoken ‘no’ remained hanging in the air.
“You were found conspiring against the war efforts of the Scorntide by the means of necromantic activities, Elariel. This -” he gestured towards the document in front of her “- is a diplomatic solution.”
“There can be no diplomatic solution involving the servants of Chaos.” the Cathallar stated firmly. “Especially with those serving the Deceiver.”
“I understand.”
Heavy golden gauntlets grabbed her from behind.
“I cannot say I’m surprised. Farewell, Elariel Fairshard. Perhaps your apprentice will prove more sensible.”
To both sides, unmoving walls of bulky golden Templars towered over her as she was dragged along the path towards the stake.
Despite the surprise of this sudden turn of events, she walked with her head held high. She had always promised this to herself, and also, she could see Idiriel caged nearby.
Between the firewood laid the murdered bodies of the rest of her entourage, she noticed. Still, she forced calmness and serenity onto her mind. She needed to be a good example, now.
Elariel Fairshard did not see reason to suffer indignity of resisting as they bound her to the stake, and she recited an ancient poem of her homeland as they lit the logs and corpses on fire.
The flames flicked higher, reaching the hem of her ornate red dress.
As the Flames reached her flesh, to the sonorous hymn of those surrounding her, she sang a song of Glory she had never known before.
