Marduk’s Mark [1]
Judicator
He was running out of breath, but he did his best to continue as fast as he could. The street was a long, winding tunnel that ran through a fairly quiet part of the city, one that was usually deserted at night. Come on, Jeeves, you have to lose him, he thought to himself. He kept running down the street until coming to a sudden, screeching halt. The stairs! How could he have forgotten that they’ve been blocked by a fence for the last two weeks! He looked behind him and noticed his pursuer, a tall man in a shimmering suit of armor, fully plated, his face hiding behind a sealed steel mask that resembled a bear’s head. This is not the time to be spaced out! Knowing that he shouldn’t waste any more time, he just went on, climbing over the fence, then climbing the stairs, three to four steps at a time. He didn’t reach the 15th step.
The armored man drew his right arm back and then swung it forward, drawing an arch with the long chain he was holding. He pivoted his upper body towards the left but kept his head looking up and straight, aiming the chain a few steps higher than where the man was, then he pulled back. He used the chain as he would a limb on his body, knowing exactly how to manipulate it to achieve his goal. He had calculated the distance and height necessary to grab the man by the neck. The chain wrapped around the neck of his victim and pulled him down, 14 steps and a few meters until the man in the suit of armor was within an arm’s reach from Jeeves. The fence didn’t pose much of a problem as the armored man removed a section and pulled Jeeves through the opening.
Jeeves was battered but still tried to struggle. The armored man tugged on his whip, holding his prey tighter.
Between gasps, Jeeves managed to stutter a request. “Let go of me,” he said.
The man in the armor pulled the chain back and towards the ground, undoing it from the man’s neck but also turning his captive around as he did so. The captor lowered his left hand and pulled it backwards, then violently thrust it against his captive. A thud was produced as his heavily armored hand pressed against Jeeves’ gut in a sudden, violent punch. Jeeves exhaled, producing an expression of pain, and passed out as he got his wind knocked out of him. The figure in the suit of armor slung the man over his shoulder and climbed up the stairs through the section of the fence he had previously removed.
“Jeeves Vincent, you are to be judged by those who suffered your crimes.”
An old man was standing inside a tall building made out of white marble, right next to a sealed door. He stared at that door, fear and fascination on his face. His pupils were dilated and his brow was sweating profusely. He tried to contain his emotions by admiring the craftsmanship that went into its design. It was an impressive door, the old man thought. The huge slab was made out of a dark, bronze-like metal and contained a grid of 18 images, each of them separated by four indentations on each side, creating small squares full of extremely detailed art.
The old man could recognize each image as a representation of the life and beatification of Saint Jeanne Riverson, patron saint of justice and equality. The two images in the ninth row were particularly interesting to the old man. While they showed a really graphic part of the story, the craftsmanship was impressive. The scenes depicted the loss of her eyes at the hands of a group of villains and the moment when the light of Judicar the Serene overwhelmed the group of bandits, blinding them for what they did to her, and granting her untold wisdom.
He ran his fingers through the figures, enjoying the cold, smooth metal. It felt oddly soothing, yet it was unable to calm his building anxiety. Is this the right thing to do, he thought to himself.
“Am I ready for this?” he said out loud. Then he laughed. “I know,” he said as he looked at the image of the Saint on that last tile. “You can’t answer.” He moved away from the door and sat on a simple wooden chair next to it.
He lost himself in his thoughts for a moment, holding his chin with his left hand. Suddenly, a loud sound from behind the door woke him up from his meditations. The door swung inwards as it opened. The old man gulped. A man in a heavy suit of armor stepped from the door. His helmet resembled a bear’s head and it shimmered with the glow of some thin rays of colored light that fell on it from the stained glass windows inside the building. The old man wasn’t sure what to make of it all. The man in the suit of armor bowed before him.
“We found the murderer,” he said. “Do you wish to proceed?” The old man was sweating. Tears welled in his eyes. For a moment he thought he’d just leave, but then he decided to propose a question to the man in the suit of armor.
“Is it worth it?”
The armored man simply stood there, waiting for the old man to proceed. The old man breathed deeply and nodded at the armored man.
“I will proceed, fair Judicator.” The armored man moved to the side, allowing the old man the space he needed to enter the room.
He noticed the tapestries: fine, heavily embroidered, and full of images from Saint Jeanne Riverson’s tale on the west side. The east side had images exemplifying the tenets of Judicar, holy god of justice. The end opposite the door had no decorations though. It was just a simple white wall with a concrete throne in front of it. Light from the windows poured inside the room, lighting a man that was sitting on the throne.
The old man noticed that the man was bound with chain shackles at his feet. His arms were tied to the concrete armrests on the throne with a thick rope. The armored man produced a small flask from a wooden table next to the throne and removed the cork. He moved the uncovered flask towards the man and placed it under his nose. The vapors suddenly woke him up.
“This is Jeeves Vincent,” the Judicator said. “As Judicar proclaims, he is the man who ended your granddaughter’s life!” Jeeves Vincent suddenly wished that horrible smelling concoction hadn’t woken him up…
