Coin watches from the other side of the platform. Their delegation hasn't moved, hasn't spoken, just observing the way Coin always does. Waiting to see which way this falls before committing. Smart. Cowardly. Both. The Coin special.
The High Priest raises his hands again. "Let the judgment proceed."
Movement at my left—Renan shifting his weight forward, ready. I don't look at Koshin. I can feel him behind me, that pressure, the air going dense and wrong around him, but I keep my eyes forward. We planned this. We rehearsed this. Now we execute.
Funny word choice.
Execute.
I'm hilarious when I'm exhausted.
"Oh, I love this part."
Koshin's voice rings across the plaza, bright and delighted. Wrong in a way that makes the crowd flinch.
"This is the part where we see blood, yes?" He's walking now, the crowd parting around him. "I didn't want to miss it. I heard there would be blood."
The High Priest's hands freeze mid-gesture. Every head turns toward us—the Mad God of Discord strolling through the crowd with that awful smile, flanked by his second and me. Current political nightmare.
Great.
Family reunion at a public execution.
Exactly how I wanted to spend my morning.
My father's face goes white. I watch it happen—the blood draining, the calculation crashing against recognition. His daughter, walking with Discord. His transaction, come back to bite him. He should have sold me cheaper. Maybe then it wouldn't sting so much.
"This proceeding is sanctioned by Faith and witnessed by the Concord." The High Priest recovers faster than I expected, his voice steady. "Discord has no authority here."
"No?" Koshin keeps walking. His smile hasn't moved. "Tell me more about authority. I'm fascinated."
Murmurs ripple through the crowd while Faith's acolytes shift, hands moving toward weapons that won't matter if Koshin decides they don't.
"You stand on holy ground." The High Priest's voice rises, projecting righteous authority. "This is a sacred proceeding—"
"This is theater." The words are out before I've decided to speak, loud enough to carry. "You're executing a witness to cover up a massacre, and you're doing it in public because you think the performance makes it legal."
The High Priest's eyes find me. Irritation tightens the corners of his mouth, dismissal in the way his chin lifts—the look men like him give women who speak out of turn.
"The Discord consort speaks." Mild, patronizing. "How touching that the Mad God allows his pet to—"
Koshin growls. Actually. Growls.
For one second, the High Priest hesitates, his weight rocking back. Then he straightens, lifting his chin higher, squaring his shoulders, pulling rank around himself. "Remove them. This proceeding will continue as sanctioned."
Faith guards step forward—three from the left, four from the right, hands on weapons. Renan's smile widens.
"Before you do that—" I raise my voice. "—you might want to see what we brought."
I pull the documents from inside my coat and hold them up. Folded parchment, official seals, damning words. My fingers are trembling, so I grip harder.
"Orders." My voice wants to crack, but I don't let it. "Dated two days before the explosion. Signed by Faith leadership. Authorizing the attack on Discord's compound. Detailing the ritual amplification that killed thirty-seven civilians."
The crowd stirs.
"Correspondence between Faith and Coin's council. Coordinating the strike. Discussing acceptable casualties." I let that word hang—acceptable, like people are arithmetic, like thirty-seven lives are a rounding error. "Spoiler: they thought fifty was the cap. Guess they came in under budget."
The murmurs grow angrier. Good.
