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Title: Scandal
Author: Beatrice_otter
Fandom: The Goblin Emperor Series – Katherine Addison
Rating: Gen
Length: 2337 words
Summary: The Ulineisei of Amalo are a nest of vipers. Thara may not see the implications of the Ulisothala's treatment of him, but Anora can.
On tumblr. On AO3. On Pillowfort.
Anora watched his friend Thara walk blearily out of his office and frowned in frustration and worry. Thara was a good man of deep virtue and compassion, who was yet ill-equipped to be anything but frankly truthful. And in the snake pit that was the politics of the prelates of Amalo, that was a grave fault indeed. Thara accepted this and, in turn, accepted treatment that he should not. Anora had begun worrying for his friend's future here not long after they had first become friends, when it became clear to him just how ill-equipped and unwilling Thara was to advocate for himself.
But this went beyond—far beyond—mere ill-treatment of Thara himself, for all Thara seemed not to see it.
As he had expected, all three of his prelates (and the sextons who assisted them in the heavier work) had gathered in the main office. The whole affair—all the affairs, the Duhaladeise rumors, the ghoul, the trial by ordeal—were items of gossip within the Amal'theilineise and without it, and as Thara's closest friend Anora was a prime source of news.
"Any details about the ghoul?" Vidrezhen cocked her head. "The Dithoraneise patriarch is ailing, and uncertain as to which rites he would prefer when the inevitable happens. A good ghoul story might nudge him into a cremation."
"'Good' is perhaps not the right word …" Daibrohar muttered.
"Gory, more like," Erlenar said.
"The details should all be in the newspapers, with embroidery," Anora said. "That should be sufficient, and if you wish for the un-embroidered details you may ask him yourself." He paused, considering what they needed to know. "The Duhaladeise case is less sensational, but more pressing. The eldest son, cut out of his father's will, forged a will more to his liking. Othala Celehar, called in to witness for the dead father, found that the father's spirit still remembered the name of the child he had made his heir, thus revealing which son was the forger. The eldest son, with no hope of escaping the consequences of his own dishonesty, chose to dig a deeper hole for himself and accuse the Witness of fraud. With no evidence against the Witness, and much circumstantial evidence of the eldest son's own fraud. And all authorities—the Ulisothala, the Amal'othala, the Prince himself—chose to hang Othala Celehar out to dry and required to prove his innocence in a Trial by Ordeal. With, we remind you, no evidence of any misconduct on his part, and much evidence of his accuser's misconduct."
Erlenar shook his head. "Sad business, very sad," he said.
"Scandalous, more like," Vidrezhen said. She was from an old, conservative family, and had been well educated in social nuance. She did not like to play political games (and her family did not like to be reminded that she had dedicated herself to Ulis instead of marrying or serving a more appropriate deity for a lady), which was why she was a junior prelate in a municipal cemetery in the poorest quarter of the city. But she could always be counted on to see all the angles. "It's an attack on the authority of every prelate of Ulis and every Witness in Amalo."
"Now, that seems a bit excessive," Erlenar protested. He was a good man, very pious and devoted to his duties, with a quiet and dignified compassion that stood him in good stead dealing with the bereaved. But he was a plainspoken elf from a working-class family, and he had no ability to see the angles. "It's been obvious since Othala Celehar got here, Dach'othala Vernezar doesn't like him. Which goes to show you what sort of man Othala Vernezar is. If he'd protect a prelate he doesn't like, he'd be a better man and there wouldn't be such a muddle over rank and hierarchy. I don't see how Dach'othala Vernezar failing to protect a prelate he doesn't like is any worse than anything else he's done since he became Ulisothala of Amalo."
"There is an old rule of politics, which is that internal matters should stay internal," Vidrezhen said. "Think about it in family terms. A man who has a dispute with his children, or who plays favorites, is sad to see and hard for the children to bear. A man choosing to support an outsider at the expense of one of his own children—especially when the child has done nothing wrong—is a different matter."
Erlenar sat back, ears flat; the metaphor had apparently struck a chord. But then, in some ways poorer families were more intent on household unity than wealthier ones; for the wealthy, unity could be a matter of political and monetary advantage. For the poor, it was life-and-death. The sextons, too, ranged around the room, seemed much struck by Vidrezhen's words.
"We don't often get disputes over wills and inheritance here," Daibrohar said. "Or at least not ones that anyone outside the family will pay attention to, because so few of them have any wealth or power or influence to make anyone take note. But what of the wealthier cemeteries? When there is trouble, the prelate may be drawn in even if they are not a Witness—if they are called to sit with someone as they are dying, for example, and things are said in their hearing. If Dach'othala Vernezar will favor a fraudster over a prelate merely because he dislikes the prelate … might he not also do so if the fraud in question has power or connections?"
"And Witnesses are often slandered by those who dislike the truth," Anora said. "Mostly it is mere grumbling, disaffected whispers. But it does sometimes result in spurious accusations of misconduct. In such cases, the first step should be to establish the facts of the matter and see what evidence there is. Bring in other Witnesses—from other jurisdictions, so they can be impartial, if necessary—to examine the matter. Trial by ordeal should be reserved for cases where the evidence is inconclusive but suggestive of real wrongdoing. Not a first response before any facts are known."
"Celehar should have had a Witness of his own, shouldn't he," Erlenar said.
"Long before any question of Trial by Ordeal came about, certainly," Daibrohar said.
"And that is the fault of the Prince," Vidrezhen said. "Prelates are under the jurisdiction of the Amal'othala, but witnesses are under the jurisdiction of the Prince. Othala Celehar, in his role as clerical Witness, is just as much subject to the Prince as he is to the prelacy. If the prelacy was not going to shield Othala Celehar from baseless slander, the Prince should have stepped in."
Erlenar shook his head. "It's a bad business."
"And rather more worrying than simple internal strife," Anora said. "There's nothing to be done about it now, of course, but …" he could not say that it measurably lowered his trust in Vernezar's judgment, even though it was true, "… if the Ulisothala cannot be trusted to speak for his people even against outsiders, and neither will the Amal'othala, that is something that … should be taken into account by any prelate under their authority."
"And that the Prince will not either is something Witnesses should know," Vidrezhen said grimly.
There was not much to say, after that, and besides, there was more than enough work to keep them all busy. So after a few more words about how shocking the whole affair was and how seriously their leaders both sacred and secular had abrogated their duties, the little gathering broke up.
Anora watched them go knowing that the story would spread through the prelacy, and perhaps to the judicial Witnesses as well. He did not expect it to change anything, and Thara would prefer to forget it all; but anyone with a right to the Ulisothala or Amal'othala's protection needed to know that was even flimsier than one might guess from their ordinary intrigues.
Anora was surprised, a week later, when an invitation came in the mail for tea at the Silk Blossom teahouse. It was a very nice teahouse, but not too expensive for the prelate of a municipal cemetery's salary. Despite its distance from the Airman's Quarter it was a thoughtful touch, for it was several cuts below the sort of place his host would normally frequent. Othala Ezhanar was the prelate of a small and exclusive private cemetery that served mostly the families of the owners of the airship companies.
He was waiting for Anora in a little alcove with sufficient distance from the other tables that they did not need to fear being overheard. He stood to greet him, which was more courtesy than the moneyed prelates usually showed the 'mere' municipal prelates. "Othala Chanavar, we thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to come all this way."
"Thank you for the invitation, Othala Ezhanar," Anora replied. "We are always glad to confer with our colleagues."
Ezhanar made a noncommittal hum, and looked up to thank the girl who brought the tea.
The conversation wound desultorily around several topics—the weather, mischief that novices and sextons got up to when left unsupervised, troublesome things parishioners had said and done recently, the intricacies of various rites and the planning required, all the things that prelates gossiped about when they gathered. Anora worked closely enough with his under-prelates that he had no shortage of such shop-talk, but he didn't mind more of it, and Ezhanar worked largely alone and thus had few opportunities to indulge in it.
At last the conversation came around to the heart of the matter. "We were surprised," Ezhanar said delicately, "to hear you so wholeheartedly denouncing Dach'othala Vernezar and the Amal'othala. We know you are good friends with Othala Celehar, but it seems a trifle … indiscreet of you, to champion him so directly."
And there it was. Anora was surprised that his colleague was so blunt about the matter. Still, he appreciated it, and decided to respond in kind. "It has nothing to do with our friendship; indeed, despite Vernezar's fears, Thara has no ambitions or desire for anything but a simple life following his calling. His greatest desire is to be left alone, and that everyone forget about him entirely. When he hears how we have been stirring the pot, he will be deeply unhappy, and we do not look forward to his hurt and dismay."
The twitching of Ezhanar's ears was the only thing that gave away his disbelief; his face was perfectly placid. "Then we wonder even more at your actions."
Anora shrugged. "We are as safe from his ire and his machinations as any cleric of Ulis in this city can be. We have nothing that he wants, he has very little that we want, our parishioners are mostly satisfied with our work, and our office is large enough that we never work alone and thus would have witnesses against any slander brought against us. But very few others of our calling can say the same." Ezhanar certainly could not—his prelacy was rich, and brought him into regular contact with some of the wealthiest and most powerful families in Amalo. And, given its small size, Ezhanar often worked alone.
"Vernezar only works against those he dislikes," Ezhanar said. "If Othala Celehar were better at getting on his good side, the whole thing could have been avoided."
"First, justice should not depend on whether one is on one's superior's good side; if it does, it is not justice. Whether or not Vernezar likes Celehar should have nothing to do with whether or not he supports him against baseless slander from outsiders. The difference between a true accusation of wrongdoing and baseless slander is that a true accusation is only possible if one acts improperly. But anyone can be a victim of slander." Anora held Ezhanar's eye until he acknowledged that with a slight grimace and a flick of his ears.
"Second," Anora said, "Vernezar does not only work against those he dislikes. He works against anyone he sees as a threat to his ambitions … or who has something he might see benefit from or profit in." He took a sip of tea, to let that point sink in. "We are safe because we have nothing he wants, and nobody he wishes to reward would thank him for receiving our prelacy if he removed us from it through some scheme."
And that was not a protection that Ezhanar could count on. Anora did not have to say that directly. Ezhanar was well-versed in hearing the unsaid, and Anora could see from the flat set of his ears that he took the point. The Ulineisei of Amalo had become used to many things that should have been scandalous. This might be merely one more … except that it was one that should have every Ulinese prelate taking stock of what sort of support they might receive if they were slandered.
All in all, Anora was well-pleased with the meeting. The municipal prelates had long been unhappy with the darker side of Dach'othala Vernezar's machinations. But Vernezar cared little for their opinion of him. The only thing that might chasten him—and even then, it was a faint hope—was the disapproval of the prelates holding the richer and older prelacies.
Anora had no desire to climb any further in the hierarchy than he already had; his post suited him, and he wished only to remain in it until his retirement. But Vernezar offended him, and he wished for the ulimeire to be better, to be worthy of the god they served. No, Thara would not be pleased when he learned of Anora's actions, but they were necessary.
This one incident, by itself, was unlikely to prove decisive in any way. But any high ground was worth seizing, in the cesspit of the ulimeire's politics, and pointing out the moral bankruptcy of Vernezar's actions was always worth doing, lest people forget how very wrong he could be.
Author: Beatrice_otter
Fandom: The Goblin Emperor Series – Katherine Addison
Rating: Gen
Length: 2337 words
Summary: The Ulineisei of Amalo are a nest of vipers. Thara may not see the implications of the Ulisothala's treatment of him, but Anora can.
On tumblr. On AO3. On Pillowfort.
Anora watched his friend Thara walk blearily out of his office and frowned in frustration and worry. Thara was a good man of deep virtue and compassion, who was yet ill-equipped to be anything but frankly truthful. And in the snake pit that was the politics of the prelates of Amalo, that was a grave fault indeed. Thara accepted this and, in turn, accepted treatment that he should not. Anora had begun worrying for his friend's future here not long after they had first become friends, when it became clear to him just how ill-equipped and unwilling Thara was to advocate for himself.
But this went beyond—far beyond—mere ill-treatment of Thara himself, for all Thara seemed not to see it.
As he had expected, all three of his prelates (and the sextons who assisted them in the heavier work) had gathered in the main office. The whole affair—all the affairs, the Duhaladeise rumors, the ghoul, the trial by ordeal—were items of gossip within the Amal'theilineise and without it, and as Thara's closest friend Anora was a prime source of news.
"Any details about the ghoul?" Vidrezhen cocked her head. "The Dithoraneise patriarch is ailing, and uncertain as to which rites he would prefer when the inevitable happens. A good ghoul story might nudge him into a cremation."
"'Good' is perhaps not the right word …" Daibrohar muttered.
"Gory, more like," Erlenar said.
"The details should all be in the newspapers, with embroidery," Anora said. "That should be sufficient, and if you wish for the un-embroidered details you may ask him yourself." He paused, considering what they needed to know. "The Duhaladeise case is less sensational, but more pressing. The eldest son, cut out of his father's will, forged a will more to his liking. Othala Celehar, called in to witness for the dead father, found that the father's spirit still remembered the name of the child he had made his heir, thus revealing which son was the forger. The eldest son, with no hope of escaping the consequences of his own dishonesty, chose to dig a deeper hole for himself and accuse the Witness of fraud. With no evidence against the Witness, and much circumstantial evidence of the eldest son's own fraud. And all authorities—the Ulisothala, the Amal'othala, the Prince himself—chose to hang Othala Celehar out to dry and required to prove his innocence in a Trial by Ordeal. With, we remind you, no evidence of any misconduct on his part, and much evidence of his accuser's misconduct."
Erlenar shook his head. "Sad business, very sad," he said.
"Scandalous, more like," Vidrezhen said. She was from an old, conservative family, and had been well educated in social nuance. She did not like to play political games (and her family did not like to be reminded that she had dedicated herself to Ulis instead of marrying or serving a more appropriate deity for a lady), which was why she was a junior prelate in a municipal cemetery in the poorest quarter of the city. But she could always be counted on to see all the angles. "It's an attack on the authority of every prelate of Ulis and every Witness in Amalo."
"Now, that seems a bit excessive," Erlenar protested. He was a good man, very pious and devoted to his duties, with a quiet and dignified compassion that stood him in good stead dealing with the bereaved. But he was a plainspoken elf from a working-class family, and he had no ability to see the angles. "It's been obvious since Othala Celehar got here, Dach'othala Vernezar doesn't like him. Which goes to show you what sort of man Othala Vernezar is. If he'd protect a prelate he doesn't like, he'd be a better man and there wouldn't be such a muddle over rank and hierarchy. I don't see how Dach'othala Vernezar failing to protect a prelate he doesn't like is any worse than anything else he's done since he became Ulisothala of Amalo."
"There is an old rule of politics, which is that internal matters should stay internal," Vidrezhen said. "Think about it in family terms. A man who has a dispute with his children, or who plays favorites, is sad to see and hard for the children to bear. A man choosing to support an outsider at the expense of one of his own children—especially when the child has done nothing wrong—is a different matter."
Erlenar sat back, ears flat; the metaphor had apparently struck a chord. But then, in some ways poorer families were more intent on household unity than wealthier ones; for the wealthy, unity could be a matter of political and monetary advantage. For the poor, it was life-and-death. The sextons, too, ranged around the room, seemed much struck by Vidrezhen's words.
"We don't often get disputes over wills and inheritance here," Daibrohar said. "Or at least not ones that anyone outside the family will pay attention to, because so few of them have any wealth or power or influence to make anyone take note. But what of the wealthier cemeteries? When there is trouble, the prelate may be drawn in even if they are not a Witness—if they are called to sit with someone as they are dying, for example, and things are said in their hearing. If Dach'othala Vernezar will favor a fraudster over a prelate merely because he dislikes the prelate … might he not also do so if the fraud in question has power or connections?"
"And Witnesses are often slandered by those who dislike the truth," Anora said. "Mostly it is mere grumbling, disaffected whispers. But it does sometimes result in spurious accusations of misconduct. In such cases, the first step should be to establish the facts of the matter and see what evidence there is. Bring in other Witnesses—from other jurisdictions, so they can be impartial, if necessary—to examine the matter. Trial by ordeal should be reserved for cases where the evidence is inconclusive but suggestive of real wrongdoing. Not a first response before any facts are known."
"Celehar should have had a Witness of his own, shouldn't he," Erlenar said.
"Long before any question of Trial by Ordeal came about, certainly," Daibrohar said.
"And that is the fault of the Prince," Vidrezhen said. "Prelates are under the jurisdiction of the Amal'othala, but witnesses are under the jurisdiction of the Prince. Othala Celehar, in his role as clerical Witness, is just as much subject to the Prince as he is to the prelacy. If the prelacy was not going to shield Othala Celehar from baseless slander, the Prince should have stepped in."
Erlenar shook his head. "It's a bad business."
"And rather more worrying than simple internal strife," Anora said. "There's nothing to be done about it now, of course, but …" he could not say that it measurably lowered his trust in Vernezar's judgment, even though it was true, "… if the Ulisothala cannot be trusted to speak for his people even against outsiders, and neither will the Amal'othala, that is something that … should be taken into account by any prelate under their authority."
"And that the Prince will not either is something Witnesses should know," Vidrezhen said grimly.
There was not much to say, after that, and besides, there was more than enough work to keep them all busy. So after a few more words about how shocking the whole affair was and how seriously their leaders both sacred and secular had abrogated their duties, the little gathering broke up.
Anora watched them go knowing that the story would spread through the prelacy, and perhaps to the judicial Witnesses as well. He did not expect it to change anything, and Thara would prefer to forget it all; but anyone with a right to the Ulisothala or Amal'othala's protection needed to know that was even flimsier than one might guess from their ordinary intrigues.
Anora was surprised, a week later, when an invitation came in the mail for tea at the Silk Blossom teahouse. It was a very nice teahouse, but not too expensive for the prelate of a municipal cemetery's salary. Despite its distance from the Airman's Quarter it was a thoughtful touch, for it was several cuts below the sort of place his host would normally frequent. Othala Ezhanar was the prelate of a small and exclusive private cemetery that served mostly the families of the owners of the airship companies.
He was waiting for Anora in a little alcove with sufficient distance from the other tables that they did not need to fear being overheard. He stood to greet him, which was more courtesy than the moneyed prelates usually showed the 'mere' municipal prelates. "Othala Chanavar, we thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to come all this way."
"Thank you for the invitation, Othala Ezhanar," Anora replied. "We are always glad to confer with our colleagues."
Ezhanar made a noncommittal hum, and looked up to thank the girl who brought the tea.
The conversation wound desultorily around several topics—the weather, mischief that novices and sextons got up to when left unsupervised, troublesome things parishioners had said and done recently, the intricacies of various rites and the planning required, all the things that prelates gossiped about when they gathered. Anora worked closely enough with his under-prelates that he had no shortage of such shop-talk, but he didn't mind more of it, and Ezhanar worked largely alone and thus had few opportunities to indulge in it.
At last the conversation came around to the heart of the matter. "We were surprised," Ezhanar said delicately, "to hear you so wholeheartedly denouncing Dach'othala Vernezar and the Amal'othala. We know you are good friends with Othala Celehar, but it seems a trifle … indiscreet of you, to champion him so directly."
And there it was. Anora was surprised that his colleague was so blunt about the matter. Still, he appreciated it, and decided to respond in kind. "It has nothing to do with our friendship; indeed, despite Vernezar's fears, Thara has no ambitions or desire for anything but a simple life following his calling. His greatest desire is to be left alone, and that everyone forget about him entirely. When he hears how we have been stirring the pot, he will be deeply unhappy, and we do not look forward to his hurt and dismay."
The twitching of Ezhanar's ears was the only thing that gave away his disbelief; his face was perfectly placid. "Then we wonder even more at your actions."
Anora shrugged. "We are as safe from his ire and his machinations as any cleric of Ulis in this city can be. We have nothing that he wants, he has very little that we want, our parishioners are mostly satisfied with our work, and our office is large enough that we never work alone and thus would have witnesses against any slander brought against us. But very few others of our calling can say the same." Ezhanar certainly could not—his prelacy was rich, and brought him into regular contact with some of the wealthiest and most powerful families in Amalo. And, given its small size, Ezhanar often worked alone.
"Vernezar only works against those he dislikes," Ezhanar said. "If Othala Celehar were better at getting on his good side, the whole thing could have been avoided."
"First, justice should not depend on whether one is on one's superior's good side; if it does, it is not justice. Whether or not Vernezar likes Celehar should have nothing to do with whether or not he supports him against baseless slander from outsiders. The difference between a true accusation of wrongdoing and baseless slander is that a true accusation is only possible if one acts improperly. But anyone can be a victim of slander." Anora held Ezhanar's eye until he acknowledged that with a slight grimace and a flick of his ears.
"Second," Anora said, "Vernezar does not only work against those he dislikes. He works against anyone he sees as a threat to his ambitions … or who has something he might see benefit from or profit in." He took a sip of tea, to let that point sink in. "We are safe because we have nothing he wants, and nobody he wishes to reward would thank him for receiving our prelacy if he removed us from it through some scheme."
And that was not a protection that Ezhanar could count on. Anora did not have to say that directly. Ezhanar was well-versed in hearing the unsaid, and Anora could see from the flat set of his ears that he took the point. The Ulineisei of Amalo had become used to many things that should have been scandalous. This might be merely one more … except that it was one that should have every Ulinese prelate taking stock of what sort of support they might receive if they were slandered.
All in all, Anora was well-pleased with the meeting. The municipal prelates had long been unhappy with the darker side of Dach'othala Vernezar's machinations. But Vernezar cared little for their opinion of him. The only thing that might chasten him—and even then, it was a faint hope—was the disapproval of the prelates holding the richer and older prelacies.
Anora had no desire to climb any further in the hierarchy than he already had; his post suited him, and he wished only to remain in it until his retirement. But Vernezar offended him, and he wished for the ulimeire to be better, to be worthy of the god they served. No, Thara would not be pleased when he learned of Anora's actions, but they were necessary.
This one incident, by itself, was unlikely to prove decisive in any way. But any high ground was worth seizing, in the cesspit of the ulimeire's politics, and pointing out the moral bankruptcy of Vernezar's actions was always worth doing, lest people forget how very wrong he could be.
