Sergeant Thorne

This story is considered Canon

It had been two weeks, and not once had someone come to empty the bucket in the corner that served as a latrine. Valentine had covered her nose and mouth with a makeshift kerchief fashioned from her shirt sleeve, but even so the odor burned her nostrils. It was the sort of thing one never gets used to, at least not in a way that allowed you to stop smelling it. Humane treatment of prisoners, indeed… thought Val with a snort of annoyance. You’d have thought that the Idyll Keepers would offer better care for one of their own, but you’d be wrong. Once on the other side of the bars, prisoners like Valentine were welcome to the same treatment by their jailors as any other criminal, if not worse; apparently the insult of having once been one of them before being judged guilty was enough to earn former magistrates more vitriol than the average rapist or murderer. Maybe it was the perceived betrayal of trust, the so-called “violation” of the sanctity of law enforcement, that painted them as the lowest of the low. And forget camaraderie with other inmates: to them, you were always a cop, no matter what the law actually thought.
Perhaps Valentine could have reconciled this logic, if it weren’t for the fact that she hadn’t really committed any crimes.
At least, not in the moral sense. But this was Oreion, and morality didn’t often factor into legal decisions. It was one of the things that had most disappointed Val when she’d joined the Idyll Keepers. In her mind, there should be some logic in the way justice was meted out, some consideration of circumstances. There should certainly be law, yes, but the intent of the law was paramount, not just the letters on the page. Not so in Oreion: the law was what was written, and what the authors may have intended was irrelevant.
Unless, of course, you had money or connections. Money and connections could encourage the law to be overlooked, or even rewritten. And unfortunately Val had had neither. And so it was that, on that fateful night two weeks prior, Valentine had been arrested for “collusion” with a known magic user (or, in other words, a known criminal) and locked in this dank, grimy cell.
Val leaned her head back against the wall of her cell, closing her eyes and trying to re-imagine their final evening together. She held on tightly to those last treasured memories, like a life preserver in the sea of uncertainty that had become her reality.
The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, flickering gently across the walls and drawn curtains, and the faces of the two women settled in the large, overstuffed armchair. The more slender of the two draped her arm lazily over the back of the seat, her eyes closed in a look of placid satisfaction as she took a slow sip from her wineglass. The other woman’s head rested comfortably on her lover’s lap, her legs dangling over the armrest, as she turned a page in the book she was reading. It wasn’t really the ideal space for two people to share, but that didn’t seem to bother either one.

Carmina yawned and absently ran her fingers through Val’s hair, gently combing out the dark brown strands and occasional wisp of grey. The grey had not been there the first time they’d met, and though Carmina looked much the same, it was a small signal that they’d both aged, both grown up. Ten years ago they’d both been so naive, so stupid and reckless, too eager to go too fast. When you try to cook something quickly and use too hot a flame, it is likely to burn, and so it was with them all those years ago. They had rushed things that needed to be taken slowly, and what could have been a fine dish was spoiled.

Not this time though. Though their reintroductions had been uncomfortable and tinged with shame, the awkwardness quickly gave way as each remembered why they had fallen for each other in the first place. Much had changed - change that needed to happen - and both Carmina and Valentine felt that this time they were building something worth keeping. This time was for real.

Or so it had felt. Less than an hour later there were knocks at Carmina’s door, and those few months of happiness were shattered in a matter of moments.

BOOM! In a shower of the splinters, the door was knocked right off its hinges. Valentine had fled to the back room at the first knocks, and so it was Carmina alone who stood her ground to face the intruders. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the moonlight outside, was a large, severe-looking figure with two Idyll Keepers in tow. In a grim, tightly controlled voice they asked, “Where is Sergeant Thorne?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about or where you got your information, but I’m the only one here right now,” said Carmina angrily, as the High Iudex’s two compatriots pushed past her and began searching the room, “And I don’t consent to a search of my property! I insist that you leave at once!”

The Iudex laughed bitterly. “The day I take the word of a witch is the day they put me down. We have good information that Sergeant Valentine Thorne has been seen entering these premises on more than one occasion, and not in a professional capacity. She is well aware that Idyll Keepers are not to associate with known criminals. She has been warned.”

“Known criminals? That’s an accusation I’d like to see you back up,” fumed Carmina, a breeze tousling her silvery hair, as it often did when she was angry, “I run a legitimate business-”

“You are an unregistered magic user and if I had the evidence to prove it you’d be in prison already,” shouted the Iudex, “There is nothing legitimate about the black arts you practice here or anywhere else. You, Miss Esa, are what is spreading rot and disease through our nation. You are everything that is wrong with our society.”

Carmina opened her mouth to respond, but just then a voice in the back room shouted, “I’ve got her!” A moment later, one of the Idyll Keepers emerged, leading a struggling Valentine behind him. Her face was inscrutable, looking at once livid and frightened and defiant.

“So. Sergeant Thorne. How nice to see you this evening,” said the Iudex, icily. “I thought I’d made myself quite clear about your… ‘friendship’ with this blight.”

“I assure you, this was a purely professional call. I was following up on a lead regarding illicit activity at this address. I-”

“Silence.” The word was barely a whisper, but Valentine quailed under the force of it. One of the Idyll Keepers pushed Valentine in the back, forcing her to her knees. “Thorne, you were warned. I will not have you compromise the integrity of this great nation and its laws by flouting the rules and values we seek to uphold. You were told to stay away, to end whatever kind of association you have with this creature. You told me I had nothing to worry about. And yet I find you here.”

Valentine started to mumble a further denial, but the Iudex interrupted her with a hard slap across the face.

“No!” Carmina cried out as blood dripped from Valentine’s mouth, and she made to go toward her until her way was barred by the second Idyll Keeper. She tried to fight her way through, but he was too strong for her, and she was left to stand there watching helplessly.

“Valentine Thorne,” said the Iudex in a voice of pure disgust, “you are hereby stripped of the rank of sergeant and expelled from the Idyll Keepers. As further punishment for your dishonesty and deliberate disobedience of direct orders from a superior officer - which, I might remind you, amounts to treason - you will be incarcerated for as long as I see fit. You won’t be seeing anyone or anything except the inside of a prison until such time as you are tried and sentenced. And I’m afraid the courts are rather… backed up right now.”

Valentine swallowed, tasting blood and tears in her mouth, but she refused to let them break her. When she lifted her head, her face was stony and defiant. “Do what you must, but I have done nothing wrong. I will not apologize for whom I choose to love.” The moment of dissent did not last, however, as a sharp kick to the gut forced her to the ground and into unconsciousness.
Val knew there would be no real trial, no real justice. Her life hung on the whim of the system, and it seemed inclined to teach her a lesson. She wondered desperately what had happened to Carmina. The last she’d seen before blacking out was Carmina being restrained as she tried to fight her way to Val. Valentine hoped she hadn’t fought too hard; she knew the officers would not have hesitated to hurt her if she showed any sign of trying to use magic to defend herself or her lover. But so far no one had told her anything at all, and so the anxiety over her beloved’s fate sat like a stone in the pit of her stomach.
Trying to distract herself in these hours of monotony, Valentine had thought of her family. She wondered if they’d heard about her arrest, if they would try to advocate for her. If anyone knew where to scour the Oreion archives for obscure legal precedent, it would be her father. Her mouth twitched into a half smile as she pictured Timothy Thorne, round spectacles perched precariously atop his balding pate, squinting at the spines of books as he balanced on a rolling ladder some twenty feet above the library floor. Yes, he would know exactly where to look… if he’d ventured out of his study long enough to have face-to-face contact with another living person. As for her mother, the last Valentine had heard, Dr. Valindra Thorne was spending a semester as a visiting professor of history at the Phoenix Academy - it was unlikely that she’d heard anything, or that she would’ve remembered to open her mail if word had been sent. Valentine knew that her parents loved her very much, and wouldn’t believe that she was a criminal, but she was also used to being forgotten in favour of the thrill of academia. They didn’t mean to do it, but it’s difficult to tear two passionate scholars away from the pursuit of learning, even for their only daughter.
Valentine was just resigning herself to the prospect of yet another nap - there wasn’t much else to do - when she heard footsteps approaching. As she looked up, she was surprised to see a friendly face. Tristen Moreau, once a youngblood in her unit, had become both a valuable ally in a crisis and a good friend. While it had been months since they’d last spoken, the knot in Val’s stomach loosened somewhat as he came nearer - at least, until she saw his expression. Tristen’s usually cheerful face was creased with anguish, his grey eyes meeting hers in a way that suggested shame.
“What are you doing here?” croaked Val uncertainly.
“Thorne, I…” Tristen closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, intentionally. “Thorne, I’m so sorry. I hate that they’ve chosen me for this. I need you to know that.”
“For what? What’s going on, Tristen?” Panic had begun to colour Valentine’s voice.
Tristen let out another slow, measured breath. “First, they’ve decided not to execute you.”
Valentine’s heart skipped a beat. It was more than she could’ve hoped for. “But that’s good. Isn’t it?”
“Thorne… Val.” Tristen’s gaze was pleading. “You’re to undergo tranquility. You know what that means.”
“I-” Her mouth had gone dry.
“That’s not all, Val. After it’s…done - they’re sending you to the front. There’s civil war and… and they need people…”
“Need people?” choked Valentine, “They don’t need people. They need cannon fodder. So that’s it then? They’re taking everything from me and tossing me out there like a rag doll ready to be hacked to pieces?”
“I’m so sorry, Valentine,” said Tristen, “I- It’s cruel. It’s not just execution, it’s one last humiliation for your…your betrayal.” Valentine let out a laugh that was half a sob. “Betrayal? Do you really think that, Tris?”
Tristen was quiet for a long time, apparently studying the ground. “It’s… not up to me to think anything. You broke the law, Thorne. The law that we swore to uphold.”
“Wake up, Tristen!” shouted Valentine desperately, “The laws of this place are rotten! They’re supposed to protect people, but it’s all a front for control! All I did was fall in love, Tris. Do you really think that merits the punishment they have planned for me?”
As Tristen’s gaze met hers again, his eyes shone and his voice shook. “I’m so sorry, Thorne. But it isn’t up to me.”
Valentine’s heart fell, but as he turned to leave she reached out and caught hold of his shoulder. “Wait! Tristen, tell me. Is Carmina OK?”
She should have known. She should have known when he didn’t turn around. She should have known that something was terribly, horribly wrong. But still she had hoped.
“Valentine… After you were incarcerated, she… she lost it. Marched to the Halycon Tribunal and…”
“And what, Tris?”
“Felfire. Great white flames, consuming everything they touched. They were lucky to subdue her before she burned the whole thing to ash.”
“Subdue her? Tristen, what did they do?” When he hesitated, she shook his shoulder, her voice wild with fear. “What did they do to her?”
“I didn’t see it. I don’t know exactly. But according to my superiors, she’s been…dealt with.”
Val’s hand slipped from Tristen’s shoulder as she backed away in horror. She collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath and reeling with despair that both numbed and pierced her like a blade. Valentine’s wails of anguish echoed alongside the clanking of Tristen’s armor as he fled, as Valentine’s last shred of hope left her.