is severely punished. And it doesn’t matter that the boy, despite his young age, has already earned the right to carry a weapon and that, in the end, it was he who beat up the attackers. In this case, what matters is what they did. If they’d challenged Einar, there wouldn’t even be this conversation and the whole situation would have been dismissed with a simple, “Oh, right”.’
‘What are they facing for this?’ The sergeant spoke up this time.
‘It depends on how they’re judged.’ Einar and Tahon were standing behind one of the shelves, out of sight. ‘If Olaf’s the one judging them, I doubt it’ll end with a lighter punishment than the loss of a hand. Especially as it involves his son.’
‘And how else might they be judged?’ The legate spoke now without his earlier anger, a sombre acceptance creeping into his tone.
‘By the so-called judgment of the gods.’ The mighty captain seemed to shudder. ‘In that case, the verdict is impossible to predict.’
‘The judgment of the gods?’ Curiously, curiosity prevailed over all other emotions in the First Officer’s voice. ‘How does that work?’
‘The druids make an offering on a special altar, asking the gods to look upon the accused and pass judgement. Deu’cesum works in a similar way here. Only here, it will never be entirely clear which god will answer the call.’ The captain fell silent for a moment. ‘I once heard of a judgment of the gods, where Solas himself punished the guilty party.’
‘And what’s best for us?’ Livitus spoke up this time. He seemed to be picking up the new customs quickly.
‘As I said, if Olaf is the judge, losing a hand is the mildest punishment.’ Alrik didn’t seem at all keen to answer that question. ‘However, the gods may decide that the mark of a coward, or something similar, will suffice.’
‘And in the worst-case scenario?’ Xives took a deeper breath.
‘Death in both cases.’ Einar could have bet that the captain had spread his hands helplessly.
‘If you had to guess, how would the gods
