(Two days later)

  The guards standing outside the room could only cringe in discomfort as they listened to a fresh round of diatribe taking place. The delegates from each country had gone into the meeting room and had only exited each day so they could sleep. Not even when the servants had brought food and drink to relieve the ambassadors could alleviate the arguments. The yelling was muffled but considering the room had been designed to be soundproof from the inside….

  “I will not stand for this Pontifex”, Frode, the lynx-man growled out, “The island of Ode is the closest nation to the demonic hordes. We have the greatest need for the Sky hero’s power. To send the Halcyonic hero to the Rathborians would merely be a sign of decadence rather than prudence.”

  Tightening his hands at the accusation, General Titus ground out, “While the Empire isn’t quite as close to the hordes as Ode, we have greater need of that power. With us being the larger country and more of a prime target, the demons will be attempting to destroy us even harder than your gods forsaken icy wasteland”, a growl emanated from Frode’s mouth, but Titus wasn’t done, “Besides, the Halcyonic hero’s power works best when he has access to sunlight, and you being such a northern country, Ode is rather lacking.”

  Schaffen’s ambassador, Friedrich interjected, “While that is not untrue, General, the Halcyonic hero has power over the whole sky, and not just when conditions are fair. Applying your logic, my own country would be a better fit for Mr. Grant than anyone here.”

  The veiled woman, Manya tentatively raised her hand, “If I might make a suggestion, vhile ve are busy arguing about ze placement of the strongest, perhaps it vould behoove us to decide on the placement of the more unusual heroes.”

  The ambassadors whose arguing had grown rather heated leaned back in their chairs and through their frustration found reason in what the veiled Cestnyan’s words.

  (Two days ago)

  After the various ambassadors and their people had rested and gotten some food and drink into their stomachs, it was time for business. Everyone had come to select a hero to take back to their home and stave off the demons, and they weren’t going to leave until they got what they needed. They soon gathered inside a room, the size of a cathedral, in balcony seats surrounding a room that looked blank, but magic could be felt pulsing in the stones. The ambassadors who had visited the city in the past recalled the room, and with varying thoughts on the matter, had it remind them of a place of bloodsport.

  Raising his hands, the Pontifex addressed the room, “Ambassadors from the chosen nations, I shall not dither in the purpose for this visit. Once again, we find ourselves in a fight for our very lives against the demons and their corrupted armies. These heroes, drawn from realms unknown have time and again proven to be our greatest weapon against them. And while it may concern many how the demons have made greater headway into our homes than in wars past, you may rest assured that with the training and power these heroes have been blessed, this war will be over soon and we will triumph as one over those who have forsaken which the gods have given”, after his short speech, he gestured at the ground below, “First we will introduce our Hero of the Freedom god, Lycentia, Thomas Reily.”

  Thomas was a man in his late teens, with dark, shaggy hair, but bright blue eyes. He had a very easygoing look about him and a smile that made you want to like him. He wore a bright yellow tunic and rather than a weapon, he carried a violin. In front of him, a door opened and two guards led in, a man who practically had to be dragged as he thrashed and screamed. He had scratch marks on his face and shoulders. It was explained the man was the victim of a demonic possession. A Terror demon had attacked him and while able to avoid outright Corruption, he had a piece of the demon’s presence stuck in his mind, causing him to live like he was stuck in a constant nightmare.

  Drawing his bow across the strings of his violin, an almost tangible sense of calm passed over the room. Thomas vocalized a certain set of notes that caused the man to stop thrashing and a look of realization crossed over his face.

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  ‘The domain of Freedom, while not specialized in combat, and often looked down on since its followers used its power to make themselves into better artists or artisans, has a peculiar hidden power. Though it was almost purely used for support, someone who truly understood the power of Freedom could be used to liberate people from compulsions. Any magic that influenced people to think or act a certain way against their will could be brought to their senses. And if someone found their magic stunted due to lack of spirit, the hero of Freedom can invigorate them to action’, It was these words that echoed in Thomas’ mind as his music reached into the man’s psyche to draw out and isolate the remnants of demonic influence. With a final scream, a black mist came out of the man’s nose and mouth as a snarling face flew forward to try and attack the Freedom hero. Right before it could touch him, the face exploded into small particles of burning ash as the Pontifex lowered a glowing hand.

  The previously demented man broke down in tears and clung to Thomas, thanking him profusely for finally ridding him of the demon that had tormented him for so long. The doors reopened, and wrapping a hand around the man’s shoulder, Thomas escorted him out of the room with a smile.

  (Back in the debate room)

  “Mr. Reily’s ability to prevent demonic influence and possession is rather strong”, the ambassador Yusuf from Mahad Alhadara observed, “Even if it does not directly harm the infernal creatures, his ability to stunt their abilities could be valuable.”

  Frode stroked his furry chin, “Plus his ability to spur other species to action when he plays his music could be useful with smaller armies against larger forces.”

  “While that is true,” General Titus interjected, “The Freedom hero has rarely been a fighter. His domain is purely support. Perhaps it would be better to assign him where he can easily ensure demonic forces aren’t slipping past our armies.”

  Nodding thoughtfully, Manya concurred, “While his talents may still be latent, keeping such power in reserve may be prudent. Cestny shall take him.”

  Friederich straightened up, “Lady Manya, while I can understand this, I believe Mr. Reilly would be better suited for my country. The Freedom hero’s ability to inspire creativity is a boon which a country of artisans finds invaluable. Schaffen will take Mr. Reilly. Besides, I believe the hero Briggs would be more suited for your country.

  (Back in the display room)

  Walking out after Thomas Reilly, there came a man in his late twenties who despite his age, had silver hair. He was introduced as Crawford Briggs, hero of the Justice god, Aequitasia. Between the dissonance of his age, appearance and the grim demeanor he presented himself with, he looked every bit the part of a Justice official. He was presented with two criminals, both accused of committing the same crime, the assault and robbery that led to the death of two people. One of the men looked terrified, “Please, I swear, I’m not a part of this! I’m innocent!”

  While the other man wasn’t phased in the slightest, he practically looked bored with the whole demonstration. The scared man gave testimony how, while it didn’t absolve him of involvement, he testified to having spilled no blood and even tried to stop the fight. The other man readily admitted that he had been a part of the robbery and even confessed to being the one to kill the people they robbed. Briggs asked a series of questions about who was where at any given time. How many times did they stab each person, with which hand and so on. One of the major aspects of the power of Justice was the concept of Oaths. Whatever conditions were imposed and sworn by, the one who swore his oath was expected to carry it out, lest they incur heavy penalties.

  Briggs took a moment to close his eyes, and everyone could see the gears turning in his head. He pointed at the bored man and said, “You’re lying. Despite your reputation as a robber, you made an oath that you wouldn’t hurt the people you robbed because of a fear of blood. And judging by the state of your spirit, you still have yet to spill any.”

  The previously unflappable man’s eyes widened as Briggs turned to the frightened man, “And you… Your guilt plagues your mind. You were the one to hurt the people you robbed. Most likely, they fought back harder than you expected, you became scared, and you reacted.”

  The man’s already broken posture slumped even further as tears fell from his eyes, “It was an accident, I swear”, his voice cracked, “I just w-wanted the money. But he started charging at me and… and.”

  He broke down weeping as the truth came out. and The veiled woman from Cestny straightened up as Briggs turned to the people in the balcony , “This man has spilled blood, but his intentions were not malicious. And his partner, clearly unafraid of punishment, but afraid for his friend, was willing to take the fall.”

  With nothing further to say, the two men were escorted out and Briggs walked resolutely behind them.