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Chapter 181: The Redeemed Sisters of Justice Hall
🕑 Added 2025-03-02 13:46:47 +0000 UTC"Have you truly resolved to forsake everything? Are you willing to devote your lives to the path of redemption, to follow the Chosen of the Seven, and to face the legendary final winter?"
Sister Melessa stood before the altar in the chapel of the Motherhouse, now clad in her ceremonial’s robes. Sunlight streamed through the circular stained-glass window behind her, casting the shadow of the Seven-Pointed Star upon her, making her appear almost divine.
Kneeling before her were seven novices dressed in their apprentice robes, while around them gathered the Congregation of the Redeemed Sisters, assembled to witness the ceremony.
Though all present belonged to the Redeemed Sisters, they hailed from different sanctuaries, each dedicated to one of the Seven. The Father’s Sanctuary wore pure white robes, the Mother’s Sanctuary donned blue, the Warrior’s Sanctuary red, the Maiden’s Sanctuary green, the Smith’s Sanctuary red with black trim, the Crone’s Sanctuary gray with white trim, and the Stranger’s Sanctuary black with white trim. Each sanctuary had sent a representative, filling the chapel to capacity.
Unlike the sisters of other septs, those from the Seven’s Sept carried with them a heavy, metal-bound holy scripture—The Seven-Pointed Star.
As its name suggested, the Seven-Pointed Star was entirely crafted from metal. Instead of parchment, its pages were sheets of hammered copper, each engraved with sacred texts, and its cover was a tin plate sheathed in copper.
In times of peace, the Seven-Pointed Star was used for prayer and preaching. But when battle called, the sisters could transform it into a weapon. By utilizing the specially designed cover, they could lock the scripture onto the end of a staff, fastening it securely with clasps to create a war hammer.
Though their robes covered them fully, glimpses through the fabric’s seams revealed that each sister wore form-fitting chainmail beneath. Their hands, clad in tin-iron alloy gauntlets, left no doubt—these were warrior nuns.
Combat training was as integral to their daily routine as prayer and scripture study. Every sister in the Motherhouse was required to master the use of war hammers, hand-and-a-half swords, and shields. They also trained in the art of entrapment, learning to wield lassos to subdue opponents.
Only those who passed rigorous combat trials, along with seven tests of self-examination and seven trials of divine grace, were deemed worthy to take the vow of redemption and become full-fledged Redeemed Sisters.
The trials were arduous. Among nearly a thousand nuns at the Motherhouse, fewer than fifty successfully completed the tests and ascended to the ranks of the Redeemed Sisters in the past two years.
However, that was beginning to change. The alchemists of Black Cave had developed a potion known as the Elixir of Divine Grace, specially formulated for women. It enhanced strength, making it easier to endure the trials—though at a severe cost. The potion inflicted excruciating pain upon those who took it.
To Sister Melessa, this was a blessing. Only those with unwavering faith and unshakable resolve could withstand such torment. The potion, therefore, became a divine means of selection, ensuring that only the most devoted would join their ranks.
The seven novices standing before her were the greatest testament to the potion’s effectiveness. Never before had so many sisters passed the trials at once—an occurrence so perfectly aligned with the sacred number seven that Melessa took it as a sign from the gods, proof of their approval of the Elixir of Divine Grace.
When she posed her question, the seven novices answered in solemn unison: "I am willing."
Melessa repeated the question twice more, and both times received the same unwavering response. Satisfied, she placed Lynd’s Scarlet Longsword Banner beneath the insignia of the Seven and had the novices recite their oath of redemption—an adapted version of the Night’s Watch vow.
Once the oath was spoken, she instructed them to remove their novice robes. Then, the senior Redeemed Sisters from each sanctuary stepped forward, presenting the chainmail, ceremonial robes, metal-bound scriptures, and sacred staves unique to their respective sanctuaries.
The novices then selected the sanctuary they wished to join, donning the appropriate vestments and armor.
But an awkward situation quickly arose—two novices each chose the Father’s and Mother’s Sanctuaries, while none opted for the Smith’s or the Stranger’s. As a result, the Father’s and Mother’s Sanctuaries had to hastily provide an extra set of equipment.
The Smith’s and Stranger’s Sanctuaries, however, were unbothered. In fact, they found the outcome quite favorable. Resources were allocated based on the number of sanctuaries, not the number of members. This meant that even though their numbers were fewer, they received the same amount of provisions as the larger sanctuaries, allowing their sisters to live far more comfortably.
“The Silent Monastery has already selected seven Silent Men to join the Chosen One’s guard. We must not fall behind. Each of you will select the strongest Redeeming Sister from your sanctuaries to join the guard as well,” Sister Melessa suddenly ordered as the Redeeming Sisters were preparing to depart.
“Yes, Sister Melessa,” the sisters responded in unison.
The next day, Sister Melessa led the seven chosen Redeeming Sisters out of the Motherhouse, heading toward the Town of Redemption.
...
In the Honey Pot House on Flower Street in the Town of Redemption, Ser Robin Vyrwel was carefully examining every detail in the room.
The body of the prostitute had already been removed by the garrison and sent to the Office of Justice. Although the garrison assigned to the case had been professionally trained to preserve the crime scene as much as possible while moving the body, many clues had inevitably been disturbed.
Fortunately, the disrupted clues were only minor ones and wouldn’t affect the final judgment. The more crucial evidence remained intact—enough for him to uncover the truth behind the case.
“Gino, Ralf, tell me—what do you see?” Though he had already deduced the truth and identified the murderer, Robin did not immediately order an arrest. Instead, he turned to the two apprentices trailing behind him and posed the question.
Ralf offered a straightforward analysis. “The victim didn’t struggle. The killer struck suddenly, slitting the throat with a blade. Then, they wiped away the bloodstains with a bedsheet and escaped through the window into the street outside. Everything matches what the proprietress of the Honey Pot House described. We should move quickly and pursue the killer.”
Robin said nothing, merely turning to Gino, waiting for his response.
“I agree with part of Ralf’s assessment—the killer did indeed act suddenly and slit the victim’s throat. But…” Gino trailed off, hesitating. A troubled expression crossed his face before he finally said, “Something feels off.”
“Something feels off?” Ralf scoffed, smirking. “Gino, are you trying to pull your usual ‘intuition’ trick to get through the assessment again? Last time, you managed to fool Ser Lymond with that nonsense. Now you think you can fool Ser Robin too?”
“I’m not making things up. There really is something strange here,” Gino said firmly, his brow furrowed.
Ralf opened his mouth, ready to fire off another jab, but Robin raised a hand to stop him. “Explain what you find strange.”
Gino took a deep breath, carefully stepping around the bloodstains as he approached the bed. Pointing to the blood-streaked bedsheet, he said, “The most unnatural thing here is the killer’s actions after the murder. Why did they wipe away the blood?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ralf scoffed. “To avoid being seen while escaping.”
Gino ignored his dismissive tone and continued his analysis. “But it was the middle of the night. There weren’t many people on the streets. Even if someone was around, the killer could have easily hidden in the shadows to avoid being seen. More importantly, the victim’s throat was cut from the front. Based on the blood spatter pattern, the killer would have been covered in blood. A sheet wouldn’t be enough to clean it off. The smartest move would have been to throw on a robe and a cloak before leaving. Wiping the blood was a waste of time.”
Ralf faltered, momentarily taken aback by Gino’s reasoning. Though Gino was his rival in the Office of Justice, and he often sought ways to undermine him in front of Ser Robin, he wasn’t one to ignore his duty. Now that Gino had pointed out the oddity, Ralf, too, began to recognize the inconsistencies—and certain details he had previously overlooked now seemed all the more suspicious.
“Someone deliberately staged this scene,” Ralf quickly revised his previous judgment.
Robin glanced at the two of them but offered no evaluation. Instead, he simply said, “I’ll leave this to you. Bring the murderer to the Office of Justice before nightfall.”
“Yes, my lord,” Gino and Ralf responded, exchanging satisfied smiles.
Robin turned and left the room, descending the stairs into the courtyard. He looked over at the individuals being held under the garrison’s watch and announced, “No one is leaving the Honey Pot House today. You will all remain here until tomorrow.”
A well-dressed traveling merchant hurried up to him, speaking in an urgent tone. “My lord, I am Casper from the Rose Merchant Company. My master, Ser Garlan of Highgarden, has ordered a shipment from Lord Lynd, and it’s due to arrive today—”
“That’s not my concern. I’m here for justice, nothing more,” Robin interrupted coldly. He barely spared the merchant a glance before pushing past him and exiting the Honey Pot House. As he stepped outside, his gaze lingered briefly on the proprietress before he turned away.
...
Robin walked directly toward Redemption Avenue, where the Office of Justice was located.
Redemption Avenue began at the Redemption Sept, cutting through the heart of the town before extending into the western territories of Summerhall. It intersected with Tumbleton Avenue in Green Valley, linking the lands of Summerhall and Tumbleton. Green Valley itself, however, had largely been overlooked in the grand scheme of things.
Lining both sides of the avenue were not only the administrative offices of Redemption Town but also the key departments governing all of Summerhall’s territories. Offices such as the Court of Justice, the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the Military and Political Affairs Office, and the Council Chamber were all located here. Only a few maritime-related departments, like the Admiralty and the Maritime Trade Guild, had their headquarters in Miracle Harbor instead.
Amid the grand offices of these major departments, the Office of Justice was remarkably unassuming—just a two-story wooden building with a small courtyard. Its location, however, was significant. To its left stood the Court of Justice, to its right, the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and behind it, the garrison barracks. These neighboring buildings were all made of solid brick and stone, making the Office of Justice seem awkwardly out of place, as if it had been wedged in as an afterthought.
Despite its modest appearance, no one underestimated the Office of Justice. It was an independent entity established by Lord Lynd, carved out of the authority of both the garrison and the Court of Justice.
The office’s jurisdiction was deliberately vague—it had the right to intervene in any case where its officers deemed justice to be at risk. In this particular instance, Robin had stepped in because he believed the garrison had handled the prostitute’s murder too carelessly, failing to uphold justice.
While the Office of Justice had no authority over trials or arrests, it wielded immense power when it came to issuing arrest warrants. Within Summerhall’s domain, only a select few—such as Lord Lynd and Lady Nymeria—were beyond its reach. For everyone else, the office had the authority to order an arrest and initiate proceedings.
A prime example of this power had occurred just a month ago when Ser Kyle Swann, the newly appointed commander of the cavalry regiment, was arrested and convicted by the Office of Justice for a murder within his own ranks.
To put this into perspective, after Summerhall’s standing forces were reorganized into two main divisions—the Guard and the Cavalry Regiment—the cavalry commander had become one of the five most influential figures in the military. Yet even someone of that stature had been arrested and sentenced by the Office of Justice. This case had sent a clear message to everyone in Summerhall about just how much authority the office truly held.
Now, whenever people spoke of the Office of Justice, their voices carried a note of respect—and a touch of fear.
...
Robin arrived at the Office of Justice just as his colleague, Ser Lymond, stepped outside.
The white-haired knight greeted him with a curious look. “How did the two lads perform?”
“They did all right,” Robin replied with an even-handed assessment. “If we could combine Gino’s instincts with Ralf’s sharp eye for detail, we’d have another solid officer on our hands.”
Lymond chuckled. “Patience. These things take time.”
Just then, a commotion broke out on the street. Robin and Lymond turned toward the source of the disturbance.
A group of eight nuns, each clad in a different color, was making its way down the avenue. Leading them was none other than Sister Melessa, the Mother of the Redemption Sept. The townsfolk along the street bowed in respect as they passed.
Robin and Lymond, ever observant, immediately noticed something unusual. Unlike Sister Melessa, the seven nuns accompanying her were not dressed in ordinary religious garb. Beneath their habits, they wore chainmail. Their hands were clad in gauntlets, and their feet in sturdy, combat-ready leather boots. Each boot had a dagger sheath embedded at the top, with a blade resting inside.
There was more. Each of these seven nuns carried a copy of The Seven-Pointed Star, but unlike the usual bound tomes, these were forged from solid metal. A rough estimate suggested their weight was on par with that of a two-handed warhammer—yet the sisters held them effortlessly in one arm. In their other hands, they each gripped a heavy metal scepter, the kind that could serve as both a symbol of faith and a weapon of war. Their sheer strength was undeniable, perfectly matching their imposing statures.
As the nuns passed the Office of Justice, Robin and Lymond, both devout believers, bowed their heads in reverence. Lymond, who was slightly more informed about recent events, whispered, “The Sisters of Redemption. They’re likely being assigned as Lord Lynd’s personal guards—just like the armed holy men sent from the Silent Monastery.”
“With Lord Lynd’s strength, does he really need their protection?” Robin murmured, unable to hide his skepticism.
Lymond hesitated before merely shrugging, offering no answer.
