Closed Morality 101: Why don't we kill our enemies? (Hadrian)

[Dutch Forte]

Date: Winter 46th, 513 AV
Time: 11:30 AM

It was time to sign up for the university. Dutch was getting shown around by a member of the staff, his guard was off in his glee. “And this is the west wing, we study the applied arts hear. This is where you’ll study your beloved philosophy.”
“How do you know I want to study philosophy, miss?”
“The professors talk much of study affairs, it allows us to stay in touch and guide the students better, not just as teachers, but as fellow humans. Yesterday someone was blabbing about some man walking campus with Katrin Hearth, and being that I saw you with her earlier I don’t think its coincidence.”
“I guess that says it all, but is that a bad thing?”
“Only if you let it be.”
“Fair enough, why does it matter to those people what Katrin or I do?”
“Its in all of our nature to gossip: Everyone’s doing it. I guess we all have a fancy for a story of love too.”
“I’ll take it we’re the symbols of love, but let me ask, why does love matter?”
“Because, love is what keeps us together. Love isn’t just limited to man and woman, romantic relationships, and family: Love is the bond we have for all people, we just make it seem more complicated. You love your enemy for the competition he gives you, and the only people who believe otherwise are blind; without others always influencing our lives progression would stunt. What I mean to say is this: Love isn’t something you can identify, everyone has their own opinion, just as I have mine, but we all idolize and strive for it; the only valid conclusion I can come to is love is the emotion of unity.”
“Why, how admirable. That would make sense for us in always saying love is between man and woman: Romantic relationships spark some of the deepest feelings of unity. May I ask your name miss?”
“Calm down, lover boy.”


Dutch, beleaguered, continued on with his guide, talking about the university. The round plate in the sky had its longer hand touch an eleven, the lightness of mood had passed and, just for a brief second, Dutch felt discomfort graze his back; the day was dark for noon and the cold kept most inside, Dutch and his guide stood in the old quarter surrounded by air.

Dutch felt another feint feeling, this time on his hip, he turned in reaction and just as his head turned Dutch saw the phantom, running in rags with a bag in hand. Dutch felt his side, this time with his hand, and felt his purse gone. “Thanks, you sure know a lot about the university,” Dutch said without releasing the bulk of his thought, he was off to the races now.

The thief passed through an archway, quickly turning a corner. Any proper man in flight knew of his assets and limitations so breaking line of sight could of been one of two things: He either knew the university well or he made quick turns to make up for his lack of speed. Dutch pursued regardless, what kind of fool would stand while his money ran? The old-wanderer turned the corner too to see a building he recognized, but was not familiar with, with the thief heading right in. Dutch made a mad dash for the door, the runner losing hairs as the pursuer followed.

Dutch made way to the entrance, seeing the target sprinting down the hallway, never breaking stride as he chased. The man hooked right and Dutch hauled hard just as before to keep line of sight. There were students lined against the walls, some had papers on the floor but they minded Dutch as he sprinted and kept out of his way, some even cheering for him. Dutch broke the corner in pursuit and this time the crook was closer than ever; some desks had lined the hallway and he had begun to knock them down, among other things, to block the pursuir’s path. Dutch was beginning to breathe heavy, but his stride remained unbreakable, seeing his enemies weakening; he hurtled over the objects unhindered, making use of his hips to get past things that we’re too slarge for his average frame to jump. The man broke right completing the square and Dutch, not far behind now, got caught and slipped on a loose paper, his cheeks blushed before he got up to keep it moving.

When Dutch turned left to finish his last of the square, he saw the thief stopped at the door a long ways down that lead outside. He was being held up by someone and Dutch, while he thought it not in his capacity, sprinted harder than he had ever before. He made use of all his training to fight forward, eventually he had to weave past curious students who observed the occurrence at the end of the hallway.

“Get outta’ my way or I’m gonna’ hurt you lady.”
“I’m not moving!”
“I’ve never hit a girl before.” A crack was heard as the girl flew to the wall before smacking the ground, dozens rushed to help. By now Dutch was twenty feet away from the door, pushing through the crowd with care for their safety. He made his way past the students and saw a professor kneeling next to the girl, as fate would have it was Dutch’s guide; she was unconscious and even in that moment Dutch was troubled by the sight.

Undaunted, Dutch made his way out the door, the thief moved with his head watching his back. Dutch pushed himself as his breath wore thin, aiming to end the chase right here. The big hand on the twelve, the universities daily high point had begun. The thief was beginning to run carelessly and, ironically enough, he slipped on a coin that fell from Dutch’s bag when he snatched it. Almost in one moment Dutch sprung in the air and leaped on the man, air escaping from the cushion. “You proud of yourself you scrounge?”
“No sir, I’m not.” Dutch gripped at the thief’s collar, he had brown follicles dotting his chin with worn blue eyes.
“Than why’d you do it?! Why’d you take my money?!” Dutch rocked the man so hard his head banged against the cement; the runner’s eyes widened and focused their sight.
“To get by man, you don’t know what its like out here.”
“Stop making excuses for yourself, telling me I should understand.”
“Please, have some pity for me man.”
“I have pity for your soul, I can give it true justice,” Dutch started to reach for his gladius.
“No please! I can find way more money for you than what’s in that purse, we can be rich together!”
“I’m not interested in a stolen fortune you scoundrel, you’re narrow mind is your down fall.” Dutch unsheathed the short sword, holding it towards the sky, the sun shining far above the tip. “Pray for forgiveness, whichever God you claim, only they may save you now.”

[Hadrian]

"Stop," said a voice, calm and quiet, but compelling. It was laced with hypnotic suggestion, of course, but Hadrian only dared use such in the direst of straits. He didn't like overwhelming the minds of other people, felt dirty for meddling, but he couldn't allow a murder on campus, not when he could prevent it. He strode forward, a tall man bundled up against the cold. His hair was messy, dark and shot through with dark blue, his eyes far too bright thanks to the djed storms. Students gave way for the young professor, the enchanter of Zeltiva. Without a gesture or incantation, green energies shot forth from him to land at the thief's feet, melting the flagstones until the stone reached up to encase his feet and legs up to the knees. He wasn't going anywhere. To one student, he said, "Go and alert the Wave Guard." To the man with sword in hand, he said, "Take your coin, but leave justice to the authorities. Vigilantes are not appreciated here."

[Dutch Forte]

“Stop.”

Dutch hesitated his hand without knowing why as he had full intention to kill, it would be a moment before he realized someone had told him to stop. Dutch wasn’t all that worried about what someone else had to say about this particular endeavor so he found it odd he even hesitated, it was as if he had been hypnotized. There was an odd feeling in the air, one Dutch recognized as being in the presence of a mage, almost indescribable: There was someone of power in the area.

A crowd was beginning to gather, Dutch’s intent had made him unaware of it all and, in a sudden turn of heart, lowered his sword as it wasn’t the time or place. He checked his shoulder to see who had commanded him: There was a tall figure with bright blue eyes squinting at him discerningly. Dutch recognized him as the main source of djed, smaller traces laced the air none equaled the power.

“What the..?!” The thief yelled as the figure threw magic at him, encasing his lower legs.
“Mighty fine trick you got there, sir.” Dutch put his gladius away, he knew what he was dealing with.
"Go and alert the Wave Guard." The student he spoke to ran like a tattletale would: In a fearful scamper the likes of such one would expect him to trip on his own laces.
"Take your coin, but leave justice to the authorities. Vigilantes are not appreciated here." Dutch kicked the thief in disrespect for both the tall man and, as he was at that point, the shortest one.

“See now, your misguided in the way you define me: A vigilante is someone who, without consent from government, enforces law; I was going to kill this man, not in the name of law, but, as you put it so well, in the name of justice. I learned this all fairly recently so forgive me if I misspeak, as I think I do not. Now let me ask you: Who might you be and what right do you have to proclaim who handles our beloved justice?”