"Sinking", continued (In Nomine, Dominic and Laurence) Rated R for implied sexual abuse)

[jeriendhal]

There was something soothing in practicing forms. The Japanese had an entire martial-art devoted merely to drawing a sword. Perfection in that one action could take decades to master.

Thrust. Swing. Parry. Thrust. The ancient blade in his hand sang through the air, an extension of his arm, his Will.

I am the Sword. The Sword is me. Together there is perfection.

I am the Sword in God's hand. He guides my Will. Together there is perfection.

Once he had been Uriel's Sword to wield. But Uriel was gone to the Higher Heavens, so now he was only wielding by God, and God's hand was invisible to the eye.

The blade snicked home in its sheath, and he placed it on the rack in the dojo's practice room with a brief obeseance.

"You pray to your sword?" Dominic asked

"Merely aknowledging the skill that went into it's construction," Laurence answered, turning to face him. Dominic's black cloaked form filled the doorway, his red eyes half-lidded in the darkness of his hood. "How may I help you, Judgement?"

Dominic slid the wood and paper door shut behind him. "An impudite approached my Tether at the United States Supreme Court. He was stopped, and demanded to see the Seneschal, whereapoin he delivered the following." Judgement removed a brown envelope from his cloak, and passed it along to Laurence.

It contained photographs.
.
.
.

Christopher, lying unconcious on a concrete floor.

Christopher, hanging in chains in a cell, naked and bloody.

Christopher, forced to his knees, while Andrealphus stood behind him and…

Laurence closed his eyes briefly, then forced them open again. Forced himself to view every picture, committing them to memory. There were dozens, each displaying a different manner of cruelty and degradation. And Christopher was in the center of each of them.

"Was the Impudite questioned?" he finally said, slipping the photographs back in the envelope. Dominic took them back, and they dissapeared once again into the folds of his cloak.

"No," Dominic stated. "He was followed by a Triad, with orders to apprehend him should he approach an Infernal Tether. When he became aware of their prescence, he permitted himself to be Soul killed rather than submit to capture and interrogation. I have, however, received independent confimation that the cell featured in these photographs is indeed in Andrealphus' Brothel."

"So, there is no question as to where Children is, and that his capture was entirely involuntary," Laurence stated.

Dominic's hood angled forward in a nod. "Lust is acting only in concert with Drugs. Druiel was merely a minor pawn, with Saminga having no direct involvement in the operation. Further, Christopher was disabled by a new alchemical compound, apparently powerful enough to affect Superiors in Vessel form."

"That is dangerous, and useful to know. Jean must be informed."

"I concur." Dominic paused for a moment. "Also, there was a note accompaning the photographs." He handed a piece of paper, thick parchement rather, folded neatly into thirds, with a broken Infernal seal.

Laurence opened it. The note merely said, in neat, anonymous cursive, Return my servant, and you shall have yours.

"I don't understand."

"Nor do I," Dominic admitted. "I have not recently captured or redeemed any Lust servitors, particularly any of high enough rank for Andre to go to such extreme measures to ensure their return. It makes little sense."

"So nothing has really changed at this point," Laurence said.

Dominic six eyes grew narrow. "Has it not? Your complaint against mounting an immediate rescue attempt was that you feared an ambush against Micheal or his high-ranking servitors. That appears to be invalidated."

Laurence turned his head away. "That does not mean it is nessasary. If the Infernal servant that Andre so cryptically refered to can be found, then an exchange might be made."

"If they can be found. I will start a search immediately." Dominic said nothing further, but the tension between them grew palpable. "Lord Commander, a frank word, if you would?"

"Of course."

Dominic drew in a breath and began. "It is a danger, among my Triads, that when faced with a hard choice in making their judgements, they choose the path more difficult, whether or not it is the right path. There is a romantic, for lack of a better term, feel to such things. They hypnotize, narrowing one's scope until the path is no longer truly clear. Every honest error is a sin, every bit of discord a sign of demonic fraternization. I have had more than one servitor Fall because they sincerely believed they must Fall, rather than be eventually forgiven for a simple mistake."

Laurence frowned. "You think I believe it to be romantic, for Christopher to be subjected to such horrific tortures?"

Judgement sighed deeply. "I think you believe, on some level, perhaps not conciously, that Christopher deserves what is happening to him."

Laurence's lips grew thin. "I shouldn't be surprised. Micheal as much accused me of allowing Christopher to be captured so I needn't explain my reasons for recruiting Druiel."

"I would not go that far. But I believe you think that your honor would be compromised if Children's recent actions went unpunished."

"Do you believe they should go unpunished?"

"No," Dominic admitted. "With the evidence I had gathered against him, at minimum Christopher would have had to look forward to severe censure in the Council. It is possible, if he made another such grievous error, that he might actually be Outcast. And should he returned safely to us, no matter what his condition, I would still strongly urge that he be brought to trial."

Laurence was silent for a long while. "And what would you say, to a member of the Host who left one of their own in straights as dire as Christopher is in now?"

"I would pursue them personally."

"Dominic…" he began, then paused and started over. "Judgement, you are older than I. I did not witness the Fall of Lucifer, his murders and betrayal. And when angels speak of Andrealphus, and Kronos, and Baal, and Beleth, and yes even Lucifer in terms of old friends who have lost their way, not as dire enemies and betrayers of God's will, I do not understand them. Nor do I understand the Grigori, and their stubborn desire to hide their sins and be Judged as one. Nor, in the end, do I understand Creation and Stone's deep hatred of them, and the Hunts that went forward, despite that Judgement and punishment against them had already been carried out."

"Dominic, there are times when I do not understand why God chose me to serve as head of the Seraphim Council and Commander of the Host. But that is the position that I serve in, and I must believe it is because God believed my honor and oaths were needed here. So I must trust that when I make a decision, it was for the right reasons. Were I to start questioning every decision I make, where would it stop? For the sake of the whole of Heaven, I must be resolute in my actions, and trust that God's hand is guiding me in them."

"I understand, Lord Commander," Dominic said, and lowered his head briefly. "What are your orders?"

"Find the the servitor that Andre seeks, and if you are successful, make arrangements for an exchange of prisoners."

"And if I am not?"

"Then I must make another decision, one that you may be assured I will not take lightly, nor ever forget," Laurence said, running his hand over his eyes. "And Dominic, has anyone else seen these photographs?"

"No," Dominic said flatly, "though the Triad that was involved, and the seneschal of the tether, are both aware of the envelope that was delivered, of course."

"See that they remain in Judgement's hands, and do not let them be distributed," he said. "Feelings on this whole affair are running high in the Host, particularly in War and Children. It is important that everyone maintain a level head, and not let momentary feelings of outrage control their actions."

"As you wish, Lord Commander. For now, I will begin the search for Andre's servitor." Dominic bowed briefly and left the practice room.

Laurence returned to the weapons rack, then picked up and unsheathed the sword he had been practicing with earlier. He sighted along it's length. The steel was strong, but flexible. If it struck home, it would bend, transmitting the blow while preserving it's own structure. But if it was bent too far, even this sword would break, and it was safer not to test it to it's limits.

I am the Sword, he thought, and began to practice his forms once more.

TBC