They didn’t know what to do after I pled guilty. They had a whole trial laid out with evidence, witnesses and everything. One thing I’m good at is always throwing a wrench in well laid plans by being unpredictable. Mother Dalia hasn’t spoken to me since then. She stormed out of the room when I said I was guilty; she probably hoped I would fight it. You can’t fight forever, she told me that. Now, the one time I choose not to fight she refuses to talk to me. I love that woman, but she can be so damn fickle sometimes. I never know if she wants me to be a rule breaker or a rule follower. Fighting those charges would be like running my head into a brick wall over and over again and expecting the wall to crumble. There’s always going to be time to make up with her, it’ll just be a while this time.

The bigger issue is that it’s taken almost a week for them to get back to me with my punishment. Usually, I would have been told by now. A day at most is the longest it has taken before. That worries me. Either they’re cooking up something really vicious and unexpected or they’re just letting me soak in the pain. I’m not sure which one. Tomorrow I’ll finally find out. I had been sleeping fine until now. Tonight, I can’t really sleep worried about what they might say. In the end, it won’t matter anyway.

I plan to tell them I’m leaving anyway. Being in the monastery isn’t the best option for me. I don’t take orders well. I’m older than most of the people who stayed here anyway. I only stayed out of loyalty to Dalia and a few others. We’ve reached a point where I’ll clash with leadership no matter what. I don’t think they set me up, but I feel like it. They’ll just keep putting me in situations where I’ve got no choice but to make mistakes. Then we’ll have some sham trial and they’ll suspend me. It’s their way of keeping me out of the field and in line. Just a waste of everyone’s time.

***

“Isaias Jason Zadok, you have pled guilty to a litany of charges. Would you like to make a statement before your punishment is handed down,” Eineke asks. “Perhaps an apology to the elders in attendance.”

“I do have a statement,” I speak solemnly.

“Very well, please take the floor and clear your heart.”

“Firstly, I would like to thank you all for everything you have done in raising me. From a snot nosed child, to the man that I am now. I stand before you today, not to ask leniency. Nor am I here to apologize for what I have done. I haven’t done anything wrong. Our mission has always been to protect the world from supernatural threats and prevent harm. In the event that we cannot prevent harm, we are to heal the wounds and avenge the fallen. We all take an oath, yet it seems that some of you have forgotten hat oath,” an audible gasp from the crowd as I pause. “I refuse to ever leave any victims behind. I might not always be a team player, but I’ve always refused to leave teammates behind. That’s just who I am, that’s how I was brought up. Use any tools to complete the job with the least harm done. Somewhere along the way weapons and fighting techniques began to be banned. We have become more style over substance. I don’t wish to be part of that any longer. If being here means leaving people we could save. I want nothing to do with it, even if it pains me to say it. If you can’t commit to changing the way things are now, I can’t commit to staying here.”

“That’s enough out of you,” Eineke spits viciously.

I take my seat as the crowd whispers amongst themselves. The judges whisper together. Everyone is whispering. I can’t hear them, just a muddled sound similar to talking, but I can imagine what the conversations sound like. They want me gone, sentenced to death probably I don’t even know if that is an option. Probably want to see one of the judges step down from the panel and teach me a lesson. They can be blood thirsty sometimes for a bunch of eremites. Little do they know I’m ready to go right now.

“Isaias Jason Zadok, we have a sentenced you to excommunication,” Eineke says bluntly.

The crowd erupts. Laughter, cheers and surprisingly a few people begin to yell out about fairness or how I saved people. I wonder where all these people were when I was getting railroaded at the trial last week. All three judges begin to slam their gavels to regain order in the court. The jury is led out of the room as if someone would attack them for their choice.

I feel my heart rise back into my chest where it belongs, far from my stomach where it’s been. The crowd is having a mixed reaction, but I’m not. I catch a glimpse of Elser and we’ve both got the same stoic look on our faces. Neither of us got exactly what we wanted. It’s a new world for me, and he’s finally got me out of his. I just don’t think either of us expected the change to come about this way. The room finally calms and Eineke gets back to my sentence. The most important part has already been said but there are still the small details to reveal. No two excommunications are the same. It all depends on the seriousness of the crime, if there is remorse and prior actions.

“You have two days to prepare yourself to leave. After you leave you will not be able to return to this campus for ten years,” I was expecting six, “You will not be able to contact anyone here for two years. No one here will contact you either. Due to your service, your hunting license will not be suspended. With several pleas on your behalf, you will receive a bank account with $10,000 total in the essence of fairness. These funds should be enough for you to find housing and anything else you may need. That is the last piece of mercy that shall be laid upon you from us. Do you have any questions Mr. Zadok,” Eineke finishes reading the terms of my expulsion.

They were more lenient than I could have expected. It was nice of them to give me some money. I’m sure Dalia asked, I’m not sure who else would, nobody else with any real power around here actually likes me. Usually, they just send them out into the world to be homeless. Two days gives me a chance to say goodbye to some people. Maybe raid the armory one last time before I hit the road. It couldn’t hurt.