Chapter Text
Being summoned to see Queen Jasnah was never good news, especially when you were one Kaladin Stormblessed, Highmarshal of the Windrunners, founder of the legendary Bridge Four, and if meetings of the Knights Radiant were anything to go by, the Alethi Queen's least favourite person in all of Roshar.
But, dutiful subject as he was, Kaladin made his way through the corridors of Urithiru towards her chambers - a set of rooms in the interior, familiar to Kaladin because of how close it was to Dalinar's. Syl hovered by his side, somehow more worried than Kaladin himself if her constant flitting between shapes was anything to go by, which was a difficult task.
"You know," she hung from the ceiling overhead, a chandelier full of spheres, "I overheard her talking to her spren the other day Kaladin, they do not like us," she was a gemheart, rolling along the floor, like the ones in the fields, "This seems like a bad idea, she could soulcast you like that, " a girl again, for the brief purpose of snapping her fingers for emphasis.
Kaladin shook his head, bemused, "She's the Queen Syl, I can't just ignore her."
"Well!" Syl puffed in front of him, arms folded, "If she does turn you into a cremling don't say I didn't warn you!"
"I'll bear that in mind." he rounded a corner and found himself outside Jasnah’s quarters, nodding to the guards stationed outside, he entered the small lounge she had set aside for guests outside of the official context of running the Alethi court.
He didn’t have to wait long. Soon after Kaladin’s arrival, Jasnah entered, accompanied by Wit and a human sized, inky black figure. Her spren. Kaladin had only seen the thing a few times, he wondered what it meant that it showed itself now?
“Take a seat, Highmarshal,” Jasnah said, waving her free hand towards a set of plush leather chairs, arranged around a long end table. Judging by the way her eyes flicked to Kaladin’s shoulder, Syl had also made herself visible. Kaladin did as she asked, eyeing the refreshments and several stacks of paper laid out on the table. Storms, he still had no idea what she wanted.
Jasnah took a seat opposite, Wit following suit. Jasnah’s strange spren settled in a standing position at her shoulder, “Well, I see no reason to delay,” Jasnah said, pouring tea from the pot, “I asked to meet with you today because I have a proposition to make.”
Kaladin blinked as she pushed the steaming cup toward him, “Thank you, your Highness,” he said, a few anticipation spren bobbing about in the area near his feet. He swallowed, trying to calm his pounding heart.
Jasnah nodded, “Are you aware of the 'Royal Decree For The Abolition of Alethi Slaves'"
Kaladin most certainly was not . He straightened, glancing at Syl, “You’re.... Really?” he asked, his voice hoarse. He glanced towards Wit, the storming man was smirking, like how Kaladin imagined Adolin's ryshadium did when he wasn't looking. Kaladin narrowed his eyes at the man, “If this is some sort of joke Wit, I’m not finding it particularly funny.”
“Well I didn’t find it particularly funny when you lost my flute-”
Jasnah held up a hand to quiet them both, “Yes, Highmarsall, really.”
“And…” Kaladin frowned, “Your proposition?”
Jasnah nodded, “As I’m sure you can imagine, this notion is not popular among the highprinces and other noble lighteyes, nor is it popular with my uncle,” she scowled at that, “Dalinar has argued that now is not the time for social upheaval.”
Kaladin wasn’t sure why that surprised him, or why it was accompanied by a small shock of betrayal. He remembered standing opposite Dalinar in a cell, listening to him argue in favour of Amaram, that Kaladin had no right to seek justice for what he had done, that of course Dalinar should take the word of a well respected lighteyes over Kaladin’s own… No. Dalinar had never been likely to support something like this. As much respect as Kaladin had for the man personally…
“It has been suggested to me,”Jasnah continued, “That the most useful court in this matter will likely be that of public opinion. What I need from you, Highmarshall,” she took a sip of her tea, then set it in its saucer with a slight click, “Is your story.”
Kaladin’s gut went cold.
He could feel every blow, every beating, pain and fear and darkness-
His ears rang like he’d been kicked in the head, he felt like he’d been kicked in the head. Was Jasnah still talking?
"I…" his tongue felt too big for his mouth, his whole body was rubber, like it belonged to someone else. He couldn't… she couldn't…
The lie came easily, he knew what happened when he told the truth, "I was a deserter… I…" his body was tense, ready for the blows that would surely follow, always did whenever he spoke of that time.
"I think we all know that's not the truth Kaladin," he blinked, Wit was there, at his side, a hand on Kaladin's shoulder as if it would tether him to the ground. Syl hovered behind Wit, pale face drawn with concern.
"Kaladin?" her voice was a whisper, "Are you alright?"
He let his eyes slip shut for the briefest of moments. Breathed. Certainty thudded in his veins as he drew in stormlight. Better, that felt better.
He opened his eyes, and gave Syl a tight, reassuring smile.
He turned back to Jasnah, was that empathy on her face? "I apologise," he said quietly, "I didn't quite catch that last part."
Jasnah's face drew back into that tight, brusque expression she wore as she gave a tight nod. Wit moved back to his position beside her, and she said, "No need to apologise Highmarshal, I understand that this must be a… difficult topic for you, considering your history. It is for that reason precisely that this law be put into effect as seamlessly as possible, in order to spare others the fate you yourself had to endure."
Kaladin didn't trust himself to do anything more than nod.
"There are many among the Alethi nobility," she continued, seeing he wasn't going to respond further, "that argue the keeping of slaves to be justified by the quality of the character of those victimised by the practice. They are wrong of course, and whilst there are numerous examples proving that point, there are few cases as prominent as your own."
She smiled then, always a dangerous expression on her, "I do believe you're already something of a folk hero - Kaladin Stormblessed, darkeyed slave who saved a high prince's life and founded an order of the knight's radiant. You're a fable," her expression darkened, "With your consent, I would show them the truth."
She saw it on him, he realised, of course she did. This wasn't random. The Queen had always been astute. He glanced at Syl again.
"You don't have to do this Kaladin, not if you don't want to," she'd moved back to hover protectively by his shoulder, "I know it hurts you, to think of that time."
"That's why I have to do it Syl," he said, quiet enough so that it was only for her to hear, "I made an oath to protect, this… this could keep thousands out of the hands of slavers…"
She deflated, then nodded her assent.
He swallowed, then looked to Jasnah, "I'll do it."
Her smile was genuine this time, "Excellent. Let's arrange a time that suits the both of us, shall we?"