Editing Bleeding Out (Warhammer High) (section)

===The Trial, Part One===

Morticia gripped the brace she had clipped to her arm, leaning it on the tiled floor of the hospital.  She was dressed in her street clothes, which her father had delivered, and with a handful of serfs following her with her possessions and the gifts she had received.  Several of the doctors who had worked with her during her stay were waiting on the route out of the ward, with well-wishes and advice.  Morticia thanked them in turn, and paused as she reached Grant in the line.

“Good luck out there, Madam,” Grant said, offering her a formal little bow.

Morticia patiently sighed.

Grant quirked his lips, as he tried not to smile in front of the staring guards and doctors.  “Good luck out there, Morticia.”

“Thanks,” she said, finally returning the bow.  “I appreciate the effort.  Maybe I’ll see you under less horrific circumstances some time.”

“I would like that,” Grant said.  Morticia smiled at him and continued down the row, until she reached the elevator.  Punching the button for the roof, she watched the numbers above the door crawl up to ninety.  As the doors opened, a pair of Death Guard serfs flanking the door bowed formally, both proffering their arms.  Morticia waved them off, determined to make it across the garage on her own.  Limping into the open structure, she crossed the curb and parking lines, reaching her waiting car.  She looked around the interior, hoping to see a familiar face, but it was empty.

Shrugging in disappointment, she waited for the serfs to fill the car with her possessions, then braced herself against the armrest as the vehicle lifted from the ground.

The vehicle swooped over the cityscape, flying the short distance to Mortarion’s mansion.  Morticia allowed the driver to assist her in climbing out, and walked slowly to the door of her home.

Before she could even reach the handle, the door flew open.  Mortarion himself appeared inside, crossing the threshold in an instant.  He dropped to one knee to more conveniently embrace his daughter.  “Morticia, welcome home,” he said softly, taking care not to aggravate her wound.

She squeezed her eyes shut, holding back a tear of relief.  “Hi Dad,” she replied, returning the hug with equal care.  “It feels good to be home.”

“I bet it does,” Mortarion said, ushering her inside.  The procession of serfs that had followed the limo in their own vehicles silently transported the goods they carried into the house and trooped up to Morticia’s room to deposit it, while the girl herself sank into a chair, tired from the trip.  “How long must you use that crutch, Morticia?” her father continued.

“At least until graduation, sadly,” Morticia replied dolefully.  “It’s better than a wheelchair.”

“I took the liberty of calling the school and having your finals and presentation delayed until the end of the exam period,” Mortarion said, gesturing at the pile of papers on the table in front of his daughter.  “So you can get back into the swing of things at a more restful pace.”

She nodded in gratitude.  “Thanks, Dad, I really appreciate that.”

“No trouble, Morticia,” her father replied, placing his hands on her shoulders.  She reached up and gave one a reassuring squeeze.  “I don’t want you to feel rushed.”



By Friday, the entire planet was holding its breath.  The trial of Ulysses Keiter was about to begin.  Naturally, a Trial Seclusarius meant no cameras, but it was still a spectacle.  An army of journalists lined up outside the Precinct, facing off with the army of Arbites – and, behind them, Custodes – protecting the proceedings.

Hane stood behind his desk, mind racing.  He and Felger had arrived, exchanged the usual arrangement of pleasantries and paperwork, and set about preparing their places in the courtroom, waiting for Mako to arrive.  The witnesses had arrived one at a time, being security screened piecemeal.  Morticia, he noted, was sitting such that he was directly between her and the defendants’ seat.  He found it very, very hard not to feel sorry for her.  Mortarion had insisted on being present for the trial, and had been rebuffed every time; court decorum would no more accommodate him than any other of the Primarchs.

The seven witnesses the two lawyers had called were sitting silently behind the defense desk, fidgeting under the scrutiny of the Arbites Bailiffs.  Hane recognized two from his own work: a ballistics officer from the crime lab and a member of his staff who had interviewed Keiter before the trial.  The others were an eclectic mix indeed.

One was a member of the Civil Honors Union, and Keiter’s closest friend.  One was a member of Morticia’s family that she had outright insisted be present, as a witness or not.  Two were members of the Treasury VIP office.  The last was a member of the Hive Tetra Organized Crime Unit, which handled drug and weapons trafficking.  Hane stiffened to attention as Mako walked in behind her seat and saluted the Bailiff, signaling the beginning of the trial.

“All rise, Her Honor Mako presiding,” the Bailiff loudly said.  The people in the courtroom straightened up, nodding their respect.  “The Adeptus Arbites of His Royal Majesty’s Courts are now adjudicating.  Justice be done.”

Mako nodded once, removing her ornate helm and letting it rest on the bench beside her.  “We, the Arbitrators of the Imperium, are called upon to settle a matter of criminal law.  By the right of the defendant, the rules of Trial Seclusarius are invoked.  Defendant Keiter, stand.”

Useless stood, rubbing his hands over his chin.  His manacles clanked against each other as he did so, sounding impossibly loud in the room.  “Do you understand the nature of these proceedings?” Mako asked.

“I do, your Honor.”

“Lady Morticia, as the offended party, do you also understand the nature of these proceedings?”

Morticia struggled to her feet, wiping a drop of blood from her cheek.  “I do.”

“Then let the trial begin.  Sieur Hane, present your case on behalf of the Imperium.”

Hane stood, holding a file folder in his hands.  “Your Honor, I have here a transcription I wish to submit as Article 0.”

“Bring it forth,” the Judge said, holding out her hand.  This portion of the trial was routine paperwork, the submission of charges.  She rifled through the papers, noting their contents.  “Do you, on behalf of the Imperium, submit the charges of Attempted Murder in the First Degree, Discharging a Weapon with the Intent to Kill, and Concealment of a Deadly Weapon without a Permit?”

“I do, your Honor.”  The Emperor and Hane had had a barely civil argument over whether or not the charge of Regicide should have been lowered to murder, but in the end, the Emperor’s pragmatic side won out, and he acceded to Hane’s counsel.  Adding the charge of Concealment had been wise, since neither man thought that Keiter would be able to avoid it, and its presence may have dissuaded Felger from pushing his luck with Rachnus’ resignation.

“Counselor Felger, have you received notice of these charges?”

“I have, your Honor,” Felger said, looking up from his dataslate.

“Sieur Hane, present your evidence,” the Judge said, tapping her gavel once.  The witnesses shuffled around a bit, removing coats.  Morticia let out a ragged breath, trying to relax.  Keiter shot her a glance sidelong, but said nothing.

Hane walked back to his desk.  “Your Honor, I wish to call to the bench Witness One.”

“Let the record show that Witness One is recorded as Senior Technician Seller,” the stenographer noted, speaking into the tiny microphone at her desk.

The first witness, the ballistics tech, walked up to the bench, and sat down after a cursory swearing-in.  Hane walked up to the bench, brandishing a paper.  “Please state your name.”

“Senior Technician Ezekiel Seller,” the tech said, leaning forward to speak into his microphone.

“Sieur Seller, I’ve called you here because of your experience in slugthrower weapons, sometimes colloquially called stubbers.  Can you attest to your experience?” Hane asked.

“Sir, I am licensed to perform level One ballistics examinations in all portions of the continental Crime Labs network, and have testified at…exactly two hundred such trials,” the tech said, “this being the two hundredth.”

“So you know your guns, don’t you?” Hane offered.

“I certainly do, sir.”

Hane lifted the rifle on the rack behind him, carefully putting his fingers only on those parts of the gun that were coated in padding by the Crime Lab.  “Can you identify this weapon?”

“I can, sir.”

“What is it?”

The tech leaned forward again.  “That is a Gannet .402 rifle, sir, chambered for the MacMinister .402 cartridge.”

Hane carried the rifle up to the stenographer.  “I wish to submit this as Article 1.”

“So noted,” the Judge said, looking down at the stenographer.

Kelly sat cross-legged in her room in the hospital, watching the news coverage.  She twisted the piece of paper in her hands, staring at the holoscreen.  They had nothing to say, of course.  But they were talking.  They were the talking Heads, after all.  One of them was blathering on about the possibility of concurrence of the charges, should Keiter be found guilty.  That idea appealed to Kelly not at all.

She flipped the channel to a different news station.  This one was going on about how Julius Pius had been arrested and placed under house arrest for the stunt he had pulled in the Hives, and how Lord Warmaster Horus himself had testified at the trial, which was almost as sensational as the trial being held publicly.  Kelly shook her head.  Julius was a brave one, no doubt.  The verdict was expected soon, since there was little room in the hearts of the Arbites for the gene-modded criminals Pius had shot.

Flipping the channel once more, she finally found something that didn’t worry her too much: a dispatch about a new class of Astartes candidates being selected from Terran PDF volunteers for induction into the World Eaters and Salamander Legions.  They and the ships the Mars and Saturn shipyards had produced would be flying out to their respective homeworlds within a few weeks, the news reported.
Kelly turned off the holovision, settling back against the pillow in her chair.  She had already sent in the final paper she had written.  The final exams were, as far as her grades went, miss-able or already excused.  Morticia was fine.  The shooter was going away forever.

So why, she wondered, did it still feel like there was a bullet aimed at her back at that very moment?

It was paranoia.  She knew it.  The therapist had said it.  The Emperor himself, who had stopped in after visiting Morticia, had said it.  So why couldn’t she get rid of it.

She grabbed the remote again, fighting the urge to slam it through the holoscreen.  She gripped it until the plastic cracked, a little of her helpless anger leaking through.

Morticia had been shot, and she was recovering.  Kelly felt helpless.  What would it take?  Why did she still feel so scared?

“Paranoia.  It’s paranoia.  That’s all it is,” she whispered fiercely, dropping the remote on the table.  “Just a specter in the night.”

The trial ground on.  With a Seclusarius trial, the testimonies were swift and productive, with neither side stopping for much more than meal breaks.  As the second witness stepped down from the box, Hane glanced back at Morticia.  She looked absolutely wiped out.  Exhausted, enough that he felt sorry for her.  She caught his eyes and offered up a tiny smile, but it couldn’t eclipse the weariness in her expression.

Keiter was fiddling with a dataslate, discussing something in muted tones with Felger.  Neither of them had had more than cursory questions for the two forensic officers thus far, which was to be expected.  Their entire case hinged on being able to convince Mako that Keiter had felt threatened enough by the ‘degredation’ of the people of Terra that he had taken leave of his senses.  The forensic case was untouchably solid, so they would have to find another means of convincing Mako.

Hane now had two options.  He could call up the witness that Keiter had named, his friend from the Civil Honors Union, or he could call up the law enforcement officers to confirm Keiter’s guilt.  He suspected that the former option would serve him best; leaving the proof of Keiter’s guilt until later would make Mako less willing to allow a sympathy defense to fly.

“Your Honor, I call Witness Four to the stand,” Hane said aloud.

Keiter’s friend, Novandio, took the bench, sweating bullets.


Hane walked up to the witness bench as Novandio was being sworn in.  “Sieur Novandio, please state your profession.”

“I’m a regional director for the Civil Honors Union,” Novandio said.  He pushed his hair out of his eyes, blinking myopically in the brilliantly-lit courtroom.

“And what is that?” Hane asked.

“We’re a charity.  We distribute mutancy testing kits and fund local libraries,” Novandio replied.

“How are you funded, sir?” Hane inquired.

“Mostly by private donations from local companies,” the Union worker said.

“Looking for tax writeoffs?” Hane supplied.

“Possibly.  We don’t judge,” Novandio said.

“Do you receive any funding from the Imperial government?” Hane asked.

Novandio shook his head.  “We do get some money from the Cube authority, but none from the Imperial government.”

“Am I to understand that the defendant is a former employee of yours?” Hane asked.

“He is not,” Novandio stated.

Hane nodded.  “What is your relation to the defendant?”

“He used to volunteer for us,” Novandio said awkwardly.  “He assisted with mutancy testing kit distribution.”

“And under what circumstances did his volunteering conclude?” Hane asked.

Novandio shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “…He was arrested for attempted murder,” he admitted.

Hane sensed his point being carried.  “Thank you, Sieur Novandio.”  He walked back to his desk, jotting a few notes down on his pad as he did so.  Felger stood, taking Hane’s place in front of the witness bench.

“Sieur Novandio, how long did my client volunteer for you?”

“Approximately nine years,” Novandio said.

Felger nodded.  “And in those nine years, how many times did my client perform any violent acts?”

“Never.  Not once,” Novandio insisted.

“Did he ever carry a weapon on these distribution runs?” Felger asked.

“Not that I ever saw.”

“Did he ever pick a fight with anyone, verbally or otherwise?”

“No,” Novandio said.

“So in your experience, there was no reason with my clients’ character to have performed the acts of which he stands accused, was there?” Felger asked.

Novandio hesitated.  “…No, there wasn’t.”

“Thank you, Sieur Novandio, I have no further questions,” Felger said, dismissing the witness with a nod.

The trial reached recess minutes later, as Judge Mako retired to her chambers to weigh the evidence.  Morticia sank into a seat in the hallway, feeling the affair take its toll.  Keiter hadn’t deigned to look at her much, but when he had, it had taken all she had in her not to shudder.

A warm hand squeezed her shoulder, jolting her from her brooding rest.  Her bodyguard from the Treasury office, the woman been protecting her when she had been shot, was standing behind her.  “How are you holding up?” she asked.

“It’s been rough, Sergeant,” Morticia admitted.

The bodyguard nodded in sympathy.  The little Velcro strip on her breastplate named her Marchenka, the pips and chevrons on her shoulders declared her an E-6 Sergeant.  “I bet it is.”  She hesitated, trying to find words.  “I want to apologize for that day, Morticia.  If I had seen the bastard…”

“He would be dead, and better for it, I know,” Morticia said.  “But don’t let it bother you.  He was two kilometers away, and indoors.  You had no way to know.  Dad doesn’t blame you either.”

“That’s good.”  Marchenka nodded once, then stepped back.  “Well…I best get back out there.  You make it through this, okay?”

“I promise, Sergeant,” Morticia said, wearily leaning on her crutch.  She walked back in, nodding as the Sergeant held the door for her.  “Wish me luck.”

By nightfall, all but two witnesses had been called.  Seclusarius was a remnant of the older age of the Arbites, where justice had been meted out swiftly, and the Arbites had been little more than a military police force with civilian jurisdiction.  Its methods were simple and harsh, with minimal interaction between the two sides of the debate beyond calling witnesses, and all of the actual decision-making left up to the presiding Judge.  Some defendants believed that that arrangement conferred a greater advantage to them.  In reality, the Judges tended, by and large, to come down hard on a defendant in this context.

Hane finished interviewing the second-to-last witness, and caught Mako’s eye.  The Judge nodded, rising to her feet.  Her shock maul clanked against her armor as she stood.  “As the hour grows late and not all evidence has been presented, I hereby call this session of the Courts of the Emperor to a close.  We shall convene at 0830 tomorrow.  Justice be done,” she concluded, re-donning her helm.  As the witnesses rose to their feet, the Judge climbed back down from the bench.  The Bailiff prodded Useless into a side door, where the transport to carry him back to the lockup waited.  The witnesses filed out one by one, as Felger took his leave with his client.

Hane turned over his shoulder to smile at Morticia.  “You did quite well, Lady Morticia.”

“Thanks, Sieur Hane,” Morticia said tiredly.  She wobbled to her feet, leaning heavily on her brace.  “Think it’ll be over and done with in one more day?”

“I think the last witness will seal it up tight, Lady,” Hane said confidently.

“I bet,” Morticia said, exhaustion pulling at her soul.

Saturday rolled around, as the more media-conscious residents of Terra stayed glued to their holoscreens.  Mako resumed the session of the trial, as both parties made their traditionally brief statements about the day’s activities.  Hane cut a glance at Morticia, gauging how ready for the rigors of the day she looked.  If anything, she looked a bit more stable now, but she was a far cry from being good as new.  Still, she managed a hopeful grin as the last witness of the trial made his way in.  Hane stood at the front of the courtroom, looking up at Mako, as the Bailiff sealed the doors.

“Your Honor, I wish to submit Article 19a,” Hane said, gesturing to the small object on the cart next to him.

“So noted,” Mako said, peering down at the little metal cart.  The stenographer recorded the evidence’s presence as Hane lifted the box up to the bench.

“I have here one memory card, your Honor, containing Sieur Keiter’s personal journal,” Hane said.  “The card is encrypted, with a normal corporate cipher, Aurex Four.  The Arbites cybercrime lab has decoded it, and its transcript is present here, as Article 19b,” he continued, placing a data card on the cart.

“Objection, your Honor.”  Felger stood.  “My client’s personal thoughts are not subject to this court.  If they were, the Emperor would have authorized psychic interrogation of my client.”

“Your Honor, the defendant stands accused of a crime of premeditation,” Hane pointed out.  “His thoughts are very, very much a subject of this court.”

“I agree, Counselor Hane.  Continue,” Mako noted.  Felger sat down, disgruntled.

“Within the journal, which dates back approximately four years, the defendant details his increasing belief that the Imperium is under attack by those who have forgotten those who sacrificed to ensure its peace and stability,” Hane said.  He lifted his data card and brandished it.  “I submit that the contents of this card supply ample evidence that he planned this act of murder long before he carried it out.”

“Objection,” Felger said again.

Mako nodded slowly.  “I will examine the transcript myself, Sieur Hane, after this session has concluded.  Have you any other evidence to present?”

“I do, your Honor,” Hane said, pushing the cart over to the empty jury box.  “I call Ulysses Keiter to the stand.”

Felger stood at once.  “Your honor, my client has not been listed as a witness in this trial.”

“He stands accused of a crime of which he has proclaimed a lack of guilt, your Honor, and yet here he is,” Hane pointed out.  “He is under an obligation to speak in his own defense.”

“No, Sieur Hane, he is not.  However, he has been called as a witness.  As such, he need not take the stand if he chooses not to do so,” Mako said, staring down at Useless.

Useless squirmed.  Felger grabbed his shoulder and whispered urgently.  “Ulysses, you don’t have to do this.  I strongly recommend that you don’t.  We called for a speedy trial because it would hamstring the prosecution; if you get up there I can’t protect you.”

“But if I don’t, Mako will wonder why I’m pleading innocent!” Useless whispered back.  Felger glared half-heartedly at his client, but Useless’ mind was made up.

Keiter stood.  “I have no problem with fielding the prosecution’s questions, your Honor.”

Mako nodded once.  “So be it, then.  Since you may choose not to speak in your own defense, you need not answer questions which would force you to incriminate yourself.”

Useless hobbled over to the witness box, pausing to have his manacles chained to the seat and floor.  Hane waited until he had situated himself before beginning.  “Sieur Keiter.  Do you recall what you were doing the day before you were arrested?”

“I was just working.  It was a normal shift,” Keiter said.

“And do you recall any unusual instructions from your bosses?” Hane asked.

“Unusual?  No,” Keiter said, shrugging.

Hane looked over to where the evidence they had been discussing was piled up.  “Sieur Keiter, at the time you were arrested, you did not request a public defender.  Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And yet, you did request one shortly thereafter.”

“I did.”

“Why did you change your mind?” Hane asked.  Felger shook his head infinitesimally, but Keiter ignored him.

“I decided I wanted expert defense instead,” he said.

Hane nodded slowly, thinking.  “The charges for which you were arrested are not the charges for which you have been brought to trial.  Nonetheless, you requested legal counsel almost immediately after arrest.  Almost.”

“Yes.”

“Your Honor, I don’t see any relevance here,” Felger said.

“I assure your Honor that I am pursuing a very specific and relevant question,” Hane shot back.  Mako nodded.

“Proceed.”

Hane wheeled back to Keiter.  “Sieur, when I first asked you if you wanted legal counsel, you specifically denied it.  When I then informed you whom you had been accused of shooting, you vomited in the corner and demanded a lawyer.  Why did you do that?”

“Your Honor!” Felger thundered.

“Counselor Hane, your question is leading the defendant,” Mako said.  “Rephrase it.”

Hane thought for a moment.  “What, Sieur Keiter, caused you to change your mind, specific to the identity of the woman who had been shot?”

Useless shrugged uncomfortably as Morticia shot him a death glare.  “I don’t understand the question.”

“Sieur Keiter, you did not change your demeanor regarding legal counsel until the moment I named the woman who had been shot.  Why did her specific identity change your mind?”

Useless stared at the floor in front of him.  “…She…Lady Morticia’s seventeen.  She’s not even out of high school.  Why would anyone blame her for anything?  She was just a bystander to a crime of complacency.”

“A crime of complacency…of which every single other person in that café was guilty?” Hane asked pointedly.  Before Felger could roar in indignation, Hane turned to Mako.  “I have no further questions for the defendant, your Honor.”

Felger shot to his feet, walking up to the bench before Mako could say a word.  “Your Honor, a moment?”

Mako nodded, leaning forward and turning her microphone off.  Hane and Felger huddled up before the desk at the front of the court.  “Your Honor, that question was flagrantly misleading,” Felger said quietly.

“I am a Judge, Counselor Felger, I am fully aware of the implications of what was just said,” Mako pointed out.  “However, Counselor Hane, Counselor Felger is correct.  I instruct that the final question be struck from the record,” she said, louder.  The stenographer nodded and pressed the appropriate runes on her dataslate.

Hane and Felger returned to their seats as Useless fidgeted.  “Sieur Felger, have you any questions for your client?”

“I do, your Honor,” Felger said, lifting a dataslate and carrying it up to the front of the courtroom.  “Sieur Keiter, prior to your arrest, you had never been in the custody of the police at any level, for any reason.  Is that correct?”

“It is,” Useless said.

Felger placed the dataslate back down on his desk.  “During your time with Sons of the War, did you ever interact with other hivers that worked on the surface?”

“All the time,” Keiter said.  “A lot of us work up there.”

“And did any of them express discontent with the state of the Imperium’s social balance?” Felger asked.

“Several,” Keiter answered.

“Amongst the members of the Civil Honors Union, did any of the other volunteers express discontent with the status of the Imperium’s social balance?”

“They did,” Keiter replied.

Felger nodded.  “I have no further questions, your Honor.”  As Mako dismissed the witness, Morticia leaned over to Hane and smirked.

Hane nodded to acknowledge her silent signal.  “I call Witness Seven to the stand.”

“So noted,” the Judge said.  A tall, rather aged gentleman in a generic military officer’s coat stood, walking down the aisle to the bench.  Morticia smiled at him eagerly as he passed, which he returned.  As he sat and was sworn in, he loosened the jacket, slinging it over his seat, revealing the gold and white uniform shirt of a Palace resident.

“Sieur, please state your relation to the defendant,” Hane said without preamble.

“I have never met him before in my entire life,” the gentleman said.  There were dark bags under his eyes, Mako noted, and his wavy dark hair was pulled back into a simple tail behind his head.

“And please state your relation to the victim, Lady Morticia,” Hane continued.

“I am her grandfather,” the gentleman replied.

“Lady Morticia’s mother has passed on, has she not?” Hane asked.

“She has,” he replied regretfully.

Hane clasped his hands behind his back, looking over at the witness box.  “Sieur, the names of several volunteer organizations have been mentioned over the course of this trial.  The Civil Honors Union, the Sons of the War, et cetera.  Are you a member of any of these groups?”

“No.”

“Have you heard of them?”

“Yes.”

Hane gestured to the jacket at the back of the box.  “You have served with the Imperial Armed Services, sir?”

“I did.”

The lawyer asked the next question slowly, lending it weight.  “What was your first thought when you had learned someone tried to murder your granddaughter?”

“Objection,” Felger said from his table.

Hane sighed.  “What did you think when you learned your granddaughter had been hurt?”

“Shock.  Horror.  Rage,” he replied heavily.

Hane nodded in sympathy.  “And now that you’ve had the time to sit through this entire trial, what do you gauge the defendant’s motivation to have been?”

“Objection, your Honor, the prosecution has shown no evidence that the witness is qualified to answer that question,” Felger spoke up.

“I’ll redirect, your Honor,” Hane said.  He turned back to the witness.  “Sieur, are you familiar with the concept of Divinatus Imperator?”

“Objection!” Felger said angrily, rising to his feet.  “Your Honor, Counselor Hane is insinuating that my client is guilty of a violation of the Imperial Creed, when he has been charged with no such thing!”

“I am indeed not charging him with a violation of the Creed, your Honor, but I am attempting to establish that sufficient evidence exists to prove the charge of an Attempted Murder of Premeditation.  I am well within the code of conduct of this Court,” Hane pointed out, “to allow for the presentation of evidence to that effect.”

Mako sat back in her seat, staring into the lights of the room, for several seconds.  When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and even.  “I will allow this line of questioning, Counselor Felger.  However, Counselor Hane, tread with exceptional care.”

“Thank you, your Honor,” Hane said, turning back to the witness and raising an empty hand.

“I am familiar with it, yes,” the witness said coldly.

“Did you ever fight against it in the Crusade?” Hane asked.

“Many, many times.”  The witness sat back and sighed, looking rather weary himself.  “It takes so many perfidious forms…”