NOVEL NEXT 6-42 - Do Your Job Properly
There is a certain pattern to the purging of the old guard. While I can respect the elegant effectiveness of simply putting enemies to the sword at the moment they are found, that is only possible when conquering. Revolutions require justification, at least the appearance of it. Austin Feugard found himself confronted by a peculiar problem of his own making, and happily applied the hangman's noose as his solution. When the revolutionaries raided Donjon, it was emptied out. The food was left to rot, the iron to rust. He could not send his enemies back to it so soon. Thus, the holding cells of Hearth's Bay overflowed soon after the king was seized.
There was an unsorted mix of political enemies with common criminals, all made worse by the depletion of the guard. A gallows was erected outside of the city alongside a crude court where day and night, a judge sat before a line of criminals. While there was little that could be called an examination of facts, at this time there was not a madness of bloodlust. The gallows was a tool, not an ultimate fate. While loyalists to the crown were marched up to have their necks snapped, they were but a backdrop to the typical criminals. For them, a simple sorting was applied.
If they had money, it was seized. If they were poor, they were flogged until the whip-man's arm lost its strength.
I had eaten well by the time the gallows were moved back into the city. Although some thought it wise to simply pile the corpses onto a ship and dump them at sea for the beasts to devour, there was still a tradition of burial. Though it taxed me, I transformed the graveyard into a catacomb, weaving a network of tunnels between the various pits they dug. There, in the darkness, I cultivated a most horrid swarm of vermin to rip the flesh from the bodies. Rats swelled up like blood-sucking ticks, bringing the nourishment of lingering life force back to me where I sat, carving and crafting my body back into a semblance of humanity.
And so it was that I stood upon two legs when half the city came together to watch the king be marched to the gallows. I must say, it was a striking display of dignity. He wore the linens that knights practice in, a simple and mundane garb of white. He walked with his head high, iron manacles hardly rustling as he presented his pride to a kingdom that betrayed him. A great list of crimes was announced to the crowd, implicating him in the corruption of a hundred different officials. Only those with a keen ear and mind understood that the crimes he was being charged with were negligence in stopping the crimes of others. The difference mattered little, as the true purpose was to urge the crowd to silence. Once all of their attention was gathered, the true crime was announced.
"And lastly, Frederich von Arandall facilitated the embezzlement of the entire national treasury to as of yet not wholly known aims. However, the purposes include the paying off of witnesses to suppress the misdeeds of his mistress. For these crimes and negligences, a new forum of the people of Vassermark was called and his status was found wanting. To bring justice to the land, he has been sentenced to hang by the neck until dead."
The crowd roared, and it was impossible to tell whether the noise was in support or opposition. A cadre of armed guards surrounded the gallows with spears at the ready. None could have approached without losing their own life. As such, few were close enough to hear the words Frederich said to Lucius, who was among the guards protecting the gallows.
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"I should have trusted you like my father before me, despite knowing you helped kill him. I can only pray that your love is with the people of this kingdom and not just yourself."
Lucius met the king's gaze and grimaced. "Acheliah was willing to trust me."
"And look where that got her. She's dead too, isn't she? Now, we must wage war without our guardian."
"If you have some secret weapon hidden away, now would be the time to tell me about it," Lucius said.
To the shock of the crowd, who could not hear their conversation, the king threw back his head and laughed. The gallows lever was thrown and he fell a few short feet. The hemp cracked, giving him the mercy of a snapped neck rather than a slow strangulation. A hood was belatedly thrown over his head when the executioners realized that even in death the king sneered back at them. And so, he went on to the Shepherd, leaving his killers with an everlasting wound upon their psyche that he had died while knowing he was better than them.
Such wounded men can do very terrible things indeed.
The dignity of the king's death was soon to be forgotten. The Feugard boy understood the importance of theatrics as well as a stage actor, and soon brought out a distraction. Caroline of Cups screamed and cursed as she was dragged by ropes up to the stage. Blood was dried in streaks down her face and still she spat venom at the appointed magistrate. He took great relish in speaking over her, naming one crime after another. In a fair kingdom, not one of those crimes would have resulted in her death, but each stoked the ire of the crowd further. Eventually, Austin had her gagged so the magistrate could speak even louder to the roaring crowd. They were all petty indignities and affronts to sentiment. The annoyance of workers, or the removal of art pieces she disliked. Unlike the king's crimes, however, her victims were present in the crowd. They filled the area like rank and file soldiers, cheering as each insult to the people of Vassermark was announced.
When the gallows finally swung, the length of rope had been misjudged. The girl was too light for the drop, the rope too pliant. Her body bounced like a fisherman's lure as she began to kick and dance in the air. Still, the crowd called for her blood, all eyes upon the girl strangling to death before them as the king's body was taken down and hurried away. Some lost their grit and turned away from the spectacle. Few were close enough to see her tears.
The executioners startled back as Lucius mounted the stairs and ascended the gallows. With one strike of his blade, he severed the rope and sent Caroline plummeting to the ground. She landed hard upon the ground, writhing against her restraints. When Lucius leapt down beside her, her gagged shouts faded away and she locked eyes upon the hero of the city. She thought he had saved her.
His blade pierced her heart and silenced the crowd completely.
With his sword still dripping blood, he locked eyes with Austin Feugard. "Remember to do your job properly," he said. Then he faced the crowd and raised his voice. "Your lives are not made good by the king alone, or even some forum of peers. It is done by the actions each and every one of you makes. It is the sum of all efforts. Made rich by sweat, or poor by theft. Forget not that you live in a paradise built by your forefathers when they quarreled in mud and fear so that their children could have luxury. So all of you should remember to do your job properly."
There were those among the crowd who had served in war and they straightened their backs. Some saluted, others hushed the confused. They gave Lucius honor as he marched from the gallows. The boy spared Austin Feugard but a moment, words for him alone. "I have a war to fight. I expect to have a kingdom to return to. Remember that."